I'd be so happy to see (read) you bathe the King of Heroes™️ in spice (the most exquisite, 🔥🔥 you have to offer for Gilgamesh)? Perhaps a focus on how well he can focus on lording (cherishing/spoiling/gifting) over the one who has earned his favor, in bed? 🥰 Honestly, just here to read your take – in whatever shape or form – on his (A+++) horn over his beloved; HCs or drabble. Darker kinks or not, if it rocks your boat for him, I will gladly take anything. Thank you, thank you, pseu xoxo
For cough inspiration/cheering on for your entire pseu slings 🥳, please have:
Friend, I cannot TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS IDEA (and your brain) (and this gif). Thank you for giving me this incredible playground and vent for my own personal, uh, imaginings. 🥰 ilyssssssm!
(Requests are open through May 1 if you would like to get one in, reader!)
Perhaps the greatest benefit of pleasing a king so well as she has is the chance to feel his fine king’s mattress at her back. She is used to humbler surfaces and far fewer pillows. The mattress on his bed is soft and sweet-smelling, dried grasses and herbs and all the other stuffing practically sublime beneath her.
But above her is the king himself, and he is definitely sublime, and the amusement in his gaze is very warm and gentle and knowing, and it makes her hot. She is so glad her king is not a fake, that he does not boast things he cannot claim. When this golden being boasts, his words are the truth. He can claim anything of earth or of heaven; he is both. And tonight there is an unearthly warmth in his eyes, and every second she thinks she can be calm, that strange heat makes her skin feel like it is being gently tattooed with some great mystery. She will not look away. He told her to look.
“Afraid?” he asks.
“Honored,” she says immediately. If she was forced to go without grain she could sustain herself on her reverence for him.
“What a proper answer. Good,” he tells her, and lifts one of her wrists from her silk-covered belly to his mouth. She wears only a gold belt and the high skirt, split at both sides, in a rich blue. It’s the finest thing she has ever worn but he does not seem to care about it at all. He kisses her below her palm, then licks the kiss, and the gasp she sucks in through her nose makes him laugh. “Relax,” he orders. “You are here because I deemed you worthy. Do you question my judgement?”
“Never,” she swears.
He hums and keeps his eyes on her as he moves his mouth back to her wrist and lightly scrapes his teeth over her pulse. She can feel it jump so strongly she thinks he must feel it, too.
“You did well,” he says graciously, placing her arm back on her belly and leaning over her on his bed. He looms. “Few earn this. Know that you are free to enjoy everything that happens here tonight. I will not tell you so again.”
She stares into his eyes, and knows only a want to look at him and look and look, forever. It is as though two bloodred moons look back at her, vibrant from their place in the sky. Expectant. “Thank you, my king,” she says quietly. “I will keep trying to please you.”
“See that you do,” he mutters as he comes down to her mouth. He does not kiss her, exactly, but he sucks her lower lip into his mouth and gently presses it with his teeth. She already feels like swooning and does not hide the lustful cry that comes out of her open mouth. That is his. It is not her place to deny him.
He stays above her, sublime and regal. But he turns her what feels like every which way through the night: onto her side where he grinds into her, on her back where he holds her by the hips and blesses her breasts with suckles and teeth. On her stomach, where he hauls up her hips to come close to him in heaven and pounds into her so fiercely the pillows do nothing to muffle her cries of pleasure. He laughs when she finally stops trying.
“There it is. Let them all hear. My entire great city in every direction, you let them know who is king.”
“Gilgamesh!” she cries.
“Louder!”
“Gilgamesh!” she screams as he presses into her and grinds himself deeper, so deep if he were not half god she knows it would hurt. Everything should hurt, but he keeps touching her and it does not. His fingers are unerring and graceful, occasionally tweaking but almost always blessing her with strokes and circles and zigzig patterns that make her legs fall open like an unrolled carpet, something meant for him to walk upon. She can hear the way her body never stops slicking itself for him-- he never lets up, it is always his heavenly mouth or fingers playing her. She did not know she was a lyre but she shakes at his every pluck, whether he uses the fingers of his hand gloved in gold or the naked one.
In moments of rest they feed each other apricots drizzled with honey, bites of cheese and pistachios. There is cold water flavored with roses and sweet wine. He tells her “Do not swallow,” before he kisses some of the wine into her mouth and her head swims as though she has had a full cup too fast. Some leaks out one side of her mouth and he laughs again-- he laughs so often her heart is weak-- and makes great show of cradling her face and licking from her chest up to her lips.
The sky is more purple than black by the time his energy finally wanes, as though he has kept the world alive through the night by staying awake with her. She is ready to bow beside his sweet-smelling bed and stumble away when he tugs her back to his sweaty chest with a huff and tells her she is to sleep there if she does not want to sour his mood. She tells him she would never dare and promptly falls asleep, where her dreams will never be sweeter than the night she has just endured.
She wakes on her stomach at midday, alone. There is one of the king’s tablets, the ones he magics, under her shoulder.
“You are to return to me tonight,” it says. Every slash of the signs is kingly and without hesitation, so when the moon rises that night she does not hesitate, either.
Warnings: NSFW content, jealousy, re-telling of canon events, denial of romantic feelings/conflicted emotions, oral and vaginal sex, spoilers for Kenshin’s main story (up till Chapter 10)
Prompt: “Mine”
Summary: A council is called, with the attendance of the Oda envoys, Mitsunari and Mitsuhide, to revise and recapitulate the terms of the Uesugi–Oda alliance. Kenshin soon discovers the relationship between the two men and their former ‘Chatelaine’ runs far deeper than one in between mere acquaintances. Glaring truths are about to be spoken and Kenshin learns once more: envy has always stood as his greatest weakness when it comes to her.
The Main Hall of Kasugayama is alive once more— rowdier even, with the sounds of inebriated merry-making in the wake of a fairly tense Council earlier in the day. One with the attendance of the Oda entourage; a few among them friends she hadn’t seen in a long while. An opportunity for peaceful negotiations, one she had been happy to take advantage of.
She fidgets about in place, restless hands curled around her cup of liquor. Eyes alert and wandering, even as her mouth grazes the cusp of her drink in a show of sipping at the contents.
Kenshin’s eyes stray once more, surely by force of habit, to catch her impatience— odd eyes following her eager gaze as she sits by his side: a pretty ornament, formerly of the Oda, one he seized for himself in a battle not long ago.
Kenshin frowns. That’s just what she was. A decorative commodity, a Princess of the Oda, Kenshin repeats the words over and over in his head, tossing and turning them about until they refuse to make sense. Unsuccessful efforts in deluding his own heart, a traitorous part of him whispers. He smothers it mercilessly.
She inclines her face towards him then, inquisitive eyes catching his gaze – the mild concern he captures in hers leaving him desiring. Her lips part on the sound of his name, surely in question before the Oda envoy named Ishida impertinently cuts into their space. Nodding amicably to Kenshin once, he turns to address her, “Here you are, princess. It is a relief to see you well.”
Unsavory. Poisonous. The sake burns tasteless down Kenshin’s throat to catch sight of the joy brimming within her gaze at the appearance of the other man who dares his hands forward to grasp hers within, smiling at her with no less amount of care and affection.
“You were just the person I was looking for, Mitsunari. Well, Mitsuhide too. But I must give you these before you depart tomorrow morning.” She hands him one of the furoshiki bundles she’d kept close by her side for the entirety of the evening.
“A gift for you.” Her smile widens at the pleased look that takes Ishida’s face when he unveils his present. “Writing implements! Thank you so very much. I can only hope the fabric we brought you earlier can offer you even a modicum of the joy I feel at your thoughtful gift.”
They speak of the affairs of Azuchi Castle and its town— two people close enough to share a laugh over a drink or two. The stark awareness of her comfort in Mitsunari’s presence scorches bitter ash across his tongue—a feeling he tries and throttles into submission. Failing efforts; until he feels the warmth of her hand across his where it rests clenched – he notices belatedly – on his knee. “Kenshin.”
Nothing sounds better than the syllables of his name on her tongue and he relishes the sound of it. “What is it?”
“I’d like to excuse myself for a while. Mitsunari tells me he hasn’t seen Mitsuhide in a while. I’d like to go search for him, give him his gift before he returns.” The effort it takes to slip his hand away from hers, to not hold on and tell her to stay, right by his side. The last of his iron-clad will hardening, crushing back base impulses before he does something he shall regret. Kenshin watches her leave in silence, the ice in his chest surfacing within odd eyes to leave them devoid of warmth as he swipes the last of his drink. Bidding Mitsunari a swift, curt farewell, Kenshin excuses himself for the night.
The air outside washes pleasant over her cheeks, flushed from sake and happiness as she finally spies the back of familiar robes; silver strands almost luminous under the moon. The man facing away from her as he speaks to one of the Oda retainers; low, indecipherable words exchanged in between the two— ones she fails to hear from where she stands. Hesitance and caution in her steps, she shuffles forward, silent so as not to disturb the men. However—
Mitsuhide tips his head in her direction. “And what is our dear chatelaine doing out here all by herself? Tired of entertaining the Dragon, I presume?” Dismissing the man she believes is his subordinate, he turns to face her.
She shakes her head, venturing closer. “I was looking for you, Mitsuhide. Why’d you leave the feast midway?”
His gaze – just as discerning as she remembers it – sweeps across her and holds. “And what of you?”
“Irritatingly evasive as always, I see.” Her smiles; of amusement, she lifts the object she carries, up for inspection. “I wanted to hand over your gift.”
“A gift? For me?” Something akin to surprise flickers its way into his voice and she continues, pleased to have caught the man off-guard.
“Yes. I had gifts prepared for everyone at Azuchi once I learned you’d be visiting. I’ve left the rest in Mitsunari’s care and brought yours.”
Slender fingers reach for the offered box, a soft question spilling, as if an afterthought. “I gather these gifts are your way of announcing your decision? You’ve decided to stick by the God of War.” A lull follows her nod, Mitsuhide choosing to work through the binds of his gift before he abruptly pauses, a smile stretching slow across his face at the revelation. “A salve for cuts,” he muses.
“I wasn’t in Azuchi for long but I did gather you dealt with… questioning our prisoners. I often noticed the nicks on your hands.” Mitsuhide continues to watch her, levity dancing across his features but she continues, unperturbed by that look. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands and give you something for their well-being since it’s clear you care as much about your body as you do about taking proper meals.”
A soft, sudden sound slices through the quiet of the night; low and sonorous and she recognizes the quality of Mitsuhide’s laughter, broad shoulders shaking with mirth. “Seems as if a certain silly bird is far more aware of her surroundings than initially given credit for.”
She angles a critical glare at the offending man, half of a mind to smack the smile right off that irritating face of his before he stops, his ridiculing fit supposedly having subsided for the time being.
That penetrative gaze finds her once more and stays. Mitsuhide’s voice drops several octaves, softening in a manner she’s never heard from the man, as if in preparation of revealing a heavy secret. “I assume Azuchi will grieve the loss of its Chatelaine for a long time to come.”
She catches those barely tangible threads of mischief in his gaze… but his words, she accepts them for the sincerity she hears in them and smiles. “Thank you, Mitsuhide. For everything. Try not to make things hard on Hideyoshi, alright?”
“Why, you almost sound like the Mother himself, little one.” Tapered digits reach for her face then, as if he means to trace her features. She thinks she catches the streak of something within gold eyes, almost… almost—
“Continue as you are and I shall cut you down where you stand, Kitsune.”
Concentration shattered, the scent of cherry blossoms and sake assails her senses before she feels the drape of a familiar arm around her, possessive in its hold as Kenshin catches her back against his chest.
Angling an inquisitive glance his way, she’s rendered speechless at the barely trapped frost that seeks to skewer as if by sheer will, within eyes— sapphire and emerald, edged to a dagger’s point.
The two men continue to stare at each other and she almost holds her breath at the unusual tension that pulls taut within the air. Opening her mouth to intervene in whatever it is she finds herself caught in, before Mitsuhide’s silken tones slice through the tightening pressure. “Ah. I see how it is. How utterly lucky for you, little mouse. It seems as if your favor is returned.”
“And plenty.” He adds, a corner of his mouth pulling into an enigmatic smile to catch the crush of Kenshin’s jaw, the hand he spots trembling to pull his sword free at his hip. Mitsuhide retreats a few stops before inclining his head at Kenshin in farewell. “The hour grows late. We must depart for Azuchi at dawn’s first light, so if you shall excuse me now.”
Affording one last glance her way, Mitsuhide melds one with the shadows; footsteps fading fast into the distance before all that drapes them is heavy silence, settling pregnant with questions unspoken deep within her heart. The steady movements of his firm chest with each breath, deep and reassuring against her back, the rhythm of his heart – she notices belatedly – setting back into rest. And yet, he does not release his hold on her.
A sigh rasps past his lips, scorching hot against her ear lobe, from where his mouth rests close. Always. Close yet not quite touching.
Before she hears the low, sonorous echo of his voice forming words her befuddled mind struggles to string into coherency until it does— “What must I do to make you mine?”
—and blanks.
The tip of her tongue traces the edge of her lips, once, twice in an effort to return much needed moisture. This careful game they’d been playing for the entirety of her stay here, his eyes speaking clear and yet, his feelings still so obscure. His heart hidden from sight, tucked away close where she couldn’t reach, it hurt her every time to have the man she loved pull away from her as if her touch itself were poison or perhaps his.
Kenshin moves away, the warmth of him leaving her back to engulf her hand, far smaller in his grasp as he urges her to her feet. “Come. I shall walk you back to your chambers.”
The warmth of her touch slips away from his grasp; Kenshin turning back to return to his own quarters, far colder for her loss— before those delicate fingers find their way onto his haori. Frail. Breakable. Just as the rest of her. “Kenshin. Won’t you come inside? I have… gifts for you too.”
A foolish decision, his mind derides as he finds himself seated in the comfort of her chambers. A place he too, finds relief in, despite never having stepped through her doors before.
The colorful varied fall of fabric designated to a corner of her room. Books she’d borrowed, perhaps off Sasuke, shelved neatly in place. One of such tomes placed upon her writing desk alongside her sewing implements. Threaded needles spilling from an overturned canister as if their owner had only just left and meant to return soon.
The scent of her as she bustles about the room: the cherries she so loves, and crisp fabric— commingles with an essence that’s just her.
Kenshin finds himself inhaling, slow and deep, as if to savor the scent of her within his lungs— just as she seats herself in front of him. The objects of her quest in hand, she places in between them.
Lifting each curious gift in turn, she begins to speak. “A polish for your blades. I asked Shingen for advice and purchased the most appropriate amalgam for swords in town.”
Her hands flit towards the second canister. “This one’s tea. A herbal concoction to be exact. I’m almost certain I got the proportions right. This should help you sleep easier at night.” She speaks as if she knows of the demons that plague the object of his nightmares. Except that now… instead of a young princess he’d failed to save from the dark gallows once upon a time, the burbling ghosts of his mind reach to tear into her now.
She trails off, even as her fingers reach for the last offering. “And this is—”
“Pickled plums.” Kenshin finishes. A feeling, so intense it almost knocks the breath from his lungs, takes over and sinks as he takes silent stock of her ‘gifts’. Each crafted and procured with careful thought, her desires in doing so almost impossible to ignore.
“Yes,” she nods, face blooming into a smile. “I know you don’t fancy tea much so I’d hoped to balance that bitter gift out by this one. You’ll be able to enjoy your sake with your favorite snack for the next, good while.”
She lifts her face, hope seeping into wide eyes until all Kenshin sees is how it takes her features in entirety. A wish, surely, he is the wrong person to ask for its fulfillment.
“I know these aren’t much but…”
“No.” An obscure emotion had begun to gain meaning once more, ever since her arrival. His heart a thing she seemed to hack the vines off of. A cage that had held it protected for so long. Numbed.
Yet, slow but sure, the chaffs shedding off of the past… useless to leave him unrestrained, it terrifies Kenshin to feel the burgeoning of this nameless bloom he cannot control. Almost as frenzied as the desire to spill blood in battle.
Ire and darkness manifesting in the possession he desires to have of her: mind, body and soul— the Kitsune’s face flashes through his mind then. Deliberate words, his eyes as they had settled upon her and appraised, almost fond. Hands that had reached for her. Hands he’d wanted to slice through for daring to.
A lump makes itself known heavy within his throat. “You are…” Sapphire and emerald; glittering edges as he ventures closer, as if a beast prowling toward the prey. But she does not cower, fragile digits reaching to snag against his clothes just as his catch against her cheeks, palms cupping around to feel their warmth. A deliberate, careful sweep of his thumb across her cheekbone sends the dark fan of her lashes trembling before they fall to shroud her gaze from sight.
Uncertainty knocking distant within his ears, he coaxes her eyes back to his, the frown he feels budding in between his brows, settling chaotic and needy to have her answers. “Why? What is the reason for your kindness? Why do you… ” unsettle my heart as you do?
A hand comes up to splay across his own, emotions he dare not decipher in that gaze, spilling forth on a murmured sound. “You know why… don’t you?”
Consternation deepens its hold across his features before Kenshin rasps out what he knows. What he has known for so long. His surrender leaving him on a wretched breath before he tightens his hold on her. “Push me away, struggle and run away if you must… if you do not want me, tell me now. Or else…”
I would not be able to contain myself once I have you.
I would not be able to let you turn back into the arms of a man you truly desire.
I would ruin us both before I’d ever let go.
Stop me. Despise me.
Her breaths tremble against his lips, the heat of a fire he’s ventured too close to. The slightest of brushes against his mouth as she leans in, flooding open the violent barrage of emotions he can no longer throttle, open mouth and tongue crushing against hers to swallow her staggered moans. Clawing at his shoulders in a bid to pull him closer, her desperation spurs his own vehement desires.
Dragging open the collar of her kimono to trace the rapid flutter of her pulse against a hot tongue, Kenshin’s teeth easily close around the tendon he finds straining against her neck and her head lolls back further in a shuddering whimper to feel the force of his manic desire. Her voice leaving her on a strangled sound of his name, eager fingers thread through his hair to tug and draw him back toward her mouth, open and wanting, unbearably hot; fleshing searing against flesh— the taste of her against his tongue inundating his senses far heavier than any liquor. “I have known what I’ve wanted and for so long. And I… I am afraid.”
Her eyes – hazed over with the burden of her want, brimming along with the love he sees set alight in them – meet his and hold. Her hands, ever so tender, his salve to wounds she uncovers afresh to let him see where he hurt…. and wanted for her— she traces his features as if she finds it a wonder to be holding him as she is now and the thought sends a fresh barrage of needles stinging through his heart. “If I have you now, I won’t ever be able to let go. I’ll restrict you; shackle you down until you’re sick and weary of me. And yet… I cannot make myself let go.” Kenshin moves forward, laying a delicate kiss against her lips.
“Then don’t, Kenshin. I don’t want you to.” His lips trace her features, committing to memory as she speaks. “The man I love cherishes me. I’ve always seen him strive for my comfort and my happiness.” A kiss he places against her brow, subdued tremors taking him at the intensity of his emotions. “You are worth far more than you give yourself credit for. You won’t hurt me, Kenshin.”
“Foolish woman… you don’t know that. You can’t.” A weary smile breaks across his face but it hurts her… he sees how it causes her expression to crumple in on itself. Taking his hand within hers, she guides his palm to rest above her left breast, her heart fluttering rapid beneath the touch of his hand.
Desire so acute, it almost hurts to hold back at the exhorting look she fixes him with, asking him to fall, let go. “This is yours. If you do not trust in my words, let me be here to show you how you honor me. Let me love you Kenshin… please. Let us be in this together. Let me be your support.”
Her arms coming around his back to hold and draw close. Undoing the barely held cascade of hunger and desire: for her heart, her body, all of her in its entirety… until Kenshin’s pressing her back onto the floor, his own form overwhelming her smaller, trembling one. Her chest heaves with her breaths, heavy and rapid as she reaches to pull back the rest of her kimono, finally bared before him.
A dark, foreign growl leaves the confines of his chest as Kenshin drives her legs apart before settling himself at her entrance. “I love you. I want you. Tell me to leave you now if you do not wish for me to go further.” A broad, quick stroke of his tongue against her swollen clit sets her quivering, her thighs tightening their hold against his head.
“I want you to go much, much further. I want you so much it hurts.”
The last of her words heard and acknowledged, Kenshin surrenders to the desire that rages and runs within his very marrow, for this woman as she twists beneath his grasp. Each shallow stroke of his tongue through her folds wrenching sounds from her he swears he shall never tire of. A kiss he places near the junction of her thighs before drawing flesh into his mouth to leave red blooming in its wake.
Her hips, as if of a mind of their own, lift and press against him, her moans and hands desperate as they work to drive him closer and Kenshin’s hands slip beneath her to anchor against his mouth, fingers pulsing into the flesh of her buttocks. Tongue slipping into her depths till she cries out with the intensity of the stimulation.
Addiction rolls liquid heat in his veins to feel the clench of her deep within, gathering moisture onto an insatiable tongue. Drinking of her until she spills herself sweet against him.
Swiping a careful thumb against his lips before slipping the digit into his mouth, sucking, he gathers himself above her. The hard length of his cock dragging through her folds, coating himself in her essence before he presses in, groaning to feel the give of her wet flesh around him. Sinking deeper until she’s taken all of him up till the hilt. Kenshin reaches to find relief against her neck as he begins to move. Her fluttering walls; exquisite torture to leave him wanting to come undone in moments. Just as she calls for him on withering cries he sends higher with each harsh swing of his hips against hers.
Over and over, until it feels his own body could mesh with hers, cock leaving the confines of her wet relief only to sink right back and it’s agony; Kenshin reaching to tug a pebbled nipple into his mouth, groaning as he worries gentle teeth against the puckered bed. Frenzied fingers reaching for the bead of pleasure at the apex of her thighs, pressing in to slide them down against the slick, gathering moisture, until he feels for the place he joins her in ecstacy.
Her insides clench around him to keep within her depths every time he withdraws and Kenshin moves to place his lips against her temple – a silent, whispered hope – trailing down toward her neck, lapping at the taste of the woman he knows he could never hope to have enough of.
For fear still held him captive within its jaws, his desire to protect her reigned stronger and as he feels the flood of her warmth, Kenshin, too, spills himself into her, binding her to him, repeating that thought over and over until one day he too finds it true:
She will not share the same fate as Isehime’s. I will protect her. She will not be Isehime.
Late merry christmas !! Can i request a letter from Shaw (MLQC) to MC where he talks about his regrets, fears and weakness. And how thankful he is to have MC in his life now ? kinda angsty but sweet at the same time ! please <3
Hi dear Nonny!
Happy Holidays to you as well! 💕 I think this Ask was meant for my lovely friend, the incredibly talented @pickle-scribbles, who is currently in the midst of generously accepting letter requests for the weekend!
Hope you see this request, dear Faa! Bless you for blessing all of our eyes with your amazing writing. I know I can’t wait to read every single letter! 🥰
Meowlayn! Happy Birthday 💕💕 You've been such a wonderful blessing to our lives collectively and I am so, so happy to know you and your beautiful characters/art. I hope you have an amazing day ahead. 🥳
OH WOW, FAA (T____T) 💜
I am incredibly grateful for your kind words and like... so happy you think my small contribution to fandoms and I don’t know, my ramblings about my OC are interesting xD I am glad we got to meet thanks to our shared passion for hot sad 2D characters UwU
Thank you for your support dear, and for your sweet birthday wishes <3
YES! I LOVE reading match-ups. 🥰🥰🥰 If you would be so inclined, sweetest friend, I'd like to request one from any of the fandoms mentioned or as you see fit. 💕 I've exposed myself in front of you plenty LOLOLOL so I don't think I need to get TOO descriptive but I'll drop these extras: Procastinator (OOOF). I LOVE running (casual or sports). I am SHORT. 🤧 I don't dislike my physique but am not particularly fond of my curves (AAAH). (Is this alright? 🤣)
FAA!!! Thank you for requesting 💕 I hope you like your boos 🥰 (Yes, it was perfectly alright)
The characters I picked for you are: Lucien (MLQC), Comte se Saint-Germain (IkeVamp), Kiro (MLQC), Saeyoung (Mystic Messenger)
These characters were picked mainly because I could see you being able to have a very comfortable and open relationship with them. And also for their intelligence 👀 They respect you, your mind, your decisions—everything; Lucien and Comte are the calmer personalities here, while Kiro and Saeyoung are a touch more excitable. The main themes here are of partnership, trust, freedom and intimacy.
Lucien and Comte are my primary picks for you! They’re people who are capable of being deeply empathetic, perceptive and have A+ communication skills. You can always talk to them about anything, without worrying about consequences or judgment. They can judge your moods and needs rather quickly as well, always willing to adapt to them and provide support accordingly. Honestly, with one text from you or a quick phone call, they’ll know if you’ve had an exhausting day and immediately start doing what they can to make it better. Food, comfort, space—they’d do anything. They’re people you can explore every aspect of life with, because they’re capable of being very objective.
They know when to let you be, and when to step in if the procrastination is eating at you. They never push, though. They’d put actual effort into figuring out what works for and motivates you!
Please take Lucien with you when you go running. He could really use the fresh air 🤣 Comte is more of a ‘waiting at the door/finish line with a towel and a cool drink’ kind of partner. He might join you occasionally, if only to admire you as you run 🥰🤣
They will worship you. They love every single inch of you, showering you in such reverential and adoring praises it might make you cry. Or embarrass you, if it’s in public. Words aren’t even required, it’s all in their heart eyes 🥺 And in conflicts, they would defend you without losing their calm, ever willing to be at your side in every situation.
They’re not as open to speaking about their own problems as they are to solving yours, mostly because they would rather focus on you. But they get that it’s unfair, and would try to be better. This is where your own understanding nature comes in, and allows them to open up to you with ease. Trust is a two-way street 😌
(They can also match your thirst every step of the way 🤣 They play it cool, but the beast is often lurking behind their placid masks lmao)
Kiro and Saeyoung are the type of guys who’d be your best friend and boyfriend in one package. They’re adventurous, exciting, and mischievous. They can be a little clingy, but if you’re okay with that, it’s all good! It’s how they show their affection. They’re the kind of partners you could go backpacking, clubbing, scuba-diving (honestly ANYTHING) with. They’re always up for anything as long as you enjoy it! They’d watch all kinds of shows with you, sneaking in with snacks as soon as you sit down to watch something. They’re your personal sunshine providers, especially Kiro. You need a little cheering up? They’ve got their pom poms ready. However, they’re quite prone to hiding their own low moods, which might be frustrating at times. Kiro would be better about it, because he would come to you for comfort. Saeyoung needs to be chased after 🥰
They’re both quite active, especially Kiro, and would love to accompany you on runs. And of course, they’re ready with banners and t-shirts with your face on them if it’s not a casual run. They’re both serial procrastinators (SAEYOUNG!!!) so in this case, you have company 🥰 They might tease you for your petite stature, ruffling your hair and leaning on your head. Punch them 💀 They just think it’s adorable.
They’re so, so affectionate and are extremely offended if you say you’re not fond of any part of you, and commit themselves to the mission of changing your mind, or at least showing you how much they adore it.
Date nights at home with Lucien and Comte would often have a more intimate atmosphere—talking comfortably, discussing your days/weeks, any plans you might have together. They prefer to eat face to face than watch something as you eat, choosing to put on a movie or tv show after dinner if you guys wanna watch something together. With Saeyoung and Kiro, it’s livelier. They too love talking to you as you guys eat, but they don’t mind watching something either! They’d still provide some sort of commentary 🤣
Thank you, dearest Pickle! Have a nice weekend! 😚💕
⭐️ — How do you get your inspiration?
Sometimes, little details from canon stick with me, and that’s where I begin.
I often incorporate concepts I enjoy (fairy tales, folklore, music, and nature, to name a few!) in the stories I’m working on. Yojijukugo and other meaningful words, phrases, and idioms also spark story ideas for me. I love to include flowers and their symbolism in my works, and I usually look at Hanakotoba as a reference.
I work on multiple projects at once, so when I’m not feeling inspired by one WIP, I switch to another. Usually, I have a longer story as my main WIP and a few ficlets as my side WIPs. (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)
There are random moments when I get fic ideas, and when that happens, I immediately open the notes app on my phone and jot them down. It can be a dialogue or a vague idea for a scene. In any case, I try my best to save them for later before I forget (and regret!) 😂😂😂
Dropping by to wish a happy belated birthday to one of the most awesome person I know on tumblr. I LOVE YOU NANA and am grateful everyday for our amazing friendship. 🥰 Hope you had a wild birthday 😂💕💕
FAAAAAA MY SWEET! Thank you so much 🥺💖👉🏼👈🏼 AAAAHHH I LOVE YOU and truly, feel blessed to have found a (QUEEN) friend in you 🥰🥂💞💞
Atlas, if you do have any, otherwise Prometheus!（*＾ワ＾*）
I DO! 😍😍😍😍😍 Thank you, my beloved sweet pickle! (Gherkin?! I’ll stick to calling you Pickle. 😂💚)
Atlas - What is your favorite myth?
I like LOTS of myths, but two come to mind, both ones I want to write my own versions of someday. With my endless free time. 🙃🙃🙃
Arachne was a very talented weaver who either declared herself or was declared by another person to be even better than Athena— that Athena. Athena found out and was Not Happy™️, in the way of myths. A challenge between them was arranged to prove who was really better, and they both wove exquisite tapestries. Athena couldn’t find any technical fault with Arachne’s work, and its theme (gods’ unfairness and cruelty toward mortals) enraged her so terribly that she brought about the young woman’s death by hanging. Arachne became a spider. Athena looks 😬 here but from the very first time I read it in elementary school (!), my brain has been humming over this story and puzzling out how things might have really gone. I have it, I just need to write. it. down.
My other big favorite is Atalanta, and I have similar plans to get out my own version of this someday, but the short version of (part of!) her myth that interests me the most is that she refused to marry any suitor who couldn’t outrace her. Hippomenes only succeeded (the others were put to death for their failures!) because Aphrodite granted him three golden, irresistible apples from a holy tree, and he threw them into Atalanta’s sight one by one during their foot race to distract her. :} So that’s obviously trickery and bad! But... I love it, and I see lots of pockets I want to put my hands in work this into a story I love even more than the myth as I have read it. ♥️🍎✨
