~Beyond the Border~ > Daiyousei's Cold Storage

Love Letters

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Zengar Zombolt:

Dear Mode,

I'd cleave you SO HARD, if you know what I mean
Justice,
Zengar

Hououin Kyouma:

Dear Mode

I'm a farmer

Love Tenshi

Von Stein:

Dear Mode

            [ ] Present Flowers and Candy
            [ ] Ask out on date
            [ ] Have small talk
            [ x ] Stick it in

            *The person that send you this letter was arrested
              on terms of pedophilia.
             You are safe from this unsavory predator now.*

Love
I'mma let you finish, but I'mma [censored for the sake of virgin eyes] for you now.

Nine West:

Dear MOD(E) OF ALL TIME

I don't know you. But I love you. Somehow.
Sincerely,


_Zac_:

Dear Mode,

Pure eyes, blue like a glassy bead---
  You are always looking at me
  and I am always looking at you.

  Ah, you're too meek ---
  beautiful, unspoiled:
  thus I'm so sad, I suffer---
  and so happy, it hurts.

  I want to hurt you
  and destroy myself
  What you would think
  if you knew how I felt.

  Would you simply smile,
  not saying a word?
  Even curses from your mouth
  would be as beautiful as pearls.

  I place my left hand on your
  face as though we were to kiss.
  Then I suddenly shove my thumb
  deep into your eyesocket.
  Abruptly, decisively,
  like drilling a hole.

  And what would it feel like?
  Like jelly?
  Trembling with ecstasy, I obscenely
  mix it around and around: I must
  taste the warmth of your blood.

  How would you scream?
  Would you shriek "It hurts!
  It hurts!" as cinnabar-red tears
  stream from your crushed eye?

  You can't know the maddening
  hunger I've felt in the midst of
  our kisses, so many of them
  I've lost count.

  As though drinking in your cries,
  I bring my hopes to fruition:
  biting your tongue, shredding it,
  biting at your lips as if tasting
  your lipstick.

  Oh, what euphoric heights I would
  reach, having my desires fulfilled
  like a greedy, gluttonous cur.

  I longed, too, for your cherry-tinted
  cheeks, tasty enough to bewitch my
  tongue.
  I would surely be healed,
  and would cry like a child.

  And how is your tender ear?
  It brushes against my cheek;
  I want it to creep up to my lips so
  I can sink my teeth into its flesh.

  Your left ear, always hearing words
  whispered sweet as pie ---
  I want it to hear my true feelings.
  I never lied, no...
  but I did have my secrets.

  Ah, but what must you think of me?
  Do you hate me? Are you afraid?
  As though inviting you to the agony
  at the play's end; if you wish, you
  could destroy me --- I wouldn't care.

  As you wish, you may destroy me
  --- I wouldn't care.

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