The Real Naisu

I love Flamebringer, my exception, my muse. 2512 & 2408

[naisunaisunaisu]

[FlameDoc] Through the glasses

Hiii this is my first post on Tumblr : D I'm enjoying a sleepless night and just suddenly have the thought to upload my fics on this platform... And yes I've been loving Flamebringer for more than 6 years : ) He's so gorgeous... I love him so much...

~~~

Through the glasses

Started on 16/1/2026 - Finished on 5/2/2026

Written by Naisu

'Is a kiss too much to ask for?' the Doctor asked.

Through the glasses, Flamebringer looked at the mischievous one who had just put up the question. Her tone of voice sounded like she was planning something, and nothing was surprising about it. His girl usually had many intriguing ideas in that brilliant mind of a leader.

'It's not too much… But aren't we reading?' he calmly replied, while allowing her to sit on his lap.

'I've finished reading for today… And… do you know how much time I've spent looking at you?'

Of course, he knew.

When he was still focused on the pages, he already noticed her gaze. His girl was so bold that she even moved in closer to get a better view.

She had always been like that, especially when he wore the glasses for reading.

'Should I be honoured that my leader wants to put me under scrutiny?'

'It depends on you. I only ask for a kiss.'

'Is that all you want?'

Normally, his Doctor would not stop after only one single kiss.

She did not answer directly. Actually, she had not even calculated her next move. The image of her beloved with a pair of glasses on had always been both interesting and unfamiliar to her. If she had to, she would admit that this type of accessories fit him nicely… too nicely. Maybe, it was a match with her preferences? She was not entirely sure.

But one thing she could guarantee was that the glasses always complimented his features.

He looked…

'Gorgeous.'

One word left her mouth.

Then, she put up a whole sentence.

'You look gorgeous.'

Right after that, there was something indescribable in his eyes.

The Doctor had never called him by that adjective before. As usual, his facial expressions were really hard to read, but she did not mind. For each day passed, she understood him a little more. His face might not tell anything, but she knew that his pointy ears would turn red when he felt flustered.

Therefore, she casually touched them.

'I can see your ears… They are red.'

Did she make him feel shy? Embarrassed? Or even confused?

Anyway, this was a rare chance for her to tease him.

'A Sarkaz is not normally called by that word…' he finally spoke, 'You surely know that.'

'I know for certain.'

She traced her fingertips down to his chin, her gaze stopped at his lips.

Before he let out any other words, she had kissed him. A tender kiss.

On his side, he had already put the book down, his hands grabbed her waist to pull her in closer.

'Just because I don't object, doesn't mean I let you do whatever you want,' he whispered.

'So, what will you do to stop me?'

He did not say anything further. Instead, he gently pushed her down on the sofa.

'Please, keep the glasses on for me.'

It was simply a request from her.

'They may fall off... But they won't get in our way.'

With her hands reaching out, she eagerly hugged him.

'What should I do to let you know how gorgeous you are?'

'One thing's for sure. Simple words won't buy me.'

'Then I'll use what we are most familiar with… How about we start?'

'Let's see.'

The distance was shortened, and she loved that. If time could stop, she would spend an eternity with him, to stay within his embrace, warm and safe, forever. Her palm touched his jawline, caressed him in a slow motion, so gently that he could barely feel the pressure on his skin.

'I love your jawline…'

A light kiss fell on the black stones appearing above his neck.

Next, one of her fingers touched his lower lip.

'Your lips… That's why I asked for a kiss. Maybe I'll ask for more?'

A smirk appeared on his face, and she could see his fangs clearly.

'Your fangs, too… It would take me days and days to list out everything I love about you.'

He spoke no more. Instead, he kissed her. This time, he became more intense, as if he wanted to take out every word that had just escaped her mouth, then swallowed them all like a starving beast. Indeed, he was starving for her love, her touches and her comforting words.

Whenever he kissed her, she always felt surreal. She even asked herself: "What if this is only a dream?" but the small pain he created quickly pulled her back, and made her realize that this was the reality they were enjoying together.

'Can't you let me breathe for a second?'

Her chest was moving up and down to catch some air.

His kisses were wild.

Too wild.

'You asked for it. Do you regret it now?'

'Not at all…'

This time, she slowly took off his glasses.

'Do you know why I want to admire you with glasses on?'

Before that question, he simply shook his head.

'Because they compliment your eyes very well. Your eyes are beautiful.'

His eyes, burning like fire, were as bright as the most precious gemstones. Only his eyes could see through all her truth and lies, only his eyes could catch her thoughts, even when she chose to hide them deep down inside.

She actually made him surprised.

First, she used a fancy word like "gorgeous", now she called his eyes beautiful?

He had never regarded himself in that way.

After all, he was simply a weapon of wars that chose to stay loyal to her.

Yet, he even knew if he said that out loud, she would refute.

What could he do now?

'That's enough.'

Finally, his voice made a demand.

'How rare of you to back out.'

'Back out?'

He repeated her words, then, suddenly, he carried her up with both of his arms. It seemed like he wanted to leave the sofa to get to somewhere more comfortable.

It would be their bed.

After the moment he put her down, he immediately sealed her lips, once again.

And he did not leave her any chance to escape. She was locked within his embrace, his body lightly pressed on her.

He had captured her entirely.

The Sarkaz wanted more, he wanted something between intimacy and insanity. He bit on her lips, listening to her whimpers while moving down to her neck. This place needed more marks from him, so he did not leave it unattended.

However, her shirt felt so restricting. He could tear it apart, but she would not be happy about it. That was why he patiently unfastened each button one by one.

'What are you trying to do?'

She startled when his warm hands touched her bare skin.

'It's my turn to take a closer look at you.'

Before she could say "Stop", his lips had met her exposed neck. It did not take him a long time to create many red marks on his lover.

'Would you call me gorgeous after this?'

Looking at her flushed face, he asked.

'I still keep that word… But, I'll also call you… a mad man.'

To be more specific, she added.

'My mad man.'

He let out a satisfied chuckle.

'Now that sounds more like me.'

She pulled him in, to the point that their noses almost touched each other.

'Would my mad man kiss me a few more times?'

Her eyes were full of anticipation.

'As you wish, my Doctor.'

[taylorswiftandx]

Taylor Swift and Hands

‘Taylor Swift’

Our Song: He’s got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart

'Fearless (Taylor’s Version)’

Fearless: But you’re just so cool, run your hands through your hair

Fearless: You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless

Fearless: My hands shake, I’m not usually this way

White Horse: You had to fight to have the upper hand

Breathe: You’re the only thing I know like the back of my hand

Change: Throw your hands up 'cause we never gave in

Today Was A Fairytale: You took me by the hand and you picked me up at six

You All Over Me: With your hands in your pockets and your “don’t you wish you had me” grin

Bye Bye Baby: And all the pages are just slipping through my hands

'Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)’

Mine: Everything was slipping right out of our hands

Speak Now: I stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me

The Story Of Us: The battle’s in your hands now

Never Grow Up: Your little hand’s wrapped around my finger

Last Kiss: Because I love your handshake meeting me father, I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets

Long Live: The time we stood with our shaking hands

Ours: Your hands are tough but they are where mine belong

When Emma Falls In Love: Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand

Foolish One: My cards are on the table, yours are in your hand

Foolish One: Now I’m sliding down the wall with my head in my hands

Timeless: Holding hands on the way to a dance and the date on the back said 1958

'Red (Taylor’s Version)’

State of Grace: These are the hands of fate, you’re my Achilles heel

Treacherous: I’ll do anything you say if you say it with your hands

Sad Beautiful Tragic: Long handwritten notes deep in your pocket

Ronan: I can still feel you hold my hand, little man

Ronan: What if I kept the hand-me-downs you won’t grow into

Better Man: And I know why we had to say goodbye like the back of my hand

'1989 (Taylor’s Version)’

Blank Space: Grab your passport and my hand

All You Had To Do Was Stay: Had me in the palm of your hand

Wildest Dreams: His hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room

This Love: These hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me

I Know Places: You stand with your hand on my waistline

I Know Places: Just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it

New Romantics: Please take my hand and please take me dancing

“Slut!”: Love to think you’ll never forget handprints in wet cement

'reputation’

End Game: And I can’t let you go, your handprints on my soul

Delicate: Long night with your hands up in my hair

Gorgeous: You should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room

Dancing With Our Hands Tied: I could’ve spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Dancing With Our Hands Tied: But we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied

Dress: My hands are shaking from holding back from you

Dress: My hands are shaking from all this

Dress: My hands shake, I can’t explain this

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things: But you stabbed me in the back while shaking my hand

New Year’s Day: You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi

'Lover’

Lover: With every guitar string scar on my hand

I Think He Knows: I think he knows his hands around a cold glass make me want to know that body like it’s mine

I Think He Knows: Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh, we could follow the sparks, I’ll drive

Cornelia Street: But then you called, showed your hand

Cornelia Street: You hold my hand on the street, walk me back to that apartment

Death By A Thousand Cuts: Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

Afterglow: I pinned your hands behind your back, oh, thought I had reason to attack, but no

ME!: I know that I’m a handful, baby, uh

It’s Nice To Have A Friend: Something gave you the nerve to touch my hand

'folklore’

cardigan: Hand under my sweatshirt, baby, kiss it better

epiphany: Hold your hand through plastic now

hoax: My best laid plan, your sleight of hand

'evermore’

willow: I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that’s my man

champagne Problems: Because I dropped your hand while dancing

champagne Problems: And hold your hand while dancing

ivy: Oh, goddamn, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

'Midnights’

Maroon: Sobbing with your head in your hands, ain’t that the way shit always ends?

Sweet Nothing: And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

Mastermind: And the touch of a hand lit the fuse of a chain reaction of countermoves

The Great War: My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the Great War

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve: And if I was a child, did it matter if you got to wash your hands?

Dear Reader: I prefer hiding in plain sight, my fourth drink in my hand

Hits Different: I washed my hands of us at the club

'The Tortured Poets Department’ / 'The Anthology’

Fresh Out The Slammer: Handcuffed to the spell I was under for just one hour of sunshine

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?: But my bare hands paved their paths

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can): His hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face

loml: Dancing phantoms on the terrace, are they second-hand embarrassed?

imgonnagetyouback: I can take the upper hand and touch your body

imgonnagetyouback: Even if it’s handcuffed, I’m leaving here with you

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus: Hands in the hair of somebody in darkness named Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus and I just watched it happen

The Prophecy: Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, oh, but it’s gone again

The Prophecy: Slow is the quicksand, poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand, oh, still I dream of him

'The Life of a Showgirl’

The Fate of Ophelia: Pledge allegiance to your hands, your team, your vibes

Actually Romantic: It’s actually romantic, I really got to hand it to you

Actually Romantic: It’s actually romantic, I really got to hand it to you, to you

Wood: Fingers crossed until you put your hand on mine

CANCELLED!: We’ll take you by the hand and soon you’ll learn the art of never getting caught

Other Songs written by Taylor

All Of The Girls You Loved Before: A heart is drawn around your name in someone’s handwriting, not mine

All Of The Girls You Loved Before: We’re sneaking out into town, holding hands, just killing time

Christmases When You Were Mine: When you were putting up the lights this year did you notice one less pair of hands

I Heart ?: I got an I heart question mark written on the back of my hand

Only The Young: Their hands are stained with red

Renegade: And then you squeeze my hand as I’m about to leave

The Joker And The Queen (Remix): I showed you my hand and you still let me win

Official Alternate Releases

Ivy (Clean Version): Oh, I can’t, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Maroon (Clean Version): Sobbing with your head in your hands, ain’t that the way it always ends?

Official Draft Lyrics

Never Grow Up (Lover Journal 1): Your little hands wrapped around my finger in the soft glow of your blue night light

New Romantics (1989 TV Deluxe CD Poster): So take my hand and we’ll both stand inside a burning building

The Fate of Ophelia (Original Songwriting Voice Memo): With nothing on your hand or vibe [unintelligible] just to feel your love, the fate of Ophelia

[wofwalker]

but its really fun tho...

[day-at-rhodes-island]

Flamebringer tends to his plants quietly, the Doctor sits nearby lost in thought, watching the swordsman as he works. People tend to avoid this small corner of the R.I.I.C., mostly to avoid the bloodthirsty warrior who manages it. The Doctor comes to the quiet garden whenever they need a little peace, but today they have a question that needs to be answered.

“What was I like before?” Doctor asks, breaking the silence.

Flamebringer responds without turning away from the flowers, “Just because you can’t remember who you were doesn’t mean you’re a different person. You are different only on the surface, deep down nothing has changed.” 

“You said I was a commander before rhodes island?”

Flamebringer nods, “You have always had a talent for death.”

“Why was I fighting?”

“Does it matter?” Flamebringer turns to look at the Doctor, “Would knowing change anything?” 

Doctor thinks for a moment, “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.”

[cilundi]

Arknights Sketches Malenights? I take commissions now!

[miraeofficial]

nsfw flins hcs 😏

FREAKY FLINS! may appear as aloof and dignified, but beneath that cultivated sophistication is a man who battled his own lustful desires constantly. The restraint he had to force himself to abide by was a constant internal struggle; he couldn't stop his tired, wandering golden eyes from getting a glimpse of your chest—watching them bounce with each step you took or whenever you used animated hand gestures. He wondered if they could also bounce in the same motion when you're riding his cock, maybe even using his hands to grasp onto them as he thrust deeper inside you, pinching the sensitive bud between his fingers. His mouth would water at the thought of sucking on them, wishing that milk would overflow from them and drip down his chin, while your hand brushed his long, purple hair with care, and you sweetly cooed at him. "Such a—Hyaaaah—just like thattt…greedy thing, mmhm?" He hummed in agreement, lolling his tongue around the hardened nipple, feeling it pebble even more under his touch.

FREAKY FLINS! bore the blood of a Fae, naturally, he would inherit heightened senses, specifically smell. To leave your clothes, or maybe your underwear, unattended in his humble abode, is the greatest mistake you would commit. The scent of your perfume, as if it were a drug to him, would linger in the air, filling his nostrils with a heady enticement. This lustful drive extended to drawing the material close to his nose, burying his face in the fabric, and inhaling deeply as if trying to consume your raw essence in one breath. His tongue flattened on the cloth, tasting the remnants of your presence, wetting it with his eager desire. He wished you could witness this side of him, so shameless and pathetic, and maybe whip him into submission with your disapproving gaze, then stuff the material inside his filthy mouth with his eyes half-lidded in anticipation of your punishment.

FREAKY FLINS! has the mouth of a refined gentleman when using the tongue of the usual Teyvat language directed to those around him, deliberately shaping him as a man with a mysterious and alluring aura. Though when using the language of a Fae, he has the unlimited capacity to speak whatever the depths of his desires dictate, for many people have little understanding of the true extent of his depravity. Thus, he abused that language in your presence—mostly while he was inside of you, grunting in pleasure and whispering obscenities that you will never know the true meaning of. "Spread yourself for me… aaaahhhhh… yes, precisely so." With both of your legs mercilessly pinned down in all their vulnerability, faint marks blooming across your skin from his rough hands, and his insatiable smirk watching the tide of your pleasure rise and fall. "Breathe, my darling; each breath—oooohhh, yesss—draws my seed deeper…" He leaned in closer to your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispered, "You wished to be bred, am I correct? To carry my child, to be forever marked as mine?" He merely chuckled at your confused response but only uttered a whimper of pleasure in return. "Good girl…"

FREAKY FLINS! wished to be tied up, though he’d never admit it without a wry little smile. The notion of surrendering even a fraction of control thrilled him—silken rope crossing his wrists, gold eyes half-lidded as if to hide the way his pulse jumped. He’d murmur half-jokes about 'research into restraint,' yet the moment a knot slid tight, he’d exhale, long and trembling, as though the weight of his self-control had finally lifted. Every soft sound that left his throat betrayed how deeply he enjoyed being handled, even while pretending indifference. He liked the symmetry of it: his fine shirt unbuttoned just enough to expose the line of his collarbone, his hair falling over the bindings at his wrists. "Careful—haaah, oohh—" he’d drawl, voice still low and cultured, "I might start enjoying this far too much." The ropes became a language between you: every tug answered by a quiver, every brush of fingers across the knots answered by a breathy sound caught halfway between a curse and a plea.

To see him bound was to watch contradiction incarnate—the dignified Fae noble and lightkeeper reduced to stillness, yet radiating power even in submission. He would lift his head, eyes hazy, and whisper something in his native tongue—words that could mean "more," or "harder," or simply "please." Whatever their meaning, they always ended the same: with him shivering against his restraints, a faint smile curving his mouth, murmuring through his teeth, "Just like that… yes… haaah—keep me right here, masterrrrr."

[yungsumii]

flins may be a gentleman, but we all know that even he couldn't resist his mischievous nature and tease his s/o a little.. so just imagine flins pretending to be asleep for the sole purpose of getting "goodnight" kisses from you. don't give him that look, flins is merely a lovestruck man who wants to bask in your attention to the fullest. and if he fell asleep, how can he feel your soft lips on his cool skin?! you spot your lightkeeping lover laid across the couch with a "peaceful" look on his face, eyes closed and breathing even (if his human body actually works in human ways that is!) that's a rare sight.. flins barely sleeps at all. if he does rest, you know he would usually dwell in his lantern instead of sleeping out in his human form. perhaps he is just exhausted from the recent spike of the wild hunt occurrences? that must be it. you quietly snuck up to your sleeping beauty and crouched down to his level, leaning down very slowly and quietly to make sure you don't wake him up before finally pressing your lips on his forehead, wishing him a sweet dream. you leaned away and-- was that a smile? did flins smile in his sleep after you kissed him? ... maybe you were just overthinking stuff. it was then when you glanced down at his lips, slightly ajar in his "slumber", that you realized just how beautiful flins looked being asleep like this. you rarely see him sleep let alone out in his mortal body, so you never realized how pretty his face looks like being in so much peace. you stare at your lover's lips, contemplating, without knowing that an "asleep" flins could feel your eyes on him. he gave you a few more minutes to think before his arm lifted from his side to cradle the back of your head and gently pushes your face down to meet his cold but soft lips while he leans up to meet yours. oh how flins loves the priceless look of surprise and embarrassment etched on your face right now.. he wish there's a way to keep that cute look playing in his head over and over. flins is satisfied, very satisfied with his little play pretend today. there, might be a little scolding waiting for him at the door just a minute after this but as long as he gets to see your very adorable expression, flins wouldn't mind getting scolded eternally <3.

[rosereverent]

The concept of Flins showing you his vulnerable, fae side.

(a portrayal of his yearning nature ♡)

reader is implied to be female.

His duties as a Lightkeeper are bound to keep him occupied well enough, but when the wind soaring through the lands of the moon whispers of its tranquil grace, it somehow always guides him back to you.

That is the silver of freedom he allows himself to indulge in. Returning to your warm arms after hours spent scattering the Wild Hunt has become his quiet ritual, one lightening up his relentless days he learned how to cherish.

This man was one long devoted to solitude, keeping his past buried beneath the veil of silence. Yet this time, when you entered his solemn life, it was as if, for once, someone offered him the same, tender light he had spent centuries bestowing upon others.

Back then, he would tell you that a heart such as yours belongs to the sunlight, that even though he treasures your presence amidst the cemetery's hush, he would rather see you somewhere safer.

But now, he could not picture a world where you would not lie beside him, inside the lighthouse that the two of you decided to consider home.

He would gradually grow accustomed to your presence; now yearning for you whenever you're not near him. Should duty call him, he already begins to grieve, for he knows how his heart splinters each time you're apart. He wishes you safe, and as much as he trusts you, he cannot summon faith enough to believe you'd always emerge unscathed from the world's cruelty, even when he's there to protect you.

If harm ever were to befall you simply because he failed to guarantee your safety, he would not forgive himself, as he's not the type to dare gamble something as sacred as your life.

And so, when he finally allows himself to reunite with you, his composure unravels. He goes straight to you with no hesitation crossing his mind. Laying right beside you, he buries his face in the hollow of your neck, clinging as though you were the anchor of his being.

He breathes you in, not even because of how fragrant you are, but how human, a warmth so achingly alive.

“Long day?” You murmur, though you already know the answer. Even though his feelings and needs were processed rather differently than a human's, you knew how much his work might strain him.

His hands found your waist, holding it gently. “Were it within my power, I'd ask the stars to delay their rising, now that I'm here with you.”

He brushed a kiss against your cheek, the corner of his mouth curving faintly. “Unfortunately,” he adds. “thoughts of you must remain enough of a sustain when the distance grows too cruel.”

You brushed his long hair strands ever gently, until the tension inside him drained from his body, like sand from an opened fist. Sleep might have taken him, were he not so used to denying it.

His lips drifted down your neck, leaving gentle kisses. Your hands in his hair now gripping him firmer, his restraint faltering beneath the gravity of missing you. His mouth traced your pulse, your breath catches, resulting in a soft sound escaping your mouth.

“Kyryll… it tickles, ah–” you murmur, torn between rationality and your own desire. Yet your hands only drew him closer to you, helpless against the ache he stirs in you.

His tongue tasted your skin, following the delicate line of your jaw. “Forgive me, my light. I seem to lack any restraint tonight. How terribly unmannered of me...”

His hand that rested on your waist glides down, finding the back of your tight. Before you could protest, he captures your mouth in a deep kiss.

It steals your breath as a result of both the intensivity and suddenness of it. Your fingers clutch on the fabric of his shirt, muffled sounds slipping from your mouth as the world narrows to the taste of him.

He left a faint trail of saliva between you when you two finally part, glistening in the half-light.

“Too much, dearest?” He asks softly, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, giving you a moment to come back to your senses. “Breathe.”

He whispered softly, placing a tender kiss against your skin, as if making a quiet apology.

“Did… something happen today?” you ask at last, still quite dazed, just as your hand drifted up to trace the curve of his jaw.

He closed his eyes, exhaling a low, slow breath. “No, not particularly.” His voice falters just slightly, almost human in its tenderness. “I only… missed you dearly, more than I meant to.”

He surrendered to the touch you offered him, the intensity now dissolving into something quieter, the air growing calm like the waters after a storm.

His forehead now rested against yours, whispering to you how being near you steadies his being after the chaos of battle.

From a moment of passion, you two have embraced the simplicity of the quietness; he trust you enough not to be only recognized, but seen.

The lighthouse creaks; waves press softly against the rocks below. In the dim light, you could notice how his features lose their sharpness, how his usually untouchable nature gave way to something unguarded.

You feel his fingers twitch at your waist before they still completely.

“Sleep, my love.” You press a kiss to his temple. “Let me be the one who guards your dreams tonight.”

Outside, the tides rise and fall, the moon drifts higher. Inside, the keeper of light allowed himself to take a respite, at last.

[rosereverent]

The night whispers of your name ' How does Flins fall for you? ♡ Our yearner boy is back

It manifested as a deep, deep ache lingering in his chest.

One that stemmed from unending questions born quietly in his mind, or rather, unvoiced concerns, almost as if keeping him from rest.

He did not realise how he tended to ponder over the ever-present fragility that clings to each human, much more frequently that he would admit, as though his every instinct compelled him to watch over you, to illuminate your path, step by step.

This would appear as subtle, ever romantic gestures that his mind could comprehend no sooner than his heart would;

· Flins is a gentleman. Each of his actions carries a careful tenderness, born of the fear that even the slightest rashness might mar something as fragile as a flower’s petal.

· Once alone with you, he allows himself a little bit more intimacy; skin meeting skin, his breath warming you, became his unspoken ways of claiming you as his.

· Separation did little to loosen your hold on his mind. He would gather flowers from the moon’s quiet land, sought out the most beautiful jewels he could acquire, and offer them to your hands, confessing that he has always been drawn to beautiful things.

· His way with words remains as one of his greatest virtues, and so he would utter the most refined of them meant just for your ears alone.

“My lady, do you see how the moon is awash with splendor? And yet, I find my gaze drawn only to the way its rays linger upon your face.”

· He feels your sorrow as though it were his own, and bends every instinct to ease it: brushing a lock of hair from your face or adjusting the folds of your garments when weather grows too cruel, hoping the gentlest touch might carry his love directly to your heart.

· And oh, how he cherishes you so. When duty allows, he pours himself into his artistry: sketching your likeness with painstaking care, fashioning ornaments to reflect your beauty, or leaving small tokens that speak of his devotion in ways words cannot.

· He cannot bear the thought of you in danger. When walking beside you, he may rest a hand lightly on the small of your back, as if it could shield you, then steal quiet glances when he thinks you’re unaware, letting his silent admiration linger.

And mayhaps, you will find your heart drawn towards his light.

[rosereverent]

fae lovemaking hcs ♡

nsfw themes, minors dni. female reader

· Flins perceives it as something much more spiritual than physical - the pleasure matters less than the quiet, reverent awareness of how deeply he is bound to you.

· To him, this is a way of claiming. He detests marring your delicate skin - of causing you pain or leaving marks born of carelessness - yet he can never fully resist the urge to leave proof of himself behind.

· We still do not know much about faes, but I feel like their instincts while in their raw state might go pretty wild, driven by strong emotions for their significant one. As much as he would like to control himself and suppress the desire within him, expect him to lose himself - to move as though guided by instinct rather than thought, senses blurred, restraint unraveling under the weight of how deeply he feels for the one he loves.

· And oh, your scent. It is achingly human, unmistakably yours. It just makes him want to be closer to you, to bury deeper. It strips him of thought, stirs something feral and unguarded, urging him closer, until restraint feels like agony.

· His thrusts are slow, but deep. He takes his time with you, honouring you with each sweet motion, as if it was a testament to the bond he shares with you. Once close, his rhythm quickens just slightly, betraying the restraint he is struggling to keep.

· Even deprived of his senses, his mind remains sharp enough to murmur praises against your ear, telling you just how utterly perfect you are for him, how completely he belongs to you, and your trembling body can't help but clench around him tighter in response.

· His instinct commands him to fill you wholly, until every part of you bears only the traces that come from him alone. Every movement, every press of himself against you, is guided by that need, raw and untamed, yet threaded with devotion.

“How very breathtaking.” The air hums with a quiet tension, catching your eyes with a fathomless intensity as if he could see every hidden corner of you. “Can you feel this, my light? How do our souls—ah—intertwine so beautifully?”

He sank deep into you with each thrust, hovering above you, observing your every single expression almost as if he could devour you whole with his gaze.

“This warmth… your warmth, ngh…” He whispered right into your ear. Voice low and trembling. “I did not ever deem such a possibility for me—to feel such a gentle fire again...”

You longed to answer, to return the weight of his confession with your own, but your voice betrayed you - fracturing into helpless sounds that he drew from you effortlessly.

“Yet you granted me that—that very opportunity—” His rhythm shifted, quicker now, urgency threading through each movement as your legs wrapped around his back and your nails dug into his skin. “To bestow love upon someone so incandescent… so utterly mine to cherish…”

Even in the wildness of his desire, there was a care, a devotion that wrapped around you as tightly as his body did. His lips descended to your breasts, lavishing them with small, deliberate kisses, then gently sucking your sensitive skin. When he found a spot especially tender, he lingered, sucking gently, worshipfully, as though memorizing every inch of you. Only when he had traced every contour, every subtle rise and dip, did he lift his head. “Feel me—yes, just like that, my love.” His lips now met yours, raw and fervent.

One hand cradled the line of your jaw with the utmost care, tilting your face to him as though you were the most precious thing he had ever held. The kiss grew fiercer, and a shiver ran through him, betraying the tension building in his body - he was close, almost at the edge.

He ensured that every motion, every press of himself, brought you only pleasure, guiding you with painstaking care until your eyes rolled back in helpless surrender. Only then did he allow himself release, moving within you with a tremulous intensity. His semen filled you, your bodies left trembling. You felt so achingly full of him.

“Your mere presence feels like I've been permitted to gaze into the sun once more.”

Oh, he did not pull out. The warmth was far too sweet to abandon. He stayed inside you, his eyes looking at you as if not driven by instinct merely a moment ago. Each shiver you let out, he would quench with his gentle touch.

The Lighthouse felt quieter now, as if even the stars had stilled the waters around it, bending the world to a hush for the two of you.