#asks answered hour

[rocketbirdie]

face value

[ultravioletbrit]

“celebrate” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 432 words

“James?” Regulus asks nervously.

“Yes, love?”

“Do you… would you… I wanted…” Regulus fumbles over his words.

“Reg?” James puts his hand on Regulus’ bouncing knee and Regulus takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t know if maybe… if you wanted to do something… special on Friday?” Regulus forces the question out, trying not to sound as stupid as he feels.

“Oh…err… sure, if you want.” James looks a little confused. “Any particular reason you want to do something Friday?” James asks, and now Regulus feels really stupid.

This is Regulus’ longest relationship. He’s never made it to six months, and he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe six months isn’t as important as he thought. But it feels important to Regulus, and he just wanted to do a nice dinner or something. But now he feels stupid for even bringing it up.

“Err… no… erm…” Regulus shakes his head and stands up from the couch. “Never mind.” He mumbles and starts to walk away.

James catches his wrist and pulls him back down beside him.

“Hey, no. I just didn’t know if there was a reason you wanted to do something Friday?” James asks again.

“No. It’s stupid. Never mind.” Regulus tries to stand up again but of course, James doesn’t let him get far, pulling him even closer this time.

“We can definitely do something Friday.” James tells him, rubbing circles on the back of Regulus’ hands. “For our anniversary, right?” James asks.

Regulus shrugs pathetically, looking down at his lap. James lifts a hand to Regulus’ chin and tilts his head up.

“I was only curious if there was a reason you wanted to celebrate on Friday, that’s all.” James says sweetly.

“Erm… because it’s our anniversary?” Regulus says, confused because didn’t they just establish that?

“Our anniversary’s on Saturday.” James says simply.

“No. It’s Friday.” Regulus corrects him.

“No. It’s Saturday.” James says with a little chuckle.

“James, you asked me out on the 8th.” Regulus tells him.

“Yeah… but you didn’t say ‘yes’ until the 9th.”

“I… oh.” Is all Regulus can manage to say.

“Now,” James says and pulls Regulus onto his lap. “I have some surprises planned for Saturday, but we can absolutely celebrate on Friday also.”

“No. That’s stupid.” Regulus mumbles as he buries himself in James’ chest, hiding his face that is probably several shades of red.

“Nope. We’re doing it!” James says excitedly. “And I’m disappointed with myself that I didn’t think of it first. So…” James starts talking about what they should do on Friday and Regulus feels so stupidly happy as he cuddles impossibly closer to James.

[dunmeshistash]

Can we have a compilation of Fleki being clingy/touchy with the other Canaries? I noticed recently how clingy she is (hanging off Otta, grabbing Cithis, rubbing her head on Mithrun, hovering around/touching Pattadol’s shoulders, whatever is wrong with her and Lycion) and it’s so cute to me

Fleki being clingy/a general nuisance with bonus Fleki being manhandled by Lycion <3

(If you wanna know what Fleki is saying while moving Lycion's hair out of the way you should check this post)

[crimsonbubble]

I keep imagining crying in front of (perv!)yunho and him comforting you… BUUTTTT his thoughts are sickeningly trailing to how you’d look crying while his cock is sheathed fully inside you— AAAAAAAA like he’d wipe your tears and think about how pretty you are even when crying, but then the perverse side of him just wants you to spread your legs for himHANENDMWK!-&/@3848399+\*]¥{¥{¥={=~82&:-

(May I request a little Drabble >< if not ofc I understand ☝️🙂‍↕️ just thought I’d put the idea out there >:3)

Cry Baby

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, perv yuyu, monster cawk yunho, dacryphilia, size kink, dry humping *not proofread, just pure horny

[IM SO CRAZY BRO ONG]

taglist (dm to be tagged); @sidusvenari @sugarnspice630 @ravenempress101 @autieofthevalley @linearities @wisejudgedragonhairdo @madiexuberant @mifuelarts @straytiny127 @yun-fangz @huen1ngk41 @juyeonshour @uniq-tastic @hongjng8 @miyaluvvsyou @everyonewooeverywhere

He’s sick and twisted. There is absolutely no reason for him to be feeling like this. But he can’t deny the ache of his gut and the throbbing of his cock in his sweats.

He’s trying to ignore it but you’re literally not even two feet away from him and he can see the way tears pool in your eyes and cascade down your cheeks. His dick is achingly hard and throbbing and he knows he can’t do anything about it; at least with you in distress right in front of him.

But god, the only thing he wants right now is to see your pretty tears when he splits you open on his cock. He gently takes your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them. He’s trying to focus on your words but you're choking over them and he finally pulls you into his lap.

He sits up on the bed, his hands on your hips to steady you before he trails them up and uses his thumbs to wipe at your teary lashline. He shushes you gently, pressing lingering kisses to your jawline. He may have put himself in a dire situation; you’re now pressed against the obvious tent in his sweats.

But you’re so fucking warm against him. So soft and always so fucking sweet for him, ripe for the taking anytime he wanted it. He pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you and effectively pinning you to him. He keeps an arm around your waist and lets the other gently rub your back in soothing strokes.

But apparently, he was a little too absorbed in his own fantasies that he didn’t realize he was subconsciously rutting his hips into yours. But god you felt too good against him and he needed to get rid of this boner one way or another. He wrapped both his arms around you, holding your hips flush against his. His hips moved quickly, his own thoughts crowding on his mind and tongue.

He wants you. He has you. And he’s not gonna let you go now.

[wyervan]

👁️ 👁️ hey. I love your creepy moon

hey. i think he likes you too.

[elllisaaa]

cannot help but think bf jake would spoil you with the most mind blowing sex on your birthday… long foreplay where he worships your body and eats you out for what feels like forever before he gives you his dick 💕

you literally sent this to me in september for my birthday, i'm so sorry about how damn long it took me to answer it dinna, thank you for always supporting me, i hope you'll like this 💕

JAKE + BIRTHDAY SEX truly is a life changing experience. if usually, he's a simp for you and considers you as a literal goddess, on your birthday, he turns into your personal fucktoy - his goal is to please you all night and make you feel so good you forget your own name.

jake would obviously start by a long make out session, and when i say long, i mean at least one hour of his lips on yours, of his tongue playing with yours, of subtly grinding against each other, of his hands roaming around your body and gropping your breasts over your clothes.

only then, when you're breathless and so desperate for him, jake does start undressing you. he praises you so much, compliments on how pretty you are, on how soft your skin feels, on how good you are being for him. and you're absolutely right, he worships you like a deity. his lips and hands are all over your body : leaving marks and kisses everywhere he can, focusing on your sensitive spots and taking his sweet time until you're moaning his name.

the next stop is eating you out, or i should rather say devour you like a starved man. jake loves oral, even more when he's the one on the giving end of it all - firstly because he loves pleasuring you and he knows how much you like having his mouth on you, and secondly because he's just obsessed by your taste and the way you moan and tug on his hair when he buries his head in between your thighs. so truly, it's a win-win situation for jake. he spends so much time eating you out, you actually forget about where you are. jake makes you cum too many times to count, until you're literally shaking in overstimulation from only his fingers and tongue, until you're begging for him to finally fuck you.

if jake is normally too horny to take things slow, on your birthday he will literally make love to you in the most passionate and intimate way possible. he's holding your hands as he thrusts into you at a slow yet sensual pace, whispering love confessions, praises and sweet nothings into your ears until you both cum together.

the aftercare is top tier too, with lots and lots of little kisses, giggles and jake carefully cleaning you up. he's just the cutest and only wants to spoil his girl for her birthday <3

sidenote : he would 100% make one of your fantasies come true if you had talked to him about it beforehand (cough gosthface!jake cough)

[blueberrybeomgyu]

perv classmate!beomgyu drabble *ೃ༄

+*:🍪:*﹤warnings : 18+ mdni, mentions of pillow/desk humping, masturbation, beomgyu kinda has stalker tendences but it's nothing serious he just likes looking at you, he also has sub tendeces bc that's the way my account rolls ong / masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *

classmate!beomgyu who stares at you from across the lecture hall, his pants tightening at the way your eyebrows furrow when you're focused, how your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek, how you carefully apply your lipgloss, and god how sticky your lips look after, it gets him feeling insane, but he can't tear his eyes away, willing his hips to stay still under his desk where they're threatening to grind against the air

and it's so embarrassing, he has to carefully choose a seat that's not near a lot of people, so no one has to witness his fucked-out state just from looking at you, but he has to be close enough that he can admire the way your hair frames your face.

you never look at him, probably don't even know he exists, but he thinks about you the rest of the day, in his remaining classes, in the food court when he's supposed to be hanging with his friends, and when he finally gets back to his apartment, he can't even make it to his room, nearly tripping over his pants in a hurry to get them off, and he collapses on the couch, hand stuffed in his boxers and fisting his cock roughly, daydreaming about the sticky kisses you'd leave around his neck

he needs you soo bad, it's gotten to the point where his hand isn't enough, grinding desperately on pillows, on the corner of his desk, on the arm of the couch, but it's never enough, even if he gets off, he's thinking about you again almost immediately, hard and insatiable

he starts failing his class because he's never paying attention, always distracted by you, but he knows you excel at the subject -- your answers are always right when you raise your hand, and you've gotten plenty of compliments from the professor during class.

he knows you take a minute to leave the classroom afterward, waiting patiently until the professor is done talking to pack up your things. you're never in a hurry to leave, and beomgyu wonders if you'd be that patient with him. he hangs around like he usually does, stealing glances to watch you pack your supplies, how you put certain things in certain pockets, and catches up to you just as youre walking out the door

he stutters around a greeting and almost forgets what he was planning to say when you smile brightly at him, glossy lips shining and tempting. he struggles to get the words out, but he gets there, explaining how he's been struggling in the subject, and wants to know if you'd ever have the time to tutor him. his jaw almost drops to the ground when you say yes kindly, that you can help him whenever. you give him your number, and he gives you his apartment address, and tries to act very normal about the smell of your vanilla perfume, so potent with you right next to him.

when you guys are settled around his coffee table, he tries to wrap his head around the fact that you're in his space, taking up room in his home. he tries his best to listen as you teach him, soaking up the praising words you give him when he gets answers right -- "you're so good at this, you have nothing to worry about." and yes, you are so patient with him when he gets them wrong, telling him "good try, you'll get it next time, yeah?"

you guys set up a date for next session, and beomgyu watches you round the corner to leave his apartment building for your "safety" but he really just can't take his eyes off you, and when you're out of sight, he's hurrying back into his apartment, claiming the spot you were just sitting in, nearly moaning at how strong your perfume is, still hanging in the air as he fucks his fist dumbly, imagining how you'd praise him, how your "good try" would be condescending, teasing if you saw the way he's been struggling to cum.

but the strong scent of you in his living room gets him there, pulling multiple orgasms out of himself cause he just can't stop, can't get you out of his mind no matter what he does.

✧･ﾟ: *

a/n : longer one for u guys since it's the weekend, hopefully next friday i can post a full fic cause im currently working on like four lol, trying to get on a lil bit of a schedule so i don't run out of content tehe <3

[changbunnies]

Angel of Music (18+)

♡ Pairing: Phantom!Minho x Opera Singer Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: phantom of the opera inspired au, horror themes, dark romance, age gap, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :'), the ending is also a lil dark, sorry!

♡ Word Count: 5.8k

♡ Summary: A phantom exists in the opera house– he controls every production from the shadows, lurks around every dark corner, always watching. In your dreams exists an angel– a guardian that sings to you, guides you, and comforts you. When The Phantom appears before you in your dressing room mirror, you begin to realize that he and your angel may be one in the same.

♡ General Warnings: slightly less extreme age gap than the source material that inspires this fic but it's still fairly large (reader is ~mid 20s and minho is ~40), briefly described attempted murder of minor characters, implications of stalking, hypnotism, hallucinations + doubts of reality, so much usage of the words "phantom" and "angel" it's not even funny, this fic is not an accurate representation of how hypnotism works irl but it's fiction so i'm taking liberties!

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon (due to reader being hypnotized), additionally to not being in their proper state of mind, there are also moments in which reader does not feel to be in full control of their body, light dom/sub dynamics, soft pleasure dom!minho because i want more of him !!, mask kink (does it still count if the mask doesn't cover his whole face?? idk i hope so!), some biting, oral (f rec), overstim, multiple orgasms

♡ Notes: i've known for ages that i wanted to write a phantom!minho fic, and my kinktober series gave me the perfect reason to finally write it! also the fact that both my uploaded minho fics are age gap romances?? that was not intentional i swear lmao

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All inhabitants of the opera house have been on edge these days– consequence of the new owners of the Opera Populaire, who decided to disregard all of The Phantom's demands.

The Phantom, as the name suggests, is a ghost story of sorts. According to your castmates, he has been here since long before you joined the Opera Populaire's trainees last year, but his activity has begun to increase since your arrival.

He controls all in the opera house, and his demands of the previous owner were always quite simple; perform what shows he instructs you to, follow his casting down to the letter, and keep the seats in Box Five free at all times. Evidentially, Box Five is his favorite place to watch the shows from– and sometimes, his dark silhouette can be spotted in the shadows of the booth, indiscernible but unmistakably there.

No one has ever truly seen The Phantom beyond a shadow, nor have they heard him speak. He communicates with notes, always left within feet of the recipient without anyone having seen him come or go. His notes will even appear in broad daylight, with not a single person having caught a glimpse of him despite all the eyes in the room.

Well, more accurately, no one has seen him apart from the Madame– an older woman who used to be a performer for the Opera Populaire herself, but has taken the role of choreographer since her retirement from the stage. In the 15 years it's been since The Phantom made his presence known to the opera house, she's the only one who's ever seen him, or heard his voice.

A brief encounter, she explained when asked about it– had barely seen him for more than a few passing moments. He spoke little, but the beauty of his voice was striking, completely unlike any other she’d ever heard. And all he asked of her, in that fleeting moment, was to remember that the Opera Populaire is his home– and as long as the inhabitants respect him, he'll respect them in turn.

The previous director, the Madame, and The Phantom all had a mutual understanding of what was to be done. As long as they listened to him, shows would go off without a hitch; but refuse, and there'd be dire consequences. As such, the Madame has been doing her best to express the importance of listening to The Phantom to the new owners.

The Monsieurs view it as no more than silly superstition– every opera house has their own beliefs and customs, things they consider good and bad luck before a show, things they view as omens of a show's future success. The Phantom is simply one of those things– and with a guiding hand, they can dispel such superstitions, show the cast and crew that there is no shadowy phantom to fear.

The first note left for the Monsieurs went disregarded– a barking laugh leaving the elder of the two before he tossed it in the bin. The instructions on the note were clear enough– you were to take the role of Eurydice in the opera house's production of Orpheus and Eurydice, and not Carlotta, as they originally casted.

You were just as baffled as everyone else to learn that The Phantom wanted you to take such an important role– you'd only been here a year, were still so new to your opera training. It's true enough that you have a good voice, and your dancing has improved with all your diligent practice, but you're still young, and the tragic role of Eurydice is not so easily performed.

Natural talent for bringing emotion to performance aside, you lack stage experience– experience that you can easily gain from background roles. To make you such a crucial stand-out role after only a year of training was simply unheard of– no opera house would do it!

This is to be your first production, your first time on stage in front of an audience; and so regardless of what The Phantom wants, Monsieur Reyer opted to keep you strictly in the supporting chorus roles, where you would go from shepherdess, to nymph, to spirit as the acts progressed. Not a glamorous, shining position in the cast by any means, but more than enough to help familiarize you with the reality of performing with hundreds of eyes watching.

It wouldn't take long for The Phantom to make his displeasure with the decision known. And what started off as just small accidents and stage mishaps quickly turned violent and dangerous as each week passed with you still not given the role that The Phantom felt you deserved to have.

The first violent turn came during rehearsals for Act 3, right in the middle of Eurydice's climactic aria, when the chandelier above the stage came crashing down. Carlotta was standing directly beneath it just before it fell, and it narrowly missed her– purely because she happened to take a few steps forward whilst singing.

“An unfortunate accident,” the Monsieurs said, “it had nothing to do with The Phantom!” But the veterans of the opera house knew better– and the conductor swore he saw a dark shadow on the scaffolds just before the chandelier fell; a shadow that could belong to none other than The Phantom.

Carlotta screamed as it crashed just mere inches away from her, right where she's just been standing, and cried as everyone rushed to her side to ensure that she was unharmed. Again, the Madame tried to persuade them to heed The Phantom before another such “accident” occurred.

"Good God in Heaven, you're all obsessed! These things just happen sometimes– there is no phantom!" Reyer cried in exasperation over everyone's insistence, still unwilling to give in to the idea that the opera house's ghost was real.

And tonight, just after rehearsals came to a close, another terrible stage accident occurred– this time happening to Monsieur Reyer himself. He was up on the scaffolding when it happened, making sure all the stagehands properly rigged the lights in preparation for tomorrow night's premiere of Orpheus and Eurydice.

He was bent down, inspecting the bulbs and wires, when a dark figure appeared behind him. The shadow wrapped a noose around his neck faster than anyone could even react, pushed him off the scaffolding before swiftly retreating back to the shadows.

Reyer almost didn't survive– he was lucky that the nearby stagehands were quick on their feet and in their wits, managing to grab his arms and pull him up while another cut the rope that served to hang the poor man. And as if the message from the accidents alone weren't clear enough, another note was left behind right in the middle of the stage.

It was astounding, really, that not a single person saw The Phantom leave the note behind– and while some could argue that it was because all eyes were on Reyer, or because the stage became chaos as they worked to save him, the Monsieurs realized that maybe they should start to believe that there really is a ghost inhabiting the Opera Populaire.

The moment the note was noticed, the Madame picked it up, and read it aloud for all to hear. "Again, I remind you that Y/N will play the role of Eurydice. As I instruct, Box Five shall remain open for my use. These seats will not be used by another. This is my final warning– disregard at your own risk."

Realizing they had no choice, lest they wish to continue putting themselves and other cast and crew in danger, the Monsieurs begrudgingly declared you the new Eurydice, right then and there.

Given that you're at every rehearsal, you know Eurydice's lines by heart, and are confident that you can sing them well– but still, you're nervous. It's your first production, the premiere is sold out, is set for tomorrow night, and suddenly you're in one of the most pivotal roles in the entire opera.

You don't even understand why The Phantom is so adamant about giving the role to you; what is it about you that he likes, what is it that he sees in you? You wish you could ask the Madame, but she met him so fleetingly, and so many years ago– she has no way of knowing The Phantom's heart beyond an educated guess.

Sitting before your dressing room mirror, you sigh, utterly exhausted– now that you're Eurydice, it was vital that you do a last minute costume fitting and makeup test. As such, you've been in the opera house hours past the time you'd normally be here. The moon hangs high in the sky now, you're sure; you wonder if you should just spend the night here, sleep in the dressing room instead of making a late trek home.

Regardless, you hope your angel comes to you tonight. You know no one would believe you if you told them, but you really do have a guardian angel; and in your dreams, he comes to you– always when you are most lost and in need of guidance. He's a gentle, calming presence; always comforts you, talks to you sweetly when you're filled with self doubt, sings to you in the most beautiful of voices.

You've never actually seen your angel clearly– only heard his voice calling your name and whispering, singing, in a way that could only be described as angelic in its serenity. In your dreams, he's nothing but a vague, blurry image– even at his most clear, you can't define any of his features.

Still, you think of him fondly– and you suspect that as an angel, you aren't meant to be able to fully perceive him. And your angel always, always, knows when you need him– you suspect that even now, he's waiting; waiting for the moment you fall asleep, so that he can come to your side.

You look at yourself, still dressed as Eurydice. A beautiful, off shoulder bateau gown in the prettiest, purest ivory. There's lace appliques throughout the gown, has a beautiful cinched bodice before the tulle skirt fluffs out. It's elegant, makes you feel like a bride waiting to walk down the aisle.

Your makeup shimmers– extra glitter applied on your eyelids to make sure the stage lights catch it. Your jewelry too, is extravagant– made to sparkle and shine every time a light shines on you, to twinkle with each subtle move you make. It's a shame you have to take it all off just to put it all back on tomorrow– but the effort to make sure everything fits you was necessary.

You reach your hands up to one of your ears, prepare to remove one of your dangling earrings when you hear a voice you know all too well call your name– your angel's voice.

You look around the room, bewildered, but see nothing and no one. And surely you were mistaken– you're still awake! Your angel only comes to you in dreams, and you haven't fallen asleep... right? You are still awake, aren't you?

Again, you hear his voice, another whisper of your name. You rise from your chair, look around the room once more– no one. You turn back to the dressing room mirror, and jump in surprise, realizing that the view reflected in it has changed. You no longer see yourself, or the reflection of the dressing room around you– instead, you see a man.

He looks just as the Madame described her memory of The Phantom– dark hair, and even darker eyes, with a white mask that covers the right half of his face. Not completely– just from his hairline, down to his pretty, plump lips. Every inch of his skin is covered, head to toe, all of his clothes pure black apart from the ornate red vest.

Sleek boots and dark trousers, a tall collar that obscures most of his neck, long sleeves that cover his arms, even gloves covering his hands. He wears a cape, long and as dark as the rest of his clothes, and it blows behind him as if there’s a breeze rolling through.

You’re confused, a little frightened, but you can’t tear your eyes away or will yourself to flee– and as the figure speaks your name, you gasp; he truly has the voice of your angel. But he’s The Phantom, isn’t he? 

The blurry, vague scenery behind him begins to sharpen, coming more distinctly visible to your uncertain eyes. A dark corridor full of candelabra, glowing in dull yellows and shades of orange, held by incorporeal hands with no discernable origin.

What little of your dressing room you see in your peripheral shifts and warps as you stare at him, blur together into dark shadows as the table holding your hairbrush and makeup begin to fade and disappear, leaving the view through the mirror as the only thing you can see.

The figure– your angel, The Phantom?– holds his hand out to you through the mirror, as if the glass that should separate you no longer exists; perhaps it doesn't. Smoke– or maybe fog, mist? you can't be certain– pours into the room as you approach the mirror.

As if under a spell, you reach out to take his hand, thinking not of logic as you follow the beckoning call of your name. Your angel; you trust your angel. He smiles as you place your hand in his, and carefully, you step through the mirror, into the corridor.

Entranced, you stare at him; even with half a mask covering his face, he's utterly beautiful. He appears to be older than you, hints of fine lines beholden around his mouth and eyes, and even that adds to his mysterious charm. He holds your gaze as he takes a step back, a candelabra in his hand now, beckoning you to follow him down the corridor.

You squeeze his hand as you follow, and finally he turns around, walks with purpose as he guides you, glancing behind every so often to look at you in what you think to be adoration. You too, glance behind– and where the mirror once stood is now a desolate, barren wall.

You do not see any hint of your dressing room, or of the mirror you stepped through. And as you continue further down the corridor, the candelabra that were once behind you slowly begin to blink out and vanish from sight, leaving only pitch black darkness behind. A spiral staircase made of stone manifests, and you descend it, hand in hand with your angel.

You're so enchanted and bewildered, you can't seem to find your voice– all you can do is follow, let him guide you along to where it is he wants you to be. Even the staircase dissipates when you've finished descending, and for just a moment, you wonder– is any of this truly real?

Finally, you stand in the middle of a beautiful room, lit candles both resting in more candelabra and strewn about the floor, with dark, intricately woven tapestries hanging from the stone walls. There’s a grand piano, sleek black with gold accents, with even more candles resting atop it, as well as a sheet of music sitting pristine on the music desk, black ink seemingly freshly dried, just waiting to be played. 

There are several mirrors, though only one remains uncovered– the rest are obscured by cloth, for reasons you do not know. There is a bed, in what you suppose would be called a “corner” in this otherwise circular space, inviting and plush in its appearance, with blankets colored a rich red. Naturally, candles surround the bed as well, covering it in a beautifully soft, yellow-orange glow. 

“Where are we?” you finally find your voice to ask, and the man smiles as he beckons you to follow him towards his bed. “We are home,” he replies, and though it’s a strange answer, you feel you understand– yes, you are home. This is home. 

You gaze at him curiously after you sit on the bed, just as comfortable as you expected it to be, and he mimics the way you’ve tilted your head at him. “You’re.. My angel, aren’t you? Or are you The Phantom?” you ask, and the man laughs ever so softly, melodious and beautiful. 

“I am Minho,” he responds, as if that alone is a sufficient enough answer– in a way, you suppose it is. What else is there to know? He is Minho. That is enough.

“I have longed to touch you, to bring you here,” Minho whispers as he reaches one of his gloved hands to your face, strokes your cheek slowly, gently. The sensation, though simple, feels so tender– it sparks something inside you, fills you with a warmth you’ve never felt before. You close your eyes, bask in the comfort his touch provides you. 

You feel his hand move, travel down until his fingers are under your chin. He tilts your head up, and you open your eyes to see him gazing down at you warmly. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, speaking to you as gently as he always does. He’s said it before, in your dreams– that you are beautiful, talented, deserving of all you wish to have.

He never lets you linger on self-doubt, never allows you to think you are lesser than someone else, or undeserving of the opportunities you’ve been granted. Your angel knows you– you think he’s appearing to you now, like this, because he knows you are uncertain of playing Eurydice; he must think that he needs to remind you of just how special you are. 

All of your doubts about tomorrow’s premiere– he will dispel them from your mind, as he always does. He kneels before you, gazing at you carefully as he inches closer to you, his hands softly rubbing over your shoulders and down your arms. His attentive stare as he caresses you makes you breathing quicken, your heart starting to pick up speed.

“Do you trust me?” Minho asks suddenly, and with not an ounce of hesitation, you nod. You’ve no reason not to trust him– in the year it's been since your angel first appeared to you, you’ve always trusted him. There is no one else that makes you feel so secure, so at peace, so.. Loved, cared for. Yes, your angel, Minho, loves you, cares for you like no other. You trust him. 

“I wish to clear your mind of worry and doubt– to make you think only of me, and the music we can make together. I wish to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you," he says, and oh, he knows he shouldn’t be pouring his heart out like this, for it’s too soon, much too soon. But he’s been enamored with you since the first moment you stepped into the Opera Populaire, has been infatuated with you since first hearing the passion in your voice.

He can’t help it, it seems– now that he has you here, in his lair, his defenses falter, all of his desires pouring out of him. To have you here, and to touch you like this, even so simply– it’s everything he’s wanted. And instantly, unconsciously, you reach out to him. Your angel sees you, knows you– you wish to know him too, to understand him the way he does you.

Your mind is somehow as clear as it is hazy– clear, because you know what it is that you want. Regardless of who he is, what he is, you want Minho to have you. Anything he wants, you feel compelled to give, as if it’s all you know; and in this moment, perhaps it is. In the very back reaches of your addled mind, a reminder blares– The Phantom always gets what he wants. 

And what he wants now, most of all, is you; and despite what logic may tell you to feel, you trust him to have you. He sees all that you feel in your expression alone, knows all that you think as if he’s seen into the depths of your mind. Even now, perhaps more than ever before, he sees you. 

Sees all that you are, and all that you want– and a charming smile plays on his lips as you gaze at him with wanton desire to let him take you. To let him have, to give yourself over– you wish to offer yourself wholly to your angel’s desires.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you, a soft press that you could almost call chaste, his hands slowly moving over your body, each soft touch lingering. You don’t feel his gloves anymore, you realize– did he take them off without you noticing? You suppose it doesn’t matter– his hands are warm, a bit rough and calloused against the soft skin of your arms, and you like it.

Even as his kisses become less chaste, deepen as his hands travel to your hips, they remain slow and purposeful. His hands eventually find the bottom of your dress, begin to lift it ever so slowly up your thighs– not to expose you, but so that he can slot himself between your legs. Somehow, innately, you understand this– and easily, you spread your legs for him, allowing him to find his place between them.

His arms wrap around you after, pulling you closer, pressing your body to his. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly by the time he pulls away, breathless as you look to him with eager, impassioned eyes– a gaze that heats his otherwise cold heart. You reach up, bring your hands to his face; he nearly flinches when you touch his mask, though he knows you mean no harm. 

Minho feels himself ugly under his mask– too scarred and disfigured to be appealing to you in any regard; at least like this, with only the good parts of his face on display, you may find him handsome. Your touch is as soft as your gaze, and though perhaps you should, you make no move to remove his mask; you simply rub your thumb over the cold porcelain.

It’s a vulnerable thing, really– how softly you touch his ugliest spots. It doesn’t matter that you can’t see them from beneath his mask– the tender regard you seem to feel for him, even without having seen the scars that mar him, is more than enough. It’s ironic, in a way, that you seem to think he’s an angel; in reality, the only angel in this room is you. 

“I want to please you, if you'll let me,” he breathes as his fingertips ghost over your thighs. It makes your breath hitch, blinking at him slowly as you process his intent. There is much your angel wants– but chasing the pleasure of his own flesh isn’t one of those things. He doesn’t need it to feel satisfied; your pleasure will more than suffice him.

His dark eyes bore into yours as he awaits your answer, can tell from his wanting gaze how serious he is about pleasing you, and it makes your cheeks slowly bloom with heat. And it’s not just what he wants– it’s what he needs, really; when you surrender yourself to him, he wants it to be for your pleasure, not his own. 

“Oh, please– touch me,” you answer, plead– because something from deep inside you screams for it, wanting it beyond all comprehension. Your darkest, most innate desires manifest for him; desires that you didn’t even fully realize you had. They possess you, drive you to kiss him again, urgent and passionate. 

Minho returns your kiss with equal fervor, lets his tongue slip past his lips to meet yours. They share a dance, swirl around each other until you’re breathless again; and then he’s guiding you back, urging you to lay down as he hovers over you. He pulls the skirt of your dress further up your body, until your thighs are entirely exposed and he can see your dampening panties. 

He lowers himself to you, but doesn’t go immediately where you expect him too– he takes his time trailing wet, lingering kisses over your thighs instead. Your inner thighs are sensitive, ticklish, and you can’t help but squirm from each kiss he grants you.

You also can’t help but jolt each time the cool porcelain of his mask presses against the hot skin of your thigh, and again when he carefully sinks his teeth into your pliant flesh. He doesn't do it hard enough to hurt, or even fully leave indents of his teeth behind– just enough to leave you panting and squirmy; and he lets out a soft, airy laugh every time he succeeds in the endeavor. 

Your bunched up skirt is so full that you can hardly even watch him work you up; but there are times, while kissing and biting over your trembling thighs, that he lifts his head just enough to let you catch his gaze. It makes your heart skip a beat, butterflies dancing in your stomach every time he locks eyes with you while kissing around where you need him most.

You reach a point where you’re no longer squirming because his attention tickles, but because you’re becoming desperate, impatient; and the way he stares at you as he does it all doesn't help in the slightest. “Minho, please,” you whine, shameless; and you can feel him smile against your skin before he lifts himself up from his place between your legs. 

“Needy are we, angel?” he asks, grinning as you pout and nod. “Need you,” you mumble, but he hears you loud and clear; he’s attuned to you, your angel is. He lowers himself between your thighs once more, kisses your pussy over your panties– and it’s not quite what you need, but it’s enough to have you gasping and quivering. 

Again, he takes his time, as if not a single ounce of urgency resides within him. And make no mistake, it does– but Minho knows how to restrain himself. He’s a stubborn man, that is certainly true, but he’s also perfectly in control of himself; for now, anyways. 

And he likes the way you whine for him when you feel his tongue lick you up over the fabric of your panties. It’s not a full enough feeling for you, or a full enough taste of your pussy for him, but the desperate, whiny sounds it draws out of you are delicious enough to satisfy him.  

Still, while he’s enjoying the way his soft kisses and kitten licks over your panties is making you writhe and cry for him, he also can’t deny how badly he wants to finally taste you directly on his tongue. He’s been patient enough, he thinks, and so have you– why not indulge just a little sooner than planned?

In contrast to how sweetly he’s treated you up to this point, he’s quick to tear your panties away from your body. The sound of the fabric ripping makes you gasp, and maybe later he’ll apologize– but for now, lapping his tongue between your folds is of more importance. You moan when his tongue finally meets your bare pussy, as does Minho– and despite the hunger that he feels, he continues to lick you over slowly. 

The languid pace makes you crazy– you want more, so much more, but your angel has been waiting for this; he needs to take his time with you, needs to embed the taste of your dripping sex on his tongue, needs to make sure it’s something he’ll never be able to forget. And he isn’t trying to tease you by keeping the slow pace– well, maybe he is a little; he does enjoy it, after all– but he’s sincerely craved this for too long to let the moment quickly pass him by. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, squeezing them in his hands and preventing you from closing them around his head. You’re sure it’s partly so he can keep you spread out for him, to keep enjoying the easy access to your pussy, but it’s also so that your trembling thighs don’t cause his mask to shift, and fall from his face. 

You gasp when the cool, smooth and rigid porcelain covering the right side of his nose bumps your clit as he shoves his tongue into your hole. And while he isn’t purposely trying to get you to cum just yet, his slow but diligent ministrations are getting you there regardless– with his tongue dipping in and out of your heat, always pushing in as deep as he can make it go, and his mask-covered nose nudging your clit. 

You let your head fall back against the bed, your every high pitched whimper and moan echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You try to tell him you’re going to cum, but you fail miserably– all that leaves you is a quick succession of whines before your eyes are rolling, back bowing off the bed as release on his tongue. Minho moans with you, hums happily as he licks the mess from your pussy like the cat that got the cream. 

He laves over your clit when he’s done licking up your cum– and it's sensitive, swollen from your orgasm; but that doesn’t stop him from swirling his tongue around it, and positively knocking the air from your lungs. The sensation is overwhelming, he knows it is even without you telling him, but it’s still so good that you don’t want to squirm away, or ask him to stop– or perhaps you can’t. 

You get the distinct feeling that even if you tried, your limbs would resist, would fight to keep you in place– despite your best efforts, you would remain just as you are now. Spread open and trembling, exactly how Minho wants you. “You make the prettiest music, angel,” he separates from you long enough to speak, “want you to keep singing for me.”

And sing for him you do when he dives back in, flicks your clit with his tongue a few times before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like a piece of hard candy. Your moans, the smacking sounds of his lips, the way he hums when he returns to your hole to collect the cream– it’s an orchestra, just for the two of you.

You cum again in record time, of course you do. Minho finds it cute, the way you incoherently babble away as you let go for him again. And he isn’t done just because you came again– no, he’s far from finished with your pussy. He doesn’t tire in the slightest, ceaseless in the way he lavishes with you his tongue and suckles with his pretty, perfect lips. 

When you cum for the third time, you don’t even know if you truly ever stop cumming at all– the pleasure just keeps coming in waves, never fully receding before it builds again, washing over you like a tsunami before it all repeats. You writhe and twist, back repeatedly bowing off his bed before falling back, but your thighs stay spread for him, even when his hands stop holding them down. 

His hands have found their way beneath you, cupping and squeezing your ass as he eats away. Your hips wriggle, and he helps grind you up against his face, moaning and humming all the while. It’s too much and not enough all at once; your body screams that it can’t take it, and yet your mind screams that it needs more, and God, you can’t think straight– but is there any point in this night that you were?

You’re hot and heaving, sweat dripping from your brow as you tremble and bend. Minho is hot too, of course– his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his face red from his cheeks to his ears, and even down his neck. And were you not so far gone, you’d have noticed that his mask has shifted and fallen from his face. 

It was because of you, too– when another high took you and tugged on his hair hard, crying as your hips jolted and bucked against his face. He should’ve swiftly put it back on, lest you see his scars, but he didn’t– he just shoved it aside, against his better judgment, so he could keep licking you up without interruption. 

You feel positively delirious by the time he’s finished, eyes heavy and bleary, body utterly limp and boneless. He crawls his way up to you, and your gaze is unfocused, blurry; you can hardly distinguish his features anymore– similar to the way he always appeared in your dreams before now.

Regardless, you smile at him before you close your eyes; a weak, but content one that Minho finds oh so endearing. You’re beyond fatigued, but also feel an unmatched sense of elation as your angel strokes your head and whispers sweet nothings for you to fall asleep to. “You belong to me now,” you hear him say, just before you drift off– and you know it’s true. 

You think, perhaps, you’ve always belonged to him. From the very first moment Minho saw you, he knew he was never going to let you go. And just as Orpheus had done for Eurydice, he’d gladly walk into the depths of Hades itself if that’s what it took to keep you by his side. 

He gently caresses your cheek as you fall into a deeper sleep, presses a soft kiss to your lips and whispers a final soft utterance of love before he covers you with a blanket, and your mind goes completely dark for the night. 

You wake the next day with a struggle– at least, you think it’s the next day; it’s too dark in the room you’re in to tell for certain. You reach out for Minho, but don’t feel him anywhere– and as you sit up, and your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize that you are alone. Your brows furrow as you look around; you’re still in his room, but it doesn’t look quite the same. 

There are no candles, not on the floor or in the candelabra that now lie empty. The tapestries adorning the walls are torn and dulled in color, the piano dusty and the gold decorating it chipped. The sheet of music that sits on the piano’s music desk, that last night looked so fresh and pristine, now appears weathered and yellowed.

As you grab the blanket to pull it off you, you realize it isn't a blanket at all that is covering you, but a cape– Minho’s cape. And on the bed, just an arm’s reach away from you lies a note– the same kind that The Phantom always leaves behind inside the Opera Populaire.

Your hand trembles as you pick it up, eyes straining to read it in the darkness. The message he leaves behind, when your eyes focus on the words well enough to read them, is quite simple. “To my beloved and beautiful Eurydice; welcome home.”

[haetrack]

haechan is always so cute when he wears those thick-rimmed glasses that it kinda just makes me wanna ruin him. imagine him looking up at you with pleading eyes and those cute glasses tilted on his face while you ride him. it’d be even better if he’s all messy, tears falling freely and his brain all muddled because all he can think about is you and how badly he wants to cum.

i NEED to hear ur thoughts on this.. it’s been a wip in my drafts for like a week i’m going insane

THIS BUT WITH NERD!HAECHAN. i need to sit down and take a breath... everyone stand back. part 2 part 3

-

“my pretty boy, what’s wrong?”

you know what’s wrong, you’re teasing him. you’re on his lap, slowly riding him as he tries to hold back cries and whimpers. his head is tilted back, his neck practically begging to be kissed. you lean forward, pressing soft, wet kisses all over. he gives up on holding back his sounds, whining out to you as he grips tightly on your hips.

“please,” he lets out a choked whimper, “just wanna cum, wan’ you to let me cum.”

he tilts forward, trying to kiss you. you move out of the way, laughing at how he tries to chase your lips. your hand grips his face, cooing at how he looks up at you with his pretty eyes. he looks dazed, already so fucked-out with just you on top of him. you haven’t even given him what he really wants, just grinding down your hips as he twitches inside of you.

“mm, it feels nice like this, though. you feel so good inside of me.”

he nods, eyes fluttering shut as you clench around him. he can’t beg, taking what you give him without complaining. he never thought this would happen, never thought you’d fuck him like this. all the nights he’s spent fisting his cock to the thought of you can’t compare to this, even if you’re practically ignoring him. he lets out a shaky breath, his blunt nails digging into the skin of your hips.

“won’t you tell me how bad you want this, my pretty baby?”

he fights off a moan, biting the inside of his cheek before he speaks, “want this so bad, thought of you so much and i just- just wanna cum.”

“aw,” you pout, “all you wanna do is cum? thought you wanted to hang out with me, too.”

he quickly shakes his head, sitting up a bit more straight, “n-no! i do! i like you so much, i want to be with you, want you to fuck me!”

a wry smile appears on your face, “that’s all i needed to hear, baby.”

you almost pull off of him before slamming your hips down. he lets out a loud cry, his hips chasing yours as he tries desperately not to cum so fast. he can’t let this end, can’t let the sight of you on top of him go. you look down at him with hooded eyes, your gaze and how good you feel against him making his face go hot.

his glasses become foggy, the sight of your teasing smile getting lost behind the fog. he whines out in embarrassment, the back of his hand reaching up to messily wipe away at the fog. he shoves his glasses a little too hard, too focused on how your warm walls suck him in deeply.

you laugh out at his crooked glasses, cooing as you fix them, “you’re so excited, so excited that you're drooling and being all clumsy.”

he nods, not trusting his shaky voice. it fails though, feeling your thumb press against his mouth, swiping at the drool that’s slipped out. he wasn’t even aware he was drooling, your body pressed against him being almost too much for him to handle. he can feel your nipples against his chest, his back arching to meet press harder against your chest.

your thumb traces his bottom lip, “suck.”

he listens, two of your fingers sliding into his mouth as he swirls his tongue around them. you’re all over him, he wants to stay like this forever. he might just be a little too obsessed with you like this, taking all that you want from him as he sits there, allowing you to do whatever.

your fingers slide out of his mouth, opting to trail under his shirt, moving to his chest. he lets out a loud whimper as he feels your wet fingers toy with his nipples. he can’t help how his hips stutter against you, the stimulation becoming too much. he can feel how tears begin to build in his eyes, pleasure consuming him.

“doesn’t this feel so nice?” you realize he’s not listening to you, watching him moan freely as his hands grip your thighs. you slow down your pace, grinding down on his cock as you try to ignore how his tip hits your sweet spot. you pinch his nipple, his chest arching into yours as he almost cums on the spot.

“pay attention to me,” you whine, “or else i’ll make myself cum on your cock and leave you here all by yourself.”

he lets out a shaky breath, “s-sorry. it just feels too good, you fuck me so good.” his eyes look up at you, losing focus as he sees the grin on your face. he has to tell himself to pay attention, tries to refocus as your hips begin to bounce against him again. the sound of skin against skin, the harsh sting of your nails digging into his skin making his cock twitch. he loves it all.

he realizes he’s crying when you press kisses against his cheeks, tongue swiping out to lick them up. you can feel his warm breath fan across your face, whispers of your name filling the little space between the both of you. when you lean back, his eyes bore into yours, “can i please cum? wanna fill you up…”

you smile, hand reaching up to wipe a stray tear off his cheek. you clean his glasses for him, wiping them against his shirt before placing them back on his nose. he thanks you, hips pushing inside of you, trying to remind you what he really wants. you move his hands back to your hips, feeling how he grips at the flesh, taking you all in.

“i’ll give my baby whatever he wants.”

you hear him whisper out a small thank you as you move faster, feeling how restless he’s become. he doesn’t care about how loud he’s being, doesn’t care about how much he might seem like a desperate loser right now. none of it matters when you’re here right now, your eyes watching his face, drinking up all his sounds.

when he realizes he’s close to cumming, he moves his hands up to your waist and pulls you close to him. his eyes look into yours before deeply kissing you. it’s messy, tongues moving against each other as drool slides down your chin. you can feel how hot his face is, imagining how his glasses are probably fogged up again.

you don’t care, feeling his hands reach for whatever he can grab as his hips rut into yours as he cums inside of you. spurts of cum shoot into you, his cock twitching with every movement you make. he’s moaning into your mouth, trying to fight off the overstimulation as you cum around his cock, fueled by his pretty moans and face.

he tries to push at your hips, but they move on their own as you ride him. his spent cock twitches inside of you, the pain bleeds into pleasure as you fuck yourself onto him. he can feel you slow down, pulling out of him. he realizes that it’s all over, suddenly wanting you close again. he moans out, “don’t want this to end, want you here, wan’ you to use me whenever. please, please don’t go.”

“why can’t we go for a round two?” you grin.

[crimeronan]

i've seen a couple people in the notes of this very good post about fictional polyamory by @thebibliosphere say things along the lines of "oh, i've been doing it wrong :(" or "how do i know if i did this right??" or "i should probably give up and start over, i wrote this badly :(" and. no!!!!

(i AM seeing far MORE people say "oh, this clarified and helped me so much, i think i know how to fix issues i've been having with my own story" which. YES!!!!)

listen. if you're a monogamous person who's writing a polyamorous relationship, and you've been focusing mainly on The Triad and All Three Together All The Time as the endgame, that's literally fine. that's a perfectly acceptable and strong starting point for your plotting, imo. you do not need to give up on a story that you've started like this.

but the things discussed in the post Can and Should improve your execution!

you can keep the same plot beats and overall relationship arc 100%. polyamorous relationships are infinite in their formations, every one is unique. "basically a monogamous romance but with three people" Does exist, as a relationship type. you're not hashtag Misrepresenting (TM) poly people with it

BUT i do think it will help to read up on some poly people talking about how their relationships Differ from monogamous ones.

so i have outlined some basic important concepts about polyamory.

MORE IMPORTANTLY though, i've broken down some questions that you can answer throughout the writing process to strengthen your individual dyad relationships, your individual characterization, & your characters' individual feelings/experiences. this is a writing resource have fun

future kitkat butting in to say i spent over two hours writing this and it definitely needs a readmore. it is also NOT comprehensive. but everything should be pretty simple to follow! feel free to reblog if you find it helpful yourself or just want to reward me for how gotdan long this took KSLDKFJKDL.

i've grabbed quick links for a couple of the important concepts, some have SEO pitches in them but the info largely seems to be good. (if i missed anything Egregiously Gross on these sites i should be able to update the links with better ones later, since they're under the readmore.)

sidenote: this is NOT meant to be overwhelming, despite the length. if you can't read all of this, that's Okay. you do not need to give up on your writing.

here we go:

compersion!

compersion is a BIG thing in a lot of polyamorous relationships. it's joy derived from seeing two (or more) of your partners happy together, or joy derived from seeing your partner happy with someone else.

compersion is really important as a concept because it highlights that every individual relationship within a polycule is different -- and that that's a GOOD thing. it's sort of the inverse of jealousy.

by the "inverse of jealousy," i mean that instead of feeling left out and upset and possessive, you feel happy/joyous/content.

i can use personal experience as an example: it's a Relief for me when my partners receive joy/support/sex/romance/etc that i can't (or prefer not to) give them. and i love seeing my partners make each other laugh and be silly together.

it's 100% okay for a poly triad not to be together 100% of the time, it doesn't mean that the third member is being left out or not treated equally when two people do things alone together.

(i have individual dates with my partners all the time! PLUS larger 3-and-4-person date nights.)

if the third member DOES feel jealous or left out, then the polycule can have a conversation to figure out what needs/wants aren't being met, and solve that. this happens semi-regularly in my polycule, as it will happen in any relationship (including monogamous ones)! it's just part of being an adult, sometimes you have to talk about feelings.

metamours!

a metamour is someone who is dating your partner, but ISN'T dating you. this may not be relevant for people writing closed three-person romantic sexual triads, but it's a super helpful term to know.

the linked article also lists different types of metamour relationships with some fun phrasing i hadn't heard before. the tl;dr is: sometimes you'll be domestic cohabitation friends, sometimes you'll be buddies with your own friendship, sometimes you might not interact much outside of parties, every relationship is different.

there's no one-size-fits-all requirement for metamour relationships. sometimes polyamorous people will end up dating their metamour after a while (has happened to me), sometimes polyamorous people will break up with one partner for normal life reasons, but remain friendly metamours.

the goal of polyamory is NOT for EVERYONE to fall in love. it is 100% okay if this happens in your story, it happens in real life too! but it is also 100% okay for characters to be metamours without ever becoming "more than friends."

(sidenote: try to kill any internalized "more than" that you have when it comes to friendship. friends are just as important and special and vital as partners.)

of course there are a million ways for messiness to occur with metamours within a complex polycule, exactly like with close-knit platonic friend groups. however this post is not about that! there's enough "here's how polyamory can go wrong" stuff out there already, so i'm focusing on the positives here :)

open versus closed polyamorous relationships!

i'm struggling to find an online article that reflects my experience without directly contradicting at least SOME stuff. so i'll give a quick rundown

google has a bunch of conflicting definitions of open relationships and whether open relationships are different from polyamory. the general consensus seems to be that an open relationship prioritizes one partnership (often a marriage), but that each partner can have extraneous flings or long-term commitments (most often sexual in nature).

this is not typically how i use the term wrt polyamory. the poly concept is pretty simple. a closed polyamorous relationship is one with boundaries like a monogamous one. there are multiple partners in the polycule, but they are not interested in having anybody new join said polycule.

an open polyamorous relationship tends to be more flexible -- it just means that IF someone in the polycule develops mutual feelings for a new person, it's fine for them to become part of said polycule if they want to! the relationship/person is open to newcomers.

some groups will need to negotiate this all together, others will just go "haha, you kids have fun." just depends on the individuals!

with open AND closed polyamorous relationships, the most important thing is making sure that there's respectful communication and that everyone is on the same page. but there's no one-size-fits-all way to do that.

i wish i could give you guys a prescriptive "You Must Do It This Way" guide, but that's.... basically the opposite of what polyamory is about, HAHA.

feelings for multiple people!

i was gonna tack this on to the previous section but decided it warranted its own lil bit.

a defining feature (....i'm told?) of monogamous relationships is that a monogamous person only has feelings for One individual at a time. they only want a relationship with one individual at a time. or, if they DO have feelings for multiple people simultaneously, they're still only comfortable dating one person at a time & being exclusive with that one person.

this is perfectly fine!

the poly experience is generally different from this. but once again..... polyamorous people all have different individual perspectives on this.

for me, i have never been able to draw hard boxes around romantic vs sexual vs platonic relationships, & i love many people at once. my personal polycule lacks many strict definitions beyond "these are my chosen people, i want to forge a life with them indefinitely, whatever shape that life takes"

some poly people feel explicit romantic or sexual attraction to multiple people at once, some poly people feel almost no romantic or sexual attraction at all. i'd say that MOST poly people feel different things for different partners, which is not a bad thing!

some poly people are even monogamous-leaning -- they have just chosen one romantic partner who is themselves part of a larger polycule. (so this monogamous-leaning person has at least one metamour!)

or alternatively, they might have one romantic partner AND a qpr, or other ways of defining relationships. (this is a factor in my own polycule!)

i made this its own point because if you're writing a straightforward triad, this is unlikely to come up in the story itself -- but it's worth thinking about how your characters develop/handle feelings outside of their partnerships.

like, is this sort of a soulmateship, 'these are the only ones for me' type deal? in which they won't fall in love with anyone else, and can be fairly certain of that?

that's pretty close to typical monogamous standards but you Can make it work. just be thoughtful with it

alternatively, can you see any of these characters falling in love Again after the happily-ever-after? and how would the triad approach it, if so? what would they all need to talk about beforehand, and what feelings would everybody have about the situation?

it's worth considering these questions even if the hypothetical will never feature in your actual canon, because knowing the answers to these questions will help you understand all of the individuals & their relationship(s) MUCH better.

i've been typing this for nearly two hours and there's a lot more i COULD say because... there's just a lot to say. i'll close out with some quick questions that you can ask yourself when developing the dyad dynamics within your triad

first, take a page and create a separate section for each individual dyad. then answer these questions for every pair:

how does each pair act when alone?

how do they act differently alone compared to when they're with their third partner?

are there any elements of this dyad (romantic, sexual, financial, domestic, etc) that these two people DON'T have with the third partner?

if so, what are they?

are there any boundaries or hard limits within this dyad that aren't shared with the third partner?

if so, what are they?

partner 3 goes out of town alone for a few weeks. what are the remaining two doing in their absence?

(doesn't have to be anything special, it's just to get a sense of how the two interact on a day-by-day basis without the third there)

what is something that each partner in the dyad admires about the other -- that they DON'T necessarily see in the third partner?

what problem do These Two Specifically need to solve in the story before their relationship will work?

how is that problem DIFFERENT from the problems being solved within the other two dyads?

doing this for ALL THREE dyads is VITAL imo. that way, you develop complex and nuanced and different relationships that all have unique dynamics.

those questions should be enough to get you started, i hope

then After you've charted the differences in relationships, you can start to jot down similarities in the overarching triad. what does one person admire in Both of their partners? what are activities that all three like to do together? what are boundaries or discussions that all three share?

but the main goal is to figure out how to Differentiate each relationship!

a polycule is only as strong as the individual relationships within it. if two people are struggling with their own relationship, adding a third person won't fix that.

(UNLESS the third person is the catalyst for those two to, like, Actually Communicate And Work Their Shit Out. i just mean that the old adage of "maybe if we just add a third-" works about as well to fix a miserable non-communicative marriage as, uh, "maybe if we have a baby-")

AND FINALLY.

if you're not sure whether your poly romance reads organically to poly people, you can hire a sensitivity reader with poly experience. if you can't afford that, you can read up on polyamorous resources like a glossary of terms & articles actually written by poly people. (and stories written by poly people!)

you can also just.... ask poly people questions, if they're open to it. i like talking about polyamory and my own relationships so you're welcome to send asks if u want, i just can't guarantee i'll answer bc my energy levels fluctuate a lot and i don't always have time.

polyamorous people are in an uphill battle for positive representation right now & so the LAST thing i want to see is authors giving up on their stories bc they're worried about getting things Wrong. well-meaning and positive stories that treat this kind of love as normal, healthy, & aspirational are So So So Needed. even if you guys end up with some funky-feeling details.

seriously, if you're monogamous then you probably don't have a full idea of Just How Nasty a lot of people can get about polyamory. i wish it DIDN'T mean so much for you guys to want to write nice stories about us, but it does mean a lot. and it means a lot that you want to do it WELL.

in conclusion. this is not a prescriptive guide, it's just a way to raise questions. and also, you all are doing FINE.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

how do you think bf!ateez would be like with a shy gf? :o

the ones who silently take care of you: seonghwa, san

nobody can convince me otherwise that hwa and san would not lay down their lives to make sure that you feel comfortable so long as you are with them. they are both extremely perceptive and know what you want or need before you even do. you want a tissue from the box but you're too shy to ask the strangers on the table beside you for one? he's already asked and placed the tissues in your hand. you're meeting his friends for the first time and you're nervous to talk to them? he's already told his friends in advance to make you feel welcome without overwhelming you with questions. they thrive off being able to protect and care for you in all these little ways, and the cute smiles, appreciative hugs and bashful pecks you give them in return? anything you ask for and don't ask for, they will move heaven and earth to give to you

the ones who make sure you are okay: hongjoong, mingi

honestly, i think both joong and mingi would wonder at first if you being quiet and withdrawn has something to do with them. are they doing or saying something that is making you feel uncomfortable? or they might wonder if something is going on in your life, like with your friends or family. they probably ask you every now and then just to check in and make sure you're okay and that nothing is wrong. but they come to understand that it's just your personality and you're naturally shy, so you need time to feel confident or warm up to settings and situations. they might take a more proactive approach to help you with your shyness–not in the sense that they want you to overcome it, but more in the sense to help you feel more at ease and less nervous, especially when they are not there for you. they encourage you in small ways to step outside of your comfort zone, but of course the moment they see that it might be too much for you, joong and mingi are stepping right in to help you. no matter what, you know that they are always watching you and have your back

the ones who are just as shy as you are: yeosang, jongho

it's probably a constant back and forth of finding each other endearing LOL. i feel like with yeo and jongho, because they are both also quite shy, a relatively new relationship would give such puppy love vibes. there are a lot of bashful giggles and awkward eye contact when you catch each other stealing glances at one another. in situations that might require confrontation, like the waiting staff confirming the wrong order when you're on a date at a restaurant, you would look at him and he would look at you and neither of you would correct the staff. that's the charm of your relationship though. you both go with the flow that doesn't make either of you uncomfortable, and it's very relaxed and easy-going. and let's be real, you both probably go home afterwards and laugh about (and shit-talk) the situations that neither of you were going to speak up about. introversion and shyness is just a part of the relationship and it works for you all

the ones who bring you out of your shell: yunho, wooyoung

their infectious energy and easy banter just makes it impossible for you to be shy around them. it does take a while at first, but once you're comfortable with them? shy girl who??? i feel like yun and woo just have a way of drawing out your hidden mischief and occasional brattiness, and god do they feel a sense of giddiness to know that they are one of the only people you show this side of yourself to. at the same time though, they are able to reign themselves in when a situation calls for it and they are extremely dependable. they make sure that you know you can rely on them in situations you aren't comfortable with, like if you're in an unfamiliar setting or a situation that requires confrontation. all in all, shyness doesn't exist when you are with yunho or wooyoung, but when certain people or environments bring that shyness back, they're right there for you to lean on

[markscherz]

Hot damn. Great question, I'd love to tell you.

High Fantasy

Look, this rainfrog is called Breviceps bagginsi, so I don't have a lot of choice, now do I?

[src]

Also, I would go with them to the end. Into the very fires of Mordor.

Low Fantasy

Phyllomedusine hylids have a certain weird clown marionette vibe to them. Just look at these Pithecopus rohdei.

[src]

Lovecraftian

The male Rhinoderma darwinii raises his tadpoles in his vocal sac.

Sci-Fi

Gephyromantis pseudoasper sometimes wear handsome stripes—very Space Age™

But more importantly, their calls evoke a battle with laser-blasters.

I filmed this calling male in 2017 at an obscene hour of the morning.

Horror

Trichobatrachus robustus, aka the Hairy Frog, has flanks and thighs covered in weird, hair-like outgrowths that increase oxygen exchange over its skin, and BREAKS ITS FINGERS TO STAB YOU WITH CLAWS MADE OF BONE

[src]

Romance

Breviceps males physically glue themselves to the back-ends of females, and if that's not romance, I don't know what is.

[src]

Comedy

Nyctimantis arapapa are probably amongst the funniest-looking frogs out there.

[src]

Adult

The 'poly' in Polypedates may be a double entendre

[src]

Crime and Mystery

Calyptocephalella gayi is a Galaxy Brain frog.

[src]

Speculative

Myobatrachus gouldii is basically what would happen if you decided to try to build a turtle, but you only had frog pieces in the kit.

[src]

[keferon]

Oh hey Orion time? Orion time

Anyways. So Ratchet. Do you think he knew Orion back then too? Were he and Shockwave and Orion all friends and then Shockwave doing all of that caused Ratchet to leave? Or at least is a reason he left? Ratchet probably had to be the one to deliver the news about Orion too, so

Oh fuck. Oh no. Oh they definitely were friends YES. Ratchet would stick around for quite some time after Orion's death but yeah. It would fuck him up and traumatize. Severely. And then looking at what Shockwave has become is just. Too much for him.

[crimsonbubble]

mingi loves wearing jewelry right? imagine those hands with all of the rings touching you and those necklaces hanging in front of your face when hes inside you

hehehehhehehe

Rings of Temptation

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, hand kink, fingering, mirror sex, praise, pussy slapping, squirting *not proofread, just pure horny

[mingi has been all up in my head recently and I dont even know how he got here]

taglist (dm to be tagged); @sidusvenari @sugarnspice630 @ravenempress101 @autieofthevalley @linearities @wisejudgedragonhairdo @madiexuberant @mifuelarts @straytiny127 @yun-fangz @huen1ngk4i @juyeonshour @uniq-tastic @hongjng8 @miyaluvvsyou @everyonewooeverywhere

The state that your boyfriend has you in is pitiful. Sitting all pretty and spread out on his lap in front of his full-length mirror. Mingi sits with your back to his chest, hooking your knees over his to keep your messy cunt on full display for him.

Mingi ghosted his lips over your pulse point, laughing when you shudder. “Such a good girl for me, yea? Look at how pretty you are, making such a mess on me.” Mingi slips his fingers out of you, using his middle two digits to lewdly spread your folds. You whined as he shamelessly stared at your aching cunt, letting his thumb rub against your clit.

You clawed at his forearm, jolting in his lap when he roughly smacks your pussy. He laughs against your shoulder, harshly tapping your clit with three fingers before smacking it again. Your thighs trembled as Mingi plunged his fingers into you again, his rings pressing against your messy hole.

“Look at yourself, princess. Look at how your needy cunt squeezes my fingers.” The second you look, you can’t look away. You knew Mingi’s hands were big, but seeing them pressed up against your pretty cunt made them look that much bigger. You greedily drank in the way your pussy gripped his fingers, whimpering pathetically when his rings brush against you.

The thick metal of his rings is cold, making you quiver every time he buries his fingers in you. As you trained your eyes on the way Mingi spread you open on his fingers, you didn’t take notice of his sharp eyes watching you. “It’s the rings, isn’t it?” You blinked rapidly, heat rushing through you as Mingi finally caught onto why you were staring so fucking hard at his hands earlier.

“You like seeing me wear rings, hm? I bet you think about this all the time, huh?” Mingi’s pace quickened tenfold, his fingers curling to hit your sweet spot with every pump. “Thinkin’ about me fucking your needy cunt open on my fingers huh? Wanted me to finger you with my rings on, is that it, princess?” You nodded hastily, clinging onto his wrist as he abused your sweet spot.

More arousal continued to gush out of you and around Mingi’s fingers. Your body is strung so high, clinging onto Mingi like a lifeline. “C’mon baby, make a mess on me. Make a mess on my fingers like a good girl.” His voice deepened as he mercilessly hooked his fingers into your sweet spot. The pressure in your gut was different, it felt much stronger.

Mingi smirked against your neck, sucking more hickeys into your heated skin. He felt the way your pussy throbbed and squeezed his fingers, pulling them out and circling the wet digits over your clit. “There we go, baby. Just like that. Such a good girl. My good girl.” Your hips jolted off his lap, your nails digging into his forearm as Mingi rubbed his fingers over your clit.

He kissed up your neck as he slipped his fingers into your sore cunt, curling his fingers against your sweet spot and making more slick gush out of you. He repeated the same process; curling his fingers into your sweet spot only to pull out a second later and rub over your clit. You’re left a limp mess in his lap, soaked in your own arousal. It even managed to splash onto the mirror.

Your poor cunt is sore and beyond sensitive but that doesn’t stop Mingi from spreading your slick folds and watching how you pulse and throb around nothing. You whine and thrash in his lap, pushing at his wrist as he rubs his thumb over your swollen clit. “Just one more, baby. I need to see you make a mess again.”

[koolaidashley]

even as a regular little turtle leo still loves to do the :P face lmao

Evolution

[elllisaaa]

crazy question but i need to know… when is the sex better - when sunghoon is being jealous or when you are the one being jealous?

i’m always here yapping about him, but you only fuel my love and affection for him and i love it, i can never get enough <3

not a crazy question at all honestly, it's pretty sane coming from you AND considering you're talking about sunghoon sweetie.

SUNGHOON + JEALOUS SEX feels good anyway.

when he's the one being jealous, it's undoubtedly rough and incredibly mean. he's calling you a slut, holding your hands or hips, edging you until you're crying and your makeup is all ruined, fucking your mouth until your jaw is stiff as hell, pounding into your cunt until your legs go numb and the only thing you're able to do is to beg him to let you cum and have mercy on you. the whole time, sunghoon has a smug smirk on his face, his fangs peeking out when he coos at you when you're screaming out his name, and everything is doing is so attractive, and he's so composed when you're a mess it's maddening in the best way possible. when sunghoon is jealous, he's ruining you and fucking you into next week but it all feels so good you won't ask him to stop.

"fucking slut, couldn't even wait an hour you had to touch me some other men in public right ? acting like a bitch in heat just because you need someone to fill your tight little cunt all the damn time. brace yourself doll, i'm not letting you cum until you remember who you belong to."

but in my opinion, it's even better when you're the one getting jealous. first of all, sunghoon loves it when you stand up for yourself or get mad because you look especially hot when you're in this state. in these moments, he's proud that you're his girlfriend, but he's even more proud of the fact that he's yours. so when this energy is directed to the waitress who has been checking him out and blatantly flirting with him the whole time you've been here, even if you had made it clear he was taken, sunghoon loves it even more. the way your hand is sitting on his thigh when she comes back to bring your desserts is your way to claim him and he loves it, but what turns him on even more is the way you're telling her to back off because she could never satisfy him like you could. and that's true, but the fact that you know it makes his smile widen as he listens to your rambling while you're eating.

whenever you're feeling like this, you cannot wait to be home to remind your boyfriend that you own him too. you just have to sit on sunghoon's lap in the car, kissing him hungrily and taking over his tongue, devouring his mouth. and sunghoon lets you take the reins gladly, his hands resting on your hips but not forcing you to move because you're the one in control this time. "she can't take a fucking hint, gotta have to remind everyone that you're mine baby." - "go on doll, do whatever you want with me."

and that was all you needed to mark down his whole neck with hickeys and bite marks, grinding down on his boner and making him moan. your possessiveness excites him even more, and by the time you're done covering him with purple marks, he was already leaking in his boxer. the way you ride him as if you wanted to milk him dry has sunghoon throwing his head back, eyes closed and mouth opened, letting out all sorts of noises. he's letting you do all the talking, getting more desperate to cum every time another string of dirty words escape your lips.

"i'm the only one who can make you feel like this baby, right ? i'm the only one who can take your cock like that." "louder, hoon. i want everyone to hear how good i'm making you feel." "you're gonna cum ? do it inside, this way no one is going to ever doubt that you belong to me again."

sunghoon cums the hardest when you whisper all these things to him with a smirk on your face, and he's almost on the verge of tears from the way your pussy is clenching around him, from the way you're so confident about the effect you have on him. and you're right, because he's down bad for you and that won't ever change