#i may write poetry to go behind it

[the-thing-of-worms]

"Good bye Icarus, we let you down" Acrylic on canvas, original painting by me :>

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Succubus Ellie x fem! reader

Content / warnings: 18+ content, succubus Ellie, virgin (kind of a loser) reader, Ellie is super shady and you're horny & oblivious, corruption kink, oral sex (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), spit play, strength kink, Ellie gets increasingly more aggressive/stronger, biting (and some blood), nipple stimulation, mentions of stretch marks on reader's thighs bc I personally love them

Word count: 2.3k

You're a lesbian in a small religious town, and all you've got going for you is reading and your own apartment. It's not your fault that you get desperate enough to check out a book on demonology, summon a literal succubus, and sign a contract stating that you belong to said succubus.

Libraries have about every book you can think of.

Some may not have the most interesting options, but upon searching enough, you can truly find anything. You love reading. You love scanning over the ink-littered pages for hours until your brain is fried from trying to make sense of a complex plot. You get off on reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein because pretty words just do it for you. There is something about losing yourself in Edgar Allen Poe’s poetry that makes your blood hot. You know it’s fucked up, and yet you have no shame searching throughout your small town’s local library for something new.

Perhaps it’s just growing up in an isolated town that makes you find entertainment in the concept of everything all at once–literature truly has it all. There is no limit to what an author can write onto an unlimited amount of pages. You’d rather stay underneath your blanket with a flashlight at four in the morning than actually socialize (unless it’s on reddit, like a freak). Sometimes, you do get lonely though. Books don’t satiate your physical needs, and no amount of masturbation with a vibrator from an adult store a few towns over will truly make you cum like a woman could. You know that, but do nothing about it. You downloaded a dating app only to delete it when you had to set your profile picture. 

That is exactly why you find yourself in the occult section of your lovely local library scanning through books to find one about demons. Unsurprisingly for a library in the middle of a religious town, there are little to no books on the subject. Just one. Demons and Demonology.

You’re lonely, remember? Summoning a succubus is a low blow even for you, though. You don’t meet the librarian’s judgemental gaze, and you rush home to your humble apartment to hopefully read all about demonology, specifically the sexual kind. Little do you know what is in store for you.

Succubus are romanticized in the media; pretty women who seduce humans and sexually drain them. That sounds appealing to many who can imagine someone sleeping with them so willingly, something that you fall victim to simply because you’re lonely. That is exactly what demons prey on, though. People who are lonely and vulnerable. But did you ever really think that a malicious soul could give you one night of pleasure and stop there? 

You light the candles in just a cute, lacy tank top and a pair of white cotton panties. Your feet are cold, so you do have these little patterned, fuzzy socks on. You look desperate, but why would you need pants? A succubus wants to fuck you. You definitely don’t want to be wearing any pants for that. 

And before your very eyes is a woman you will grow to wish you never summoned. 

Dark, auburn hair with sneaky strays that you wish to tuck behind her ears as she fucks you. You’d like to tug on that hair or grasp at it with her lips tending to your clit. Your thoughts are flooded and you can’t even categorize each filthy need upon each beautiful feature your eyes are granted. Your lust is beyond repair.

Your brain should realize that all of the feelings you cling to involving this girl are persuaded by simple vulnerability and need. Her appearance isn’t humanlike. She is a demon, and she has resources to lure you in. You should be realizing how unsafe you are with this girl, not hoping that she will fill you until sunrise. You don’t realize, though. Instead, you find yourself looking up at her as she stands in front of where you sit on your bed. 

“You summoned me, huh?” Her eyes are unbelievably green, vivid in different shades that make you want to squint. 

“Well, yes.”

Such a simple answer, but she appreciates that you are getting straight to the point. Some girls waste her time with nerves and stuttering, but you know exactly what you want. She almost feels sorry for you.

The succubus seems to know where your drawer with your journal is already. She rips out a page and grabs one of your black ink pens, throwing it precisely onto your lap. 

“Sign yourself to me.” 

You look up at her quickly, brows slightly furrowed in confusion. The demon sighs, impatient.

“Don’t you know how this works? You have to write it out. You write out your full name, mine, and that you give yourself to me. Otherwise, I can’t touch you.”

In all honesty, Ellie is a little nervous that you’ll back out. You seem like a smart girl. Maybe you’ll realize that signing yourself up for “giving yourself” to a demon is simply foolish. She finds herself feeling something akin to disappointment when you scribble down your name. 

“My name’s Ellie. Write it down somewhere, it doesn’t matter where. All I need is our names, and something that states that you’re mine.” 

Ellie. You write that down.

Once you dot that final period, Ellie is done with the whole patient act. She grabs your sock-clad ankles with rough hands, pulling you to lay down with your ass just off the bed. You squeal in surprise, but she pays no mind. She hasn’t had a virgin in a long damn time, and she is starving to make you cum for her. 

Her hips part your legs and she leans down to press hungry, sloppy kisses onto your pulse. You feel like you’re about to explode with need, pressure within you building, but with no stimulation. Nobody has ever touched you like this. You’ve never felt a person’s tongue swirl over your collarbone, or you’d realize that this feeling of pure need isn’t in the amount that a human should even be able to feel.

“I need you.” You plead with her, fingers pulling at strands of short hair. This seems to encourage her in ways you didn’t expect, because Ellie is already kneading your tits through fabric, fingertips rolling stiffening nipples with ease.

“Tell me what you want most.” She buries her face into your sternum, hands making haste of pulling the flimsy tank top over your body. 

“I want you to touch me.” 

Ellie grabs your face, hands unfortunately leaving your tits. “Nuh-uh, none of that vague bullshit. Tell me exactly where. How. I need to know.” There is an aggression in her voice that makes your heart drop and your clit throb.

You trail your hand down to the soft fabric of your panties and Ellie doesn’t care that you skimp out on actually telling her. She only peels them down to your ankles and tosses them carelessly. Before you can even beg for her touch, she grabs your hips and throws you into the middle of your bed in a flash. Your head is spinning from the action, the logical part trying to make sense of how she could pick you up and toss you so quickly like you weigh nothing to her.

Before you can register her next actions, her tongue is tracing foreign patterns onto your thighs and her hands are forcing your legs wide. 

“Say you want me to fuck you and ruin you.” Sharp teeth sink into your left inner thigh, branding you. 

“I want you to fuck me, please.” Your voice is breathless, your hips are shifting with impatience and need.

“And you want me to ruin you? Ruin this pussy for anyone but me?”

You let out a whorish whine at her words, a sound you want to be embarrassed about, but your brain can’t grasp the idea of protecting your dignity. 

“So fucking needy, I’m about to have the time of my life taking you apart.” She snorts at the way you try to pull her mouth down onto your sex, but to no avail. She wants you at your most needy so that she can milk every drop of pleasure from your body until you’re a panting, sweaty, and fucked out mess.

It feels like forever since she has been between your thighs, tongue swirling over stretch marks and fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. 

“Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you to fuck me.” You’re a mess beneath her, desperately trying to lift your hips enough to feel her tongue swipe over your clit. Instead, all you get is her warm breath over your aching pussy. You’ve been begging relentlessly, and you can’t tell if it’s working or not. 

Until you feel her spit drip from the hood of your clit, further down to your perineum. You gasp at the sudden warmth, and your legs squirm within the hold her hands have on them. You’ve been soaked for a while now, but it seems that Ellie thinks that your pussy wasn’t wet enough. 

You can’t even get out another round of begging before you feel her wet tongue slide up between your pussy lips and dig into your clit. You jolt and pull her head down, wanting to feel completely connected. You want her mouth onto you without any separation after so much teasing. 

The more pleasure flows through you that Ellie causes, the stronger her hold on you gets. You don’t seem to think much of it within your horny haze, but her nails grow sharper than your soft skin would like them to be, and her hold is more firm and decreasingly human-like, but the way she just eats you up makes you forget it all. It doesn’t matter now, you already signed yourself off to this. 

She is a succubus. You can’t be surprised when she moans like a goddess when you feel a particular jolt of pleasure in your body or when your free hand grasps your bedsheets for support. It’s a dangerous kind of perfection; even when you don’t physically show that her lips suckling onto your clip makes your vision blurry, she somehow knows and spreads you further.

You’ve never felt like this before. You’ve finger your own pussy and used vibrators in the past, but this is otherworldly. You wonder how you could ever live without this. You know that after you’re all fucked and spent, every bit of your need satiated, that you will never be able to have sex with a regular person. That should scare you enough to beg and cry for her to rip up the contract and leave, but there is a knot in your stomach that needs to snap in half. Ellie scratches every inch inside you, knows where you need her. When you crave her tongue deep inside your pussy, her taste buds are suddenly printed onto your inner walls, curling up into your sweet spot. When her mouth isn’t on your clit, her nose steadily fucks it. As if you need any of that to simply cum, though. Just grinding your pussy against her face in such a shameful manner as you’re doing now could be enough. That isn’t how this works, though. She needs you feeling the best.

You feel her middle finger part your folds and slip into your hole, and the feeling of another’s fingers inside of you besides your own for the first time is an experience that you simply will never be able to forget. She reaches places inside of you that you didn’t know about whilst flicking her tongue over your clit at a steady pace. You soon feel another finger inside you, and you realize how truly deep her digits can reach. How nicely they can stretch you, make you feel all full and warm. 

Her tongue pulls away from your clit, her thumb replacing it. The view above you makes you wonder how you’ve lasted this long. She leaves bites all along your navel while fucking you into a whining mess. 

“Fuck, you’re just so tight for me. Pussy needed to be ruined, didn’t it? You needed this.” She sounds breathless, and you can’t even dwell on it because suddenly her teeth, which are noticeably sharper than before, are sinking into your hip. You cry out, and she soothes you with her tongue as it laps up some blood that trickled out of the bite. 

Her fingers make your pussy squelch as they drill in and out of you and curl deep within your insides. You feel tears form in the corners of your eyes from the pure, unfiltered pleasure she sends through your body. 

“C’mon, baby. I need you to cum. Give it to me.”

When her mouth trails up to suck on one of your nipples, swirling over the soft bud like she did your clit, you cum hard. 

There are no words to describe the way a demon can drain your body. It should be labeled horrific, not in a goreish way or in a truly depraved sense, but instead, in a way that leaves you truly ruined. You’re hers, now. Not that she plans on fucking you again, unless you really leave a good mark on her. The feelings that flow through you and transfer over to her are ones you’ll never be able to replicate again. No amount of one-night stands or kink-finding will lead you back to this orgasm. No book can make you feel hooked again, not after the feeling of her nails digging into your skin. It’s almost sad that your first time will actually fuck you up like this. If Ellie is able to feel any sort of guilt for you, she’ll find herself back in your bed. She can do that now. You signed yourself over to her, whenever she wants you. You’ll never find it in you to hate it, either. You’ll crave her so much that anytime she comes back to take care of you and feed off of your need, you will be begging on your knees for just one more orgasm from her. 

For now, you simply lay limp in your bed, body aching and covered in marks from someone who isn’t even human. The bites on you won’t leave your body, and you’ll be lucky if the hickeys fade. You can only hope that she will visit you again soon and give you what you need.

[wlw-imagines]

It’s Not What It Looks Like - Eloise Bridgerton/Reader (Bridgerton)

request: “can you make like a eloise bridgerton and her lover get caught?” - anon

a/n: very excited to have the time to be writing again, happy days -- set at beginning/mid season 2 ig?? also regency homophobia? pft the bridgertons are above that shit (mostly... so this is a sprinkling of regency homophobia warning ig but more gay pride really !!)

back to new fresh writing from this year (how is it 2024 wtf) - word count is almost 6k yo + no editing because i do not want to

The two of you giggled like little children as you raced one another up the stairs. Eloise pulled on your arm in an attempt to overtake you but you just about managed to beat her to the spot - despite her cheating tactics. 

You tangled your fingers with hers, holding onto her hand as you opened the door to her room, “We should cause a nuisance to your Mother more often.” You looked over your shoulder and made eye contact as you spoke, grinning mischievously. 

Her cheeks turned a sweet rosy colour as she mirrored your smile, letting go of your hand in favour of wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, her hands rested on your hips.

“Hmm, what a punishment to get sent away to be together.” Eloise expelled an over-dramatic sigh before letting out a light laugh. “After all, we are just doing what we’re told.” She shrugged innocently and moved around you, sitting down and landing on her bed with a bounce.

You laughed, letting your gaze linger across her room, acquainting yourself once more with Eloise’s own space and all the small things that had changed since you were last here, “It seems extremely unlike you to ever do what you are told, my love.” She rolled her eyes with a smile, before patting the space next to her.

“Come here, sit.” She smiled and shifted slightly to the side, “Perhaps close the door first.” You let out a small laugh and turned around, gently pushing the door shut.

Turning back to Eloise, you quirked up an eyebrow and smiled, taking a few steps back to stand in front of her, “Is the door shut so we may have further deep discussions about the poetry you leant me? Because if so-”

As soon as you were close enough, Eloise interrupted you and pulled your body between her legs, pressing against her front. Before you could try to finish your sentence, El had her hand resting on your jaw and had pulled you towards her to kiss you. 

Her kiss was, as always, full of emotion and meaning, though today it was also a kiss with a hint of urgency. You let yourself relax into her as she kept your body firmly against hers in as many ways as possible - craving your touch.

You pulled away gently and rested against her. She closed her eyes and smiled, “I must admit to wanting to do that for the longest time.”

Putting your hand back under her chin, you whispered, “You may do it again, if you so wish.” 

She wrapped her arms around you, rolling and pulling you onto the bed so you were lying on top of her and she giggled, peppering your face with kisses.

“We should be careful, my love.” You said, pursing your lips and glancing at the door as you pushed yourself up. El sighed and pulled you back against her, a slight pout on her lips.

She jutted her chin up slightly in defiance and her pout gave way to a soft smile, “Maybe I do not want to be careful.” 

You let out a small snort and gently raised an eyebrow again, “Hmm,” You pressed a few soft kisses to the corner of her mouth, before moving yourself so you were laying next to her with your legs still across her lap - ignoring her protests. You felt something crackle beneath you and moved to grab it and, upon realising it was the newest Whistledown, you held it out to Eloise, “Did you read the latest gossip?”

She groaned lightly in frustration at your distraction tactics but humoured you all the same, rolling onto her side and propping herself up on her elbow, “I may have been distracted half way through. It arrived just before you did.” Her hand came to rest on your stomach and she gently traced her fingers over the material of your dress.

“Where did you get to?” You asked, the gossip already opened as you re-read the pieces you had seen earlier in the day. Eloise raised her head slightly to look at the paper in your hand and gestured to the third paragraph of the first page.

“Perhaps around there?” She shrugged slightly.

Your eyes widened, “Oh, but you completely missed the best bit!”

“Read it to me?” Eloise asked, looking to you through her eyelashes. You smiled, blushing at the intimacy of the moment. 

“Surely there are more romantic things for me to read to you?”

She just hummed and rested her head against your shoulder, “My heart is so full for you that anything you do makes it beat faster.” 

“You’re very soppy, you know that right?” The blush on your cheeks increased tenfold and you couldn’t resist pressing a soft kiss to her lips, brushing your noses together before moving back slightly.

Before you could get another word out, Eloise’s door burst open and Hyacinth fell into the room, a broad grin on her face. Her eyes skipped around the room, looking for the two of you, “Hello? Sister, please - please may I borrow your silk ribbons for m-

You did your best to scramble up and put a bit more platonic space between yourself and Eloise, “H! Good afterno-”

Eloise lazily rolled over, glancing over her shoulder to see her sister, “Hyacinth? Go away. We were in the middle of-”

Hyacinth cleared her throat and had already begun retreating backwards out of the room, her face bright red, “Oh... I didn’t- Sorry, excuse me.”

Your heart was beating faster now and you called out in an attempt to stop her. You wanted to try to explain that it’s not what it looked like at all, “H, wait-”

“Don’t, just let her go. Stay here with me.” Eloise took your hand and tried to pull you back into her again but you resisted this time.

“No, El, what if she tells someone?”

Eloise sat up next to you with exaggerated effort and huffed, “What would she say? Besides, I still want to do this...” She leant towards you, her hand brushing against your hips as she gently connected her lips with yours, “And you were going to read to me?” She whispered, mere inches away from capturing your lips with hers once more.

“What would she-? Really, my love? What would you say if you were to see... the Duke, for example, practically straddling your sister?”

“Straddling? We weren’t straddling, we were just- It’s not...” The realisation dawned on her as she looked at you and considered the close proximity - her hand on your lower stomach, your legs tangled together. Her face went pale as she whispered, “Oh, fuck. Hyacinth! Sister, it is not what it seems.” She untangled herself from you and jumped off the bed, gathering her skirts as she chased after her sister. “Hyacinth!” 

You took a second to panic before pushing yourself off the bed and you followed El out the room, almost crashing into her back on the landing outside, “Where has she gone?” You asked El, who shrugged and you could see the similar panic in her eyes, mirroring your own.

“Mama!” Hyacinth’s voice drifted to you from below. Your head snapped round to the stairs.

“Bloody hell!” Eloise muttered under her breath, running around you to get to the stairs. She thundered down them and, if you weren’t worried about Hyacinth, then you would have laughed at her complete unladylike stomping.

Hyacinth’s voice wailed again as she looked around for her family, “Mama!”

“Oh my, whatever is the matter?” Violet’s voice joined the mix once Hyacinth had found her, evidently exasperated with all her children’s drama.

“It was Y/N and Eloise! They were... together.”

It felt as though there was an audible eyeroll before the two of you heard a response, “Well, yes, I sent them both upstairs to talk about their books and other such stuff. They were too loud down here with all their... chatter.” Just as she finished talking, both you and Eloise hurtled around the corner and into the sitting room, in which the whole family was sitting.

Eloise quickly - and loudly - voiced her objections to whatever accusations she had been picturing her sister making, “Mother, whatever Hyacinth has just said... she is lying. She is withholding the truth from you, as she often does, and-”

Hyacinth’s nostrils flared slightly in annoyance, “I do not!” She interrupted, frowning over at her sister, who quickly (and childlishly) responded right back.

“Do too!”

“Eloise, be kind to your sister.” Lady Violet quickly put her hands up to signal for the two sisters to stop talking and to find some kind of peace, “Besides, she has said nothing but that the two of you were talking.” She shrugged and began to turn back to the rest of the family but Hyacinth piped up again, more confusion and irritation lacing her voice this time.

You quietly and quickly prayed to any deity listening that Hyacinth’s words wouldn’t be utterly discriminating, you still had a chance to wriggle your way out of any current accusations.

“No, I don’t mean talking.” Hyacinth rolled her eyes and her cheeks turned red, “Mama, you must believe me. They were... together!”

Violet let out a deep breath and shrugged apologetically, “Darling, I do not know what you mean.”

You clear your throat and try to shrug nonchalantly, but ends up an awkward flail, “No one does- I mean, it’s fine. Let us all go back to what we were doing, how about that?” You try to move the conversation on - desperately, you must admit.

Simon raises an eyebrow and tilts his head ever so slightly at you, you blush and shake your head. This immediately causes a smirk to break out on his lips, which he clearly does his best to suppress or to hide but this just brings Daphne’s attention to him. You are sure your blush is a permanent feature now.

“Hyacinth, you always cause such a rush and a chaos, running down here to announce nonsense. What do you mean ‘they are together’?” Daphne herself chooses to chime in, frowning at Simon with a questioning glint in her eye.

Eloise lets out a breathy chuckle and shakes her head, “I rather think she means nothing, so-”

Anthony sighed deeply and in an over-exaggerated manner, leaning his head on his palm before snapping, “No more breath need be wasted on this subject. They were together, so what?” He shrugged, clearly bored of the conversation and fuss, and dropped his hands to his knees.

Eloise brightened up and gestured towards him as she looked and nodded to the rest of her family and then focused her gaze back to Anthony, “Well said, brother!” 

“Eloise!” Colin gasped and you did all you could to suppress a groan of disbelief. Anthony immediately straightened in his seat, a fresh interest lighting up his eyes.

“What?” She looked to you with slight alarm, sensing she had done something wrong.

“Agreeing so vehemently with Anthony? I never thought I’d see the day!” Colin leant forward, looking between Anthony and Eloise. He shrugged, raising an eyebrow, “Well, if my suspicions weren’t first raised by Hyacinth screaming the house down - now they well and truly are.” 

Eloise took a deep breath in and shuffled her feet slifghtly before rolling her eyes, “Sometimes... I occasionally might agree with what he has to say.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest, staring defiantly at Colin.

“No, you don’t.” Anthony challenged, bringing everyone’s attention back to him.

Eloise frowned and gritted her teeth, “Yes, I do.”

He let out a scoff, “No, I am sure that you do not.” 

“I simply insist that I do!” 

You let out a small sigh and sunk down into the armchair next to Simon and Daphne. Simon sent you a glance that, at first one may think was sympathetic, but, upon further inspection, showed he was clearly enjoying your public annihilation. You just glared at him, which made him simply smile. Infuriating man.

Colin stood up between the two of them and gestured to Eloise, “Now look! You can’t even agree as to whether you agree.”

“So, what, pray tell, is going on?” Daphne raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Simon and clearly clocking the looks you were giving one another.

You reluctantly cleared your throat, deciding now was a good time to take the heat off from Eloise who was clearly struggling, “I promise, nothing untoward is happening here. We were just playing games, weren’t we H?” You smiled over at Hyacinth, begging her with your eyes to just go along with it.

Hyacinth’s eyes lit up, “Like Daph, and the Duke!” You audibly groaned this time. This kid would not take any hints.

VIolet hesitated, her eyes flitting from one daughter to the next, Hyacinth to Daphne to Eloise, before letting out a confused- “What?”

“They were together... like them!” Hyacinth looked slightly triumphant as she pointed across to Simon and Daphne.

Simon raised an eyebrow and shook his head before muttering under his breath, “Oh, no. Please don’t drag us into this.” You wanted to turn to him and stick your tongue out, but realised that was probably not the best move to play in this very moment.

“Well, I rather think we should let the two in question answer us.” Daphne stared pointedly at the two of you. 

“Here, here!” Simon quickly chimed in, wearing another annoying smirk on his face as he looked at you.

You were about to attempt to protest but as you opened your mouth Eloise defiantly piped up, “Fine.” She shrugged, as nonchalant as she could be.

“What?” You asked in a low voice with a bit of urgency, looking up at where she was standing above you.

You locked eyes and she nodded, clearly trying to convey a message (of which you had  speaking slowly. “Y/N and I were...” She hesitated and you started to panic, knowing you had to come up with something in order to save her.

“Arguing.” Eloise said at the exact same time as you interjected with- “Dancing.”

Eloise swirled back around to look at you, “Dancing? Why in the heavens would we be dancing?” She all but hissed and you looked at her with equal confusion.

“Your sister and her husband dance together... I don’t know?” You rolled your eyes before gesturing at her as you stood up, “Better, in my lowly opinion, than arguing.” 

“I had a plan! If you just let me say it then we would be fine right now.” She lowered her voice - as if that would stop everyone (who all had their eyes glued to the pair of you) from hearing your conversation.

You shook your head, “Eloise, you were floundering!” 

“I was not.” El all but stomped her foot, “I was... pausing for dramatic effect.”

“No, you always do that long pause whenever you are moments away from coming up with a lie. Everyone knows that!” Your voice rose slightly and you gestured to everyone in the room. In your peripheral vision, you could see Daphne raise her eyebrows before nodding. Even if you couldn’t keep the two of you a secret any longer, at least you had the vindication of winning that single point.

You watched as Eloise tried to come up with a rebuttal but, as already established, you were clearly correct. You grinned at her, utterly triumphant, and she just sighed before fondly rolling her eyes and letting her own smile mirror your own.

A clearing of the throat broke the brief silence and Colin’s voice soon followed, “It doesn’t take a genius to understand that the two of you are clearly lying but... really, Y/N? I mean, I must agree. Dancing? Eloise doesn’t dance lest she makes Mother believe she wants to be married off to the unlucky suitor.”

Eloise quickly shifted her glance to Colin and frowned, “I dance.” She insisted at the same time as you moodily grumbled out, “We dance.” and sat back down. To which Colin simply raised an eyebrow and opened his palms.

“Well, in that case, maybe Mother should marry her off to you.” He said and, seconds later, his gaze shifted to one of understanding. He went to open his mouth and shut it moments later.

Hyacinth let out a loud, frustrated sigh and pointed at Colin, “That’s my point! They were behaving like they’re married!”

“Right... I see.” Violet sat up stiffer in her chair and glanced down at her entwined hands before looking up to her daughter, “Hyacinth, go to your room.”

“But-”

Hyacinth went to protest but was quickly shut down with a steely one word response from her mother - “Go.” Reluctantly (and rather sulkily), she retreated out of the family room and stomped up every single stair before shutting the door to her bedroom rather loudly.

Throughout this, Violet’s eyes restlessly moved from her hands, to Eloise, and back, before eventually landing on Eloise completely. “Now, Eloise, I will only ask you this once. Were you- What was it that the two of you were... Tell me what Hyacinth means by...” Her mother danced around the subject, her hands working at the fabric of her dress, until Daphne sighed loudly and moved her body to sit facing Eloise.

“Mother remains to lack a certain skill of talking directly about... certain things. May I ask instead... are the two of you fucking?” She kept eye contact the whole time, hardly reacting as her mother physcially flinched and gasped, her cheeks turning rosy.

“Daphne!” Violet spoke, aghast.

Daphne eventually turned to her mother, “What? You cannot dilly-dally around with such a subject.” She shrugged and turned back to the two of you.

“I... yes. I guess perhaps... that is what I was getting around to in a way.” Violet’s gaze evetually settled on the two of you as well. 

You knew this direct line of questioning (and outing by Eloise’s sister) was going to be slightly harder to avoid than previously. And even then you hadn’t managed to do a convincing job of it. Still, the two of you bravely (stupidly) fought on.

Eloise vehemently shook her head, “I- no! We don’t...” She put her hand on your shoulder, which would normlly be soothing, but you pushed it off, hoping no one saw (they clearly did). “I mean we weren’t-”

You squirmed in your seat slightly. Explaining your relationship with El’s family was not what you had planned for the day, “What Eloise is trying to say is-” Eloise shook her hand at you, trying to forge on with her own sentence.

“To say ‘fucking’ is too-”

Your eyes widened at the way in which this conversation seemed to be going, “Eloise!” You cut her off, cheeks ablaze.

She looked across to you with innocent eyes, “What! I-”

Before she could land you in it even more, you tried to steer this into safer territory - desperate not to have to talk about sex in front of Eloise’s family, “Okay, listen-”

Again, Eloise managed to charge on. You slumped back in your chair, exhausted from trying to keep Eloise under control and away from the topic of fucking, “You know, I find it very interesting that... pleasuring a woman is deemed purely a male pastime and not-”

You let out a groan of frustration and sighed, taking hold of Eloise’s hand and squeezing softly, “El, my love, not the time.” She kept hold of your hand and turned to you. You took this as an opportunity to actually talk, “She meant we were not doing anything of the... sort. We would not even perchance dream of-”

Before you could finish your sentence, yet another Bridgerton was interrupting you. You involuntarily squeezed Eloise’s hand, tense at having to fight off more allegations, “They definitely are... surely. Look at them.” Daphne spoke.

You looked around the room. To Simon, who looked in pain at how much he was having to hold in a laugh. Daphne, who looked victorious. Colin, who still had an annoying, clever (but not unkind) smirk on his face. Anthony, who - in all honestly - couldn’t look much more like he was living a nightmare - perhaps tortured was the word. He was probably not feeling up to dealing with yet another Bridgerton scandal or another duel at dawn (which, for the record, neither were you). And Violet, who had started to return to a more normal colouring in her face, was looking slightly more relaxed - although you still couldn’t really read the woman.

Then... Eloise, who, since you had interrupted her, had been gazing at you. You were fools to believe that you could keep this under wraps. You finally saw her as if you were looking from the outside in and she had the most ridiculous, overpowering, gorgeous love-eyes you had ever seen. You melted in your chair slightly. You’d do anything to not have to give this up.

Eloise squeezed your hand gently and enveloped you in a hug as she was still standing and as you were still sitting, squeezing you into her side. She took a step back and held out both her hands. You hesitated but nodded, slipping your hands into hers.

With her gaze holding yours she nodded, “Yes, fine, we’re fucking.”

“Eloise!” You gasped, letting go of her hands and swatting at her head. She let out a laugh as she ducked away from you. Simon, next to you, finally let out the laugh he had been holding and Daphne quickly joined in. You turned to them, with red cheeks once more, “It’s not funny! Eloise, you’re being crass. And an ass. And anything else that rhymes!”

“I’m just answering the question I was given!” She grinned cheekily, stepping close enough to tempt another attempt at a hit from you, before dodging it just in time and letting out another laugh. You couldn’t help but start to grin at the absurdity of the situations, Eloise laughing wildly as she jumped around you, Simon shaking with laughter next to you. Even Anthony may have let out a small laugh. Maybe.

“Okay, stop, everyone.” Violet’s voice interrupted the slight moment of insanity, “How long has this been going on for?”

Eloise, still slightly puffed out from dodging your attacks, shrugged the question off, “Mother, it’s not-”

“How long?” Violet’s eyes were steely as she raised an eyebrow, tutting when Eloise let the silence stretch on a bit too long.

“Perhaps just a handful of months? Two? Or three. Maybe four?” Eloise’s smile shrank with every word.

“Under my roof?”

You slid back into your seat and quietly mumbled, “Under many a roof, in all fairness.” Although Violet had clearly heard as she frowned.

“What is this?” She asked gesturing between the two of you.

“What do you mean?” Eloise asked, stubborn as always, pushing her mother further than perhaps necessary.

Violet sighed and her eyes raised to the ceiling, “Eloise? Is this just your way of rebelling away from what is expected? From society? From me?” She asked, eyes landing back to Eloise.

“Mother-”

You wished you could bring back the laughter from moments ago. You gritted your teeth, annoyed at the woman you practically saw as your own mother. You hadn’t planned on telling anyone. Really you were going to try to live your whole lives together without anyone finding out. Which, in retrospect, had seemed a bit foolish. But you had hoped that Violet, and the Bridgerton family, of all people would be slightly more free-minded than this.

You stood up, putting yourself between Eloise and Violet, “This isn’t a rebellion.” You huffed out, angrily and frowned at Violet to really prove the point that you were angry at her. As the silence drew on and Eloise didn’t voice her approval of your input, you started to doubt yourself. You slowly turned to Eloise, eyes soft with sudden worry and feeling of self-consciousness, “Is it?”

“Of course not.” She frowned in dismay, shaking her head as she held your chin in her hands for a few moments. She then moved forward so she was shoulder to shoulder with you, “Mother, I- I don’t work to society’s rules. I’m not... it’s not my fault. It’s just me.” 

This was it. This was the make or break. You took in a deep breath and interlinked your fingers with Eloise’s. Stronger together. “El-” You whispered, your heart hammering. Violet had to accept you. She had to.

Violet’s voice came out slightly wobbly, “Eloise, of course it’s not your fault, you just-”

Before Violet could say anything more Eloise interjected, “I love her, I do. I love Y/N. Like you loved Father.” She sniffled slightly. You took a long sideways look at her and squeezed your eyes shut. Come on Violet. “I remember watching and wanting and yearning for what you had, ever since I was young. And I couldn’t understand why I could not even fathom that with any man in the ton. I haven’t known who I am. But I have that with Y/N, I do. You cannot blame me for finding that kind of love with her just because she is not a man, please.” Eloise’s eyes became glossy. You had to give it to her, she always pulled out a good speech. Well... not always actually. But this one was a good one. You squeezed her hand and didn’t stop until Violet answered.

“No, Eloise, I would never.”

“I know it may not seem right to many, but it’s... it’s not my fault... it’s who I am.” Eloise trembled slightly. Violet was on her feet before you knew it.

”Oh, my Eloise.” She herself had watery eyes. You could breathe a bit more easily as she swooped forward and brought Eloise into her arms. You let go of Eloise’s hand to let her wrap her hands around her mother’s waist. After a few moments, Violet pulled back, “Look at me. I know who you are. You’re a Bridgerton. You are one of the strongest people I have ever known. You are not at fault. How could you be when there is nothing to be at fault for?”

“You really think so?” Eloise asked.

Violet held both of Eloise’s clasped in her own, “Of course I do. A love like mine and your father’s, a love like yours, is rare so you have to hold onto it, yes?”

“I will.”

“Come here,” She hugged her again. “You too, Miss Y/L/N. Y/N.” She smiled at you and your face broke into a broad grin as she enveloped you into the hug too. You knew you could rely on her, always. Even if it took a little bit of time. “The two of you deserve the world.”

From the middle of the hug, you heard a soft clearing of a throat and Anthony once again piping up, “I don’t suppose you’ll be providing a dowry?”

Eloise pulled away from the hug, wiping at the tears grouping at the corner of her eyes, “Oh, shove off, Anthony.” She let out a half laugh and a half sob.

“I jest!” He grinned, “Unless...?” He turned to you, raising an eyebrow, a twinkle in his eye.

“I’m sure I have a few pennies to my name.” You smiled and Eloise’s arms circled your waist from behind.

“And I love her for more than just those few pennies!” She shouted over your shoulder, pulling you into her front.

Anthony put a hand on your shoulder and ruffled Eloise’s hair, “I am happy for you.” He finally admitted, a brotherly pride shining in his eyes.

You shifted away, letting Eloise and Anthony have a brief sweet moment (before one of them made a biting remark and it turned to hostility again). You decided to reclaim your seat next to Simon, who, with something akin to brotherly pride, put his arm around your shoulder.

“And I thought Daph and I caused quite the stir.” He grinned, bringing his arm back around to his side.

“Don’t, I’m embarrassed enough as it is.” You wriggled deeper into the settee, willing yourself to forget the majority of the embarrassing things that has just happened. The two of you watched as the present members of the Bridgerton clan all talked at the same time, spitting out jokes and jostling at one another.

Simon followed your gaze to Eloise and let out a deep chuckle, “You’re a rake!” He exclaimed.

You gasped in fake outrage and turned to him, “I am not!” You protested, a smile forming as he continued to laugh and elbow you in the ribs.

“You so are! Worse than me, you rascal.” He smiled, his own gaze settling on his wife, who was tormenting Eloise with ‘girl talk’.

“Stop! I’ve heard the stories of you and Daph. You’ve out-rascaled me ten times over!” You smirked.

He shook his head, “The big rake competition of 1815.” He hummed. You smiled as Eloise came to join you, making you squeeze up to fit herself next to you, as well as letting Daphne fit in her original seat.

As silence descended and everyone started to calm, Violet let out a contended sigh and leant back in her chair, her eyes turning to the settee the four of you were currently squabbling over, “I must say, I’m quite good at this love matching malarkey, aren’t I?” She asked. Everyone immediately stilled and there was a heavy pause before the noise began again.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, “Well, I wouldn’t say that you-”

Daphne let out an exasperated, “Mother!”

Eloise snorted, “You have done nothing to help our love matches!” 

Colin sighed and shook his head, “God help the rest of us...”

Violet decided to ignore all her children and smiled serenely. And at that moment the doors swung open.

“Good afternoon one, good afternoon all, how are we?” Benedict swanned in, immediately clocked a plate of biscuits and helped himself, taking the whole plate in his hands. He munched for a few moments before looking around for an answer. When he didn’t get one from anyone he smiled, “What?” He finished his mouthful and wiped his hand clean before going for another biscuit anyway, “Well, have I missed something?”

There was another long pause before Violet almost burst with the answer, “Y/N and Eloise are together.”

Benedict’s eyes swerved to the two of you, practically sitting in each other’s laps in order to fit on the settee together. He paused before nodding and gesturing in your direction, “Yes, I can see that.”

Violet smiled and shook her head, leaning forward in excitement, “No, like, together together.”

The crease in Benedict’s forehead deepened as he glanced at you again, “Yes... as I say, I can see that quite clearly.” He let out a small laugh, looking around to see if there was some joke he was missing. “Is everyone okay?”

“Oh for goodness sake, can no one in this family communicate properly and succintly?” Daphne fumed, “They are fucking.” 

“Daphne!” You groaned, having prayed that this day couldn’t get more embarrassing for you. And yet there was still more embarrassment to bloody experience. This family was torture (you still would do anything to keep them in your life though, that was clear).

“Okay, can we stop with the crude language?” Violet cast a look to Daphne, before looking at the two of you again with pride, “They are lovers.”

You felt Eloise recoil next to you, “Gross, Mother, no.” She shook her head and only stopped when she saw you looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “What? I mean, I love you but- lovers? Really?”

“Sorry, that’s the big news?” Benedict’s laughed again and his smile grew as he whirled around to look at his whole family again before shaking his head, “Well, obviously! These two are the least subtle ‘lovers’ in the whole bloody world.” 

“Again, with the ‘lovers’.” Eloise muttered next to you.

You smiled and whispered back to her, “Shut up, you love me.” She squeezed your thigh quickly in answer.

“Does anyone actually pay attention to what goes on in this house?” Benedict walked over to the settee you were occupying and leant his elbow on the back of it, taking another biscuit and spreading crumbs as he went.

“Well, I thought we did a splendid job.” Eloise shrugged, removing her hand from your leg and crossing her arms over her chest.

Benedict shook his head, “I’ve seen you kiss at least seven times.”

“You’re counting?” You quirked an eyebrow up, teasing him as he threw his head back to laugh.

“No!” He protested, “I simply mean-”

You jumped up, ready to be the teaser rather than the teased, and grabbed a biscuit of his plate, “Do you keep a little notebook of each time we encounter one another?” You grinned, now finally the one who gets to revel in someone else’s embarrassment.

Eloise snorted, “Dear diary, Eloise and Y/N held hands for seven minutes and forty-two seconds today-”

“Leave me be.” Benedict rolled his eyes good-naturedly and swatted at Eloise as he started to walk away, back out of the family room.

You followed him, taking another biscuit, and continuing Eloise’s joke, “They kissed twice but one was simply a kiss upon the cheek so cannot be counted-”

“And here i was going to offer to be your beard.” He grunted. The rest of the family stayed seated, listening to your conversation.

Your laugh ringed out, “Total kiss-count to date: three.” You mimicked his voice.

“Now that you are essentially a sibling, I am not afraid to kick you down the stairs, you know.” Benedict’s muffled voice came from the bottom of the stairs. Your voices got quieter as you walked to the dining room and Violet looked around the room, smiling brilliantly.

“How marvellous. The family grows!” She winked at Eloise who sighed and left the room, not wanting to be without you now. Violet watched her go and hummed before turning to the rest with a frown, “What is a ‘beard’?”

Anthony took in a deep breath and quickly stood to his feet, “I think dinner is ready.” He cleared his throat and walked out, leaving the rest to slowly join him, and the three of you, at the table.

[sscamanderr]

On Your Mark // JJK

~Pretty straight forward; headcanons for how they react to you leaving your mark on them in bed~

Characters: Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Gojo, Choso, Toji

Disclaimer: minors dni. sexual themes obviously. pain, scratching, biting, hickies, blood mention, etc. Not proof-read, we post like men

Thank @rax-writes for getting me to post this <3 header image made by me too lol

Geto:

He plays it off cool, relishing the press of your skin on his in the throws of passion. He’ll chuckle into the crook of your neck when you grab for him, needy, breathless. But really it’s to hide the way he shivers when your nails or lips touch his sensitive skin. Not-so-secretly, he’s one of the worst about it. It turns him into a puddle. Likes to run his fingers over the raised skin or red and purple marks left behind with pride. He’s done a good job. So have you. Do it more often.

Nanami:

Loves your bites, and scratches especially. Needs to be needed. He’s muttering things like “Go on, honey, I can take it”. Filthy words feel like poetry from his lips. May even let out a realized laugh at how you’re clinging to him and marking him up. He’s not leaving, baby, he’s staying right here. But do continue. Likes the constant reminder through the day as his button-up catches on the scratches left behind. So much so that he’ll ask for more.

Sukuna:

Will forbid you from touching him at first. You’re his; you take what he gives you, take his marks only. Only during a real intimate moment does he let his guard down, and your arms circle his back and nails rake down his back. What’s this? His pathetic, weak, needy princess marking her territory? Turns him into a beast. Only lets you out from under him once you’ve created a map full of trails of pleasure. He makes you cry in return, in the best way. You’d catch him later in the mirror admiring deep welts left by you on his back. A ghost of a smile graces his lips.

Gojo:

Two words: the worst. Whimpers as soon as he feels your lips on his neck and chest, or your nails pressed into his back and sides. He’s panting into your neck, weight fully collapsed into you, half-way through your ministrations. Desperate. May even whine about it. He craves your touch like an addict needs a fix. And you’re his. Whether its your teeth, nails, or anything else you want to use on him, he’s at your mercy. His only request is to keep it below his collar bones, just for the sake of being around kids most of the time. Outside of the school, he’s showing them off like a prize, and he’s won first place.

Choso:

An actual baby. Will cry out and whimper. But wait. He likes it? Keep doing it, he really does like it! He feels it brings you closer. It tells him how well he’s doing, how much pleasure he’s bringing to you. He might let out a gasp or two, but his grip on you tightens and spurs him on to leave his own marks on you in return. The sounds he makes are animalistic; a chuckle that turns into a rumbling growl. A sigh that turns airy and breathless. Will absolutely ask you to do it every time.

Toji:

Asks you to mark him straight out the gate. Wants you to make him bleed while he’s buried deep inside you. Tear him up. Go on, mama, show him who he belongs to. Wants you to basically torture him. He can handle it, don’t you worry about it. He doesn’t mind if he looks like he lost a fight to a tiger in a telephone booth. The prickling pain all over his body only makes him want you more. Wants the contrast of your soft wetness and the sweltering scratches and bites you give him simultaneously. Probably will even ask to mark you back, if you really think you can handle him too.

[eraenaa]

The Prince and the Poet

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: It is established that Prince Aemond hates poems and sonnets; it was just a pity that you adored them. 

Warnings: Mature, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Aemond Writes a Poem, Childhood Friends, Hidden Attraction, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,900

Inspired by my Original Fic on AO3, The Den of Dragons and Lions

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as he watched you completely enthralled by the sonneteer who performed before you. It had been un-endless hours he had to suffer as the court was subjected to watching poets read their works for the day’s entertainment. It was all too boring, all too frivolous, it was an utter waste of time. Aemond could not understand why you would willingly subject yourself to these men's trite and untrue words— whose delusions and desires were projected in their works. Aemond strongly believed that those who write poems and epics are weaklings and cowards. They do not have the courage to go on great adventures and woo their loves, so they can only imagine and write them down on parchment. And you were the sweet, naive fool who brought into their words—declaring their works beautiful and unparalleled. Blinded by flowery verses and empty promises. 

You sigh longingly in your seat as the sonneteer before you recited your favorite sonnet of them all. Your lips silently move unconsciously as you recite your most favored work with him. Aemond, who sat by your side, sneered at the sigh that left your pillowy lips and the enchanted look in your eyes. His gaze traveled the court; every young maiden swooned by the words and looks of the sonnet who stood in the middle, reciting the work that you clung on to. When his torment finally ended, Aemond rolled his eye once more as you quickly stood and clapped your hands, an ovation for the young man who had finished his performance. Aemond did no such thing, only staring down the sonneteer who bowed and savored the praises given. 

“I hope he shall return soon— and with new material!” You exclaimed to Helaena as you two walked the halls, arms linked together, Aemond trailing behind you. It was an old scene, your actions instilled since childhood. You practically grew up in the Red Keep with the princes and princess, a lion fostered by dragons. 

You hear Aemond’s third scoff of the afternoon, making you glance behind only to see the consistent look of annoyance on his face. “I would take it you did not enjoy?” You say and face onward, feeling Aemond fasten his steps and now walking beside you and Helaena. “It is an utter waste of time; why must we spend hours on this frivolity when pressing matters could be attended to?” You roll your eyes at the Prince’s complaint. 

“Aemond, your attendance was not required. If you believe poetry is a waste of time, I do not understand why you came there.” You say simply, pausing in your tracks. Helaena, a silent audience as you and Aemond began your ceaseless squabbles once more. Aemond was silent for a moment; the truth of his actions may not be revealed. “We did not force you to sit there and listen to Sir Liam— if anything, I’d prefer if you did not come; your glares and scoffs were seen and heard, and are very much unappreciated,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he had no response that he’d like to share. His eye traveled to his sister, who had a knowing smirk on her lips whilst you waited for his response that would not come.“I’ll see you both at supper,” Aemond grumbled as his eye landed on you, who bit back her smirk, the prince stomping away as you finally let your smile slip your lips. 

“Must you really tease him? You perfectly know why he sat through the readings,” Helaena said as you and she sat in the gardens for tea. You picking at the candied lemons that you and Aemond would usually fight over. You smile as you lick your finger clean of the sugary syrup. “Yes, I know why he suffered through the readings. However, he is not aware that I am knowledgeable of his intent,” Helaena sighed, “How long will you make him suffer?” The princess asked, already impatient for the day her closest friend and brother would finally admit their attractions. 

“Suffer?” You ask in shock, “I do no such thing! He inflicts his suffering himself—“ Helaena shook her head and laughed. “You’ve known of Aemond’s attraction to you for years! Yet you still act so clueless with him!” She reasoned. “I am a lady! I am expected to act chase and reserve. I cannot just go up to Aemond and confront him with his secret attraction!” You exclaimed with a fake and exaggerated look of scandal on your face, making Helaena laugh. 

“If you are waiting for my brother to acknowledge and confess his attraction towards you, then you must wait— it might take him a lifetime.” Helaena mused, a hint of frustration and pity in her voice, for Aemond had wanted you since childhood; he was just afraid to let it be known. “Then I pity him… he could have had the golden beauty of the realm, but he chose to stay silent.” You say confidently— proud with the title bestowed upon you by lords and ladies, small and noble folk men who agreed that your beauty was as valuable and desirable as the gold your family was known for. Helaena hummed quietly and quickly prayed to the gods that her brother would soon admit his attraction, for Helaena knew that your pride would not subject you to confess your feelings first. 

“Just because you do not understand or care for poetry does not mean they are a waste!” You exclaimed as Aemond picked another fight with you. You were peacefully seated in Helaena’s chambers, stroking your cat's fur mindlessly as Aemond’s own pet lay beside you. You were in no mood to fight with him and battle his views of poetry. “They are! They’re pointless. If you must say something, then say it— why must they dance around the matter? Why must they go on and on about something that could be said in one sentence? Cowards, the likes of them are!” You let out an exasperated sigh, making Aemond smirk at your annoyance. 

He finds you quite endearing at the state, which is why he often takes time out of his day just to annoy you. Relishing at the roll of your enchanting eyes, the sighs that leave your plump, pink lips, and the furrow between your perfectly arched brows. If he were lucky and had annoyed you to quite an extent, you’d stomp your foot like a spoiled child. Or simply wave him off with your pampered hand because you no longer had a word of defense. 

“Because they are poets! They do not wish to come to the answer and their intentions all at once— they create beauty with their words. They are capable of making subjects so dire be of great interest that they, in turn, create spectacles upon it!” You defended but Aemond only rolled his eye and shook his head, the former action he had gotten from you. Ever since you two were young, you would always roll your eyes when you found something disagreeable; Aemond would mock you for it— would mimic your actions in hopes of getting more from you. However, in time, he managed to adopt the same mannerisms. 

“Archmaester Sisco believed that poetry is of great danger,” he said, taking a goblet to his lips. Your eyes followed the way the ball on his throat booed as you waited for him to continue his thought.  “He says they mislead and are obscure and false— that poets are seducers of the mind,” He finished, noting the way your eyes were on his throat. Guessing you’d want to strangle him out of annoyance, Aemond was amused with the thought of you thinking about strangling him. 

“The Archmaester’s proclamation and thinking is old— irrelevant in our times. Even his student, Archmaester Aristedes, disagrees with his views on poetry. He reasons that it is not harmful— it is a form of expression! Cathartic to those who read and write it!”Aemond let another scoff of derision slip his lips, pushing your annoyance into frustrated anger. 

“You would not understand the beauty of poetry because you keep everything you feel inside you! You do not know what great relief it is to say or even write what you desire and hope for!” You exclaimed, and Aemond tensed in his seat. Silence surrounded the room as Aemond could not work out a response. You saw him fisting the arm of his chair, the knuckles of slender fingers turning pink from his tight grip. 

You sighed heavily, “What I meant is… I understand that you do not like poetry and find it pointless and a waste— but I don’t. I am not forcing poetry onto you, nor am I trying to change your views upon it. I enjoy and adore poetry— I just wish you would stop discouraging me from enjoying it. 

“Why do you enjoy it?” Aemond asked after a short while. You try to hide your surprise at his question. “Because… I find it romantic. For someone to take time to depict you with such beautiful imagery and flattering words, to love and admire you enough to dedicate a work of literature to your name… for me, it is the best way to express to someone how much you truly love them.” You could not look at Aemond as you said the words. In truth, a part of you felt silly because your love for poetry was only solidified because you loved a boy who you knew would not subject himself to create such works. When you read your favorite epics and songs, you would humor yourself and imagine it was Aemond who wrote it for you, knowing he would never do such a thing. 

Days passed since your and Aemond’s interaction and you noticed that you had scarcely seen his presence. You would pass by him whilst in training and join him and his kin for supper— but other than that, you could not feel a trace of his presence. He would usually join you and Helaena for tea or would suddenly appear by your side as you walked along the keep. He didn’t even pick fights or tease you anymore. Him growing more silent and reserved. Now you regret speaking— wishing you had just held your tongue and let him continue to disparage the sacred thoughts of poems and songs. 

It was high night, and you sat silently in your chambers, staring at the fire, trying to find ways to approach Aemond. Already missing his teasing presence— the only presence you would muster the patience to endure. 

You furrowed your brows as you heard shuffling at your door. Your eyes catch the shadow of a figure outside. You cautiously and quietly stood, going to your door only to see a piece of parchment being slipped at the slit of the wooden door. Your confession only grew. You quickly took the parchment and opened the door, revealing its sender. Three eyes went wide as you were met with Aemond, who blended in the dark. However, his silver hair shined in the light of the moon. “What are you doing?” You ask and turn to the parchment he had slipped. 

“Nothing— I… this—“ Aemond fumbled for words; you had never seen him in such a state. He was usually composed and stoic. You thought seeing him bashful and embarrassed was a nice gift from the gods. “What is this?” You ask and unfold the parchment. “No! Don’t—“ Aemond bit his tongue as it was too late to hinder you. Your eyes already consuming what was written. 

I’ve known you for half of my life yet; you consume the whole of it I’ve had you near and close to me yet, I only gaze from afar

I do not know how to proclaim I’m not certain how to say it without blame, but you, my beauty, are the cause of my desire and, most of the time, my ire

I know I pick countless squabbles, but I do it because I love to hear you babble about things I have no care for but you just simply adore

We disagree for many reasons, but I’d rather fight you through the seasons You, my beauty, so lovely and carefree my heart could not help but love you, most ardently 

Aemond watched you bite your lip as a wide smile started to spread. Aemond felt heat all over his body— anticipation did not sit well with him. He was ready to meet your laughs at his attempt to make you a poem. Ready to face rejection, but instead of the pessimistic thoughts in his mind, he was met with your sweet, pillowy lips. You were so excited and thrilled that you could not help but kiss him. Show him how you adored him as well. 

What was supposed to be a short and chaste kiss turned deep with passion. Lips dancing and refusing to part. You and Aemond stumbled to your bed, uncaring and ignorant of the teachings of the gods, for you and him had long surpassed your desires, and they could no longer be denied. They were ready to claim without thought of consequences because both of you knew that you’d happily take all punishment that would be presented if it meant neither of you had to stop your actions. 

“Gods, I want you,” You uttered as his lips traveled to kiss your soft cheeks, then trailed downward to the side of your neck. His hands were on your waist and threading dangerously close to your bosom. “Say it again,” Aemond almost begged. Savoring your scent, delighting at the way you feel against him. “I want you, Aemond. I’ve wanted you for years— you, only you.” You sighed as he left marks on your necks, earning quiet moans from you at the new sensation.  

Aemond let a low moan rumble as his cock painfully strained against his trousers, throbbing at your admittance of want for him. It was all he wanted. He thought his deepest desire in life was to have a dragon, but that was wrong. He desired you more than claiming a dragon— his deepest desire was to claim a lioness.

Aemond tangled his hair in your hair, finally letting his other hand move from your waist and cup your breast. Your hand, in turn, went to palm him through his trousers, watching as his jaw clenched and the ball of throat bobbed once more. “We… we must not lay until we are married,” Aemond said, voice pained and filled with impatience. Yet, he still did not move atop you; he kept his hold, but you relinquished yours. “We don’t have to,” You said, trying to push away your need for him to touch you. Aemond sighed and hurried his face in your neck, his lips and breath tickling your skin. “Then how…” Aemond trailed, and a thought passed your mind. “We must not touch each other….yet. However, I do not recall teaching forbidding us to touch ourselves,” You whisper, Aemond’s lilac eye flying to you, dark and filled with lust, mirroring yours. 

Aemond moved to remove his weight from you. You keep your eyes locked as you back away to the back of your bed, resting yourself on the pillows as Aemond kneels by the edge of your feathered bed, watching each move you make with his glazed, lone eye. 

You bit your lip harshly as your hand threaded a path that it threaded plenty of times, the thought you had as you did the actions now watching you. You slipped your hands, and you resisted moaning as your fingers brushed over the pearl of your cunt. Aemond admired the way your breasts peaked and traced through your silk nightgown. The way your eyes were hooded and how your plump lips finally parted and moaned his name. 

Aemond could no longer resist. Slipping his hand into his trousers just like he did every night, the image of you no longer in his mind but now sitting before him, calling out his name.“A-Aemond,” You stuttered as you felt the familiar cold within you. How desperately you wanted it to be, him to make you feel such a way. Aemond groaned and tilted his head to the heavens as he felt his cock twitch; he was quick to reach his peak; just the way you called for his name was enough for him to spill so quickly. 

Aemond closed the space between the two of you, each of your hands still pleasuring yourselves while lips met and wanted to be together when both of you reached your peaks. “You will be mine soon, my heart… mine to pleasure and please, all mine,” Aemond swore against your lips. You nod your head as you fasten your pace. “I’ve always been yours, Aemond.” You said truthfully, the final push for Aemond to come undone; you quickly followed as his moans spurred your peak. Aemond kissed your lips once more and boldly prayed for patience, patience, and restraint to not take you that night.

It was not enough for Aemond; pleasuring himself as he watched you pleasure yourself was not enough, but it had to be for now. Because when morning comes, he’ll demand that you shall be his, just as it ought to be.

If you enjoyed the premise of this story, you might like the inspiration for it!

[twiisted-king]

♢ Spider-Man Noir BF HC’S ♢

➟ Spider-Man Noir / GN!Reader 🕸️

➟ SFW / NSFW

➟ TW : 1930’s Attitudes, The Great Depression, Injuries/Blood, Sexual Content, & Smoking.

————————————————————————

— Let’s set one thing straight, he is husband material.

— The moment y’all start dating is when he starts thinking of marriage. Obviously he’s from the 1930’s so he probably thinks more in terms of “ I Man, I Husband “. I don’t think it’s to the point of being toxic though :)

— Peter has a gun, yes a gun, that he is not afraid to use especially when it comes to you. He’s always clutching you close to him whenever y’all go outside and keeping a close eye on the environment around him. He already lost Uncle Ben, he is NOT losing you too.

— A total gentleman : flowers, taking your coat, kissing your hand, he goes the whole nine yards.

— It’s hard for him to just be comfortable sometimes. Experience the Great Depression and being Spider-Man has left him a nervous wreck who just can’t calm down. He’s always expecting the worse. In other words, please treat this man like he’s the best thing in the whole world, he needs it.

— A music lover who would be even more smitten if you danced with him. He’ll hum to the tune and spin you around the livingroom with this big, goofy smile on his face.

— Peter runs off of coffee, cigarettes, and adrenaline. He doesn’t have the easiest line of even as a civilian and often works late into the night. He’s always exhausted when he gets home and just wants to fall into bed beside you.

— Is pretty always big spoon. It’s just easier since he’s more then a likely taller than you plus he likes taking on the protector role.

— A decent chef. He can definitely make a mean dinner and has learned a few tips/tricks from Aunt May.

— Patch up his wounds! He’s a good patient who just sits there with this glint of admiration in his eyes as you clean up any blood or stitch close a deeper cut. He’ll absolutely tease you by asking if you can “ kiss it better “.

— He writes sappy poetry. It’s mostly just for kicks and giggles though he can definitely whip out something that really touches your heart. He gets flustered if you thank him for the poetry and just hides his red face behind his hat Jotaro style.

— Peter wants to eventually move away from New York to somewhere much quieter. He wants to marry you and have a big house. If you want kids that’s more than okay with him and if you don’t he’s content on settling for a dog. He absolutely loves dogs.

♢ NSFW ♢

— While not the most experienced person sexually he still knows how to have a good time.

— Peter’s libido isn’t the highest and sex is more of a celebratory/occasional thing. You got a job promotion? Cool! Peter wants to bang you on the couch until the walls are white and the multiverse rips apart.

— I think Peter definitely gets aroused a lot he just doesn’t act on his feelings. He doesn’t exactly have time to take an hour away for some much needed love making.

— But when he does get that hour away? Oh boy howdy prepare yourself.

— I already discussed that there is more than likely a height difference and he takes that to his advantage. It’s easy to just scoop you up no matter how heavy you are and have sex with you right against the kitchen wall.

— Like he’ll rip your clothes off in the heat of the moment then promise to buy your another shirt later.

— RIDE 👏🏻 THIS 👏🏻 MAN 👏🏻 - He doesn’t mind just kicking back and letting you take control for a bit. He lets out the hottest noises and when you’re thighs are aching from bouncing on him? He just manually fucks you on his cock all while telling you about how nice you feel tensing around him.

— No surface in your place is safe. Kitchen counter, bed, couch .. you’ve been banged on all of them.

— Wants to stuff you full of as much of his cum as possible. He’ll cum into over and over again until your stomach is bloated with his release.

— He’s big! It can be an adjustment taking his dick and he’s fully aware of his size. He’s always whispering encouragements to you, telling you about how good you look taking him like this. His balls are big too lmao.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

GO FOR IT! ; YUUTA OKKOTSU

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, unrequited love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk. 

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki. 

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!” 

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you. 

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing. 

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him. 

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you. 

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun. 

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet. 

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm. 

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down. 

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes. 

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.” 

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. 

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right? 

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.”  yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer. 

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him. 

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

… 

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips. 

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway. 

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways. 

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence. 

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently. 

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful. 

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly. 

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right? 

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound. 

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?” 

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off. 

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure. 

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing. 

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them. 

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably. 

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes. 

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

[alotofrandomfangirling]

Roronoa Zoro NSFW Alphabet (Netflix live action)

Warnings: smut 🫠 and cursing (18+ / minors dni)

A/n: i can't stop writing for this man please help okay so i had a bunch of smut headcanons for live action Zoro so i thought it would be better to fit them in a NSFW Alphabet ajdlajakaj it's the first time i write any kind of smut so please forgive me for any mistakes 😅 (i also didn't check the grammar because i was too embarassed to copy and paste it on google translate lmao sorry about that too ajskajskaj) female reader is adult and everything is consensual 🙏🏻 i hope you like it!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Zoro is very gentle after sex, he likes to hold you close and kiss your forehead as you both fall asleep together.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He is a boob guy. He loves your boobs, staring at, squeezing and sucking on them. He also likes kissing the valley between them.

And for himself he likes his chest and arms. He is super proud of how much you love to roam your hands on his chest and arms to feel his strong muscles.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He licks every drop of your cum when he makes you climax with his tongue on your pussy (we know he has strong teeth, so i'm guessing his tongue works well too 👀). And it's freaking hot when he wipes his mouth after that and goes kiss you with the same hunger he showed before.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves when you nibble on his ear.

You've recently gotten obsessed with the three earrings on his left ear and you want to suck on them all the time. He acts annoyed when you do it, but deep down he loves it, it makes him feel all tingly inside.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Zoro wasn't very experienced when you met, but, after all this time together, you've done it so many times that now he already knows by heart the exact spots he has to hit to take you to complete bliss.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves when you're on top of him. Watching your beautiful face from below, your boobs moving up and down, grabbing your ass... it's like poetry for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Well, Zoro doesn't smile much in his normal activities, so the same applies to while having sex ajskajakaj he's usually more serious cause he takes being with you and pleasing you very seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well, he's nearly a pirate so don't expect much ajdkajskaj but if you ask him he'll take care of it, cause he will honestly do anything for you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It may be surprising, but he is so romantic. The thing is your relationship is very based on love and trust, so sex for you is really an intimate moment for you to share your deepest feelings with each other. He makes sure to show you how much he loves you by taking care of you and pleasing you the best way he can.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jerks off thinking about fucking you from behind with you wearing a mini skirt Nami had lent you one day. Zoro was never the same after he saw you in that lmaooo the sight stuck to his mind so he often remembers it 👀

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Okay so hear me out: Zoro with a praise kink. Boy's had a rough past, so he appreciates every little act of kindness you do for him. He loves when you praise him and whisper sweet things in his ear, for how good he is or how nice he is doing. You can literally feel how much he enjoys that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your shared room at the Going Merry. The rush of having to be silent so that the other straw hats won't hear you turns him on even more.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your voice. He loves listening to you moaning and telling him how good he makes you feel, it's like music to his ears.

(In fact, anytime you're feeling mischievous and want to mess with his mind, you just use that sweet voice that you know will drive him crazy)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation. Or hurting. Not at all. You were the best thing that ever happened to Zoro and he made sure to let you know that, so he wasn't going to call you names or any of that. Sex was also a very intimate and special moment between you two so he enjoyed you both exchanging only nice stuff.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves a good blowjob. Hell, he loves how good your mouth feels on his dick.

You love to see how he melts under your touch while you're sucking him off. He looks so pleased and makes such pretty noises moaning your name you want to keep going just to keep listening to that.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends. Zoro usually takes his time in pleasing both of you. But when he's a bit frustrated or angry and wants to release himself, he gets a bit rough, but never hurting you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers the real thing, but whenever one of you is feeling needy, sure, he'll do quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Zoro is a simple man: he gets to fuck you, he is happy. So usually risking and trying new things only happens when the idea comes from you (and you sure have good ideas very often *wink wink*).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Several rounds. Your man's stamina is on point ajdkajskaj

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Zoro doesn't really like toys. He says just the both of you are enough to "feel really good". i mean are there even sex toys in the op universe i'll be in debt in this one ajskajakja

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to go straight to the point so he doesn't tease much, except when he wants you to beg for it so he can hear that sweet sex voice of yours that he loves so much.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not very loud, but he grunts a lot (and it's delicious for you to hear). He also frequently lets slip curse words in your ear when he's fucking you because he can't take all the pleasure.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

That time you were at Kaya's and he showed up wearing that suit? You could barely concentrate on dinner for how aroused you were seeing him in those clothes. He looked so. freaking. hot.

The second dinner was over and everyone went to sleep you pushed him to your bedroom and had him take his pants off so you could ride him like there was no tomorrow (suit still on of course cause you liked it ajdkajskaj).

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Let's just say those jokes about his fourth sword are actually true.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Zoro is horny for you all the time lol of course he understands there's a right time for everything but whenever he has the chance he wants to be with you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It doesn't take much for him to fall asleep. He'll do the job, feel good and then fall asleep for how tired he feels (but not before kissing your forehead and praising you for all that you did together 😉).

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[heylittleriotact]

⚰ＷＩＰ ＷＨＥＮＥＶＥＲ⚰

I've been tagged by @xxnashiraxx and love seeing their work pop up on my dash - thank you <3

The Soup du Jour is... smut! Plotless, pointless, porntacular, horny Emmrook smut.

We've got praise kinks, we've got flashing, we've got grinding, we've got trying-to-distract-this-poor-man-from-his-work, we've got Rook biting off more than she can chew when Emmrich calls her bluff. It is in this piece that I am (ultimately) going to make good on my threat of Emmrich reciting erotic poetry intimately into Rook's ear while he makes deeply passionate love to her, because that idea has lived rent-free in my head for days now and I need to manifest it. But first I need Rook to be a brat, and for Emmrich to... deal with that.

I was having doubts about this one because I am forever afraid of writing OOC, but honestly I'm just trying to chuck it in the fuck it bucket and have fun.

Tagging: @preciouslittlebhaalbae (you have TIME now MWAHAHAHA), @allofthebarks (don't hold out on me), @emmg (I know you're cooking 👀)

Under the cut because it is ✨EXPLICIT✨

𝒱𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃:

A funeral event where the prepared body of the deceased is reposed in the casket (open or closed) so that mourners may pay their respects, say their goodbyes, and grieve communally prior to the formal funeral service.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she pulled on the flimsy little camisole. She had very specific plans in mind when she slipped into the thin leggings that she knew were just a little too tight. There was a distinct reason she had chosen to completely forgo underthings. 

She tied her thick hair into a low bun at the base of her skull so her neck was clearly visible… as was the somewhat faded love bite from their previous encounter - the one that made Lace turn beetroot when she laid eyes on it at breakfast. The one that prompted Taash to reach over the table with a congratulatory high five. Emmrich had coughed awkwardly and subtly adjusted his own collar, clearly hoping the marks Amina had left on his neck in return were concealed.

She padded barefoot down the hallway to the laboratory, stomach fluttering and turning on itself in a not unpleasant way with the sheer anticipation of being in his proximity again. She couldn’t help but be drawn to him - his immense gravity could not be ignored; her need to be near him was insistent. She put little stock in the novelty of fate before Emmrich, but there was no doubt in her mind that there must have been some sort of cosmic ruling in which they were unwittingly sentenced by the stars to find one another. Her belly smouldered at the thought of such a thing… of such belonging.

She knocked gently on the door. “It’s me - may I come in?” 

She didn’t have to wait for an answer, nor did she have to turn the knob herself: she heard a chair scuff over the flagstone, the muffled jingle of gold - a sound that set her heart racing more often than not these days - and the door was flung open. Emmrich stood in the threshold, beaming affectionately down at her. 

“Of course, darling.” He took her hand and pulled her into the room, reaching over her shoulder to shut the door once she was inside. She might have been embarrassed that the sound of the lock clicking behind her made her breath catch solely due to its implication, but she was having a hard time feeling much of anything but barely restrained lust for the man in front of her. 

He drew her in close with an arm around her waist, still holding her hand between them, massaging her palm with his thumb as he bowed his head to kiss her sweetly. Her knees went weak when his lips met hers and his familiar scent filled her nose, rendering her brain incapable of anything other than inwardly chanting the same base sentiment over and over for as long as the kiss lasted: Home! Home! Home! Home! You’re home!

He straightened and looked at her, smiling as though he hadn’t heard the hungry little moan that had slipped from her, nor perceived the way she’d pressed as much of her body against him as she could during their embrace. “How are you today?” He asked, genuinely interested - as always. He knew. Surely he knew that she was positively bursting with need for him.

“Fine,” she breathed, returning the smile, watching as he started back towards the desk that was covered with books, inkpots, and parchment. “I’m well, thank you. Just thought I’d come say hello, see what you’re up to.”  

He pulled a chair over to the opposite side of the desk for her to sit on. She opted to remain standing instead, her eyes flitted over the pages of drying ink spread over the desk. 

“More letters home?” She waited until he was settled in his chair again, the quill back in his hand, and she bent at the waist to take a closer look at a recent anatomical drawing he’d completed. She could feel the cozy heat of the laboratory caress the exposed peaks of her breasts as the insubstantial shirt draped downward, offering a generous eyeful to anyone who might be sitting directly across from her. 

Her eyes flicked up from the drawing when Emmrich didn’t answer right away, a clever smile pulling at the corners of her mouth when she caught him red-handed; his eyes locked on the dainty swell of her breasts. 

He came to his senses when he felt her eyes on him and he comprehended the coquettish smirk on her face. “Yes.” He licked his lips. “Yes. Maintaining alliships and channels of communication is vital as we draw closer to our confrontation with the gods.” He swallowed and smiled again as Amina straightened and rounded the desk, settling against the wood on his side now.

“A fine plan,” she concurred, leaning back on her hands, her very visible nipples more or less eye level for the handsome academic to admire. “I hope I’m not distracting you: it’s so rare that I get a few hours to just relax these days.” She made a bit of a show of tilting her chin up and slowly rolling her head from side to side, stretching out the muscles of her neck and making sure Emmrich could see the soft plum-tinted bloom of colour he’d imparted on her skin as he sent her over the edge with his name on her lips, buried to the hilt between her legs as she clenched hard around him, her fingers curled tightly in his soft, thick hair. ‘You are incredible, darling,’ he had sighed against her tingling skin afterwards when they were little more than a tangled, panting heap of limbs. It had taken a good hour after that before she could walk again…

Amina squirmed against the desk a little at the thought, aware of the burgeoning wetness that was accumulating at the juncture of her thighs. 

Somehow Emmrich managed to maintain the discipline required to look back at the letter he was working on, his lips curling quaintly. “Not at all, my dear - quite the contrary in fact: I’m so glad that you’re finally taking some time to look after yourself.” He dipped the quill, tapped it once, twice, and then brought it to the paper.

She observed him in silence until he seemingly made peace with the fact that she was not going to sit on the chair he’d brought over for her, and instead pushed his own back slightly, pulling her down onto his lap where she perched gleefully, having gotten what she wanted. 

“I must concede that you are somewhat distracting, so I will need your assistance in proofreading these before they’re sent out - I do have an academic reputation to maintain, regardless of the beautiful woman on my knee.” 

“Is that so?” Amina purred, nuzzling into his neck, her lips barely ghosting over his skin that smelled organic and clean - crisp soap and freshly cut sage… a lingering hint of pipe tobacco and expensive brandy. 

Oh yes, she was going to be one hell of a distraction…

“She sounds like a real piece of work, this woman. It’s a marvel that you get anything done at all with her around.” She tilted her hips ever so slightly. Not enough for it to be claimed that she was trying to get a rise out of him, but enough so that the fingernails of his left hand dug into her side a little where he gripped her. A pleased smile took her lips at the feeling of him against her, already half hard: he could pretend to be aloof and composed all he liked, but she knew that there was only one possible outcome for this encounter. 

“I was just having a similar thought, as it turns out,” he murmured, breath catching slightly when Amina ground against him more deliberately this time. “She’s cornered me in my laboratory no fewer than three times this week, you see: my productivity has utterly plummeted.”

The way he whispered those words, his voice so sinful and cunning…

“Oh dear…” Amina tutted. “Well we can’t have that now, can we?” She moved to slide from his lap, fully prepared to at least pretend that she cared a whit about Emmrich’s ‘productivity’ of late. 

He held her fast though, keeping her on his lap with his hands and arms, and the sheer fact of his existence alone. She rewarded him with a satisfied hum and another agonizingly slow roll of her hips, suspecting that she was probably beginning to soak through her thin pants.

His hand dropped from her waist to her thigh and he palmed the expanse of hard muscle there, dragging his fingers towards her hip as he leaned forward and his hot breath washed over the sensitive shell of her ear, driving a small gasp from her as she flinched in his grasp: he had not been idly boasting during that dinner date about his anatomical prowess.

“I fear I wouldn’t have it any other way…” he confided, those artful, nimble fingers of his straying to her waistband and slipping beneath it. He sharply inhaled through his teeth and uttered a soft ‘oh’ when he found her waiting for him, slick and needy. There was a slight tremor in his voice when he said, “She is intoxicating, you see…”

She moaned encouragingly as he swirled a finger through her, clearly enjoying the experience of her arousal alone: she could distinctly feel his hardness against her rear now.

Oh how she longed to ravish him - ride him to completion on this very chair, or on the floor perhaps. Maybe against one of the many bookshelves that lined the room - they had dallied against one the week before, her leg hitched up around his thin waist, pulling him deeper as he set a pace that stole her breath from her lungs and hit angles that caused her to see stars. 

Or she could bend over the railing of the balcony upstairs and feign interest in the curious nature of their environs while he slammed into her over and over again, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips… 

Of course there had been the rather awkward instance a few days earlier where Manfred had wandered in on them both in a state of partial undress: Emmrich’s waistcoat hanging open, Amina dragging her hands through his hair, her own shirt piled in a careless heap on the floor nearby and Emmrich’s hand down her pants as she tried to kick off her high-heeled lilac slippers without removing her lips from his skin. Manfred had launched himself between the two of them with a consternated hiss, clearly interpreting their entanglement to mean they were fighting instead of well… the other thing. The following day, Emmrich gave his first in a series of many lectures to Manfred about the birds and the bees - and reiterated the invaluable virtue of always knocking before entering a room that might have someone else in it.

She was snapped from her musing at the sublime sensation of Emmrich’s finger dragging along the ridges of her walls as he slid the digit inside of her. She let out a small gasp at the intrusion and reflexively clenched around it, hips rocking against his once more. 

“... but I really must finish these letters.” There was a playful, coy edge to his voice as he slowly withdrew his finger and slowly pushed it back in. “This striking woman of mine will need to exercise patience today, it seems…”

Something about being his striking woman in particular sent a jolt of arousal straight through her very soul. She could feel the cool metal of his rings against her feverish skin as he cupped her sex, his thumb brushing almost tauntingly over her aching clit. 

“Please, Emmrich…” she whined, arching up into his touch, making her need plain. 

The demonstration of manners earned her a second finger, but her lover did not deviate from his task as he leaned forward, dipped the quill, and began to write once more. “In good time, my precious love,” he soothed. “Try to relax for the time being - I shan’t take long.” 

“It feels so good though…” 

“That’s wonderful, darling - I want you to feel good.” 

She fell silent, the wind in the sails of her desire to argue stilling as she let her head fall against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, allowing herself to exist in the moment - holding on tight to every emphatic response of her nervous system as Emmrich touched her with a capable familiarity that suggested he’d touched her a thousand times before; the erotic symphony of the quill scratching over the parchment mingled with the sound of his fingers moving within her… her breathy moans… his many bangles shifting gently with each purposeful gesture…

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured eventually - she had lost track of time - kissing her shoulder before returning to the letter. He had to be nearly done, hadn’t he? “So good for me… my sweet Amina…”

She whimpered at his words - the reverent praise tolling something deep within her that was starved and lonely. She writhed on his thigh as he placed tender kisses all over her cheek and crooked his fingers, stroking that euphoric place inside of her that made cognizant thought impossible and made her thighs tremble like she’d been in the training hall all day. He took her apart slowly, casually… effortlessly, and before long she was fluttering around him, cheeks and lips flushed a delicate pink, staring down an orgasm that was about to be everyone in the building’s business - she could feel it: the deep fire in her belly roiling and twisting on itself, going taut, so tense and eager that one more touch could snap it, yielding the most decadent release…

And then he was gone, the absence of his touch keenly felt as her walls flexed and tensed around the sudden nothingness. 

She glowered at him, though her stomach flip-flopped enthusiastically as she watched him taste her on his slender fingers with a dignified poise she should have expected. “That was cruel.”

“Is it cruel to strive to linger in a garden of untold majesty forever, even knowing forever is unobtainable?” He stroked those same fingers gently over her lips and she caught the tip of one between her teeth, flicking the very tip of her tongue over the fleshy pad of it. “I want to savour you, my dear.” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. “Let me take my time.”

[crippleprophet]

i don’t understand how people can be so fucking cruel about people who can’t read much (including people who aren’t literate, though this post is from my experience with chronic illness). like, one of my main motivations behind posting excerpts of butch+femme writing on my main (@campgender ; it’s fine to go through my bookshelf tag but please only followers age 18+ on that blog!) is that it is fucking hard to read a full book!!

my reading comprehension & stamina decreased drastically when i developed worse chronic fatigue, & while i’m overjoyed that i’ve recently regained a lot of that particular ability since getting blackout curtains, there are absolutely still texts i can’t even begin to parse that i once would’ve loved digging into — texts that it would be actively dangerous for me to attempt to struggle through because it would break pacing.

idk i’m not trying to be self-congratulatory here or whatever but like. the second i could access information through this means again, the focus of my (very fucking limited!!) energy has been giving it back to my people. my life has been unquestionably, deeply shaped by tumblr users who share excerpts of theory & memoir & poetry because they were providing labor of which i was in need & incapable.

finding, selecting, transcribing, formatting, & at times contextualizing passages takes a lot of fucking time & energy, but in order for me to encounter certain concepts, experiences, & histories, it’s work somebody else had to do, because i couldn’t read 200 pages of research or anthology in order to encounter the 10 that would change my life — but posted 2 or 3 pages at a time, i could save that in my drafts to get through on a good day, & quotes that were only a couple lines i could usually read right when i encountered them.

so, in memory of the years i spent unable to access theory through anything other than excerpts & secondhand summaries,

and in anticipation of the years to come where i will live the same,

and in acceptance that the brain is a muscle, in love of we the exercise-intolerant,

to you, dear reader — whatever form & frequency & duration that reading may take, even if it’s no further than this post — i make my motherfucking covenant: the issues i discuss around pulling quotes will be about the political act of the ellipse and the ethics of transcription, not shaming people for the methods of accessing information that are available to them. as often & as long as i am able, people can ask me to explain something or summarize in plain language and i will meet them with respect, interest, & effort. if someone’s looking for information on a particular topic, identity, experience & doesn’t have the energy to find it, i’m gonna give what i have towards filtering through the bullshit for the gems.

according to our abilities. according to our needs.

and the next time somebody tells you it’s not ableist to say everyone has to read [whatever work], tell them to go put their precious ability to better use in making it more accessible.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

oh my god there are so many good choice on the touching prompt list for Ace!Tav and Astarion. But since it’s first numerically may I please request 3?

Summary: You finally arrive in Baldur's Gate and you can't sleep. Normally this would mean taking the nearest instrument and playing until your hands are raw. Luckily for your fingers, Astarion is there to listen.

Prompt: hiding face in neck

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

A/N: Hey! Sorry it took me so long to get to this. I swear to god I wrote like five different versions of this thing. Let's give it up for over writing! Enjoy.

Word Count: 1.8K

The night felt oddly still for Baldur’s Gate. You’d traveled so far, done and seen so much and you were finally here.  It should have brought you relief; instead, all you could think about was all you had left to do. There were still the tadpoles to deal with and devils and gods and frankly all the things you’d never given a second thought to the last time you stepped through the gates. Perhaps the city felt it as well, collectively holding its breath for whatever was coming next. 

You let out a deep sigh, staring up at the darkened ceiling. There would be no hope of sleep tonight. The best you could do was find a way to pass the hours without going mad.  

As carefully as you could, you slipped out of bed, mindful of Astarion resting soundly next to you. For all your troubles, they were nothing compared to the horrors coming for him.  You wouldn’t disturb his rare moment of peace for the world. 

In easy strides you grabbed your lute and made your way to the balcony where a comfortable enough chaise awaited you. 

No lamps were needed. Between the moon and the street lamps below, you could see well enough to play for an audience of one. 

You started with something easy, plucking out a handful of scales to warm up your hands. It didn’t take long after that for a melody to form, pushing your worries further and further away. Lyrics slipped their way past your lips in whispers and half remembered hums. You were here. Air moved in and out of your lungs. Your heart still beat. You had control over your body and the sounds pulled from the instrument in your hands. There was still time. The morning hadn’t found you yet.

Soft footsteps approached from behind you; the obvious padding of bare feet on wooden floor boards given just enough extra weight so as not to startle you.  Astarion could be very considerate at times. 

You paused your hands, turning to face him. 

“Sorry, was I playing too loud?” 

“Not at all,” he assured. “How else was I supposed to find you after waking to a cold, empty bed?”

You had to at least smile at his dramatics, which seemed to please him as he stepped further onto the balcony. 

The light of the moon gave his already pale skin and iridescent glow. His silver curls were just a little ruffled from their perfect coif as his eyes held you with a tired softness that made you ache. It was in moments like this you remembered why poetry existed; paints, canvas, marble, clay, they were too clumsy of tools to capture all of him.  

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, pulling you from your musings. 

“Just needed to clear my head,” you said. “Didn’t want to bother anyone with my plucking.”

“Perish the thought. I rather enjoy your plucking.” He nodded to the empty spot next to you. “May I?” 

You couldn’t think of a reason to argue, so you didn’t try. Astarion had proved himself one of the few people you could enjoy a peaceful silence with. So long as he didn’t expect you to entertain him, there was no harm done. 

You scooted over to allow him room. 

He took it, only to pull you against him, caging you between his legs. 

You gave a small yelp of surprise, only just managing to keep hold of your lute. “What are you doing?” 

“Making myself comfortable.” His hands found your waist, pulling you closer so your back rested against his chest while his chin made a home on your shoulder. “Go on dearest, start plucking.”

You snorted out a laugh. Gods above, he really was a cat sometimes. He didn’t ask for attention so much as demand it and in a way only the most heartless could be upset by. 

“It’s rather difficult for me to perform with my back to the audience,” you said as some attempt at protest. 

He gave a noncommittal hum. “I’m inclined to disagree. But if it does bother you, consider me a humble patron observing a rehearsal.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  

Settling back as best you could, you began again, humming a tune to yourself as you worked out the cords. 

A different kind of peace settled over you as he held you. You had come here to be alone, something you had gotten used to over the years. Astarion didn’t have to be here with you, but he was. He chose to sit here in the dark and listen as you played your troubles into the air. It was an alien comfort, one that still left you a little unsure, but it was a comfort nonetheless. 

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one before,” Astarion observed, gently breaking the silence. 

“I would think not, seeing how it’s only been in my head for the last few months,” you teased. 

He nodded as you felt him shift awkwardly beneath you. “Far be it for me to speak on your artistic vision, but is it meant to be so repetitive?”

You stopped your playing as a flush of warmth came to your cheeks. There was a reason why rehearsals were usually kept private. “Sorry, can’t seem to find the ending.”

“Might be easier if you wrote it down,” he suggested. 

“That would require me knowing how.” 

“You don’t know how to write music?” He sounded so genuinely surprised, you had to laugh. 

“Love, I don’t even know how to read it.”

“Really?” 

You shrugged. “Just not how I learned. They weren’t exactly letting riff raff like me into the conservatory.”

You could all but feel the furrow of his brow as his chin pressed against your shoulder. “So every song you’ve ever played, original or otherwise, you taught yourself, by ear, and stored away in that head of yours?”

“You make it sound more impressive than it actually is. Plenty of bards do the exact same thing,” you dismissed.  

He hummed in thought. “Perhaps. It does explain why so many of them don’t seem to have anything going on behind the eyes.”

“I’ll try not to be insulted.” 

“Present company excluded,” he amended, pressing a kiss to the back of your ear for good measure. “Why do you think I’m so impressed? Beauty, talent and brains are such a rare combination.” 

You gave a small huff, earning you another kiss on the temple.

“I’m sure we could find somebody in the city to teach you,” he offered. 

You shook your head. “Not interested. Besides, I’ve found it an effective filtration method. If I can’t remember the tune the next day, it probably wasn’t worth learning in the first place.” 

“Oh darling, who knew you could be so cruel to your fellow artists,” he said, full of approval. “But, what about when a song of yours is done? Surely then it would be worth preserving.” 

“If I’ve done my job well, then the memories of those who have heard it will be preservation enough,” you said. “It’s how all the best songs are passed on anyway. The specifics of who wrote it and when get lost, but the melody remains. It stays in the world because people want it to stay in the world. I think there’s a kind of poetry in that.” 

He let out a long exasperated sigh. “How nauseatingly romantic of you. One little problem though, people’s memories are shit. Give it a few centuries and it will barely resemble the original. At least if you write it down they can’t muck it up.”

“It’s obvious you haven’t met many musicians,” you said, dryly. “People are always going to have their own interpretations. Putting it down on paper doesn’t make it any less a memory. Personally, I’d rather keep it living in the mind than in a stagnant drawer somewhere.” 

“Or I can just make sure nothing happens to the original.” 

He tried to keep his voice light, but there was promise beneath that tingled at the back of your neck. His arms held you a little more tightly. His body tensed. It was as if he was trying to guard you from something, but who or what you could only guess at. 

“Astarion–”

“Don’t,” he said, sharply. “I know you want to say something comforting and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear you go on about memory or legacy or things to remember after you’re gone, because you’re not gone. You’re here. You’re here with me, and I don’t care who I have to kill or what bargains I need to make, but I’m not letting you go.”  

He turned his face into your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse. To your surprise, no teeth accompanied the gesture. He just breathed, inhaling your scent deep into his lungs. His touch lingered on your skin as some of the tension left his body; the steady beating of your heart calming him. 

“I don’t want memories,” he whispered. “I just want you.”

Your lips parted to speak, but quickly closed. You knew there was a correct thing to say. Letting go was a part of life, whether you liked it or not. Sooner or later, everyone became a memory; but, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear and that wasn’t what you felt. 

The promise he made wasn’t some collection of meaningless words, but a desperate, blood soaked plea. For the first time in so long, you knew somebody would be upset if you died, not for the loss of income or poetry, but because you would be gone. 

You wanted to tell him you loved him. You wanted to tell him you didn’t just want memories either. You wanted to make the same promise and then hide away somewhere safe where the world wouldn’t dare touch either of you; but, you didn’t say that either. 

Instead you placed your hand over his, squeezing his fingers. 

“You have me,” you said, softly. “I’m right here.”

A shuddering breath left his body, as if all the emotion he had been containing was suddenly pushed from his lungs. His arms stayed around you, but his whole body relaxed as his head found a new place to live buried in your neck. 

“Keep playing, my heart,” he said. “Don’t stop.” 

How could anyone say no to such a request? 

Your hands found a melody, different from the one before; something complete and familiar. As soon as the song finished you transitioned to another and then another, never stopping until Astarion’s hold became slack and his breathing turned deep and steady, signaling his trace. Only then did you set down your lute and curled into his arms to finally sleep. 

You would finish your composition another night. The morning would find you, but you had time. Air moved in and out of your lungs. Your heart still beat. You were here and you were going to stay. 

[agirlwithglam]

Motivation: things to like about these subjects

Math:

Isn’t math kinda magical in a way? See, the thing about math is that it’s the same in every country! Every equation, no matter how hard or complex or long, can easily be broken down into much easier ones, (like simple adding, multiplying, dividing, or subtracting) Once you know what’s going on, it’s not really that hard. (+ take cute notes!!)

Science:

Ookay, honestly? Science is genuinely so interesting! How your body works, how plants create their own food, how the whole solar system was made/ operates, whether there’s other life out there, chemical reactions & experiments? If you actually tried to be fascinated by it, you’ll be surprised how incredible it all is! (+ take cute notes!!)

English:

Me personally, I loveee English. You can too by trying to romanticise it!

If you’re doing poetry, like what’s there not to like? Poetry is such a beautiful language, it’s a way of expression through gentleness.

Writing short stories? This is my favourite. You can write it about anything, the possibilities are endless! Doesn’t it excite you?

History

Don’t try to remember facts and dates of events, try to learn the story behind it. You’ll find that it actually becomes so much more interesting if you remember the story, the emotions, the plots of the event.

Romanticising: hot chocolate or some hot coffee, studying at home, hair in a messy bun, playing some classical music in the background.

(+ also in class when you’re taking notes, you can doodle pictures of the people (stick figures for me lol), how they’d feel like or events on the side to add a bit of fun to it)

And honestly, history is such ‘romance subject’ (like arts, music, literature, languages)

Geography

Become good at it. If you don’t already have an interest in geography, then what helped me was becoming good at it. Paying attention during lessons, taking cute notes, etc. becoming good at it made it so much easier and less scary

Languages

This is also what I’d call a “Romance language”. Also dont you want to learn new languages? So many people decide to learn languages later in their lives because they find out it helps you in one way or another, but in school they’re already teaching it to you in the BEST WAY! Also knowing and being able to speak more than 1 languages fluently makes you SO powerful bc then you can speak in more countries. And also imagine how impressed people would be?!

Music

Have fun with it! It mostly depends on what you are doing in your music lessons, but what you would normally be doing is learning/ practicing an instrument. Don’t be immature and play it at random times when the teacher is talking, but just have fun with it! Again, like i said earlier, so many people start to learn music so much later in their lives and here it is being handed to you on a silver platter. TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT!

Art / art&design

Personally, I LOVE art!! It’s another “romance subject”. It’s a beautiful form of expression. Even though you may not be doing what you want to be doing, still have fun with it!! Be creative! And importantly: loosen up! Art, like beauty, is very very subjective. One person’s scribble can be another’s MASTERPIECE! So stop bring so worried with it being “correct”. Just have appreciation.

P.E (physical education/ sport)

I just don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t like PE. Like you don’t even have to learn anything, you just run around playing fun games. And as a bonus u get fit!

xoxo, vanilla

[mrfancyfoot]

I headcanon that Raphael is all about cheesy, romantic things (for better or worse). Being the visage of a perfect gentleman. Swooping in as the gallant, princely savior. Being chosen over other suitors.

He'd shower you in roses and gifts. He'd set up scenarios for himself to be the hero. He'd meticulously take note of little things he notices about you through direct interaction or spying to exploit later. Obsessively writing about you in his little diary from bed while giddily kicking his feet.

Those gifts might be finery (perhaps taken from some unfortunate soul), questionable poetry, and the heart of your enemy, but any way you cut it, everything is about showing off his prowess, his status, his ability to provide, and why he's better. He likes his complex games and the slow pursuit.

I think he'd be pretty devoted if only to maintain that image of being perfect. At least while his focus is on you. He might have some dumpster fires behind curtains, don't look there.

The mortal part of him may even crave true affection, devotion, and a coy, storybook courtship. Very much a "only soft for" vibe. That he can slowly corrupt. He'd love someone who could match a lot of his energy and ambition. Someone he can show off and have on his arm.

It could also explain why he (at least publicly) dresses more conservatively and akin to a human noble instead of like many other cambions and devils. While it probably helps disarm his targets to look more like a human noble when they first meet him, he could also enjoy the romantics it allows (he's into a lot of mortal things despite his denial of his own mortal blood). I have a related pet theory that his comfort with mortals/mortal things may come from being raised or forced to live in the Material Plane for at least a time. He really likes lullabies.

Would he be a good lover in bed? That is up to anyone's interpretation but I personally think it's likely that there isn't much love between him and Haarlep and not many probably match up to the standards of an experienced incubus (one of these days I'll go on my spiel about Haarlep). Haarlep's a cheeky devil themself. At the very least, Raphael probably thinks himself fantastic in bed and a perfectly giving lover (even if he's not).

He'd be the big, evil devil guarding the gilded cage he's put his beloved in from do-gooders and the covetous.

[livefromthedas]

That Time Flirting Accidentally Worked

By ClickClickBoom

(Also on aao3 here)

Chapter 4: Alexa, Play Hot In Here By Nelly

Summary:

Wherein Emmrich very nearly teases Rook into spontaneous combustion.

Still got the touch, Peepaw. Way to go.

Notes:

Not going to lie, I adore writing for this particular version of Rook. Leaning into the idea that Emmrich finds her limitless supply of cringey awkwardness surrounding romance as humorous as he does charming gives me life.

Should have the last part (5) up soon. It does get a bit steamy, but nothing too explicit. I'll save that for the absolute rabbits that are my Veil Jumper Rook and Lucanis.

Thanks for taking the time to read my silly little thoughts. ♥

——————

Necromancy: Advanced Spirit Transmogrification by Aura Beerenbrock

Souls Between Realms: How Our Understanding Of Energy Displacement In Death May Be Wrong By Helgas Felsenbaum

Applied Fade Physics by Igor Rauthenbaur. Forward by Emmrich Volkarin.

So. Many. Books.

Within five minutes, Rook’s nervousness at being surrounded by such an intimate portrait of a man whom, for all of her infatuation, she was still very much getting to know had evaporated, and sheer curiosity took its place.

And Maker have mercy, the man had BOOKS. Complicated, rare, annotated, fully catalogued books. Hundreds of them, by the looks of it. And aside from a bookshelf dedicated to poetry, and a not unsubstantial selection of erotic novels sorted lovingly on a shelf of their own (Rook was still shaking off the heart palpitation that came with that discovery) all were the sorts of advanced, mind-bending subjects that set Rook’s heart ablaze. And he said he had a study upstairs, too?

So many books!

Warm and contented, Rook manned the reading chair by the fire. Coat and shoes since discarded, she was still perfectly happy to remain nested in the quilt Emmrich had left her with. A steeping cup of tea in one hand, the other lead its way delicately through the 16th edition of a book whose cover was emblazoned with an eerily glowing title: Understanding Anatomical Motor Function Through The Procedural Dissection Of The Undead.

“There’s tea on the counter, love,” she said to the sound of Emmrich returning downstairs, gold bangles chiming with him the whole way.

“Says the woman who insists she hasn’t a clue how to flirt,” she heard him tease as he fetched his drink.

It was only once she could feel him watching her a moment later that she glanced up from her fascination with the book in her lap.

She froze. Blinked owlishly once. Twice. And pushed the glasses back up the bridge of her nose for a better view.

Emmrich stood just within reach of the firelight, leaning back upon the table there, taking a slow draw from his tea. He’d discarded his boots, green vest, belt and crimson cummerbund. He’d removed the glove and the rings and bangles that covered it from one arm, but left the gold on his gloveless hand alone. His otherwise pressed shirt was unbuttoned past his collarbone, sleeves cuffed to his elbows.

Rook didn’t immediately realize that her eyebrows had disappeared behind her bangs, or that the blush across her cheeks ran so hot it made it impossible for a moment to make direct eye contact with the man.

It was frankly hard to register much of anything, save for one very stark realization.

Emmrich Volkarin’s perfectly tailored facade was gone. And Rook suddenly felt a bit dizzy.

“Rook, darling,” The chuckle in his voice grabbed her attention, and her gaze snapped up to meet his, “Breathe.”

Rook choked back a laugh, “Right, that. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he mused, reaching to place his tea cup back upon its saucer on the table behind him, “If you’re uncomfortable, darling, that’s quite all right. We can always-“

“Oh, I absolutely am. But also… please continue.”

The daft joke escaped Rook before she could stop it, and Emmrich barked a laugh.

“You’ve an incredible knack for saying the absolute last thing I expect in the most damnably Rook way possible.”

“Thanks,” Rook teased, pulling a face, “I think.”

“You’re brilliant,” he assured.

“Might be overselling it.”

“Not an argument you’d be able to win, I can assure you… But you’re tense, darling, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, okay, so…” Rook chuckled at her own expense, and set her book and tea aside, “Ever found yourself in a situation where everything is absolutely fine, but also, for a slew of really tall, really handsome reasons you feel like you’re seeing something that you’re really not allowed to be seeing?”

“Well yes, actually. I have,” he admitted bluntly.

Emmrich mulled over a thought for all of a second before a remarkably lecherous expression settled on his face.

“Rook Ingellvar,” he teased with an accusational croon, “Are you telling me you feel naughty?”

Rook stifled the most ridiculously awkward giggle she’d ever heard in her life amidst muttering under her breath, “ Maker’s tits …” She went as bright pink as the Professor had ever seen her.

Emmrich suddenly found himself torn between bursting out laughing and coming to the flustered woman’s aid. He opted for both, pulling her up to her feet and into his arms.

“Oh darling, I’m sorry,” he laughed to tears, ringed fingers spidering warmly around the hands that had risen to cover beet-red features, teasing them away, “You’re just so terribly easy to ruffle, you make it hard to resist.”

Rook cuffed him softly on the chest before he managed to gather her hand back up again, “I’m flattered, Rook. Anyone should be so lucky to elicit such a magnificent blush—“

Flustered and infatuated and falling absolutely head over heels so swiftly it rattled her nerves, Rook leaned up and captured him in a kiss. A tension she hadn’t registered seemed to leave him, exhaling a breathy rumble from his chest. Emmrich deepened that kiss quickly, heatedly, a hand releasing one of her own to snake to the side of her neck. Long fingers laced into her hair at the nape of her neck, his ringed thumb idly tracing her jawline.

Brown eyes blown dark, and purely out of curiosity, his hand then knotted fully into her hair. He gave it a slow, firm but careful pull back, kissing her lavishly all the while, arching her nimble spine just so. The little moan that this elicit from the woman made him ache in all of the best ways.

“Exquisite, darling,” he praised.

… so that’s going to be a thing for me, isn’t it? Rook heard her thoughts stumble. She was unsure if this meant the hair pulling or the praise.

(Both. It was both.)

Craving the chance to rile a few salacious noises from the man herself, Rook’s hands fluttered to the hem of his breeches, fussing with their clasp. Breaking their kiss with kiss-swollen lips, she had just begun slinking her way to her knees when the hand in her hair released its grip and instead guided her right back up to her feet with feather-light fingertips.

“Ah-ah,” he tsk’d in a matter of fact tone that belied the salacious glint in his eyes, “Darling, if I’d planned to take you on the floor, I could have just as easily done so back at the Lighthouse.”

Sir! Rook barely managed to keep the exclamation from escaping her mouth. But, like death and taxes, the steady creep of her reddening ears were an inevitable giveaway to the full scope of her situation.

Emmrich stole another, far softer kiss at this, before gesturing towards the hallway, “After you.”

Rook felt a muscle in her cheek twitch as she wandered diligently up the hall. Once more, deflection to humor helped sooth her nerves, “You’re taking years off my life, Volkarin.”

“Darling, I’ve not even begun.”

The muffled swear he heard from her had Emmrich looking endearingly smug. He brushed hassled hair back in place with one hand before he trailed her up the hall.

[t1oui]

thinking about how living w regulus would affect harry like

he's such a fucking snob about everything. food, decor, fashion, you name it, he's got opinions on it.

he does ballet despite being the least graceful person on the planet. he's somehow pretty good at it, likely out of spite

speaks french

very much a cat person, has a cat named leo who is his baby

like yk how james and sirius are extremely codependent? that's how harry is w leo. both of them can not handle being apart from each other too long

reads a lot of stories

thinks seeker is the best quidditch position

on that note, lots of slytherin house pride. james hates it. harry refuses to put any gryffindor decorations up in his room

harry loves taking pictures just like reg so the house is filled with photographs

and ofc harry is snobby about what types of cameras he uses thanks to reg. james now just lets them deal with the cameras & photography stuff bc he's scared to get the wrong thing lol

harry is taller than reg but bc dysphoria all of reg's old clothes (like quidditch jerseys + hoodies and stuff) are his size so half his wardrobe is from reg's hogwarts days

definitely the type of guy to change his bedding & curtains & everything in his room based on the season. will anybody actually be in there other than him and his parents? not really, but he MUST redecorate

idk what this even means but snobby about candles. this is another thing james is scared to buy him

harry and reg speak french w each other more than english

since james doesn't speak french w harry (i hc he's only comfortable speaking it w reg) harry is used to having a conversation in two different languages so sometimes he'll be speaking french w his friends without noticing

he'll be in the middle of a rant and realize they don't understand a thing he's saying lol

reg and harry control the decorating for every holiday, every birthday, etc.

the one thing harry knows how to do that reg doesn't/reg didn't teach him is cooking. reg never cooked for himself as a child so james was the one who taught him

doesn't look like it most of the time but all of harry's clothes are very expensive... did i mention he's a snob

harry is such a dry texter/writer... he's such a dick about grammar when it comes to writing even tho he can barely string a sentence together when speaking

deeply sarcastic (look! a canon detail! we never thought we'd see that on this account, did we?)

will take his partners on the most expensive dates & whatnot like it's nothing... cedric the farmboy™️ is not prepared

writes sad boy poetry when he gets annoyed w someone... like harry will storm off all pissed and then he comes back 20 mins later with a beautifully written, very angry poem for whoever made him mad

has so many clothes & different curtains and bedding sets for different seasons that he also uses the closet in the guest room (reg takes up 99% of his and james's closet for the same reason)

has an inherent hatred of fake plants

bedroom is simultaneously tidy and so messy a hurricane might as well have come through

leaves a book behind everywhere he goes

secretly the worst sense of humor lmao

he may not have gotten his love of drawing/painting from regulus, but you def see reg in the way he is, you guessed it, a massive snob about art supplies

soooo indecisive. redoes his room at least twice a year

an asshole when he gets less than 10 hours of sleep... he's mildly tolerable after 3 cups of coffee (black, of course) but you might as well just ignore him until he gets a nap in

on that note is very good at making coffee and is, drum roll please, a massive snob about it. who would've guessed (somebody count how many times i've said snob in this post and comment it please and thank you)

if he doesn't like a gift he's horrible at pretending he's happy w it so people usually go through reg whenever they buy him something... this goes both ways too, people go through harry when buying something for reg

is visually james and lily's but in personality is really just reg's (and also lily's... he definitely inherited his spite from her lol)

is a crazy cat lady by age 20

at least 10 pictures of leo in his room... he has whole photoshoots for her and she poses for them

might as well not hang out w harry at his house bc he'll make out with his cat the whole time

loves going to art museums w regulus

he's a, surprise surprise, snob about art. james just doesn't comment on art altogether atp

his vocabulary is a weird mashup of french, english, and hindi that makes it very hard for anybody who doesn't know him well to understand what he's saying lol

looks angry until he smiles (he got this from lily but a life with reg has perfected it)

needs a golden retriever to his black cat in any given relationship (enter cedric and cho) (yes i'm going to push my rarepair on everyone reading this)

tl;dr being raised by/living w regulus has turned harry into a massive snob about literally everything and regulus is proud of it (blink twice if you need help, james)

[stormblessed95]

Hi!

Long time no see....

I did TRY to get this finished as soon as I could, but between the rollercoaster of 'Are You Sure?!', the hellscape that Jikook spaces (on Twitter/X and Tumblr) became (and honestly were already...), and trying to shorten everything down, it took a good while.

But I refuse to keep this past 2024, so here's an gift for the holidays (or maybe not considering the word count 🫥)!

I wanted to articulate exactly what my thoughts and concerns were, especially since this is a more serious topic regarding Jimin’s work and art, but I don’t think it came off that well before.

Hopefully I do better this time!

I’ve seen the many anons that were spamming your and other Jikookers’ inboxes the second WHO and MUSE released because “OMG Jimin said she/her!! He’s single and looking for a woman to love!” became the newest narrative.

While I do think it would be perfectly okay for him to want a female partner, it does make me slightly upset and sad, that people resorted to being homophobic and honestly misogynistic as a response. There is a way to discuss Jimin's potential romantic partners without being nasty to queer fans or possibly invalidating Jimin’s identity (especially since it is not likely that he’d ever fully come out (if he is queer/bi) in the way most people think nor want, given where he lives and his line of work).

Even the way people were talking about women was questionable. Going on about how it is outrageous for Jimin to deny himself the chance to be with a woman, have a biological family, and overall is wasting himself on Jungkook (if they are in a romantic relationship).

Making women out to be objects for men to use and only worth making/raising families, the homophobic rhetoric towards the longevity of queer relationships and same sex parents, as well as the blatant disrespect to Jungkook (that he’s “not enough” or “not right” for Jimin). If someone thinks that Jikook are nothing but platonic friends, that is perfectly fine. But to degrade their bond, as well as Jimin and Jungkook’s characters, is just unnecessarily cruel.

In regards to your response, I would love for nothing more than to say that it helped with my understanding of Jimin and MUSE, but I’m honestly not completely sure of that….

My first ask was sent right after the behind video for MUSE dropped, so before some of your posts that you linked about MUSE and WHO were posted (though I did read them again!).

Before I continue, I do want to make a few things clear:

I’m not stuck on any of my assumptions or thoughts being the “correct” way to interpret MUSE.

I’m not here to convince anyone that Jikook isn’t in a romantic relationship. I’m honestly really just confused.

I don’t need anyone to convince me that Jikook is still real.

I’m simply having a conversation and trying to process my thoughts and MUSE with someone that I trust and respect. Do I always agree with everything said? No, in fact disagreeing with others (Storm in this case) is how I tend to find out how I feel or think about a topic or situation.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about what exactly has been confusing me with MUSE, and I’ve narrowed it down to three main topics or questions: Is MUSE a conceptual album?, Is WHO how Jimin actually feels?, and What does this all mean for Jikook?

This is going to be long, I’m sorry in advance!

IS MUSE A CONCEPTUAL ALBUM?

Initial Thoughts

Since I’m used to Jimin’s recent work, FACE and his Photofolio, having lots of Jimin’s own inspirations and ideas tied into it, like Greek Mythology, German Poetry, Robert Mapplethorpe’s Imagery and Work, ect, with the title being MUSE, the idea that Jimin was going to vaguely write about his inspirations or muses (how Closer Than This is considered for ARMY) seemed likely to me.

Then as the track titles were revealed to be more romantic sounding, it felt like he may have used the concept of love to better articulate another deeper message. Or that he chose to write about a fictional love and focused more on vocal and production styles, in a similar way to what Jungkook did with Golden.

Post MMM

 While watching the MMM video for the first time, I was confused because Jimin had mentioned MUSE being more vague (or conceptual) than FACE but that WHO was his “feelings” after the previous tracks. Ultimately, I took that as him wanting to write about love but not having current personal experiences to pull from, so he decided to make up a fictional love story/crush, and then WHO comes at the end being like “actually that’s not true. i’m not in love, though i want to be.”

Then I saw this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/just-orbiting-you/756542511466643456/muse-is-a-concept-album?

I went back to watch MMM immediately, and was almost horrified at how I managed to miss or maybe interpret parts of Jimin and Namjoon’s conversation differently.

JM: I really tried to express all the emotions I felt at the time. “What do you talk about these days?” “How are things going?” Those were things Pdogg asked me about and I felt that it had been a while since I felt excited about something.

RM: Oh, over something.

JM: Yeah. We hadn’t been active as a team for a while either. I was working hard, I wanted to do well and was trying but it felt like it had been a long time since I was immersed in something or felt excited about something.

RM: So, since your life felt really bland, you expressed your different feelings through Muse?

JM: I tried to capture that in my album. I set my album like this, from tracks one through five, those emotions compared to having a crush and confessing my feelings.

RM: Having a crush is exciting.

JM: Exactly! So I share how I feel, then in track six which is the title track, I go, “no, that wasn’t really true”. “When will I feel excited about something again?”

RM: Then does it connect to Face in any way?

JM: Not really. It’s not that connected.

RM: Face was then?

JM: Those were my emotions then. Getting clarity, and this time it’s just vague.

With this in mind, as well as the fact that BOTH Jimin and Namjoon talked about Jimin’s work, singing, and idol identity more than anything to do with love, made the idea that search for love = search for his inspiration/excitement with his art more possible.

MUSE Behinds

Then the Behinds for Muse dropped….

Which led to my first ask:

https://stormblessed95.tumblr.com/post/758126579695190016/hi-ok-so-i-just-rewrote-everything-i-wanted-to

Looking back now, I don’t think I presented WHY I was so conflicted after that video that well in my initial ask.

JM: This album has a lot of cheerful songs. But I wanted to try a different approach for just the title track. There will be a lot of fun songs.

JM: It was harder to write the lyrics this time. I had to pretend to go through experiences I haven’t had before. I’ll explain it one by one in more detail later.

So I know a lot of people have been using the “pretend to go through experiences I haven’t had before” to explain the “looking for love” vibes of WHO, but my understanding of Jimin saying this was that it’s towards the first five tracks (where he sings about having a crush and falling in love). While both relate to it being a concept, it being about the rest of the album (the love part) does make it sound like he’s currently single.

JB (Jon): *interpreting Jimin’s ideas* I’d like to fall in love. I wanna, I’ll do what it takes to fall in love. I still don’t feel it, so what is my heart waiting for?

JM (Through the Translator): It’s just a bit sentimental, so it doesn’t get too intense like, “Where is she?” It doesn’t get too depressing.

JM: It’s not supposed to be sad or anything.

Translator: He’s not like, not too deep into it. He’s like “This is what I’m feeling right now”.

JM: It’s kind of embarrassing to explain emotions. It feels like someone found my diary.

Translator: Thank you for explaining everything so honestly.

JM: My ears are red. *touches ears*

I really do want to hear more of what Jimin told Jon directly about his (Jimin’s) vision for the song.

While Jimin still could be working through the idea of a concept about his inspiration, when he says “It feels like someone found my diary”, to me it really did sound more personal to him than expected.

Especially to be getting so embarrassed about it.

JM: I’ve poured all my emotions into this, so I was very embarrassed just now. Even though they just wanted to ask about the story I wanted to tell. It’s just, everyone…. *laughs*

JM: Everyone’s just living alone, right? That’s what it is.

Yes, technically he does LIVE ALONE or he could have been using the feeling of not having that excitement to being alone….

But I'm curious as to what he meant by “everyone’s just living alone, right?” within the context of WHO, MUSE, or even in general?

Producer: If the album is going to be all about expressing the process, we could just go all out conceptual.

Producer: I thought we could do a story with a specific concept, and I thought it’d be great if we chose a name for a band.

With SGMB, the confusion for me was more about them mentioning it being about “expressing the process” and being conceptual after I had thoughts about WHO being more personal.

Now I wonder if they meant the process of falling in love.

Response to Your Thoughts

I really liked your take on the title of MUSE and relating it to inspiration and the Muses of Greek Mythology. It fits in line with what we’ve seen from Jimin, as well as what I was initially expecting.

Like I said above, after going back and paying attention to what they were saying (I literally typed out the entire video to go over 💀), the search for his inspiration and a version of himself that he’s fully satisfied with seemed likely to be the concept of MUSE.

Rejecting WHO, because “he didn’t write it”, feels not only disrespectful, but stupid to do so. It’d be one thing if Jimin had clearly stated that he had no connection to the lyrics/story and just liked the song that was given to him (though this is still weird, because him liking the song and presenting it to fans is valid and important). But that’s not what happened.

Yes someone else wrote WHO, but we’re literally told AND shown that Jimin was involved when they wrote it. That Jimin himself explained what he wanted to express through the song. Along with his further involvement with the MV and the choreo.

If he is explaining his search for inspiration through the idea of romance, that is incredibly smart and endearing of him. It shows me how much his work and art matter to him. That he’s willing to work on bettering himself (even if I thought he was already amazing) to achieve even better results that he can truly be proud of.

While I can see where topics surrounding his sexuality can come into play with WHO, more so with the MV, I’m under the impression that Jimin has come to terms with any gender expression or sexuality issues he’s had a long while ago. But still, even if he is accepting of who he is, others (ARMY, South Korea, The World, ect) might not be.

I’m happy though that even while in this search (whether for inspiration, satisfaction, or love) that he’s still able to be happy and content with where he is at and who he is.

Producers’ and Jimin’s Thoughts

Hearing that MUSE was born after Jimin was so excited to work on music, especially considering the darker topics discussed in FACE, makes me so unbelievably happy. The songs ending up as upbeat and hopeful, even romantic, really does make sense in that context.

But I'm honestly more and more confused the more people talk about this album.

The producers say the album is about looking for some imaginary woman, while every song other than WHO is gender neutral. Even with WHO, we are shown a version that was gender neutral.

“He’s a Korean Idol. He’s going to be portrayed as straight!”

So why is Jimin not following that?

Most (if not all) of what I hear him talk about in relation to MUSE is gender neutral. I don’t have an issue with Jimin making love songs about women, but make it consistent with the rest of the album that THEY (Jimin and Producers) wrote then!

Is it Personal or Conceptual?

Yes…

It's true that conceptual doesn’t have to mean fake, but the question I’m often left with is “In what way is this album conceptual?” Is it his search for inspiration and excitement of his work through a romantic lens OR is it his search for his person through a made up love story?

The idea of most of the album being love songs about a made up relationship/crush just to be like “I’m actually single and alone!”, does frustrate me a little. Like he’s an Idol, it’s already assumed that he’s single.

“Please misunderstand”, Park Jimin, what does this mean??

At first I thought maybe he meant him being in a relationship, because the songs (up until WHO) read as him confessing to someone or telling ARMY about his partner. But WHO exists on the album… so that narrative is already clear.

So is he not LOOKING FOR A WOMAN? Or is he not SINGLE?

Is the album not about his LOVE LIFE but his work?

Because ANY of those would actually make more sense to misunderstand.

Why is he releasing this in the military? I’d understand if he was planning on revealing a partner, but based on what Jimin, the producers, and WHO are saying, he’s single. So is he announcing that he’s looking for love once he’s discharged? Then we go back to it being assumed that he is already single… and not going to lie, that is a little strange to announce? Why make an entire album for that?

Why is Closer Than This on the album? I’m desperately hoping it’s not some sick way of saying “At least I got ARMY”..... and then what is Letter for?

IS WHO HOW JIMIN ACTUALLY FEELS?

The Song

So the only song that Jimin doesn’t have writing credits on is supposed to be the one depicting his “true feelings”... Interesting.

According to the producers, the song was born out of Jimin having trouble relating to a love serenade they were trying to write initially, and thus ends up asking himself if he can ever really love someone. With the song apparently being about the reality of feeling lonely and melancholy, and asking yourself where the person for you is , it does make me think that he hasn’t been in a long term romantic relationship for years, if it’s directly about Jimin and not just the concept of the song.

“He’s an Idol, of course he’ll say he’s single and doesn’t know what love is!”

Ok, but why mention it at all?

I could maybe see Jimin not being out to his producers (or more so with his possible relationship with Jungkook), but it’s also not hard to just take him at his word (via the producers) that he’s unfamiliar with romantic love.

Jimin mentions that when he meets up with friends, they’re all feeling similarly flat. I wonder if that flatness is towards not being in a relationship or feeling uninspired with life and/or work? He goes on to say it’s not a sad or scary feeling, but it’s also not exciting. This could go for either concept (Love or Work) to be honest.

The MV

Initially with the MV,  I just saw Jimin dancing with girls trying to find the one but ending up alone (in line with the song). The only thing that I really had trouble processing was the billboard…

I’ve read through multiple analyses of the MV since my first viewing, and I’ve noticed a lot more details that are somewhat questionable.

Auto Calibration being the main one as it flashes on screen after Jimin dances with men and then leads into him dancing with women. This does give some queer vibes, and makes me interested in what “story” Jimin had in mind with WHO as the choreo also has similar vibes too.

Jimin mentioning people instead of just women as potential options when passing by is also interesting, especially when he has mostly talked about this album gender neutrally.

The billboard with SOMEONE’S EYES dropping after Jimin sings “Who is my heart waiting for?” does seem as though it's an answer for Jimin, or maybe others. Especially when WHO with NO QUESTION MARK and Keep Going are written on it. In my opinion, it does resemble Jungkook's eyes. But I find it hard to take it as a promotion of some sort when it quite literally interrupts the MV, seemingly for no reason, instead of being a poster in the back.

Then of course, there is the insane potential connection of Taeyang, someone Jimin is a known fan of and is now friends with, showcasing his then girlfriend (now wife) on a billboard in a MV….

The Choreo

Most of the choreo just matches with the lyrics, but there are some parts that I found interesting.

During a Chorus part Jimin joins up with SIX OTHER MEN. I don’t know if this is supposed to be a BTS reference or just formations. But what is the point of having SIX when there is only FIVE later for the girls vs boys part? Why not just keep the seven men (including Jimin) and have seven girls? Where’d the other guy even go?

Next in Verse Two when Jimin sings about “taking her places they ain’t found yet, putting it all on the line, and being that someone she can count on”, he dances with two men. Why? Would it not be better for him to do some sort of partner choreo here?

In the bridge, he repeats “who is my heart, heart waiting for?” as he passes by BOTH WOMEN AND MEN. Sure he only tries to match with women, but he’s a kpop idol and the song uses female pronouns, so that’s expected. I’m sure the male dancers were most likely included just to have it look better, but considering Jimin saying people when talking about it, the gender neutral version of the song, and that Jimin was involved with the choreo, it’s something to consider!

Jimin also keeps mentioning the choreo feeling like a short film or musical, which makes all the film (play, pause, rewind) details in the MV fit.

I am a bit disappointed that he, once again, warned fans about him interacting with women in the choreo. Even to the point of saying “moments that you might find uncomfortable” and “please don’t be too disappointed”

This is part of the reason I’m genuinely confused if this was to be some big “ARMY I’m dating/going to date!” announcement, because why would he care??? He mentions that “it is part of the grand scheme of things”, does that just refer to the story aspect of the choreo or is there more to it?

His conversations with his friends come up again, about how there are few instances to feel really strong emotions and him thinking “Should I start feeling more passion?” while making WHO, and that the writers of WHO worded the story he wanted to tell in such a lovely way.

The choreo has a lot of fun theatrical elements as he seems to want to express a lot of picturesque scenes, and the dance suits him while being simpler and fresh. But he’s still concerned about how to express the emotions for this song, as it isn't a sad song, but it does kind of become one towards the end.

Jimin’s Truth

With the amount of story elements, I’m considering the song being more of a way to describe his feelings about needing passion in his life than a detailed recount of his “failing love life”. It’s still his thoughts and feelings, but maybe expressed in a more digestible way for the audience.

If he is being up front about his romantic past, then I really do hope he finds his person, whoever they might be.

Park Jimin OF ALL PEOPLE deserves to love and be loved!

WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN FOR JIKOOK?

Being More Open

I know Jimin, and all idols, needs to be careful when talking about love. It’s why I’m so confused as to why this concept, and why now? Though with Jin stating that he wrote Falling for someone, maybe this is just part of BTS being more honest and open.

I do want to take Jimin and Jungkook’s words and actions seriously, however part of what has been said about MUSE and WHO from Jimin and his producers, does make me question if I (and the rest of us) were mistaken of what the nature of their bond is.

Why Does It Matter?

I think part of the reason that it's important to me to know if Jimin is legitimately saying he’s single, is that I do want to respect him and his words.

“So why were you shipping him with his bandmate?” 

Personally I’ve always left room for doubt when it comes to Jikook. It’s not everything I think about in terms of BTS, Jimin, and/or Jungkook. Nor is it the end of the world for me if they’re simply platonic friends. I just thought Jikook seemed like they were/are dating.

Now I’m a little confused on where I stand, and knowing what MUSE and WHO are about in relation to Jimin would help. I know you obviously can’t know exactly. But I’m hoping I’ll get something other than “Jikook is real! Stop doubting them! You’re projecting your internalized homophobia!” OR “Jikook isn’t real! Jimin is straight and looking for a woman!”

Random AYS Interjection

I did want to finish this before Are You Sure premiered because I didn't want to keep talking about this past then and really didn’t think I had that much more to say.

But as I was going through my ask, your response to me, your posts you linked, my notes on Jimin’s video, the new videos that were being uploaded, and other anons and bloggers opinions, I realized this was going to take longer than I thought.

Part of me was also curious if my thoughts on MUSE would change how I saw Jikook in Are You Sure. Honestly my surprise when I didn’t find anything that pointed to them breaking up or being just platonic, was nothing compared to seeing that my opinion was uncommon to quite a few in the Jikook Community….

“What about the Car Conversation?!?!”

OK???? What about it?

Honestly, watching people discover that Jimin and Jungkook were busy and missing each other (or at least quality time) in 2023 for the first time this August was interesting to say the least…

We could get into the abuse and bullying allegations, calling Jimin being anti romantic over things taken out of context or making it into some weird narrative that Jimin doesn’t love Jungkook as much or that he sees their relationship as the Devil, or the fifty other weird things some of y’all said on your "Jikook Supporter" blogs…

But this is about MUSE, so THAT RANT will have to wait!

Final Conclusion

I’m still confused, but I do think after reviewing things that there is more to MUSE than I think. Especially with stories and theatrics being involved in so much of the concept.

I really just want to know what MUSE is about. The misunderstanding thing was fun for like a couple days, now it just makes me anxious and stressed. But maybe it was supposed to be like this 😔

Thank you for actually responding to my first ask so nicely and being willing to have this discussion with me!

Sorry this response took forever, hopefully it's somewhat decent 😭

Hope you're doing well, and are having a good holiday!

— Nice Muse Anon 🎨

I'm going to cry. I typed this whole fucking thing up. And it got deleted. So here we go again 😭

Hi love, I'm going to do this in a bit of a direct response thing. Copy what you say in red and then reply to it and so forth. Here we go. It won't be EVERYTHING you say, just the parts I wanted to make a comment about....

But I refuse to keep this past 2024, so here's an gift for the holidays (or maybe not considering the word count 🫥)!

And yet here I am months later. Sorry!

Your first 3 opening paragraphs about homophobia and misogyny.... Hard preach!

IS MUSE A CONCEPTUAL ALBUM?

Rejecting WHO, because “he didn’t write it”, feels not only disrespectful, but stupid to do so. It’d be one thing if Jimin had clearly stated that he had no connection to the lyrics/story and just liked the song that was given to him (though this is still weird, because him liking the song and presenting it to fans is valid and important). But that’s not what happened.

Agreed

Yes someone else wrote WHO, but we’re literally told AND shown that Jimin was involved when they wrote it. That Jimin himself explained what he wanted to express through the song. Along with his further involvement with the MV and the choreo. If he is explaining his search for inspiration through the idea of romance, that is incredibly smart and endearing of him. It shows me how much his work and art matter to him. That he’s willing to work on bettering himself (even if I thought he was already amazing) to achieve even better results that he can truly be proud of.

Agreed x 2

Hearing that MUSE was born after Jimin was so excited to work on music, especially considering the darker topics discussed in FACE, makes me so unbelievably happy. The songs ending up as upbeat and hopeful, even romantic, really does make sense in that context.

It does make sense in that context!

“He’s a Korean Idol. He’s going to be portrayed as straight!” So why is Jimin not following that?

This is part of why he is beloved. Him and BTS. They do this all the time and queer or not, it's impactful and meaningful and special to so many people

It's true that conceptual doesn’t have to mean fake, but the question I’m often left with is “In what way is this album conceptual?” Is it his search for inspiration and excitement of his work through a romantic lens OR is it his search for his person through a made up love story?

Personally, I think it's option 1. People can have their own opinions though, no right or wrong answer. Some might even have other options they think it is

The idea of most of the album being love songs about a made up relationship/crush just to be like “I’m actually single and alone!”, does frustrate me a little. Like he’s an Idol, it’s already assumed that he’s single.

1000% fair and I can even agree a bit with that frustration. Mostly my frustration there is with the company and fans though that cultivated this environment for idols

Why is he releasing this in the military? I’d understand if he was planning on revealing a partner, but based on what Jimin, the producers, and WHO are saying, he’s single. So is he announcing that he’s looking for love once he’s discharged? Then we go back to it being assumed that he is already single… and not going to lie, that is a little strange to announce? Why make an entire album for that?

I don't think he is announcing anything exactly. Like it's not a release meant to be for an announcement. If that makes sense. He isn't trying to inform people he is single and/or ready to mingle. He is trying to share emotions and a story. Why during MS? Idk.

Why is Closer Than This on the album? I’m desperately hoping it’s not some sick way of saying “At least I got ARMY”..... and then what is Letter for?

Usually singles that are released before albums get put on the album. Personally I think that was a one off goodbye song for ARMY before the army. I don't think it actually has anything to do with the album concepts or themes at all... Lol it just got stuck on the album because of release times. But that's just me and what do I actually know 🤷‍♀️

What is letter for? Good question. There are soooo many theories lmfao

IS WHO HOW JIMIN ACTUALLY FEELS?

The Song

According to the producers, the song was born out of Jimin having trouble relating to a love serenade they were trying to write initially, and thus ends up asking himself if he can ever really love someone. With the song apparently being about the reality of feeling lonely and melancholy, and asking yourself where the person for you is , it does make me think that he hasn’t been in a long term romantic relationship for years, if it’s directly about Jimin and not just the concept of the song.

Fair enough friend. I disagree but that's totally fair and valid feelings to have

“He’s an Idol, of course he’ll say he’s single and doesn’t know what love is!” Ok, but why mention it at all?

Because with the concept and theme being what they are, it would be discussed to hell and back (low-key hello is us in this post) and it's "damage control" regardless on how I feel about that, it's most likely what it is. No matter how annoying

I could maybe see Jimin not being out to his producers (or more so with his possible relationship with Jungkook), but it’s also not hard to just take him at his word (via the producers) that he’s unfamiliar with romantic love.

I personally Don't form my opinions too much based on things that are second hand. I still take them into account for sure. But I don't put too too much stock into things that via someone else on behalf of any of BTS. Because really, they can just say anything. Now don't take this as me dismissing things said, because I'm not. I'm just clarifying for everyone that I form 85% of my opinions ONLY on things that are direct from Jimin himself and based directly on Jimins actions. Things are going to be influenced by personal bias always as well too

The MV

I think we are mostly just mostly on the same page with everything you said here

The Choreo

Again, mostly think we are on the same page about your thoughts here. Will just comment specially about....

I am a bit disappointed that he, once again, warned fans about him interacting with women in the choreo. Even to the point of saying “moments that you might find uncomfortable” and “please don’t be too disappointed”

Very fair and honestly same. Again, mostly in the fans and company that have cultivated that environment he feels like he has to operate in now. I do wish he would care less about it though.

This is part of the reason I’m genuinely confused if this was to be some big “ARMY I’m dating/going to date!” announcement, because why would he care??? He mentions that “it is part of the grand scheme of things”, does that just refer to the story aspect of the choreo or is there more to it?

Jimin just cares a lot and very deeply about everything that matters to him, which includes his job and his fans. As for the grand scheme comment, I personally think it's in regards to the story aspect of the choreo, but that's just me

With the amount of story elements, I’m considering the song being more of a way to describe his feelings about needing passion in his life than a detailed recount of his “failing love life”. It’s still his thoughts and feelings, but maybe expressed in a more digestible way for the audience. If he is being up front about his romantic past, then I really do hope he finds his person, whoever they might be. Park Jimin OF ALL PEOPLE deserves to love and be loved!

HARD AGREE!!

WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN FOR JIKOOK?

I know Jimin, and all idols, needs to be careful when talking about love. It’s why I’m so confused as to why this concept, and why now? Though with Jin stating that he wrote Falling for someone, maybe this is just part of BTS being more honest and open.

Between Jin saying he wrote falling for someone, and Joon with some of his songs and posts... And some other things and comments, I really really hope that they come out of MS feeling more free and giving less of a fuck about certain fans and their feelings about things. But only time will tell

I do want to take Jimin and Jungkook’s words and actions seriously, however part of what has been said about MUSE and WHO from Jimin and his producers, does make me question if I (and the rest of us) were mistaken of what the nature of their bond is.

Fair enough friend

I think part of the reason that it's important to me to know if Jimin is legitimately saying he’s single, is that I do want to respect him and his words.

Highlighting the respect part, because everyone should want to do the same

Personally I’ve always left room for doubt when it comes to Jikook. It’s not everything I think about in terms of BTS, Jimin, and/or Jungkook. Nor is it the end of the world for me if they’re simply platonic friends. I just thought Jikook seemed like they were/are dating.

Yes

AYS comments....

Honestly, watching people discover that Jimin and Jungkook were busy and missing each other (or at least quality time) in 2023 for the first time this August was interesting to say the least…

It really brings back up that whole media literacy thing I keep bringing up people's lack of and as well as people's lack of understanding of relationships in general (platonic and romantic) doesn't it. Lol

We could get into the abuse and bullying allegations, calling Jimin being anti romantic over things taken out of context or making it into some weird narrative that Jimin doesn’t love Jungkook as much or that he sees their relationship as the Devil, or the fifty other weird things some of y’all said on your "Jikook Supporter" blogs… But this is about MUSE, so THAT RANT will have to wait!

Always willing to have any kind of discussion with you lovely 🎨! Either through asks or DMs.

Your conclusions

I’m still confused, but I do think after reviewing things that there is more to MUSE than I think. Especially with stories and theatrics being involved in so much of the concept.

I agree

I really just want to know what MUSE is about. The misunderstanding thing was fun for like a couple days, now it just makes me anxious and stressed. But maybe it was supposed to be like this 😔

JIMIN PLEASE. YOU ARE KILLING US. And this is for sure how it's going to stay. We are getting NOTHING more from him 😭😂

Thank you for actually responding to my first ask so nicely and being willing to have this discussion with me!

Fucking always. But I feel like I didn't actually DO anything for you here and I'm so sorry! I wish I could be more helpful for you in a discussion. Let me know if there are things I can give a more in depth opinion on if I haven't already?? I enjoy talking with you and hearing your thoughts!

~ Storm⛈️