jmliebert

[jmliebert]

♡ when gojo has a crush on you ♡

some headcanons to clear my mind 

it is known, and i mean it is KNOWN that Gojo has a crush on you. he's not hiding it; in fact, he thrives in it

stares at you with full-on puppy eyes, shameless and glowing. he's not even trying to be subtle

flirts with you like there's no tomorrow, he just needs you to know he finds you totally irresistible 

ask you out every single day, relentless 

you somehow keep running into him at the most random times and places. grocery store at 2 AM? he's there. passing your favourite cafe "by accident"? yup, not suspicious at all... 

he's genuinely confused when you don't seem interested at first. but instead of backing off, it fuels him real bad 

waits under your windom in the middle of the night like some kind of dramatic k-drama lead boy, brings you huge, extravagant bouquets of flowers just because. occasion? none, he'll say you are the occasion... 

when you're not with him, he is in the constant waiting mode. the second you appear, his smile lights up, ah!!so bright!!!  

pulls out his best modeling poses when you're around, and if he catches you staring he'll wink (obviously)

"liking what you see?" ;)) 

you blush? his favourite thing, it encourages him to be even more wild and flirtatious. there are no brakes on this train 

surprisingly gentlemanly - he opens doors, pulls out the chairs, carries your groceries like it's nothing

and would wear that pink Hello Kitty bag for you—head high, sunglasses on

has you saved in his phone as "baby  💖✨🌸💕😍🔥🍓💯” (or sth along these lines) 

that's the thing with Gojo—he acts like your boyfriend. casual touches, protective instincts, inside jokes... it’s all there, and there would be a lot more only if you'd let him

casually mentions you to his students like you're already dating 

hates when other people flirt with you, smiles sweetly, but you can feel the dark energy radiating off him 

sends you random memes at 3 AM 

pokes your cheeks just to annoy you—and then laughs like a kid when you get flustered

no matter what happens, he can't stay mad at you. ever. you could stab him and he would say you're cute

compliments you constantly, your outfit, laugh, intelligence, body, perfumes (everything is fair game)

always leaning in too close, when you talk he lowers his head like he needs to hear every word from your lips very clearly

fantasies openly about your future together (true master of manifestation) 

lingers in the doorway after walking you home. you're saying your goodbyes, and he's just standing there, watching you with a soft smile. "if you asked, I'd stay" and believe me, it's hard to say no to this (and i feel that Gojo knows that too haaa...)

when you finally show signs of liking him back, he melts. really. he becomes softer, quieter somehow... at least for a one full minute before coming back to flirting with you shamelessly (some things never change)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about jjk ♡here♡

[jmliebert]

☆ Gale x shy virgin ☆

It weighed on you like a stone bound to your chest — heavy, unmoving, persistent.

Every nightfall brought darkness over the camp, and with it, quiet moments just for you and Gale. You should have felt safe, at ease. But instead, nerves twisted inside you like tangled thread. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy his company — far from it. You liked him. Very much. And it was clear he liked you too. Painfully obvious, as Astarion would so eloquently tease.

Maybe he was right.

You noticed Gale’s soft, lingering glances when he thought you wouldn’t see. The subtle ways he tried to make you comfortable — the reassuring touches, the gentle smiles, his voice like silk whenever he spoke your name. He was doing everything right, really. You did feel safe. Almost.

He knew you were shy. It wasn’t hard to notice. You could be fierce and commanding in battle, but as soon as it was just the two of you, you retreated into yourself like a hermit into its shell. The bravery you showed on the battlefield melting the moment his hand grazed the small of your back, or (even better) when your kisses deepened and his fingers slid into your hair, trying to get better access to your delicate neck — especially since Astarion had left his mark there. Gale hated how that stirred something primal in him. A ridiculous urge to compete. He liked to think he was above such things, but when it came to you… he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

And the nights you spent under the dim glow of magic light inside his tent? Thinking clearly became a battle in itself.

You’d be flushed, breath quickening, eyes wide. And gods, how he wanted to give you pleasure — to worship you like the stars themselves — but each time, you hesitated. Your touch would falter. Uncertainty flickered in your gaze. So he would stop. Always. He’d smile softly, sometimes even apologetically, and retreat to safer ground: gentle kisses, warm embraces, soft-spoken promises that asked for nothing in return.

And that was enough. Truly. He would wait — as long as you needed.

He figured maybe you were the kind to wait — and he understood that more than you knew. He was the same. He thrived on slow affection, the art of subtlety — glances with layered meaning, long conversations, a connection built over time. It was courting, really.

And for him, it was sacred.

But time... time was slipping. The storm clouds were closing in, and the promise of his own destruction loomed nearer with every heartbeat. He would wait, yes — but a quiet fear gnawed at him: would he even survive until the next nightfall?

That thought clawed at his chest like a curse.

So when you finally made the first move, when you came to him — hand on his chest, lips finding his — he was stunned. Overjoyed. And maybe trying a little too hard to seem composed. The kiss deepened, your lips warm and demanding, and Gale had to suppress the quiet sound rising in his throat. He felt it spiraling, spinning out of control. You gasped against his mouth, and a shiver of pure pleasure ran down his spine. His hands slid down to your thighs, fingers moving with reverence— and then you pushed him away.

Not harshly, just… enough. Enough to make everything stop.

You didn’t mean to. It had all gotten away from you too fast. The thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning, loud and intrusive, like flies that refused to leave spoiled fruit. You hadn’t even thought before you acted like this.

And his face… it said everything. Lust. Hurt. Confusion. But also patience. Always that quiet, damn patience.

His hand still rested on your thigh. It wasn’t helping.

Gale was so good to you. He never crossed a line, never took more than you gave. And because of that, he handed you something so rare — control. He let you set the pace. Let you open your heart in your own time.

And that night, when you had finally let him in — only to panic like a frightened child — you felt the sting of shame.

After a long, silent pause, Gale’s voice broke the quiet like a breath of wind.

“Forgive me… I got ahead of myself.”

“No!” you blurted, too quickly, too loud.

He blinked.

You softened your voice. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

And you meant it.

Gale sat beside you, his face still flushed, breath slightly uneven, though he tried to mask it with calm. His brows drew together, concern flickering behind his warm eyes.

“Was it… something I did? Or…” His voice trailed off. “Is this about Astarion?”

You turned to him, a little too fast. “No. Gods, no. It’s not that. It’s not him.” You paused, swallowing. “It’s me.”

Gale blinked, his gaze sharpening. “Then what is it?”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You could feel your palms growing damp.

“I’ve never…” The words stuck in your throat, but you forced them out. “I’ve never been with anyone before. Not like… that.”

For a moment, Gale was completely still. His eyes widened just slightly — not in disgust, not in judgment, but something closer to surprise. And then... nothing. No mocking smile, no teasing lilt. It was the first time when Gale was in loss of words.

Just silence.

You looked down, embarrassed heat crawling up your neck. “Obviously. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

That snapped him out of it.

“No—no, wait,” he said quickly, hands rising in that expressive, theatrical way of his. “Don’t say it like that. As if it’s something shameful.”

You didn’t look at him. “It kind of feels like it.”

Gale let out a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened. “You think I care that you haven’t… what? Had a tryst in some smoky tavern corner? That it makes you less desirable? Less capable of being loved?” He shook his head gently. “No, it does not.”

You glanced at him, half-expecting a trace of condescension, but there was none. Just genuine warmth, tinged with a tenderness that made your stomach twist.

“You seemed surprised,” you murmured.

“Well, I was,” he admitted, sheepish now. One hand lifted to scratch the back of his neck. “Not because I think any less of you — heavens, no — I just... never knew.”

You let out a dry little laugh. “It’s not something I bring up around the campfire.”

Gale’s expression softened even more. “No, I suppose not. But thank you for telling me. That kind of truth… it’s not a small gift.”

You didn’t answer right away. The vulnerability of it sat raw on your skin, and yet… his reaction, his gentle steadiness, made it feel a little less sharp.

“I wanted to,” you said finally. “Tell you. I just… didn’t know how.”

“You just did,” he replied, voice low, eyes never leaving yours. His fingers brushed your cheek, light as a whisper. His thumb traced your jaw with reverence, not urgency. Everything about him was warm and patient and devastatingly tender. That made something inside you heat up. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “Not your story. Not your body. But if you want this—” his eyes darkened with something deeper, heavier “—I would treat your first time like a blessing. Not a conquest.”

Your breath caught. The world felt suddenly quieter. More focused. The only thing that existed in that moment was him — the weight of his gaze, the promise in his voice.

“I want this,” you whispered. “I just… I’m scared.”

He smiled, and it made your chest ache.

“So am I.”

You blinked. “You are?”

He laughed under his breath. “Terrified."

That made you laugh, and something inside you cracked open just a little more. He leaned in then, slowly, giving you every chance to change your mind. But you didn’t.

Your lips met his, soft at first, cautious. He tasted like magic and warmth, like safety. And when the kiss deepened, when you let your fingers curl in the fabric of his tunic and pressed in closer, the warmth in his touch turned into something else — reverent, yearning.

His hand found your thigh again, but this time you didn’t flinch. His fingers were slow, deliberate, waiting.

And this time, you didn’t stop him. His kiss deepened with a kind of restraint that made it all the more powerful — like he was holding himself back for your sake, not his. As if every touch was asking a silent question: Is this still okay? Are you sure?

And gods, you were.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(do I need to add that after that night you would tease Gale relentlessly about his Astarion talk? hihi)

so, mother is back at last :') I dedicate this little short-story to @astarioffsimpmain and @bite-me-tonight because they inspired me to write it, thanks <3

you can find more of my works about gale ♡here♡

[jmliebert]

[A white fortune cookie paper with black text reading: Your fondest dream will come true within this year.]

[jmliebert]

adore it

Late Night Thoughts wt. Lenore

This one is dedicated to @bite-me-tonight and @jmliebert and based on @jmliebert 's "shy virgin" headcanons with Halsin and Astarion.

Hope I do it justice, you two. 🤭

🔞 Suggestive 🔞

♡

You hadn't told him. You meant to, you truly did, but it just didn't feel like the right time. 'How could it not be the right time, you fool?' You thought to yourself. 'You're in a relationship now! He's expressed how horny he is for you - and God, is that ever hot.' You felt your face heat up. It traveled nearly the full length of your torso before you reigned yourself back in. You had to tell him. Soon.

---

"At least you've opted for cocoa at 2 in the morning instead of coffee," he quipped playfully when you handed him his tea.

"You know coffee puts me to sleep," you pouted, and he laughed.

"Not before honing your focus on what alpacas smell like for an hour."

"The alpacas was one time!" You cackled.

"Yes, and the other times were...?" He trailed off, his eyes gleaming in the dark kitchen as he eyed you over his mug.

"Well, mostly you," you teased.

"Mmm, your uninhibited focus on me for a whole hour," Gale mused, setting his mug aside. "That sounds wholly delightful."

You knew that look. His eyes had narrowed, his left eyebrow had cocked up, and a dangerous smirk played on his beautiful lips. He stood from his chair and eliminated the space between you in seconds. His arms trapped you in the corner of the counter, and your mug was plucked gently from your fingertips before being set aside.

When he leaned in and nuzzled your neck, heat exploded within you. You had no idea how to react, but it felt so good; he felt so good. His hot breath puffed against your neck in between the trailing kisses that his lips pressed into every groove and curve, and your mind fogged over in a giddy delirium. It was when his palms snuck under your sweater to press into your sides that words found you — in the most blunt way possible.

"I'm a virgin!"

Your own eyes went wide at the admission; wider than Gale's. 'Wow, way to be smooth.' "I- well, I meant to tell you earlier, I just hadn't really... figured out how yet. I mean, I suppose you had deduced that already since you know I've never had a boyfriend or partner before, but I wasn't sure whether you'd gone so far as to assume - correctly, of course - that I'd never been with anyone sexually either, so- mmph!"

He pressed his lips to your own so suddenly that you yelped into his mouth, but you relaxed as he tugged your bottom lip between his, and you couldn't help but let out a little moan. He pulled back ever so slightly. "My love," he murmured against your mouth. "Would you like to wait?"

"No!" You exclaimed quickly, almost cutting him off. "No, I just.. it's new for me. I wanted to make sure you were alright with that. I know not everyone is.. I would also like to maybe, possibly, take it a little slow? Just so I can get used to all the sensations. I have orgasmed before!" You shut your mouth immediately and dropped your head on his shoulder. 'Smooth, round two.'

Gale chuckled gently and lifted your chin with his thumb. "No need to be ashamed. Speak plainly all you like, little love."

You knew your cheeks looked broiled by this point. They had to. "I've pleasured myself plenty of times before," you said, more slowly. "I've just never had anyone else pleasure me."

"And you're granting me this honor?" He asked. The question was not teasing. It was not sarcastic. He looked reverent. His eyes glistened, and his mouth sat slightly open in awe.

"I'm not sure it's an honor, but..."

"It is," he assured you, tugging you closer.

"I want it to be you, Gale," you whispered, his lips now only centimeters from yours once more.

He groaned in approval and captured your lips in a kiss, much deeper than the last, while his hands found the waistband of your pants. He paused and pulled back, seeking approval. When you nodded, he grinned like a cat who got the cream and tugged your pants down from your legs, falling to his knees with them. His fingertips skated up your legs and toyed with the elastic of your panties, sending chills up through you. You whimpered, the sound turning into a pleased sigh.

"So, my love..." he murmured softly, pressing tender kisses on each leg. "Tongue or fingers?"

~

[jmliebert]

how your lover would grieve you (bg3 headcanons)

watch out for angst!! and dramatics...

Wyll

Wyll would carry on with his duties—his body present, but his spirit often elsewhere. His heart would drift to you, again and again. Those around him would notice the change: no more smiles that reached his eyes, no more easy laughter or graceful charm. He’d move through life like a man lost in a dream.

For a time, he’d endure quietly. But gradually, he’d begin to live again—not because the grief lessened quickly, but because he knew you would have wanted that for him. He still had good to do, people to protect. And while you remained in his heart, the pain would soften.

Eventually, he might find love again. Wyll has so much tenderness to give, and he would treat any new partner with gentle reverence. But it wouldn’t be easy at first. The halls around him would feel quieter—heavier. Even the household staff might whisper behind closed doors that he was never quite the same after you passed. For a long time, his charm would seem more like a mask than a truth. Still, slowly, he would begin to let someone in.

Yet, unknowingly, he would see them through the echo of you. And if he were ever blessed with a child, he’d speak of you with a distant, wistful smile—a thousand-yard stare—and tell them stories of your courage and brilliance.

Gale

Grief would hollow Gale from the inside out. At first, it would be chaos. He would retreat into his "tower", his haven turning into a prison. He'd lie in bed for days, unshaven and unkempt—looking as though he had aged a decade in mere days. His books untouched. The most damning sign of his despair? He couldn’t even read. He’d turn pages, but the words would blur, his mind drifting endlessly back to you.

If not for his friends—and for Tara with her relentlessness at the top of it—he might have faded entirely. They would force him into the sunlight, into purpose. Teaching, advising, creating… none of it would feel the same. But still, it would keep him from crumbling. So he came back to teaching, but sadly lost his spark when it came to it.

He would likely never remarry, never truly seek another. Instead, he'd write—a book of poems in your memory, quietly tucked onto his shelves, never published. At night, he might speak to the silence as if you were beside him. Sometimes he’d conjure your likeness—not as a ghost, but as a remembrance. A comfort.

Halsin

Surprisingly, Halsin’s once vibrant appetites would vanish. For a time, there would be no lovers, no flirtation—only quiet reflection and the relentless trainings till his muscles trembled and he was out of breath. He would throw himself into his work, perhaps to cope, perhaps to forget. He would blame himself for not coming to you sooner. For not cherishing you more when time still allowed.

In time, he would come to accept your death. He would understand it as a part of the natural order—something he has preached so often. But this knowledge has a bitter taste. When you live as long as he does, saying goodbye starts to feel like the price of love. And it feels so lonely.

Eventually, he would return to his open way of life—but it would never be the same. You would linger in his thoughts, in his stories, and he’d find himself telling lovers about you. Not to compare, but because forgetting you is simply not possible. You were one of a kind, and he knew he would never find someone alike. And the realisation left his hear feeling even more heavy.

Even years later, he would still see you in the rustle of leaves, in the bloom of a flower, in the golden light of dusk. And each time, his heart would ache—but he would smile too. Because in the beauty of the world, he finds you yet again.

Astarion

To say your death devastated Astarion would be an understatement so cruel, it would feel like mockery. He would retreat from the world entirely, isolating himself with a bitterness that only grief could sharpen. He always knew world is shit, but you gave him hope and then and then he lost you just like that.

He wouldn't become like Cazador—never that. But his charm would fade into something colder, and his presence would carry a quiet warning: stay away. There would be rage, too. Shattered objects. Screams into the void. One moment, he would curse you for leaving; the next, he would sob your name and whisper that he loved you more than anything in the world.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hello, you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

also, would you like me to write one of this characters in-depth?

[jmliebert]

♡ When Sebastian Sallow is Your Academic Rival ♡

You’re both gifted. Ambitious. Sharp-tongued, sharp-minded. In theory, Sebastian should admire that—respect it, even. After all, his circle is full of people like that. Anne. Ominis. Himself.

But with you, it’s different. Something about your brilliance grates on his nerves. The way you always have an answer ready. The way you breeze through lessons like you were born to outshine everyone else. It’s infuriating.

He watches you with furrowed brows in class, arms crossed, jaw tight. When you laugh at something a professor says, it physically pains him not to roll his eyes. He almost smiles with you once—but catches himself just in time.

It’s not that he wants to see you fail. Not really. It’s more that… every time you get house points (even if you are both in Slytherin), or say something clever, or challenge him with that knowing smirk(ugh!)—it makes his blood heat in the most frustrating way.

He argues with you constantly. Even when your point is solid—especially when your point is solid. He knows you’re right. He just can’t let you have the last word. There’s something he has to prove, and he’s not even sure to whom. You? Himself?

One time he snapped his quill in half just listening to you speak in class. “What’s wrong with you?” Ominis asked. “Nothing,” Sebastian muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at the inky mess.

You once called a sentence in his Transmutation essay “a bit weak.” He rewrote the whole thing that night. The whole damn thing.

He fixes his hair every time he passes you in the corridor. Doesn’t even think about it—it just happens.

He always wants to know where you’re going, who you're talking to. Not because he cares, of course. Just for strategy. Just… to be aware. So he scans the Great Hall for your silhouette every morning, watch your interactions with other students closely. Checks the titles of books you are currently reading, (reads them too, more often than not.)

Leander flirted with you once during a Crossed Wands match (or at least it looked like it, Leander surely looked tad too friendly to his tastes). Sebastian accidentally hexed him five minutes later. (oops.)

When you’re in the library, he always picks a seat that lets him see you. Just to keep an eye on you. Enemies must be in the plain eyesight, after all. But… enemy?

That word starts to feel less and less accurate every time he sees you.

The day you beat him in a duel again, you walked up and offered your hand to help him off the floor. He refused, stood on his own, and vanished into the shadows, hoping you didn’t notice how bright red his face was.

He talks about you so much that Anne and Ominis have grown completely sick of it. “Look,” Ominis finally snaps one evening, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Can’t you just ask them out already?”

Sebastian nearly trips over his own feet. “Wh-what?! Are you mad?” he stammers, stumbling backward like Ominis had just hexed him.

That night, he can’t sleep.

Because Ominis might be right. He’s been more lively since this strange... rivalry began. You challenge him. You make him sharper. You push him harder. It’s thrilling. Maddening.

He likes it. 

He likes the way your eyes light up when you speak passionately. The way you make him work for every inch of ground. The way your laugh lingers in the air like magic itself.

And the way you sit—so casually poised, legs tucked just so, robes slightly rumpled…

Also, there’s always that little glint in your eye—like you know something he doesn’t. It drives him insane.

He tells himself it’s just the competition. It’s not your smile. Not your ink-stained fingers tapping your cheek while you think.

Definitely not the way he always seems to find you in a room without even trying. He’s not looking. He’s definitely not looking. ...Or maybe he is, with his heart beating tad too much :)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 hi, you can find more of my works about sebastian ♡here♡

also,

you can keep the headcanons engine burning low and slow ♡here♡

thanks xx

[jmliebert]

Nanami as Your Husband

smells like expensive cologne and something warm, you melt into that scent when he hugs you. oh so good to be home

he doesn't say "I love you" all the time— but when he does, it hits you like a train. because he means it

rarely brings you up, because he’s rather private, but if someone asks, his whole demeanour shifts. a ghost of a smile, softened jaw

it goes without telling, but he remembers every anniversary. his gifts are thoughtful, but never flashy, always personal 

quickly notices when your ring’s off. subtly runs his thumb across your bare finger. not in anger—just quiet acknowledgment, with his brows slightly raised

gives you flowers just because. no note, no fanfare. just a bouquet left on the table in the morning light because he saw them and thought, you’ll love these

even more possessive than before marriage, like something in his brain flipped once the title “husband” was real

and it goes to sex as well. it's different now, he’s more attuned, more primal even—but not in a careless way. it’s about being close to you in the most visceral, human way

finds comfort in the simple rituals you’ve built together

your photo is the only one in his leather wallet, aged and a little frayed, but still utterly perfect 

sometimes kisses your hand absentmindedly while you’re talking, like it’s the most natural thing in the world

always (and I mean always) will come back home to your loving arms 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 you can find more of my works about nanami ♡here♡

also,

you can keep the headcanons engine burning low and slow ♡here♡

thanks xx

[jmliebert]

☆ Gale as Your Husband ☆

completely, utterly, and blissfuly under your thumb (and he wouldn’t have it any other way)   

not a soul will ever hear him utter a bad word about you

every single one of his students know about you. not by accident— Gale will find a way to work you into any anecdote, and always manages to speak about you in such a sweet manner 

sobbed when he saw you at the aisle 

remembers every anniversary 

call him your husband, even in a jest, and see what happens (it absolutely gets him. every.single.time)

will tell his friends he can’t make it because he “promised to spend time with his beloved” even if you never actually said so

when he’s out shopping (though not very often because he always wants to go with you), he’s always thinking of you. spices for your fav dish, book you might enjoy, a trinket he thought you would like…he jus’t can’t help himself

does everything you ask, no questions. if it makes you happy, he’s already on it

“where’s this? where’s that?" the number of times he’s misplaced things has you genuinely questioning how he survived before you

and when you find it, he will be like “oh, what would I done without my wife/husband” and kiss you senselessly 

if you argue, he’ll quietly take the sofa for the night when needed (though he would feel very lonely…) 

his students secretly poke fun at the way his cheeks flush whenever you surprise him at work with food or just to say hello (maybe because of that heated make-out sessions you do in his study after if time is kind) 

when it comes to your home, you’re the one in charge. want to redecorate? change something? by all means—he’d even live with the ugliest piece of furniture if it meant making you happy

because he really is all about making his other half happy :’) 

well, I think it's rather obvious but let me say it. Gale was made for marriage. he thrives in a partnership built on mutual support, on lifting each other up, on sweet talks, and kinky sex here and there

also a malewife 

even  after all these years, he still looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. romantic love, yes— but more than that you are his best friend as well, someone who cares, someone who won’t cast him aside and a truly beautiful and courageous soul

the thought of growing old with you isn’t daunting—it’s something he longs for actually 

his best time? the slow, quiet evenings with you of course (let these moments be eternal, he wishes)

overall, a proud and loving husband through and through

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hello! what would you add to that?

also! you can find more of my works about gale ♡here♡

[jmliebert]

I absolutely love how you write Halsin! If you ever feel inclined to, would love to see your take on Tav finding and giving him honey and seeing his sweet, heartfelt, and emotional reaction to such a kind gesture.

I love the idea, but I would like to spice it up a little if you don't mind...

For a moment, Halsin simply stares, his breath catching as you place the small jar of honey in his hands. His fingers brush yours, and though the touch is fleeting, it lingers in his mind.

Such a simple thing—a gift given freely, just because Halsin once mentioned his fondness for it. And that was enough. It stirs something deep within him, something tender and aching. You, standing before him, offering him sweetness with a quiet, uncertain smile—feels profound. His chest tightens, and for a brief, unguarded moment, he is not the strong, unwavering druid, but simply a man touched by the care of another.

His lips part, but words fail him. Instead, he swallows, his fingers curling around the jar. "You thought of me," he finally murmurs, almost to himself, the depth of his gratitude reflected in his golden eyes.

And then, hunger flickers beneath the surface. It has been ages since he last tasted honey, and now that it’s in his hands, warmth pools low in his stomach, a primal sort of need awakening. He looks at you, a slow smile curving his lips.

"Then we must share it, of course. Something this sweet should never be enjoyed alone."

But when he eats, he doesn’t just eat—he devours.

Thick, golden honey drips from his fingers as he takes generous tastes, his throat bobbing with every swallow. He sighs, eyes half-lidded in pleasure, as if savouring something far more indulgent than just a simple treat. And you—gods—you find yourself staring. Watching the way his Adam’s apple moves, the way his lips glisten with the sticky sweetness, the way his broad hands handle something so delicate yet make it look so sinfully good.

You don’t eat quite like him, of course—far more reserved, less ravenous—but still, your fingers are left sticky with sweetness. Halsin notices. Of course he notices.

Before you can even react, his large, warm hand gently takes yours. And then, without breaking eye contact, he brings your fingers to his lips.

One by one, he takes them into his mouth, licking them clean, his tongue dragging slow and deliberate over each fingertip. His gaze never wavers, deep and smouldering, watching your every reaction, reading every flicker of emotion across your face.

"Can’t let it go to waste," he murmurs, voice low, husky, as if honey isn’t the only thing he craves...

And suddenly, the air between you is thick—as thick as the honey still lingering on his lips.

[jmliebert]

♡ Halsin Being Love Smitten by an Oblivious Tav ♡

Oh, this is a good one. Halsin — strong, confident, experienced — brought to his knees by one thing he never saw coming: your sheer, unrelenting obliviousness. It’s hard to make him baffled, but you did. You actually made him baffled. Incredible. 

He’s lived for over three centuries. Seen countless wonders, taken many lovers, and faced horrors that would break lesser souls. Nothing has caught him off guard for the longest time it would seem. And yet you have. Because somehow, despite his very clear interest, his smoothest moves, and his voice dropping into that deep purr — you simply don’t get it. Not one bit. 

And by Oak Father, it really do baffles him. 

You see, he feels it every time you walk by — a rush of warmth in his chest, the unshakable need to be near you. He listens to your every word, even your stillest ramblings, with rapt attention, laughing easily and freely in a way he hasn’t in years. It feels good to be close to you. It feels right. And he’s wise enough to know exactly what that means. He is, without doubt, utterly and completely love smitten with you… and Halsin is many things, but shy is not one of them. So naturally — he courts you. 

At first, subtly, slowly… intending to take full pleasure from getting to know you better in that kind of way. A lingering touch here, a playful tease there, a deep-chested chuckle whenever you say something endearing. Surely you’ll catch on. 

You do not. 

You smile at him. You laugh, you listen, you seem happy to be around him. But not once — not once! — you show any sign of realising that he likes you more than a friend. (oh, so much more)

Is he being too subtle? Surely not. Halsin is experienced. He’s seen things. He’s been with partners who could read his desires from a single glance, and here he is — flexing like a fool whenever you so much as glance in his direction, hoping you’ll notice. 

And Oak Father help him, he’s trying so hard. It’s like he isn’t himself anymore. He feels like a young pup wandering into unknown territory. 

So… he finds excuses to touch you. Offers a steadying hand when crossing a stream (as if you’re not perfectly capable), lets his large hands linger on your waist a fraction too long when lifting you over an obstacle. Getting all worked up from the mere brush of your knees. 

One day Halsin brings you fruit he’s foraged with a casual,

"If you desire more, I am always at your service.”

"You really do take good care of everyone," you say, eyes shining with pure, unshaken obliviousness. The words he wants to say—I would much rather focus my care on you specifically—catch in his throat, swallowed down by a sigh. Somehow, faced with your innocence, he just can’t bring himself to say it.

Has he lost his touch? Is he truly so out of practice? He has never worked this hard to make his feelings known. And worse—he’s starting to feel things he hasn’t in years. Frustration, longing, an almost feral urge to just grab you by the shoulders and tell you outright.

By the gods, he is horny and in distress. And he’s been horny many times, but in distress like this? No. However… Halsin is not a man who simply gives up. Not to doubt, not to hesitation—and certainly not when it comes to you. Not when he’s waited lifetimes to feel this way again. Not when he’s finally met someone who stirs the very roots of his being.

So, no more subtlety, no more lingering touches. No more charming lines that you so sweetly misunderstand. One evening, with all the weight of a man on the brink, he levels you with a look, strong arms crossed over his chest, and says in a tone that leaves no room for interpretation:

“Tav. We need to talk. And this time, I’ll make sure you understand exactly what I mean.”

Because by the Oak Father, if you don’t realise how desperately he wants you after this conversation—he might just lose his mind.

So he takes you away—away from the crackling campfire, from the idle chatter of your companions, from the weight of the world pressing down on both of you. He leads you to a quiet, secluded glade where the trees arch overhead like ancient sentinels. The stars shimmer above, casting silver light over everything, but Halsin?

Halsin is radiant.

He stands before you, broad and strong, his golden skin illuminated by moonlight. There’s something different in the way he looks at you now—an intensity, a quiet, unshaken resolve. And then, in a voice deep as the earth itself, he speaks:

"I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine…”

Your breath stutters. Your eyes widen, because suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The lingering touches. The flirtation you had brushed off as simple kindness. The way his gaze always seemed to find you, the way his presence felt like a steady force in your current life, constant and unwavering. It was never just friendliness. It was never just admiration.

It was this.

It was him wanting you.

The weight of his words sinks into you, slow and heavy like honey pouring thick from a jar. He isn’t teasing. He isn’t jesting—Halsin is far too earnest for that. His kindness, his unwavering dedication, have only blurred the truth for you. But now, there is no mistaking it. There’s no lightheartedness in his tone—only intention. Only want.

The words roll off his tongue like a promise, rich with meaning, with want. His voice is steady, but there’s something beneath it—an unmistakable need. His hand lifts, slow, deliberate, as if he’s savouring every second before he touches you. And when he does—when his large, calloused palm finally cups your cheek—your breath catches.

His warmth is immediate, grounding, real. He’s so close now—too close, not close enough. His golden eyes search yours, darkened with something primal, something deep and unspoken. He’s looking for something—truth. An answer. A silent permission for this moment to become something more.

And gods, the air between you is alive with it. 

Will you give it to him?

That choice—that power—is yours.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

again, thanks for this lovely request

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡ hihi

[jmliebert]

Hiii, I love how you write Halsin. It has me in a chokehold.

I couldn't help but thinking about this. What about Halsin who is love smitten with an oblivious Tav?

Hi!!!

oh, it would be a delicious sight...so it got me thinking, and thinking... and if this day will be kind enough I will upload something on this matter soon. so wait for me <3

[jmliebert]

When Sebastian Sallow is Jealous ♡

Sebastian Sallow? Jealous? That’s ridiculous. Why would he be jealous? Just because you’re over there laughing with Leander Prewett like he’s suddenly the funniest person alive? No. He’s fine. He’s just watching from across the room, jaw clenched, eyes slightly crazed—but that’s only because he hates that bloke, alright?

"Your eyelid is twitching," says Ominis.

"No, it’s not." Sebastian scoffs. (It absolutely is.)

he has zero problems with you spending every waking moment with Natsai Onai. Oh, you two just happened to escape on hippogriffs under the cover of night? Wonderful! So cool! See? Look at that smile on his face. It’s only slightly strained.

and don’t even get him started on Ominis and his whole I-can-speak-to-snakes thing. "Between you two, I’m starting to feel a little left out…" he mutters, but totally not in a bitter way. Nope. Not at all.

the truth is, Sebastian is passionate—especially when it comes to you. Ever since you bested him in that duel, he’s been hooked. And while he knows it’s completely unreasonable to expect all of your attention, that doesn’t stop him from sulking in the background whenever you give it to someone else. He’ll scowl. He’ll dramatically insert himself into whatever you're doing. He’ll challenge you to unnecessary competitions just to keep your eyes on him.

But when it’s just the two of you? Oh. Oh. That’s when he shines. Banter is his love language, and every sassy comeback you throw his way only makes his grin widen. Sometimes he’ll pretend to be offended, crossing his arms like he’s truly mad. But then his lips twitch, and his eyes soften, and yeah—he’s fooling no one.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 hi, you can find more of my works about sebastian ♡here♡

[jmliebert]

woof woof

[jmliebert]

♡ Nanami in bed ♡

a little extension of what I wrote earlier. read it first, then come back here and… enjoy

Nanami is an exquisite balance of giving and taking. he’s deeply attentive, always making sure you’re satisfied first, but when he takes, he takes (!) with an intensity that leaves you shattered (in the most delicious way)

has a provider’s mindset, and obviously that extends into the bedroom. there’s a certain dominance in the way he touches you, a silent claim in every kiss, every deep thrust. possessive and protective

easily aroused, just you being yourself is enough to make him want you bad. a glance, a soft sigh, the way you stretch after waking up—it all fuels his need, and he needs you endlessly

when it comes to foreplay, oh..he takes his time, making you all nice and ready for him with touching diligence. he’ll lift you effortlessly just to kiss you deeper, hold you close like you’re something precious and it makes you feel fragile in the best way possible

loves giving head, not just as foreplay but as a way to see you unravel beneath him. watching your face hungrily from between your thighs, enjoying the way you shudder under his tongue, supersensitive after orgasm (and he still doesn’t stop, making you scream almost)

loves rough sex—deep, demanding kisses, spanking, biting—but never crosses the line. his sharp eyes are always on you, reading every expression, knowing exactly when to push and when to pull back. you trust him completely because no matter how intense it gets, there’s always a deep undercurrent of care and love

his voice is deep and smooth, laced with filth and appreciation. he’ll whisper how wet you are, how good you feel, how he could fuck you all night. he makes you feel both desired and worshiped in the same breath, and he adores how reactive you all to his little dirty talks

hard, possessive strokes paired with gentle caresses. one hand spanking you, the other cradling your face. he loves positions that let him watch you—pressed against the wall, bent over the mattress, or straddling him while he guides you with firm hands on your hips

confidence in bed, he doesn’t need to prove anything—he just knows what he’s doing. he’s not into extreme kinks or excessive toys, but he’ll have you in every possible position, in every possible place. the bed, the couch, the floor, even the kitchen counter—if he wants you, he’ll have you

also a car sex enthusiast, loves the thrill of it. his hand starts on your knee, then moves up your thigh, teasing you until one of you snaps. either you end up going down on him, or he finds a secluded spot where he can take you properly. he likes having you ride him in the driver’s seat, his mouth on your nipples, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you with a mix of control and need

can be messy in the moment, but clean afterward. he doesn’t mind the mess during sex—sweat, fluids, whatever—but afterward, he’s meticulous. he’ll clean you up himself, maybe even carry you to the shower, washing your body with slow, unhurried care. and yes, he will change the sheets before bed

plus, you’ll never be left cold, hungry, or uncomfortable when Nanami is around. he’ll drape you in his T-shirt, bring you water, make sure you’re completely taken care of. he’ll massage any sore spots, trace over any love bites, and hold you even closer that night (especially if the sex was really rough)

clingy in his own way, won’t let you sleep without touching you. the moment you settle in, he’s pulling you close, inhaling your scent, running his fingers through your hair. he murmurs something soft against your ear—maybe a compliment, maybe something teasing—but the warmth in his voice makes you melt

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hi, you can find more of my works about nanami ♡here♡

[jmliebert]

Nanami as Your Lover headcanons ♡

the word boyfriend doesn’t do him justice—it feels too light, too casual somehow as he treats you with absolute seriousness

there’s a softness he reserves only for you. whether he’s resting his head in your lap or letting you dry his hair with careful hands, these simple moments feel so intimate for him and for you

you bring him a sense of peace he didn’t know he needed. he quickly discovers that he sleeps best when you’re lying on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close, and the thought do things for him (he falls even harder)

in the morning he pulls you closer in bed, nuzzling into your neck and murmuring about how he doesn’t want to get up just yet

evenings with you have transformed his routine. suddenly, he finds time for the books that have been gathering dust on his shelf, reading while you are cuddling to his side

if there’s something you want to do, Nanami’s always up for it. face masks? horror movies? a random pottery class? whatever it is, Nanami is all in—because it makes his lady happy :’)

his sense of humor is subtle but sharp. he loves when you tease him gently, and you can always catch a faint smile tugging at his lips when you do

has a habit of brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as he looks at you with quiet adoration

cooking for you becomes one of his love languages. he takes quiet pride in preparing meals for you and feels a deep sense of contentment when you enjoy them (like it or not, but if you would let him, he would feed you gladly)

if you’re stressed or overwhelmed, he’ll instinctively take care of you—running you a bath, massaging your shoulders, or simply holding you close in silence

even more strict about keeping to his working hours—not just for the sake of principle, but so he can return to you sooner

when he has the chance, he waits outside your workplace with a bouquet of red roses in his hand, ready to walk you home or take you to dinner

on more tender nights, you’ll find him kneeling in front of you, his hands on yours, telling you in that velvety voice how much you mean to him, and how he wants you to be close to him all the time

on the surface, Nanami may appears calm and composed, unshaken as ever. but the faint flush that creeps onto his cheeks whenever you're around betrays him in the sweetest way. Gojo, naturally, can't resist saying something like this (with a overdramatic whine): "Blushing, Nanami? Should I feel jealous?"

Nanami isn’t one for public displays of affection. he tries to maintain his composure, even when you sweetness flusters him so much in public. behind the mask of calm, he’s restless, counting the minutes until he can steal you away to a private corner and kiss you hard...maybe squeeze your thigh as well...

however he’s ok with holding hands in public (honestly, it is one of his favourite things to do) plus he occasionally presses soft kisses to your palm which make you melt completely…

unshakeably confident in your relationship. If someone flirts with you, he’s calm (but might be a little bit more possessive than usual in bed that night, even though he knows it's foolish to react that way, but he can't help it)

for him, there’s no one else but you. it’s not that he has to ignore attractive people—he simply doesn’t see them when he’s with you

as composed as he is, the desire he feels for you simmers just beneath the surface. he wants you—badly—but he waits, patient and respectful, for you to be completely comfortable, although is so hard to be patient with you sometimes…

when the moment finally comes, his restraint melts away. he’ll kiss you deeply, savouring the taste of you like he’s been starving, his hips bucking uncontrollably 

he’s a generous lover, a big fan of giving head. nothing pleases him more than leaving you trembling under his touch, as his mouth explores you with relentless precision

he’ll fuck you hard but balance it with tenderness, kissing away your tears and murmuring sweet, reverent words against your heated skin

though sometimes, if the moods takes him, he’s not above whispering dirty, obscene things in your ear while he moves against you. his words sinful, describing in vivid detail how good you feel, how tight you are, and how he can’t get enough of you

adores seeing you in lingerie chosen just for him. the sight makes his gaze darken with desire as his hands and lips worship every inch of you

adores it even more to fuck you hard in it, his hands gripping your hips or ass with bruising intensity. his palm meets your skin in sharp, stinging spanks, the sound echoing alongside your moans, as his breath grows ragged, hot, and heavy against your lips. between desperate, hungry kisses, he huffs into your mouth, his voice low and gravelly, muttering just how irresistible you are and how he can’t get enough of you

afterward however, he’s attentive and caring. he cleans you up, whispers soft reassurances, and holds you close so you feel safe and adored (or dare i say loved?)

when he’s had a little too much to drink, he rests his head on your shoulder, his lips brushing against your neck as he murmurs your name over and over again...

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hi, you can find more of my works about nanami ♡here♡

also, you can give me some ideas of what else I should write about nanami please! i need some inspo

[jmliebert]

that quote about cold water feeling warm when your hands are freezing? that's exactly what im giving you when I write about tom (you guys are a bit masochistic, really)

[jmliebert]

When Nanami Has a Crush on You ♡

on the surface, Nanami appears as calm and collected as ever, but internally...he’s conflicted. somehow it's hard to maintain his self-control when you are near

though he tries to remain stoic through it all, subtle signs betray him... (if you look close enough you can see his fist clenches whenever he watches you interact with other men or when he's frustrated with what he said or did in your presence)

he doesn’t force interactions but cherishes the moments when he accidentally runs into you. those fleeting encounters brighten his day, and he silently wishes for more

notices and compliments the small details about you, each remark dripping with charm. also his soft, almost shy smile and a light scratch of his head during these moments make this even sweeter. it's surprising even for him, how he acts when he's with you (as I said his self-control fades..)

always prepared. Nanami is there with a napkin, an umbrella, or just the right amount of time to spare. he’s happy to share breakfast with you, insisting on paying—not out of any outdated notion, but simply because it’s you, and he wants to do something kind

and when he sees you enjoying a simple sandwich, he catches himself wishing he could feed you himself, loosening his tie slightly as he tries to shake the thought away (oh!)

when you compliment his suit, his eyes widen slightly, but he quickly masks it with a smooth, “oh, you think so?” you might not realise the impact, but he’ll wear that suit more often

his small, seemingly innocent touches send shivers down your spine. at first, he’s observant and reserved, trying to process his feelings and it takes some time, but as he becomes more certain, his confidence grows, and he begins to act more directly

eventually, he’ll invite you to dinner at a place that’s both elegant and cozy. he arrives to with a bouquet of red roses, complimenting your beauty with heartfelt sincerity. you are so luminous and full of grace, he could stare at you for hours, and he would do it gladly

at dinner, he’s the perfect gentleman—offering champagne, helping with your seat and coat. his eyes never leave yours, brows raised slightly with every word you speak, soaking in your every word

conversation flows effortlessly. you talk about everything—hypothetical scenarios, life, dreams, philosophy and literature—and while Nanami enjoys the discourse, he can’t help but steer it back to you. he wants to know you deeply, genuinely

as the night goes on, he finds himself unexpectedly moved by how easy it is to be with you. he can’t remember the last time he felt so at peace, so effortlessly himself

as he walks you home, your sweet smile and sparkling eyes full of life completely undo him. he hadn’t planned this—he was in it for the long game—but you, standing there like this, make it impossible to resist. gently, he cups your chin and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. when you respond, his long-restrained passion breaks free. his kisses grow deeper, more urgent, as his hands pull you closer. a single strand of his hair falls across his forehead as your breaths mingle, the space between you almost nonexistent. the air feels charged, every shared breath heavy with anticipation

but he pulls away, knowing it’s the right thing to do, even though it feels impossible to watch you walk away, heading to your flat alone (he watches you until he sees the light in your window flicker on)

somehow the thought of you being there all alone...at night...without no living soul to talk to does things to him. the desire to care for you, be there for you, to provide for you never was so prominent, so strong and going home alone was never so hard for Nanami

that night, he’s too overwhelmed to sleep. at 4 AM, he sends you a message, unable to hold back, and waits anxiously for your response, even knowing it’s a little over the top

and now he can't help his chest tightening at the mere thought of you...it feels so good, as if the fog has finally lifted, but at the same time it feels scary, he might like you a tad to much, it's getting out of control (which is good hihi)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

oh, i wanted to write it so bad!!

 you can find more of my works ♡here♡