[ I Wrote This With One Thought And One Thought In Mind: Blindfolded Blowjob. ] - Blog Posts

meme.     /     accepting.

@quartlet​ said :   o we doing this???????? okay [ blindfold ]

              TO DANCE UPON THE FLAMES OF DANGER had been a viable way of producing entertainment,     be it evoking ire from men that had no control over own emotions,     thus constituting their subsequent violent attempts at ceasing life's song from blessing vastaya's ear     /     alas for them,     he does not so simply allow one to intervene,     his death is not nigh,     it is a whispered tale amongst the laypersons that believe each deed he takes,     each course of action seized,     is a death wish that facilitates death's chilly embrace.     ah,     how such could not be further from the truth.     /     life's song is one he's heard for oh,     so long,     no matter her repeated melody,     no matter how each verse is similar to another,     there was enough to decipher one note from the other,     enough knowledge of what makes the world go round that could be attuned into her performance.     she may be her own orchestra,     but rakan's attention will not falter.     for if a double bar drew near,     the end would only be evincing itself.     the climax of her piece had been reached.     it is reaching a velvety pianissimo,     each sound growing more silent     ...     yet rakan smirks.

              her song plays in the back of his head,     but for how long   ?     he opts to toy with fire again,     to lavish touches upon certain maestro's body,     to admire the scrawny stature that had been capable of doing oh,     so much.

              he knows,     he knows of the dangers that lurk within his course of actions,     he is astutely aware of how that gun,     tailored to his sense of fashion,     is loaded with the bullets of his undoing.     one.     that is all that's needed for him to become a beauteous work of art,     his feathers aflame    &    each limb in his body feeling the burning sensation as each part of him contorts into a phenomenal arrange of roses.     yes,     only he is capable of making scarlet liquid flowing through him to adopt the exterior of petals from beloved roses.     

              fingers delicately admire biceps,     gripping,     testing for a specific reaction.     to evoke even one noise,     a pleasured melody from jhin,     a sign that he enjoys this.     what comes next     ...     it's a blur.     one moment,     rakan's hands are roaming across clothed body,     an overt attempt to entice him,     to see if a virtuoso may so easily succumb to lust,     see him in a more vulnerable light.     /     there's one absolute truth he's come to accept,     that jhin himself is a poison he must not drink from,     that to bare any sort of heart to him may prove to hold dire consequences,     for a tale of love    &    care shall not prevail at the end of this story,     at the end of their story.     he cares naught for it.     if khada jhin is the chalice filled with very wine that held a transient moment of euphoria,     very one many warned rakan of to not drink from,     for death lies at the end of this cursed drink,     he would drink from it regardless of their pleas.     owed to his confidence in hearing life's song     ...     owed to his insatiable curiosity that wanted more of jhin.     more.     MORE   !!!

              it was to no avail.     sight had been relinquished,     albeit not permanently.     rakan finds himself on his knees,     blindfolded,     breath erratic for a moment as he attempts to recollect his memories of what occurred for it to lead here.     nothing.     a fool too lost in his own pleasure to connect what happened,     now he is left to hum,     wonder at what jhin plans to do.     the only man that could kill him had the upper hand here,     the only man who could so easily grant him chance to hear the end of life's performance holds the gift of sight,     even through that mask.     even then     ...     rakan smirks.     there is no attempt to remove the blindfold,     he does not stand up.     for now,     he shall play the part of an obedient nightingale    &    allow his song to do the talking.

              ❛     a blindfold   ?     ❜     intonation evinces his inquisitive tone,     as if judging this turn of events.     he isn't.     he likes it.     all it takes is a grin to know.     ❛     didn't think this was your style,     but i can't lie,     i'm digging it.     ❜     amused hum reverberates at his throat,     thinking it's time to be more bold.     verbally,     at least.     an offer,     if anything.     ❛     so,     tell me     ...     you gonna use my mouth now,     or what   ?     ❜