#otome guys

[chevlvrs]

The pic with his arms crossed & the one in the city LORDDD

[lichtluv]

╔══ஓ๑☾๑ஓ══╗

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬,

𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬...

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞,

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐞...

𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬.

╚══ஓ๑☽๑ஓ══╝

↝ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍ ʀᴇx ᴍᴏᴏᴅʙᴏᴀʀᴅ.

[danyxhz]

Ren fanart from 14 days with you

I really like how Ren turned out. I’m getting better and better. This novel inspired me a lot.

I don’t know it its a good idea to start my own novel tho. I’m too broke. Would you like it if I tried?

Reply if you see this :’). I’d really appreciate it. Also repost pls.

[ikeromantic]

Ikesen Boys React to a Tattooed MC pt 2

Thank you again to @otomedad for this idea!

Kenshin, Shingen, and Yoshimoto. Approx. 2400 words. Part 1 here!

Kenshin

Kenshin froze mid-step, his mismatched eyes going wide. You froze too, a shout of surprise caught behind your lips. Your kimono hung open, half undressed as you prepared for a bath.

The tub of steaming water sat behind a decorative screen, and you were wishing you were behind it too. “Umm. Hi?” You tug the fabric closed, your face hot. 

He swallows, and turns his head to look down the empty corridor leading to your ‘room’. “You were not expecting me. I will go.”

“No, wait!” Your voice startles you as much as him. Kenshin turns his head to glance your direction expectantly. You pause, unsure what to say. “I was hoping you would come today.” 

If anything, this seems to surprise him even more than seeing you unclothed. 

“If you like, you can wait with me for the bathwater to cool down. It’s too hot to soak in right now.” You sit down on the small stool beside the bars of your well-appointed cell. 

Kenshin says nothing for a long moment, then he nods. There is something unsettled about him as he pulls up a stool to sit across from you. “Is there anything you need?”

You shrug, glancing around at the stone walls and wooden bars. “Out? Other than that, no.”

He looks down, his lips twisting in a faint grimace. The frown turns to puzzlement. “What is that?”

You realize he’s noticed the cherry blossom petal on the top of your bare foot. “Oh. It’s part of my tattoo.” You carefully shift your kimono open a little bit to show the rest of your leg. Cherry blossoms and pink petals dance across your skin, as if floating on a forever breeze in some place where it is always spring. 

Kenshin regards the ink with more curiosity than you expected. His hand drifts toward the bars that separate you. “Beautiful,” he breathes. 

Your skin prickles and warms with expectation of his touch. The tip of his cool, calloused finger brushes your calf, setting your heart off at a gallop. You aren’t sure if the butterflies in your belly are from the compliment or the feel of his hand on your leg. 

“It does not come off,” he states, rather than asks. 

“Right. It’s ink under my skin so . . . I guess I’m stuck with it for life.” You try for a carefree smile, but miss the mark as his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

Kenshin considers this for a moment, then nods. “It is like a scar, then.” His eyes narrow. “Why was this done to you?”

You do smile then, at the protective note in his voice. “I did it to me. Or, at least, I picked the design and the spot. I wanted something to remind me that life is short. To enjoy the beauty in it, as long as it lasts. Because, you know. It won’t last long.” 

His fingers trace the edges of the petals and blossoms, moving up past your knee to the top of the flowers on your thigh. “The inevitability of loss,” he says, more to himself than to you. There is something warm in his eyes, something fragile.

“No,” you shake your head. “The celebration of beauty, however fleeting. Take joy where you can, right?” 

“Take joy . . .” His gaze falls back to your leg, and he snatches his hand away as if suddenly scalded by your skin. Shutters of ice close him off from you again as he stands. 

You stand as well, reaching for him through the cell bars. Your fingers brush his shoulder before he steps back. 

“If there is nothing you need, I will go.”

“I do need something.” Your voice shakes a little as your hand drops to your side. “I wish you’d visit me more often. Stay for a little longer when you do. I like being around you.”

Kenshin does not reply. He studies you for a moment, before turning away. His steps echo down the empty corridor, making you feel somehow even more alone than before he came. 

Shingen

Shingen’s hand trailed along the smooth silk of your kimono, the warmth of his touch soaking through to your back. He wasn’t technically supposed to be touching you, just watching the stars. But he had a hard time keeping his hands to himself, and you weren’t going to complain. Not tonight, anyway.

“Are you sore, angel,” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“No,” you shot back, then admitted, “a little.” The day’s hike through mountainous forest hadn’t been easy, especially carrying a pack. You regretted insisting on carrying it, but pride wouldn’t let you take it easy. 

Shingen’s lips curled up in a subtle smile. “I see.” His hand stilled on your back. “You know what the best thing for sore muscles is?”

You turn your head to regard him, sensing a trap. “A hot bath?”

“Those are pretty good. But love is what makes the angel sing.” He grins at you, playful and teasing.

“Seriously, Shingen?” You huff and pull away from his touch.

He sighs. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. It’s not every day an actual goddess graces me with her presence.” 

You glare at him, annoyed and flattered and annoyed with yourself for being flattered. “Whatever. I’m going inside.”

“Don’t leave, angel.” There’s a slight pleading tone to his voice. “As an apology, let me give you a shoulder rub. It will make us both feel better. I promise.” The sensual tilt of his lips and the appeal in his gaze give you pause. A massage would feel nice, but . . .

“No. I don’t trust you.” The words leave your mouth in a rushed exhalation, leaving so much unsaid. It wasn’t Shingen you didn’t trust, it was yourself. 

He looked down, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim starlight. “I promise, I’m not trying to make you mine.” Shingen held his hands out as if in surrender. “Let me help?”

The silence between you expands, an almost physical thing pressing against your skin and making it hard to breathe. You give a curt nod, giving in to what you know you want, even if you can’t admit it. 

Shingen settles behind you. His hands slide down your shoulders, gently tugging your kimono down to bare them. His breath catches and he goes still. 

For a moment, you are confused, and then you realize he must have seen it. Your tattoo. Maple leaves drifting along your spine, from just below your neck to your hip. A riot of warm colors and fine lines etching your skin. You still remember the pain of having it done. But it was worth it. “Something wrong?” You try for a teasing tone, but your voice is too breathy to make that mark.

 “Your back -” He pulls your kimono lower still, revealing more of the falling leaves. His calloused hand presses against the ink as if to wipe it away. “My angel is a work of art.”

A shiver runs through your skin at the feel of his hand on you. Your galloping heart speeds even more, racing uncontrollably as heat flushes your face. “You’re not supposed to be flirting,” you manage.

Shingen’s laugh sends a puff of warm breath across your neck. “That wasn’t flirting. I’m only stating the obvious.” His thumbs press into your tense, tired flesh, a gentle pressure to ease sore muscles. “Is the art something from your village? I have never seen anything like it painted into skin.”

You struggle for a moment to find words, distracted by his closeness and the intimacy of his touch. He clearly knows how to give a massage, and the sensation is short circuiting your brain. “Umm. It . . . mmmm . . . I got it to remind myself.”

“Of?” His lips are distressingly close to the leaf at the top of your spine, almost brushing the inked skin.

“Th-that I am carried. Forward. Even when life is tough. Like a leaf in the wind. Do what I can and leave what I can’t to fate. Or god. Or . . . chaos, I guess. Trust that life is - is pushing me to where I need to be.” You stutter through an explanation, leaving out all the context and emotion surrounding the decision on this image in this spot in those colors.

Shingen is quiet for a while, his skilled hands working out the knots in your shoulders and upper back. “My angel is a philosopher. Something holding us up in our worst moments.” He sounds more thoughtful than you expected when he finally speaks. Rather than blowing off the meaning of the design, he seems interested. 

“I needed something to hang on to,” you say softly, self-consciously. His praise feels undeserved, but makes your heart feel full, your chest tight.

“We all do, sometimes.” You feel the press of a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

Quiet descends between you again, a soft silence of connection and comfort. 

Yoshimoto

You sit completely still, afraid to even breathe deeply. Yoshimoto’s fingers comb gently through your hair, coaxing it into position. He hums a tune you almost recognize as he works, styling you for the artists that will arrive soon. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I bet there are a lot of more qualified models in Kasugayama,” you say through stiff lips. This whole idea has you on edge. Art is wonderful, and you love making it - but being in it? Not so much. 

Yoshimoto adjusts your necklace. “You are perfect. There is none more qualified.” He steps back, inspecting his work. 

“I am so very not perfect,” you argue, thinking of all the parts of yourself you’d change if you could. “Surely Okuni would be better -”

“No. I want them to paint you.” The way he says it sends a thrill through you, as if he would value more your image than any other. Which can’t be true. Yoshimoto is just an appreciator of art. And you, as his friend and student, happened to be available for this painting session with some up and coming artists. 

You take a shallow breath. The next part will be the hardest, even knowing it is coming. “Fine. I guess.” The blanket in your lap seems smaller by the moment and you feel heat rising in your cheeks as you take it in one hand. 

Yoshimoto smiles and moves close again, his fingers hover at the edge of the decorative kimono draped over your shoulders. “I am honored by your trust in me.” 

“Wait!” You take a deeper breath, a panicky feeling welling up in your chest. “I can’t model. I - I have a tattoo!” You feel a sudden certainty that, just like your parents, Yoshimoto will hate the ink on your skin, and the artists will refuse to paint you, and - and -

He settles a hand on your cheek, turning your head toward him. “Thank you for telling me. May I see it?” His eyes are wide and clear, empty of judgment or censure. 

You study his face a moment longer, feeling self conscious. “Ok.”

He pulls the fabric down as you lift the blanket to your chest. Almost the pose you were meant to take for the artists.

Despite the white silk now covering your breasts, you feel exposed. Your entire back on display, bare shouldered and covered with almost nothing from the back of your neck to the top of your butt cheeks. Vulnerable. On display. You wait for Yoshimoto to say something, but he is silent. 

“Well?” Your voice is sharp and anxious, and you resist the urge to tug the fabric up and hide behind it.

Yoshimoto takes a breath. His hands brush your sides, stopping at the edges of your tattoo. Chrysanthemums spread from the center of your back to your hips, delicate and colorful. He kneels to look at them more closely, close enough that his hair tickles against your skin. 

You love the way they look, bright and playful. Accentuating the natural curves of your low back and hip. But you can’t tell what his reaction is. His quiet only wrenches your nerves tighter. “If you don’t say something, I think I’m going to cry.”

His soft touch brushes the inked flowers, as if painting the petals with his fingertips. “I . . . I did not expect . . .”

“It’s fine.” You reach for the kimono, ready to cover up and escape with a little dignity. 

Yoshimoto’s hand catches yours. “Please. Let me look a little longer. It is beautiful.” His gaze meets yours, fey eyes almost aglow. “You are beautiful.” 

Your breath catches, there is a tightness in your chest. A trembling, uncertain emotion that you cannot name. “Alright.” 

His smile is tender and affectionate as his eyes drift back to your tattoo. “These colors are amazing. I have never seen such bright irezumi. And the way it follows the shape of your body -” His caress sends a pleasant shock up your back and sets your pulse pounding. “This was done by a master artist. Only fitting for such a canvas.”

“They were really good,” you nod, recalling the waitlist and the cost. “They designed it for me after I told them what I wanted. Something with meaning, memories and promises. I wanted to look at it the rest of my life and know it holds what is close to my heart.” 

You gesture toward the flowers he is touching. “Red for the promise of love, yellow for what I’ve lost, white for loyalty. And all of it together for beauty, inside and out.” The words pour out as if from a broken dam. You’ve never told anyone all of this, never had the opportunity or the trust. But you want Yoshimoto to know you. To understand you.

“Did you know it is also a symbol of royalty?” His voice is soft, barely audible. 

“I do. Not that I am. Royal. I mean, Nobunaga made me a princess but I’m just a normal person. Nothing special.” You shrug. “I just thought it was a really pretty flower.”

Yoshimoto’s arms wrap around you, and his cheek rests against your back. You feel the flutter of his eyelids as he closes them. “You are special. Talented and beautiful and kind. I can think of no other more deserving of such a mark.”

Bittersweet pleasure floods you. There is nothing you can say to that, and so you let yourself enjoy his embrace. The feel of him pressed close. If only it could last. If only you could speak the words that lie heavy in your heart. If, if, if.

[wrrrenff]

Restless Nights In the Devildom

Obey Me: Shall We Date Mammon x F! Reader Synopsis: After a long day in the devildom you can't seem to get any sleep! So of course the only thing to do is go annoy your best friend Mammon. Thing don't turn out as expected when you get to his room...

Warnings: 18+, smut, restraints, bondage, p in v sex, kissing, marking, domination

Gif credits to the creator!

Today had really taken its toll. Three exams, breaking up a fight between Satan and Lucifer, and in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone Beel kept trying to eat my ingredients! All of it was adding up and you were dead tired. So why couldn’t you fall asleep? It’s been two and a half hours and nothing. You could cry at how frustrated you were.

You decided that if you can’t sleep you might as well go annoy your favorite demon. You don’t even bother to knock on Mammon’s door. At this point you are both so used to each other just barging in. When you opened the door you noticed a lump on the bed. As you got closer you saw the white hair you’re so familiar with. He was asleep. Perfect opportunity to fuck with him. His face does look really peaceful… Do you really want to ruin that? Hehe fuck yeah i do.

You slowly reach towards his shoulder, ready to shake the ever-living hell out of him. As soon as you make contact Mammon grabs your hand and quickly fling you onto his bed and straddles you and holds your wrists tightly against the mattress. *What the fuck just happened* you thought.

His furious eyes take a moment before realizing who is underneath him. He smirked. “Well well well. Look who we have here. Does the little human think she can sneak up on me that easily?”

You were breathing hard. This is not how you expected this to go at all. But you weren’t mad at this situation. Or the position.

“You okay princess? You’re breathing real heavy.” Mammon said with slight concern, slightly lifting his weight off your legs but still holding your wrists tight.

You liked this. You didn’t want it to stop. Instead of responding you decided to try something. Slowly but carefully, you lift your knee and press it between his legs, rubbing it back and forth slightly. Mammon moaned. Hard. So devilishly sweet.

“Oh, you want to play like that huh?” Mammon flew off of you and started digging through his dresser drawer. Did he not like it? You worried that you upset him and went too far. That is, until he turned around and you saw the rope and cuffs.

Before you even had a second to think you were being tied up to the demon’s bed frame. You pull at the restraints with no luck at getting out.

“Too tight?”

“They’re fine but…”

The demon raised a brow. He gently grabbed your chin and slowly lifted your face until you were forced to look at him. “What is it darling? Use your words.”

Damn demon. You didn’t want to admit how badly you wanted him but you conceded. “I want to touch you. Make you feel good.”

He chuckled, low and rumbly. It made you squirm. “You came to me. I make the rules. You’re lucky I didn’t use my gag.”

“Well there’s already one flaw in your plan, genius. You forgot to take my clothes off before tying me up.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem sweetheart.” Suddenly he uses his strength to rip your clothes off. It was so easy for him. Like taking a tissue out of the box.

“So wet for me already and we’ve barely even started.”

He was staring at your figure, eyes full of lust. They were hungry eyes, intimidating. You couldn’t help but shift under him, suddenly feeling self conscious. Before you had too much more time to think about it, Mammon dove in and kissed you hard. You didn’t reciprocate at first, taking a moment to register what was happening, but quickly enough you came to your senses and kissed back. Mammon place one hand on the back of your head, slightly pulling at your hair, his other hand at your breast, lightly teasing your nipple.

He started moving his lips lower. Down your neck biting and sucking hard, almost like he was trying to leave the most obvious marks he could so everyone would know you belonged to him, even if just for this one time. He is the demon of greed after all.

You were a moaning mess. You wanted to touch him. Feel the closeness between you too. It was so FRUSTRATING. It didn’t take long for your moans to turn to impatient whines.

“What’s the matter, princess?”

“I- I want to feel you” you were a panting mess.

“Not yet, baby.”

“Can’t you at least strip too? I want to see you. All of you.”

He seemed to contemplate this for a moment, stroking his chin in the most dramatic way like the idiot he is. He was drawing this out. After a minute he got close to your face and whispered “I’ll see what I can do”

He straddled you and started taking his shirt off. You’ve seen him shirtless before but this time was different. You’ve never wanted to feel up to someone more than you did right now. You try to reach for him but don’t get very far due to the cuffs.

“You’re cute” He continues stripping, your eyes watching hungrily. As he takes off his underwear you can’t help but wonder how the fuck that thing is going to fit inside of you. But you didn’t care. You want him and you want him now.

“Fuck me please! I need it now!” You were practically begging at this point. You could see Mammon wanted to tease you some more but even he was getting to his breaking point. He lines up with your entrance and slowly starts pushing in.

“F-fuuuuucking hell!”

He stops half way through. “Need a sec?”

You nod, struggling a bit to get any words out. After a moment you tell him to continue. He eventually bottoms out inside of you and you have never felt so full in you life. You Loved it, but you needed more.

“Move please!”

“As you wish my princess.”

He starts thrusting and immediately hitting all the right spots. Mammon leaned down and started lapping and sucking one breast while teasing the other with his hand. Feeling the heat between your bodies and all of the sensations he was making you feel, it was pure bliss.

“Mammon faster! Break me!”

Without any hesitation he started going faster and harder, your hips meeting his as best they could considering the restraints. The bed was creaking like crazy. Any other day you’d be worried that this much noise would get you in trouble with Lucifer but you could deal with the consequences later. Mammon moved off your breast and up to your neck, creating more love bites. You were getting close and he could tell. Mammon reached down between you and started rubbing your clit in circles, turning you into a blubbering mess. You couldn’t even form words and more. The only sounds filling the room at this point was just the sound of skin and both of your grunts and moans.

Feeling himself getting closer to the edge, Mammon angled himself a bit differently and was hitting your g-spot perfectly. Only a few more thrusts and you were cumming hard. You went to grab Mammon as you came but were stopped by your cuffs so you were just squirming as you came.

You lay there, still bound by the handcuffs and ropes as Mammon kept pounding into you. You were so sensitive. It felt great. Each thrust into you had you whimpering. He just kept hitting your g-spot. After a minute, it was like you had gained a second wind and you could feel yourself getting close again. Mammon, realizing this, started thrusting even harder into you. You could swear the bed was going to break. Soon you both came, screaming each other's names. You were in such a trance after that you didn’t even know your own name. Mammon collapsed on top of you, panting like crazy. After catching his breath and regaining some strength, Mammon released you from your restraints. You immediately grabbed onto him like a koala to a tree. He chuckled and held you close.

After a few minutes of cuddling, you finally broke the silence. “You know, I just came in here to annoy you but if the thanks I get for barging in here, I think I need to do it more often”

The demon smirked “From here on out you can expect a lot more, princess.” You both cuddled up as close as you could to each other and eventually drifted off into the deepest most refreshing sleep you’ve ever had.

[llyuvvia]

POV: They broke into your room while you were changing.

Absolutely not me, with my terrible English and being unable to maintain constant art style through six images (눈‸눈)

[promiself]

Dr. Zayne ❄️

Cozy Afternoon

[studioghostlegs]

"With every wave, a new adventure..."🌊

With four unique endings, Pearlglow Cafe: Sweet Crumb Kisses is a cozy otome visual novel about...

🌞New beginnings

🌞Gentle romances

🌞Delectably sweet treats

✨ PLAY IT NOW✨

[inzayneity]

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑 𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒔...

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

↷ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ ᴍᴏᴏᴅʙᴏᴀʀᴅ.

[elidoesart]

Alright bbg 🫶 @yuikomorii

[ashureiho]

マモンはおべいみーから愚者タロットカード　The Fools Card Tarot Mammon Lord of Fools, Obey Me!

[chevlvrs]

I think i have a problem, men with blue eyes

( or half )

[lichtluv]

┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.☪ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈'𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒕...

𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒕.

└─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.☪ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘

↳ 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘵 & 𝘯𝘰𝘬𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥.

[condemnedtranscendent]

day 20, mdni please

(moved fo nsfw blog, check reblogs for original post)

[ikeromantic]

His Touch

How the IkePri guys show affection through touches . . . headcanon ofc.

Chevalier

His touch is sure and possessive. There is a false confidence in his rough handling. He knows he lacks practice and a gentle hand, but this does not deter him. He will learn you until his touch is the only thing you crave. Until his hands memorize the map of your body, and his lips have claimed every peak and valley.

Clavis

Playful, progressive, experimental . . . Clavis' touch is all that and more. You are the material and the result, a means and an end. He loves to toy with you, his touches carnal and teasing. Adventurous. There is never a dull moment. And the more he tries, the more he wants to try. He will push the boundaries of pleasure and find new ways to make you sigh or scream.

Nokto

He touches you with practised hands. A man that calculates the value and impact of every touch. Nokto knows you in ways you do not know yourself. Despite the depth and breadth of his knowledge, love is new to him. And so, even with all his experience, he is often surprised. Not by your reaction, but his own.

Luke

His touch is unpracticed but confident. A simple certainty, both gentle and protective. Though his size makes him sometimes cautious, he trusts himself with you. He is encompassing in his affection, and even the lightest caress will often lead to being hugged, lifted, held. He wants to hold you close, all of you to all of him.

Leon

His touch is passionate and sweet. A burst of fire that warms without burning. He values every brush of his skin against yours. Holding hands under the table, letting his knee rest against your leg, a kiss on the cheek in passing. Leon is unreserved in his affection and it shows in the way he reaches for you.

Jin

Jin's touch is the essence of adoration and desire. Though he is an experienced lover, his previous encounters were practical, a pleasurable transaction. In short, nothing like the love he shares with you. This shows in the intimacy he shares. From his possessive arm around your waist to the less-than-chaste kiss goodbye before he goes about his business. If he could, he would never let go.

Yves

His touch is that of an artist with his most valued treasure. Gentle yet desperate, eager to hold and love. You are his favorite thing. He wants to show you off, his arm linked in yours, a partner. He wants to treat you with gifts and treats, his touch joyful and creative. He wants to be the only one you see, greedy and wracked with desire.

Licht

He touches you with a sense of awe. You are the unexpected future. A world he did not believe existed for him. He lives in you, through you, beside you. His touch is almost worshipful. When you are with him, anything is possible. His touch is a fevered need to know you are there. That you will always be there. And to remind you that he is still here, because of you.

Sariel

His touch is the devil's. Wicked and wonderful, a lover with experience. Disciplined and cool, he keeps his passionate side well hidden in public view. From the outside, it would be easy to dismiss the brush of a kiss to your cheek, the hand on your back, the momentary press of his side to yours. But these are all promises of more, when the moment is right. In private, he is still disciplined but far from cool. His love is a flame that burns and warms.

Rio

There is only one word for his touch. Devotion. All of him is yours. Every touch is a surrender to you, and a claim. What you take, you give. He wants to be everything for you. A caretaker. Protector. Friend. Lover. Confidant. His hand on your shoulder, his lips to your ear, his eyes always on you.

Keith

Keith's touch is cautious, at times reserved. You are a precious creature, a wonder that he is only beginning to explore. Even after years together, there is a sense of wonder in him at every kiss and embrace. He is exultant and protective, his fingers twined with yours. His kisses always begin gently, but may not end that way. His touch is kind, unpracticed, authentic and genuine and overflowing with love.

Wicked Keith

His touch is playful, taunting you with unexpected sensations. The sharp nip of his teeth, the caress of his tongue instead of a chaste kiss. He thrills with your reactions, and always seeks some new way to excite you. His hands are possessive, and whenever possible, he will hold onto you. He is fierce and wild, a proud creature that has claimed you for his own, and this shows in everything he does - from the way his hand settles around your shoulders to the press of his lips to yours.

Silvio

Silvio is a practiced lover, a man of wealth and experience. His touch is an adventure, an exploration of you. You are his discovery, a strange and lovely creature that passed his careful defenses and now that you are within the walls of his heart, he will never let you go. While his words are sometimes brash, his touch never is. He is a thoughtful lover, an affectionate friend. His hand rests on the small of your back, or holds your hand as if you were a delicate flower he is afraid he might crush. His kiss is like the ocean, calm upon the surface and churning with deep currents beneath.

Gilbert

His touch is that of the conqueror, one that revels in the delight of what he unexpectedly won. Possessive, an arrogance that belies the desperation and uncertainty beneath. A lonely creature that has found you, and will never let you go. You are both the entertainment and the entertained. In possessing you, he is possessed. His touch is needy, hungry, and eager, though he would never admit it. His kisses are fevered passion hidden behind a calculating veneer.

[jessikimart]

Did you get mysterious messages?

Yoosung Kim ★, Mystic Messenger

(I'm re uploading this with glaze!)