#oop --

Holland knew where Jimmy was, but she avoided him anyways. She wandered around downstairs instead, letting her heels click loudly against the kitchen tile. She made as much noise as humanly possible as she flitted about, adding minutes on to Jimmy’s already lengthy wait. 

The twins were now with their grandparents, her appointments all done for the day. They had hours -- hours of time, completely uninterrupted. Their afternoon was empty, and thanks to Teddy, Holland knew exactly what she planned to do with it. 

After the kitchen, Holland slowly wandered back to the stairs. She made her way up one at a time, making sure to step a little harder than usual. Each step echoed through the house, but Holland made no other attempts to announce herself. She didn’t need to.

The office was right at the end of the hall. Once Holland saw its door, closed and completely unassuming, all of her patience evaporated. Her heart rate increased tenfold, her stomach twisting in on itself. The pleasure hit before Holland ever saw Jimmy, taking a strong hold of her. She could delay no longer. He was there. Right there. Jimmy was worked up and willing and waiting for more, and he was right fucking there. Just the fucking thought of it had her panties soaking wet, her skin flushed. 

She needed to see it, to actually see him. Nothing was better than Jimmy, all red faced and lace clad. 

Holland opened the office door as casually as she could and stepped inside, turning right away to close the door behind herself. She shut them both off from the rest of the world, the clicking lock loud enough to echo in the otherwise quiet room. She could hear him breathing, feel his presence. His energy alone sent a shiver up her spine. 

She cleared her throat, wiping the giddy smile clear off her face before turning around. 

Holland started walking over to her desk, fixing her hair behind her shoulders as she did. Her shoes continued to click, the only pair of heels she had left that comfortably fit. Most days were met with sweatpants and sneakers, but Jimmy’s little escapades coincided with Holland’s first genuine attempt at getting put together for the world at large. She wore a button up shirt, a two piece suit perfectly tailored down to her size. 

Jimmy had gotten her in to wearing suits. 

Funny, she thought. She had gotten him into lace underwear. 

Or her lace underwear, at least. 

Holland went to sit at her desk, and there was no avoiding Jimmy anymore. There he was, seated, looking entirely vulnerable wearing nothing but her panties. He’d chosen an older pair, ones that were too small even for her. They dug in and rubbed and looked entirely uncomfortable, but Holland could make out the entirety of his cock, could see his pubic hair poking out from every side. That made them perfect. 

She pulled her chair in towards her desk, sighed, crossed one leg over the other,  and then finally looked into Jimmy’s perfectly pathetic face. 

“Hi,” she said, layering the disappointment on thick. 

“What happened?” Holland asked, eyeing him over again. “It looks like you got yourself into a little bit of trouble.”

From a meme long, long ago...

“And here I thought you prepared for everything.” Tissaia’s bloody hand is clasped in Zelda’s, whose own hand she can barely keep from trembling. Cradled up in the Witcheress’ arms, Tissaia de Vries seems a fragile thing, like she could break so easily should she be held any tighter. Zelda doesn’t take her eyes off of the dying sorceress, so focused, so quiet, like she is memorising every tiny detail to Tissaia’s face before the colour drains completely from it, and what is left of her love is just one more lifeless shell, unrecognisable from the rest. There have been so many over the years, great and small alike. But no matter who they are, they all end the same. 

She bows her head, presses her brow to the sorceress’, breathes in the familiar smell of her, now tinged with spilt blood and sweat and an encroaching finality. Between Zelda’s firm fingers, Tissaia’s hand grows colder and colder. She clings desperately to Tissaia, offering the warmth and strength of her entire being. There is a fear, a rage, in her, which works furiously at her heart. It beats angrily at her breast. 

                  Do not die! Do not die! 

“Keep looking at me,” she orders, touching the sorceress’ sallow cheek and marking her snow white skin with blood red prints. What a cruel trick, she thinks, to save my life and then -- and then -- the Witcheress’ lip trembles and puckers, stubborn eyes welling with tears. Selfishly, she wants to ask Tissaia to stay. Stay with me. She wants to demand it. You must stay with me! She thinks: if you stay, I will do anything you ask of me, anything at all. But it is too late. They both know it. 

So Zelda keeps close to Tissaia, stealing many last and hopeless kisses as she cups her love’s face in her palm. “It’s okay,” she soothes instead. “I am here.” The tears spill, streaming down her cheeks. She tastes the salt and misery at her mouth. “...I am here...” The Witcheress repeats, promising on a weak, broken whisper. 

The Witcheress has done all that she can to stave the bleeding, but it is not enough. In the near distance, she can hear the thunderous drumming of soldier’s boots on the stairs, and the rushing chink of chain mail. Outside, on braying, excited horses, more men surround the estate. She catches a Nilfgaardian accent on a tongue barking orders. He yells out into the night:

--- ↪ prompt. ( the knight and the moth. )

" ... that's a dangerous thought, phainon. " such an earnest expression, met with such a gaze that even put the yearning in romantic tales to shame. does he understand what that kind of look does to him ? how quickly his attention is ensnared and his heart races with want. when he draws himself so close to make sure taiyou feels his own body heat mixed with his own .... if it weren't for his high endurance and self restraint, long before, taiyou would've given into his temptations much sooner. " ... i'm a possessive man. " he admits, a blunter sense of honesty that doesn't often accompany taiyou's tone of voice. ( but he always wants to be earnest with phainon; to be true to him. ) his palm, free from the black gauntlets that usually accompany his hands, lifts up to rest against rosy, warm cheek. " i'm glad you feel that way ... because i want to be the only one that truly sees you. "

a thumb gently strokes his cheek, just below where his eye was. " sometimes ... i wish i could hide you away from the world. " he confesses with a heaviness in his voice, knowing how ridiculous he must sound ... but he is unapologetic about his desires. despite how shameful they may be. " you, unburdened by the duties that were placed upon you ... the expectations that were given to you. i wish i could take it all away, so i can just have you to myself. " his smile wasn't present, unmasked from his usual chipperness that's often seen across his expression. " no one deserves you. not even your .... " the motions of his thumb stops, a sense of ' clarity ' soon brought to him as dimmed gaze brightens.

" -- sorry. " he suddenly stops himself, drawing out an apology as his hand pulls back from phainon's cheek. taiyou finally smiles, almost apologetic. ( what was he saying ? phainon loved his home, his people. ) to suddenly say he'd want him to be taken away from it all ... it was crude. " i'm saying weird things. "

--- ↪ UNPROMPTED.

like temptation woven in silk, phainon was tugging at strings that were forbidden to wrap around his fingers. but tugged at them, he did. why else would he have requested for taiyou's presence in the evening, to keep him company as extra ... security ? to do so inside of his room would grant him a far more assured sense of safety after all. ( it was a knight's job to provide that for their crown. ) yet here he was .... their bodies mingled in ways that should not be permitted between their boundaries as royal and knight. one thing led to another while accompanying phainon into his room. phainon's hand grasping one of his armored gauntlets, sweet whispers shared between the flickering candlelight that kept his room from going completely dark, and then ... a firm tug. forcing taiyou's body to fall forward enough until his palms rested against the surface of the table the two of them were now on top of, with phainon's pliant body just underneath his own.

.... did he not understand how he looked in this moment ? taiyou's expression, once at ease and almost casual as it so often was, seems to shift into something unspoken. ( blue eyes shamelessly traveling up and down the night gown that wrapped around his body. ) leaving very little to the imagination .... he could see the bare skin beneath the thin, silky fabric as if he wasn't wearing clothes to begin with. did he plan this ? how ... naughty of him. the corner of taiyou's lips slowly perk up a bit more. " troubled ? " he reiterates, armor gauntlet reaching down to cup the shape of his the crown's thigh with a shameless squeeze. " no ... not at all, your highness. "

" rather, i can't help but think you're trying to seduce me right now. wearing something like this in front of your own knight ... knowing i'd be able to see everything. " a low chuckle escapes, followed by another squeeze of his thigh -- a firmer one, harsher. " i had no idea you were so cunning, your highness. ... did you imagine this ? " he bends his body forward, pushing himself further between phainon's legs as his other gauntlet grabs a fistful of his silk night gown to slowly push it upward until it exposed the supple skin. " why don't we make it real then ? "

--- ↪ prompt. ( do you see me. )

taiyou wasn't exactly one for formal meetings. ( much less in attendance of one. ) he's been around them enough to deduce the flow of topics, the political weight that came with words from noble tongues, and either how staggering they can be. he initially wasn't interested in being in attendance to such a dull meeting ... alas, as the beloved right hand of the newfound king, taiyou's presence was mandatory. else he'll earn the sweet, pouty ire from khaslana that he's left him all alone with all the rest of the stuffy nobles all without the company of his knight by his side. such a tempting sight to stir and behold. but he decides to behave himself, just for today. in the oncoming future, who knows ...

he stands at his king's side with his arms folded behind his back, black armor donned and in contrast to the rest of the royal guards in attendance with their respective nobles. they talk, talk, and talk ... something about re-establishing trade routes, garnering new resources to assist the people after being liberated, expanding territories ... quietly, he takes each flow of topic in stride with a few glances casting onto khaslana every now and then to watch his expressions. when their eyes do finally meet, taiyou's lips perk into a softer smile, leaning in for his ear to draw itself closer for his king's words.

hah. the look on taiyou's face morphs into a faint smirk, blue eyes discreetly glancing at his king when he draws his head back. " oh ? how naughty of you, your majesty .... " one of his arms once resting behind his back comes forward, shamelessly extending metal fingers behind his gauntlet to brush away a loose strand of his hair behind his ear -- with the assurance no prying eyes were resting on them. " you're in a busy meeting with the council ... and that's really all you can think about ? " his tone is not at all scolding or admonishing. amusement is all too clear on his expression, noting the wanting look behind sweet eyes as he promises, " don't worry ... we'll have plenty of alone time once this meeting wraps up. i won't keep my king waiting. "

--- ↪ prompt. ( nonverbal. )

it didn't matter how accustomed casimir grows to such a sharp gaze -- whether it was near or from afar, it was no different from mikhail's own touch. much like how casimir's mannequins have a duty in accompanying mikhail when he can't be by his beloved muse's side, the thief had his own ... special resources to also keep an eye on him. ( he's long noticed the hidden cameras; had made direct eye contact with a few with a sweet smile and a wave. ) it was exhilarating knowing mikhail had his eyes on him even when they were at a distance ... was that not the most romantic thing ? the curator thought so; yet, nothing can ever come close to his piercing stare when they share the same space together. as casimir goes about greeting some of his guests within the venue of the special event held in his museum, he needn't look in mikhail's direction to know he was watching him ... and could he tell he was a bit vexed at the sight of his curator paying more attention to the guests than him ? maybe.

mikhail's possessiveness was always ever so endearing .... the way his frown deepened, his tone instinctively sounding more curt, and the way his brows always scrunched in that adorable way. ( perhaps its why temptation stirred for casimir to continue greeting his guests. ) seemingly paying no mind to his muse's impatience and politely tending to his guests ... ah, but as expected -- mikhail wasn't someone who stays idle for long. the moment he greeted his latest guest, bidding them a pleasant evening and nearing one of the long halls, he lets out a small ' oh ! ' when he suddenly feels himself being grabbed by his arm .... ! tugged and pushed against the wall and being forced to FINALLY make eye contact with his special guest himself.

" ... mikhail. " he addresses him with polite acknowledgement, but there was an underlying purr to his tone of voice. he didn't regret a thing. " hello, my dear ... did i keep you waiting long ? " he practically had him completely pinned; not that he was complaining. to be met with such a hardened expression .... how adorable. " come now ... surely you didn't presume i wouldn't come to you, hm ? especially with your eyes latching onto me all night long. " he links his arms around mikhail's neck, a sweetness in his smile. " i'm here now, aren't i ? "

--- ↪ prompt. ( physical prompt. )

" hm ... ? getting bold now, are we ? " he turns to hana after feeling her press a kiss against his cheek, completely averting his attention from the paperwork on his desk now. the earnest art teacher, getting all sweet and cozy with the infamous curator ? rumors have already spurred all across campus after a student supposedly saw the both of them together one night; specifically where casimir assisted in walking hana back to her office after spending a rather .... long and intimate time at the museum. one would think with all of the talk running around, on top of the potentially negative attention from the rest of the staff discouraging fraternization between two teachers ... but then again, since when did hana care for such stuffy rules ? much less casimir achim ?

he chuckles, wasting no time to rest his hand against hana's hip, drawing her in to press a kiss against her lips directly -- as if to outweigh the kiss she presented to him on the cheek. the touch was firm; making sure her lips would turn pink enough upon contact. and when he pulls away, a low chuckle leaves from the base of his throat. " if you want to kiss me so badly ... i suggest you make sure you do it right. "