SFW? BLOG . any prns . Multi-fandom . BEWARE OF SPOILERS . irregular posting schedule . each posts will include warnings, there will be some suggestive & dark content !
Summary : In which, you find a poisoned meal at your doorstep every morning. And so, you make it your life's motto to savor it and provide your thoughts.
Much to Lohen's dismay, you never seemed particularly impressed by any of his carefully crafted poisons.
While most love stories begin with flowers, yours began with poison.
Most people reacted poorly to poison. They cried, screamed, and maybe even succumbed to death.
You, apparently smiled.
Lohen had first heard the rumor by accident.
"Apparently the new medic (Y/N) has a strange fascination with toxins," a knight muttered over drinks.
He hadn’t meant to care. He really hadn’t. But something about the word 'fascination' lodged itself under his skin like a splinter that refused to be ignored.
So, naturally, he did what any reasonable man with too much curiosity and too little restraint would do—he investigated.
Two alchemists confirmed it later, whispering that you had once voluntarily tasted diluted snake venom just to observe its effects.
That further piqued his curiosity.
And what better way to find out the truth than test the rumor himself?
After a day of locking himself in his house, he had come up with his very own poison. Made from the remains of a dendro slime, mixed with a few crushed petals of Dendrobium, and a generous splash of expired alcohol stolen from the Cat’s Tail.
He didn't know if it was truly toxic. In fact, he just mixed random ingredients he found revolting.
He wasn't planning on truly poisoning you after all. In its current concentration, it would merely cause temporary numbness (maybe).
And so he placed a cute little package in front of your house (he stole the documents that held information of those working under the Grand Master to find your address). Inside the package was a plate of Hash Brown he had cooked himself.
Of course, the poison was sprinkled on top as well.
He knocked on the door to your house and hid in a bush nearby.
He watched the door open, a shiver of excitement going down his spine.
But when you stepped out, his eyes widened. You weren’t what he had imagined. Not old, not bitter, not hunched over with tired eyes and stained robes.
You looked... young and composed. Normal in fact.
You glanced at the package, shrugged, and brought it inside.
The next day, he had half hoped there would be some commotion. Instead, nothing happened.
Lohen found that significantly more unsettling than if you had screamed.
Did you not open it?
Did you die?
Worse, did you throw it away?
By the second day, irritation curdled into curiosity again, and curiosity dragged him back to your house.
He hadn’t even reached the door when something stopped him.
A box.
His box.
He stared at it, then at the note pinned neatly on top.
It read-
---
Observation Log
Possible dendro slime derivative.
Taste profile:
Slight bitterness.
Floral aftertaste.
Perhaps traces of alcohol.
Symptoms:
Tingling lips.
Mild numbness in fingers.
Onset approximately twenty-five seconds.
Conclusion:
Sloppily made poison.
---
He stared at the handwriting. The faint smell of alcohol lingering on the hastily ripped paper.
'..... Sloppy?' he scoffed, annoyance creeping up into his face. He crumbled the paper, staring at the door with a sadistic smile.
"Fine then. I'll show you real poison."
The next morning, another box appeared at your doorstep.
Like last time, you took it into your home. You had no idea who was delivering these, but the last package being drenched in a mild toxin made it interesting enough for you to open.
You tore open the box.
This time, it was a plate of mushroom pizza.
"Oh, that looks delicious." you muttered to yourself, noticing the unusual purple coloring on the crust.
You reached and held a piece of the pizza near your mouth. And without a care, you took a huge bite from the area where the coloring was the brightest.
The following day, Lohen returned to find another note on your doorstep. This time it was more detailed than the last.
---
Observation Log
Low concentration of Aconitum.
Taste profile:
Initial sweet-bitter note.
Followed by burning sensation.
Symptoms:
Numbness.
Dizziness.
Loss of strength.
Conclusion:
Good posion. Easily countered.
Although, I liked the taste of the pizza.
(attached are my other observations)
---
There were six pages attached.
Six.
Lohen stared, flipping through the pages with a smile. "God. She's insane."
This started the exchange of poisons and paper notes.
The next package that Lohen put on your doorstep had a small note of his own.
---
To the Medic
Firstly, fuck you.
Secondly, you missed a secondary ingredient. (Hint : It was Naku weed)
Thirdly, thank you for complimenting the pizza.
I made it myself.
---
Your response appeared the next morning.
---
To the Poisoner
1. Rude.
2. I did not miss the ingredient. Naku weed has no toxic properties. Just color.
3. The posion on the crust was obvious. Are you perhaps new to this poisoning thing?
---
Your responses pissed the Vice captain even more. Because how dare a lowly medic like you have the audacity to critic his cooking?!
He tried even harder after that.
More precise blends. Better masking. Controlled dosages. Carefully calibrated ingredients. Tried perfecting the recipe so you couldn't find any faults.
Everything.
After making sure everything was perfect, he delivered the next package. A plate of Northern Apple Stew.
The reply next day was written in a crumbled paper with messy handwriting.
---
Rules for Future Poisoning
1. No explosive diarrhea.
2. No permanent injury.
3. No organ damage.
4. No blindness.
5. No poisoning children.
6. Food should remain edible
---
Lohen rolled his eyes at the rules. "Killjoy." To him these rules just were unnecessary boundaries that ruined his fun.
But he never wanted to stop this exchange between the two of you. It was much too entertaining for him.
Unknown to him, that night ended with you locking yourself in your room. Having non stop diarrhea for hours.
Soon the notes became longer than the poisons themselves.
One morning, the package you opened had a plate of Cream Stew.
And this time the note attached had a list of ingredients used.
---
Current Theory
The toxin should produce localized muscle weakness.
Estimated duration:
Two hours.
Possible side effects:
Dizziness.
Drowsiness.
Complaining.
Will you be able to guess what I used (Y/N)? °^°?
---
Three days later Lohen received something he could only call a report.
A dossier.
Twenty-two pages which included diagrams, charts, annotated symptom timelines.
And corrections.
So many corrections.
---
Page 14: dosage error.
Page 17: please stop using kitchen spoons as lab tools.
Page 19: “Did you eyeball the concentration?”
---
Unfortunately Lohen had. And he hated that you noticed.
Months passed and somehow it became a routine.
Your medic colleagues grew increasingly worried seeing you drowsy every other day.
"Do you know who keeps sending you poison?" one asked.
You shook your head. "No, not really."
"Shouldn't that concern you?"
You looked confused. "Why?"
"Because they're poisoning you...?"
You blinked. Honestly, if the person wanted to kill you, they could have used other deadly toxins. Yet, they always made sure to use small doses and non lethal ingredients.
You smiled to yourself. "They are very considerate actually."
"... Oh." the medic froze.
You tapped a finger on your cheek. "They also have lovely handwriting."
"..."
The medic walked away. Unable to continue the conversation.
Lohen, meanwhile, was also not doing well.
Varka had his suspicions when he first saw the crazed man laughing while tasting the exotic plants he had ordered.
One day, while Lohen was away on a mission, he broke the lock of his drawer and read through all the papers in there.
Papers about toxic plants. Possible ingredients. And of course, all the notes you had written to him.
He ran a hand through his hair. "What the hell is happening in Mondstadt?"
Varka immediately dragged Lohen by the collar and pushed him into the store you worked in to apologize.
You looked up from your desk and instantly recognized him as your mysterious poisoner.
Not by his face. But by his hands.
The stained fingertips. The chemical burns. The ink marks. The quiet proof of obsession.
"Oh," you smiled softly. "It's you."
Lohen blinked.
Varka shoved him forward. "Apologise to the lady Lohen."
Oh. So his name was Lohen.
The boy looked deeply offended. "I don't want to."
"Apologize." The Grand Master repeated, his gaze cold.
Lohen sighed dramatically. Then glanced toward you. "...Sorry for poisoning you."
You immediately shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. "There is so need for apologies. I should be thanking you actually."
Silence.
Even Varka froze.
You continued, brighter now. "The poisons were genuinely fascinating."
Varka looked horrified.
"I learned to make dozens of new antidotes!"
Lohen stared. Mesmerized.
"Also the toxins were quite creative! Honestly, every morning became something to look forward to."
Varka took a breath, and turned his gaze to the ceiling, perhaps praying to Barbatos why they allowed these two people to exist.
"Also the notes were fun!" you added, opening your drawer and placing a the stack of notes you had carefully stapled.
Lohen wasn't even listening anymore.
Because you were smiling.
At him.
Because of him.
Because he had poisoned you.
It was a stupid conversation. The girl in front of him was grateful for poisoning her. It was reckless, idiotic and yet...
At that moment his heart made some several terrible decisions.
He realised.
With a lot of hesitation...
That-
'Oh.'
'Oh no.'
'You were kinda cute.'
He had known your name for months. Known where you worked. Known your habits. Your favorite medicinal herbs. The way your handwriting became messier when excited.
But seeing you in person? Actually talking to you?
He was finished.
Absolutely in love.
That night he didn't sleep. Instead he sat at his desk surrounded by herbs, powders, vials, and failed formulas, staring at his next experiment like it might hold divine answers.
Most men wrote poetry.
Most men gifted flowers.
Most men confessed.
But Lohen was not most men.
He lifted a vial of deep red liquid, watching it swirl under lamplight with a manic smile. "If she barely liked the last one... I'll just make one that is even better."
And thus began the greatest romantic pursuit in history.
Not through gifts or heartfelt letters.
But through an escalating series of increasingly sophisticated poisons.
Lohen's new life goal was simple.
Create a poison so fascinating, so beautiful so perfect....
That when you tasted it—
You'd fall hopelessly in love with its creator.
Unfortunately for him, the only thing you fell in love with was the chemical composition.
Fin
😭 😭 😭 I CANT WITH THIS GUY. I FEEL LIKE HE'S SOMEONE WHO'D GIFT YOU A BOMB CUZ HE LOVES YOU.
Some of the ingredients used r actually toxic while others r just bs. I tried making it as Canon as possible but I'm sure there r some mistakes. Sorry abt tht.
Anyway! Hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts.
you’re face down on the couch in sae’s madrid apartment, groaning into a pillow that smells like his stupid expensive detergent, when he walks in.
you don’t even hear the door at first because you’re too busy dying dramatically about the email you just got—another deadline moved up, your boss being a bitch, the usual thursday nightmare. you’re muttering curses in three different languages when his shoes appear in your line of vision.
“get up.”
you flip the pillow off your face just enough to glare at him with one eye. “no. i live here now. bury me here.”
he’s still in his training kit, hair damp, cheeks a little flushed from the cold outside. he looks annoyingly good, as usual. he crouches down so you’re eye level, expression flat as ever.
“we leave in four hours.”
you blink. “leave for where? the kitchen? because i’m not cooking, you can starve.”
“maldives.”
you sit up so fast you almost headbutt him. “what?”
he pulls two tickets out of his jacket pocket and flicks them onto your lap like he’s tossing you junk mail. first class, malé departure tonight. your name is already printed next to his.
you stare at the tickets. then at him. then back at the tickets.
“sae. be serious.”
“i am.”
“you can’t just—maldives? like the actual maldives? overwater bungalow, turquoise water, instagram aesthetic maldives?”
he shrugs. “you kept sending me those reels last month. the ones with the stupid fish and the swings in the water. you said, and i quote, ‘i would sell my kidney to wake up there.’”
you did say that. you were crying over a video of a stingray because they’re faces are just so cute.
“so you… booked it?”
“yes.”
“without telling me?”
“surprises are supposed to be surprises.”
you’re still holding the tickets like they might disappear. “sae, i have work tomorrow. i have a 9 am call. i don’t even have a swimsuit here that isn’t from 2019.”
he stands up, already walking toward the bedroom. “i packed for you last night. your stuff’s in the black suitcase.”
you follow him on autopilot. sure enough, there’s a suitcase by the door you’ve never seen before, tag already on it, your passport in the front pocket like this is normal.
“you went through my underwear drawer?”
“you own too many cartoon patterns. i left the kuromi ones.”
you’re going to combust. “how long have you been planning this?”
“three weeks.”
“three weeks?! and you didn’t say anything?”
he glances back, one eyebrow raised. “you cry when you’re excited. i didn’t want to deal with it for three weeks.”
fair. but still.
you launch yourself at him, arms around his neck, legs kicking. he catches you without staggering, hands automatically going to your thighs like this is routine.
“you’re insane,” you mumble into his shoulder. “i love you so much i’m actually mad at you.”
“noted.” his voice is muffled in your hair. “shower. we leave soon.”
the flight is eleven hours and he doesn’t sleep the whole time, just watches three movies in a row and chibi maruko-chan and let’s you have his desert because it “ruins” his diet.
you wake up somewhere over the indian ocean with his hoodie over you like a blanket and his hand resting on your thigh, thumb moving in slow circles.
when you land in malé it’s already dark, but the air smells like salt and flowers and freedom. a private speedboat takes you to the resort—some insane place with glass floors and an infinity pool that drops straight into the ocean.
your villa is literally in the middle of the sea, stairs leading directly into the water.
you stand on the deck screaming quietly (because it’s 2 am and you don’t want to scare anyone) while sae leans against the railing, arms crossed, watching you like you’re a particularly entertaining documentary.
“this is disgusting,” you say, spinning in circles. “this is obscene. how much did this cost?”
“don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”
you run and jump on him again. he lets you. he always lets you.
the next morning you wake up to sunlight on water so clear it looks photoshopped. sae’s side of the bed is empty, but you hear the shower running. you’re halfway through stealing his tshirt when he walks out, towel low on his hips, hair dripping.
“morning,” he says.
“morning, person who kidnapped me to paradise.”
you spend the day doing absolutely nothing. you swim until your fingers prune. you make him snorkel even though he complains the mask is “uncomfortable” and then spend twenty minutes floating while pointing out every fish like you’re david attenborough.
“that one’s a parrotfish,” you says, voice muffled by the snorkel. those national geographic days paying off.
“a what?”
later you’re on the deck swing, legs in the water, when he comes up behind you with two cocktails that are 90% fruit and 10% alcohol.
“drink.”
“trying to get me drunk, itoshi?”
“you’re louder when you’re tipsy. it’s funny.”
you kick water at him. he doesn’t even flinch.
night falls and the staff lights lanterns all around the villa. you’re sunburnt and happy, lying on the outdoor daybed staring at the stars when he sits down next to you, still in his black swim trunks, hair salty and messy.
you roll onto your side to look at him. “why’d you really do this?”
he doesn’t answer right away. just looks out at the water, the reflection of the moon broken into a million pieces.
“you were tired,” he says finally. “you stopped laughing. you always laugh.”
your chest feels too small for your heart.
“sae.”
“hm?”
“i’m laughing now.”
he turns his head. the lantern light catches the side of his face, makes his eyes look almost soft.
“good,” he says. then quieter, “don’t stop.”
you crawl into his lap, knees on either side of his hips, hands in his damp hair.
“thank you,” you whisper against his mouth.
he kisses you slow, lazy, tasting like pineapple and salt. one hand on your waist, the other sliding up your back.
“you’re annoying when you’re happy,” he mutters.
“you like it.”
“shut up.”
it’s enough.
(later, when you’re half asleep tangled in sheets that probably cost more than your rent, he says into your hair, voice so quiet you almost miss it—
“stay happy.”
you pretend you didn’t hear so he doesn’t get embarrassed.
but you hold him a little tighter and he lets you.)
I currently don't take requests due to schedules + work.
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I write for gn and fem reader! I have written for male reader before, but not often.
There will be lots of random posts/reblogs of different fandoms & types of medias.
My asks inbox is broken currently, I won't be able to reply to any asks/anons nor interact via inbox..
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DREAMING OF GOJO SATORU TELLING YOU TO "breathe," yet he brushes the strands of your hair out of your face, he dares you to breathe—but you can't, not when he's this close. Not when he's about to kiss you like this, how could you breathe so easily when he keeps stealing your breath away?
"Calm down, baby." his airy laughs fan your face and you don't know where else to look—not in this dark cramped room.
Just why did you play this game? with this man—the insufferable man, and your opinion won't change.
Those glowing eyes of his that flicker in this dark space glowers down at your nervous form—he thinks for a second, that you're so unbelievably adorable. "Stop moving, will ya?" lowering his head to bump your shoulder, he leans on you—shuffling to separate your intertwined legs.
But despite his words you move—a foreign noise falling from his lips and his hands immediately fly to your waist, cementing you in place—"It's not a challenge, sweetheart." if it were any different situation, you'd think he was still flirting.
"A mans self control can only go so far," he whispers in your ear, white soft locks of his tickling your cheeks and your cheeks flared red—he almost hoped there was a bit of light to see.
He heaves a breath, but he feels like he didn't; he couldn't. "I'm no different," his voice comes off raspy, this daring hand of his hovers above the side of your neck, pressing firmly—"Tell me to stop, yeah?"
and his lips captures yours in a chaste kiss, slow and fast as it started—leaving you longing, chasing for the taste of more. Just as he intended, if he'd take it further—just a little more than maybe..
"ah-ah." but his actions differ from what he implied not a moment before, eyes hovering to his index finger pressed to your plump lips—the softness, hesitant nibble you do that drives him insane—he takes in a shaky breath, "You're sensible enough not to brave what you can't take, aren't you?"
IMAGINE GOJO SATORU TELLING YOU TO "breathe," yet he brushes the strands of your hair out of your face, he dares you to breathe—but you can't, not when he's this close. Not when he's about to kiss you like this, how could you breathe so easily when he keeps stealing your breath away?
"Calm down, baby." his airy laughs fan your face and you don't know where else to look—not in this dark cramped room.
Just why did you play this game? with this man—the insufferable man, and your opinion won't change.
Those glowing eyes of his that flicker in this dark space glowers down at your nervous form—he thinks for a second, that you're so unbelievably adorable. "Stop moving, will ya?" lowering his head to bump your shoulder, he leans on you—shuffling to separate your intertwined legs.
But despite his words you move—a foreign noise falling from his lips and his hands immediately fly to your waist, cementing you in place—"It's not a challenge, sweetheart." if it were any different situation, you'd think he was still flirting.
"A mans self control can only go so far," he whispers in your ear, white soft locks of his tickling your cheeks and your cheeks flared red—he almost hoped there was a bit of light to see.
He heaves a breath, but he feels like he didn't; he couldn't. "I'm no different," his voice comes off raspy, this daring hand of his hovers above the side of your neck, pressing firmly—"Tell me to stop, yeah?"
and his lips captures yours in a chaste kiss, slow and fast as it started—leaving you longing, chasing for the taste of more. Just as he intended, if he'd take it further—just a little more than maybe..
"ah-ah." but his actions differ from what he implied not a moment before, eyes hovering to his index finger pressed to your plump lips—the softness, hesitant nibble you do that drives him insane—he takes in a shaky breath, "You're sensible enough not to brave what you can't take, aren't you?"
Seriously, the things you do to him.
Little drabble gift 4u! I'm back, though maybe not permanently.. but I might post some snippets & oneshots.
ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ — prof. noi / nhoi. any prns, filipino ! not usually online, more of reader than author, posts in random intervals. Book Collector + Greek mythology
❝She's mine. When she truly blossoms, she'll be stunning. I'm sure of it.❞ — Caleb, Endless Summer
❝Every version of me... belongs to you, and only you.❞ — Xavier, 21 Days
❝I brought the one I love home. Let's keep swimming like this... Until the sea itself turns into a beautiful pink.❞ — Rafayel, Boundless Seas
❝I want to spend the next decade with you.❞ — Zayne, Everlasting Wish
❝If you were also an art piece, then whoever created you... must have loved you dearly.❞ — Sylus, Magnum Opus
GOJO SATORU is not a patient man, especially when he's kept long time away from you.
'I miss you,' 13:42
your phone dings with a message you've been anticipating all this while, all this afternoon you spent fidgeting in place; waiting for something, or well—someone.
'i'll come home soon.' 13:43
the message rings out from a sender that was no other than your lover—GOJO SATORU, who seems to have been impatient at work; he's been gone for less than an hour, though you couldn't blame him when you felt the same.
'I want to be with you." 13:43 — not even two seconds later, your phone gets bombarded with messages.
Often it would be like this when he's gone, busy with exorcising curses.. hours to days of no contact, to sudden barrages of messages come in endless downpour; you couldn't even begin to count how many times he'd say — 'I want to come home.' every time, and every moment he has.
its silly, how he makes the butterflies burst in your stomach. You wonder how he feels so near when he's so far—perhaps distance really does make the heart grow fonder.
'Hey, don't leave me on read!' 13:45
At his reminder, you can't help but imagine him saying this. Bickering about your imprudence to dare leave him on read, you quickly tap away at your phone.
—'take care of yourself,' wouldn't be much too cliche to say right..? should you be adding anything more? it felt like your message was too short, maybe you should throw in a—'ill wait for you.' too, in there.
.. okay maybe too much—you internally cringe at your own words, attempting to delete the message.
Though unfortunately, your finger slips to press send a bit too hastily, not even given a chance to delete the message when he's seen it in a heartbeat; you could only close your eyes and pray he wouldn't tease it out of you all day, he wouldn't let you live this down.
at long last—your phone dings and you couldn't help the curiosity, peeking reluctantly at what he had to say.
'I don't think I can wait.' 13:50
but you could guess he probably won't be able to come home tonight; he probably has a lot to finish, he wont be home anytime soon..
so.. that makes you wonder, during this time of night—just when you were about to close your eyes..
"who.." Theres sudden motion, noise of shuffling before the sheets slowly dip and you sink into the softness of the bed. Although your eye lips felt heavy, you peel open your eyes—the blurred figure of a man answers with his voice, "Are you asleep yet?" he—the familiar voice of a man you've been waiting for all day, whispers in your ear.
He hovers above you, leaning over so much that the bed creaks, "Don't sleep on me, sweetheart." he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, another one to your neck—till he littered your body, every inch of your skin his lips could find; his lips latches on to you, as if a leech.
and one last time, he presses a long kiss to the side of your lips—as if asking for you to wake up through your groggy state of mind.
"keep your pretty eyes open for me, will ya?"
through your hazy vision, you could make out that charming smile of his that you've engraved into your mind—the image of a man you love so dearly, your heart treasures so.
and you know he loves you too—just as much.
your phone dings with his last text you never got to read before he came home—
'I love you.' 24:59
your impatient lover probably couldn't wait another day to come home, not when you were waiting for him—not when he'd miss your welcome greeting, not when he still hadn't kissed you goodnight.
and god, that was all he could always think of when you're not in his moment of sight.
'I'm coming home.' 00:09
how unfortunate, that the moment you wake in the morning after, you would never get the chance to read this message.
I don't know why but when he said he sampled the water of Qiaoying Village I just imagined him lapping it up on all fours when no one was looking so I doodled this up 💀💀
GOJO SATORU is not a patient man, especially when he's kept long time away from you.
'I miss you,' 13:42
your phone dings with a message you've been anticipating all this while, all this afternoon you spent fidgeting in place; waiting for something, or well—someone.
'i'll come home soon.' 13:43
the message rings out from a sender that was no other than your lover—GOJO SATORU, who seems to have been impatient at work; he's been gone for less than an hour, though you couldn't blame him when you felt the same.
'I want to be with you." 13:43 — not even two seconds later, your phone gets bombarded with messages.
Often it would be like this when he's gone, busy with exorcising curses.. hours to days of no contact, to sudden barrages of messages come in endless downpour; you couldn't even begin to count how many times he'd say — 'I want to come home.' every time, and every moment he has.
its silly, how he makes the butterflies burst in your stomach. You wonder how he feels so near when he's so far—perhaps distance really does make the heart grow fonder.
'Hey, don't leave me on read!' 13:45
At his reminder, you can't help but imagine him saying this. Bickering about your imprudence to dare leave him on read, you quickly tap away at your phone.
—'take care of yourself,' wouldn't be much too cliche to say right..? should you be adding anything more? it felt like your message was too short, maybe you should throw in a—'ill wait for you.' too, in there.
.. okay maybe too much—you internally cringe at your own words, attempting to delete the message.
Though unfortunately, your finger slips to press send a bit too hastily, not even given a chance to delete the message when he's seen it in a heartbeat; you could only close your eyes and pray he wouldn't tease it out of you all day, he wouldn't let you live this down.
at long last—your phone dings and you couldn't help the curiosity, peeking reluctantly at what he had to say.
'I don't think I can wait.' 13:50
but you could guess he probably won't be able to come home tonight; he probably has a lot to finish, he wont be home anytime soon..
so.. that makes you wonder, during this time of night—just when you were about to close your eyes..
"who.." Theres sudden motion, noise of shuffling before the sheets slowly dip and you sink into the softness of the bed. Although your eye lips felt heavy, you peel open your eyes—the blurred figure of a man answers with his voice, "Are you asleep yet?" he—the familiar voice of a man you've been waiting for all day, whispers in your ear.
He hovers above you, leaning over so much that the bed creaks, "Don't sleep on me, sweetheart." he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, another one to your neck—till he littered your body, every inch of your skin his lips could find; his lips latches on to you, as if a leech.
and one last time, he presses a long kiss to the side of your lips—as if asking for you to wake up through your groggy state of mind.
"keep your pretty eyes open for me, will ya?"
through your hazy vision, you could make out that charming smile of his that you've engraved into your mind—the image of a man you love so dearly, your heart treasures so.
and you know he loves you too—just as much.
your phone dings with his last text you never got to read before he came home—
'I love you.' 24:59
your impatient lover probably couldn't wait another day to come home, not when you were waiting for him—not when he'd miss your welcome greeting, not when he still hadn't kissed you goodnight.
and god, that was all he could always think of when you're not in his moment of sight.
'I'm coming home.' 00:09
how unfortunate, that the moment you wake in the morning after, you would never get the chance to read this message.
