Sometimes, the weight of courtly expectations feels like a corset laced too tight—constricting, suffocating. But then, there are moments when I slip away to the arcane library, lost in the scent of old tomes and the thrill of forbidden knowledge. And then... there are other thrills. The way my fingers trace the spines of books, imagining them as the ridges of a lover's cock. The way my breath hitches when I think of you, your hands replacing the pages I clutch so tightly. Oh, how I ache to be your study partner, to let you enchant me in ways no spellbook ever could. But for now, the candles burn low, and my thoughts grow bolder than my actions... yet.

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