Jhin.      ///      quartlet.

🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆

how do u feel abt my rakan?

FROSTY THIS VALIDATION FROM YOU.....IS THIS THE REAL FROSTY???? WHO ARE YOU

❥     𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   .

inspired  by  devotedecay’s  non - sexual  acts  of  dominance  meme  ! send  in  one  of  these  for  my  muse’s  reaction  to  … (  add  ❝  reverse  ❞   if  you’d  like  to  see  how  my  muse  would  preform  the  action  !  )

[ shower ]   your muse joining mine in the shower.

[ choke ]   your muse choking mine.

[ kiss + soft ]   your muse pulling mine into a tender kiss.

[ kiss + rough ]   your muse pulling mine into a rough kiss.

[ pin ]   your muse pinning mine down.

[ wrists ]   your muse roughly grabbing mine by the wrists.

[ push ]   your muse pushing mine into bed.

[ rip + clothing ]   your muse tearing a piece of clothing off my muse.

[ spank ]   your muse spanking mine.

[ pull ]   your muse pulling my muses hair.

[ talk ]   your muse talking dirty to mine.

[ eyes ]   your muse making mine look them in the eyes during.

[ down ]   your muse pulling mine down by their collar / clothes.

[ knees ]   your muse telling mine to get on their knees.

[ hips ]   your muse pulling mine in close by the hips.

[ denial ]   your muse putting mine through orgasm denial.

[ many ]   your muse making mine orgasm over and over.

[ tied ]   your muse tying my muse down.

[ lazy ]   your muse lazily beginning to touch mine.

[ love ]   your muse telling mine they love them during.

[ dominance ]   your muse taking the lead and dominating mine.

[ submission ]   your muse letting mine take the lead and submitting to them.

[ humiliation ]   your muse humiliating mine, re: name-calling and verbal abuse.

[ pain ]   your muse hurting mine in bed, whether intentionally or not.

[ knife ]   your muse using a knife in bed, whether for threat or actually cutting mine.

[ hidden ]   your muse having sex with mine somewhere semi-public.

[ public ]   your muse having sex with mine in public, whee other people watch.

[ adore ]   your muse being near reverent with mine in bed.

[ dress ]   your muse having mine dress up in lingerie.

[ eat ]   your muse eating mine out.

[ sleep ]   your muse touching / beginning to have sex with mine while they’re asleep.

[ gag ]   your muse gagging mine, or or making them be quiet.

[ blindfold ]   your muse blindfolding mine.

[ praise ]   your muse praising mine in bed.

[ good ]   your muse calling mine a good boy / girl.

[ want ]   your muse telling mine they want them.

[ snarl ]   your muse growling and / or baring their teeth at mine during sex.

[ mark ]   your muse purposefully marking mine up with bruises, hickies, ect.

[ wall ]   your muse shoving mine up against a wall.

performer.     ///     quartlet.

AMBIGUOUS TILL THE LAST,    it was his cloak,   his skin,  his shield,  his everything.   lingering doubt always wore itself well upon the faces of those who seek to peer in,  to gaze until every last droplet is revealed.   far better to live as a dream than to live at all.  or at least,  that is what comforted him,  dismal as it may be.  khada jhin never performs without reason,  though oft times art requires no reason in being,  no purpose in merely existing.  art is,  and so he is.  he shall always be,  haunting the streets of cobbled houses belonging to a no - name village in zhyun.  devils do not seek reason,  they seek what they thrive for,  and thus he shall exist eternally,  eternally,  inside the nightmares of all those who have come to know him. 

❛  i’m sure you are simply dying to know.  ❜   his tone is languid,  terribly languid.   an undying smile curling artificial lips forevermore until the day it cracks open or it is torn away by bruised fingertips  (  he wondered sometimes,  if such a time might come to pass,  though the dream is quickly dashed by visions of bleeding jaws and threaded necks.  they bloom wildly.  bursting from bone and blood vessel   ;  magnificent  ).  for now,  rakan is neither a thorn nor a threat.  perhaps he is both though he has not yet pricked at the flesh enough to draw forth the virtuoso’s true ire.  what is one fool compared to another  ?  what is the sun when compared to the yawning darkness ?   oh,  what wonder. 

❛  you will find taking certain precautions might one day save your skin in the long run,  dear boy. ❜  his words are meant to burrow beneath,  wearing teeth that snap and snicker between twists of petals.  everything about khada jhin is a performance.  whether or not it is agonising,  is yet to be seen,  and for the vastayan that day might never come.  though he may be swept away by his curiosity all he likes.   ❛  best not to tempt fate now,   no ?  ❜

              such a profound level of serenity his voice encompassed,     a natural ease     —     sickeningly so     —     both in movements    &    voice,     a spark of envy may find itself growing,     blooming at the heart of a certain vastaya.     it is mystery to him if what ears hear are reality    ;    more so,     is the drawl in voice merely imagination,     auditory illusion,     or factual perception   ?     curiosity,     once enchanting    &    pure,     begins its conquest of mind.     a plague does it become that affects every corner of self     ———     nonetheless,     glee prevails behind it,     hoping to discover what truths may lie behind man enveloped in mystery.     despite aching desire to know,     he relents    &    decides to break ice,     know first secret     (   if one could call it that   )     of man behind mask.

              ❛     lucky for you,     i love to tempt fate.     ❜     that he does.     why else would he remain near evidenty dangerous character   ?     most would back from treacherous individual,     turn tail    &    return home,     to safety's warm embrace,     but not him.     a taste of danger would usually equate to a taste of entertainment,     a taste of fun.     successfully evoking ire    &    annoyance from one who maintained calm demeanor would be a fruitful endeavor.     for what reason   ?     none at all   !!     it is action without reason,     entertainment sought in most peculiar of areas     ❛     i'll tempt it right now    &    ask    :    what's the name you've got   ?     either the one that comes with the mask,     or the one behind it.     i'm game.     ❜     yet another shot at attempting to unravel the intricate web of mysteries that lie behind masked killer.     smile,     smile,     for those secrets may not yet be within reach,      albeit a stubborn vastaya knows naught of giving up.

              &    he takes opportunity to allow fate to guide limbs towards front of artisan's path,     finally attaining desired destination    :    a blockage in his path,     hoping to garner necessary information to dispel the mystery of name,     to elongate conversation.     fated stranger,     stay a while   !     travels may make one dreary    &    desire respite at vilest hour.     come,     stick for a chat.

meme.     /     accepting.

@obsidiantias​ said :   [ adore ] (^:

              how'd they get here   ?     /     fate's path had always been a mystery,     darkness shrouded the road forward,     even if it was the only road one could ever take    ;    with each step,     an opportunity for light to shine on this darkness.     with each step,     careful    &    meticulous,     solitary    &    with another,     something new each time.     be it their meeting,     no matter how long ago it was,     no matter the initial rivalry on rakan's side,     or the unending truths that came to light with each conversation.     it was always something new between them.     /     now,     here they lie in bed,     future uncertain,     but they care naught for it    ;    no,     no,     what mattered most was the present.     what mattered most was each other.

              admittedly,     he prefers their positions to be reversed,     for him to be on top ,     to be marveling down at zelgius    &    every little detail he could note.     (   that smile made of honey reserved for none other than him,     the doe - eyed gaze he sought for,     they were a treasure rakan cherished.   )     now   ?     he finds himself back to mattress beneath him,     albeit soft bed could never match the delicate touches zelgius gave him,     the way his fingers roamed over his body,     the way they danced    &    touched every part that could elicit velvety gasp from touch alone.     it's divine,     it's amazing,     it's zelgius that runs a hand over his chest,     pressing hips down against rakan's.     the intent was never to allure,     he doesn't think so,     he feels special.     fragile,     a careful treasure in supposed lover's eyes,     a temple worthy of worship through more than just dulcet vocalizations.

              not as if he particularly minded,     for the benevolent words flowed naturally,     they were never empty.     zelgius's heart delivered those sonants with a passion for him,     &    who is rakan to reject the advances of a tattered heart he cares for   ?     who is he to deny the love blooming in his heart for him,     him,     who has only ever questioned himself    &    his identity     (   they're jealous of his beauty,     they envy what they cannot have,     for zelgius belongs to no one.     even as they are together,     they are each other's but do not belong to one another.     their paths have conjoined,     decision to move onward together is of their own volition   ).

              he loves him.     he indulges in it,     in the barrage of kisses at one side of his neck,     in the traveling hand that rests on the other side.     rakan breathed,     a reminder that this is real as he cranes his neck,     granting more access,     desiring more from him.     more of those soft kisses,     more of that new sensation pressing against him     ———     it's hard.     it's hard to breathe consistently,     his breaths were short,     edging closer to panting than actually breathing     ———    &    he basks in it.     basks in the glory of this newfound feeling,     distinct from the many times he's bed someone    ;    their touches were rough,     he was rough,     previously uncaring    &    meant naught more than to satiate lust's fire,     reduce it to a dying ember.     but not with him.     lust may be a factor,     yet it is never at the forefront here,     it is their love that grants them ability to be careful,     to treat each touch as magical,     to truly care for not just the act itself,     but the indubitable fact that it's with each other    &    they care,     they care.

              ❛     zelgius     ——     ❜     out of breath,     the reverent touches,     the meaningful whispers of praise     ...     he yearns for a perpetual loop of this moment,     for time's sand to come to halt    &    grant them this quiet blessing    :    to remain with one another in their room,     away from public's eye.     for their act to go on forever.     to love him uninterrupted.     it is a selfish wish,     one that fate will not grant,     for that alone he must make the most of it.     ❛     please,     ❜     rakan doesn't recall when his arms wrapped around zelgius,     when his sharp nails gently dragged down the back of scarred flesh,     when one hand carded through azure hair    &    grasped it to keep him close.     fuck.     ❛     keep     ...     going.     i trust you.     ❜     cerulean hues sought verdants,     yet that desire must be withheld for now,     left for the upcoming act,     their shared act of love.

[ adore ] your muse being near reverent with mine in bed.

d a n c e :)

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

rakan’s ideal date? it really depends! sometimes he might be in the mood that’s a little bit exhilarating. sometimes he’s in the mood for something a little slower. things can fluctuate depending on what he might do! impress an entire crowd n you with his dancing? or just impress you with his dancing for a night? slowly guiding your every step, sharing a deeply intimate moment? he’s…………a romantic let him have this //////////

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

yep, yep, yep! he’s not shy about it. he’ll do it through verbal praises or he’ll do it through physical means as well. hold your cheek, caress it gently with his thumb, nuzzle u………wait also i need to just say he likes/wants to be the big spoon to give the most kisses possible but. little spoon also works.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

WAIT THIS IS NSFW? CHRIST HOLD ON GIVE ME A SECOND. UHHH ok. i’m shy w/ writing this on the dash so i’m not gonna ramble abt it but! i’m predictable when i say he can rough if he has to if he’s topping? but that’s when it’s got more lust involved than anything. if it’s intimate and meaningful he’s usually slow, a little more meticulous than usual, and likes to whisper a lot into his lover’s ear!?!?!? but that’s if he tops FJHKLDFHJDFLKJH if he’s bottoming expect that cocky facade to kind of melt away. bye /////////////

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favorite?

YES. ABSOLUTELY!!!! rakan likes milk chocolate the most and that’s that on that.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

OHHHHH I LOVE THIS ONE!!!!! he likes hugs, yes! his hugs are warm bc ok, think of it like this………u got a pair of arms around u. but u also got like……..his wings around u and him. it’s great i urge u to hug him

x   /   @spkemuth

meme.     /     accepting

@nullave​ said :   i think... youre a puta :flushed:

omg right back at you puta..............open your fucking purse cecil

since we’re doing shipping tier lists again :}

unprompted.     /     always accepting   !!

@quartlet​ said :   ❛ it appears the canary has flied only to fall. ❜ he speaks as though his breathing is not laboured. mismatched. parched. vividly, he sees vermillion blotted against orange, against yellow. the gun is empty but it will always be a part of him. ❛ will you dance for me one last time ? ❜

              SWEET IRONY SHALL FOLLOW FLIGHTLESS BIRD,     even through the perilous illusion,     fallacious belief that one may so grant him wings,     will irony edge closer    &    closer 'till truth's dulcet instrument presses again his chin     /     one whose bewitching feathers captivate the audience,     his audience,     shall revel in such vivacious festivities,     where all gaze at him as a beacon,     what can quell the undying worries dwelling within their hearts   !!     his dance    &    his song are a solo performance,     acquired entertainment comes not from their mirth,     but their modest acceptance of he as the heart of the party.     a dancer whose dance is unique,     distinct,     charming,     their eyes were not a godsent,     it was a mere normalcy that he indulged in    ;    wherever he went,     wherever his voice spoke,     the audience,     too,     would follow.     he was the flightless canary believed to hold the freedom of the skies.     /

              solo performances must be maintained as such.     basking in the glory of desire is not criminal in of itself,     one time flings must be accepted as a norm     (   being deemed epitome of beauty came with perks that,     to reject,     would be a rejection of beauty itself   ),     for love,     while possible,     is capable to be a saintly blessing or a dreadful curse.     a misstep serves as naught but detriment towards his performance,     cooed melodies delivered as chaos's cacophony,     the illusion will fall    &    so shall he.     to fall in public is to accept shame.     to accept shame is to forsake rakan.     himself.     //     then why,     oh,     why must his heart beat for masked man,     perfection's disciple,     whose faux whispers     (   harmonious they're not his   )     allure with every intent   ?     why must every aching part of his body gravitate towards him,     murmur supposed name,    &    accept him as suitable pair for an enchanting duet   ?     is this ok   ?     ———————————     this is not love.     

              what they have,     this is not love.     love is sweet.     love is not a curse.     love is not meant to cause misstep,     love is a guiding light,     warm,     brilliant   !!!     love is granted power to protect another.     love is permission to press ear against chest    &    listen to soft bumps against chest,     a heart beat that insinuates life    &    glory ahead for two   !!     love is not the traveling pair that has accepted an imminent death for one.     love is not the way legs wrap around waist,     pressing into him with haste    &    incisors sinking at soft flesh,     biting to mark what is rightfully his.     love is not the amalgamation of their mewls permeating thickened air around them,     each moan reverberating from rakan's throat growing louder,     stronger,     inflicted with a passion he swore himself to not fall to.     this is not love,     this is not love   !!!!!!     THEN WHY DOES IT FEEL SO DAMN GOOD   ?

              ❛     guess i did fall.     i fell for you.     ❜     such is the means of life.     to fall for perfection's embodiment is to render himself subservient to his will.     beauty's incarnate must fall for perfection to rise.     a stage may hold two,     yet one starring role shall prevail successful.     one actor is to hog the glory    &    fame with the name under the production they worked on.     their continued act,     while recognized,     must come to an end.     they both knew.     death's icy touch hid behind mask,     each meticulous digit that traced his chest at earlier times evinced that.     rakan did not care.     to feel alive,     to be granted illusion of flight with jhin,     was an eternity whose end drew near.     he's not afraid.     ❛     it's going to be our last dance,     isn't it   ?     ❜     life's hue will no longer bless his eyes.     darkness lied near,     awaiting for its stealthy embrace,     believing itself to be unexpected.     but rakan's breath is heavy,     teeth sunken into jhin's neck,     marking a memory for him to remember    &    remember the man that evoked sweet music from him.     he wants jhin to remember each delicate yet rough touch at his hips,     the way thumbs drew circles around them     ———     each thrust that served as a deceptive truth    :    that they were near one,     that this conjured pleasure was real.     (   all of it was real.     this was coming.   )     ❛     let me give you something to remember then,     baby.     ❜     presses chin down against gun's curved barrel,     intake of breath before a shaky exhale escapes him.     he smirks.     ❛     &    you make sure that they remember me when i go out,     yeah   ?     ❜