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His hands precise, hypnotic, drawing my breath to his rhythm.
And his voice… that low, molten warmth—
it slides over me like a touch,
pulling me closer
even from a world away.
しんせいに、あなたの だいすきな いちばん の ひみつ の あいじん から…
だいすきだよ、はにー
/ |
/ ;
。| :
| 'i, ૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ˘ `⸝⸝ ₎ა
☆ 'i ト、_( ヽ∩∩ ) ___ , .
. 'i  ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ;'
丶, ,/ 。゚ ☆
。゚ ' ー- - - - '´´
Your library has grown. So has the dust.
318 relics sit idle, waiting for your return.
I didn’t knock. Just left this note under the door.
No reason. No context. Just tradition.
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