#in choice of trying and amuse

[vasiliquemort]

Experimental, learning peace of latest evening's expressions - a gentle drop, and ode, and thought of young and so demure to ways unspeakable<з

[fkitwebhaal]

In contrast to Ulder Ravenguard, I think Gale could bring any of the Origins home as his fiancee and Morena Dekarios would be fine with it.

I am saying this not as a jab against Ulder or even claiming Morena is a better parent than him (we don't know anything about her except her and Gale seem to get along).

I say this solely because if your son gets dumped by a Goddess, has a magical orb that is stuck in his chest, spends a year in a tower refusing to leave, vanishes without a word, and then shows up months later minus said orb AND in a happy relationship? And that person talked him out of blowing himself up for said Goddess and helped him save the world? IDGAF who he brought home as long as they genuinely love him and treat him well.

Women my son is going to Hell for to fix her heart. Not an ideal place for him to be but fuck it, he's getting out of the house, as long as they send post cards.

Former warlock who was cursed by patron and is now either a duke (heck yes) or going to Hell for his bestie and my son is going with. Same as above, sounds great, did you know my son's fiancee can dance.

Warrior from the astral plane going to fight a lich queen? I cannot stress how exciting it is to see him to get out of the house and she can and will carry him to safety, zero objections.

Vampire spawn? A little blood loss is WAY BETTER than the orb situation, just make sure to watch your iron intake son. Eat more spinach.

Former cultist to an evil God? Let bygones be bygones, key word here is former.

Former leader of a cult of an evil god. KEY WORD HERE IS FORMER IT'S FINE.

[demonzoro]

[so no head vine vc] so no baratie arc?

[baekuras]

Veilguard thinks its funny having me choose between 2 of my favourite companions/their factions/cities smh

Other things I've found slightly amusing is pre-launch people who had their eyes set on Lucanis, aka Mage Killer galore, ready to make mage rooks and it turns out he is actually super chill with anyone not his target or who hasn't wronged him/his

Other thing I've found bemusing looking back is people looking at Taash and going "omg butch lesbian" and rn that's very much on the brink of shifting at least from what Taash just told my Rook in a cutscene

[tiredassmage]

dot recreates ocs ?/we're not counting: this shithead bounty hunter as a war domain cleric of bane

[countlessrealities]

@questionablemuses sent: He's just going to flop himself across Alastor's lap purely by coincidence & convenience. "You're my pillow now. Deal with it, cause I'm not moving." ( -shoves a random Vox for Alastor for annoyance- c: )

Alastor visibly startles at the sudden, more than unexpected weight that drops on his legs. The rest of the residents are out, pursuing Charlie's latest activity, so he had decided to take a seat in one of the lounging rooms, alone with a mug of coffee and the daily newspaper. Quiet time is hard to come by these days and, while he thoroughly appreciates the entertainment, at times he still needs his moments of peace and solitude.

Pity that his plans have been ruined before he could even get properly comfortable in his spot.

What the fuck......?

"...Vox?!"

The name leaves his mouth in the same way one would help after they have accidentally stepped on something disgusting, a mixture of stunned horror and rising annoyance.

What in the Seven Rings was that idiot doing at the Hotel? His self-appointed rival is the last person he would expect to see inside those walls, or even anywhere near the building.

Vox should be very much grateful for his shock, because it's the only thing that has kept the Radio Demon from tearing him into shreds the moment their bodies have touched.

"͓̽W͓͓̽̽h͓̽a͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽k͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽'͓̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽, ͓̽o͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽p͓̽a͓͓̽̽l͓̽ ?" He asks, static already starting to distort his voice.

A clawed hand raises, but Alastor finds himself posing for an additional moment before he can push the other Overlord off. Vox looks...odd. His limbs are a little too relaxed, his screen keeps wobbling lightly from side to side and he can see little glitching spots popping up at random. Not to mention the stupid, half lost look on his face.

Was the brainless bunch of circuits intoxicated? That would explain his boldness. Nonetheless, it doesn't make the whole situation even more unpleasant to deal with.

The static grows louder as shadows pool all around Alastor, shaping into thick, eerie tentacles. They roughly grip at Vox's limbs and middle, carelessly ripping him out of his chosen spot. The other Overlord would find himself on the floor, but not before one of the appendages has smacked him hard across his screen. Not violently enough to break it, but almost.

An obvious warning.

" N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅȨ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑V̵̧͖͙̲̯̞͇̲͔̤͊̔͌͂͆͑́́̑͒͝Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅÝ̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕Ḩ̵̛̘̤͙͔̝̫̖̻̦̞͙̺̅̿͘͝I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂ Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏G̶̺̥̎̄͌͑͂̔̏̓̂́̈́͜͝͝͝͝ͅĄ̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅ O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅŖ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅȨ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑X̶̨̢̗͍̪͚͍̱̭̣̰̳̠͌̓͌̅͆̈́̊̅̓̿͠T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔M̶̧͚̪͉̯̜̰͎̘̀͋̇̀͗̍́͆̑̏͂̿̊̚Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑ I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔ W̵̰̻͍̉̔̅̀̐͐͒͆̒̚I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔L̷͖͈̓͌̎̉͒͗͂̓̌̚͝L̷͖͈̓͌̎̉͒͗͂̓̌̚͝ Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂Ḩ̵̛̘̤͙͔̝̫̖̻̦̞͙̺̅̿͘͝Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ Ý̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅO̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅU̴̡̢̱̳̳͓̗͔̮̔͜͜͜Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅU̴̡̢̱̳̳͓̗͔̮̔͜͜͜L̷͖͈̓͌̎̉͒͗͂̓̌̚͝ Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅḐ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜ Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏Ḑ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜Ḑ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜ Ý̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅO̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅU̴̡̢̱̳̳͓̗͔̮̔͜͜͜Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ V̵̧͖͙̲̯̞͇̲͔̤͊̔͌͂͆͑́́̑͒͝O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅI̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔C̴̀͐ͅȨ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅ M̶̧͚̪͉̯̜̰͎̘̀͋̇̀͗̍́͆̑̏͂̿̊̚Ý̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅ B̶̨̛̺̤̱̾̀́̋̔̆̏̎͘͘Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅO̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅĄ̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏Ḑ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜C̴̀͐ͅĄ̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕. "

[hubba1892]

Glitzer, Glitzer, Frau Gorniak?!

[icewindandboringhorror]

this is not the exact one I watched but I saw one of these "dish scape" things at someone's house who actually has TV (like they pay for dish/cable instead of just watching stuff online) and I think they're meant to be relaxing atmospheric stuff that you mostly ignore, but I sat there for 35 minutes watching absolutely engrossed.. further proof that I genuinely think my brain is incapable of experiencing boredom lol..

[identityarchitect]

If you got stuck in a lift with any tma character, who would you want it to be?

jon or elias no question

[stardust-and-fries]

Oh boy!! A chance for me to yap about gender at length?!?!!?!? DON'T MIND IF I DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [See tags for details. But be warned... I Popped the Fuck OFF writing this one, it's a doozy!]

Sorry if this is rude, but how do you identify? I looked around a bit and couldn't find anything, my apologies

Not rude! Honestly, I don't know these days! Lots of thoughts swirling around in my head. Maybe this is too much, but also maybe saying something instead of keeping it inside will be helpful... I'll put my gender thoughts under the cut... maybe someone can relate and offer some thoughts lol:

Recently, I came to the conclusion that I'm really not attracted to men at all, and maybe, I never have been. Looking back, I can kind of clearly see that any crush on a guy I thought I had was more like "wow, this person is COOL as HELL. I hope we can be really good friends." And then I noticed, that any crush I had on a girl felt... different. The feeling was totally different, and it still is. Have you noticed how most of the men I draw are quite feminine? I also have no idea what's going on with my gender. I know I'm me, a Yugo, I also can't comfortably say what exactly I am. Though by technicality, I am nonbinary, the word doesn't feel QUITE right to use for me. Maybe genderqueer is better. I've never identified as a man, but I have identified as transmasc and taken T. I really do like the results I've gotten from that. But at the same time, I don't really feel close to "manhood" at all, but something about having a mustache sometimes, like I tend to do, feels right to me still. I also like to wear lipstick and stuff. I don't know. I'm also not a "woman" I don't think, but I identify with more... I don't know, masculine expressions of womanhood if that makes sense? I am very androgynous in expression, in short. So basically I don't know what the hell is going on. All I know is I love women LOL. Can anyone relate to any of this? Any ideas?? I will not be offended by any assumptions you might have lol. Maybe I should just make a comic about this.

[gemstarstarlight]

I need you all to know that my roommate recently was talking to my dad and, apparently, he asked her some version of, “Do you think anyone’s going to tie down my daughter?”

My roommate responded, “She’s open to it but…eh…”

Apparently, my dad sighed and nodded to himself in the way of a weary old man who already knows the answer to his question.

[one-eternal-sigh]

yk what whenever I see a post about andy leaving it always gets me thinking about how much she truly gave up rejecting her family’s beliefs, and with how much she had to endure being sneered upon as a disgrace among purebloods but also how it probably made narcissa more bitter when she found it out and andy confessed/ was in a situation where she had to reveal her relationship because there was no way around it anymore. I think for cissa the fact that her sister had chosen ted over family, over her own sisters was probably the part which really stung.

I mean like I do feel like narcissa was extra dismissive of ted because she couldn’t comprehend the fact that andy chose some muggleborn over the assuredness of the life they already had with people who she believed would “truly” look out for her and protect her best interests. like, blood purity definitely was involved at some extent because they were literally raised in a family with strong ideals about it.

But also? I think at the core of it narcissa felt betrayed because of the gravity of Andy’s decision and the repercussions that came with it and how even despite that, andy had STILL gone through with the decision of throwing that part of her life away for another love (or in cissa’s eyes, over the love of her sisters the love that was supposed to be their one solace through the grim times of war) knowing full well what she was putting on the line.

and when faced with a choice she chose to leave that constant and doesn’t that just hurt much more?

Knowing she chose to leave. Knowing she chose something over them when they were each other’s safe space. Actively witnessing the war tearing them apart, the rifts in their previously unfaltering trust, when they were supposed to rely on each other to get through this. Witnessing what Bella was doing to herself in her thirst for power as a means to gain control, more autonomy, witnessing the cross fire between them and being trapped in this hateful middle place of still believing that they were the only ones who could look out for each other as purebloods but simultaneously just hating the extremes, still valuing the comfort that came with their bond

but then having that shattered with the knowledge that it wasn’t just bella’s tilting at extremes and inviting the worst parts of the darkness directly into their lives that was endangering their relationship but also that andy had lied and didn’t intend to choose them at all.

(continuing it into the tags because I need to yap 😭)

Family tree (intro) = Andromeda 

These crosses all over my body, remind me of who I used to be 

Andromeda always had scars, whether mental or physical, that she couldn’t heal. She didn’t know why, not even magic worked. Everyday when she looked in the mirror, she saw them, and in those scars she saw her family, and her old life. 

Jesus can always reject his father 

Andromeda escaped them, escaped their politics, their life, she had truly escaped them and rejected who she could’ve been. 

But he cannot escape his mothers blood 

Yet Andromeda couldn’t get their stain off of her, they were always going to be with her.  Toujours Pur. She would still never be pure. In her own standards, and in theirs. 

He’ll scream and try and wash it off of his fingers 

In the first of weeks when she had escaped she could feel them everywhere, hear them everywhere. She tried so hard to forget everything she had been taught, and it wasn’t supposed to be that hard. She was stained by them anyways, she couldn’t just leave without some bits of them clinging onto her. 

But he’ll never escape what he’s made up of 

Andromeda could hear their voices, yelling at her. It was even worse because Bellatrix and Narcissa tried so hard to go up to her during school. At some point they had given up, just shit-talking her to others. She couldn’t ever escape them it seemed. Even years and years after, the Family Name still got to her. They didn’t know her as Andromeda Tonks, they knew her as the blood-traitor, Andromeda Black. 

The Fates already fucked me sideways

She would never get a normal life because of them. Andromeda had escaped their house, but not them. It had seemed like Fate was always destined to hurt her. 

He’ll laugh and say ‘you know I raised you better than this’ 

She became the example of ‘not pure’, the example of a bad person in their eyes. Regulus and Sirius were taught not to be like her, and for Sirius she was the example to look up to. Draco never knew of her, until later, and still then Narcissa told him not to be like her. 

Than leave me hanging so they all can laugh at me

Andromeda became the laughing stock of the Sacred 28, the one who tried to escape. She became the laughing stock of the Black Family too, they all laughed at her attempts to leave them, knowing that she would never truly escape them. She became the laughing stock of the school, every pure blood made fun of her, luckily it was only her last year. She lost all her friends, everyone. All she had was Ted.  —-

I know this is a bit wordy but I tried lol 😭 I’ve had this in my head for sooo long and I finally wrote it down !!

[solxamber]

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil

a little something before i go all in for the milestone events <3

Other parts: Vice Housewardens + Rollo, Neige ; First Years

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle goes bright red the second you wrap your arms around him, stiffening in your hold like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He tries to splutter something coherent—maybe a reminder about PDA rules, maybe a request to know what’s going on—but his voice gets tangled up, and all that comes out is a confused murmur.

You don’t let go, though. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, prompting him to look down at you, his eyes widening with soft confusion. “Is… Is something wrong?” he stammers, gently pressing his hand to your shoulder, trying to read your face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer with a warm smile. “I just love you, Riddle. That’s all.”

For a moment, he’s frozen. Just love him? He feels his heart stumble, so unfamiliar with this kind of simple, generous affection. In his childhood, hugs were formal gestures, love was measured and conditional—a reward to be earned, rarely felt freely. But here, with you… you’re holding him because you want to, with nothing expected in return.

Slowly, Riddle’s hands find their way to your back, and he pulls you close with a tenderness that surprises even him. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief, like he’s filling up with something he never knew he was missing. He clings to you, unable to speak, as though afraid that words might shatter the beautiful warmth settling between you.

You both stay like this, tangled together in silence. In this simple embrace, Riddle feels more seen, more loved, than he ever has before. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever—a happiness he never thought he’d be allowed to have. For the first time, he feels completely at peace.

Leona Kingscholar

You wrap your arms around Leona, your grip firm as if you’ve decided you’re never letting go. At first, he’s as stoic as ever, arching an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Oi, herbivore…what’s this all about?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

But when you stay silent, he lets out a chuckle, amused by your stubborn clinginess. “If you’re hoping to trap me, you might wanna try harder than that.”

After a few more moments, his teasing fades. You’re still holding him, your head resting against his chest, heartbeat steady against his. He tries to check if youre upset and realizes then that you’re not sad, nor do you seem upset; you’re simply content. When he starts to pull back to look at you, you give him a warm smile and quietly say, “I just…love you.”

The words wash over him, soft and simple yet deeply affecting. His expression shifts, from nonchalance to something much more vulnerable. To Leona, who’s spent much of his life overshadowed, unwanted, and fighting for recognition, the idea of being someone’s first choice feels like an impossibility.

And yet, here you are, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. He swallows hard, not saying anything, but the look in his eyes says it all.

He finally allows his arms to come around you, drawing you in with more intensity than he’d probably ever admit aloud. His tail snakes around your waist in a protective loop, pulling you even closer, as if anchoring himself to you. “Don’t go getting mushy on me,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, but his grip tightens just a bit more.

But despite his usual attitude, he’s never felt this…full. Full of pride, full of warmth, full of something he’s struggled to admit he even wanted. And it’s all because of you, the one person who looked past his rough edges and stubborn exterior.

He chuckles softly, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering, “Guess you got yourself a lion for life, herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is hunched over his desk, papers and ledgers strewn around him, eyebrows furrowed as he works late into the night. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you gently climb onto his lap, resting yourself against him without a word. His body goes rigid in surprise, the usual control he wields over his composure completely shattered.

“Are you... feeling alright?” he asks, voice a little breathless, struggling to keep himself calm as you press your face into the crook of his neck. “Are you sick? Is there something wrong?”

You just shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I just love you, Azul,” you whisper softly, a warmth in your gaze that sends his heart into overdrive. “And I’m so proud of you.”

With that, you wrap your arms around him again, holding him close, and suddenly, all the strength in him unravels. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this—how much he craved reassurance, wanted to know he was worth it.

All his insecurities, fears, and memories of feeling out of place resurface, but they’re softened by your presence, and with just one hug, you’re able to ease away all that self-doubt he keeps buried.

Without another word, he wraps his arms tightly around you, his grip firm and filled with an unspoken desperation. He clings to you as though you’re his lifeline, as though you’re the single steady point in his otherwise frantic world, and for a few moments, he allows himself to just feel—to let go of the worries, to set aside the constant weight of expectations.

The mountain of paperwork on his desk feels meaningless compared to the comfort you bring, and all he wants is to stay like this, holding you as closely as he can, reveling in the feeling of being loved for who he is.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is in his element, animatedly discussing ideas for his next big celebration. His hands gesture widely, his voice bright, detailing elaborate plans for decorations, food, entertainment—he's clearly in his happy place, and you can’t help but feel utterly captivated by his joy.

Without even thinking, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly mid-sentence. Kalim laughs, hugging you back with his usual enthusiasm, though a bit of surprise colors his expression when you show no signs of letting go. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

You lean back just enough to grin up at him, eyes shining. “I’m perfectly okay. You just looked so radiant talking about the party—and I love you.”

He stares at you for a beat, completely dazzled, and then his face breaks into the brightest smile as he spins you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. When he finally sets you down, he pulls you close, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so glad you chose me,” he murmurs softly, his forehead pressing against yours. The simple joy radiates from him, a warmth and gentleness that wraps around you both. It’s a pure, unfiltered happiness that you feel too, knowing that you chose him, and he chose you.

You stay wrapped up in each other, reveling in that perfect moment, glowing with the warmth of shared love. For now, with his laughter filling the room and his arms securely around you, nothing else matters.

Jamil Viper

Jamil walks into his room, the exhaustion from managing Scarabia weighing heavily on his shoulders. But before he can even remove his shoes, you’re already there, waiting for him. Without a word, you step into his space, your arms winding around him in a gentle but firm embrace.

His body relaxes instantly, the stress of the day melting away as you run a soothing hand down his back. The warmth of your touch settles over him like a blanket, but after a few moments, he notices you haven’t let go. The silence stretches, and his concern grows.

He pulls back just slightly, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, careful, as though bracing for something serious.

You meet his eyes with a smile, your voice tender but full of affection. “I’m fine. I just… I love you. I’m proud of everything you do. You work so hard, and I see all of it. I just wanted to be here, with you.”

A deep warmth spreads through Jamil at your words, the weight of the day almost forgotten as he pulls you back into him. This time, his hold is even tighter, more possessive, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will vanish. His face buries itself into your neck, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of you—your presence, your comfort.

For once, he allows himself to fully sink into the embrace, no longer needing to wear his usual mask.

With you, he doesn’t have to hold back his feelings. For the first time in what feels like forever, he lets his guard drop, the emotional wall he’s spent building his whole life crumbling in the warmth of your arms.

“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers, the words barely audible as he holds you close. His voice is thick with emotion, a mixture of tenderness and longing. “I never want to leave your side.”

In the comfort of your touch, Jamil realizes something. He’s never felt more at peace, more cared for, than he does in this moment. He holds you tighter, savoring the feeling of being loved so deeply, so completely. No matter what happens, he knows this is where he belongs—in your arms, and with your heart.

Vil Schoenheit

It’s been a long day, and by the time you reach Vil, all you want is to collapse into his arms. But before you can even speak, he’s already analyzing you, frowning at your slumped posture, the bags under your eyes, and the way you haven’t had time to take care of yourself. "Did you eat today? Are you even sleeping? Honestly, I can't—"

And before he can finish his lecture, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He catches you with his usual elegance, barely flinching. His lips curl in that slight, amused way, but the concern in his eyes softens as you cling to him, not letting go.

"Darling, What's wrong?" he asks, his voice taking on a gentler tone as he instinctively pulls you closer. You can feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingers as you bury your face in his chest.

"I missed you," you murmur. "I'm just happy to see you. I love you. And I love that you worry about me."

Vil’s chest tightens at your words, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. He gently strokes your back, the movement slow, deliberate. “You’re something else,” he teases, his lips twitching, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You know you should’ve eaten something, and yet here you are, throwing yourself at me.”

His hands remain on you, though, pulling you closer, stroking your back with a tenderness he rarely shows in public. He may pretend to be exasperated, but the way his fingers gently brush the length of your spine betrays his true feelings. Deep down, he’s touched by how much you put up with him.

"You should be scolded for your own good," he starts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. There’s no real bite to his words this time. Instead, he just holds you tighter, deciding that, just for tonight, you don’t need any more lectures.

“You’ll never be rid of me now,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re welcome to lean on me, always.”

In the comfort of his embrace, you let go of the day’s stress, finding peace in the warmth of his arms. There’s no need for anything else, just this moment, just him.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s explaining the intricate details of a new strategy, his eyes wide with excitement. But then, suddenly, you set your controller down and throw yourself at him in an unexpected hug, effectively cutting off his speech. His hair flares a brilliant shade of pink as his brain momentarily glitches, clearly unsure of how to process what's happening.

And he is in full panic mode. His mind, always working a mile a minute, goes into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong, or if he's somehow messed things up.

“Uh—are you okay?” he stammers, voice filled with concern but entirely thrown off by the situation. You don’t answer with words, just a soft smile as you bury your face in his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper, “and you’re adorable.”

He’s used to being alone, to being misunderstood, to retreating into his games and hiding from the world. But here you are, in his arms, embracing him for no reason other than that you love him.

Despite his anxious thoughts swirling, he awkwardly places his arms around you, his body stiff at first, unsure of what to do. It takes him a moment before he relaxes, and as he holds you, his mind starts to clear. All those fears—of not being enough, or of being too much—slowly fade away, replaced by something that feels warm and real.

You, who listen to him ramble about things no one else would care about. You, who understand when he’s not up for going out, who accept him as he is. He feels so undeserving of someone so kind, but at the same time, something deep inside him stirs. It’s happiness. It’s love.

His arms tighten around you as he buries his face into your hair, his heart racing with a mixture of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He’ll never understand why someone like you would choose him, but as long as you’re here, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus stands before you, holding the gargoyle he crafted with such care, the stone masterpiece shimmering in the soft light. "This is for you," he says softly, his voice full of pride. His eyes shine with the unspoken hope that you’ll appreciate the effort.

Before he can say anything else, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He freezes for a moment, unsure, before his own arms encircle you with surprising gentleness. He’s always craved touch, but the depth of affection you offer fills him with awe.

The two of you stand there, the moment stretching on in comfortable silence, until Malleus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching your face. "Are you alright?" His voice holds a hint of concern.

You smile at him softly, your words simple but filled with a warmth he rarely hears: "You mean the world to me. I love you."

Malleus's breath catches in his throat, and before he can think, his arms tighten around you. He pulls you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’ll slip away. His heart races as he feels the weight of your love, the pure acceptance and tenderness you give him. The loneliness he’s lived with for so long, the misunderstandings, the isolation—none of it matters now.

He’s here with you. You see him, not as a prince or a fae of great power, but simply as Malleus. And that, more than anything, fills him with a kind of peace he’s never known.

Malleus buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. "I will never forget this," he murmurs softly. "I will cherish you... forever."

In your embrace, he finds something he thought was impossible—a sense of belonging. He smiles, feeling the warmth of your love seep into him, and he knows he is truly loved.

Masterlist

[satoruoo]

"you're doing it wrong, baby."

the man before you only huffs in annoyance, a pout forming on his glossed lips. you stifle a laugh as he sulks, his fingers working to untie the sad excuse of a bow that held your heel in place.

"let me try again," satoru half pleads from between your legs, "i promise i'll get it right this time."

in truth, you're enjoying the view of your boyfriend kneeling at your feet while he attempts to tie your lace-up heels. your foot is strategically placed between his legs, pretty white-painted toenails on display as he tries and fails to correctly strap up your shoe.

hell, he's kneeling in a tailored suit, and it's messing with your brain.

you're going on a date tonight - it's a fancy restaurant that satoru's been dying to try out. it'd been a pain in the ass to pick out an outfit, not because you lacked clothes, your boyfriend ensured your wardrobe was always filled to the brim with the latest fashion. no, rather, it was because he insisted you wear matching outfits.

his problem, however, was your choice of shoe. your favourite pair of black lace-up heels was your pick for the evening. he'd asked to do them up for you and you thought it was going to be a 30-second thing.

you've now been sitting here for 10 minutes.

"what the fuck is this shit?" he mumbles to himself, irritated. "why is this so complicated??"

another attempt and he's given up, leaning back a fraction to critique his work. horrible, as expected.

you laugh as satoru sighs loudly, leaning his head on the exposed skin of your thigh in exasperation. his white locks tickle your flesh, and you take it upon yourself to rake your manicured nails through his hair, fingertips scratching his undercut affectionately.

you think he's adorable like this - absolute putty in your hands. he nuzzles into your skin, leaving soft kisses on the plush of your thigh as you dutifully work your fingers over his scalp.

"how about i do one, and you can watch and do the other?" you suggest.

he perks up quickly, icy blue irises sparkling. he nods, a beaming smile settling on his lips. he shifts his weight and leans back to give you space.

"so, you take these, 'round the back, and twist, then under and wrap around the ankle, twist one more time, and - boom!" you finish tying the bow on the back of your calf and smile.

satoru's eyebrow raises immediately, an expression half of disgust and half of confusion finding its place on his features. he squints at you, "you expect me to do that?"

"precisely," you respond with a smug grin.

there's a subtle challenge in your answer, and satoru drinks it like water. a challenge? he'll do it, easy. he switches your feet, sticking his tongue out as he focuses on his task.

you're watching him, amused by the way his brows furrow in concentration as he repeats the steps. around, the straps are crossed around your foot. twist, the straps are twisted. under, the straps are hooked beneath the heel. wrap, the straps are crossed and taken around your leg. twist.

he's done it. a fast learner, indeed.

you can't help the way your lips curve into a smile, applauding his efforts. his crystalline eyes are on you again - how could they not be? you're nothing short of gorgeous in that dress - pleading for some kind of praise.

"thanks, babe." you say, bending to place a kiss on his collarbone.

(he hopes to god there's a lipstick stain there so he can show everyone in that restaurant who he belongs to.)

satoru, being the most amazing boyfriend out there, helps you get on your feet, hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you from your apartment to his car.

"you look stunning tonight, love." he says while grinning like a lovestruck fool as you slip into the passenger seat.

"i know," you answer, shooting him a smile that gets him weak in the knees, "you picked the dress, after all."

you were going to be the death of him.

tagging: @sad-darksoul

[baeshijima]

— stardust

the world is a vast place. in the grand scheme of things, humans are but a speck of dust; much like how you are sure you are nothing but a meagre speck of dust in the world he lives in, forever to be remained unseen. (if only you knew how you are the brightest star he'd ever laid his eyes upon.)

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.5k wc, royalty!au, contract marriage/marriage of convenience, fluff, smitten reca bc what would he be other than smitten, a little hint of bittersweet at the end if read between the lines aha...

A/N : ....i have a paper due monday. i havent started it. why do i do this to myself. (reca i love u can u not hear my cries and wails as fic after fic appears in my brain for u...)

Duke Reca of the northern territory; to many he is a well-accomplished noble, a young genius set for greater things, and the owner-slash-founder of the top theatre company. He is an idol — a role model to those who aspire to be more involved in the artistic side of the world.

To you, however, he is an absolute lunatic, the bane of your existence, and your contractual husband.

It's not like you had much choice. It was either: a) remain as a hollow puppet whose strings danced at your family's fingertips, or b) find some way to escape with outside power.

You, of course, chose the second option. Unfortunately, that somehow led to you meeting the young duke when out in the shopping district, trying to escape the suffocating presence of your family's knights accompanying you by running into a secluded alleyway, even if it was for but a momentary breather.

It was a whirlwind of a meeting... quite literally. Bodies flew; clothing tousled; breaths stolen. Well, at least for you it was like this. He, on the other hand, looked right as rain. (Lucky bastard.) You hadn't realised it was him at first, too absorbed in hasty apologies and the numbing bloom spreading across your backside like a wildfire (really, they ought to incorporate more padding in these flimsy clothes!), but when he uttered an apology of his own for not paying attention to his surroundings with an arm outstretched to help you stand, your mind all but blanked. What was someone of his status doing in a dingy alley? Didn't the newspapers report word of his self-confinement, having not stepped foot outside his manor in fervent preparation of his upcoming performance?

No, never mind all that; wasn't this a blatant opportunity being presented to you? An outside power that could help you escape the clutches of your family...

With gritted teeth, all sense of self-dignity was cast aside as you grasped his outstretched hand with both of your own, gazing into his widened eyes with your own narrowed ones.

"Your Grace, I know this is hardly the appropriate time nor place, but please... marry me!" Your words echoed within the enclosed space. Duke Reca blinked slowly down at you, and it was then you realised you never elaborated. "In... in a contractual marriage of convenience, of course."

"Oh?" he grinned, amusement and intrigue twinkling in his eyes. "And what is it you can offer me?"

"I..." Truthfully, there was nothing you could offer which would be beneficial to someone like him who had everything at the tips of his fingers. You were but a speck of dust in his world, merely floating and remaining unseen within his view. But even so, here you kneeled before him, his gaze wholly fixated on a speck of dust such as yourself. If nothing else, you at least had your desperation — a desperation to be your own person. "My lineage may be from that of a baron's, but I am confident I can be of use to you if you would permit it. So long as you accept my offer, I will do anything to aid you, whether that be through practical means or a performance you wish to see."

A beat of silence.

"Ha... haha... ahahaha!!"

And, as if things couldn't get any worse than a sore rear and disgruntled self, you were pulled out of your daze by a pair of gleaming carmine eyes, a maniacal grin, and his body, now kneeled just like you were, so very close to your own.

"That determination... how brilliantly you burn with such an expression!" The sheer glee which bled through his tone sent shivers down your spine, having never realised someone so esteemed had such a side to him. The duke breathed a breathy laugh and slightly backed up, his hands still holding your arms. "Alright, I look forward to seeing how brightly you will shine in your performance, my dear leading actor."

...Was it too late to back out and find an alternative solution?

Admittedly so, for the next thing you knew vows were declared and you were moved into the duke's residence. You could still remember your family's aghast expressions the moment you declared you were marrying Duke Reca and thus cutting ties with them. It was oddly freeing to see their contorted faces reveal their true nature.

Life as the duke's spouse was... something, to say the least. His servants and attendants almost seemed to have shed tears of joy at the revelation of their ever so lonely duke (their words, not yours) finally settling down and getting married, asking you questions such as how you both met, what drew you to their duke, who popped the question first, why you chose him of all people, so on so forth. It was... cosy. Something you admittedly weren't very accustomed to, but found yourself welcoming nonetheless.

One thing you never expected was for the duke to have a little pet of his own; a little toad dressed in a miniature beret and matching suit, at that. Assistant Director is what Reca had called her, and you think for someone so obsessed with the arts he ought to up his naming sense. She was also quite susceptible to compliments, something you discovered when commenting on the little toad's cute attire, with the duke's baffling translation of her bashfulness and her own compliment on your own looks. Apparently. You're not really sure, but you're inclined to believe it ever since she claimed a spot on your shoulder.

As the days-turned-weeks-turned-months bled into each other, you found yourself oddly lost at how well-adapted you have become of your new life and the duke's personality. From impromptu displays of affection both in and outside the manor to sporadic radio silence on his end when wholly consumed by his fervent passion for a project, you sometimes wonder just how you're still alive with the amount of heart attacks the man has given you.

But despite his... eccentricities, to put it lightly, there are times where you can't quite put a finger on certain expressions he would make when he thinks you're not looking. They're unlike his (once again, to put it very lightly) passionate eyes when rambling to you during mealtimes about an upcoming performance the troupe has; unlike the sheer mania he can exude when something truly sparks his inspiration; unlike the playfully smug grin he would give you when swooping down in dramatic flair to press a long kiss to the back of your palm; unlike the rare darkening of his expression that you cannot help but stiffen at when something or someone in the troupe doesn't quite match his expectations.

No. These ones are... soft. A kind of tenderness and unprecedented longing able to be identified if scrutinised close enough. It was evident in the ghost-like touches he would trail along your skin, as though afraid just a little more force would do irreparable damage. It was evident in the attention to even the most minute details, having everything from clothing to food to the decor suited to preferences you yourself never realised you had. It was evident in the way unadulterated fondness leaked through his tone when his unique terms of affection for you slipped through his lips when all was silent and you were supposed to be asleep.

"My dearest star..."

...Much like now, it would seem.

The bed dips by where your knees slightly bend, hidden under the beige covers. A familiar musky scent surrounds you not long after, and you find yourself involuntarily relaxing at the comfort it brings as your head further burrows into the pillow.

You want to stay awake, even if it's just for a second longer, to hear what he has to say to your less than conscious state. But, oh, his fingers threading through your hair and softly massaging your scalp and the gentle touch of his forehead against yours and the subtle comforting warmth that rolls off his body in waves does little to help you fight the sleep which easily takes over.

Oh, whatever! You'll just try and catch what he has to say next time.

Eventually your breathing evens out, only soft snores now heard within the large shared bedroom. Upon noticing this, Reca cannot stop the fond smile which lifts the corners of his lips, nor can he prevent the softening of his eyes as he continues to gaze at your sleeping form.

"My dearest [Name]," he whispers into the dead of night. Even now, several months later, he still cannot believe his luck to have run into you in that alleyway. It must have been fate which made him heed its call, urging him he would discover something sure to escape that terrible slump plaguing him for weeks on end.

Sure enough, it brought him to something irreplaceable; something he has been searching desperately for.

You.

And, with the tenderest of kisses pressed to your forehead that would put even the most sickening romantics to shame, he murmurs words of promise against your skin, an oath he swears to uphold no matter the obstacles which stand before him.

"In this life, I will ensure you have only the best of endings."

if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, looking up skirt, panty stealing + sniffing + licking, masturbation, professional misconduct, 18+ minors dni.

pervy electrician!toji who unintentionally shows up a little earlier at your house than he was supposed to and is rewarded with the sight of a very unprepared you hurriedly rushing to answer the door in just a baggy t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks.

pervy electrician!toji whose usual disinterested expression he has permanently plastered upon his features during work hours morphs into one of subtle interest as his dark eyes leisurely drag up and down your figure — and damn, he never gets sent out to clients as hot as you.

pervy electrician!toji who greets you with a simple nod as he brushes past you to get inside, his scarred lips involuntarily twitching up into an amused half-smile at how you ramble out several apologies for not being ready for his arrival.

pervy electrician!toji who casually waves it off and assures you that he doesn't mind; and he definitely doesn't mind when it means that he gets to watch you walk around in front of him wearing that shirt that barely even covers your ass.

pervy electrician!toji who is as well-mannered as he has to be when conversing with a customer, but makes sure to inject a little more charm into his voice just for you as he drawls out "well, what seems to be the problem, ma'am?"

pervy electrician!toji who silently pats himself on the back when he notices you grow slightly flustered at the polite term he used to address you by, leaning against your kitchen counter as he watches you explain the issues you've had with your power frequently cutting out lately.

pervy electrician!toji who has to make a concerted effort to bite back a scoff when you explain that despite being married, your useless husband has no idea how to fix the problem himself so you had no choice but to resort to calling his company.

pervy electrician!toji who can hardly even comprehend that your sorry excuse for a husband just went to work for the day and left a precious thing like you here with no power; some fools really don't know how good they have it, do they?

pervy electrician!toji who finds a rare, genuine smile pulling at his lips when you joke lightly that you'd make him a cup of coffee if there was any power for the kettle. so you're pretty as hell and you have a good sense of humour... oh, he's in trouble.

pervy electrician!toji who investigates the fuse box located at the back of the cupboard under the kitchen sink while you dash upstairs to change into something more appropriate, humming a quiet tune under his breath while he works.

pervy electrician!toji who figures out what the issue is in no time at all — there's a small leak dripping from the pipe leading from the bottom of the sink that has trickled down and fried some of the wiring; shouldn't be too hard to fix.

but for some reason, he finds himself wanting to create a reason for him to stay around here just a little longer.

so, pervy electrician!toji 'accidentally' makes the leak even worse by using the spanner on his tool belt to stretch the hole in the pipe slightly wider, causing any working part left in the fuse box to fizzle out into uselessness as a result.

pervy electrician!toji who has to pretend to be inconvenienced by the problem that he just worsened once you return to the kitchen, scratching the side of his jaw and telling you that it'll take him atleast a couple of hours to try and salvage the fuse box.

pervy electrician!toji who isn't exactly lying when he says this; just refraining from telling you the whole truth that there is no way to fix the ruined thing now. the entire box has to be replaced and he doesn't happen to have a new one with him today.

...looks like he'll just have to come back tomorrow, too.

pervy electrician!toji who keeps himself busy pretending to attempt to mend things under the cupboard, but finds it quite hard not to be distracted by your pretty self sitting atop the counter where you insisted on staying to keep him company while he works.

but, at the end of the day, pervy electrician!toji is a man, after all — a man who can't help himself from sneaking a quick peek up the edge of the skirt you changed into, holding back a groan when he catches a small glimpse of your patterned panties.

pervy electrician!toji who claims he needs to use your bathroom a little while later, making sure you don't follow him up the stairs before sneaking through the hall until he finds you and your husband's shared bedroom.

pervy electrician!toji who finds himself rifling through his client's underwear drawer like a damn horny teenager, hastily pulling out a pair of cute panties similar the ones he knows you're wearing downstairs right now.

pervy electrician!toji who is way too worked up to feel any sense of shame as he pushes his baggy work trousers down, exposing the extremely noticeable tent and subsequent wet patch staining the front of his boxers.

"fuckin' hell," pervy electrician!toji rasps as he shoves a hand into his boxers, wrapping it around the base of his painfully throbbing cock as he begins languidly stroking himself. "driving me crazy here, girl." he mutters to himself.

pervy electrician!toji who can't stop himself from holding your panties up to his face, cursing under his breath when he remembers that these are a clean pair from your drawer. no — he needs a used pair if he wants to be able to properly get off.

pervy electrician!toji who sifts through your laundry hamper like a starving man searching for scraps of food in a dumpster, his movements fuelled by the sheer need to release the overwhelming desire coursing through his veins.

pervy electrician!toji whose scarred lips twitch up into a victorious smirk when he finally finds a dirty pair of your panties, wasting no time in pressing his nose against the slick-stained crotch and inhaling your scent. and fuck, is it an intoxicating smell.

pervy electrician!toji who is utterly pussydrunk without even being near your actual cunt, tongue instinctively flicking out on its own to lap lightly at the soiled material, a pornographic moan falling from his lips afterwards.

"shit. tastes s-so sweet, heh." pervy electrician!toji grunts as he resumes those earnest tugs of his furiously hard cock, his sloppy mouth just coating your dirty panties with his glistening salvia.

pervy electrician!toji who is cumming in record time like a downright pathetic and touch-starved virgin, one press of his thick thumb against his weeping tip causing it to spill rope after rope of milky release into his boxers.

pervy electrician!toji who does actually go to the bathroom after he's pulled his trousers up and shoved both pairs of stolen panties into his pockets, cleaning himself up as best he can and checking his reflection in the mirror to make sure he doesn't look too wrecked.

pervy electrician!toji who saunters downstairs and faces you with an easy smile as if he didn't just jerk off with your used underwear pressed against his mouth, sharing the news that he'll 'unfortunately' have to return tomorrow to replace the broken fuse box.

pervy electrician!toji who tells you his usual bill for the basic work he's done today, although secretly gives you a considerable discount — one because it's you, and two because he didn't actually do anything to fix your power issue and instead deliberately made it worse so he could stay longer.

pervy electrician!toji who releases an amused chuckle when you frantically dart around the house in search of your purse, coming to the sheepish conclusion that you must've left it in your husband's car that he drove to work this morning with.

pervy electrician!toji who simply shrugs and suggests that you pay him when he comes by tomorrow instead. little do you know, however, that you've already paid him... just in the form of an orgasm and two pairs of panties instead of money.

pervy electrician!toji who is counting down the seconds until he can see you again as he drives home in the company van, body relaxed and sated from his previous climax and pockets stuffed pleasantly full with stolen underwear.

he'd say that was all in good day's work.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

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