#light in a nocturnal world

[robertmatejcek]

Tableaux Automatique: LPs  - 1″:1′-0″ diorama (still) - mixed media - robert matejcek - 2023

Mark: “Empire Records, open 'till midnight. This is Mark.” Caller: *Inaudible Dialogue* Mark: “MIDNIGHT!"

- Ethan Embry - Empire Records

tags:

[gayhenrycreel]

something i want to see more of in scifi is the blurring of the line between person and animal.

anything humans do can be found elsewhere in the animal kingdom. some wasps use electricity to warm their babies. termites have air ventilation. parrots have toes that can work almost like a thumb. recent studies show that at least some dolphins and whales are capable of a degree of language (though its very different from human language).

humans are just animals that have a lucky combination of thumbs and complex language capabilities. other animals have mental abilities better than humans, because different animals have different brains. we might be better at language, but elephants have better memory capacity.

even our behaviours are not that unique. chimps can have rudimentary wars. some animals, such as orcas, have fashion trends. fire hawks may not be able to create fire, but they still use it as a tool.

a person is simply a type of animal that we can understand and communicate with. this might offend some, but thats just because so many humans believe themselves to have won evolution. we are still evolving. evolution never stops.

hypothetically, if it were discovered that dolphins are capable of complex language, that would mean they are non human people. they obviously have a different psychology, but if we could communicate with them, like we do with other humans, there would be no reason to still see them as not people.

i would love to read a story about humans learning that other species may just have different intelligence rather than less intelligence. intelligence is a social construct, so how would we react if another species, alien or not, could prove us wrong about everything?

[randomkposts]

K:- Death note had world War 3 but not 911!

What would that look like in the persona verse? I'm thinking World War 3 would have probably led to SMT 1 in that universe. 

E:-What? 

What the fuck! 

What do you mean ww3!?

K:- I don't always take expanded universe as full Canon, but the no 911 would explain  a lot about the airplanes in season 2. Like I doubt any of the airplane shenanigans would have happened in a world with 911, due to all the security. Does this mean Kira canceled 911? 

L could have cancled 911 too, would need to check timelines.

Can't seem to link the reblogs I want. Annoying. Will have to just look through notes for now.

E:-What the fuck! The fuck! Is this the twilight zone? This is worldbuilding!

K:-What would an SMT death note fusion look like anyways?

E:-I dunno timelines are hard now HARDER. 

K:-Would DNMT look like some sort of wild west, where there is no justice, only rules of the district leader? 

It's hard to merge the post apoplectic world with the sort of justice they want to uphold? 

Maybe Nocturne esque? Each Kira and L carrying a diffrent reason? Demidfeind Matsuda? I should probably finish it before I decide that.

[howdoesone]

How does one teach an Aye-aye to play the guitar with that long middle finger?

  Introduction to the Aye-Aye: The Rock Star of the Lemur World The Aye-Aye, a nocturnal lemur native to Madagascar, is one of the quirkiest creatures in the animal kingdom. With its large eyes, bat-like ears, and most notably, its elongated middle finger, the Aye-Aye is as fascinating as it is peculiar. This middle finger is primarily used to tap on trees to find insects, but what if we could…

[planariaareneat]

How The Nocturnal Bottleneck and Nipples Make Us Human

Almost every post here considers what humans do have, really. It’s a little tiring; realistically every world has its harsh environments and vicious species and a sophont to match. We probably wouldn’t be unique for our adaptability or our persistence or even adrenaline

But our evolution is fucked up as hell, to put it lightly.

Mammals went through what’s been dubbed the nocturnal bottleneck essentially since the start of the mesozoic right up until the Cretaceous ended the archosaur’s exclusive hold over the daylight. We lost a lot of things from every mammal spending most of its time in either a cramped, suffocating burrow or scrounging around in the faint hours of nighttime. Our blood cells lost their nuclei to hold more oxygen while we spent time deep underground, we lost protections against ultraviolet rays in our skin and eyes, we can’t even repair our own DNA using the light of the sun. Most aliens probably wouldn’t have such traits unless their evolution followed a very similar path to ours. They’d be able to see ultraviolet and wouldn’t have to worry about sunburn and all the wonderful privileges essentially all fish, birds, amphibians, and reptiles enjoy as we speak. 

There’s also what we gained from spending so much time in the dark.

Brown fat is only found in mammals, it’s a special type of fat which bear cells with several oil droplets and are utterly jammed with mitochondria. This lets it make heat, a lot of it, fast. We don’t even need to shiver to induce this heat generation from brown adipose tissue - factor in our downright hyperactive mitochondria, and we can warm up quickly. Sure, it doesn’t have too much use in adult humans, but it keeps our infants warm and still provides a little boost the whole run we have in this universe.

Unless aliens also went through a time where their small ancestors had to face cold nights, they’d have to produce heat the old fashioned way when chilled. Aliens might have to shiver the whole time they’re in a cold room while the human watches in confusion, quite literally unshaken, and wonders if the room is a lot colder than the thermostat set to 60 says. The aliens stare at their companion in confusion, it’s just a normal temperature to shiver at after all, how is the human sitting so still?

Our small ancestors spending all their time out foraging at night is also why we have such a good sense of touch, smell, and hearing. They were more important senses than vision (we’re lucky to have even redeveloped basic color vision, frankly) at the time and place and simply ended up continuing to serve us well. Birds and reptiles rarely have acute senses of smell and the latter especially are lucky to have acute hearing, and birds rarely have impeccable hearing themselves either. Our skin is free of scales and honed to sensitivity, and our external ears and complicated ear bones provide an immense range of hearing (from 20 all the way to 17,000 hertz!).

Aliens might not be able to pin down the chirp of a cricket or the light click of a lock being picked. The human might be the only one on board a ship that can pick out the finer sounds of the engine’s constant thrum and know the critical difference between when everything is fine and when something is wrong. The human could probably pick out the sounds of an approaching enemy’s careless footsteps - they’re only as light enough for *them* to stop hearing them, after all - and be the one to see the horrified expression (well, more on that later) on their face when we get the drop on them in spite of their perceived stealth. 

But perhaps the most versatile, convoluted, amazing, and utterly unique trait we have is right on your face this instant. Lips.

Lips in most animals are a simple seal to hold in the mouth’s moisture and protect the teeth, even if they’re supple they’re NEVER muscular except in mammals, and we have only one thing to thank for it; milk and nipples. Lips evolved exclusively to allow babies to suckle, it required a vacuum to be created in the mouth, and with no other animal having anything like a nipple it never happened in other animals. Many animals make milk, to be frank, but no other animal has nipples.

Your cheeks and lips are a marvel among tetrapods, no other animal can suck like mammals can. Aliens wouldn’t have straws or even be able to sip from the edge of a glass, they’d have to have a proboscis or simply tilt the whole thing back. Aliens likely won’t have woodwind instruments or balloons you can blow into. We take so much about our lips for granted. Hell, our muscular faces are vital for expressions, we’re probably absolute facial contortionists among a cast of creatures with mandibles and beaks and expressionless scaly maws. Aliens might find us ridiculously easy to read, if anything, compared to their own kind (all the better to deceive them) - or perhaps they’d find us hard to decipher anyways, with our lack of color-changing skin or erectable crests of bright feathers. Baring teeth might not be seen as a sign of aggression in most of the universe, smiling would be all too distinctly human. 

Perhaps with how infectious we are sometimes, that’s what we’d contribute to the universe; others might have to make do with opening their mouths just enough to show their teeth or splaying their innumerable mouthparts with just the right curve, but perhaps we’d teach the galaxy to smile, one ally at a time. 

Wouldn’t that be amazing?

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Danny accidentally absorbed some of Nocturn's powers (like in the Vortex episode), and now, with these new temporary abilities, why not take advantage of them? Like a kid with a new toy, Danny (or should I say Phantom: with a new design) has fun every night going from dream to dream.

The dream world is so strange! Without the constant threat of a dream entity trying to take over the world and all that. Now he has fun exploring the most unusual parts of his classmates' subconscious, or anyone's in general.

Even though he knows he shouldn't be doing this (after all, he's a responsible adult now), spying on other people's dreams isn't exactly something a mature person would do.

On the other hand, Danny is the responsible adult; Phantom is the one who uses his new powers recklessly. Plus, no one in Gotham knows who Phantom is, and at the end of the day, he's not hurting anyone. Point in his favor!

It was all fun and games… until he felt it: the unpleasant taste of a nightmare, distressing and desperate. Phantom knows he has to intervene, because, unlike Nocturn, he does not delight in the suffering of others.

So he goes. And what he sees shocks him.

Resonant laughter of a psychopath, the constant pain of flesh being beaten, and the devastating reminder that no one came to help. Phantom doesn't just see it, he feels it. Gross. What is this? Why would anyone be hurting a child? Then he understands: this is not just a nightmare, it's a memory, and someone is suffering from reliving it.

He absolutely will not allow this nightmare to continue.

...

Jason hasn't been having good days lately, mostly because instead of going to therapy, he's chosen to sweep his trauma under the rug and aggressively throw himself into crime-fighting. He's not good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he's been tormented by the same damn nightmare over and over again.

He knows the script by heart, he knows how it will end, but he still feels the same fear as the first time.

His head hurts.

"No, not again," he thinks in terror. Once again, he's tied up, unable to move or call for help. It's colder than he remembers. The walls have a grotesque tint, with laughter written in every corner. But the worst thing is the silence… until the sound of clashing metal begins to resonate.

Everything is a thousand times worse. He's sure the original scenario wasn't like this, but his terrified mind refuses to accept it.

The metallic sound resonates louder, each crash rumbling in Jason's chest. His breathing quickens, and then he hears it: that laugh.

A deep, distorted echo of laughter that seems to come from every direction. The laughter snakes around the grotesque walls, filled with the same letters that repeat his agony. “Ha… ha… ha…” fills the air, louder with each invisible step that approaches.

Then, he appears.

It’s not the Joker he remembers from that fateful night. This one is worse. Bigger, more deformed, with a smile that seems to tear at his own face. The colors of his suit are darker, more twisted. It’s as if his mind has amplified him, made him more monstrous.

“My, my, how little Robin has grown? But… something remains the same, doesn’t it? No matter how many times you live it, it always ends the same way. And to think that you were my greatest work of art!”

His voice is mocking, but behind the mockery is pure cruelty, a wicked amusement that lights up in those crazy eyes.

The Joker leans towards Jason, his face invading the small distance between them. The sound of metal continues to echo, and Jason knows what's coming next.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he says, pulling out of nowhere an iron crowbar that gleams in the dim light of the nightmare. "It wouldn't be a good memory without this, would it?"

That's when the pain begins. Jason doesn't want to scream, and he won't. Even though that abominable creature is just a representation of his killer, he won't give him the luxury of listening to him suffer. The blows continue, and Jason bites his tongue. It's just a nightmare, it's not real… it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not-

"Hey… Are you okay?" he hears him ask. His shocked gaze turns to where the clown should be and discovers that he's gone. In his place, there's a handsome young man: short, slightly messy black hair, expressive purple eyes, and a body almost completely shrouded in dark shadows.

The mysterious man had a cosmic air about him, surrounded by a mix of special effects of stars and galaxies. Something magical.

And new.

Jason honestly doesn't know what he's seeing, or why he's seeing it. "What?" he says, unable to find another word to describe his situation.

The entity laughs at his stunned state, a reassuring echo very different from the joker's laughter. Then he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's no longer in that ugly room. He's now in a field of flowers, beautiful and vibrant, looking out at a starry sky.

Okay, this is the part where he asks his brain how he went from being in a nightmare to being with a handsome guy under the stars, hands free and untethered.

"Relax, you're not crazy," the being says as he lies back in the grass. “You were in pain, and I didn’t like it, so I got you out of there. Don’t worry, that abomination won’t bother you again.”

Jason blinks twice, bewildered, not understanding anything. “You… saved me?”

“You could say yes.”

“Why?” He shakes his head. “No, wait, that’s not the question. Who…?” Looking back at the being, he decides to change his question: “What are you?”

He seems to have taken the being by surprise.

It clasps its hands together as it looks up at the sky, trying to act normal. Jason narrows his eyes. “You can call me Void.”

“Did you just make up that name?”

The being looks away, seemingly embarrassed at being found out. “Yeah…” And suddenly exclaims, “Ah, ancients! I'm not supposed to be doing this, much less with one of the bats."

That last sentence had given away more than it should have.

"Hey, how about we admire the night view and then pretend this never happened?" Void suggested with a hopeful smile, turning to Jason.

Maybe it was the soft scent of the flowers, the calm atmosphere, or just the tiredness after so many nights of endless nightmares, but Jason, without thinking too much about it, walked over, lay down next to Void on the grass, and said, "No."

He needed a break.

...

And that's how Jason befriended a dream demon. And how Danny pretended to be a dream demon until Nocturn's powers wore off. He couldn't let the bats find out his identity.

After that, they spent more time together, fell in love, there was drama and there was closure. In the middle of all that, Danny started having tea with Alfred in the dream world, and at other times, he had fun bothering the other bats in their dreams.

But that's another story.

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Part 2

[malachitezmeyka]

Going to bed at 4 a.m when the sun rises at 5 is an... Interesting experience, to say the least

[kaira-diaries]

Nocturne:

Warning:(smut-implied age gap)(wound cleaning) (violence)(implied character death)

Pair:(fem!xfrontman/In-ho)

Word Count: 4k(dear god)

A/N: Okay, I feel like while writing this I blindly turned it into an enemies to lovers. Kind of? Sorta? Maybe? Also my summary kind of sucks but it's smut with some plot long story short.

Summary: The sheltered daughter of a VIP grows bored of the games, and finds herself exploring the quarters of the front man, only she's blindly unaware. This mistake, while nearly costs her her life, also opens up an intense and longing romance.

Masterlist <-

Vote here if you’d want a part two!!

________

You stifled a yawn, staring down at the game room where players carefully carved honeycombs under the watchful eyes of masked guards. Dalgona—a game you knew well but found painfully dull. Your father, sprawled beside you on the velvet loveseat, reeked of expensive liquor and slurred, "Where are you going?"

As you stood, you tucked a pillow beneath his head, smoothing your burgundy dress. "For a drink. Rest now."

Another VIP leaned over, gesturing to your snoring father. "Had too much?"

"Always," you replied with a tight smile. "Keep an eye on him, will you?"

Glass in hand, you ascended the grand staircase to the bar. The itch of your golden mask only added to your frustration. The sound of a gunshot from the game room below barely held your attention. Forty lost—disappointing. You popped the cork on a fresh bottle of wine, pouring a glass and savoring the first sip.

Then, through the double doors ahead, you noticed something. A space you'd never seen before, dark and enticing.

You hesitated, glancing back at the games. Nothing exciting there, and your father was well guarded. With a sly smile, you patted the blade strapped to your thigh, pushed the doors open, and stepped into the unknown.

With the wine bottle in hand, you take a generous swig, the rich flavor a momentary comfort. The foyer feels stark, oppressive—its black walls and cool gray floors exuding a chill that seeps into your skin. Gold accents glint faintly in the dim light, the only warmth in this austere domain. You grimace at the decor but press on, curiosity pulling you deeper.

The elongated hallway looms ahead, flanked by heavy, closed doors. Each one seems to hum with secrets, daring you to turn the handle. You hesitate, a voice in the back of your mind warning you to turn around. Yet, as your fingers graze the cool brass of a doorknob, you pull back. Another sip of wine quiets the voice, and you continue to the open space at the hall's end.

This room feels different—softer, more inviting. You run your fingers along the sleek fabric of a gray loveseat, its plush texture a strange comfort against the stark surroundings. Your gaze lands on a collection of vibrant figurines—a rare splash of color in the muted space. One stands out: a woman in a flowing red gown, microphone in hand, her face alight with passion. Around her, a miniature band, instruments gleaming, seems poised to play.

Your heart races as you spot a remote beside the figures. The urge to press it outweighs any lingering caution. You place the bottle down next to your mask as you remove it, press the button, and watch as the figures come to life, their voices harmonizing in a hauntingly beautiful rendition of "Fly Me to the Moon."

The melody fills the room, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Eyes closed, you let the music wash over you, unsure if it's the alcohol or the song that's softening the edges of the world. 

You were halfway through the bottle of wine when the music stopped abruptly, and a cold dread prickled your spine. The figures had ceased their dance mid-note, leaving the room in a suffocating silence.

You spun around, the blade on your thigh now in your grip, sharp and ready.

Standing in the doorway was a figure shrouded in shadow, his presence dominating the room. He stepped forward, the dim light catching the edges of a cold, metallic mask. His posture was rigid, and his gloved hand gripped a pistol aimed directly at you.

"Who are you?" His voice was like crushed gravel, low and commanding.

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your expression sharp, masking the fear threatening to surface. "You first," you bit back, your fingers tightening around the hilt of your blade.

His head tilted slightly, the gesture almost mocking. "You're in my quarters, and yet you demand answers."

You shifted your stance; every muscle in your body coiled like a spring. "I didn't see your name on the door," you snapped, each word laced with defiance.

In a flash, he was upon you, closing the distance with startling speed. His hand caught your wrist, twisting it just enough to force the knife from your grip without breaking the skin. You gritted your teeth as he pinned your arm behind your back, pressing you against the cold edge of the table.

His gun found its way under your chin, tilting your head back to meet his masked gaze. The mask's lifeless eyes stared down at you, void of humanity, and yet you swore you could feel the heat of his scrutiny.

"Answer me," he growled, his voice a hairsbreadth from your ear.

You smirked, though your pulse hammered against your ribs. "Kill me, then. I dare you. Let's see how you'd like explaining to everyone why a VIP's daughter ended up dead in your quarters."

His grip faltered for a fraction of a second, a hesitation so slight that most wouldn't notice. But you did. He released you with an almost annoyed shove, holstering his gun as he took a deliberate step back.

Rubbing your wrist, you straightened and smirked at him, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "Yeah didn't think so," you muttered.

Before he could respond, the room was flooded with pink-clad guards, their rifles raised and aimed squarely at you. Your eyes darted between the barrels of the guns and the masked man.

"Stand down," he barked at the guards, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

They hesitated but obeyed, lowering their weapons.

You scoffed, brushing past the guards as you retrieved your blade from the floor. "All of this for little ol' me?" you quipped, slipping your knife back into its sheath.

The masked man didn't respond, his head tilting slightly as if studying you. His silence unnerved you more than the gun had.

With a flick of your hair, you grabbed your golden mask from the table and placed it over your face, the metallic surface catching the dim light. As you walked past him, your eyes never left his, and neither did his leave yours.

"Try not to miss me," you said with a smirk, your voice dripping with mockery as you exited the room.

______________

You lay on your back, rubbing your eyes as exhaustion clung to you, but sleep refused to come. You didn't know what time it was, but when a dull headache crept in, you sighed and slipped out of bed to find a glass of water. Throwing on a black robe, you padded into the quiet halls, unconcerned. At this hour, only the guards would be awake, and none would dare glance at the daughter of a VIP—not if they valued their lives.

You crossed your arms against the chill and shut the door behind you. The once-bright hallway was now shaded, the only light spilling faintly from the main room ahead. Your knees ached as you trudged down the cold corridor.

The earlier Dalgona game had thinned the herd. Many players were gone, and your father's friends were divided—some bitter over their financial losses, others laughing as they poured another drink. For them, the money was trivial.

Mama had always been against gambling, insisting money was meant to be earned, not squandered on fleeting thrills. You missed her fiercely, the ache of her absence tightening your chest. You pressed on, trying to shake the melancholy, though your thoughts drifted elsewhere—to him.

His presence lingered in your mind like a gloom you couldn't shake. He had come terrifyingly close to ending your life, yet there was something in that encounter—a charged energy you couldn't explain, equal parts fear and... something else.

Reaching the kitchen, you stepped inside, greeted by the faint hum of the industrial fridge. The space was massive, gleaming stainless steel counters and cabinets casting faint reflections in the dim light. You found a glass in one of the cabinets, filling it with water from the sleek faucet.

As you raised the glass to your lips, a flicker of movement in the doorway caught your eye. Your heart stopped. He stood there, The masked man, silent and imposing.

A startled yelp escaped your lips as you stumbled back a step, clutching your chest.

"You're gonna give me a heart attack—again," you snapped, scowling at him as you poured 

another generous measure of water into your glass. "Ever heard of announcing yourself?"

His voice came out low and mechanical, but there was something unspoken behind it, something you couldn't quite place. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes behind the mask locked on you, lingering just a little too long. His steps were slow and soft, as if he was trying not to scare you off.

You cleared your throat, shrugging off the weight of his gaze. "Could be better," you said nonchalantly, swirling the liquid in your glass. Then, flashing a sharp smile, you added, "I didn't quite catch your name after you nearly blew my brains out."

"I'm the Front Man," he replied evenly.

Your grin faltered slightly, but you held it together, leaning casually against the counter. "Fitting. So, what's your deal in all this? Why are you here?"

"I oversee and operate the facility," he said, his voice as detached as ever.

You tilted your head, curiosity tugging at you. "So, you're the game maker," you said, taking a sip and adding, "Those were actually your quarters, then."

"Among other things," he admitted, a touch of something—pride, perhaps?—edging into his tone.

Your lips twitched with the hint of a smile as you folded your arms, suddenly acutely aware of your black robe, barely held together at the waist. "Sorry for snooping earlier," you said, your voice softer. "Curiosity and boredom get the better of me sometimes."

He didn't respond immediately, and the silence stretched, charged and heavy. When he finally spoke, his question caught you off guard. "What did you think of today's game?"

You raised a brow, knowing he didn't care about your opinion. Still, you couldn't resist taking the bait. "Honestly? It was a bit of a snooze fest. The Dalgona challenge?" You shook your head. "A complete letdown. I was so bored I ended up raiding your quarters just to find something more entertaining."

You thought you heard a low scoff beneath the mask, but his face was unreadable. "How so?" he asked, almost begrudgingly.

"It lacked drama," you said, setting your glass down. "There was no big moment to keep the audience on edge. No payoff. It felt...lazy." You leaned forward more, catching his stare. "I'm not easily impressed, and for my first visit? Not great, especially after being...manhandled."

His head tilted slightly, his mask catching the low light. "You're a spoiled brat," he said, his tone clipped. "I'm not here to entertain you."

You pushed away from the counter, stepping in front of him closely, your golden necklace catching the light as it swung forward. "That's where you're wrong," you said, your voice low, each word deliberate. "I'm part of the next generation of VIPs—the ones funding your 'little business.' If you can't impress me, why should I invest in you?"

The room felt colder for a moment, his silence more cutting than any retort. "Why wait until now to join your father at the games?" he asked abruptly, sidestepping your challenge.

You blinked, momentarily thrown. "I've been busy," you said.

"Busy with what?" he pressed.

You toyed with a strand of hair, smirking. "Business," you said lightly. "I mostly dabble in the legal kind...and sometimes the not-so-legal, if the payout's worth it."

A gust of cold air swept through the room, making you shiver. You rubbed your arms for warmth, feeling the tension in the air grow thicker. "How did you end up running all of this, anyway?" you asked, meeting his gaze. "Doesn't seem like the kind of job you'd find on a career board."

His answer was clipped. "I'm skilled at what I do. That's all you need to know."

"That's it?" you asked, your frown betraying your disappointment. "No juicy backstory?"

"Does it really matter?" he countered.

"Guess not," you said with a shrug. But his words lingered, their finality leaving a mark.

"If you're mostly about legal businesses, what are you doing here?" he asked, his tone sharp, probing.

"I love my father," you said simply. "He asked me to come, so I came. And this...this is my future, isn't it? Might as well get familiar with it instead of pretending it doesn't exist."

For a moment, he said nothing, his mask a void, his gaze impenetrable. But you felt it—the weight of his attention, the unspoken pull between you.

Finally, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the spell breaking. "I should get to bed," you said softly, stepping around him toward the hallway with your water. "Goodnight."

He inclined his head, his voice low. "Goodnight."

As you descended, the warmth of the exchange lingered, a quiet echo in the stillness of the night.

___________

A week had passed in a whirlwind of chaos, each game more brutal and captivating than the last. Yet, what lingered in your mind was the frustrating absence of The Front Man. Beyond fleeting glances, he seemed distant, as though merely going through the motions. It bothered you that you were disappointed.

Seated in your velvet chair, you felt the thrill of a game's dramatic conclusion but soon found yourself craving a refill. With a sudden burst of energy, you left your seat, not bothering to smooth your sage green dress, and ascended the staircase to the bar. The marble counter gleamed under soft light as you reached for the whiskey decanter.

Before the amber liquid could hit the glass, a loud crash from behind the double doors stopped you cold. Another crash followed, then a cry of pain that sent chills down your spine.

Heart pounding, you slipped inside to find The Front Man hunched over, a knife digging into his bloodied shoulder.

"What the fuck?" you blurted, stepping closer.

He shot out his good arm, stopping you. "I'm fine. Go back to the game," he said, his voice calm but distant.

You hesitated, his words tempting you to leave, but the sight of him—wounded and vulnerable—rooted you to the spot. Walking away felt impossible.

"Let me get it out. At that angle, you'll never dislodge it." He continued to poke and prod at his shoulder, his fingers and the blade digging into the tender flesh. Groaning in pain as blood pooled from his shoulder, he ultimately ignored your offer; shocker. 

You rolled your eyes and rushed over to him, hovering until he quit and met your gaze through the grey mask. "You can barely stay upright; let me help," you said, palm outstretched for the blade. "Believe me, you don't want to bleed out. It's a mess to clean up." He stalled for a few heartbeats, and you almost felt awkward until he placed the bloodstained blade in your hand. 

Sitting beside him, the tension in his body eased slightly. 

"You're stubborn," you muttered, wiping away the blood to get a clearer view of the wound. 

"And you're persistent," he shot back, a flicker of amusement flashed in your expression. 

"Call it a survival skill." You took a steadying breath. You hesitated for a moment, then glanced at the mask that concealed his face. "This isn't going to work with that thing in the way. Take it off."

Silence followed for a few moments, "It stays on."

"Look," you said, your tone firm but not unkind. "If I'm going to pull this bullet out without nicking an artery, I need to see what I'm doing. That means the mask—and the jacket—have to go."

A tense silence stretched between you, broken only by the sound of his unsteady breathing. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he reached up and unfastened the mask. As it fell away, you froze.

He was breathtaking—sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and piercing eyes that seemed to cut right through you. Despite the blood and sweat streaking his skin, he radiated a rugged intensity that made it hard to look away. You blinked, forcing yourself to focus.

"Jacket and whatever is on underneath too," you managed, your voice quieter now.

He smirked faintly, as if he'd caught the flicker of shock in your expression, but said nothing as he shrugged off his jacket and black shirt with a wince. Beneath it, his body was lean and sculpted, the muscles taut as he shifted to give you better access to the wound. You swallowed hard, mentally cursing yourself for being distracted. "This might hurt a little more." 

"Just do it," he deadpanned, taking a wealthy swig of liquor. 

The blade slipped deep into the wound, and your fingers steadied as you worked with precision. The bullet was lodged in an awkward angle, and you cursed under your breath. "What were you doing to end up like this?" You asked, partly to distract him and partly because your curiosity was gnawing at you. 

"Nothing, it was a disagreement," he said curtly.

"With a bullet?" you teased, but his silence told you it wasn't a joke. "Right. Noted."

Finally, your blade scraped against something hard, and you exhaled in relief. "Got it." You carefully maneuvered the bullet free, holding it up triumphantly before tossing it onto the table with a metallic clink. 

He let out a shaky breath, his body fully relaxing for the first time since you'd entered the room. "You're good at this," he admitted, his voice softer now.

"Thanks. Years of practice." You grabbed another cloth and doused it with the liquor, dabbing it against the wound to clean it. He hissed through his teeth but didn't pull away. 

"So," you said, wrapping a bandage tightly around his shoulder, "are you going to tell me what actually happened, or do I have to piece it together myself?" 

He studied you for a moment, his gaze unreadable. "You ask too many questions."

"Maybe," you admitted with a small smile, tying off the bandage. "But it's part of my charm." He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching as if suppressing a smile. 

"You're lucky I decided to be a helpful hand today," you commented, admiring your handiwork. "That should hold for now; I'll come back tonight to clean and bandage it once more. Just don't go picking any more fights."

"I'll keep that in mind." You started to gather the bloodied cloths and the blade, but his voice stopped you. "Thank you."

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and you glanced back at him. For a moment, the stoic, commanding figure seemed almost... human. 

"You're welcome," you said softly. "Just try not to die on me. It'd be a shame after all that work." 

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound sending you a strange warmth. "I'll do my best."

With that, you left his quarters to rejoin the game, the faint sound of his laughter following you as you returned to your velvet seat. 

___________

The room was dim, bathed in the soft, amber glow of a single lamp on the bedside table. The air was thick with the heady mix of whiskey and expensive cologne, an intoxicating blend that made you pause in the doorway, savoring it for a moment longer than you should have. In your hands, bandages and a damp cloth felt heavier than they were, as if weighted by the tension you carried with you. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, his back straight and shoulders taut, every inch of him radiating restraint. The mask was absent, left somewhere out of sight, and you were mesmerized by the faint outline of his profile in the low light. 

You knocked softly on the open door, the sound cutting through the thick silence. "So." he said without looking up, his voice, edged with dry humor. "That's how you announce yourself to someone." 

A soft laugh escaped your lips, an involuntary reaction to his sharp wit, as you entered the room. The distance between you felt heavier with every step, but you closed it anyway and sat beside him. 

"Any dizziness?" You asked, your voice gentle, almost tentative, as you set the supplies beside you. 

He turned his head toward you, his eyes shadowed yet heavy with something unspoken. His stillness was unnerving like he was waiting for something-waiting for you. "No," he said finally, his tone steady but low. "I feel fine." 

"Good," you murmured, reaching for his shoulder. His body tensed beneath your touch, a subtle reaction, but you felt it all the same. You worked carefully, peeling away the bandage with delicate fingers, wincing at the angry wound beneath. "Your body must be making up for the blood loss," you added, your voice softer now. 

His gaze lingered on you, the intensity of it palpable. You could feel the heat of it, even as he said nothing. The space between you seemed to shrink with each passing second, and though neither of you spoke, the weight of what remained unsaid hung in the air like a fragile thread. 

"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice breaking the quiet. 

You glance up, meeting his weary gaze. "Maybe not," you admitted, your fingers brushing his skin as you cleaned the wound. "But I want to." 

His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening for a moment before he let out a slow measured breath. "You shouldn't care," he murmured, almost to himself, but the words felt directed at you as if he was referring to when he pressed a gun to your head. 

"And yet, here I am," you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. 

His expression was unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might say something more. Instead, he sat in silence, letting you work.

As you finished securing the new bandage, your fingers lingered for just a moment too long, the touch barely there but electric nonetheless. You pulled back slowly, your heart thundering in your chest, and you pulled your hands into your lap, staring down at them.

You could feel his heavy and unwavering gaze on you. He hadn't said a word, but his silence spoke louder than any declaration. His dark and intense eyes roamed over you, not just your face but every detail—the loose strands of your freshly washed hair, the way your shirt slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing the soft curve beneath. There was more than curiosity in his gaze; there was hunger, restrained and smoldering like a fire barely contained. 

"Why did you offer to come here tonight?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. 

"To check on your wound," you said, though your voice cracked under the weight of his stare. 

He leaned forward slightly, his good hand bracing against the bed, and you caught that familiar scent of cologne mingling with a raw scent that was entirely his. "That's not the only reason," he countered, his tone sharp. 

Your breath hitched as he closed the space between you, the proximity dizzying. "Maybe I was worried," you admitted in a whisper as his presence consumed you. 

"Worried," he repeated, almost to himself, his lips curling into a faint smirk. 

"You shouldn't be." 

"I can't help it," you whispered. 

His hand moved before you could think, his fingers brushing against your cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes burned with something deeper, something primal. His thumb traced a line down your jaw, "You're exquisite," he murmured as his hand slid down, resting on the side of your neck, his thumb now grazing the hollow of your throat. The pulse beneath his touch quickened, betraying you. 

"You should leave," he said, though the words lacked conviction. 

"Do you want me to leave?" you asked, searching his eyes for any truth. 

His grip on your neck tightened ever so slightly, his fingers pressing against your skin as he tilted his head closer. "No," he admitted, the confession slipping out. Your lips parted, a sharp inhale escaping as the tension between you snapped, and he closed the distance. His lips captured yours with a heat that stole your breath. 

The kiss wasn't tentative or hesitant—it was consuming, demanding, and filled with a longing that neither of you could deny anymore. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you dizzy, his control slipping just enough to let you feel how much he wanted you. 

Your breath hitched as the kiss deepened, his grip on your back tightening, holding you to him. Without breaking the kiss, you shifted even closer, the soft fabric of your shirt brushing against his chest as your hands settled, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your fingertips. Wanting more, needing more, you leaned further in, swinging one leg over his lap. His breath caught as you settled onto him, straddling his thighs with deliberate care, mindful of his injured shoulder. His good hand explored every inch of you now as the kiss quickened with appetite. You gasped as his hand gripped your ass with breathtaking strength. 

The intimacy of the position sent a flush of heat through you, pooling between your thighs as your pulse thrummed wildly. Gazing down at him, he searched your face, lingering on your lips before flicking back up to look at you. Your hands reached up, brushing your fingers against his jaw; the faint stubble was rough beneath your touch.  "I didn't hurt you, did I?" you asked softly. 

"No," he said, the single word rough and weighted. You smiled. 

"Good," you mumbled, your palm pushing his hair from his face.

 "Because I don't want to stop." With that said, you pulled your shirt up, over your head and tossed it to the side, unveiling your breasts. He took every inch in of you, wasting no time attaching his lips to you. The sensation was breathtaking as you threw your head back, moaning. 

You exhaled sharply. There'd be marks, no doubt. However, concern surfaced within you as he suddenly pulled back. You gazed down at him, catching the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I can't fuck you how I want." 

Your expression eased as you met his gaze. "Then let me take care of you," you murmured, your voice gentle but determined as you lifted off him and slid down to the floor, settling on your knees. Reaching for his pants, your fingers diligently worked at the leather belt, yanking it free. Unzipping his pants and sliding your hands in, he sprang free before you, and your mouth watered at the view of him. You caught his eye, finding a smirk on his lips as he reached for your hair, wrapping it around his knuckles.

He gave a sharp tug, pulling your head back, and you whined. "You look so pretty on your knees for me," he remarked with desire staining his eyes.

With that, you took his immense size in your mouth, gliding to the pace he had set for you. Your tongue danced on his tip, and you swallowed every time you took the entirety of him; he groaned, "Fuck, just like that." He praised and your eyes watered from the intensity. You weren't outstanding at providing head, and a wave of insecurity washed over you. Nerves twisted in your stomach at the thought of not satisfying him, but the hitches in his breathing, the sharp inhales and exhales, and the praise he offered gave you the assurance you needed as you took him deeper and deeper with intensity and lust. You hadn't been able to see, but his head was thrown back in pleasure, lips parted.

Feeling him twitch in your mouth, you knew he was close as he picked up the speed even more. Saliva began pooling from your lips, dripping onto your knees and covering his length as you fought to breathe. His pull on your hair grew sloppy and you moaned at the appetizing ache in your scalp. "Fuck you're going to make me cum." His voice is rough as he offers one last yank of your hair, slamming you back down onto him and filling your mouth. You swallow the load, pulling off him and meeting his exhausted eyes; he rubs his thumb over your lips, promptly shoving it in your mouth, and you take it with no protest.

________

His chest radiated warmth as you melted into his embrace, your heartbeat gradually syncing with his steady rhythm. Your eyes remained closed as you hummed, "you never told me your name." 

A calloused palm rubs your shoulder, "In-ho." 

You smiled, repeating it, "In-ho. I like that much better than FrontMan." 

His fingers gently encircled your wrist, his touch spoke volumes. "Stay with me," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. You pushed yourself onto your elbow, looking down at him. "I am, " you whispered, but he shook his head and caressed your cheek. "Stay here with me. Help me run the whole fucking thing." The request entailed a lot and you weren't able to form a response, stunned by such a proposal, but then you thought it over. There was nothing left for you back home except your emergency medical clinic, which could indeed survive without you. Your father was fine and could take care of himself as long as he had his money. All you contained was a large sum of untouched money. You bit your lip, looking back at him. "Alright." 

[boreal-sea]

One of my favorite things about Cardassians is the rare times we see them outside, especially in sunny environments, and get to see how the ridges around their eyes actually function well in shading their eyes from bright sunlight, supporting the world building that they enjoy hot environments. Their skin color would also function very well for camouflaging in desert environs. Now, canonically, they also prefer dimmer light, so perhaps they evolved from nocturnal desert dwellers, but still, their ridges suggest they evolved to hunt in places with bright light and little shade.

Like look at this. Built in sunglasses:

[zara-renata]

Sylus Qin, Girl Dad | masterlist

I keep seeing discussions of what Sylus would be like as the father to a daughter. So here's my take: a short story about Sylus being a dad to a teenage daughter. You can't tell me he doesn't respect the hell out of her and give her everything she wants. Sylus x fem reader, sylus x mc.

The kitchen is dark, except for the warm glow from the fireplace and the faint light drifting in through the floor to ceiling windows—twin nocturnal cityscapes, Linkon CIty and the heart of the N109 Zone replacing starlight, the blood red moon bleeding into white here at the border between light and dark, law and chaos, your world and his, where you and he have built a home overlooking both of your territories.

He’s sipping a glass of wine, lounging in one of the overstuffed armchairs near the open hearth, the fire crackling pleasantly. He’s scrolling auction listings, plotting what to give you for your upcoming anniversary. Nothing is good enough. Nothing is ever good enough, for you, his beloved. Every year, he fights the same battle—finding the perfect gift that’s worthy of his wife. This year is your twentieth. He swirls the wine, inhales its rich scent. He appreciates the warmth it sends through him with each sip, scowls at the inferior, the common, the unacceptable offerings available in the highest echelons of the antique market.

His thoughts are interrupted by quiet footsteps echoing in the marble hallway beyond the open kitchen door.

“Tiger?” He speaks softly, but his voice sounds loud in the quiet kitchen—the chef and staff are long gone for the evening. The footsteps pause.

“You’re up?”

A voice like rich, slow honey. A mix of Sylus’s own deep tone and his kitten’s sweet, steel-reinforced notes.

“Clearly,” he laughs, low. “Going somewhere?”

Finally, the vision of beauty that never fails to hijack the breath in his lungs appears in the kitchen doorway.

Sometimes he can’t quite believe it—that you forgot him, that he hurt you so terribly, that you let him near again, and in the end accepted him, all over again. That you reached back to him, finally, and offered your hand in return for his. That you said yes, at every turn. Yes, he could kiss you. Yes, he could court you. Yes, he could make love to you. Yes, he could marry you.

Yes, it’s a girl.

Yes, he could help raise the daughter you made, together. With all of his flaws. All of the violence in his hands, in his horns, his tail—you were still willing to let him hold the little mewling infant, the army-crawling roly-poly, the toddling chaos monster.

He could attend soccer games, school plays, choir concerts. He squinted at video tutorials on how to make brownies, cupcakes, for bake sales.

“I can just buy the school and fund anything they need,” he grumbled, trying to fish yet another eggshell out of the gooey batter.

“No, you can’t. That’s not the point of a bake sale, Sylus,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head on his broad back. “And where is our spawn? She’s supposed to help you with this as part of the educational value of this whole circus.”

He leaned back, soaking in your warmth, savoring the press of your body against his. “She stuffed herself full of cookie dough and passed out. I put her to bed.”

In response, you slipped your hands under the Kiss the Cook, pink frilly apron he wore every time he cooked. A gift from the twins, trying to both pester and help their boss get smooches while in the kitchen.

“And why can’t I buy the damn school? This is utterly inefficient,” he groused, as you slipped your hand under the waistband of his comfortable pants. He groaned. “And if you’re not careful, kitten, I’m never going to finish these in time for tomorrow if you keep doing that.”

“Mmm, there go your claims of being able to multitask.”

“I’ll gladly admit that my powers of multitasking fail when your clever hands are involved, beloved,” he said, trying to turn in your arms.

“Oh well. Another time then.” You had squeezed, once, firmly, just to let him know what he was missing, before sliding your hands from his pants and striding from the room to the sound of his complaints about poor business practices, not delivering what you promise, how is he supposed to focus on the recipe instructions with this situation in his pants, the one you caused?

The years passed, stacked, spread, and you still say yes to him, every day, except when you’re deliberately trying to torment him. He never dreamt he could be so happy, for so long. His happiness only compounds, expands, fills his chest to the point of pain as he sees his daughter standing in the hallway.

She lifts an eyebrow. Meets his snark with her own in answer to his question of if she's going somewhere: “Clearly.”

He tries to suppress his smile, the pride washing through him. “And where are you going at this time of night, tiger?”

“Guess,” she says, and he has the strange feeling of looking in a mirror, and looking at you, all at once. Her eyes, rubies glittering in the firelight. The spill of her hair, just like yours. The snark—from him? From you? Not that it matters, because his daughter is also wholly herself.

He tilts his head, pretends to think. “Out with friends? Or one friend in particular?”

She hums, drifts into the room. Her scent smells like home to him, in a similar way to how yours does, ever since he found you again, all those years ago, while also being threaded through with distinctly different perfume, shower gel, hair product.

“Both,” she answers, and sits on the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. She leans over, sniffs the wine in his hand. “Can I have a sip?”

“Why would I let you waste my wine, when the last time you tried it you said it tasted like depression juice,” he gripes, moving the wine glass away from her.

She pouts a little, shrugs. “You said it’s an acquired taste. How am I to acquire it if I don’t try it more than once?”

He sighs, indulges her. “One sip.”

She takes the glass by the stem, as he taught her, swirls it. Drinks. Scrunches her nose in an unbearably adorable way. “Nope, still shit.”

“You and your mother. Absolutely no refined palate,” he laments, enjoying how she just laughs at his feigned disappointment, just like you do.

She snorts. “I have a palate for actual yummy drinks.”

“And what do we do after each yummy drink, oh refined one?” he instructs in a way that makes her roll her eyes.

“A big glass of water. To ensure that I spend half the night waiting in line for the bathroom.”

“Maybe if you don’t want to spend half the night in the bathroom, drink less alcohol, tiger.”

“Yes, yes, thank you daddy.” She leans against him, rests her head on his shoulder, looks at his tablet. “Anniversary present?”

He grunts in affirmation.

“You know she’s just happy to spend time with you. You don’t need to outdo yourself, every year.”

“Just because she’s satisfied with the bare minimum, doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve the universe served on a platter.”

“She says the same about you. You’re both gross,” she laughs.

“Take notes, tiger. Never settle for anyone who doesn’t treat you as well as I treat your mother.”

“Ah, yes, and should I take notes on your pride and arrogance, too, daddy?”

He smirks at his heart leaning against his shoulder. He had no idea his heart was so big, that it could encompass both you, and another whole other person, until his little girl came along. Along with the all-encompassing love, comes the terror. His heart, walking around in two different bodies, out in the world. Yours. His daughter’s. “If it helps. You’re your mother’s daughter—you’re entitled to be as arrogant as you like, treasure.”

“Noted.” Her tone is long-suffering, but pleased. “Can I go now?”

“Is that what you’re wearing?” He flicks a gaze to her short skirt, knee-high boots. The black and red corset cinching her lovely frame.

She sits up, kisses his cheek. “Yes. Problem?”

He sighs. “You know what you’re doing. Where people are looking, when you’re dressed like that.”

She sniffs, looks bored. “Good thing I don’t wear it for anyone else, but for me. They can look all they like.”

He understands dressing to one’s own tastes. To standing out, being the center of attention based on flashy apparel. “You know what to do, if anyone does anything that makes you uncomfortable? Including your particular friend?”

She rolls her eyes again. “Tell them to stop.”

“And if they don’t?” He suppresses the murderous rage at the very idea that someone would disrespect his daughter in such a way.

“Explode their balls with my evol,” she intones, having endured this conversation with her overprotective father more times than she can count.

“And then?” he prompts, pleased.

“Call you, Uncle Aidan, Uncle Luke, and Uncle Kieran,” she sing-songs, getting to her feet. Getting ready to make her escape.

“And if the cops show up before your uncles, or me?”

“I will not answer any questions without my attorney present,” she mocks her father’s deep voice, his bored rhythm of speech.

“And you’ll keep your phone on at all times?”

“Yes, daddy,” she humors him. “And if I do anything that I know will piss you off or scare mama, I’ll still call you to come save me, and you promise you won’t be mad at me.”

“Oh, I’ll be mad, but you’re still just a kid, it would be absurd for us to expect you never to make a mistake.” He suppresses another smile at her scowl. She looks so much like you, sometimes. It hurts his heart, in the best possible way. “Your safety is more important than anything else. We can always discuss consequences later.”

“Okay, okay. I promise to call you even if I know you’re going to be unhappy. Can I go now?”

He looks at her, memorizes her face, the curve of her cheek, admires the intelligence, the humor in her bright, sparkling eyes. It scares the shit out of him, every time she walks out of his sight. He wants to protect her, in the same way he still wants to protect you, from the entire weight of the cruel universe, from all the vagaries of foul humanity. But he read that it’s important for teenagers to feel that their parents trust them, to try out what it feels like to be independent, with a safety net waiting below. He’ll tolerate the terror, for the sake of his precious daughter. With safety measures in place, of course.

“Have fun, treasure.” He releases her, watches as she walks with the defiant confidence of a teenager to the door, secure in her knowledge that she’s already all grown up, that she’s older beyond her years, that her parents just worry too much. His heart feels like it’s going to burst in his chest when she turns, smiles at him.

“Love you, daddy.” 

And then she’s gone, not waiting for his answer, because she already knows. One thing he has done right, in all of his lifetimes—one sin he will never commit. His daughter has never, ever had a reason to question how much he adores her.

He sips his wine. Turns his gaze toward the window, sees his own reflection in the glass. His own reflection, with his eyes that are no longer just his own, but the eyes of his daughter looking back at him.

“You vetted her new guy, right?” The voice of Sylus’s beloved interrupts his thoughts. He turns, sees you pointing at your own right eye, ensuring that her husband had ransacked the depths of her daughter’s suitor’s soul before letting her out the door tonight.

He smirks. “I might have paid a visit to his part time job when she first mentioned him."

“And he’s okay?” You stride over to him, slip into his lap. Take the wine glass from his hand, sip. Because you know that everything of his, is yours, and always has been. He wraps his arms around your waist, inhales the scent of your skin, your lovely hair.

“He’s a good kid,” he admits. “Not good enough for her. But good enough for her to toy with, if she likes.”

“And the app on her phone?” You ignore his cynicism, intent on ensuring that all precautions are in place. You worry about your daughter, as much as he does. Your daughter has no idea, however, that you’re the scary one out of her two parents. If someone dares fuck with your baby girl, they’ll have to face her mother’s wrath. Sylus would just kill them—quietly, efficiently. Problem solved. 

You would take your time with them.

He loves you so fucking much.

Which is why he instructs his daughter to call him and her uncles, and not you. Sylus is a practical man. There is simply no need to have to break his beloved out of jail for the gruesome murder of some handsy asshole when Sylus can make a corpse disappear with the snap of his fingers.

“Tracking as we speak,” he assures you.

“And the twins?”

“Already on their way to remain at a discrete distance on standby in case she calls.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, finally satisfied. You rest your head where his daughter just rested hers. What use are such wide, strong shoulders, after all, if not for cushioning the precious head of his beloved and his treasured child?

“No, thank you” He’s suddenly overwhelmed with the size of his gratitude. “For doing all the hard work. Making her. Raising her to carry your goodness inside her. For saying yes.”

You just laugh a little at his uncharacteristic speech. Lift your head. “You were very persuasive, in the end. You can thank yourself, for making me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“And what offer was that, beloved?”

“You,” you sigh. “Everything that you are, and ever will be.”

He sniffs. “You were always a poor negotiator, compared to the swindlers in the N109 Zone. Seems like I got the better end of the deal.”

You roll your eyes, and he sees his daughter in your face. “For someone with such a good eye for fine things, you’ve never been able to see the value in the mirror,” you tease. “But that’s all right. You’re arrogant enough already.” You’ll never understand how Sylus has always managed to be so proud, arrogant, and yet so vulnerable at the same time. 

You love him so much, for all of his complexity.

He takes the wine glass from you. Sets it next to the armchair.

“With our treasure out of the house, we’re alone right now,” he whispers into your ear. You shiver. After all these years, his voice still sends excitement along your skin, your spine. “How about I remind you why I’m so arrogant, until she gets home?”

You turn your head, kiss him softly. His lips are still so soft. He tastes like warm wine, like home. “Another offer I can’t refuse.”

He doesn’t need any other answer as he lifts you in his arms, carries you down the long marble halls, lays you down on the big bed you share.

He makes good on his offer. Sylus has always kept his word, from the very beginning, after all.

You daughter makes it home just fine later that night, as you're sleeping soundly. As Sylus reads a book next to you, one hand drifting absentmindedly up and down your bare back, waiting up for her footsteps. He experiences relief, a restored sense of wholeness when he hears them echoing down the hall.

No homicide necessary.

[bestanimal]

Round 1 - Phylum Onychophora

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Onychophora is a phylum of long, soft-bodied, many-legged animals. They are commonly called Velvet Worms due to their velvety texture, and the human propensity for calling any small animal with a long body a worm. Onychophora is the only animal phylum in which every extant (non-extinct) member is fully terrestrial.

Onychophorans are predators, preying on other invertebrates which they catch by spraying an adhesive, glue-like slime. This slime can also be used to deter predators. They will target slime at the limbs of their prey, and have even been observed targeting the fangs of spiders. The slime is stretchy, with high tensile strength, and forms a net-like structure when sprayed. It takes about 24 days to replenish an exhausted slime repository, so they will eat their dried slime when they can.

Onychophoran legs are called oncopods, lobopods, or “stub feet”. They can have from 13 to as many as 43 pairs of feet, depending on species. Their legs are hollow and have no joints, instead being moved by the hydrostatic pressure of their fluid contents. Each foot has a pair of tiny chitin claws which they use to gain their footing on uneven terrain. They sense the world via a pair of antennae, the numerous papillae covering their bodies, and a pair of simple eyes, though there are some blind species. Their mouth is surrounded by sensitive lips, and their chitin jaws, used for chewing up prey, look similar to their claws. On either side of their mouth are the oral papillae, openings containing their slime glands. Unlike their relatives, the tardigrades and arthropods, they do not have a rigid exoskeleton, restricting them to habitats with high humidity. They are also nocturnal hunters, and shy away from light, leading them to be most active on rainy nights. Onychophorans have two sexes. Females are usually larger than males, and sometimes have more legs. In most species the males will secrete a pheromone from their many “armpits” to attract females. Mating procedures differ between species. Some species are live-bearing, and some are egg-laying. The oldest known fossil Onychophoran, Antennipatus, is known from the Late Carboniferous.

Propaganda under the cut:

The little orange guy in my avatar is a velvet worm!

Some species can spray their slime up to a foot away, though their accuracy gets worse with distance.

Apparently, velvet worm slime tastes "slightly bitter and at the same time somewhat astringent.” Don’t ask how biologists know that.

It is hard to evaluate all velvet worms due to their nocturnal nature and low population densities, but of the few species that have been evaluated, all are near threatened to critically endangered. Main threats come from habitat loss due to industrialisation, draining of wetlands, and slash-and-burn agriculture. Many species naturally have low population densities and small geographic ranges, so a small disturbance of ecosystem can lead to the extinction of entire species. Populations are also threatened by collection for universities or research institutes.

While most countries offer little to no protection for their velvet worms, Tasmania is unique for having its own velvet worm conservation plan and one region of forest dedicated to preserving the endangered Blind Velvet Worm, Leucopatus anophthalmus (seen in the 3rd image).

Onychophoran’s stub feet allow them to be sneaky ambush predators which hunt only at night. They move slowly and quietly, with their body raised off the ground. They only use their claws when needed for climbing, otherwise they walk softly on the pads of their feet. They are often able to get so close to their prey that they can gently touch them with their antennae to assess their size and nutritional value before the prey is alerted.

Onychophorans have small but complex brains, and are thus capable of sophisticated social interaction. Some species live and hunt in packs, acting in aggression and territoriality towards velvet worms not in their own group. After a kill, the dominant female always feeds first, followed in turn by the other females, then males, then the young. High-ranking individuals will chase and bite subordinates who climb on them, but will allow juveniles to climb on their backs without aggression.

Somft

[robertmatejcek]

Tableaux Automatique: Buffet  - 1″:1′-0″ diorama - mixed media - robert matejcek - 2023

“An ounce of sauce covers a multitude of sins.” - Anthony Bourdain

Tags:

[astr0-physcs]

an offer i could definitely refuse

t.fushiguro x m!reader

<you, a stripper for an underground club, catch the eye of a dangerous man>

{TW: slight dub-con, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, Daddy kink, brief mentions of alcohol and smoking, reader is a stripper}

WC: 5.1k

a/n: this too me so long but i'm such a procrastinator 💀

‼️NSFW UNDER THE CUT‼️

The intoxicating thrum of Shibuya nightlife beckoned, its seductive pulse a siren’s call to the lost, lonely, and desperate. A kaleidoscope of neon lights painted the streets, each hue casting long shadows upon the asphalt canvas, obscuring the lines between reality and fantasy. It was within this seductive world that you thrived, your vibrant aura and ethereal beauty echoed by the nocturnal glow of the city. You were a creature of the night, and the night embraced you with open arms.

Your chains clinked against your leather harness, hugging your body tight as you spun around the metal pole, the neon strobe lights reflecting off the metal adorned on your body. The routine for tonight was nothing special, so you danced normally, smiling like you were having the time of your life. Your co-workers mingled around the club, offering drinks and services to the paying customers.

Suddenly, you catch a glimpse of your manager, an elegant woman with eye-catching white hair in a diamond studded jumpsuit, walking across the back of the club. You try to narrow your eyes to see better. She's greeting a man, tall and muscular, and appears to invite him to her office.He smiles cunningly and follows her. Before you can take your eyes off of the scene, the man's vibrant green eyes glanced up onto the stage. You felt a shiver go down your spine, and you nearly messed up your routine. His eyes pierced right into your soul, and then they were gone. Muscle memory kicked in as you finished out your routine. The song ended and the small crowd close to the stage whooped and yelled. You flash a cocky smile at the crowd, then whisper to your partner that you needed a drink.

Scurrying off stage, you run to the employees only section and grab your water bottle, taking a much needed drink. The clear liquid dripped down your chin and you huff, wiping it on the back of your wrist. A door opens to your right, and your boss walks through, leading the same dark haired man from before. You nearly choke, spinning around rapidly to avoid more eye contact. You didn't turn back around until you heard her office door shut.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

“What could they possibly be talking about in there?” You think to yourself. Was he getting hired? Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you set down your water bottle in favor of tiptoeing quietly to the door, careful to not let the heels of your stilettos touch the ground. Pressing an ear against the door, you try to listen in on their conversation.

“—And the payment is all here.” That was your boss.

“Thanks, Mei Mei.” The unfamiliar deeper voice must be that man. “I should have this done by next week.”

You can hear your bosses frown in her next words. “You can't make it any sooner?”

“Oh sure I can. But that's gonna cost ya’.”

Your eyes narrowed. What a scumbag.

“Come now, Toji.” Her voice turned sweeter and deeper, trying to seduce him. Toji, you thought.

“Nuh uh, none of your sweet talk. Ya’ know that don't work on me.”

They knew each other…?

“Tch, alright. Please make this quick.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Footsteps approach the door quicker than you anticipated, and you try to back up as quickly as possible. The door swung open, and the big man walked out. He gave you a quizzical look, arching an eyebrow.

“What's this? An eavesdropper?”

His baritone voice reverberated inside your head. You stutter and go pink from embarrassment as he shut the door. “N–no! I was just getting a sip of water after my routine, I would never—!”

“Ohhh yea, I saw you up there.” He interrupted. “Y’know, for such a scrawny boy, you dance pretty well.”

Your mouth goes dry. Of course, people complimented you on your performances all the time. But the way he gave you such a backhanded compliment made you feel… weird.

“Thank you…?” You say, confused and took a second to take in his appearance . He was wearing a black compression shirt, releasing his toned body and white sweatpants. Not exactly club attire, but he wasn't here for the club, you thought. He towered at least a foot or two above you, his black hair was untrimmed and a mess across his forehead.

He grunts a response. The corners of his mouth twitch, the scar on the side of his lip curving upwards.

“A sucker for attention, I see.”

The blush coloring your cheeks deepens. “I am not!”

He chuckles at your defensive stance. “Right. Like you weren't just up there dancing your slutty heart out for all the attention from big, bad men.”

You were bright red now, his teasing words embarrassing you.

“I–I'm not up there for any other reason other than to make money. It's a job, not something I want to do for fun.”

Toji gives you a knowing look, his thin eyebrows raising slightly. He hums inquisitively and then sighs. He pulls out a cigarette and starts searching his body for a lighter.

You scrunch your face a little. “Smoking isn't allowed in the club. I thought Mei Mei would have told you that.”

His glance sent a shiver down your spine. Emerald eyes narrowed, he looks you up and down unimpressed.

“And a rule stickler, too. Not my type.”

He walks past you, out of the club's back room. You stare after him incredulously. What an ass! You think as you grit your teeth, stopping yourself from going after him. You take another sip of water from your bottle and walk back out onto the stage. The next pair's routine had already started, and your partner came up to you behind the curtain.

“Hey, where were you? You were gone for a while.”

You shrug. “One of Mei Mei’s clients was talking to me.”

She blinks, surprised. “Mei Mei never takes on clients.”

You shake your head. “Not that kind of client, I don't think. Mei Mei has a partner. I think they were discussing money or something.”

You trail off, glancing into the crowd fawning over the two dancers on stage. Another member of the club comes up behind you. He had long dark hair out into a half bun. His nipple piercings glimmered in the strobe lights reflection.

“Hey, I need your help on the floor. Satoru is going on break and you're up next.” He said, his voice smooth over the electro music. You nod your head and wait for Satoru to come towards the employee break room. He comes up to you and your shift lead. He hands you his tray, clad with a black and white checkered design. You take it from him and watch him and the shift lead walk into the back. You sigh softly. It was obvious they had something going on.

You wave goodbye to your coworker and head onto the floor, swinging your hips with each step. You walked over to the bar to get the next order.

“Hey, Nanami. Who's up next?”

Nanami glances at you behind the counter, his dark brown glasses hiding his intimidating eyes.

“Whiskey, on the rocks. Table 94.” Nanami stated bluntly. He wasn't the type to have a conversation with those who he didn't consider in his personal circle. You nod and glance to the table he referred to. You are met with those same predatory emerald eyes. Quickly breaking your gaze, you stare into space for a second. Nanami gives you a look.

“He's watching you.” He says, his voice a low murmur. “Do you know him?”

You shake your head. “No. He's one of Mei Mei’s clients. For money.” You specify.

Nanami glanced at the table. “He looks like a dangerous man. Be careful.”

You gave Nanami a grateful look and sighed softly.

He places the caramel colored liquid on the bar top. You take a deep breath, gathering your confidence. “Okay, okay.” You breathe. Placing the glass onto your tray, you begin walking towards those watchful eyes. A chill runs down your spine as you get closer to his table.

His eyes never leave your body. You put on a sugary smile, pretending you don't know him. “Hi there! Here's your order.” You place the drink onto the table with a slight clunk. You notice the cigarette was still in his mouth, now lit.

“I'm sorry, sir. Smoking isn't allowed inside the building.”

He arches a brow at you. “I know the rules here, doll.”

Your eyebrows twitch, annoyed with his carefree attitude. You still give him a sweet smile. “Please put it away.”

He scoffs. “Or what, babe? You gonna make me?”

You drop your smile. “I am just doing my job. I'll have to call the manager if you continue to disrespect the rules of the club.”

“You're gonna have to ask nicer than that, sweetie.” His lips curve upwards into a smirk. Your face glows red with embarrassment, lucky the club was dark and he couldn't see it.

“Please put the cigarette away.” You say, much more politely than you wanted to. He gives you a wolfish grin, taking a long, exaggerated drag and then blowing it in your direction. Your temper rose, your blood boiling. Before you could think rationally, you took the cigarette out of his mouth. He glanced at you, a mild expression on his dark features. His deep jade eyes never left your body, studying your face. You take the cigarette and throw it on the floor, stepping in it with your heel, smushing it into the concrete club floor.

His expression darkened.

“Listen, doll. Nobody disrespects me. Especially not a stuck up bimbo whore.”

You stiffened up with anger and reached out to slap him. With incredible speed, he caught your wrist and pulled, tripping you and causing you to fall on top of him. Your eyes searched for him wildly, and his lips went back to that wolfish smirk.

“I—”

He cuts off your protests with his lips against your own. You open your mouth to protest and he shoves his tongue into you. You squirm, but his massive rough hands hold you tight by your waist, forcing your thighs apart. He was greedy with his kiss, forcefully exploring your body with his hands. He tastes like cigarettes and you frown at the flavor.

A few seconds pass, before he finally breaks the kiss. He grins at you, noting how your cheeks were flushed and your breath was labored.

“Somebody enjoyed that.” He teased me. Your face went up in flames, scowling at him.

“You are seriously violating the rules of the club. Please let me go before I have to call my manager.”

Toji rolls his eyes. “I don't think Mei Mei will mind if I have a little fun. Besides, we have a deal in place.”

“What kind of deal?” You ask, curious.

He scoffs. “Wouldn't you like to know? Sorry doll, that info’s top secret. Not for cute little sluts like yourself.”

He flicks your nose playfully with his free hand. You wince at the impact and cover where he flicked you. He chuckles slowly, his hand on your waist tightening.

“Do you have any idea who I am, sweetheart?” he whispers slowly. You blink. He was right, you didn't know who this man was. Just that he was talking with Mei Mei. You shake your head. He chuckles, then laughs loudly like you just told the funniest joke.

“Oh babe… You are in for it, aren't you?” His scar curves up with his massive smile. You couldn't help but feel dread crawl up your spine like poison ivy. You swallow nervously.

“Don't worry, doll. I'll be gentle.” He coos. “Maybe…”

A soft gasp escapes you, your eyes going wide. Toji smirks and lifts your chin up with his other hand.

“Not like you're trying to leave anymore.”

You go red again and look away, all your previous confidence fizzling out quickly. Arousal begins to heat up in your core and you try not to close your thighs around his waist. He smirks up at you, getting in your face. His dark eyes sparkled with predatory mischief, and you bite your lip softly. He runs his thumb over your lip and laughs a little.

“Don't get shy with me now, baby. What's gonna happen when I see your entire body, free from all these stupid restrictions?”

To emphasize his point, he tugs on one of the straps to your leather harness. You blush again and open your mouth to defend yourself. The words get stuck in your throat and you look away your eyes sketching through the crowd of peoples, hoping something would distract you. Toji chuckles.

“You're so adorable, you don't even know what you do to me.” He coos again, tilting his head slightly. You look at him through your lashes.

“What do I do…?” You ask softly.

Toji raises both of his eyebrows, his smirk growing. “Somebody's being brave. You really wanna know?”

You nod, not breaking eye contact. Toji chuckles again.

“Alright, baby. I'll show you. Lemme take you to the back real quick.”

He effortlessly lifts you up, his hands on your thighs. You yelp and wrap your legs around his waist instinctively. He laughs in your ear, and you feel his voice reverberating in his chest.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

Toji gives you a confused look. “Don't you work here? We're going to a back room, baby.”

“O–oh, yeah…” You blush, embarrassed.

He laughs slowly, and begins walking down the hall labeled in glod letters ‘Private Rooms.’ You glance at Nanami at the bar, and he shoots you a worried look. You gently nod your head, signaling that you weren't in danger.

The hall was filled with quiet laughter, and the music was muffled. You subconsciously grip onto Tojis shoulders, and he laughs lowly.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I'm not gonna hurt ‘cha.”

You nod into his shoulder as he carries you into an empty room. The room looked like most of the other private rooms. There was a leather couch pressed up against the wall, matching the red aesthetic of this room in particular. There was a small coffee table in the middle of the floor with a lamp on it, emanating a soft glow. He sits you down on the lavish couch, his hands roaming from your thighs to the swell of your ass. Suddenly he slaps you, causing you to yelp. You push back from him, frowning.

“You said you weren't gonna hurt me….” You say with a pout.

“Oh yeah. I did say that didn't i?” He glanced away, pretending to think. You wiggle in his lap, your ass stinging. He roughly grabs your hips and forces you to stay still. “Keep still for me, doll— Yeah, that's it…”

You flush a little at the praise. Toji grins again, possessive and predatory.

“Yeah? You like that? Who's a good boy?” he says in a low voice. You bite your lip and glance away. He ‘tsks’ and harshly grabs your face, his smile fading.

“Look at me when I'm speaking to you, doll face. I asked you a question.”

“I–I am…” you mutter, your lips pressed together firmly. His wolfish grin returns.

“Good boy. I think you deserve a reward, don't you?”

You gulp and nod weakly, your body humming with anticipation. His smug expression gets impossibly wider. Jade eyes scan your body, unashamed.

“You really want me to tell you? Or d’ya want me to show you…?” He leans in, his warm breath fanning across your chin.

“That… That sounds good…” You agree, your voice shaky and breathless. Toji grins egotistically and his hands begin roaming your body again. He leans in closer to your lips and your breath turns heavy.

“Yeah?” He hums against your lips. “Where d’ya wanna take this, babe?”

You dont reply, instead opting to press your glossed lips against his chapped ones. You can feel his smile in the kiss, his hands gripping your hips tighter. You let out a soft whine that he immediately swallowed. The kiss is intense and full of lust and neediness. You're unable to fight your urges, an uphill battle. Your hips grind closer to his abdomen and he smiles slyly.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't you start without me.” His hands slide across to your thighs, spreading them over his lap even more. You barely register the sly hand traveling to your dick, before he gives it a harsh grab and you nearly choke. A moan spluttered from your lips and you broke the kiss, looking at him incredulously.

“Look at you.” He hums, possessiveness keeping in fond. “I could just leave you like this, drooling and panting like a fuckin’ dog.”

You could barely stop yourself from whining loudly. You grab onto his sleeves in a silent plea. He laughs and grabs you by the small of your back, pushing you flush against his abdomen. The friction makes you squeal.

“Ask me nicely.” He says lowly.

You swallow down your embarrassment and wrap your hands around his massive shoulders, burying your head in the crook of his neck. You open your mouth to speak, but a harsh hand grabs the back of your head, pulling you away from him.

“Look at me when you're speaking.”

You whine at the hold he has on your hair. He doesn't let go, and you open your mouth to speak again.

“Please, please don't leave me like this… N–Need you…” You feel hot tears well up in your eyes from the pain. He finally lets you go, and your head falls forward onto his chest.

“There's a good boy. Now, let's get you outta these stupid things.” His hands firmly tug your chains around your waist. You nod quickly and begin undoing your costume, throwing off all the accessories. All that was left was the shiny leather bodysuit. You blush. “Um…”

He gives you an inquisitive look. “Yes, baby?”

You swallow. “I… I can't get my zipper.”

He flashes his teeth. “Poor thing. Lemme help you, hm?”

His large hands briefly leave your body, but then skillfully return to your back. Warm fingers trace down your spine, causing your back to arch. He hums appreciatively. His hands slowly pull down the zipper, the sound cutting through the noise of your heavy breathing. You lean into his chest to hide your embarrassment, biting your glossed lip. As the zipper came to its end, Toji pulled the leotard down to your hips.

“Lift your legs up, baby.” He murmured. You raise your hips reluctantly and slide out of the costume, your heels falling off and clattering to the ground. Your now exposed dick twitched weakly and you glance away, embarrassed.

“There we go,” He hums appreciatively. He pulls your hips back down onto his lap, causing you to bounce. A whine escapes you and he chuckles. “I wanna see what I can make you do before I let you go. Now let's make sure you earn every penny I spent on you tonight.”

His voice was smug and arrogant, his hands roughly spreading your thighs. Your hips twitch slightly into his abdomen. He snickers lowly. “Let's see how much more I can make you shake, hm?”

You swallow and nod in lustful agreement. His smirk gets ever wider and he lets one of his scarred hands trails to your dick, already leaking, He wraps his hand around you, and you let out a mewl. He laughs darkly and begins stroking you, his veiny hands feel cool against your feverish skin. Your hips uncontrollably fucking his hand, soft whines continued to escape your throat and your eyes flutter close.

“Hey,” He snaps his free hand in front of your face. Your eyes blink open, hazy from lust. “Don't get shy on me now, sweetheart. I've just started.”

His hand moves faster, and you whine, trying to keep your eyes open. Your long lashes kept fluttering closed, succumbing to the arousal you were feeling. A hot feeling begins to build in your stomach and your hands grasp onto his shoulders. Your breath gets heavier and your moans get whiner.

“Yea? Gonna cum f’me? Be a good lil’ slut?” He asks condescendingly. You nod frantically, rocking your hips I time with his strokes.

“Beg for it.”

His voice was deep and taunting. His hand stops abruptly and he releases his hold. You whine loudly, rocking your hips frantically. Instinctively, your hand goes down to finish. Toji’s hand shot out to stop yours.

“The fuck you think you’re doing? I gave you an order.” His voice was hard, devoid of any previous lust. You flail helplessly on his lap, unintentionally grinding against his boner. He groans, and uses his free hand to slap your inner thigh harshly.

“Stop fuckin moving and answer me, slut.”

The sting makes you whine, and you finally pry your eyes open. “Pl—please… lemme cum…” Another slap causes you to cry out, the pain is a sharp contrast to the pleasure you feel in your core

“Wh—what? I asked nicely…” You pout, desperate for release.

“Yeah, well, I told you to beg. Do they just hire bimbos here?” He says degradingly. Your face goes red with embarrassment and you glance away. He roughly grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together. “You look at me when you're spoken to, got it?”

Your big doe eyes meet his dark pools of green, pupils blown out with lust. Your heart skips a beat and your hips tremble.

“Y—yes…” You mumble out. His arrogant smirk returns.

“Good boy. Now, does my favorite slut wanna cum in my hand or on my cock?” he asks in a renewed sultry manner. Your body jerks forward with his words, your face growing hot. His hand releases your cheeks, cupping your chin instead.

“I— I…” you stammer.

“Hm? I can't hear ya, babe. Speak up.” his deep voice drips with sarcasm, reveling in the way you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Y—your cock… please.” You ask softly, gently open your eyes to be met with a cocky grin. He hums a little.

His free hand drops to the button on his pants, undoing it with ease, his erect member springing up. You gasp slightly at the sheer size of it. It must be 8 inches long, the shaft throbbing and leaking with pre-cum. It rubs gently against yours, causing you to whine at the friction.

“Does the pretty boy likes what he sees?” He asks. You nod, trying not to drool over him. “Look at you. You're like a puppy, drooling all over his treat. You want it?” You nod once, transfixed.

“Gotta earn it baby.” His hand slides down your chin to your throat. “Wanna hear ya beg for me.”

You swallow, feeling his hand trace down your throat to your collarbone. “Please, please, n—need it, please lemme…. Wanna ride it, Daddy—”

The name slips from your mouth, shocking both of you. He paused, stunned for a moment, your hands fly up to your mouth, embarrassment washing over you. “I— Sorry…” You say, muffled. You watch as his eyes darken impossibly so.

“Say that shit again.” He growled.

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to resist his demand.

“D—Daddy…” you mumble.

“Fuck… the shit you do t’me…” He growls and lifts your hips up. “You ready, baby?” He brought the hand that wasn't holding onto your throat to your clenching hole. He presses a finger against the puckered rim. “Gotta prep this slutty hole f'me.” He mutters before pushing inside. The stretch isn't terrible, but it still makes you whine.

“You like that? Think you can take more?” He doesn't wait for an answer before pushing another finger into you. You whine and clutch onto his shoulders, your chest pressed against his.

“Fuck—!” You squeak, your hips rocking back and forth on his fingers. The tip of his fingers touch the bundle of nerves deep inside and you jerk harshly, letting out a shocked moan. “Yea? Right there?”

Before you could say anything, he pressed his fingers into you deeply, hitting your prostate with each thrust. Your mouth drops open and your nails dig into his shoulder blades. Your previous orgasm that fizzled out returned with fire. You whine into his chest, your back arching lewdly.

“D—Daddy… G–gonna—” You warn him in between breathless whines.

“No you're not.” He says firmly, roughly pulling his fingers out and wiping them on your thigh. You squirm in need, accentuated with a slap on your ass.

“Needy fuckin thing arent’cha?”

You whine. Tojis hand gently pressed against your chest, pushing you back from your hold on him. You pout, but he just grins again.

“Gonna put it in.” He says in a low whisper. You can feel his warm breath on your ear. Your body jolts, and you barely have time to react before he's lifting you up by your hips.

“W–wait—! Be gentle…” you say in a lustful whimper. He gives you a predatory look.

“Gentle?” he repeated incredulously, his voice dripping with mockery. “How adorable.”

With that, he shoves his entire length into you at once. A shriek leaves your lips as you feel his cock rearranging your organs. Your hands tightly grab onto his shoulders, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Your orgasm washed over you befroe you could even warn him, hot cum dribbling out of your dick. He ‘tsks’ in disappointment.

“Didn't give you premission to do that, hun.”

You open your mouth to speak, apologize, but he silences you with a rough thrust of his hips. He doesn't give you time to adjust, grabbing your hips and slamming you down onto his dick. Your moans were high pitched and breathy, the pleasure bordering on pain. You try to take control of your hips, trying to slow down.

“T–Toji—!” One of the hands on your hips slap your ass hard. You clench on his dick and he groans.

“Told ya what to call me, didn't I?” He asked, a rhetorical question. You force a swallow down and he begins furiously pounding up into you again.

“Daddy—! T–too fast! Slow—!” Another harsh slap to your other cheek.

“Don't tell me how to fuck you, boy.” He growled before slamming his dick up into your prostate. You scream, the noises ending in porno-grade moans. You couldn't even bother to be quiet anymore, the pleasure lighting all your nerve endings on fire. Another orgasm welled up inside you, and you tried to ask for permission this time.

“Please—! G–gonna—!!” You sob, the pressure nearly becoming too much.

“You better not, fuckin nasty slut.” He mutters darkly, and watches you writhe. You try so hard to keep your orgasm under wraps, but with his dick hitting that special spot that made you see stars, it was an uphill battle.

“Gonna—! I Can't— Daddy, please—!!” You whine out brokenly. His dick twitched inside you at the pet name.

“Fuck, ya gonna cum all over me? Whore.” His words sent your mind spiraling, and you nearly lose yourself. Your eyes roll into the back of you head.

“D—addy, please…” You plead hoarsely.

“Fuck baby, cum all over yourself. Make a mess f’me.” His permission sent you spiraling over the edge. You back arched as your dick shot out hot cum. It dribbled down his abdomen and he made another noise of disapproval. “Gonna ha’fta clean that up.”

You barely register his words, writhing with overstimulation. “Too– too much—! Please—!”

You whine, but it falls on deaf ears. He keeps slamming your hips down onto his, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room and probably down the hall. Your fingers begin clawing at his biceps trying to get him to cease. Pleadin bubbles up and dies in your throat, replaced by whimpers and soft, teary whines.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, why dont’cha.” Another rhetorical question The pain became overwhelming, but Toji didn't show any signs of stopping. “Fuck you're so tight for me. Gonna breed ya, get ya fuckin pregnant.” He growls, and sending another shiver down your spine. Your dick twitched weakly, more pre cum dribbling out of the tip.

After what seems like hours, constant slamming of your hips onto his, his dick twitches harshly inside you. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum. You'll be good and take all of it, yea?”

Tears flowed down your face, your dick twitching weakly. You nod, breathy moans escaping you.

“Say it. Tell Daddy you'll be a good boy…” He demands, slapping your red ass. You jerk forward and mewl.

“Be… be a good boy for, for Daddy…” You say in between soft moans. He gives you a wolfish grin.

“Good boy. Fuckin’ take all of it.” Was his only warning before his dick exploded with his seed, coating your pink walls white. He presses your hips flush again his, hurrying himself inside you. The sensation made you tip over the edge again, clear cum dribbling out of you. He rocks himself slowly, riding out his orgasm. With a huff, he pulls out, his cum spilling out of you. Quickly, he pushed his fingers back into your hole, causing you to whine.

“You got a plug on ya, baby?” He asked. You shake your head, voice hoarse. He tuts again. “Next time, come more prepared.”

You shudder and nod, exited there would be a 'next time’. He pulls his fingers out and unceremoniously wipes the cum on your thigh. You make a face.

“Oh, be quiet. It's whatcha deserve anyways.” He says coldly. He picks you up and sets you beside him on the couch, buttoning his pants. “Maybe don't be such a nosy eavesdropper next time.”

You had nearly forgotten why he had targeted you in the first places You nod tiredly. He stands up and makes his way toward the door.

“Same time next week. Don't be late.”

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Morning After

(A Sequel to Ace in the Hole)

A commission from the lovely @spoczkot :)

Cw: miscommunication, insecurity, gambling, oral sex, vaginal sex, tentacles, double penetration, sensory deprivation

male shadow monster x afab reader

Some beautiful art of our lovely shadow monster

Word count: 5k

Most days, you woke up suddenly, to an alarm or a nagging feeling that there was something you needed to do. 

You absolutely hated it. The sudden shift from sleep to the waking world. It always left you feeling anxious and restless. 

The best way to wake up in the morning was the was you were waking up now. Slowly, barely able to tell where your dreams ended and where the light, silky blankets began. You drifted slowly, softly, back into consciousness, and finally, when you were good and ready, you opened your eyes.

All you could see was black. 

You blinked, confused and disoriented, half convinced you’d just forgotten to open your eyes. 

When the darkness persisted, a spike of panic ran through you. 

You wanted to reel backwards but you didn’t know where you were or what was blocking out your vision. 

You felt a warm presence at your side and pulled away from it, sending yourself tumbling off the edge of the unfamiliar bed. 

The bed. You could see it now, sprawled across the floor, tangled up in a blanket you’d ungraciously taken with you in your panicked frenzy.

A low voice grumbled from the bed, you presumed disturbed by the newfound lack of blankets and the sound of someone falling to the floor beside him. 

You managed a sheepish smile as you gathered your bearings, the events of the night before surfacing in your mind. 

You were here, with Nocturne. 

A pitch-black face peeked over the edge of the bed as he rose from sleep more gracefully than you had. 

“You having fun down there?” he asked, his morning voice a little gravelly.

You nodded, pushing his blankets back onto the bed as you clambered to your feet. 

“Didn’t take you for that much of a clutz,” he said, a teasing lilt ever-present in his voice.

You smiled, sliding back under the covers. “I’m not really, I just don’t usually wake up blind. I feel like that’s excusable.”

He was so hard to read, his void of a presence difficult to gather coherent facial expressions from if you didn’t know what you were looking for, but you saw him tense for a moment before turning to the clock at his bedside. 

“Fuck, I’m late.”

He rose from the bed in a hurry, haphazardly grabbing clothes from his closet and throwing them on, you all but forgotten in his bed. 

You took the hint, rising beside him to grab your own things, admittedly in less of a hurry to leave than he seemed to be. 

He paused, shifting to look over his shoulder to look at you as you gathered your things, pulling your clothes on quickly. 

He shook his head. “No, you don’t have to leave. You can stay as long as you want.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t actually want you in his apartment on your own, but you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless, that he was at least being as gracious as he could.

You waved him off, working quickly towards making yourself scarce despite the feeling inside your chest tugging at you, pleading with you to stay. 

But you didn’t want to stay, not really. Not with him gone.  

Upon seeing that you were set on leaving he slowed, his frenzy calming seemingly to ensure he could leave with you. 

It was a considerate gesture yet still it pulled a thread of guilt tight inside you, at inconveniencing him, holding him back from whatever he had to do. 

You left at the same time, him being a perfect gentleman for you all the while, holding the door open for you and giving you a gracious nod as he headed on his way.

You spent most of your day debating whether or not you should show up at the casino that night. Would it look desperate? It probably would but to be honest, it wasn’t that far from the truth. Would he want you there? 

When you got particularly nervous you couldn’t help but imagine him turning you away, deciding he was done with you, or pretending not to know you at all. You weren’t sure which would hurt worse. 

But in the end, you couldn’t keep yourself away. It would take more self-control than you had on hand

You’d never been so nervous walking in before. It felt like everyone was looking at you. When you looked up, you saw Nocturne. His lack of features did nothing to disguise the fact he was staring at you. 

You settled at his table, and he dealt cards while looking straight at you, his face entirely unreadable. 

You had gotten no better at poker, despite his ‘lessons.’  In fact, you’d say you’d gotten much much worse. 

You lost all your chips incredibly fast, not pacing yourself like you normally did, far too frazzled for that. In about an hour, your entire budget meant for your next visit was gone. 

Part of you hoped maybe you’d be familiar enough with him soon that you wouldn’t need to come here every other week anymore. But maybe that was wishful thinking. 

Everything in you wanted to go get more chips so you could return to his table with an easy excuse but you were already running ahead of what you should have spent this week. 

So instead you waited, hoping he’d come up to you when his shift was done. 

And so you sat, with about two hours ahead of you, waiting for midnight to come and for him to get off work. 

You didn’t have much to do in the meantime. Normally you headed out as soon as you lost but part of you thought, or maybe just hoped, that he’d come talk to you. 

Even if nothing came of it, you couldn’t leave without at least talking to him. 

Not after last night. 

You were incredibly bad at looking busy, it seemed, stirring a drink you didn’t want halfheartedly as you waited. 

You tried not to feel too self-conscious. Other people were idling around you, you were far from the only loiterer, but you just felt like you were doing it wrong. 

As long as you didn’t look too out of place, you supposed it didn’t matter. 

And so there you sat, staring at the little whirlpool you’d formed in your drink as you waited, trying not to look up too much. You imagined it would only serve to make you look more nervous and flighty. 

This determination to keep your head down meant that when someone cleared their throat next to you, you almost jumped out of your skin. 

Your head jerked up to find a familiar, dark face.

He leaned back a little, looking almost sheepish. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to say I’m sorry about this morning. I thought maybe you could come over again and I could make it up to you?”

“More lessons?” You weren’t sure if you were more excited or nervous about this turn of events. 

What did he want? Just a repeat of last time? Probably. You set yourself on being grateful for it either way. 

“Whatever you’d like.” He reached out to take your hand before clearly thinking better of it, pulling back as you followed him out of the casino and back to a familiar apartment. 

The mood was decidedly different from the night before. 

He shuffled off towards the kitchen immediately, looking back at you standing near the door. 

“Come in,” he said, beckoning you forward. “What would you like?”

“What?”

He gestured back towards the kitchen. “To eat. I’m afraid I was a terribly rude host last night, I didn’t make you anything.”

You shook your head dismissively. “You weren’t rude.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Anyways, what do you want.”

“You really don’t have to-” you tried to insist before he cut you off. 

“And yet I’m going to. You’re not going to decide anything, are you? That’s fine. Do you like pasta?”

You gave him a small nod and he immediately started pulling out pots and boxes and fresh ingredients faster than you could keep track of them.

You wanted to help but you didn’t know where to start. He moved so swiftly and fluidly through the kitchen that it felt like any attempt to assist would hinder him more than anything. 

You hesitantly moved to his side, asking a quiet, “What should I do?”

He gave you an amused glance. “Nothing. I’m making it for you, your job is just to sit back.”

You frowned, a crinkle forming between your brows. “I want to help.”

“You really don’t have to.” His voice was soft and low and you could feel your cheeks heat at the sound of it. 

“But I want to,” you said, giving him what you hoped was a winning smile. “Now what are we making?”

He let out a fond little sigh and then put you to work. It was not lost on you that he was giving you the easiest tasks but you didn’t mind, you were happy with the compromise, so long as you were being helpful. 

What made less sense to you than his insistence that you let him do most of the work was the way he made a point to stay away from you, keeping a careful distance as he moved gracefully about his tasks. Whenever you drew nearer to him he always found a convenient excuse to move to the other end of the kitchen. 

At one point you reached out to grab the handle of a pan at the exact time he did and he pulled back before your hands had a chance to meet, almost like he’d been burned. You couldn’t help but worry you’d done something to upset him and that was why he was keeping his distance. But then why would he invite you here?”

So you tested the waters, intentionally bumping into him a few times, trying to make it as casual as you could.

He seemed nervous about it more than anything, almost leaning away as you got close to him. 

You felt him go completely stiff as you brushed up next to him, your arms barely touching. 

“You should be more careful,” he said, and you pulled away, embarrassment coloring your face. 

But he hadn’t asked you to stop, he’d asked you to be more careful. Surely if he wanted you to stay away, he’d tell you as much. 

So you pressed on, brushing up against him on occasion, desperate to figure out what was clearly making him uncomfortable so you could fix it. 

The problem with touching him, which you wanted nothing more than to do, was it rendered you functionally useless. If you so much as bumped against him you were left grasping blindly for utensils and sticking your hands out in front of you to try desperately not to bump into anything. 

It made you feel like an idiot. When he had to grab your hand to avoid you smacking it right into the hot stove that you would’ve sworn was feet away, you sheepishly stepped back from him, determined to stop making a fool of yourself. 

But as soon as you both strayed far enough away from the stove you were back at his side, brushing against him again. 

Your hand shifted around, feeling for a spoon in the dark, refusing to move away from his side as he just stood there. He wasn’t pulling away for once, you weren’t about to ruin this. 

It wasn’t entirely unselfish. You wanted to touch him, you liked having him close. At least when he wasn’t desperately pulling away from you. 

You heard a low chuckle and then a voice right next to you said, “Open your mouth,” his words moving hot air over your neck. 

You did, patient and trusting, and were rewarded with a mouthful of warm food, delicious on your tongue.

“It’s amazing,” you declared, determined to show him how much you appreciated everything he was doing for you. 

“Good, I’m glad.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice. 

And then he pulled away and color bloomed back into your vision, leaving you feeling more disoriented than when it had been black.

“So what did you get up to today?” you asked, leaning back against the cold marble of the countertops.  

He shrugged. “Nothing much, mainly just working.”

“Oh.” You’d hoped he’d at least pretend to have a reason he’d rushed off this morning. 

You shouldn’t be here. You weren’t really sure why he’d invited you over at all. You’d clearly misread the situation, at least some part of it. He didn’t want to be close to you, had lied to you. All the evidence felt overwhelming. You were being a fool. There was nothing to figure out, you were taking advantage of his hospitality. He didn’t want you here, of course that was why he was pulling away. What other reason would there be?

His head cocked to the side. “What did I say? You look like a kicked puppy.”

“No, it’s fine, I can take a hint. I really didn’t mean to impose, now or this morning.”

He froze. “Oh my god, I forgot. This morning I was… I… No, you caught me, it was an excuse.”

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “Right, understood. I should go.”

He reached out to grab you and then stopped, pulling back again. “Don’t go,” he settled for instead, sighing out the words with both of his hands firmly at his sides. 

You shook your head. “I really don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not. It wasn’t an excuse for me.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t… I just wanted to give you an out.”

“An out? You were the one who left, you said I could stay.”

He sighed. “Not from my apartment, from me.”

You flinched back. “I get it, I understand not wanting some stranger to stick around, I promise in the future you can just tell me that. You didn’t have to lie.”

He groaned. “No, it’s not like that. I like you, I really do. You’re sweet. I thought you’d stick around just to be kind, I didn’t want to make you think you had to stay just because we slept together.”

You started to laugh as soon as he got the words out, unable to control the instinct. He stared at you in clear confusion until you managed to force out the words between giggles. “I was thinking the same thing about you. You know, I was trying so hard to be casual, I guess I fooled you a bit too well. Why would you think I wanted to leave anyway? I was clearly crazy about you. I was there constantly fawning over you and you thought I wanted to leave?”

“It’s not that crazy. I saw how scared you were when you woke up. I know I’m not exactly a convenient person to be around. Plenty of people are attracted to me, sure, it’s cool and sexy to be stuck in the dark like that, but it’s not something people want forever. People try blindfolds on for a fun, kinky night, they don’t do it every day. You can’t hold hands with me on walks, would have to avoid touching me if you wanted to do basically anything. I’ve been here before, the novelty wears off fast and I get left behind with it. Figured it was good to give you an out. And sometimes, maybe, it’s a little easier to leave first. Hurts less that way.”

You froze for a moment, unsure what to say. You leaned forward a bit, half intent on hugging him but as you watched him tense up once again, you leaned back into the counter. 

“You know,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “I had the biggest crush on you for ages. It wasn’t just about your quick fingers and card tricks, although I have to admit, they didn’t hurt,” you said with a smile. “I first came there, to see you, because my friend said you were sweet. She said you made sure she felt safe there, that you kept a guy who was bothering her away. But more than that, you made her laugh afterwards, cheered her up. I had no idea how right she was. You always paid attention to me, made me laugh the whole time I lost, and let me hang around after.  At first, I thought it was some sort of tactic, a way to get better tips, and I didn’t mind. But you never really seemed to pay that much attention to anyone else and I thought that it was awfully considerate of you to at the very least make sure I didn’t see when you did, to try and make me feel special, because surely that was all it could be. And even that gave me butterflies. You were so sweet and funny, but it couldn’t be anything more than that. So when you decided to take me home last night I was so excited not because it was some fun fantasy, but because it was you, and because you wanted me. You’re not a blindfold, you’re a person. And I can get gloves for walks or you can help guide me or.. I don’t know, I haven’t had much time to think about it, but I’m sure we could figure something out. If you wanted to, that is, I don’t…”

And then his mouth was on yours and the words you’d been saying faded away entirely.

His hand rose to cradle your cheek, holding you close, as he pulled you with him, slowly and steadily leading you somewhere, your mouths never parting. 

The two of you fell back onto the couch and you didn’t even flinch at the movement. You trusted him, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

In the position you’d fallen into, you were on top of him, pinning him to the back of the couch. 

He didn’t seem to mind, two of his tendrils snaking around your hips to pull you even closer, his hips just barely bucking up, begging for friction. 

You gave it to him, grinding down on him as his tongue grazed the seam of your lips and you opened them to allow him inside. 

He deepened the kiss eagerly, thumb stroking your cheek gently, sinking back into the couch to bring you further over him. 

And then you smelled burning. 

You pulled away from the kiss, trying to look towards the kitchen before realizing that you couldn’t. 

He rose to try and meet your lips once more, tendrils trying to pull you back towards him. 

You resisted the urge to give in to him, instead muttering a quiet, “Do you smell that?”

He flew off the couch and was in the kitchen in a second, taking the delicious food that had been basically finished and that you’d barely gotten a taste of off the stove. 

He took a quick peek inside and you could tell in an instant that it was ruined as he dropped it into the sink with a sigh.

His hands rose to cover his face as he looked back at you, sitting disheveled on the couch and you swore if he were human, he’d be a bright red right now. 

“I just wanted to make you dinner, oh my god,” he said, his voice muffled by his palms. “Some date this is.”

You perked up instantly. “This is a date?”

His fingers shifted open so he could look at you. “Maybe. If that’s alright with you.”

A delighted laugh escaped you, unbidden, before you were throwing yourself at him again, lips crashing together as you pulled his hands away from his face. 

He took it in stride, hoisting you up onto the counter, which pulled a surprised little squeak from you.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down impatiently. You lifted yourself a little on the counter to allow him to pull them down, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh as he did.

“At last one of us should get to eat,” he muttered, nipping playfully at your thigh as you giggled, hands falling to tangle themselves in his hair. 

It really was a shame, you decided, that you couldn’t admire him like this, between your thighs. 

You whined out a quiet “please,” and he buried his face in your core in an instant, wasting no time and mercifully, making you beg no further. 

He ate you out like a man starved, hands firmly pressed into your hips, holding you close, keeping you unmoving as you tried to buck into his face. 

His tongue was longer than that of any man you’d been with before, snaking inside you before withdrawing so he could suck on your clit dutifully once more. 

He didn’t so much as come up to breathe, lapping relentlessly at you. You were sure most of his face was covered with your wetness at this point and he couldn’t seem to care less. 

You came like that, on his counter, his mouth working you over tirelessly. 

Your back arched, shifting into him even further, practically fucking his face as you came. 

Even as you came down from your orgasm he didn’t stop, tongue pressing deep inside of you as you let out whines of overstimulation. 

You tugged him back by the hair and didn’t need your vision to be able to imagine the smug little self-satisfied look that was plastered across his face, You’d seen it more than enough times. 

You shifted to move off the counter and his hands met your hips, pulling you off and making sure your feet reached the floor safely. 

You smiled at him as he led you back towards the couch and you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

“My turn,” you said, leaning down before a tendril wrapped around your chin and pulled you back up. 

“No, stay up here with me.”

You gave him a teasing grin. “Come on. I mean, you were supposed to feed me.

His grip on you remained unrelenting. “Please. I want to kiss you,” he said, his voice softer.

Who were you to deny him that?

Nimble fingers moved down, gentle and careful with you as they pushed inside you, and his lips met yours once more. 

He tasted of you, a little sweet, moans escaping him as you licked into his mouth, desperate to feel more of him.  

His fingers pulled out of you soon after he’d begun touching you and you couldn’t help but whine in displeasure.

Almost instantly his fingers were replaced by something thicker. He held tight to you as he pressed inside, slowly, until your hips met. 

The tendril inside you now, the one that sat right between his legs, refused to stay still, squirming around in your tight heat, pressing against you perfectly, your back arching up at the movements. 

He buried his head in your neck, his hands and tendrils alike keeping you close to him, as close together as two beings could be. 

“God, you feel so good, so good for me. My perfect girl.”

Your hips bucked up, try to get movement, to get more. 

He pressed soft kisses across your face as you hurtled towards a second orgasm, approaching much faster than the first. You were too far gone to kiss him back properly but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Everything was messy and disorienting and you couldn’t be more content in it all, gripping onto him, wanting everything he’d give you as long as he’d stay close like this. 

You were more than happy to let him do the work, to surrender to the sensations

As his hand absentmindedly stroked your lips, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, you took his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them dutifully, wanting as much of him as you could get. 

“If you wanted your mouth filled so badly you can have it, you just have to ask nicely. 

You let out a pleading noise. Talking felt impossibly hard, your thoughts moving slowly but desperately towards things that felt much more important than words, reaching for him again. 

In a moment, that was no longer an issue, a thick tentacle entering your waiting mouth, pressing down gently on your tongue, almost caressing as your mouth hung open. 

You came a second time like that, with one of his tendrils in your mouth as he thrusted in a steady rhythm inside of you. 

It was less slow and soft than the last one, hitting you suddenly and quickly, leaving you with nothing to do but hold onto him. You let out a cry and gripped him hard enough to leave bruises on any human as he fucked you through it.

The tendril currently in your mouth squirmed and you could practically feel him trying to keep it from pushing further inside, 

You moaned around it, unable to do much more than that as he thrusted hard and unforgiving into you, the rocking of his hips moving you in time with him. 

His arms held you as more and more of his tendrils snaked across your body, wanting to touch as much of you as they could, endlessly greedy. 

He grunted out the word “close” and as soon as he did, your mouth was suddenly empty again before impatient lips pressed against yours. You swallowed down his moans as he came inside you. His grip on your hips remained tight and you thought it just might leave marks. You hoped it would, wishing you could leave any on him in return. 

He pulled out of you with a little hiss and moved to walk away before your hand swiftly reached out, pulling him back toward you as quickly as you could. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said as you tugged him into a tight embrace. 

He chuckled. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I should clean us up.”

You leaned back into the couch with a huff before suddenly and without warning, you were being lifted. 

You sunk into his embrace, more than happy to be carried around. The sound of a tap turning on came from beside you but you ignored it, leaning into Nocturne’s chest. 

And then, unceremoniously, you were dropped onto a familiar, soft bed. 

Your vision returned for barely a moment before it was gone again, a warm cloth being stroked across your skin as he sunk into bed beside you, quietly cleaning both of you off as you snuggled into the covers. 

He tugged at your shirt and only now did you realize it was still on. It had been all but forgotten during sex but now he pulled it off indignantly, like it was a barrier too much. Like he needed to be able to touch you. He pulled it off with a little of your help, throwing it unceremoniously to the floor and burying his head in your neck. 

“No running off tomorrow morning, right?” you asked as your fingers carded through his hair. 

“Of course not,” he said, his breath tickling your skin as he spoke. “I think I owe you breakfast.”

You gave a content little hum, hoping breakfast tomorrow was at least a little more successful than dinner had been. 

Or maybe, upon reflection, you wouldn’t completely mind a repeat of tonight.

But then, you wouldn’t mind a cozy breakfast either. Wouldn’t mind eating across from him, not touching for a while so you could have the time to admire him. Wouldn’t mind eating in the dark so you could lean against him as you ate. 

No, you thought. You wouldn’t mind any of it. 

His tendrils snaked around your arms and waist to hold you close, all but trapping you against him, pulling you into a little cocoon of warmth as one grabbed the blankets and tucked them carefully around you. 

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss into the closest one. 

He let out a quiet groan, the tendril reaching to caress your face. 

Amidst the nest of tendrils you found yourselves cuddling inside of, you felt his hand reach for yours, your fingers entwining with his. 

“Next time,” he muttered, “I’m going to make you the best dinner you’ve ever eaten, mark my words.”

You felt your heart swell, holding him tighter as he spoke. 

Next time.

[howdoesone]

How does one invite a Saola to a unicorn-themed party?

Introduction to the Saola: The Real-Life Unicorn The Saola, often referred to as the “Asian unicorn,” is one of the most elusive and mystical creatures in the animal kingdom. Discovered only in 1992 in the Annamite Range of Vietnam and Laos, the Saola has captivated the imaginations of scientists and animal lovers alike. With its long, slender horns and gentle demeanor, it’s easy to see why it…

[munefille]

Hi! Can you tell more about your hunting angel OC? Like who is he, what is his purpose and just facts about him.

HIII YAYYYY THANK YOU FOR ASKING im going to try to answer this without dumping too much... (oopsies I ended up yapping)

To begin, the hunting angels are a species that he is apart of. They have greater lore in the world they're set in, but to keep it basic they're essentially a type of nocturnal predator that is very, very good at stealth hunting, nicknamed after their uncanny resemblance to the common people's idea of an angel. They're quite rare and incredibly hard to spot, so it's unlikely you would've ever seen one before. In Lorne's introduction post, I mentioned how he struggles to fit in due to his essential albinism; typically members of his species have black wings/hair. This isn't the only reason he's heavily disliked (not even the main one to be honest).

as of right now, his purpose is to watch over you. before meeting you, he lived a fairly reclusive life, sometimes terrorizing close towns by snatching cattle and people who wander too close. becoming wanted in such an inviolable way became an addictive feeling- really, he would do anything to maintain your praise. although he appears to be calm and graceful in your presence, he hides an incredibly violent temper behind it, furthering the fact that you truly have no idea what kind of being you've just attached yourself to. He's not above manipulating you using the status you've placed upon him; he thinks that playing the part of guardian angel is for your sake (he tells himself, knowing he would tear down a village if you didn't need him anymore). If you were to ever find out and react in an unsatisfactory way, your survival isn't guaranteed. At the end of the day, no matter how heavenly his appearance seems, he is still a creature of feral nature.

as for some facts:

he's partially blind in his right eye. lorne's eyesight has been bad from birth, not including the fact that hunting angels in general are sensitive to light. Due to this, he typically keeps his eyes covered.

despite being very large, his bones are hollow, so he's not nearly as dense as you would expect.

he's actually quite a bit taller than the average hunting angel.

Lorne has an older sister and a mother, he wants nothing to do with either of them.

he's never met his father.

his favorite food is deer.