#ugh just exquisite

[koqabear]

dreamer is everything i wanted and more bye guys i’m deactivating!

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

This shot feels so intentionally hamlet core

[mollysails]

also by the way in this blog we love aziraphale to the end of time

i can’t blame him for what he said at the end because I think i can see what’s going on in his head that’s making him act like that

i’m going to focus on the “I forgive you” bit because it’s easier to explain

aziraphale has said that to crowley twice (that we know of ofc)

I feel like both times he has said it, he was sort of doing it as a way of sort of saying “I take pity on you because you don’t know what YOU’RE doing” to crowley

like, I feel like aziraphale (much like in season 1) still feels guilty for going against heaven; he still feels like he has to fulfill his duty as an angel because he’s scared that what he and crowley have been doing is not “right”

he’s so blinded by “the great plan” and “doing the good thing” that he’s convinced himself that angels ARE doing the right thing, so saying “I forgive you” to crowley is sort of him saying “I understand that you do the things you do and you act the way you act because of your circumstances and the context that you have been forced to live in (heaven failed you and now you can’t trust them), but I take pity on the fact that that is keeping you from seeing that this *is* the way, so I forgive you for that, even though you’re not doing the right thing (I AM)”

aziraphale’s biggest virtue is also his biggest defect: he truly believes in goodness. and that is what’s driving him to trust heaven again, because he’s convinced that the only reason it didn’t work out the first time is because it wasn’t the right people in charge of doing it, so as long as he carries it out, everything should be fine, right? (WRONG, but he can’t see that, or even better, he doesn’t want to see it)

when crowley said that the earth will be just as dead if heaven kills it as it will be if hell does it, he was right, but aziraphale is convinced that poor crowley can’t see that ‘he knows better’

so he forgives him

[todayisafridaynight]

My man has not been marinating in his sins under three layers of leather for this 😔😔😔

But I mean. Okay. Incredibly funny choice of materials for a very serious assassin though right... if the sound designers were BRAVE ENOUGH they would've added So Much Creaking when he moves...

Also, congrats on Masato! If it were down to Jo, Arakawa, and Masato, who wins drip-wise?

he did not bake in that leather shirt and crocodile suit to lose to ODA 😭 but on the real though PLEASE Y7 but every jo scene has the underlying sound of leather and gator skin squeaking ☠️☠️☠️

a fashion competition between the arakawas though.... how evil i love all of their outfits so much and i can easily make a case for all of them..... i think i do have to say 2019 jo does take it for me: i really do love all the textures on his outfit and the spots of purple from his patterned tie and the small sliver of white from his vest are SO good....

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

Gift Ribbon

“suguru—fuckkk…” the words slipped past your lips as you rode your fiancé’s massive cock, blindfolded and with your hands tied.

“sssshh, baby. you wouldn’t want to wake the girls, would you?”

oh no, you definitely wouldn’t. having the girls catch you—their soon-to-be mother—and their father in such a filthy, compromising position was definitely not part of the plan.

“but—but…” the sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, and once again, you questioned how you’d ended up like this. yet every time suguru’s cock hit that sensitive, pleasure-filled spot inside you, all your thoughts evaporated.

god, it felt so good.

you had always welcomed your fiancé’s cock with greedy enthusiasm. the way your warm, snug walls clenched around his cock made it impossible not to surrender yourself as his little plaything, eager to do anything he wanted.

“s-shit…” suguru leaned his head back, groaning. “just like that, baby. ride my cock so hard that tomorrow morning—ugh—every step you take reminds you of this moment.” his head lolled against the back of the couch, one hand moving to toy with your sensitive nipple.

this was torture. exquisite, mind-numbing torture. with your hands bound and your vision stolen, you were utterly at his mercy, drunk on the way his massive cock stretched you open. and the way he pinched and played with your nipple only heightened the intoxicating pleasure.

“sugu—baby…” your head tilted back as a loud moan spilled from your lips. you had no strength left to keep going. your hips had been rolling against his cock with quick, rhythmic movements, but the effort was taking its toll.

“oh, is my baby getting tired?” his teasing drawl sent a flood of heat to your cheeks, and you cursed softly under your breath.

his large fingers were still playing with your nipple, alternating between gentle strokes and firm squeezes. sometimes, he’d roll it between his fingers, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

he was entirely in control.

“guess I can’t let my fiancée wear herself out, huh?” in one smooth motion, suguru pulled you flush against his chest, the hand that had been tormenting your nipple now gripping your waist. he started thrusting into you, deep and hard.

his pace was relentless, his thick cock filling you up in a way that made you want to melt into him forever. the soft, velvety tip kept brushing against your g-spot with every thrust, making you wish you could stay like this—utterly wrecked and ruined by him. but the need to keep quiet gnawed at the back of your mind. if you got too loud, the girls might wake up. so, desperate to muffle your moans, you bit into his left shoulder.

“fuckin’ feral girl… hah, you know that only turns me on more, don’t you?” one of his hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling your head up from his shoulder. his lips crashed onto yours in a bruising, desperate kiss.

there was nothing gentle about it. suguru’s tongue invaded your mouth, his kisses hungry and wild, claiming every inch of you. you wanted to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him even closer, but your hands were still bound behind you.

even as his lips devoured yours, his hips never faltered. each deep, rough thrust sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, his cock pushing deeper, harder. the slick mix of his precum and your arousal dripped down your thighs, evidence of how completely he owned you in this moment.

suguru geto always fucked you like he worshipped every inch of you.

when he finally broke away from the kiss, gasping for air, you managed to stammer, “you’re too fast… c-can you just slow—”

“slow down? not a chance, baby. I know you’re close. fuck—this pussy is going to be the death of me… FUCK.” he yanked you tighter against him, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, his growls vibrating through your skin. his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pounded into you with a feral intensity.

“come for me—fuck—come all over my cock, baby… OH GOD—” his voice broke into a guttural groan as you felt his thick, hot release flood you. the warmth of it sent you over the edge, your walls clamping down around him as you came with a cry muffled against his shoulder.

neither of you moved, both of you panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath. his cock remained buried inside you, still twitching slightly as the aftershocks ran through both of your bodies. your hands were still bound, your vision stolen by the blindfold, leaving you completely at his mercy.

pressing his lips softly to your ear, he whispered, his voice low and rough, “merry christmas, my soon-to-be wife.” his fingers brushed over the silky ribbon tying your wrists, the same one he’d used to bind his favorite present of the night—you.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[pseudowho]

"Oh, fuck-- Kento, stopstopstop-- go back--"

Kento grimaced, almost comedically, as you tried to push him back out through the coffee shop doorway, and into the freezing rain. The bell above you dinged, and dinged, and dingalingdingdinged as the two of you battled, and the door danced back and forth against it.

Kento wouldn't leave the promise of fresh bread without a fight.

"-- if they haven't got the casse croute left, I'll be perfectly happy with something else-" (he wouldn't) "--and I can come back later to grab one for lunch tomorrow--" (he couldn't) "--and I'd just prefer to get out of the rain--" (please)

"No," you hissed, urging, "no, it's not that, it's--"

Kento blinked, one long, slow blink, over your shoulder. He clocked a man-- a familiar man, one whose photos he had once seen you tear to shreds-- who was sat at a window table already. Ah. He understood.

"Don't worry," Kento murmured, slipping a discrete, strong hand around your waist to press you through the doorway, as you looked up at him in anguish, "he won't bother us. But if he does--" (no, Kento-- you shouldn't--")

By the time the inevitable occurred, and your ex approached to wipe the smile off your face, Kento had already calculated the sum of the man, and found he came up short.

Kento watched you from over the rim of his cup, concealing a smirk in foam as you cold-shouldered your ex with such exquisite vindictiveness that he felt himself twitch against his thigh. Kento pinched your thigh, softly, as you stalked past him to excuse yourself to the bathroom.

Your ex chewed on something Kento only hoped was gum, and sat on your chair (have to dry-clean her coat for her, shit) and regarded Kento's beige suit with a shit-eating grin. He held out his hand, which Kento shook, despite its filthy nails (ugh).

"New guy, are you?" Said your ex, kissing his teeth with a glint in his eye, "How do you like my sloppy seconds?"

Kento smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, "I find flowers stay fresh and thriving in new soil, actually. And anyway, things were rather fresh after the first, ah...four inches, was it?"

Your ex balked, and recoiled. As he leaned back against his chair, his face turned puce, and he opened his mouth to make a scene, which we can't have, Kento, oh no, so--

"I advise you move forwards again-- just a little more-- there. Perfect."

Your ex, stunned, had followed Kento's mellow instruction without questioning, and shuffled back forwards into the fresh sunlight. Kento smiled again.

"There we go. Things don't grow in the shade. Would you like the lamp on? I can reach it for you."

Your ex scoffed now, and scoffed some incoherent curses, and scoffed himself into standing and tripping over the leg of his chair. You arrived back from the bathroom, and regarded your soiled chair with disgust.

"--you can keep her--" Your ex spat, jostling his pockets for his car keys, "--of all the cheek-- I'm leaving--"

"In that?" Kento regarded a car outside the coffee shop, as its one working indicator flashed to life, "I didn't bring my jump cables. Will you be alright?"

You choked into your latte, clattering it down onto the table to turn away and cough into your sleeve. Your ex looked as though he may hit Kento (he can try), but remembered himself, and went to move to the cashier.

Kento piped up one last time, barely audible above the coffee shop din.

"I wouldn't worry. I paid your bill, when we arrived. Buy yourself something...nice."

Your ex scarpered, bursting out of the door like a cat out of its cage. You took a bite of cake through teary-eyed, muffled laughter. Kento smiled over at you, leaning on one hand to admire your blossoms and life.

"You're such a bitch, Kento, I knew I shouldn't have left you alone with him--"

(you're right; you shouldn't have)

[qlossytbh]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 the time where you had just a little too much to drink after a party at rossis and spencer takes care of you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 alcohol intoxication, drinking, reader gets sick, emetophobia, a bit of suggestiveness (?), lots of pet names, spencer’s a sweetheart.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 suffering a bit of a writers block but i am on a roll lately. it’s like ive got all these unfinished drafts and i can’t seem to finish them ugh. im going through my request, slowly but surely!

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Come on,” Spencer urged, wrapping a tight arm around you as you clung to his shoulder as if your life depended on it. God, your head was pounding and your own body felt like dead weight as you continued carrying yourself around.

You stumbled on your feet, too intoxicated to walk straight. The sharp stiletto heel that accompanied your dress was not working in your favor either, and they were frankly becoming quite painful.

“I need to sit down,” You slurred in a hushed yet collected manner.

“One second angel,” He whispered, reminding himself not to disrupt his neighbors.

It wasn’t your fault that Rossi's parties always consisted in a very sweet, very endless supply of the most exquisite cocktails you’d ever tasted. It’s not everyday you got to taste such bougie liquor and given your big sweet tooth, and Garcia’s pesky persistence to get you to follow along her alcohol tasting spree, all those free drinks were dangerous at your disposal.

Penelope had passed over this tart but perfectly sweetened strawberry drink she had encountered and you made the grave mistake of trying it. Just when the flavors melted in your mouth, you immediately made your way to the bar in search of your own, downing that one and three more in less than fifteen minutes.

In hindsight, that was a horrible decision. Spencer knew that if he had been glued to your hip, just like he usually was at these or any social event for that matter, he’d never let you drink as much and as fast as you did. He had nagged about something with rapid absorption and rapid increase in BAC— you were too drunk to remember any of the information he was dumping your way if you were being honest.

You began slowing down once the nausea and severe dizziness settled in. Usually, you knew your limits with alcohol. You knew how much got you drunk enough to loosen up, and you knew how much was too much, thanks to a few situations where you had to learn the hard way. However, something about the sweetness and the inability to taste any alcohol whatsoever threw you off your radar.

And here you are, dragging yourself against Spencer’s body and back into his apartment, too drunk to even walk and feeling like you were about to literally throw up any and every thing in your system.

Spencer pushed the door open, managing to balance you in his other arm as he unlocked the door swiftly. He walked in with you by his side, throwing the keys into the small metal dish by the door and now using both hands to keep you steady.

You remained quiet, trying desperately to focus on keeping the nausea down and not throwing up. “Spence,”

“What's wrong?” He asked, looking down at you as you dug your forehead into his chest, grappling at his shirt with a rough tug.

“I feel really sick,” The world around you was spinning and that pit in your stomach was getting harder to push down. He matted down the top of your tousled hair, tucking a few stray strands behind your ears.

“Do you need to throw up?” He asked, voice soft and comforting.

“I think so,” The nausea seemed to hit like a tidal wave, and all you needed was to lie down. You needed to lie down. Just the mention of puking was enough to get you to gag. Immediately freaked out and panicked, you gave a persistent nod, already pushing yourself off of him and making a very crooked B-line for the bathroom, knowing you were going to throw up.

Once past the bathroom door, you fell to your knees opening the lid of the toilet and hurling the contents of your stomach into it. You gagged, retching loudly while tears pricked the corners of your eyes and everything around you hurt.

Spencer followed closely behind, crouching beside you and pulling up your hair into a messy makeshift ponytail while his other came to rub comforting circles on your back, sitting through your discomfort by your side.

It was ironic really. Spencer had always been extremely opposed to anything germ related and this seemed to be his worst nightmare. If anyone knew about this, they’d probably not be able to believe how Spencer didn’t run in the opposite direction and quite literally ran right towards you and your germ related issues. Since he started dating you, he let certain things slide. He shared more of his personal space and didn’t mind if that included sharing things he wouldn’t tend to share around others.

He never thought twice about it if it brought you comfort. It came to him naturally, putting you and your comfort and happiness first.

You spit out the remaining acidic taste of bile into the toilet and groaned heavily. Your nostrils burned and so did the back of your throat, but all of the nausea was immediately alleviated from your system.

“Mhm, sexy,” You said, reaching over for a piece of toilet paper and wiping down your mouth. Spencer huffed a laugh through his nose, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “This is embarrassing.”

“This?” He said, voice jumping into one of fake shock. You threw a glare over your shoulder and his face immediately melted into a sweet smile, rubbing your back with just a bit more clarity. “I’ve seen you in worse predicaments,”

“How do you feel?” You turned, resting your back against the toilet after flushing the contents away and turning towards him.

“I feel better,” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut and attempting to blink away the tears and the burning sensation of your nose.. “But I probably look very disgusting.”

He tilted his head with a shrug, wholeheartedly answering. “You don’t look disgusting,”

“Liar,” You said with narrowed eyes, smiling playfully.

He shook his head with one of his signature smiles, those that tugged slightly to the right and crinkled the corner of his eyes just perfectly. He reached up, grabbing the empty glass cup that sat on the side of his sink, and was now filled with water. He handed you the glass which you took without complaint. “Drink,”

You drank down the whole glass, wanting to get the disgusting aftertaste out of your mouth. “Better?”

“Much,” You nodded, smiling up at him, feeling instantly better but still dizzy. “I feel like, rejuvenated or something,”

You reached back to push yourself up off the ground, only for Spencer to set a firm hand on your shoulder keeping you still.

“Give yourself a minute,” He told you. “You feel better after vomiting following excessive alcohol consumption mainly due to the removal of alcohol and its irritating effects on the stomach, but you need a few seconds.”

You hummed, picking at a rhinestone on your dress. “Does that mean I should expel all my stomach's contents everytime I overdrink to feel better?”

“No,” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You shouldn’t even drink enough to get to the point of having to throw up in the first place, love,”

“But those strawberry drinks were so good Spence,” You threw your head back with a pout.

“Yeah, yeah,” He dismissed with a playful tone. He hooked his fingers around your elbows. “Up,”

You steadied yourself with a tight grip on his shoulders and winced at the bright white light of the bathroom. He pushed you back, knocking the back of your knees into the toilet and forcing you to sit down on it with a soft thud. He crouched down and reached over to knead at the straps of your heel and promptly remove them.

He set them to the side and wordlessly moved into his room, grabbing one of his spare t-shirts and making his way back into the bathroom, where you watched him with weary eyes and a very sleepy but adoring smile.

Everything felt fuzzy but just seeing him work his way around you with such ease made your heart beat insanely.

“It’s not fair that you’re so pretty,” You voiced. Spencer opened his mouth to answer but could only mustered a stammered chuckle, blushing profusely but trying to resist laughing at the slurring in your voice.

“I’m pretty?” He asked. You nodded.

“Very,” He reached his hands out, grabbing yours and pulling you up.

“Is it okay if I take your dress off?” He asked, turning you around so your back was facing him. His fingers skimmed across your already exposed shoulders and back and everything felt so heightened that you shuddered at the ghost of his touch.

“Thought you’d never ask,” You said, shooting him a suggestive smile over your shoulder. He said your name with a warning, not faltering in the slightest.

“I’m kidding!” For the most part at least.

“Well, given since you can’t sleep in this dress,” His calloused fingers traced your shoulders in a soothing rhythm. “I brought you one of my shirts but I need to take off your dress in order to put it on,”

Your body seemed to feel magnetized to the floor, pulling your every movement down with a huge weight. Which was probably the alcohol having its effect on you. You felt stupefied but all you could think of was just how tired you were.

“That’s fine Spence,” You murmured, allowing his fingers to skim down your shoulders and towards the dress's zipper. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to rest them while his hands moved around your back.

He pulled it down, all so gently and smoothly that you were growing even dizzier than you were with more than three cocktails in you.

“I love this dress,” You stated, watching as the sleeves loosened from your shoulders and began sliding down. The cold air hit your bare skin and you merely shivered as it fell and rested on the plush flesh of your hips.

“So do I,” He smiled, slipping his own shirt over your head. You huffed as he pushed the dress down your hips, allowing his shirt to fall over your upper body and cover you as best as it could while picking up the pool of fabric from the floor and laying it out against the toilet. “You looked very beautiful.”

You really did. The way that specific black sequined dress hugged your figure in every single angle and crease possible, flaunting off your body shape perfectly, made Spencer weak at his knees. He didn’t know how he didn’t drop everything the second he saw you to pull you elsewhere private and kiss you until neither of you could breathe.

“Looked? As in past tense?” You turned, facing him with a fake betrayal plastered across your features. “That’s rude,”

“You are insufferable,” He reached back, grabbing your spare toothbrush and putting a nice amount of toothpaste on it. “Now let me brush your teeth so I can kiss you,”

You surrendered your never ending teasing with a sigh, grabbing the hem of his shirt as he held your chin tenderly, brushing your teeth. Throughout the whole three minutes, you couldn’t hold back from allowing yourself to re-learn every single scratch and line on Spencer’s face, engraving its every detail and beauty into a small space in your brain.

Once he was finished and you had rinsed your mouth out with water, you were eternally grateful that the acidic taste in your mouth and lips had been replaced with a fresh minty one. “There,”

You hummed, pulling Spencer in by the said hem of his t-shirt and tilting your chin up towards him, smiling at him like an idiot. “Hi,”

“Hey,” His hands reached up, cradling your face tenderly in his palms, pouring any and every ounce of love he had in him onto you with a firm kiss.

“My legs are killing me,” You said, nuzzling your nose into his cheek and hugging his torso. He rubbed your back with a kiss on the top of your forehead. “I want to lay down,”

“I know but I need to get your makeup off, angel,” He murmured.

You groaned, needing to just get to bed or else you’d literally collapse “You specifically know that if you leave it on overnight, the buildup of makeup, along with dirt, oil, and pollutants that you collect on your skin throughout the day accumulates on its surface and can cause skin issues and breakouts.”

You narrowed a glare. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right,”

“I always am,” He smiled proudly.

“Okay now you’re just pushing it,” He reached back, grabbing a makeup removing wipe from its respective package and dragging it very smoothly across your cheeks, lips, eyes and forehead— any part of your face he could get at. You shivered at the chilliness it gave your flared up cheeks.

Spencer was so gentle with you it made your heart swell in size at just how much attention and care he put into everything he did for you. If you weren’t as tired—and as out of it— as you were right now, you really would pull him down and kiss him anywhere (and everywhere) until your heart stopped beating as much as it was. Although realistically speaking the kissing would probably cause your palpitations to worsen.

He managed to get as much mascara off as he could but the waterproof substance stuck to the bottom of your eyes with a fierce grip. He tossed the wipe into the trashcan and quickly swiped his thumbs across the bottom of your eyes with a very docile brush.

“How do I look?” You said, narrowing your eyes with humor, knowing you probably looked absolutely disheveled. Spencer cocked a brow at you, reaching back and undoing the tie that held your hair into the gorgeous updo thing you had going on.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” He still said, pressing a chaste kiss to the bridge of your nose. His hands continued working at your hair, to which you let your eyes flicker close, resisting the uncontrollable urge to moan out loud as the pads of his fingers rubbed your irritated scalp soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice came out way more breathier than intended.

“What for?” He asked, letting his hands rest on the side of your neck.

“This,” It wasn’t exactly flattering— the state he had seen you in. And for some reason you felt embarrassed at the thought of him seeing you so exposed and in some shape or form. “I don’t know I feel like I made a fool of myself,”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know— I feel guilty that you have to take care of me.”

“But I love taking care of you,” He murmured, instilling such a delicate tone with you that it was impossible to feel uncertain about anything. “Don’t say sorry,”

He kissed you, perfectly, just like he always did. “If you say so,”

It was true. Spencer loved, absolutely treasured, moments where he could take care of you in his own special way. Be gentle and remind you just how much he absolutely loved you.

“Am I done now?” You huffed, slumping forward as all the bones in your body begged to sleep.

“Mhm,” He pulled back, scanning you entirely. “Good to go.”

[anantaru]

synopsis. you got alhaitham to tutor you, although he uses a method you weren't quite expecting, ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ cw, fingering, soft dom alhaitham, petnames used: good girl, fem! reader ᰔ

"repeat that paragraph, that one, read it to me," shuddered and twisted, you weakly nod back at alhaitham's words, the veil of lust drawing across his face.

you admire his honed jaw and poised tone, the perfect shade of red on his cheeks, no trace of imperfections except a lustre ignite of fire shaped inside the yearning in his eyes.

for now, you were only capable to re-read half of the paragraph as he digs the finger deeper inside before curling it, curling it hard, nudging your puffy cunt as you close your eyes at the impact, alternating between squeezing his hand with your thighs and parting your legs in obvious invitation.

alhaitham continues to lightly stroke over your searing walls, tracing his way further until you squirm at the mind-altering press on your cunt, your hole clenching around the digit, holding the finger in for him to never leave you, "yeah, good girl— ugh, but what else? that's not all," he grins as you sneakily ride his hand, his cock hardening inside his pants.

you rest your head on his shoulder, your focus forced on holding onto the book as good as you could.

you attempt to continue, founding it to be futile when he fucks you with a precision that quickened your blood.

"what else do you got for me?" he repeats.

"c-can we just forget about studying already?" you attempt to reason, stuttering over your words, "you know i can't— i want more," as you cough out and squirm, your hips shifting forward so your clit could grind against the heel of his hand ever so often, "i can't focus like this,"

you were correct, in fact, you were certain no one in all of sumeru could ever focus on a single task when a man such as alhaitham himself, no matter how aggravating at times, would look at someone with such hunger in his eyes, a gaze filled to perpetual sharpness.

you do not want him to stop, you want him to do more.

"you seem to enjoy it," the confidence in his tone could not be any clearer, "very much."

he tilts his head to look at you, the brush of his lips against your cheek making you whimper, the following scrape of his teeth hovering against your jawline tempting out a shiver after such tenderness.

a sensual thrust of his hand repeatedly curls and digs into you, knocking the air from your lungs as you clench as strongly as you could around a single digit, his finger rubbing just so against the furthest, most delicious spots of your walls that it increased the force and pressure on your tight belly from the inside.

how long until you break?

his finger wiggles inside, the touch exquisitely precise, awfully confident, and you found yourself in an inescapable position, impossible to hold yourself back from sinking into the sensation of feeling him. just having him touch you.

"you want me to put another finger?" he kisses your cheek tenderly.

your skin holds against sweat and desperation, tickling the hairs on your skin as a satisfactory pleasure could be felt ebbing and flowing through the entirety of your body.

"yes, please another," you breathe, greeting the scribe with a little more than soft excitement in your voice— but you sounded so angelic to him, your voice silk alike, drowning in a river of solace.

shameless in his doings, alhaitham smirks against you, his lips a hairbreadth away from your ear, "really? you think you got that?"

you nod in certain ecstasy, keeping one hand wrapped around his wrist as he pleasures you, stretching and burning into your hole.

the scribe remains confident in wanting to embed his touch, all of it, on you— not only that but his scent too, he needs your body to pick it up until his aura webs all over your most delicate spots naturally, nothing comparing to the feeling of fullness he gives you.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Fellow Honest - Playful Dress Vignette

"My stars, a grave insult!"

[Scalding Sands – Silk City]

Fellow: Now, ladies and gentlemen!

Fellow: What you are about to see here is a one-of-a-kind wonder.

Fellow: This is truly a genuinely invaluable show you are about to witness.

[rabble, rabble]

Fellow: Nice, them people're finally startin' to gather…!

Fellow: If you're interested in what I have to show, please, drop a few madol in this can over here. Any amount is fine～!

Fellow: And now, feast your eyes…

Fellow: On this… A one-of-a-kind puppet that can walk on its own without strings!

Fellow: What do you think, Mister? Madam? Doesn't it look so life-like? Amazing, is it not!?

Fellow: This exquisite beastman doll is the only one of its kind.

Fellow: You all are fortunate indeed to see such a fantastical sight. If your interest was piqued, I implore you to leave a token of appreciation…

[rabble, rabble]

Fellow: …Eh? It's not a puppet? A normal living being?

Fellow: HOW RUDE! WHAT EVIDENCE HAVE YOU FOR YOUR ACCUSATION!?

Fellow: Please, look carefully. It might be able to move without strings, but even if I poke or tickle it, it won't even cry out or laugh.

Fellow: It is a beautifully crafted puppet. Yes, that's right, there can be no question.

[Gidel nods]

Fellow: Ah, stop, Gidel!

Fellow: …It moved? Oh no, it must have just been a trick of the eye.

Fellow: Or, are you perhaps trying to insinuate that I, Fellow Honest, am a liar?

Fellow: You didn't mean it…? Ahhh, oh, but you've hurt my feelings so～!

Fellow: I've been known as Honest John, a man of integrity, pure and innocent, and yet you would call me a liar…

Fellow: I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD SUFFER SUCH A DAY! MY STARS, A GRAVE INSULT!

Fellow: Hey now, Mister. Since you've damaged my pride like this, feels like you should provide me with a show of good faith and…

Gidel: [sneeze]

Fellow: AH!!

Fellow: U-Uhh… Ladies and gentlemen, I… Hm? You want your money and time back? …No need to get so angry… Hahaha…

Fellow: …Crap.

Fellow: RUN, GIDEL!!

Fellow: Haah… Pant, pant… Did we lose them?

Fellow: …YOU NITWIT! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE RIGHT THEN TO SNEEZE!?

Fellow: Just a little longer and we woulda gotten something extra on top of their spectator fees!

Gidel: …

Fellow: Ugh, whatever. ...All we got to show for that in the end was just a little bit of spare change…

Fellow: …And whatever small bits and bobs of jewelry they had on them.

Fellow: I stealthily swiped them with my magic while those idiots were all focused on you, but there's not much here. Shame.

Fellow: This dump ain't worth staying in. Time to move on, Gidel! Fwahaha!

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Fellow: Look carefully, fair people! What I have here is a magestone. However, this is no ordinary magestone.

Fellow: The date: 1000 years ago; the place: the depths leagues below the Coral Sea. This magestone was said to be sought even by the Great Seven!

Fellow: It may look like an ordinary pebble. So, what makes this an extraordinary find? Once you hear what I have to say, you'll never recover from the shock!

Fellow: Listen and be amazed! This is a miraculous stone where whosoever holds it becomes capable of using magic!

Gidel: ! [honks horn]

Fellow: For you, ladies and gentlemen, I risked life and limb searching high and low for this in the most secluded southern regions.

Fellow: There is only one of these gemstones in existence. We'll start the bidding at 50,000 madol (500 Thaumarks)! Come, come, all who are interested, please raise up a hand!

[silence]

Fellow: …Huh, no one wants to raise a hand? What, do I have before me a gaggle of broke spectators?

Fellow: Heh, gutless, all of you. Ah, but damn it all! Is there not a single one among you with the courage to reach out and grasp the miracle laid out before you!?

Fellow: With icy demeanors like that, even my fleas will laugh at me.

Fellow: …I'm sure you all are simply thinking there's no way you could trust vagabonds like us, isn't that right?

Fellow: You think I'm selling you a fake? You think you'll be wasting your money?

Fellow: Aah, that's no good, my dear fellows! If you mistrust me so fervently, it's not as fun...

Fellow: Don't worry. If you believe in what I tell you, there's nothing for you to be afraid of.

Fellow: COME ON TO THE THEATER!

Fellow: LIFE IS FUN

Fellow: …Ah, there we go, that was quick. 80,000 madol from the gent over there! And 100,000 madol from the one over here!

Fellow: A good call, everyone! With such wise decision-making skills, you all have a future scholar inside you!

Fellow: Fwahahaha! Look at 'em idiots believing at whatever stupid story I throw their way!

Fellow: A magestone that'll give you the ability to use magic～? If something like that really existed, I'd've used it myself.

Fellow: Even the guys who were the most skeptical leapt at the chance once I used my Unique Magic. I sure enjoy pulling the wool over idiots who try to look down on me.

Fellow: Hm, let's see how much we earned today…

Fellow: Two, four, six, eight… Oho, not a bad haul. Look, Gidel, we'll be feasting tonight!

[Gidel hops happily]

Fellow: Word's probably got around by now, especially after I raked in this much. This might be the end of the line for our earnings here…

Gidel: …

Fellow: What? You want to head south this time?

Fellow: Not a bad idea. How 'bout we target vacationers at them fancy resorts?

Fellow: Let's see if we can kindly crash their little enjoyable vacations.

Fellow: …Yeah, that's perfect. You're a genius, Gidel. This time, we'll be the fancy, rich folk out on vacation.

Fellow: We go where we want, when we want. We have nothing and no one tying us down.

Fellow: That's the least we deserve as free-spirited folk!

[Sunset Savanna – Sunrise City]

Fellow: EEEEP～～! I PROMISE, I WON'T DO ANYTHING BAD ANYMORE, I PROMISE!

Fellow: HELP～～～!

[Sunset Savanna – Sunrise City]

Fellow: SHIT! THAT MASSIVE CHEAPSKATE!

Fellow: They were carrying around a crazy fat wallet. They could've spared even a little bit and nothing woulda hurt their bottom line.

Fellow: Yet they caused a fuss just from me trying to swipe a few thousand madol… Ouuuch, it's still throbbing where they hit me.

[stomachs gurgle]

Fellow: Man, I'm starving. It's gonna suck to go another night without dinner.

Fellow: Ain't there something we can find to eat…?

[Gidel starts to drift away]

Fellow: …Hey, wait, Gidel! Don't open that can!

Fellow: Geez… Don'tcha see what it says right here? It's got OIL inside. You can't eat it, even if you open it.

Fellow: You do the same thing every time you're hungry. I've taught you dozens of times, can't you read what it says?

Gidel: …

Fellow: C'mon, squat here a little. I'll draw it out on the ground, so don't forget this time, 'kay?

Fellow: O is for Orange! It looks round and tasty, don't it?

Fellow: I is for Ice Cream! That thin, ice popsicle was pretty tasty the other day, wasn't it?

Fellow: L is for laugh! Don't it look like a smile when you look at it on it's side?

Fellow: …Why is L the only thing that's not food? I couldn't think of anything, so sue me.

Fellow: There's only so much I can teach you, too.

Fellow: Tch. If I had been able to go to school… By now I woulda been more…

[Gidel pats Fellow]

Gidel: …

Fellow: What? We don't need school to fill our bellies?

Fellow: Sigh, oh, Gidel. You know, you're…

Fellow: TOTALLY RIGHT!!

Fellow: That's right, we're living just fine even without going to school.

Fellow: Learning whatever with books and pencils is utter nonsense.

Fellow: We'll just clean out those suckers that went though their oh so lovely education, and just live a life that's even fuller.

Gidel: !

Fellow: That's right, leave it to me! Follow me, kid, and one day, you'll be a grand showstopper too.

Fellow: We'll get some halfwit students to dance for us on a stage for our own amusement!

Fellow: Now… What's more important right now is figuring out what we're going to eat tonight. I'll try to find something, so you start a fire.

Fellow: Just throw whatever you find into the fire, like wooden crates, or posters or… Hm?

Fellow: This job posting here… Oh, well, well!

Fellow: Look here, Gidel, That one prick is looking to hire someone. And this time, it's at an amusement park!

Fellow: I don't know what they're planning, but… Last time we did work for 'em, we made a killing.

Fellow: I can't stand how he looks down on us, but there's a lot more to gain out of it…

Fellow: Why don't we just go hear them out, Gidel? If we don't like it, we can just bail.

Fellow: We live only for today, never thinking about what tomorrow might bring. We do whatever work keeps our lives free and fun. 'Cause we can go and do whatever we want.

[Gidel nods, Fellow whistles as they go off]

Requested by @sakurakudo.

[4vlad]

My master

—summary: Alucard, the Vampire who proclaimed himself your servant, drinks your blood for the first time

—warnings: sexual content, master/servant relationship, non-consensual touching, dirty talk, blood drinking, human/vampire relationship

words: 1.468.

The day could not have been more exhausting, you had to work late because your boss didn't have more staff, it left you exhausted, very tired but you were finally able to get out of that hell, the bad thing is that it is very dark and cold at night, the London streets are eerily silent tonight.

"Scared dear?" He says a loud voice to which you scream and turn around throwing your bag towards the person behind you, the man catches the bag quickly "is this for me?" He laughs. "Ah! Alucard! You scared me, don't do that again!" You approach him and take his bag from him, "my sincere apologies, my master" you shudder at the dominant alias, Alucard is a vampire who had proclaimed himself as your servant months ago, you think he is crazy and you have certainly realized that he is, you were not a dominant person, much less someone of authority, you honestly don't know why he says you are his Mistress and you haven't asked him anyway. From the little you know about him is that he is a very strong, self-centered and prankster Vampire, you have even seen him in action a couple of times.

Alucard laughs at your ramblings while you both head to your apartment, even though the walk was long neither of them spoke much, as always Alucard only followed you because according to him it is to "protect you from danger" that you appreciated but you also don't want to abuse his goodness.

You enter your apartment and Alucard follows you by closing the door behind him "I must say that your area is very cozy Mistress" he takes off his hat and glasses before sitting on the sofa that he himself has claimed as "his", you Without giving it much importance go to your room and changes your clothes into more comfortable ones, minutes later You returns with the vampire "...I'm going to cook chicken and French fries, do you want?" You ask the vampire "No, dear human, I'm not a big fan of fried food." You thought for a moment whether to offer him a salad since he was a vampire, but he didn't seem to hate human food either, after all, he's eaten with you a few times, well, when you cook for him. .

You got down to work while the vampire just watched you as always, at first you were afraid of this monster, his energy was and is a little sinister, but over time you began to appreciate his company, he saved you a few times from some malefactors even, their presence still bothers you a little but you put up with it, Alucard has made it clear to you many times that he has no intention of harming you, that he is your servant and is here to obey your orders, whatever you ask of him. He's weird, you think.

In your rambling you get distracted and accidentally cut the skin on your hand, a sharp pain runs through you, thick blood falls from your hand to your elbow, you quickly turn off the stove "Ugh!" You groan in pain as you head towards the dishwasher to wash your wound.

The vampire, with his developed sense of smell, perceived a sweet and tempting aroma in the air, a fragrance that was familiar and irresistible at the same time. It was your smell of blood, a signal to his thirsty nature. However, there was something different about this smell, a subtle but unmistakable touch of sweetness, as if he belonged to a human being with a unique and exquisite blood. Alucard quickly stopped you, he appeared in front of you with a smile from ear to ear "Let me help you with that My Dear Mistress, it will be a pleasure to clean and heal your wound" you got a little scared, you were dripping blood with an extremely violent vampire, danger!

Alucard sensed your fear and quickly calmed you down or at least he tried to. "I won't bite you, I promise, you don't have to be scared, sweet human, I won't hurt you unless you give me those orders," he says with a deep but soft voice at the same time. While the vampire convinces you, he takes you to the couch and sits you on top of his legs. You are embarrassed but you still give in. You raise your hand to let the blood drip into your Vampire's mouth. Alucard opens his mouth, big as a beast, his fangs sharp, each one pointed, he sticks out his long, fat tongue, he is eager, salivating even before you will agree to feed him.

A heavy drop of blood falls on the vampire's tongue, his pupils dilate and his gaze becomes intense, the beautiful beast grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth, his tongue was cold, the sensation of the wet and heavy tongue of Alucard slightly relieves your pain, he tastes your entire hand and your fingers, from top to bottom from one side to the other, his tongue moves gently enjoying the taste of your blood, he simply knows that he has never tasted a taste as sweet as it. Yours, it's the first time he's tasted your blood, he knew you were as tasty as he imagined.

Shadow hands appear around you to caress you, his hands are everywhere! On your abdomen, legs and thighs! How disrespectful!

You get embarrassed and try to take his hand away but he is stronger, his grip is firm on his food.

Alucard's hands caress you gently, kneading your skin over your clothes, he wants to taste everything about you.

once he finishes his meal, his eyes are fixed on you, his irises a bright red color, he smiles at you softly but with a dominant expression, he lets out a deep laugh as he brings you even closer to him "my mistress... You are a virgin..." He says with a deep voice, you move your hands away and put it to your chest, your cheeks turn red because of Alucard's words, did he know it just by tasting your blood? What does it have to do with you being a virgin? What a dirty pervert!

"So what...?"

He just laughs, he knew you were shy but you were also sweet and kind, always gentle and ready for anything, he couldn't believe that a little thing as pretty as you was still a virgin, he couldn't believe that even though you was so beautiful, so tasty, no one has corrupted you, well...it's not like any human can properly teach you what carnal pleasures are.

He purred, the taste and your aroma were overwhelming, his Master is as tasty as she looks.

"Mmm...wouldn't you like to feel what sexual pleasure is like, little human?" He doesn't care if you were a virgin or not but now? Oh...he wanted to corrupt you in every way possible, the smell of your embarrassment and excitement from the dirty talk invaded the vampire's senses.

You felt your panties stick to your lips because of the humidity "..." You remained silent, is this how this creature addresses his master? Did you know that he was insolent, what good is he proclaiming himself your servant if he doesn't respect you as such? Your eyebrows knit together in an expression of anger and embarrassment. He laughs at your reaction.

"My master..." he says with a suggestive voice, almost like a whisper, "it's been a long time since I gave myself to a Human," you don't respond. "You know that I am all yours, your servant, I am here to please your needs, to please you my beloved master..." Again he begins to purr. Your heart beats hard as you feel the hardness in the Vampire's crotch.

He was a burlesque and a pervert but he knew how to seduce a woman, using dirty words but at the same time being a gentleman.

He has never given himself this way to a master, not even his previous masters, but you? How could you be so delicious? So cute? He was willing to please you if you wanted, he just waited for you to say the words.

"You...you are not my servant Alucard" you get up from the couch "And I don't want...I don't want to do that..."

Alucard sighs disappointed but accepts "even if you don't want to be my mistress, I want you to know that I am here if you need to satisfy your needs, dear," he smiles.

"Please forgive my insolence, no matter how much I want you, I have to earn your affection and I will do it appropriately" he rises to his height and bends down again to kiss your hand in an act of chivalry.

Sorry if there are spelling mistakes, English is not my first language, I hope you enjoyed! You are free to leave me ideas by the way. AO3: rosemary06 (click)

[neon-junkie]

How would TBB react to seeing the reader about to leave on a night out dressed up in a super hot outfit?

Gender-neutral reader, but feminine presenting. Words like 'beautiful' and 'pretty' are used!

Hunter - Even with half of his face tattooed, he still manages to blush through the thickness of the ink. - He's truly lost for words. - Hunter has an adorable stutter as he compliments, "wow, you look… nice- I mean, incredible. Good. Beautiful?" - Hunter then facepalms as he scolds himself for picking "nice" as his first compliment. Ugh, you look so much more than nice! - You'll both be giggling as Hunter takes a deep breath, and begins going into detail about how good you look, highlighting the specific parts that really stand out to him. - You're heading out with friends, but Hunter is quietly hinting that he wants to come along. Totally not because he's jealous or anything, but because he hopes to meet your friends, right? The friends that he's met several times before? Yeah! - Tell him that you'll still be looking this good when you come back home later tonight, and he'll get the hint. - However, he may need to leave a fresh mark or two on your neck, just to get the point across that you're taken.

Echo - This poor, poor man is going to turn the deepest shade of red when he finally sees you. - Why, just WHY did you have to wear that specific outfit that he loves so much?! And you're going out without him too?! Oh, what a tease! - Echo is lost for words as he gushes over you. He feels like it's his wedding day - How is he this lucky? How did he land an angel like you? - There's a tear in his eye as you smother him in kisses, reassuring him that you're all his, that you're the lucky one for being with him, that you can't wait to come home and snuggle up with him later. - Echo doesn't ask for much, but he would like to be kept in the loop on your whereabouts. Purely for your own safety! - "And when you reach the next bar, just comm me. Your friends have my comm number too, don't they? If anything goes wrong, and you want picking up-" blahblahblah. - One final smother in reassuring kisses, and you're good to hit the town!

Wrecker - His mouth instantly hangs open, his eyes turn wide, and his facial expression swiftly turns into a grin as he comments, "HOT!!" - You know in cartoons where the character's mouth drops open, and they begin howling and barking? Yeah, that's Wrecker. - Seriously, you look hot, and Wrecker's going to ensure that you know it. - "Look at you! I can't believe I got myself an angel as sweet as you!" - He'll mention how he's sad that he's not tagging along, but he'll assure you that it's important you spend your time with your friends. - Wrecker isn't as clingy as he seems. After all, he'll be right here, waiting for your return. - And when you do return, all your hangover needs will be met. A tall glass of water waiting for you, a midnight snack, breakfast in bed, and a big buff man to cuddle you back to health!

Tech - This will go one of two ways: - Option one: Tech eyes you up and down, and with a firm nod, he comments, "that is suitable attire for your evening. I hope you enjoy yourself." - Option two: Tech's brain short circuits. He can barely muster up a thought, let alone a comment. Radio silence, but his expression says it all. - Either way, Tech is more than impressed with your outfit choice, and how stunning you look. He just… struggles to find the words, like a deer in the headlights. - Give him a few moments, and you'll be met with suitable praise. "How exquisite you look, a truly elegant and radiant creature." - Tech can't pinpoint one specific word to describe how beautiful you look, so instead, he selects the most complex and in-depth ones. He doesn't want to rely on a 'standard compliment.' - A few kisses later, and you're off to meet your friends. All the while, Tech begins pacing around the Marauder like a lost puppy. He needs to keep himself occupied until you return!

Crosshair - He's instantly thirsty for you, smiling cheekily as he eyes you up, gawking at the sight of you. - Crosshair has a way with words, and spews out his praise, all whilst kneading at your waist, his hands trailing down to grab your ass whilst he steals a handful of kisses from you. - And then it dawns on him… - You're going out with your friends tonight, not him… - Jealousy swiftly takes over, and his compliment turn into teasing (yet petty) jabs. Nothing to hurt your feelings, though. - "Any reason why you're wearing this tonight? Do you need more attention? Am I not enough for you?" - Whilst his tone is teasing, there's a desperate need for validation. - Yes, he knows you'd never be stupid and hurt him, but… can you please remind him one more time? - Don't be surprised when you leave, and minutes later, Crosshair sends you a holotext. "Comm me if you need anything, Beautiful."

[s0lairee]

you can imagine how insane this made me when the blurb itself had me on the edge of my seat 😭❤��❤️

something to believe in

or: and i am crowned king, over all the lands of wonder.

gn!reader, warnings for yandere-typical obsession and mild stalking, sweet little warden’s what-could-have-been. i beg, i beg – do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you! an AU of the AU – consider this an alternate origin story for the vega and warden of human nature, that’s a little less canon-compliant and a little more obsessive. inspired by turn around, look at me by the vogues and shakespeare’s sonnet 147, and forever indebted to the utter gorgeousness that comes from the wonderful @sincerelywhistler. don’t bother haunting me. warden getting a certain someone under their skin in 9000 words or less.

part of the skyside oops! all yandere! collab for halloween – do go and check that out to see all the spooky, creepy goodness that the server has to offer! there's some incredible talent on display in there, and i'm very very grateful to the lovely @angelicaether for masterminding it all -- thank you for letting me in to peddle my ridiculous fascination with vega and warden yet again 💕😅💫

series masterlist

main masterlist

(...wait, what do you mean, 'vega's not the yandere one here'? you couldn't possibly mean – no, you wouldn't dare...)

He's so beautiful.

Grey light flickers coldly across the wall, and the droning chatter of the radio fills the air. The room is more crowded than usual, dull footsteps muffled by thin carpet, and it’s almost uncomfortably warm.

How long has it been? You can’t really remember. Months, at least, perhaps even a year – and yet the same thought echoes through your head even now, all this time later.

It’s oddly reassuring, to think of his beauty. A comforting thought, a soothing refrain. A smooth, well-worn groove in your mind, familiar ease as it slides into place. There are so few things that you can be sure of, so few things you can rely upon, that it’s reassuring to have something to hold onto. Something that you know won’t ever change, something that couldn’t possibly leave you.

It’s reliable, a rare constant amid the habitual chaos. It’s calm, and it’s sweet, and it’s kind. It might even be true.

I hope it’s true.

You wouldn’t know. You’ve never actually seen him.

It's become habit now, whenever you have a moment. You’re almost surprised that they haven’t asked you to start paying rent, with how often you find yourself here. Ageing monitors flicker with blurry static, the monochrome shapes of prisoners reflected exactly in your eyes.

The human officers here in the security room don't like it, but there's not actually much they can say – you’ve got the clearance to be here, because your job requires you to have access to the inmate records that are kept in this room. And even when they do try to keep you out, you're not above a little harmless cloaking to sneak in here unnoticed. Hiding is second nature to someone like you, and you’re very, very good at it.

None of them are that good at magic anyway, but it wouldn't really matter if they were. No human, Department or otherwise, could find you in a million years, even if they wanted to.

You’d actually been right here in this room, standing over by the filing cabinet, when you’d first heard of him. The Stealth who’s normally in here was sitting at his desk opposite the door, filling out some sort of incident report, and you’d overheard him complaining about it to one of the Freelancer correctional officers nearby.

It’s not as though incident reports have ever been anything unusual at this facility, but your demon’s senses weren’t fooled. The smell of blood was thick in the air, unmistakable even as it was drowned out by a stinging wave of antiseptic, along with the persistent, unsettled tension bubbling in his core. It was unusually sour, but not bitter – you remember having to fight the urge to wrinkle your nose. Something must have happened.

The story, when you started paying attention to the conversation, wasn’t entirely routine – but it didn’t sound like anything too out of the ordinary. An altercation during the morning rounds, a mistake by one of the human wardens. Six injured, and two in critical condition. A prisoner being moved from the high-security corridor to the maximum-security block.

That sort of thing doesn’t exactly happen every day at the facility, but it’s to be expected when you’re dealing with so many dangerous inmates. That’s the whole reason why the maximum-security building even exists – this place, just like the countless other containment facilities scattered across the country, is more or less a dumping ground for whoever the Department can’t fix, and whatever they aren’t powerful enough to kill.

Mildly curious, you’d snuck a look down at his desk as you walked past, trying to nonchalantly peek at the report while the Stealth was looking away. Eyes darting across the page in a split second, greedily taking in as much as you could. He hadn’t filled much of it out, but right there, at the top of the page—

An identification number, and a prisoner’s name. Vega.

Vega.

The name hadn’t been immediately familiar, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t recognised it. You remember the familiar feeling of the sky stretching out inside your skull, how readily the slim shape of Lyra had revealed itself to you, its brightest star glittering in your mind’s eye.

An altercation, eight wounded. A demon prisoner, dangerous enough that the Department had wanted to put them away in one of the most highly-guarded containment facilities in the country… but who hadn’t killed a single human warden when the opportunity arose?

There had been no picture attached to the report, but all you really needed was the name. You’d looped back around to the records cabinet, gaze darting around the room to check that nobody was watching you, before opening the drawer where the high-security inmate records were kept – at the time, you didn’t have access to the maximum-security files, so you’d been hoping that his record hadn’t been moved yet.

A-E, F-J, K-O... The file separators had been put in rather haphazardly, but luckily they’d all been roughly in the right places. Yellow folders for humans, red ones for demons. Blessedly, the Department’s insistence on keeping paper records as well as digital ones meant that the file had still been there. Silently, you’d pulled the right one free and flipped the folder open, to find—

Oh…

With him being a demon, you knew that you didn’t really need to see a picture. As a matter of course, it’s rare for any of your kind to have a consistent appearance, unless you happen to be involved with long-term human affairs like the Department. A photograph of a demon is almost always useless – all it tells you is that a demon might have worn that face once, but that doesn’t mean that they’d ever worn it before, or would wear it again.

The photo was a little out of focus and slightly distorted, courtesy of the terrible quality that so often plagues photographs of demons. Arcana tends to show up poorly on camera, so demons who don’t bother to synthesise a tangible, physical skin surface usually end up looking blurrier than their surroundings. It’s infuriating for humans, unused to their complicated electrical technologies failing, but until they invent a better type of camera, there’s not actually much they can do about it.

Despite the dim, grainy quality of the photo, the face of the demon looking out at you was utterly striking. Sharp, handsome features, somehow delicate and cruel all at once. The shape of tall horns, cut off at the top by the edge of the frame. Long, dark hair falling down past his shoulders, the suggestion of a bitter smile. A cold, empty glare that seemed to slice right through the paper it was printed on.

He’s so beautiful.

You’d only been able to stare, somehow entranced. He’d looked so… so demonic, nothing filtered out or watered down, in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever seen on Elegy. You can remember how your own eyes ached to see his, sclera unashamedly black and shiny, how your head began to pound, suddenly all-too-aware of the pressure of keeping your horns cloaked.

You’d held an unnecessary breath as you brought the photo closer to your face, as if looking harder might reveal something new you’d missed. The picture showed so disappointingly little, and all you wanted was to know more. What else about him was demonic? Did he breathe? Did he blink? Would his claws be long, would his tongue be pointed – and if he bared his fangs, how many would there be?

His file wasn’t especially long or detailed, so you’d raced through it, soaking up all the information you could. A Sadism demon, imprisoned for experimenting on humans, captured after a fight with an incubus somewhere in downtown Dahlia. Unable or unwilling to speak out loud, broadly uncooperative when approached outside of feeding periods, generally passive but highly dangerous if provoked.

Skilled manipulator, known to use violence, intimidation, and coercion. Openly admits to significant history of human experimentation, with no signs of guilt or desire for repentance. Ambivalence towards human suffering and casual threats of violence strongly indicate potential to cause significant harm and/or fatal injury. Consider a possible threat to life.

More than anything else, he sounded fascinating.

Without really noticing, you’d stopped paying attention to the rest of the security room – you jumped at the sudden whine of the radio at your hip as it crackled to life, the voice of one of your superiors from upstairs calling you back. Hurriedly, you’d jammed all of the papers into the folder before slotting it back into the file organiser, re-locking the drawer, and scurrying out of the room without looking at anyone.

For the rest of the day it had been all you could think about, this mysterious demon locked away in the depths of Block E, the maybe-shape of his once-silhouette burned into your brain. What would he be like? Would his voice be high or low? What would his aura feel like, as it curved to fit against yours? Filling out paperwork, preparing for tomorrow’s rehabilitation sessions, trudging into meetings behind your supervisor – you might as well have been a million miles away, consumed with curiosity and the thought of a distant star.

Those thoughts never went away, only getting stronger and stronger as days began to pass, then weeks, then months. The shape of Lyra seemed to call to your unconscious mind, its sparkle almost as comforting as that of your own constellation, singing out through the blackness of space to grasp the glimmer of your namesake star. You began to come into work even earlier than before, finding ever more excuses to loiter in the security room and stare at the small, faded monitor that held the camera feed you were desperate to see.

It didn’t matter that the video was always blurry. It didn’t matter that there was no sound, or no colour, or that it would skip and stutter every few seconds. He never moved, except to shift his gaze minutely from the wall to the door – he never spoke, and even if he had it wouldn’t have been aloud. With no window for the sunlight to move across, even his shadow was still, painted black across the wall behind him.

Day after day, hour after hour, a perfect statue in the garden of your mind. You watched him endlessly, unblinking eyes swallowing up each grey pixel of his being. Every halting, crackling frame of his existence, precious treasure to be hoarded in the soft fats of your simulated body.

The world had changed, and yet nobody ever noticed. Your supervisor was thrilled that you were working more and talking less, eager to push even more of her responsibilities onto you than she already was. The rest of the office followed suit, the few that had ever spoken to you before now thoroughly disinterested in your new enthusiasm for work, hardly aware of the way your eyes would glaze over as soon as you could sit down at your desk and disappear into a daydream.

It had been a surprise, even to you. You never used to dream.

When you first came to Elegy, you didn’t know how to sleep. You’d been taught what it was, and that humans had to do it, but nobody had ever shown you how it worked. All you knew was that it was something that happened at night, and that a human who didn’t do it would die.

Gradually, you’d managed to figure out roughly what it was. A sort of unconsciousness to allow humans to replenish their energy, that happens in the dark on a soft sleeping pad. It takes hours and hours, and it can only start if they lie very, very still. Their bodies move while they sleep, but not on purpose, and occasionally they see bizarre visions that some say can predict the future.

They call happy visions dreams, and scary visions nightmares. Demons, along with a small number of magical humans, can manipulate these premonitions if they like, but it’s not very kind to do it without permission. If a human finds out that you’ve been secretly messing with their dreams, they’ll get really upset.

It sounded weird. You didn’t want to sleep. It wasn’t something your body would ever need to do, and it didn’t sound like something you’d be interested in. Wouldn’t it be boring, to lie there in the dark without moving for so long? Wouldn’t it be strange, to feel your body moving without your say-so?

You did want to dream, though. What sort of odd things might reveal themselves to you? Maybe it would feel like being one of those human Seers. Demons have always been exempt from the Sight, but you’d wondered if perhaps this would be another way to look into the future.

You’d opened up your work computer and gone on the human internet to see if you could find out more about it, and daydreams sounded like just the right thing. A dream that could happen during the daytime, without needing to waste time sleeping – but unfortunately, upon closer inspection it didn’t seem like quite what you were looking for. It was just a fancy name for being bored, for thinking about random things instead of whatever was going on in real life, and you’d been quite disappointed.

That hadn’t stopped you trying, though. And once you’d started, you’d been hooked.

The life of an Inchoate is nothing if not hungry. An Inchoate demon’s body burns through Arcana faster than any other, a sick sort of penance for being so greedy in its tastes. Nothing satisfies it, nothing can satisfy it. The great chasm inside, the yawning black hole in your core shrieks and wails endlessly, crying out for something to satiate its impossible need. It’s like a child or an animal, this wretched form, thinking of nothing but more, give me more, I need more!

There’s no proof, but you’ve always wondered if that’s why you’ve ended up the way you have. When your hunger can’t eat, it starts to eat you – is it that exhausted desperation, forever staggering and stumbling away from the beast inside, that’s driven you down this path? Open wide, open wide, open wide. When your own body punishes you for the crime of its own existence, what petty rules should you even care to follow?

It’s torture. The entire earth to feed you, and your eternal curse is to starve.

Not then, though. Not when you learnt how to dream. Suddenly, the world was opened to you, the concrete walls of the facility falling easily away. You didn’t have to think. You could let your thoughts drift on the breeze, falling through your fingers like a handful of sand, letting your body do the work as your head floated far away. Papers came and went, stamped and signed, the rhythmic tapping of keyboard clicks a lullaby that soothed you into blissful escapism.

You didn’t have to sit at that dreadful desk, you didn’t have to listen to those awful humans. You could go somewhere else, somewhere good and bright and kind, where the earth was sweet and the stars danced in the sky. It would be a place where you’d never need to be alone – the deep, aching loneliness of life on Elegy would fade into nothingness, and you’d finally have found what you were looking for.

People who would never leave you behind, who would notice when you weren’t there. Who would want to spend time with you, and who would want to talk to you because they liked you, not just because there was nobody else to talk to. Happy, funny, charming people who’d smile when they saw you and sigh when you left – and you’d be just as charming, just as funny, just as happy.

You wouldn’t be missing out, anymore. The special, secret place in your head was filled with sweets and cake and shiny glitter, and every day you dreamt of the same thing. The gnawing inchoate hunger would fade, and you’d finally be satisfied. Filled to the brim with good feelings, permeating every speck of your being, stuffed with happiness and joy and contentment until you could barely even move.

Each detail painted and polished in a thousand rainbow colours, a charmed life that only you could see. The very air would be golden, and the sea clear and warm. Friends, real friends, the sort that you’d always wished for but never really known. For the first time, you’d be someone’s first choice.

As pleasant as those daydreams were, you’d never been able to entirely ignore the quiet, nagging sensation that something was missing – something deep and vital, some unspoken absence right at the aching heart of it. Some feeling that you couldn’t quite place, one you only faintly recognised in the back of your mind. It was oddly raw, tender and bloody like a bite and a bruise all at once. A bitterness, a loneliness, a new sort of hunger that had no name.

No name, that is, until him.

Paper rustling as you flicked through his file, the song of the computer cables and the air conditioner and the CCTV. He was just so irresistibly, incredibly singular, a tantalising mystery. You couldn’t let it go – the perfect image of him, in bright and painful clarity, cutting through the distortion. You wanted him, you want him, in a way you can’t possibly hope to explain.

It’s like a disease. Your daydreams are filled with thoughts of Vega, outlined in passion and coloured with longing. How he’ll hold you like a lover, the smooth slide of his tail against yours, how he’ll smile as your horns knock softly against his when he kisses you. His fangs will surely be sharp as they carve their way into your soft neck, and his claws will surely sting as he takes your waiting hand in his. The saccharine fantasy is as beautiful as it is hazy, vague impressions of flowers and ribbons and sparkles stamped across the inside of your skull.

Perhaps your mind has been warped by the shallow trappings of human romance, the miserable weakness of their feelings – is it truly demonic to want those things, or have you just been on Elegy for too long? Even if you have, does it matter? It doesn’t make the cravings go away. He’s the answer to your prayers. Contentment, companionship, escape.

There’s another feeling, too, that seems to flicker to life when you think of him. Imagining him so close to you, his hands and his fangs and his voice, the drag of your fingers across his simulated skin. The quiet fizz of Arcana as you finally touch him, again and again, the eager harmony of the magic that makes you as it begins to sing with him. It’s dark and rich, settling somewhere deep in your body and making you feel all… all strange. This facsimile of a human body starts to rebel – your mouth suddenly seems too dry, your skin too hot and your heart too fast. You gasp for deep breaths you don’t need, unusually restless, struggling to push down the bubbly, sparkling sensation that crashes over you like a wave.

You don’t know what that feeling is, and it’s frightening and thrilling in equal measure. There’s something addictive about it, the way it drips and pools in the soft tissues of your body like honey, thick and warm and slow. Your body feels elastic, muscles stretching and contracting in the heat, and your eyes close without you even really noticing.

When you meet him, you’ll have to ask him what it is. He must know. Perhaps he’ll teach you.

The plan was always going to be tricky to pull off. Most of your work takes place with human prisoners, so you weren’t even allowed into his cell corridor before he was moved, but now that he’s being kept in the maximum-security block it’s even harder to get access. That place is so heavily surveilled and guarded that it’s practically impossible to get near it – you have to get signed approval from your department head, book in a timed entry window so they know when you’ll be there and for how long, then pass through several high-level security checks before you can go inside.

Even if you could fake your way through all of that, you wouldn’t be able to go in alone regardless. Nobody is allowed to enter unaccompanied, no matter the reason. It's a facility policy that technically applies in all the cell blocks, but in practice it’s only the maximum-security and demon-holding areas that enforce it. Those are the most dangerous places for officers to go alone, where the inmates are far too dangerous or powerful to be dealt with one-on-one, so it makes sense – but for your purposes, it’s an infuriating, insurmountable roadblock.

You’d need to find someone to go with you who wouldn’t mind what you’re going to do, and what are the odds of that? As far as you’re concerned, it’s basically impenetrable.

Unless you count Camelopardalis, that is.

He’s only a temporary fixture at the holding facility, on loan from the headquarters in Dahlia as part of the biennial staff training initiative, and he's so lovely. You'd never had the chance to really meet him before, seeing as this is the first year he’s been assigned to your department, but he’s just so effortlessly friendly that you can’t help but like him. He’s always saying hello to you in the corridors, or striking up a short but sweet conversation at your desk when he passes by, his quiet smile somehow infectious despite his understated nature.

Once, he even managed to miraculously convince your department head to let you take an extra half-hour’s break during lunch, and you’d spent it chatting away together in the cafeteria about all sorts of things. It turns out that he’s remarkably funny once you get him talking, all dry wit and wry observations – you’d almost cried laughing at his impression of the superintendent from upstairs, one hand clinging to his arm to keep yourself upright, and you can still remember the sparkle in his eyes as he lightly rested his free hand on top of yours in return.

The walk back to your desk together had been far too short. He’s such a gentleman, you’ve always thought, so charming and polite.

You find yourself bumping into Camelopardalis – or Cam, as he insists you call him – quite a lot these days, now that you come to think of it. Not that you’re complaining, of course. He makes for extremely pleasant company, kinder to you than you remember any of the humans who normally work here ever being. In fact, you’d probably say that he’s the closest thing to a real, proper friend that you’ve ever had.

It’s not his fault that he’s just a little bit too late.

If only it had been him, this would all be so much easier. In your mind’s eye, you can see it all now, as clearly as anything. He’d do it properly for you, you know he would – flowers and letters and kisses on the doorstep, a shy smile on his face every time he held your hand. Nothing would hurt, and nothing would go wrong. He’d be happy, and you’d be happy too. You would have loved to fall in love with Cam.

The great tragedy of the solar eclipse. In another life, perhaps he could have been something more. But here, now, the jagged shadow of your secret fascination looms too large for you to ever ignore, drowning the small shape of a lone Serenity daemon in its all-consuming darkness.

“After you.”

Harsh, white light bears down on both of you as Cam holds the door open, gesturing to you with his other hand. Dipping your head in thanks, you hurry through the doorway and into the screening room, permit papers in hand.

He’s told you before that he’s been trying to push for more focus on the treatment of demonic prisoners, especially considering how human-heavy the facility staff is, but the higher-ups are never willing to put enough resources into training to make any sort of meaningful difference. Apathy – or maybe just laziness, I guess, he’d said mournfully, over a paper cup of dreadful-tasting office coffee. All these years, and it's like they haven't realised how dangerous it is for humans to even attempt to incarcerate demons. Considering the state of this place, it's a miracle there hasn't been a riot already.

You'd just shrugged, resigned. It's not like they care about any of the inmates, anyway. What made you think they'd do anything special for the demons?

Wishful thinking, probably. But what else can I do?

It's not as if you disagree with him. He's entirely right, and the treatment of demons here needs to change before something goes horribly wrong. But if it just so happens that his attempts to increase staff development might overlap with your curiosity about a certain, very well-guarded demon, then can you really be blamed for what might unfold?

You’d asked him to bring you here as part of your training – a mostly made-up excuse about wanting to get better at working with demonic inmates, rather than being restricted to just human ones. You have clearance to speak to the human maximum-security inmates, and you've seen most of the areas where demonic inmates are kept, even if you can't speak to them. So, you’d managed to persuade Cam that you needed to see the difference between the human and demon restricted areas for yourself – that the only place it would be worth taking you would be the one place you've never been allowed to enter.

Fortunately, he seemed to swallow the excuse easily enough. He even said it wasn't that difficult to get your entry clearance temporarily modified upwards, so that he could take you – it seems like your recent industriousness has paid off with your supervisor. Cam says he thinks it's because she's recognising how efficient and obedient you are, but you suspect that she's hoping to promote you so you’ll be allowed to take on even more of her work. Useless, lazy idiot. All she does is complain about the work everyone else is doing, instead of actually doing anything herself. What do they even keep her around for?

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. You know what you’re here to do.

The security checks go quickly, the two of you ushered through a variety of metal detectors and aura scanners. It’s still kind of funny to you whenever they make you do biometric scans, considering how easy it is for you to fake your way through – you hadn’t even had fingerprints before you started working for DUMP – but it’s probably just so the process is the same for everyone who comes through here.

“Ready?”

Cam gives you a soft, kind smile as he waits by the door to the cell corridor, one hand already on the unlock mechanism. “You remember the plan, right?”

The air in this block is thick and sugary, so heavily saturated with magic that it feels like toffee sticking your teeth together. You nod, trying not to look as jittery as you feel.

“Right hand side, cell number 1028. You’re going to do the talking, and I’m just there to watch.”

Cam dips his head in acknowledgement. “And your panic switch?”

You push your sleeve up just a little, so he can see the flat, orange band around your wrist. It’s coded to your magical signature, just like your normal green one, but an ordinary bracelet wouldn’t be able to get through the intensity of the wards in this block. This one is specially made to work in such a high-saturation environment, and you can feel the powerful magic inside it resonating faintly through your wrist and making your fingers slightly numb.

“Very good,” he says, and the door swings silently open. “Let’s go.”

The cell corridor is wide and bleak, just like every other, all concrete and painted metal. It’s bright, as is standard, grim floodlights blasting the space with blindingly-white light, and the lack of windows makes it impossible to tell whether it’s night or day outside. There’s no breeze, but you grimace at how cold it is, any warmth you might have had leached away in an instant.

Following Cam down the corridor, it’s impossibly quiet. The warding magic in the air is so dense that your footsteps don't echo, layers and layers of energy folding over themselves and slowing your movements so much that it’s difficult to walk – you can imagine that a human would have a hard time even breathing normally. No wonder none of the human officers want to come here. You don’t know for sure, but you imagine that this is how it would feel to walk along the bottom of the sea, the unyielding, compressive power of all that water constricting your body as it bears down on you. Uncompromising force, inescapable pressure.

Your unwitting companion doesn’t know it, but you’ve come prepared. Thanks to your idiot supervisor, you’ve had access to the maximum-security prisoner files for weeks now, so you know exactly which cell you’re really looking for. You’re almost there, you’re almost there! As you pass by, you can’t help but hold your breath in giddy nervousness, the zing of adrenaline fizzing in your mouth as you fight to keep the excitement off your face.

Cam stops outside cell 1028, the reinforced door heavy and imposing, and you have to dig your nails into your palms to stop yourself from turning your head to the left. The cell door you want is so, so close, but you can’t give the game away just yet.

We’re here, he murmurs into your mind, seemingly unwilling to break the silence. Still feeling up to it?

Resolutely, you meet his eyes. Yeah. I’m ready.

He knocks softly on the door, probably out of habit – it’s not like the sound would be able to get through the wards on the cell, no matter how hard he knocked – and presses his palm to the unlock switch on the wall. His magic surges, swirling through his hand and into the mechanism, before the panel flashes green and the door unlocks.

“Regulus, yes?” he says to the prisoner inside, and you follow him into the cell before the door locks behind you. “My name is Camelopardalis. I’m here to speak with you about the events of last week, if that’s alright with you.”

The temporary ward that activated when the door released keeps the prisoner, Regulus, from actually reaching you, so he sits on the bed while you conjure two chairs for you and Cam to sit on. You already knew that he was an Empathy daemon before you came in, and that he’s not even meant to be in this block at all – that’s the only reason Cam had been allowed to bring you. He’s not actually very aggressive, so he’s normally in one of the lower-security areas, but apparently there was some incident a few days ago that means they’ve moved him in here for his own safety while his ordinary cell is being repaired.

Cam and Regulus talk for a while, but you don’t really take in much of the discussion, to be honest. You’re mostly just distracted by your own racing heartbeat, choking on the tension that nobody else can feel. Why does it matter, whatever it is they’re talking about? Why should you even care? There’s something much more important going on, something so deeply, intensely vital that you couldn’t possibly focus on anything else.

He’s here, he’s here. Right now, at this very moment, you’re just a few metres away from Vega. The object of your obsession, the mystery that you’re longing to solve. You might never get this chance again. In just a few minutes, you’ll see him – at last, you’ll see him with your own eyes, see all the things the cameras can’t show.

Oh, if only you could have come here alone. You could spend hours here, you’re sure, making up for all the days and nights spent looking at the poor facsimile of him that decorates the surveillance screens in the security office. How close will you be able to get? How long will you be able to look? If you’re lucky, you might even—

“Is there anything else you’d like to speak about while I’m here?”

Cam’s voice jolts you from your whirling thoughts, leaning forward slightly in his chair as he speaks to the prisoner, and you try your best to look like you’ve been paying attention.

…Yes.

His voice is faintly muffled, as if through glass, and it belatedly occurs to you why that is. You hadn’t really noticed, but you realise that Cam has been the only one speaking aloud, while Regulus has been using telepathy to project his words through the temporary ward. Perhaps it’s that he doesn’t know how to speak, or maybe that he just doesn’t like to.

You’ve often heard that Empathy daemons have trouble learning how to speak out loud, partly because they develop at a different rate to other demons, and partly because they’re not meant to be observed by humans who aren’t their charges. They’re taught to speak telepathically as much as they can, so that other humans nearby can’t hear their disembodied voices when they’re invisible, but that generally means that they have difficulty remembering how physical speech is meant to work.

In any case, he must say something to Cam that he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel a tiny burst of Serenity-flavoured magic bubble against your aura, a polite warning, and the conversation goes entirely silent as they continue to speak.

This is it – now or never. Catching Cam’s eye, you blink once and incline your head ever so slightly towards the door. He blinks in reply, and you can tell that he’s not entirely sure why you want to leave, but his aura seems to acquiesce. Gratefully, you stand up from your chair and hurry out of the cell, bracelet letting you slip easily through the door and the wards.

You’ll have to hurry. Cam shouldn’t technically have let you do that, seeing as it's facility policy for you to stay together at all times in the maximum-security areas, but you’re hoping that he thinks you’re just being polite to Regulus by not staying when he obviously doesn’t want you to overhear him. He doesn’t seem to pose much of a threat, so why would you need to worry? Even if he tried to break through the ward and do something to Cam, he’s got a panic bracelet just like you – and from what you can tell of Cam, he seems like he could hold his own if it really came down to it. He’ll be fine.

Steeling yourself, you turn your back to the door and cross over to the other side of the corridor, one door to the left. The small, metal plate above the door says 1025.

It’s such a short distance, yet it feels like a lifetime. Creeping closer and closer to the cell, your eyes are fixed on the small, rectangular viewing slot. It’s heavily warded, just like the rest of the door, so there’s no need for it to ever close – you’re told that it’s a security measure, installed so that prisoners can never know when they’re being directly observed. All they can see is a bright, clouded blur, regardless of whether someone’s looking through it or not.

Paranoia seeps through your brain, freezing water soaking through the back of your skull. You’ll surely be on camera right now, but nobody’s really watching, are they? Unless something happens, nobody ever really pays attention to the CCTV – and nothing’s going to happen, right? There’s nothing suspicious about just looking, is there?

Something moves, a trembling blur just at the edge of your vision. Your head snaps down, eyes instinctively searching for the danger, but it’s – ah.

Your hands are shaking. That’s never happened before.

How… human of you.

The crushing silence seems to clutch at your ankles as you come to a stop, terrifying in its totality. It feels wrong, somehow, for it to be so quiet. Like this place is somehow separate from the rest of the world, an unearthly space out of step with the rest of this plane.

Reinforced metal lines the walls, cell doors towering over you. The air feels even heavier in your chest than before, so thoroughly saturated with power that it seems to pop and crackle with each breath. Was the ceiling quite this low before? White light floods the corridor, and its reach is so complete that you cast no shadow.

It’s too late to back out. You’ve got to do this now, before Cam comes out of that cell and asks you what you’re doing. Your whole body feels on edge, pulse hammering in your throat and stomach all strange and fluttery, like a fizzy can of soft drink that’s been all shaken up. Careful of the ward alarm, you don’t touch the door, but you lean slowly towards the viewing slot, and—

and—

Oh…

You can’t move.

You can’t even think.

All you can do is stare.

Demonic bodies are inherently static, in a way that human bodies just can’t replicate. There’s no need to breathe or blink or swallow – there’s no real need to do anything, except feed, and you don’t have to move to do that. Behaviours like nodding or fidgeting are entirely cultivated, learned habits from an age-old history of human coexistence.

Stillness makes humans uncomfortable, so your species has learnt not to stand still. It’s half courtesy, half pragmatism. Skin changes colour to blush without blood, the hand pulls back from the flame half a second too late. At its core, it’s about survival. Codependence, long exposure. The mimicry of a predator.

Yes, a predator. The creature before you, utterly unmoving as he sits on the side of the bed, is something much, much worse.

No photo could have done him justice, no blurry camera footage could have captured him in enough delicate detail. You can only see his side profile, and yet you’re struck by how immensely, instantly handsome he is – you can’t explain exactly why, but something about his face is just so captivating that you can’t tear your eyes away.

He’s like a sculpture in a museum, all strong lines and clean angles. Sharp horns jut cruelly away from his face, starkly silhouetted by the bright light from above, and you briefly wonder if they’d draw blood if they were to touch your skin. They’re not glossy, as such, but they do seem to reflect the light slightly. Soft white illuminates the tiny ridges and curves in their surface, glinting off the vicious-looking points in a way you’ve never seen before on Elegy.

It’s like the light doesn’t quite know how to react to his magic, fracturing as it crashes over him, splintering and shattering like stained glass. Is it because of his form’s composition? It must be. You’ve never seen a demon able to do that – to take a physical, corporeal form in a way that permits existence on Elegy, but that still holds the qualities of the raw magic it’s composed of. It’s completely enchanting. You’re not sure a human would be able to see it.

His hair is long and smooth, parted just in front of his horns so a little of it frames his face on either side. The rest is gathered up high somehow at the crown of his head, before falling gracefully down his back. His stillness makes it impossible to tell, but you imagine how it might move if he were to turn his head, dark strays fluttering lightly in the nonexistent breeze. Your fingers ache to reach out and touch it, to brush your claws across his jaw and push his hair back behind his pointed ear.

The dull prisoner’s uniform he wears is in perfect shape, not a single crease or stain to mar the coarse, sand-coloured fabric. Your gaze drags across his form, searching eagerly for what few hints of his shape you can discern, but it’s not much. You can see that he’s tall, certainly taller than you – which, to be fair, you already knew from his file – and the apparent litheness of his frame does nothing to betray the strength that you know must hide there. The half-sleeves of his uniform finish just above the elbow, leaving his forearms bare where his hands are folded in his lap. His tail disappears as it curves around past the far side of his body, and the tips of his claws are lethally sharp as they catch the light from above, long and elegant.

However he does it, the illusion is incredible. If you really focus, you can just about see the delicate shimmer of Arcana across his skin through the wards, so subtle as to be almost imperceptible. Although you can’t feel his aura, he looks old. Powerful.

Greedily, you drink in every millimetre of Vega’s being that you can see. He’s entirely mesmerising in his stillness, smooth and perfect like a statue of an angel. So immediately, inexplicably fascinating – how does he do it? What is it about him that draws you in? Your core longs to reach out to him, to call him to you, aura pressed up against the surface of the ward like it might slip right through.

Your whole world, filtered through a few inches of missing metal. Everything narrows down to now – this one, most vital moment. Fire seems to surge through your body, the blind faith of your conviction forged into something new, something raw, something hungry. It’s the feeling of falling, the blistering heat of a tumbling star. There’s no doubt in your mind – you can already feel it, strong hands digging into your waist, and you’re sure he’ll catch you. The cold blackness of space. A new type of gravity, falling into orbit.

It’s so much. Without really noticing, you stagger back a few steps, eyes still locked on the door in front of you as your body tries to grapple with the immense weight of this strange new feeling. You’re breathing far too harshly, teeth rattling as you tremble, your physicality unable to keep up with the seismic shock of emotion that ripples through your core. You’re changing, the feelings that make your form melting and morphing like water as your mind struggles to reckon with itself, the world around you coming into a new sort of focus.

You’re mine.

Silently, your unblinking eyes begin to cry. As you shudder, clinging frantically to the shape of your physical body, the words seem to take root at the awful, weeping heart of you. The delicate balance of emotion is undone and remade, that careful mixture that shapes everything you are and everything you want to be. You’re mine, and I want you, and I’ll have you. I want you, and I need you, and it’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine.

This shrieking, struggling sensation, thrashing in your chest like a bird in a cage. Wicked talons claw your ribs to pieces from the inside, catching on the bone, ripping and rending the fat and flesh and organs – you’re shredded into ribbons, coughing up feathers. Let it out, let it out, choke it down. How can you get away from the thing that’s inside you? The cruel beak peck peck pecking through the skin to get to him, and you’ve never wanted anything so horrifyingly, terrifyingly much.

Don’t make me stop. Mine, you’re mine. I can’t, I can’t, I need it – I want you, I want it, let me have it…

Do you even know what’s happening any more? Does it matter? All you know is this new and lovely creed, frightening in its intensity and dreadful in its desires, and you smile blackly as it blossoms deep inside your body, soaking into every astral part of you. It’s not a human sensation. It’s all-encompassing, a demon’s feeling. This incredible oneness, body and mind so connected as to be inseparable. To think it is to become it, and the only thing you can think about is how much you want – crave – need him. How it howls, how it hurts, an aching pressure that wraps around your heart like a snake, writhing as it crushes th—

“Is everything alright?”

“Cam!”

Your brain instantly floods with paranoia, sharp and white like a camera flash, the acid fear of instinctive shock lighting up your whole body as your head snaps inhumanly fast to the side, whipping around to see the confused-looking Serenity daemon standing right beside you.

“You…”

Stunned, there’s not much you can do except stare wide-eyed at him, desperately trying to hide the terrible storm that rages inside. He can’t know. He can’t.

“I, um… I wasn’t expecting you to be – you know, to be, like, right there…”

You trail off into a laugh that probably sounds as forced as it feels, breath still not quite back in your control. Cam doesn’t look entirely convinced, a tinge of worry bleeding through his aura, but he tilts his head slightly and puts on a smile that in any other case would be reassuring.

“Sorry for the surprise,” he murmurs soothingly, one hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He’s gentle, so gentle as he brushes the wetness from your face, the pad of his thumb just below your eye. “How about we head back to the office, hm?” he suggests. “I know this place can be… ah, it’s quite intense, isn’t it? Especially the first time.”

You nod vaguely, not really listening, but you can’t help the sudden flare of panic that races up your spine as he tries to nudge you back down the corridor. Not yet, not yet! He’s right there, your Vega, your Vega, you can’t just leave, can you? You have to do something, but wh—

“Oh!”

Cam freezes, stumbling slightly as you drag him down towards you – one arm around his waist, the other over his shoulder. Instinctively, his arms wrap around you in return, palms flat across your back as you press the side of your head into the curve of his neck. You can feel every breath he takes, chest to chest, slotting easily against you.

Just… just a second, you whisper into his mind, and you don’t even have to pretend to feel overwhelmed. I just need…

He nods, so sweet and adoring, like he could ever understand. It’s alright. We’re not in a hurry. Take your time, okay?

From the outside, it probably looks like nothing happens.

That’s good.

You don’t stay there long. Only a few seconds – maybe half a minute, at most. Then, Cam leads you out of the cell corridor, and out of the maximum-security block entirely. Nobody stops you, and nobody says anything.

It’s not a very long walk. Inside, upstairs, through the badge check. He takes you back to the office, and sits you down at your desk, and the rest of the day passes entirely normally. Grey clouds drift past the window, threatening to rain but never quite managing it. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Yes, it’s very normal. Paperwork comes and goes, keyboard clattering non-stop until it’s dark outside, and you reach down to pick up your bag from underneath your desk. The front office is almost empty as you leave, only one or two people still around, and the man behind the desk doesn’t even look up from his computer as you sign out.

Yes, that’s it. Normal. Perfectly, exactly ordinary.

He hadn’t noticed a thing.

Perhaps he’d been distracted, or perhaps you really did pull it off. The cold air of the cell corridor, freezing you from the inside out as your eyes began to change – getting wider, darker, sharper. Focus changing, pupils expanding. Magic simmering beneath the surface of your skin, filling your eye sockets, dissolved into the liquid that a human would call tears.

Cam must not have realised how close you were to the door. He must not have thought how easy it would be to look through that thin, irresistible viewing slot, just one more time.

The bright sugar of temptation, fizzing sweet and tart on your tongue as you drank in the scene. A single figure, painted against the stark white of the wall behind him, sitting tall and graceful on the edge of the bed. The unmistakable shape of horns, viciously sharp, worn proudly like a crown. Long fingers twisting into light fabric, wicked claws threatening to tear right through. The pointed spade of a long tail, not quite hidden from view.

And two curious, pitch black eyes, staring straight back at you.

Caught between ticks of the clock – it was only for a moment. He couldn’t have known. He couldn’t. Considering the strength of the wards that envelop his cell, layers upon layers of complicated warding magic, it just isn’t possible that he could have sensed you at all – let alone seen you. He doesn’t know you even exist. There’s no way.

Inhuman perfection, the stone tears of the statue of an angel. Head tilted to the side, dark hair falling slightly over one shoulder. Frozen air turned to dust in your lungs, a still heart stuttered over a beat it couldn’t take – and slowly, ever so slowly, Vega had turned his head to look at you.

Head over heels, falling through space. He’s mine.

It’s always been so easy. The doors out of the front office are automatic, and they take a little while to close. It doesn’t take much to just step right back in, unnoticed as the guard looks away, and disappear back down the office corridor you came from.

In the morning, you’ll go and speak to your supervisor. ROLE AMENDMENT REQUEST: REHABILITATION OFFICER (DUAL SPECIALITY). You’re already certified to deal with humans, anyway, and the higher-ups don’t care about demons at the best of times – the form you’ve left on her desk is neatly filled out, block capitals in black ink, and you think she’ll say yes.

In the meantime, things are a little bit slow. It’s been dark outside for a few hours, and the night shift is only just starting. There’s a few security officers in here, dotted around at their desks, but they’re all too busy staring at their own computers to really pay any attention to the rest of the room.

Although the ceiling lights are always on, bathing the room in their harsh fluorescent glow, you’ve always thought that they leave the room remarkably dark. It’s the mass of screens that covers the far wall that really illuminates everything, the huge cluster of monitors where the CCTV feeds flicker endlessly. They seem to tower over you, a great monument to your grand ambition, a silent siren’s call. Magnetic, addictive. You can’t resist their pull.

It’s like a dance as you pick your way through the office, the imaginary rhythm of a waltz playing in your head with every step. Past the Earth Elemental who sits by the door, past the photocopier, underneath the ceiling fan. The stacks of paper in that Stealth’s intray don’t move as you skip happily through the gap between desks, your steps make no sound on the cheap carpet as you twirl past the nest of filing cabinets next to the coffee machine. Nobody looks up as you pass them, totally unaware of your presence, and that’s exactly the way you like it. They can’t see the brightness in your face or the lightness in your heart – it’s a special surprise, a secret just for you.

The Freelancer who’s meant to be watching the tapes is already sitting in the chair, so you have to stand. The electricity thrumming in the air reminds you of the thick magic of the maximum-security cells, that heavy taste of ozone coating your teeth and sliding slickly down your throat, and it makes you swallow involuntarily. How much longer will you have to do this? How long until this room is nothing but a distant dream?

You already know it’s going to be wonderful. All the glass and the plastic will fall away in a shower of sparks, cracking and popping as they hit the floor, and when you reach out to touch him you’ll find more than just a monitor. It’s a love story, isn’t it? He’ll be there, right in front of you, to touch and taste and feel. He’ll see you and he’ll smile, he’ll say it’s alright, my love, I’m yours. You’ll be safe, and you’ll be full, and you won’t ever be alone again.

Just a little longer to wait. Without you even noticing, a great big smile spreads across your face, and you’re struck with the sudden urge to press your face right up against the cold, flat surface of the monitor. The future has never been so close. At last – at last! – you’ll finally be happy.

Grey static, harsh and grainy. The buzzing song of the CCTV soars ever higher, a beautiful melody that rings like a bell, echoing through your skull. And there in front of you, immortalised forever in your eyes and your mind and your core, is the still, silent blur of pixels that makes up the perfect form of Vega, Vega, Vega.

He’s so beautiful.

The night shift carries on. You smile as the dim light goes through you, and invisible fingertips brush gently across the smooth glass of the screen.

He’s mine.

-

in the mood for more? here’s the series masterlist

main masterlist

oops! all yandere! collab masterlist

this is an original fanwork by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute.

[riksaes]

when he realise he's fallen in love

ni-ki nishimura x fem reader , synposis : ni-ki realises he's fallen in love and wants time to go slower , genre.. fluff , word count ?? , idk , listened to nothings gonna hurt you baby by cas and it ends with us movie ruined it for me so ugh

rq for any idols / groups

m.list

ni-ki and you were in the practice room because of how over working ni-ki was with the upcoming dances for their comeback. he was in poor conditions due to HYBE not giving them a proper break, this made your heart crack seeing how hard he's pushing himself physically but mentally as well. it wasn't healthy for him or the group either and seeing him from a distance like this made you feel bad for not being able to do anything about it.

you debuted with the group 'newjeans' who was also known well enough for HYBE to push around and mentally destroy but not enough like enhypen. ni-ki was always worried when you over-pushed yourself especially when you got injured during the MAMA 2023 awards on stage but didnt tell anyone until one of your members pressured you into saying it. it never mattered to you but your mind always drifted off to ni-ki's health before yours and made you blind to what was wrong with the current injury of yours.

looking at ni-ki through the practice room mirrors while sitting down with a moon boot carrying down your leg. it had been three hours with you being here because ni-ki didn't want to leave you alone in your apartment be alone in the practice room. even though he felt bad that you couldn't work hard like usual, he wanted to make sure you were still going out.

without thinking ni-ki did a move that made him blind over the fact he did it wrong, which twisted his wrist but not enough to injure it fully. this caught your attention and quickly stood up to the taller boy who was sitting on the ground looking at his wrists and silently cursing at it. limping over to the boy with the quickest pace you could do and sitting down in front of him. "ki.. you okay?" you pushed his bangs away from his sweaty forehead while all he did was nod trying to forget about the exquisite pain from his wrist. "yeah i'm okay, just placed it the wrong way so it kinda stings". he ended with a sigh just wanting all of this practicing to end and go have dinners with you like a normal human being.

looking at ni-ki who's puffed out and tired from overworking himself and you standing back up. "ki stay here and don't move i'll be back" you said and went to the bag you usually brought to practice that held items in case if someone or you got injured. he titled his head and watched you from where he was in admiration because even if you were injured, you were taking care of him.

digging through the bag and finally finding the little my melody full makeup pouch and closing the bag up. you walked over to ni-ki and sat back down in front of him. he didn't know what you were doing and just stared at you with complete confusion but admiration at the same time. "gimme your hand" you said not looking at him, trying to search for the little ice pack, panadol cream and a bandage. ni-ki put his hand out in the air waiting for you to take it eventually. finding the items and placing them onto the floor next to your boot that needed the rest after walking heaps. grabbing his soft arm and placing it onto your knee that was now a table for his injured wrist.

as time went on you were trying to prevent any pain for the next few days, ni-ki looked at you like you were everything. he smiled at the little things you were doing while you were injured but putting him first before anything. it always noticed and took note that you would do this, even if something was happening or even if you had to keep up your idol facade. he brushed away the loose hair that fell out of your messy ponytail and grabbed the clip from inside of the makeup pouch and used it on your hair. you smiled at the little gesture while wrapping his wrist up and kissed where he hurt himself.

ni-ki just smiled at the small heartwarming gesture and hugged you once you finished and taking in your hair product smell, that smelt like strawberry shortcake. rubbing his face onto your hair while smiling finally realising this is who he wants to stay with forever. even though he was still young, he would wanna replay every moment again just to keep them forever.

"i love you" he said

"i know and i love you too 3000" she replied with

a/n : sorry for disappearing i lowk died and came back but i may be gone for a bit again so this is my future apology

taglist: @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @chaconkii

[yuikira]

Kinich's birthday special!

ugh yall dont get it how much I love him. literally wrote this in between val matches😭🙏

warnings: nsfw, dirty talk, sex

"focus, i said focus baby"

"l-like i ca- uuuughh please ichi"

"hm? what's the matter?"

"this is!"

and it was. i mean, who could blame you really? he had you sat on his lap, teaching you how to play valorant just like he did. dont get him wrong, you're an excellent player, with diamond rank 1 last season, but "you can do better, yeah? lemme show you" those were his words. and now he has you sitting on his lap, his cock buried deeeep inside of you, one arm around your waist and one around your own palm resting on the mouse.

and fuck did he love it when you scored a kill? he'd thrust upwards, gently digging his fingers into your waist, that gets all the more better when you score an ace. it drove you to do more, to preform better, to get the reward you deserve, but also to go insane, to just toss away all your setup and bounce on his lap until you both can't help but moan shamelessly into each other's ears. he was such a menace, but you also loved this side of him.

"there you go, wasn't that hard was it?" he remarked as he saw +35 rr on your screen, ranking up to platinum 3.

"we still have a long way to go tho, I'm not leaving this until we reach radiant"

"radiant?! that's so far away!"

"that's the fun you wanted, didn't you baby?"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY beautiful, pretty, adorable, cute, exquisite, attractive, gorgeous, alluring, captivating, bewitching, appealing, charming, lovely, delectable, enchanting, glorious, magnificent, angelic, sexy, stunning, superb, aesthetic, flawless, splendid, glamourous, seductive, luscious, enchanting, exceptional, first class, beckoninf, beguiling, bonny, breathtaking, dashing, divine, dreamy, exceptional, hot, ineffable, jaunty, mesmerizing, ravishing, scrumptious, PERFECT husband💗💗💗 I love you so much.

[yayll]

Hi!! It’s my first time requesting something so I dont know how that works.. um I was thinking of some mission like some kind of ball that dazai and y/n has to go and y/n has to seduce someone to get information out of them. You know those masquerade balls? Yeah I think that really goood!! And dazai gets sooooooooo jealous and after she got the information dazai kiss her infront of that person to show him that she’s his😭😭😭😭😭😭omg

HIII angel sorry this took me a while, but i hope you like it :') i tweaked your idea a lil and fingers crossed this is what you so graciously asked for. i tried to put my best jealous goofy ass dazai in there along with the absolute MUSH his brain turns into when he has you to himself mixed with a lil........ fucked in the headness. i love requests! this was soooo fun to write i love youuuuuu <3

~ a little something about Dazai and his uncharacteristic jealousy ~

"Osamu, come on... You're my only sweetheart, you know that."

You call out half sweetly and half out of breath as you follow him down the hallway of the lavish event you were currently attending, dressed to the nines and trying to remain undercover. You were coming to realize why people didn't date within the workplace as he walked ahead, grumbling to himself. He's trying to remain unfazed, pretending to still be upset as he shrugs with his back turned to you.

"Hmph. I dunno, I don't feel like I'm your 'sweet' anything..."

This causes you to roll your eyes affectionately and pick up the pace, placing a hand on the back of his shoulder to finally stop him in his tracks. You flash him a sincere smile, and speak softly.

"I'm really sorry you had to see that. I didn't know that asshole was going to kiss me after he let me go. I also didn't think you'd ever get jealous..."

You say that last part with a more playful tone, treading dangerous waters of your unpredictable lover's emotions. As expected, he sighs dramatically, casting you a look of disgust.

"Ugh, of course I'm not... That's honestly sooo lame and pathetic. I can entertain jealousy as much as I can entertain one of Kunikida's little speeches on morals, or whatever."

"You mean his 'ideals'?"

You chide, stifling a laugh. He glares at you, his eyes narrowing as he scans you for a moment.

He can't find a single flaw on that precious face, not a single stray hair or stain on your exquisite outfit. He should change that by the end of the night.

"... You're always so negative, correcting me and whatnot. Isn't it tiring being so irritatingly superior in every way?"

This one gets a laugh out of you, You can tell he's slowly lightening up his mood by the way you both begin walking side by side once again.

"Yeah well, if it weren't for that little kiss earlier, we'd both still be all tied up in the wine cellar of this wonderful party."

He flashes you a pout, and shrugs dismissively.

"And here I thought you of all people would like the idea of being tied up with me. Hmph, wrong partner, I suppose."

Now he was starting to pick back at you, though it was cute. Jealousy looked cute on him, it was something you didn't think he was capable of. It was a pity it had to be during a mission where your main asset was your seduction skills and his was mental instability. You hated every second of it, but you also wanted to make sure you both made it out with the secret intel alive.

You make your way into the grand ballroom, the gala is in full swing, and your eyes dart around to find a proper escape route. Just as you see an exit, a handsome and well dressed young man blocks your view, sticking his hand out.

"Hi. You're gorgeous. Care for a dance?"

You stare down at his hand and then back up at the stranger, your face flushing as you're caught off guard.

"Me? No, no I-"

Dazai immediately interjects, sloppily holding a glass of champagne that somehow manifested in his hand and pretends to be drunk. He loved his theatrics, especially when he was desperate.

He bumps harshly into the young man's shoulder, the alcohol sloshing out of the cup as he slurs, but not before he flashes you a wink to tell you to play along.

"Sooo sorry, pardon me. This indeed beautiful angel is quite busy you see... Taking care of me that is. Ooh, I'm a wreck! I'm nothing but a sad and lonely dog.. In this sad and lonely world-"

The man looks at Dazai skeptically, and huffs into a chuckle. He shoves him away, and turns his attention back to you. Your eyes dart nervously between the two, wondering what Dazai will do next.

"Shut it, clown.. Anyway, I think this further proves you should be in the company of a gentleman like me tonight rather than this wet mop-"

The sound of a champagne flute soaring through the air and connecting to the man's skull is suddenly heard, interrupting him and sending him falling to the ground along with broken glass and liquid everywhere. In one swift motion, Dazai is at your side with a premature victorious smirk, but before you can both be on your way, the man regains his posture and spins him around, punching him square in the face. Dazai's not scrawny or weak, but he isn't the most skilled fighter, relying mostly on his special ability and intelligence to get him out of things.

You gasp, instinctively grabbing Dazai by the collar of his suit and dragging him away to get lost in the crowd of concerned people. You finally make it outside and you both collapse onto the soft grass just outside the venue. It's decorated with all kinds of flowers and fragrant rose bushes, it almost looks like you're at the garden of Versailles. You look over at Dazai, his nose bleeding all over the place, but he looks completely unbothered by it. As you reach over to touch the bridge of his nose, he grabs your wrist and holds it away gently. He waves a finger at you.

"No touchy, I've got it."

He does not, in fact, got it. He looks around until he plucks a rose petal and uses it to wipe his nostrils. You frown, getting all up in his space within an instant.

"What on earth are you doing, Osamu? Let me help, you goofball. Your nose is a mess thanks to that stunt you pulled."

You tear off a bit of fabric from your outfit and dab his skin tenderly, holding his head on your lap now. You can see some blood has trailed down his neck, staining the bandages there along with the collar of his crisp white dress shirt you picked out for him this morning. Dazai perks up, his voice slightly strained but full of lightheartedness.

"How does it feel to work with the agency's most tactical and covert operative? Eh?~"

You bite back a smile, and shake your head. You murmur.

"Feels like he's asking for a death wish a little more than usual."

Your lips soon become a thin line, realizing your statement hurts a little more in the context of the situation than it usually would. He notices your mood shift as his eyes flicker from your concerned eyes down to your lips and back up again. He knows it hurts you when he's like this, reckless and acting out on the impulses of his own plans. He wants to sit up and close the gap between you, kiss you until you drop down those brave walls you're putting up for the sake of the mission. For the sake of your feelings for him. He knows he's careless with it all.

He hums, eyes trained on you as if burning the image of your heavenly self into his mind, where you always deserve to be. In the distance, a bulky sketchy looking man runs out of the venue frantically, looking around wildly and you both get the impression it's the guy from the cellar earlier who kissed you in exchange for your freedom.

Shit! You could have sworn you knocked him out cold. Dazai sits up from your lap and you two scoot more into the bush, trying to hide from him as he makes a call. You mutter under your breath, turning to Dazai as you begin to type something out on your communicator.

"Now's the perfect time to let the others know we're ready for extraction."

He's already looking at you, or gazing admiringly more like. He knows he can fuck up everything, pay any consequence, but the thing he needs to get right for the selfishness of his wretched little heart is you. He scoots a bit closer, hearing the sounds of both your shallow breaths harmonizing. He mutters, softly.

"It would also be the perfect time for you to kiss my face better. You know, for my wellness and all that. Besides, that guy wasn't very nice to us earlier and we need to get rid of any traces of him from those lips. Yuck."

You roll your eyes yet again, despite the fluttering that won't let your stomach rest.

"Who cares about that, we have a case to close first."

He smirks, voice dropping low and provocative.

"I care."

He leans in even further, practically caging you with both arms on either side of you. He can feel your breathing become more erratic, his own filled with a pathetic sense of need he always has when he's with you. Dazai's hand reaches out and grabs your chin, turning it up slightly to face him, making sure you drop this silly act once and for all. His voice comes out gentle, firm.

"I need you to physically push me away, or I swear I'm going to kiss you right now, cutie."

Your eyes widen as you let a shaky breath escape your plush lips, murmuring in return.

"I'll.. punch you in the nose again, you know..."

His hand moves from your chin to the side of your face, cupping your cheek as he takes another breath, his body aching to be as close to yours as possible. His eyes are fixed on you, tearing you apart right then and there, but not before putting you back together so nicely. In that moment, he knows you don't mean that, and he knows he can't resist anymore.

He then whispers with a finality, the anticipation torturing him like you do on a daily basis.

"I don't think I'm going to listen to that..."

You break into a faint smile as you perceive him back.

"You've still got a little blood on your-"

Without another word, Dazai closes the remaining distance between you and him, kissing you with fervor as his soft whines reverberate against your lips. You taste sweetness and then... metallic as your lips mesh together for a heavenly moment. He feels alive, this was what he needed, the soothing balm for his soul and any other wound only you could provide. He's like a vampire, a parasite leeching off of your very essence so he could be himself around you. Cowardly burrowing into the safety of your heart. You squirm just a tad, your fingers carding through his brown hair as you try to keep up. He pulls back after his nose can't push more air through and keeps his lips hovering over yours, feeling the heat from your mouth mingle with his as he sees your lips stained red with his blood. Just as he's going to comment on how disgustingly erotic it is to see you like that, he pushes away the indecent thoughts, using the bandage on his wrist to wipe your mouth instead.

"Okay, I'll be good for now. You can call for extraction.~"

It was a dumb thing to do and could be seen as him being territorial or jealous, but the reality of it was that it was the natural order of things when it came to the way he processed his affections. Someone gets in between the two of you in any way?

An uglier and more dangerous past version of himself would have called for an immediate execution, there was a reason he held the titles that he did. He did his very best to keep that mentality at bay, rebuking it every time he felt a dark urge that he felt needed to be dealt with, mostly for your sake and for the sake of the promise he made to a friend once. Though he can't lie and say that's not who he is anymore, he can always find a better way to get his point across... even if a wishful bullet to the head comes out in the form of a kiss on your precious lips. He'll try for you. He'll wear the fastidious label proudly and be Dazai, a jealous man.

[rustinsscohles]

where’s that meme with the girl and her purse and the posters on the wall? that’s me with interstellar imax

round two baby