lo (she/her)
30
minors and ageless blogs will be blocked
this blog posts and interacts with nsfw & dark content
main is reapersbarge
pfp commissioned from kayadoodles
my ao3 | masterlist | tags | wips
i write for: obey me, jujutsu kaisen, my hero academia
characters: lucifer, diavolo, mammon, barbatos, gojo, nanami, geto
currently: unbeliever (shinbaku) and it’s such a long walk (lucifer/gn!reader)
recent: midnight show (nanami/gn!reader), welcome home (choso/gn!reader), roommates (geto/gn!reader), bar fight (toji/gn!reader)
Penetration is a gender-neutral act. Topping is gender-neutral. Bottoming is gender-neutral. You are not more or less of a man or a woman depending on how you fuck. You are not “fake trans” for having sex a certain way. You are not any less masculine for bottoming or any less feminine for topping.
Additionally, acting like being penetrated is an act of submission is deeply rooted in misogynistic, cisheteronormative ideas of sexual intercourse, as in "penetration is something that is done to women for the sexual gratification of the man, nothing more, therefore it is inherently degrading and feminine".
A cishet man getting pegged by his cishet girlfriend is not gay, he's not less of a man or submissive by default. A cishet man getting pegged by his cishet girlfriend can be sexually dominant and simply likes to be fucked in his ass - these two can co-exist. Yet, in the eyes of cishet society, a man that likes to have his ass played with, must enjoy it because it's "degrading" , not because it simply feels good.
That's why I so heavily preach about the difference between sub/dom/switch and bottom/top/vers. Penetration can be used to increase the feeling and severity of a power dynamic, but it doesn't create one. These two things are entirely separate from eachother, unless connected willingly.
kita draws you a bath whenever you're sad. he sits at the edge and lightly chats with you as you bathe, sometimes dipping his fingers into the water.
"i've been taking a lot of baths lately." you say one day, tone flat.
"mm," he hums. "they're good for you."
you sink low, until your knees pop out from the water. "Wallowing is good for me now?"
"Resting is." He pats the water lightly, watching the ripples disperse away from him. "Getting better is."
The water's cooled, the sun is low. The radiator clunks to life and the room smells faintly of burnt-- a problem Shinsuke promised he'd fix, once the next paycheck came in. The was three paychecks ago, but he still nods, like he knows what you're thinking.
"Friday." he whispers. "I'll call the guy on friday."
He emptied the account last month when the car broke down, then again this month at the pharmacy for you. Still, you sit in lukewarm water, mood unchanged.
"And what if I never get better?" you ask. "What if we're always broke and miserable?"
He smiles, lips closed, and turns the faucet. It takes only a couple of second before it warms up, steaming from the nozzle.
A little extra cash and the opportunity to be shown off by one of the most attractive men you’ve ever laid eyes on? All in the name of transforming his image from a wild sidekick to a roughed, but settled protector? You’d thought the deal couldnt get sweeter…
And then, it did.
Because he was sweet. Surprisingly so.
Oh, he’d kicked and screamed at first. Of course he had. Until, his publicist made it evidently clear that he was to clean up his image or face another terrifying five place drop in the following months polls.
So, reluctantly, he obeyed.
He posed for photographs. Placed his hand on the small of your back to guide you through crowds and gave you the softest smiles when you managed to get him to laugh. He bought you things, small things that reminded him of you and always walked you to your door after the night was over. He even let you curl up in his bed when his team pushed for more faux sleepovers and intimate pictures of the two of you. The ones that appeared later on his instagram of your bare shoulder tucked against his naked chest are still some of the most liked on his fan pages.
No-one can blame you for falling for him. Not really. Not when he showed you a side to him that you’d thought non-existent. Not when his anger became protectiveness, or his nonchalance, care.
It’s 8:30pm when you realise you’re totally and unequivocally fucked.
You’re poised on his balcony, nothing but one of his dress shirts draped from your shoulders. There’s a small group of paparazzi clustered down below virtually stepping over one another get the shot. One of them will. Tipped off by an unknown source, they’ve been there for over an hour just waiting for this. Bakugo cages you in from behind, places his lips a hair-breadth from your neck and mumbles… ‘Let me know if you’re uncomfortable. I know they said they wanted a kiss, but I’ll pull the plug on this whole fucking thing if -.’
You don’t let him finish. Twisting to face him, you feel the bar of the railings dig into your back as you lay your hands against his chest. His heart beats under your palms, steady and constant, unwavering as you pull up onto your toes and lace your hands behind his neck. Your waist fits into his hands like you were moulded for him, thick fingers splaying as he encourages your back into a delicate arc and grins, vicious and wanting before pressing his lips to yours.
The kiss must be good because you can hear the commotion from the street, even at almost ten floors up.
Your world stops, every muscle in your body melting into him as your emotions settle to scream his name in chorus. He sweeps your off your feet, encouraging your legs to wrap around his waist as he holds you with a single hand cradled under your ass. Heading back for the doors, lips still locked, he throws a hand out behind him flipping off the paparazzi as they clamour for the perfect shot.
You’re still kissing when he puts you down. Still, when the door to the balcony slams shut. A hunger lingers between you, something silent and deadly that threatens to ruin the ‘fake’ in your little charade.
And then, the front door opens. Heels click on tile and he’s gone.
Across the room, you watch as he scoops her up. His real girlfriend. The one you’re standing in for, because even if his ratings are enhanced by his new found romance - singledom almost tripled hers. She’s a vision in her new suit, one he promises to get her out of in no time; all curves and strong lines, and a face that was carved by the angles.
You swallow the shards of your heart as they attempt to claw their way out of your throat, hold back the bile that rises in you as you watch him kiss her neck. She giggles, slaps his chest playfully and erases the slight glitter of your gloss from his lower lip with a thumb.
She addresses you with a kindness, that feels like a knuckle duster to your cheek. There’s a comfortable confidence in her voice, the knowledge of his devotion slipped under his tongue, even as she speaks to the woman the world thinks he’s fucking. Fishing through her bag for her keys, she offers them out on a finger. ‘You can take my apartment tonight if you want? We’ve not had a night together in a while and it’ll make another good photo-op having you leave together in the morning. Means you don’t have to go sneaking about. Help yourself to whatever, most of my stuff is here anyway.’
Bakugo rests his head atop hers. His hand is at her hip, just like it was at yours a moment ago, but his eyes are fixed on yours - He squints, chews his cheek and shakes his head, dispelling whatever thought had crossed his mind with ease. Relaxing into him, she rests her hand over his and squeezes a smile itching at her lips.
You wonder if you look as good together as they do. The thought tries to gut you and although, it doesn’t succeed. You know it will: eventually.
You take the keys to be polite, to not cause a scene and sink two floors down. You’ll curl up on the floor there, too wounded to sleep in a bed you know they’ve shared… But you’ll grant yourself one thing.
A pillow.
The one you know he uses because it smells like him.
You lie next to it on the floor, an outstretched hand reaching for a ghost.
So, yeah, it was fun, but now you think this job might kill you.
I don’t think he knows what it does to you and you put on the bravest face, terrified that it he finds out he’d do the noble thing and call off the arrangement.
But, every kiss has you weak at the knees and sticking a new band-aid on your heart…
And it all gets a whole lot worse when rumours of a staged break-up begin to fly around. Your relationship has run its course, his PR team explain - his ratings have plateaued. You try and listen, try not to pick the skin from your fingers, but it feels as though your entire life is being torn from under your feet. An entire life that isn’t even real.
The break up is arranged. A mutual split. Something about differing life goals, you think they might mention the dangers of his career - you don’t know. You don’t really listen. You can’t.
You walk out of the meeting room in a fugue state and slip straight into the stairwell before anyone can ask you any follow up questions or give you another damn contract to sign.
Still, even as the desert blooms in your stomach, you won’t cry. Won’t water the hurt, no matter how much your body craves it. You won’t force Bakugo to explain why his so-called girlfriend was photographed sobbing as she left his agency. Despite it all, you wouldn’t do that to him.
You’re almost at the second floor, almost home and free when you see the door fly open in front of you.
‘I’ve been chasing you for six floors.’ Bakugo huffs. He’s out of breath, visibly, his chest rising and falling as a redness rises in his cheeks. There’s an annoyance caught in his brow, but it vanishes as soon as he gets a good look at you. Softening, he lets the door slam shut behind him and approaches, coming to a stop in front of you. He lifts his thumb, swipes the soft skin below your eye and catches a tear just as it falls. ‘Is it the money? I can find you another job, Kirishima’s looking for a secretary - I’ll put in a good word. I-‘
The sound of the slap reverberates through the entire building. It echoes. Envelopes the air and makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. It had only been half automatic, but you still jump back with a gasp and a hand covering your mouth.
Bakugo is frozen. He raises his hand to his cheek, hisses as his fingers brush the skin there. His face blooms brighter, but this new flush has nothing to do with exertion.
You expect anger.
You expect him to burn, but instead… He melts.
‘I have a feeling I deserved that.’ He speaks quietly, his hand still pressed to the sting. ‘But, I might need some help understanding why.’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘It obviously is.’
‘I can’t - I can’t tell you. I can’t say.’
He tilts his head. ‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t. It’ll ruin, it’ll…’ You’re crying now, unable to stop it as shock, horror and emptiness blend inside your chest.
‘Hey, hey.’ Stepping closer, he reaches out to take hold of your elbows. His grip is firm, but soft, his thumb brushing across the turn of your joint as he tries to ease you away from break-down. ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me.’ He ducks into your gaze and smiles, squeezing your arm playfully. ‘You’re my girl, remember.’
That opens the floodgates. You collapse, hoping the ground might swallow you, but instead you fall into the warm embrace of Bakugo. He holds you like you might brake, bracing you against his chest as he coo’s soft into your ear. Pulling back just enough to see your face, he grows serious. ‘Whatever it is, just tell me. I’ll fix it.’
You laugh. The noise startles both of you, but it won’t stop. It pours out of you, smoke from the kindling of your agony. ‘You can’t.’ You choke between chuckles.
‘Have you met me?’ He snorts. ‘Ain’t nothing I can’t do.’
Swallowing, you hiccough on a sob-turned-giggle and catch his eye. Warm concern swims in them, an undercurrent of helplessness threatening to pull it under at a moments notice. You quite like the way he looks at you, swallowed by his attention. You wonder if it’ll change. If, one day, not even recognition will spark in his eyes for you.
It could be worse though, you suppose.
It could be a what you get: Anger.
‘You’d have to break up with Uraraka.’
‘What?’
‘To fix it.’ You smile, tears still glittering in your eyes. ‘Because I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you.’
Hi I’m $400 short on rent this month and this beast needs cat litter.
I work full time, but I make too much for state assistance 🙃 So my necessary health insurance is like $500 a month from my job 🙃
If I offered commissions, would anyone be interested?
yee i’ll pay money for words
nahh
button for lo
Voting ended onSep 8, 2025
I can write for grishaverse, jjk, bnha, trigun, obey me, Star Wars, marvel, bg3, hades, locked tomb, stardew valley, and like a billion others. Not sure on prices but I’ll probably be dirt cheap because I’m literally broke
If you wanna help rn (rent is due today and I’m $400 short) my PayPal is https://www.paypal.me/sanktalo
Mint, how does Beau and Ryan’s first meeting go??? Especially if it’s too close to the full moon 👀 Is he like “must keep one hand on her at all times” or “I’m gonna tear this fucker’s throat out with my teeth”? 👀
The FIRST FIRST time? oh beau was confused how to feel because it was early into their 'thing' and ryan had clearly just spent the night.
"Oh, uh-" you cleared your throat as you answered the door, peeking through the crack. A normal person probably couldn't taste in the air how someone else's sweat, cum and cologne has settled into your skin, but Beau could. Beau could. Your shoulder was alight with bite marks, the divet of teeth still fresh. The wild part of his brain reveled in that: you like it rough, you like teeth, you want to be--
"Mr. Russell-"
"I told you, Mr. Russell was my father. Just call me Beau."
"I totally forgot that we were going in town together. I don't want to hold you up."
Beau leans back on to a support bean on the porch. It creaks a bit too much under his weight.
"I don't mind waiting," Beau replies. "You can't be loading furniture into your car. Or that damn Tesla."
Your eyes go wide. The spare car in your driveway certainly wasn't hard to miss. You allow the door to slide open more- you aren't nude, but dressed in this alluring little silk slip that nearly drops Beau's jaw.
"That's Ryan's car. He's my-"
"Husband."
The man himself shoulders in. He's surprisingly dressed, adjusting the cuffs on his suit with a smug little shake of his wrist. Ryan smiles with way too much teeth, hand out as if sealing a business deal, not meeting a neighbor. Beau takes it and both men squeeze in silent competition.
(Beau certainly wins. He has to win.)
"Ex-husband." you clarify. "And he was just going."
"Maybe I'll stay around. I can help you move that stuff," Ryan says. "We wouldn't want to bother your... friend here."
"Oh, helping a neighbor could never be a bother." Beau decides to smother the competition in southern hospitality. "'sides, I gotta go into town and buy some things for dinner. You wanna stop by and eat with the boys if you ain't sick of us by the end of the day?"
Ryan's head snaps towards you with this glowering glare and suddenly Beau understands exactly why you two are breaking up.
"We were-" Ryan starts.
"You were grabbing a flight back to New York," you say pointedly. "Goodbye, Ryan."
Ryan tsks, but leans in for a kiss. You practically straight arm the man, pushing him away.
"Goodbye!" you repeat. "Bye! Tell the lawyers I said hi!"
for one, kirishima is terrified of you. the way you watch him with an unwavering slight smile, eyes trailing with him wherever he goes. even when your attention is elsewhere, he feels part of it focused on him, coiling and ready to strike.
once, he had knocked a knife off of the counter. He jumped to avoid it hitting his feet, but you stayed still, letting it land point down right into the soft of your foot.
"Oh my god-" Kirishima blanches. You just lean over and gently pull it from your flesh, the look in your eyes never wavering.
"You know, Eijiro-" the way your pur his name makes his hair stand up on the back of his neck. "You should be careful. Someone could get really hurt."
"Did you get hurt?" Bakugo says the second he walks into the kitchen, eyes fixated on the growing red spot on your slipper.
"Aw, are you worried about me, Katsuki?" you glimmer as you smile, waggling the knife with just enough nonchalance that it makes Kirishima sweat.
"Don't play this shit." Bakugo jerks his head and you obey, trotting towards him unaffected. "Come on. Fuckin' bleeding and shit and you're being all mysterious. Fuck off."
Having evil thoughts at work about your Sukuna finding another dude's boxers in your room or showing up unannounced at your place late at night only for you to answer the door with messy hair in nothing but someone else's t-shirt and tell him you're busy. I want to give him an aneurysm -rosie
you asked to be offical, he told you he wanted to be casual. "I dont like to be tied down," he had insisted. You had just shrugged at the moment, barely looking up from your phone. his girls usually pouted and whined and cried, much to his delight, and he wasnt prepared for your nonchalance.
and then. you just. stopped showing up to his place. You left him on read, dodged his calls.
You answer the door in your panties-- the nice ones, the lacy ones, the ones he bought for you and never got to see. The lights are dimmed low in your apartment, just the way you like them when you're about to be fucked.
"I'm busy," you say, totally unbothered. Sukuna cant even bring himself to look at your tits.
"Who the fuck is in there?" he seethes. "You fucking someone else?"
"Loyalty is a girlfriend only perk."
"Are you kidding me?"
You shrug your shoulders. "I gotta go. The boys are ready for round two."
Before Sukuna can react, you close the door right in his face.
the comes by the next day with a handful of flowers. crumpled ones, but nice ones. ones he clearly went out of his way to get.
"fine."
You're in his sweatshirt and new panties (ones he does not recognize), still unimpressed. "Fine, what?"
"I'll be your fucking boyfriend or whatever."
"No," you say. "Not if you're going to have an attitude about it."
And you close the door on him again. He has to come back a third day, practically on his hands and knees, promising that he'll never fuck anyone else ever again EVER, fuck-- he'll marry you if that's what you fucking need- you get you to agree.
this goes with the reader who has a curse in them. minors and ageless blogs dni—you will be blocked.
gn!reader. near death experiences.
—
getou and gojo take you to tokyo.
it's summer; the cicadas hum, a constant choir. the wet lick of a heatwave has settled oppressive over campus. you're sweating, but they sit too close anyway, their skin tacky against yours.
you don't struggle.
"wanna come on our mission?" gojo asks, nudging you with his shoulder. he's sucking on an ice pop, his lips tinted blue, the same brightness of his eyes.
"do i get a choice?"
"nope!"
you sigh. "fine. i'll come."
getou chuckles, pressing closer. "you don't need to make it sound like a funeral."
(it will be, but none of you know that.
not yet.)
you groan. "just go get ready," you say. "i'll meet you by the gate."
you can feel their eyes searing through you; the thing in you flinches. you gasp in a sharp breath. the world blurs for an instant, a watercolor thing.
when the thing in you steadies, so does the world.
there's a shock of cold against your neck, a glacier's biting ice. you yelp as the ice lolly drips against you. you try to push gojo away, but he's stronger. he smears it on the salt of your skin once more, winter's kiss, and then pulls back.
"don't be late," he says with a grin, popping the lolly back into his mouth.
you scowl at him, holding a hand against the numb spot on your neck. it's sticky.
"be nice, satoru," getou scolds. too late, as always.
gojo laughs, pushing to his feet. getou joins him, though he nudges against you one last time. gojo waves energetically as the two of them leave. you don't return it.
as promised, you meet them at the gate.
they squish you between them in the manager's car. you hadn't expected anything else. you stare out the windshield as the landscape speeds by, their voices a background hum.
the manager drops the three of you off. you follow them into the site, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as the seething mass of cursed energy ripples towards you.
neither of them seem particularly bothered.
it's simple. at least for them. they dismantle the curse piece by piece, calling back and forth to each other with grins.
you just watch.
it ends as it always does: with them the victors. they're already making their way back to you, swapping jokes, when everything explodes.
it's thousands of small curses spewing from the wreckage of the special grade. they fill the air like a swarm of bats, swooping low and plucking at you the way a guitarist picks at strings.
gojo blasts a path through them. it fills instantly.
"shit, that's annoying," he groans.
"have fun," getou says with a chuckle. "it's your turn, anyway."
"ugh. fine."
it's too late for you to realize.
a pulse of cursed energy leaves gojo, rippling out like water. the little curses screech as it washes over them, disintegrating into ash. it rushes over you like the tide, all consuming.
the thing in you withers instantly.
your heart stops.
you clutch at your chest, sinking to your knees. there's ash drifting through the air like confetti. you see getou and gojo turning towards you, the way their jubilant expressions melt.
things get blurry, then. you think you're out of touch with the world, that you're just a step behind it.
"fuck!" you hear, but it's muffled, as if you're underwater.
something slides under your back. it takes your weight, holds you up. there's fingers at your jaw, pressing into the hinge of it. they snake to your mouth, dip between your lips.
something presses on to your tongue. it's rancid. meat gone rotten mixed with the sludge of overripe fruit.
"swallow," someone urges. "swallow!"
you think you do.
something unfurls in you. it webs across the root system of your nerves; it slithers its way into your heart. it wraps around it like a fist and pulses.
your heart pumps, just once.
it does it again.
your heart kicks. stutters. then it starts again, battering against your chest like a drum.
when it settles, your heart is beating in gentle rhythm, like waves washing against the shore. you hiss in a breath. your chest is tender, a stitched wound.
you peel open your eyes.
getou is kneeling beside you. his hair is loosening from its bun; it spills over his shoulder like calligrapher's ink. gojo is at your back, his fingers sinking in to the spaces between your ribs.
they're both talking, but you can't quite hear them. getou cups your face, his hands a cradle.
"you're okay," he says, the first thing to break through your daze, a shattering of river ice. "you're okay."
something in you stirs. it has a mouth like you've never felt before, its teeth sunk into your bones.
"what did you do?" you croak.
but you already know.
—
it will take years, but one night, suguru will come to you. there will be blood spattered across his clothes, rusting into a deep brown.
"i'm leaving," he will say. "come with me."
his curse will throb within you.
you will not have a choice.
you take his hand and let him lead you out the door.
It was starting to rain, great, just what this scene needed. The lights from the ambulance flashed, creating shadows and colors along the wall that moved back and forth with the breeze. The smell of blood was tangible, hell, it was nauseating. The scent of the piled trash didn’t even compare.
You placed a peppermint upon your tongue, keeping your eyes peeled for anything and everything. The crime scene was fresh, quite possibly the freshest you had ever seen. As you stepped forward, you saw the dark figure hunched over a particularly grisly spot on the ground.
“Zombification was in effect,” the hunched one said. “There was no stopping it.”
No shit, Sherlock, you wanted to sneer out, but the peppermint candy kept you quiet. You watched him as he rose, placing something into an evidence bag.
“These zombie attacks are becoming more and more violent.” His pale skin absorbed the colors around him, becoming deep red then sapphire blue as the lights of the ambulance washed over him. Julian was the ‘stand in the corner alone’ type, but his long dark lashes, cherubic lips, pale eyes, and perfectly angled cheeks made him the center of attention. Everyone always remarked on how attractive Julian was. How lucky you must be to be his partner! Must be so nice to be around someone like him!
No, you’d always think, beauty is a beast.
“Zombies are always violent.” Your eyes scanned the scene again, watching fresh blood and viscera drip from the walls. “But this is different. It’s like they were purposefully trying to create a mess. But zombies aren’t like that. They don’t splatter their victims, they pool.”
“Feasting,” Julian murmured. His usually quaffed hair was being flattened by the rain. “They’re relatively clean eaters, they want to get all they can. This scene appears…wasteful.” His dark hair shimmered blue from the lights.
You feel like you said the same thing, but you let it go. “Is it a new type of zombie?”
“Perhaps.” Julian showed you the evidence bag containing a finger.
Your eyes widened. “That’s a good find.” You inspect the bag, the finger inside. The skin still looked fleshy, pink, but there was a shadowing under the nail and something settled into the lines of the fingerprints.
“I’ll get this to testing right away,” he said softly. “Perhaps we can find out if this is blood born, or created.”
You furrowed your brow, following along beside him. “Created? But that practice has been outlawed.”
A slight smirk appeared on his face that annoyed you instantaneously. “And why are we here then?”
You scowled back at his smirk. “I know. But we haven’t seen creation zombieism in literal decades. If that assumption is true, then this is bigger than a rash of zombie attacks. You’re insinuating something that’ll set our whole department into a blaze.”
“It’s always good to stay on our toes. Feral werewolves can’t be our only source of work. Aren’t you bored?” He kept walking, keeping a gait that made him look like he was floating through air. Meanwhile you were starting to puff from keeping pace with him.
Your peppermint candy was coming to an end. “Doesn’t feral werewolves mean we’re doing our job? Lower monster attacks means this city is safe.”
“But even on beaten paths, snakes can hide anywhere.”
Damn him and his floraly language. You stopped keeping up with him, letting him go on ahead while you stayed behind with the rest of the crew.
“Still enjoying your new partner?” Florence asked as you approached the patrol cars.
You swallowed the last remains of the peppermint. Rain began pattering down more around you, so you pulled up the hood on your jacket. “You ask that and I begin to think you did it on purpose, Chief.” You wouldn’t say you had animosity to Julian, but he did used to get a lot of the cases you wanted. You wanted hard work, pavement pounding, cork boards with tons of red string. You had trained for years, had excellent proficiency in combat and firearms. But still, before you were partnered with Julian, you often got silly monster on human domestic crimes.
Florence smiled, nothing malicious or sinister, just wise. “I always told you when I got this position I’d see to it that this department ran a lot smoother. Now don’t you get more work done with Aster?”
Julian Aster, what a stodgy name for someone like him. Silent, awkward, standoffish, he was more like a shadow in the office than an investigator. You couldn’t argue he was good at his job, hell he was great at it. In fact you admired his work ethic, his commitment to civilians and their protection. It always confused you why a dhampir would join the MR and fight against his own kind. You respected it in a way. Too bad he was really, really, ridiculously good looking, as a great film once said. It sort of hindered him. Hell, he had even admitted to you he used it to his advantage, but it made him uncomfortable. Sure he was a good investigator, had some of the best combat skills in the whole department, but he said he felt coddled at times. All for how he looked.
Florence beamed and slapped your back. “Cheer up! I thought you’d be having fun with this.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh sure, zombie attack, great fun! I’m still laughing with glee over my last assignment.”
“You got that smuggling ring, didn’t you?” Florence turned, mumbling something to a cop before looking back at you.
“It was a kobold fake purse scam!” You snapped.
“Kobolds are hard to catch, you and Aster did a wonderful job.”
You threw your head back and moaned, letting water splash down on your face. You opened your eyes, intending to look up at the sky. Instead, you saw a shadow hobbling around on the fire escape before slipping into a broken window.
“What is it?” Julian was suddenly right beside you.
“Fuck!” You exclaimed in shock. You clutched your chest, glaring up at him. “You can’t keep scaring me like that.” He was always appearing out of nowhere. Not really, but he was as quiet as a fucking mouse. It was hard getting used to and was part of why you were sometimes on edge around him.
His long lashes fell to his cheeks, his cheeks reddening. “I apologize for that. But I felt your pulse change.”
“I am not used to your weird powers yet. But yeah.” You motioned up towards the fire escape. “I saw something crawl inside there. See? That window?”
Julian was off in a flourish, scaling the fire escape with one graceful leap.
“Hey!” You gave chase. “Wait-” You took the fire escape less elegantly.
He stayed ahead of you, bounding from one floor to the other before coming to a stop at the window. You eventually reached him, seeing he was brandishing his firearm. You reached for yours, trying to keep your breath quiet.
“Stay behind me,” Julian whispered.
You peered in through the window, where something dark was dripping down the jagged edges. Inside, you saw a dark figure against the white walls.
You pressed the button on your communicator and whispered into it. “Backup on the seventh floor. I request back up on the seventh floor. 7G. 7G.”
“You think it’s a 7G?” Julian murmured. “Good eye.”
You scowled up at him, it sounded like he was mocking you. “Your magic pulse sense isn’t working?”
He shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t sense a heartbeat.” He then extended his arm before you. “Stay here. I’ll go in.”
He made a move towards the window, silently stepping onto the sill. He began to move in when the figure inside lurched, turning, and lunging. But it didn’t go towards Julian. Instead, it came rushing at you. It shattered the glass, throwing its hands into your face to grab you.
Julian’s arms wrapped around you, grabbing you and throwing the both of you off the fire escape landing. The zombie went flying as well, still pursuing you. Everything was happening so fast, you didn’t have time to piece together the flashing images in your mind.
With a quick spin, Julian grabbed onto the ledge of another window, but the zombie continued to fall, clawing and scraping at Julian’s leg in one last vain attempt before it hit the concrete below.
“That was close,” Julian mumbled.
You were clinging onto him, wondering how he was holding onto that ledge.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I think so.” You looked up at him. “You?”
He nodded, swinging to the side and tossing the two of you back onto the fire escape. The sleeve of his jacket was ripped.
“Julian-” you gasped.
He brought his arm to his chest, inspecting the sleeve more than his own skin. “Shame. I liked this shirt.”
“Julian!” You exclaimed loudly, your eyes focused on the large wound.
He twisted his arm slightly to see better. “It got my leg too.”
You glared at him.
He looked unbothered. His expression rarely shifted, so it was hard to read him. “I’ll be fine, partner. Don’t worry about me.”
You snapped. “You got bit by a zombie!”
“Did you?”
You wanted to bite him yourself. “No!”
He gave you a stiff nod. “Then everything is fine.”
The seventh floor was sweeped, more zombies were found and wrangled up to be tested and eventually dealt with. You forced Julian to see the doctor at the department office, but he wasn’t in there for long.
“Shame. That was a really nice jacket,” Dr. Longhorn replied.
You stared in disbelief as Julian simply cleaned up at the sink. “That’s all you two are worried about.”
The minotaur took off her glasses and chuckled. “He’s half vampire, not much a zombie bite is going to do to him other than give him a rash for a couple of days. I’ll prescribe an ointment so the itching doesn’t bother him.”
He saved your ass in the line of duty, the least you could do was try and care for the aftermath. “What about the human half? Doesn’t it get affected at all?”
Dr. Longhorn took off her gloves. “Probably in need of a good sunscreen judging from the light farmer’s tan I saw.”
What fucking tan? You screamed in your head.
“I had a few days I had to work outside before the full moon.” Julian was drying off his hands. The bite mark on his arm was almost all gone, save for some dark bruising. His bare chest showed signs of a few scars, some slight body hair, and the shocking revelation of a nipple piercing.
He picked up his ripped jacket and shirt. “I’m glad I keep a change of clothes here.”
“Me too,” you grumbled.
Julian’s pale eyes flicked up at you. “Are you sure you’re alright? While we’re here you might as well tell Longhorn if anything is wrong.”
“I am fine!” You snapped.
“That zombie rushed at you pretty hard. You sure no borne glass cut you? I thought I smelled blood,” he said with that same monotone.
You tensed up, every hair on your body bristled. “Don’t go around smelling me!”
His eyes slightly widened. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t realize it was-”
You pinched your thighs tight together. “Yeah well-” you huffed, turning on your heel and leaving Longhorn’s office in a hurry.
You went to the bathroom, changing out your menstrual cup. “Half vampire,” you sneered under your breath. You emptied the blood from the menstrual cup into the toilet. “Fuck.” You doubled over as a cramp ripped through your lower abdomen. You had been stubborn, using the mints to calm your nausea and distracting you from the cramps. You had taken some cramp killers that morning, you could handle the rest of the day.
“No, take them, stop trying to power through,” you said through gritted teeth.
The next day, you walked into the office to see everyone gathered around Florence. You quickly joined, seeing she was on the phone with a dark expression on her face.
“The zombies were sent off last night.”
You flinched then scoffed as you saw Julian standing beside you, wearing a too-tight black turtleneck that you could see the outline of the nipple piercings through. You quickly averted your eyes.
“And?” You scoffed.
Julian’s eyes cut down to you. “They were sent off, do you know what that means?”
You furrowed your brow. “Like…off off?” Your skin prickled and rose into goosebumps. “The Academy got them?”
Julian nodded. “Florence is just receiving word now from them.”
“When did the Academy get here?” You whispered. “We were here so long last night!”
Julian shook his head. “I thought I had heard something when I left, but I’m sure Florence wanted to keep everything quiet.” He took a small step closer to you. “You didn’t rest well.”
“Shhh!” You hissed at him and unwrapped a peppermint candy, tossing it into your mouth. How dare he tell you how you rested. Of course you didn’t rest well, not after last night, not after all the cramping. Damn his vampire side. Where was his human side when you wanted it?
Florence set the phone down and the whole room became hushed. She sighed, pursing her lips. “It seems we’re dealing with something much more than a rash breakout of zombie attacks. The Academy has determined that we are dealing with something planned.”
“The zombies were man made, weren’t they?” Julian asked.
“Your assumption, Aster, was unfortunately correct. Prick marks along the back of the necks was the first sign. But then they were thrown for a loop when magic relics were discovered within the corpses.” Florence folded her arms against her chest. She was worried. “They weren’t just zombies. They were being controlled with the use of effigy magic.”
A silence washed over the room. No one breathed, no one even blinked.
“The Academy wants me to send down a couple of my best investigators due to the…nature of this case.” She seemed breathless saying this. “As soon as humanly possible, they said.” She swallowed hard.
The Academy was a big deal. They were the head of the monster attack and reform department. They watched everything that went on, every case, every investigation. They personally went through every note you had ever made while working there. You had seen their signature on everything the chief signed off on. Anything monster related went through them.
Julian’s arm brushed against yours. You scooted away. You glared at his offending arm, wondering why he kept inching so close to you. When you looked back up, Florence’s eyes were focused on you.
She said your name first then looked at Julian. “You and Aster are to head out to the Academy. I’ll give you time to pack your things and get ready. I’ll have someone set up lodgings and food for you both.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Julian said with a nod.
You puffed out your chest. “Of course! Thank you for trusting us.”
The office began to slowly ripple back into some form of normalcy, but the tension of that news hung heavy in the air. Effigy magic was one that was only legal to magic users who were hand selected by the Academy. Not only that, any one else using magic even in the slightest was kept on a database and closely watched in case any illegal magic were to be used. Someone using effigy magic could only be coming from within the Academy itself.
“Is this your first time going to the Academy?” Julian asked you. The two of you were standing in the equipment locker, preparing to receive your stocked go bags for the mission.
“It is.” You kept a stiff upper lip despite the fact you wanted to both panic and celebrate. This was a huge deal, a major assignment that could be career changing. “You?”
“Half vampire, remember?”
You sighed. “Right. You probably have to do those biannual check-ins. Right?”
He nodded in silence, keeping his long arms to his side. “I have to have blood tests done every time.”
“Fun.”
“Not exactly.” His usual monotone voice turned into a deep sort of snarl.
Jimmy, the ‘master of weaponry’ as he liked to call him, placed two large cases before you. “Ammo, ammo, and more ammo. Plus guns!” He announced like a game show host.
“Did you clean my warthog?” Julian asked.
“To your very specific specifications, my handsome compadre.” He placed the gun atop the silver case. Julian took it, looking over the near antique warthog gun before putting it back inside his jacket.
“I also have what you requested for your lovely partner.” James said, placing a long, thin case upon the other too.
You frowned down at the case, clicking your peppermint along the back of your teeth. “You requested something for me?”
“Don’t take offense.” Julian said as he opened the case. “I’ve noticed you have a keen eye. You seem to be able to catch things most of us don’t. Like last night.”
Inside the case was a mothman rifle. You held your breath inside your chest. You had heard tales the department had one, but you had never seen it before.
“In case of emergency only.” Jimmy replied.
Julian closed the case. “Thank you for this, Jimmy. I’ll see it’s taken care of.” He turned to you, offering you the case.
“You think I can handle a mothman?” You were in total disbelief.
He nodded. “If anyone were to control this weapon, I trust in your skill the most.” He held out the case again and you took it.
You were given a car for the trip, as well as an itinerary for your lodgings and places you would receive free meals. The car was specially tinted for Julian’s condition, allowing him to drive during the day. The car was loaded, equipment hidden under the back seat for security.
“Nervous?” Julian asked as you drove away from the station.
“Aren’t you?”
He was characteristically quiet. “I am.”
“Hard to believe,” you scoffed.
“I’ve learned to hide my emotions well, partner. I have a hard time showing them.” That sounded like bragging, but what did you know.
“I’ve noticed.” You turned your head to him, announcing.
“I’m sure you have.” He gave a quick glance to the passenger side mirror, refusing to acknowledge your gaze.
Why did he have to retort to everything? “Our first big assignment together.” You took a breath, eyes going back to the view outside.
“I wouldn’t say that considering all we have accomplished together. It is simply our first time away together.”
“I’m sure for you this is a walk in the park. Going to the Academy and all.” You double checked your pocket for peppermints.
A slight frown appeared on his face. “I’ll tell you now I do not have a fond opinion of the Academy. I would much rather Florence had chosen someone else other than us.”
A surprise! “Really?”
Julian sighed. “That’s as much as I will say about it.”
“Okay. Okay.” You eased back into the passenger seat.
“You may rest if you so wish.”
It was your turn to frown. “You want to read my diary too while you’re at it?”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. Just frustrated,” you grumbled.
Julian’s eyes were still focused on the road ahead. “It’s part of my job as your partner to notice when things are wrong. If you are unwell, then we as a team are unwell.”
You clicked the peppermint against your teeth. “It’s just a period, okay? I’ve had hundreds of them, I am quite used to it.”
“I understand that. But I also understand what constant pain can do to a person. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t work while in your condition.”
Your body began inflamed, turned against him in that quick of an instance. “You think I’m unable to?” You snapped at him. “I’ve worked countless hours while in this so-called condition.”
Julian nodded. “It was not my intention to offend you.”
“Yeah well, ta-da!” You slumped back into your seat.
Part Two:
The presence of the Academy made itself known long before you could see the structure. The small town of Heartwood was entirely overcast as if shadowed by the looming presence. You noticed some of the houses had large fixtures out front that appeared to be something between a fountain and a lightning rod.
“Hecatians,” Julian spoke suddenly.
You lurched, turning to him in surprise. The two of you had been silent for a long while. “Bless you?”
He gave you a look. “Not a sneeze. Those structures you see. They belong to Hecatians. High ranking magic users who are being watched over by the Academy.”
You sank back into your seat, casting your gaze back out the window. “If they’re so high ranking then why do the houses seem so lackluster?”
“The Academy does not employ them.”
You looked down at your hands. “I see.”
“Not everyone in Heartwood would love to be associated with the Academy, partner,” Julian continued with a dark tone to his voice. “Some choose to live here so the Academy isn’t breathing down their necks.”
“I take it you don’t care much for them either. Just guessing.” You said with a shrug.
He shook his head. “Your guess is correct.”
You decided you had had enough of the quiet cartrip. The radio was growing annoying after the hundredth replay of the same six songs. “Not too many people seem to be. So why work for them?”
“I’m not working for them. I’m working with our department.”
You nodded. “Which is under the thumb of the Academy.”
Julian looked slightly annoyed.
“You’re half vampire, you could be doing anything out there. But this? Isn’t it awkward when we do have the occasional vampire bust?” You thought about that dark gray case in the equipment room, the one filled with especially made wooden stakes.
“Did you have reservations when you were a rookie cop and had to arrest humans?” Julian retorted.
You pouted. “No.”
His hands grew tighter on the steering wheel, as if he had been expecting that question. “Then it is the same for me. I do not feel guilty for dealing with my own kind when they do things that harm others. I protect people. That is my job.”
After a beat of silence you tilted your head to the side. “Savior complex?”
Julian’s expression turned to a severe, sharp glare upon the road.
You smiled. “I used to love Dino Ranger Hero Force. I couldn’t be part dinosaur, no matter how many pet lizards I had that I tried to make bite me in hopes they were the magic one,” you laughed. “But I got a pretty strong sense of justice. I saw them saving people, doing good for the sake of making the world a better place.” You then scoffed. “I guess being a cop really didn’t accomplish much of that. But being accepted by the MR was a pretty big step for me.”
“Dino Ranger Hero Force?” Julian repeated slowly and under his breath.
“Silly. I know. Becoming what I am because of a silly kid’s show.” You let out a heavy sigh. “But I love this job, even if I almost get bitten by zombies or pissed on by werewolves.”
“That was an accident,” Julian quickly replied.
You waved it off, not wanting to rehash anymore about that incident. “I think everyone in our department, from Jimmy to Dr. Longhorn has a bit of a savior complex. No matter how ridiculous the reason may be.” You reached into your pocket, taking out another peppermint.
Julian was quiet, almost irritated. He then sighed, letting his shoulders slouch. “I’m trying to find my sister.”
“There’s more of you?” You accidentally let that come blurting from your mouth. You quickly covered it up. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright. Usually, a dhampir is rare enough, let alone a family with multiples of them. My mother always joked about how ridiculously fertile she was.” He bit down on his bottom lip, seeming almost anxious. “Before you ask, I have three sisters, one older, two much younger.”
“That really is something! Way to go for your mom.”
“Yes well-” he gripped the steering wheel again. “My eldest sister was influenced by members of our father’s family. She grew a bloodlust that was hard to satisfy.”
That was something you were always curious about with Julian himself. But that was far too personal. “Did she go batty?”
Julian looked pissed. “Please, don’t use that term.” He had never used a voice that was malicious before.
Guilt struck you hard. “Sorry.”
He shook his head. “She formed a coven, from there we’ve not heard a word from him. My hopes in joining the MR were to find a clue, anything to lead me to her.”
“And the Academy is no help?”
“If they know anything about my sister they’ve not said a word.” Julian pulled up to a hotel. The parking lot was quite full, so you had to park some ways from the entrance.
“Go check in,” Julian told you as he got out of the car. “I’ll get our bags.”
“Sure.” You got out of the car, noticing that the continuous overcast of Heartwood was growing darker in the distance. A chill ran down your spine as the sensation of being watched crept over you. You made a hurried dash to the check in counter.
The last at the counter had a pale complexion and deep bags under her eyes. “Sorry, it’s been quite busy.” She’s busily typing away at the computer.
“It's okay.” You click the peppermint against your teeth.
“Oh,” she gasps.
You look up. “Oh? What’s oh?”
Her lips press together in a tight line. “I see you reserved two rooms, but we overbooked. We only have one available.”
You sighed in exasperation. “That’s fine. Really. As long as it has two beds, it’s fine.” You reach into your pocket to procure the company card.
“Uhm-”
You flick your eyes back up. “Uhm?”
“It’s king sized,” the woman’s voice cracks from frayed nerves.,
“One bed?” You snapped. What is this, a cheesy fanfiction?
“I’m afraid all we had left was the uhm, honeymoon suite.”
You want to bug out, but the cramps are making you also want to die.
“It’s fine,” Julian says behind you. “We’ll require an extra cot if you have any.” He looks at you. “Don’t worry, we’re here for work anyways.”
“Reassuring as always,” you scoff and hand over the card.
You and Julian make your way to the honeymoon suite. Your skin is crawling thinking about it. Just wait till the office hears about this! Laura is going to see the bill and she’s not going to be able to contain herself.
“It’s just a room,” Julian replied. “I’ll sleep on the cot, it’ll be fine.”
“I’m not worried about it,” you grumbled. You fidgeted with the card key, unable to get it to work the first time.
“We have to go to the Academy anyways. We won’t have much time to spend here anyways.”
You finally get the key to work. “It’s late. Aren’t they closed?”
His blank expression doesn’t move. “No. The Academy is always open.”
It’s pitch black when you arrive on the steps of the Academy. Luckily there’s lightning to light up the horizon.
“You seem unnerved,” Julian said as you walked up the steps.
“No shit I’m unnerved. I feel like I’m about to walk into a haunted Saw trap.”
Julian furrowed his brows. “Saw trap?”
You shook your head. “Movie, never mind.”
At the top of the stairs was a large cylindrical office, like a ticket booth at a theater. The golden light radiating from it made it look like a large candle.
You and Julian showed your badges to the lady inside. “We’re here on orders of the Academy.”
“Yes. We’ve been waiting for you.” The woman was pale, voluptuous, and had pristine black lipstick. “Good to see you again Julian.”
His eyes shifted away.
The woman leaned forward on her small desk, making sure to brush her hair away to show her neck. “You look great.”
Your eyes shifted to Julian.
Julian cleared his throat. “Long time no see, Agatha. Just our passes pleace.”
Agatha’s dark eyes cut over to you and she winked. “Of course. I have them ready for you.” A drawer opened up before you containing to large, red badges. “They’ve been waiting for you. I would suggest you not keep them waiting.”
You and Julian each took a badge, heading inside as a bell sounded to alert the lock was off.
“You know her?” You whispered to Julian.
He remained silent as the doors opened, letting you inside. The large, grand foyer was all shades of gray. It tricked your eyes, making you think you’d stepped into an old cartoon.
“It’s to perceive unperceivable things,” Julian whispered to you. “Magic, specters, this allows the guards to see it all.”
You weren’t aware of them, but as you walked in further you saw the great stone gargoyles peering down upon the room. At once, all their heads turned and faced in your direction. Their eyes illuminated to deep purple then dark pink.
“My Mr investigators! Welcome!” A man suddenly appeared beside one of the larger gargoyles. He was draped in gray robes to match the room, but his large owl eyes were the most radiant shade of gold. “I have been so excited for your arrival!” He then appeared on the landing overlooking you. “Mr. Aster, it has been a while!” He was now beside you, taking hold of your hand. Julian made a step closer to you, nearly putting his hand on your shoulder.
The owl man smiled at you, his eyes bright as sunlight. “I’ve read up on you. Quite the remarkable young lady.” He took your hand, touching the smooth side of his beak against your skin. “Come along now! I have much to show you.” he was suddenly on theont he stairs, happily skipping up them.
“What is that?” You whispered to Julian as you walked to the stairs.
“Lord Athena as he is known here. Archie is what he’ll insist you call him.”
You furrowed your brow. “Me?”
Julian had an unpleasant frown upon his face. It almost made him, dare you even think, like a little boy. “He prefers women. I’ll leave it at that.”
“I see.” You looked ahead to spot Archie but he was gone again. You looked around, noticing more people walking the hallways on this floor.
“This way.” Archie was behind you, taking your hand and guiding you in the right direction. “Don’t worry! I know your combat skills are second only to Mr. Aster here.”
Julian remained silent with that same boyish frown on his face.
“We are so excited to reveal to you our findings with this effigy magic!” Archie spun you around like you were dancing then dipped you back, to which your instant response was to giggle. “I’m sure you’re eager to see all the gorey details.”
“Lord Athena,” Julian said with a snarl.
Archie straightened, setting you back on your feet. “Oh come on, it’s so stuffy here. I get fussed at enough.” he winked at you. “We can have a dance later, right?”
You held back another girlish giggle. Something about Archie was wonderfully charming.
“I know,” he tapped a feather finger to his lips. “We must work before we have fun.” He led you into a room where there was a two way mirror and a long table. Inside were other members of the Academy, murmuring over papers and glass vials.
A light turned on behind the two way mirror, revealing one of the zombies that had been apprehended the day before.
“It looks rough,” you murmured to Julian.
“Keep looking,” he whispered into your ear as he sat down. “I need your eyes.” He turned back to the members of the Academy, while you were transfixed on the zombie as well as his words.
The findings were boring. You had gone over these exact same things during the car ride. They weren’t giving away everything, you knew they wouldn’t reveal it all, you would need to question them. You looked at Archie, who too seemed bored by the proceedings.
“If there is someone within the Academy using this effigy magic, we want them found and dealt with swiftly.”
“Of course, Madame,” Julian replied. “We want this problem fixed as thesethey attacks are becoming a threat to public safety.”
Your eyes cut back to the zombie behind glass. They looked fairly human when captured, save for the milky eyes and rapid alopecia. But this zombie, it looked far too decayed for just one day. The nose was gone, patches of skin were dry and sunken.
“What do you see?” a voice whispered in the back of your mind.
Your hair stood on end.
“Look at it.”
You looked back at the zombie and a weight came to your eyes. You cupped your cheek, keeping your head up. You focused on the dry skin, the missing nose.
“Heavy experimentation? No. You don’t think so do you. You don’t think this is a zombie we’ve met.” The voice continued to tickle the back of your mind.
“No,” you said.
“What was that, officer?”
You flinched, unaware you had said that outloud. “I said…no.”
“You don’t think this is adequate information for you?” The Madame said.
You swallowed the panic clawing at your throat. “No.” You repeated. “I don’t think it is. This is…mediocre if I am honest. I expected more.”
Archie grew a giant, mischievous smile, meanwhile Julian nodded along in agreement.
“If you believe this effigy magic is coming from inside your own ranks, I must agree. It feels like you're purposefully trying to hide some of your findings, Madame.”
“I assure you, we are not.” She replied.
You were later given a roster of Academy employees who had knowledge on effigy magic and zombie creation to interview. But something was still bothering you. While doing interviews, you had to take a small break to go to the bathroom.
Passing down a hall, you saw Archie on his own, sitting on a bench. You went on towards the bathroom door, but then Archie was there, in front of you.
“Don’t hit me!” He threw up his hands, sensing your reflexes kick into action. “I just wanted to say hello.”
You furrowed your brow at him. “Then don’t jump in front of me like that. Especially not in front of the bathroom!”
He bowed slightly. “My apologies. I was simply curious to see how your investigation is going.”
“I can’t say at the moment.”
Archie chuckled. “You have a keen eye, don’t you, officer.” He tilted his head towards his shoulder. “I saw you watching that zombie.”
He liked women, Julian said. Maybe you could use that. “Well, I couldn’t stare at you the whole time.” You said with a giggle. “But, yes, I did notice something strange in there.”
Archie ruffled, taken by the compliment. “I tried my best to keep from staring too. I know women don’t like that. But you are quite captivating I must say.”
“Thank you.” You inched a little closer to him. “What do you know about this case by the way? I was a bit surprised you sat in on the meeting.” You reached up, fidgeting with the tie around his neck.
“Yes well,” Archie purred. “The MR is sort of my pet project.”
“Then did you create that file we were going over?” Your hand touched under his chin, stroking along his jawline.
“No,” he scoffed. “Usually I would but Madame has taken a personal interest in this case.”
You knew you were getting closer. “Why is that?”
“Well, when she was a young woman, she gained the Academy’s attention with her own form of effigy magic.”
Your eyes widened and Archie froze, realizing he said something he shouldn’t have. “Excuse me,” he chuckled. “I’m afraid I let something…slip.” He vanished from in front of the door. You raced back to the interview room, grabbing Julian and tugging him outside.
“Madame knows effigy magic,” you gasped.
Julian furrowed his brow. “Are you sure?”
“Archie told me.”
Julian’s gaze became distant and he looked down the hall then back at you. “When did you talk to Archie?”
“Just now.”
He nodded. “I see. Well, this is certainly something we need to look into.” He went back into the interview room, not holding the door like he usually did. You followed after him to finish this last interview of the day.
Back at the hotel, you were groggy and out of sorts. You were nearly nodding away on the long elevator ride. You yawned, noticing that Julian was nearly shoved into the corner, his hand around his mouth and nose.
“What’s wrong?” You asked.
“You should go to the bathroom when we get back.”
You frowned. “What?”
Julian closed his eyes and gulped. “You’re bleeding.”
You were snapped awake like ice hit the backside of your head. You never went to the bathroom! Your menstrual cup was probably overflowing.
“Oh my god!” You pinched your thighs together.
“I’m sorry.” Julian’s voice was raspy behind his hand.
“This is so humiliating!” You watched the illuminated numbers climb too slowly. Once it reached your floor, you bolted from the elevator and locked yourself in the bathroom. You stayed there a long time, too afraid to face Julian outside.
You had washed your bloodied pants and underwear, planning on laying them out on the balcony. As you opened the bathroom door you heard deep breathing, even a moan. You stalled, watching from a crack in the door as Julian was huddled at the foot of the bed, shirtless, huffing and puffing.
“Are you alright?” You asked before coming out.
Julian sat up, turning around to reveal the blood redness of his usually pale eyes. “Are you?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, chuckling to brush it off. “Sorry about that. I guess I just let work overrun my mind.”
“It’s natural.” He averted his eyes, placing his hand over his mouth. There was a slight flush to his cheeks. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know this…one room situation isn’t preferable.”
“Yeah me too,” you pouted, feeling a touch bad for him. “Does the smell bother you?”
He flinched, his widened slightly.
“Blood and all. I remember you telling me once that sometimes it’s like-” you stopped, feeling how horribly red he was becoming. Hell, part of his face even looked purple. “Sorry.”
“No. No it’s alright,” he whispered. He slowly dropped his hand. “I suppose, to keep our working relationship working, I should be honest.” His upper lip curved differently, behind them, his canine teeth were much larger, almost sticking out over his bottom lip.
“Oh,” you gasped.
“I keep my bloodlust in check with regular plasma sodas. But uhm-”
There was something about this vulnerable expression he never let out that was making your heart pulse. Shit! Not in front of him! “No, no, you don’t need to explain.”
He scoffed and cupped his hand around his mouth. “I enjoy working with you. Even being around you.”
That confession might as well have been a bomb.
“I would like to keep working with you.” His eyes cut back to you. He reached for his shirt, tugging it back on before standing. You noticed he shook a bit. “You rest. I’ll take my time showering to not disturb you.”
“You haven’t.” Not in the way he was saying anyways. “Uhm…how about I go down to the bar and get us something?”
Julian nodded. “Thank you. Surprise me.” Despite the darkness of the room, there was a very noticeable bulge to his jeans. But you tried your best to ignore it. But his confession, his vulnerable expression. It was hard to wipe that from your mind. It was…beautiful.
Damn your keen eyes.
Part Three:
The Madame was sitting in front of you and Julian, her dark slitted eyes narrowing upon you. Specifically you.
Crap,why is she looking at me? You thought.
She lifted her hand and pointed to you. “Do you have any more of those peppermints on your person? They always help settle my stomach.”
“Oh uh-” you fumbled as you got up. Shocked that a lady as terrifying and formidable as her had the same issues you did. “Me too.” You reached into your pocket, accidentally spilling the dozens you kept there.
Madame smirked, stooping over to pick one up off the floor. “My mother taught me the trick when I was young.”
“My grandmother!” You said with a bright smile. “She used to work for Laufey’s Candy back in the day.”
A look washed over Madam’s face, one of awe and surprise. You had been speaking with her all day, going over everything from the effigy magic case. She had been stone the entire time, unmoveable, expressionless. But this! Oh my goodness this face threw you for a loop.
Madame smiled, the first time you think she ever pulled such a thing in the walls of the Academy. “Mine too!”
“Did she used to bring you the punch candy scrap?” You asked excitedly.
Madame clasped her hands together and exclaimed excitedly. “Nothing tastes as good! I used to vibrate as a child when my mother came home with that scraps bag.”
You nodded in excitement, continuing to talk nostalgia and candy with Madame. Meanwhile, behind you, Julian was watching intently. He had not slept that night and it showed in his pale eyes.
“It was also her who first taught me about effigy magic,” she confessed this freely from the nostalgia. Her eyes fell, gazing upon the ground. “It frightened me.”
“Is that why you didn’t offer your knowledge to us when we arrived?” You asked.
“I never wanted to practice it, but my mother made me.” She pressed her lips into a firm, solid line. “I swore I would never use it once I was hired here at the Academy.”
“Then what can you tell us about the effigy magic we discovered at the MR? Do you have any theories, thoughts?” You asked her like a friend, like you were having a girl chat.
Madame sighed and tapped her lips. “That’s why I am nauseous. I can’t stand to think about it. There was blood involved…sometimes body switching…” She cupped her hand over her mouth and you offered her another peppermint.
Body switching? Did you hear that right? Was such a thing possible?
You glanced back at Julian who was watching you with awe and surprise. He had never seen Madame appear as anything other than stone-cold ruthless.
“Why was your mother teaching your effigy magic?” You asked.
“Family tradition, she considered it an art, just like my grandmother, her mother before her, her mother before her-” Madame let out a heavy, labored sigh. “Since I couldn't have children, she forced me to take on a ward.”
The hairs on the back of your neck bristled.
“Who was it?” Julian spoke up.
Madame seemed to remember where she was and gasped. “Oh…I uhm-” she gave you a wary look. “She was a dhampir.” She said this with caution, her eyes cutting to Julian.
You moved away from Madame, turning to face Julian. You approached him, hoping to catch the storm at the pass. Instead, you saw his expression become sickly.
“She came to me for advice and my mother saw potential in her.” Madame fidgeted in her seat, continuing to steal glances towards Julian. “She said someone like her would be able to carry on the art for far longer than our blood could.”
“Who was she?” Julian slid his fingers through his hair, trying to keep his composure.
Madame’s stony appearance slowly began to return. “I’m sorry, Julian.”
He stood up abruptly, startling you. He swiftly moved towards the door you gave chase, trying to keep pace with him.
“Julian! Stop!” You called out to him. He was quickly outpacing you and heading towards the stairs. You leaned over the railing to watch him bolt to the exit. “Julian!”
Someone clutched your shoulder from behind. “Let him go, he needs to blow off some steam,” Archie laughed.
You furrowed your brow as you looked back at him. “I should really check on him. He didn’t have a good night.”
“I thought he looked haggard.” Archie sighed. “So, what did Madame say to make him so-” he breathed in through his teeth, “angsty?”
You didn’t feel it was your place to say to Archie. “I was about to go have lunch. Why not come with me?”
You brushed Archie off. “Sorry.”
“No. No. I see.” he smirked, tapping his chin. “Off to rescue the handsome prince.”
You shook your head. “He’s my partner, my responsibility. He would do the same for me.”
“Be careful , little investigator,” Archie chuckled. His tone almost sounded ominous. “Vampires, and dhampirs, have increased fight or flight responses despite their cold demeanorsdeamnors.”
Frowning, you went down the stairs, leaving the Academy doors. The car was still parked out front, meaning Julian had left on foot.
You drove slowly back to the hotel, keeping an eye along the way for Julian and his dark clothes. Once you made it back to the hotel, you searched around there before going back up to the room. But he wasn’t there either.
“Crud,” you grumbled. You took a seat at the foot of the bed. “Where have you gotten to?” You took out your phone. It had been off since that morning, Academy rules and all. You turned it on, hoping Julian’s was miraculously on too when you called.
A ringtone sounded in the room. You looked around, seeing his phone was on the dresser. “Dammit, Julian!” You huffed, going over and picking his phone up.
His background was the photo taken the day Florence had been assigned chief. You and Julian had presented a plaque to the old chief together and were dressed in uniforms, standing side by side.
Your heart fluttered ever so slightly.
“Can I have that?”
You could have raised out of your skin he scared you so badly. “Fucking! Fuck! Fuck!” You stomped your feet, grasping his phone and your phone to your chest. “Where have you been?” You barked at him in retaliation.
“Please. Let me have it,” his voice was hoarse.
You held the phone behind your back. “Not until you tell me why you ran away like that? I thought you wanted information on your sister? I assumed that’s who it is by the way. We’re partners here, we have to work together.”
Julian let out a whimper that struck you with lightning.
“Julian-”
“I need blood,” his voice warbled weakly. “Please. Give me my phone.”
You offered it out and he snatched it. He turned away from you, shaking as he tried to dial on the screen.
“So uh…you eat your emotions?”
Julian shot you a wicked look.
You held up your hands in defense. “Hey! It’s okay. I do it sometimes too. You’re stressed out right? It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t,” he growled. “I get stressed, I drink blood.”
“How much do you need?”
Julian glared. “No! Do not start what I think you’re going to!”
“I’m bleeding already-” Julian hand cupped around your mouth, pushing you back slightly. His eyes bore into yours, making your insides squirm and wriggle. Was this exciting? Scary? Think girl, think!
“I wouldn’t…I couldn’t…not you,” he rasped. “I just need…a bag.”
With his hand cupped around your mouth you couldn’t try to offer again. You were bleeding freely as it was, you didn’t need it. Did vampires like period blood even?
Julian slowly moved his hand away. “You always do this. You always put yourself in danger.”
You scoffed. “Do not!”
“The other night with the zombies? Why did you have to follow it? You could have told me to go searching.”
“We’re equals and I love my job! We’re partners, Julian! I’m not a sidekick to you. I’m at this job despite it being dangerous.” You stood your ground. “You treat me like a child.”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt!” You snapped.
“I don’t want to see you making yourself sick!” You barked back, jabbing his broad, strong chest with your finger.
You both stilled and a quiet permeated the air. The sound of a vacuum going off made you snap out of it.
“Why did you run?” you repeated.
“I panicked.” He sounded guilty. “I wasn’t professional. But you…you did great. You broke through Madame. No one has ever done that before.”
“The power of Laufey Candy.” You forced out a chuckle then pressed your palm upon his chest. “Do you think it could be your sister?”
“If it is, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
You nodded. “I do. Madame mentioned part of the effigy magic she was taught included blood and body switching. If she has switched bodies with someone, maybe there is a tell that Madame could tell us.”
Julian put his hand over yours upon his chest. He was shivering.
“You can drink my blood if it helps,” you offered again. “I need you in your best shape when we go back to the Academy.”
A strained look painted his face. There was something boyish about it. A child who broke a toy or stole a cookie. “If I taste you, I may not stop,” he whispered, his voice as quiet as rustling grass. “If I have you inside me…”
You swallowed. It was as if every fiber of your being was pulling to him. “What? You’ll explode?”
He chuckled softly, taking your hand that was on his chest and moving it up until he pressed his lips against it. “Maybe.”
You were about to explode yourself. “I don’t mind,” you breathed. “I mean! Uhm…if you need something to eat.”
“Why would you offer that?”
Your voice shook as you tried to speak. “We’re partners. I want us to…you know, help each other?”
He took one of your fingers, placing it in his mouth. His tooth was sharp against your fingertip, but you noticed your skin going numb. After a moment, he bit, puncturing your finger. You only felt the pressure. He exhaled then closed his lips around your fingers.
Your heart was thrumming, drumming, a whole black metal concert of it. You stepped closer as his tongue lapped at your fingertip. That vulnerable look was on his face again. Pathetic, needy. You liked it.
He kissed you, hungrily. The taste of your blood was on his tongue, yet you didn’t mind. You returned the kiss, cupping his face between your hands. You wanted to wipe away that pathetic look on his face, you wanted to replace it with something else.
You were pushed down onto the bed, pinned by Julian’s strong limbs. “If I do this-” his voice cracked.
“Then you did it,” you whispered.
Julian scoffed, taking off his shirt. “I find stubbornness to be an attractive quality.” He placed his shirt under you and slid his knee up between your legs.
Your face was burning hot like embers. “Have you ever…fed like this before?”
“I have,” he sounded awfully calm about this. He undid the buttons on your pants, tugging them open then lifting your hips to pull them off. “The few partners I have had have offered similar things.”
“Partners or…”
“Lovers.” Julian hand cupped over your underwear, gently kneading your mound.
“I just wore a pad today,” you quickly gasped.
“I see.” His eyes flashed up to you, having gone from pale to suddenly dark. They were completely black. “What about you?”
“I mean…I’ve gone down on girls before but this is new.”
Julian smirked. “I never knew that.” He tugged at your panties, pulling the elastic until your pubic hair was exposed.
“Yeah well,” you scoffed.
“Did you like the taste?” His voice was becoming a deep purr. “Did you like making them wet?”
You weren’t sure but lava was certainly running down your face now. “You like making people hard?”
“I do.” He pulled off your panties, letting them hang around one ankle.
“Well then, we have something in common,” your voice cracked as he began lowering himself down.
His tongue was on you, almost cold, but not quite. He moaned softly, pressing kisses to your labia. He used to fingers to spread you open and he pressed his tongue inside.
You squirmed for a second, shutting your eyes tight. He moaned between your thighs, pressing in closer, growling, wrapping his arms around your thighs and lifting you up off the bed. There really wasn’t much time for you to think. His lips were cool, his breath beat upon you. His tongue lapped at you, pressing, pushing until it slipped between your lips.
You gasped, tensing as his tongue penetrated inside you. He moaned deeply, pressing his face even closer. The vibrations of his sounds of pleasure traveled through your body, tickling up your limbs. His strong nose rubbed against your clit, awakening deeper pleasure.
You closed your eyes, losing your breath the more he tasted, touched. His fingers rubbed your vulva, stimulating you more than his tongue.
“Wait-” he gasped, pulling up his head.
“No!” You whined and beat your fists against the mattress. You were so close!
Julian’s black eyes met yours, his lips were red, covered in your blood. He eased your rear back onto the bed, sitting over you with this glazed, puppy dog look. “I’ve had feelings for you,” he caught his breath. “For a long while now.”
You were too stunned to speak. He says this now???
“I’m awkward around most people. That’s why I keep to myself a lot. I was excited when I was assigned with you. But the more we worked together the more I…yearned.”
You propped yourself up to sit beside him. You were horny, shocked, but you were also relieved. “Yearned? That’s a big word to use.”
He averted his eyes shyly. “It is accurate to my feelings.”
You let out a deep breath. “When I first got assigned to the MR I was attracted to your silent, brooding, mysterious shtick. You’re beautiful, obviously.” You pouted slightly. “But you kept getting in my way. Even once we got partnered I felt overshadowed. But…I also hated the way people looked at you. It felt like they were taking something that belonged to me, and then that pissed me off.”
“I know.”
You frowned at him. “Don’t act like you know everything!”
A small smile appeared on his face. He licked his lips, wiping away the excess blood. “I just wanted you to know my feelings before we continued. If we continue,” he murmured and his eyes darted to you. “If we have sex, I’ll for sure fall in love with you.”
Your heart almost stopped.
“Yeah well,” you coughed to clear your throat. “There are worse things that could happen.” You placed your hand on his thigh, moving up until your fingers brushed against something long and warm. It pulsed.
You pushed him down onto the bed, kissing him from his lips to his neck where you bit him. He whimpered, sounding weak and pathetic. Good. You kissed down his chest, nipping and tugging at the piercings.
Your journey ended at his zipper, which you undid and were smacked hard in the nose by his thick, throbbing cock.
“Holy shit!” You exclaimed as you took in the giant white oak erect before you.
Julian fidgeted, pinching his thighs together.
You grasped him in your hand, squeezing the base. “How do you work with this thing all day?”
Julian made little grunts and whimpers in an attempt to speak.
You eyed the blue veins pulsing on the shaft, the slight curve. Then you saw the beads embedded under the skin, ridged bumps along the head of his cock. There was also a ring coming from the tip.
“You have some interesting piercings, Julian,” you breathed, kissing his shaft, licking his tip.
Julian flinched, arching his hips.
“Are you sensitive?” You teased. You put his whole tip in your mouth, sucking. The piercing was strangely nice against your tongue.
He cried out, arching his back off the bed.
“Goodness,” you chuckled. “No wonder you’re used to giving head.” You sat up, climbing upon him and straddling his hips. “I hope you’re not a quick cummer,” you moaned. “Because I want to watch you squirm all night.”
Julian was biting his lip, hard. His eyes were watery and wide with a slight flush to his cheeks. Pathetic, adorable, there was so much more you could do to melt his ice. You lifted up slightly, guiding that monster of a cock to your slit. YOu rubbed against it, teasing him yet again. Tormenting would probably be a better word.
“Hot!” He cried out.
“Am I warm?” You murmured. “Do you want me all around you?”
Julian nodded, panting weakly.
You smirked, slowly easing him inside. His monster cock was a lot to take. So thick…so long! The bumps under his skin also rubbed all the right places.
“Go slow,” he whispered.
You leaned over him, kissing what you could reach. “I’ll be gentle,” you chuckled. “As long as I can.” You rolled your hips, grinding him inside. Fuck! That big cock of his really delighted every spot.
Julian reached back, holding the headboard in his fists.
“I like this look on you,” you moaned. “Seeing you so weak, so sweet.” You licked your lips. “It makes me hungry.”
“Quiet-” he tried to stammer out.
You giggled, moving from grinding to bouncing upon him. Each time you fell upon him, he hit so deep inside it took your breath away. Julian for sure wasn’t breathing. You took control, but he was taking away your thoughts. His thick, long cock was taking over you, fulfilling a desire that ached.
Julian rose up, latching his arms tight around you. He kissed you, bouncing you in his lap. Then, his lips trailed, going to your neck where his teeth punctured the skin. You gasped in alarm, ready to push him away, but then, oh god then…
He drank you and everything went warm.
Part Four:
It was a good thing you packed a turtleneck for the trip. You wouldn’t dare admit you had gotten it because of how good Julian looked in his, but that was the truth. You were groggy in the car, barely able to keep your eyes open. Julian came out from the gas station, placing a cold bottle of orange juice in your hands.
“I also got you a few breakfast items.” His skin looked flushed, pinker. His eyes were still jet black from last night.
You cracked into the orange juice, drinking deeply. “Coffee?” You slurred after letting go of the lip of the bottle.
“That too.” Julian said as he sat back down in the driver’s seat. He placed the tall cup in the holder. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” you wiped your mouth with your sleeve. “I’ve never orgasmed like that in my life.”
“Shh. Don’t say that-” Julian hissed.
You eyed him. “What? Orgasm?”
He flinched.
“I almost blacked out when I came,” you sighed. “My pussy still feels your huge cock deep inside me.” You said and took a sip of orange juice.
“Please! We still have interviews to do!” He said through gnashed teeth.
“My goodness you’re easy.” You switched orange juice for coffee. You sipped upon it, finding it mixed just to your specifications. You sighed with relief. Good old caffeine. “I thought I knew you, Julian.”
“You’re still fresh inside me,” he huffed. “When I feed I can…perform readily and easily.”
“Perform?” You looked down at his lap. “Well, let me buy tickets to the next show because I was thoroughly entertained,” you chuckled.
Julian stopped the car at the stop sign, quickly turning and capturing a kiss before you put more coffee into your veins. It stunned you for a moment, then you melted into it. You touched his chiseled face, remember how sweet and simpering he looked last night.
“Will you be okay today?” You whispered.
Julian butted his head against yours. “Let's hope so.”
“Just don’t run away again, okay? That makes me look bad,” you teased. You went in for another kiss, but a car behind you honked loudly.
Back at the Academy, Madame was waiting for you at the door and she swept you away to her office.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she murmured. “I should have come clean about…everything.”
“Do you know where Selene is now?” Julian asked, almost returned to his usual chilly persona.
Madame shook her head. “No. She got all she needed from me and vanished.” She caught notice of you throwing away your coffee cup. “If you need more, the employee lounge is just down the hall. The good coffee is in there. Green handle.”
“Thank you.” You placed your hand on Julian’s shoulder. “Can you handle this?”
He nodded. “I’m fine now.”
You left, heading down the hallway where you found yourself following the scent of coffee like a cereal toucan. The lounge was empty and gentle music played over a speaker. You poured yourself another tall cup and began to add cream.
“Back for another day of grand investigation?” Archie was suddenly beside you.
You flinched, glancing towards him before placing a lid on your coffee. “Yes.”
He leaned down towards you. “Yesterday your partner seemed to run off in quite a hurry. Was everything alright?”
“Yes. it’s okay now. He just found out some rather…personal news, let’s just say.” You took a deep drink, and damn! If it wasn’t a fine cup of coffee.
“It looks like he gave you quite a fright,” Archie hummed.
“Hm?”
“Well you look rather pale my dear. And that turtleneck.”
You went to step aside but Archie’s hand was suddenly around your neck. He yanked down the turtleneck to spy the bite mark on your throat.
“Let go!” You snapped.
He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Julian was always such a picky eater. But a neat one at that.” His fingers brushed against your neck, turning your blood cold.
Your coffee dropped from your hands as you grabbed hold of Archie’s arm, twisting and then tossing him over your shoulder as you swung around. He hit the ground with a loud thud, shaking the room, distorting the music.
“Oh? So the little girl can fight, can she?” Archie’s voice was strange. It shifted, going in and out with another voice. He rose up onto his arms, his turning bright white. “But can you handle me?”
He lunged and you dodged, rushing around him while reaching for the gun at your side. His body elongated, becoming snake-like. His mouth opened wide, cracking back further than it should. Inside was a woman’s face.
You shot, turning and running as, whatever that was, recoiled. People were crowding in the hallway to see what the commotion was.
“Everyone! Get out!” You yelled.
They began to cluster around you, blocking you off from the hallway. They grabbed at you, tugged your clothes, forced you back towards the employee lounge.
“No! Let go!” You screamed.
The woman laughed. “Why don’t you use that gun? Huh? Isn’t that what it’s for?”
You didn’t know if these people were innocent. It would be risky. That, and the fact one of the people grabbing you was holding you in such a way you couldn’t pull the trigger if you wanted.
“I don’t like the idea that my little brother did god knows what to you, but you’re exactly what I need.” The woman cackled behind you as you were shoved down onto the ground.
You were struggling. It would be easy to fight your way out of this, usually. You were weak, exhausted, all from a night you would have bragged about. But now, you were just pissed.
A woman with long dark hair stood over you, her smile a bit too big for her beautiful face. “Hello there.”
You fought against hands and arms holding you down, getting red in the face from effort. You yelled out, but she cupped her hand around your mouth.
“Shh, shh, sweet girl. Don’t make any unnecessary noise.” She knelt over you, her long hair falling along the side of your face. “You do have nice skin.” Her fingers slipped along your lips, sealing them shut with a touch.
You fought more as adrenaline pumped through your veins.
“I took the time to make this private for us,” she whispered. “Shh.” She ran your hair through her fingers, tickling your scalp with her long nails. “It’ll take me a while to get used to a human body again. But I had to work so hard to keep that bird under control. It’ll be nice to relax a bit.” Her nails dug in at the nape of your neck, trying to break skin.
You arm broke free, and your gun became pressed to Selene’s chin. Your arm was grabbed at and pulled, but the adrenaline had made you stone.
She chuckled. “Go ahead. Make my day little girl. Do you think you bullets could do anything to m-”
Suddenly the arms and hands around you went slack and you were able to pull yourself up from the ground. Blood dripped down the back of your neck, caught by the turtleneck. Great! Exactly what you needed, less blood.
You turned and aimed your gun at Selene again who was clutching her hands around her bloody jaw. She looked up at you, eyes completely white.
“Silver bullets.”
She gurgled and made guttural noises. She rose up, clutching her jaw with one hand while reaching for you with the other.
“It’s all the MR uses.” You took another shot, but a body on the ground grabbed you and the shot went into the ceiling.
Selene screamed, throwing herself upon you, bleeding upon your face. Her jaw sealed back to her skull and her tongue slithered back into place. The gun was slapped out of your hand, skittering across the room. Selene was in your face, breathing heavily.
“They all put up fights!” She wrapped her hands around your head again, placing her nails along the back of your neck and scalp. “Don’t think you’re special, little girl. None have escaped me.”
You're trying to fight back, but adrenaline won’t save you now. There’s too many hands, too much force. You’re pinned to the ground, limbs held down as if you’re displayed in a museum. Selene hovers over you, jaw still healing, speech very rasped and slurred.
Where’s Julian? He’s always saved you before. He’s always known! Where is he?
Selene’s smile was crooked. “I know what you're thinking. Little brother won’t be here. I’ve seen to that. We get to be alone and become acquainted.”
There’s another gunshot that grazes Selene’s shoulder. She ears out in pain, turning to see the form of Archie holding our gun. She lunges at him, and he shoots again and again, hitting her neck and her arm. Selene tackles him and once again the bodies around you go limp.
You manage to get on your hands on knees, shaking from fear. You slowly rise up, seeing Selene on top of Archie’s body. You tackle her, biting down on the healing wound of her neck and ripping it open more with your teeth. She screams, rearing back and trying to throw you off. Somehow, you hold on.
“Selene stop!”
Everything went quiet. You keep your teeth locked onto her neck so the wound won’t close.
“I made this mess,” Madame snarled. “I knew it was risky teaching you.”
Selene’s voice came out as a rasped, strained sound. “I’m glad you did. Don't’ beat yourself up about it.”
Your jaw was beginning to ache, and the taste of blood made you want to vomit.
Where was Julian?
“Let her go, Selene. Let Archie go.” Madame’s voice was ominous.
Selene’s garbled, hissing laughter filled the room. “Or what?”
Bodies began to rise again. You clung harder to Selene, ready for them to rip you to shreds before you released her. They clustered towards you, pulling at you, grabbing your face. They dragged Archie away and Selene was still laughing. But then she choked. The bodies were taking hold of her as well, peeling you off so they could force her down upon the ground.
“Bring her here.” Madame beckoned.
You were taken to Madame’s side, left to rest at her feet.
“It’s alright now,” Madame murmured. “I’ve got this under control.”
You coughed, almost throwing up. “Ju-” You dry heaved. “Julian?”
Madame’s eyes were glowing bright white and dark, back veins spread across her skin. “Making sure the Academy staff is safe. He’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”
You managed to stand up on shaky knees. You instantly had to turn around and vomit.
“Here.” Madame offered out a peppermint to you as you recovered. “I brought a few today with me as well.”
You took the peppermint and eagerly placed it on your tongue. Instantly better.
“What happened?” You asked, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.
“She had my office sealed off once you left. Julian became disoriented by the magic she was using. Luckily, I was prepared.” She said with a smirk.
Selene was screaming as the bodies kept her pinned down.
“I feel like an idiot. I didn't realize how deeply she had infiltrated us. I suppose using Archie, she knew we would trust him.”
You glanced down at Archie’s form on the floor. “I thought it was you.”
“I know.”
Academy knights finally moved into action. They disabled the magic on those controlled by Selene and were able to subdue her. You and Archie were taken to the Academy hospital and you were hooked up to a mighty blood bag.
Finally, Julian was able to see you.
He rushed in, nearly hitting the doctor who opened the door. He held you tight, burying his face in your hair.
You relaxed in his embrace. “It’s fine. I handled myself.”
He inspected your cuts, your bruises. His eyes wide and watery. The sad puppy dog eyes really did suit him. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t there.”
You cupped his cheek. “I was, so it’s fine. I got a good shot at her.”
“I heard,” he murmured, kissing your cheek. “You bit her.”
You smirked. “I did. Kept her bleeding so she got weak.”
Julian sighed, clutching your hand to his chest where you could feel his heart racing. “I tried to get to you.”
“Your job is to protect innocent civilians first. You did that. I’m not some damsel you need to rescue all the time.” You smiled. “You would have just gotten in my way again.”
Julian returned your smile. “I know.”
You glanced across the room where a curtain separated you from the other bed. “Check on Archie. Please?”
Julian gave your knuckles one last kiss before he stood up.
You eased back into the bed, watching the tube in your arm and following it up to the bag. “Fine cup of coffee,” you grumbled.
A few days later you were sent home. Everything looked fine, Madame even gave you a once over to make sure Selene hadn’t laid any of her magic in you. All clear. No magic, just blood loss.
“I know I’m going to gift you for saving my life,” Archie said. “But I’m just not sure what sort of gift it will be.” Getting to know the real Archie was a treat. He was spirited, flirty, and eager to make friends.
You were eating your dessert while he was talking. “You don’t need to give me anything, Archie. I was doing my job.”
“But because of you I have my body back! I have my life back! You saved my life in more ways than one. I simply cannot let that go unrewarded.” His eyes were a bright, shimmering shade of purple, no longer dark from Selene’s influence.
“Live a long healthy life?” You offered as an out.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve already done that. Tell you what? I’ll just surprise you since you won’t accept it.”
“It’s no that I’m not, I’m just telling you that you don’t have to”
He wagged his long finger in your face. “No. No. No. I insist. If you weren't already attached to Mr. Aster I would sweep you off your feet and court you proper until you agreed to take my hand in matrimony.”
You giggled. “Surely you could find a better catch than me.”
Archie gave you a seductive smile, leaning onto your bed with you. “You saved my life, it would be only fair if I gave it to you in return.”
You were awarded by the Academy for your service in protecting the facility. Given a medal and everything, and an assurance that your MR department would be heavily rewarded for yours and Julian’s efforts.
There were gifts in your apartment from everyone at the MR. Casseroles filled your fridge and flowers covered your entire table.
Julian set your bag down upon your sofa. “I’ve never seen your place.”
“Well, I don’t usually have this many flowers.” You sighed.
He smiled, eyes wandering along a wall of family pictures. You stepped before him, cutting off his gaze so he didn’t see the silly baby pictures your mother made you put up.
“Should we talk about what happened?”
Julian was stooped over a bouquet, sniffing the flowers. “Which part?”
“All of it?” You offered. “I mean…let’s start with your sister.”
Julian sighed heavily. He brushed back his hair away from his face as he turned his gaze towards the windows. “I decided I didn’t want to speak to her. Not yet anyways.”
“Why not?” You asked with a furrowed brow.
“Right now, I’m too angry. I coul;dn’t face her with a level head. I need time to sort this out. Madame promised she would keep me updated. I also know where she is now. Which is…good.” he sounded unsure if that was the right word or not.
“After searching so long I’m sure.” You took a deep breath.
His dark eyes cut back to you. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Stop,” you huffed. “Ugh. Whatever. Okay, so you and I…” You bit on the inside of your cheek. “You and me fucked.”
He nodded, silent.
“And it was very good. Very mutual.” You were trying to keep your strength up. “And we both admitted some things. Some things that as partners might make a mess at work.”
“It might,” he agreed.
“I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t all done in the heat of the moment,” you said matter of factly. “Was it?”
“No.” He said that so quickly, you barely got the question out. “It was said in the heat of the moment, but it was true. I care about you, deeply. I’ve yearn-”
“Yearned, I know.” Your face was getting hot again. “And I agree.”
Julian dipped down, kissing you. You cupped his face between your palms, melting into that kiss.
“You should go and rest,” Julian murmured.
You shook your head. “Oh no! I’ve not been able to stop thinking about that big, hard cock of yours pretty boy.” You smirked as Julian shivered, his cold expression melting away. “I keep thinking about how much you made me cum. How deep you were inside me.” You dragged your lips along his neck.
“You just got out of the hospital,” he whimpered. “You really should rest.”
You giggled. “You promised you would take care of me. I know what my body can handle. But most importantly I know what my body wants.” You took hold of his hand. “Come on, I haven’t shown you my bedroom yet.”
Julian clutched your hand, holding on tight. “You’re sexy when you're stubborn.”
“I know,” you said with a big grin plastered on your face. You squeezed his hand, pulling him along behind you.
unedited. wrote this while taking a break from finishing his fic bc I forget just how rich Sylus is.
It's rare, but occasionally Sylus gets you mad. And the victim of your rage isn't him... but his bank account — specifically, the black card he's given you to use.
"Serves him right. I hope you go broke," you bitterly muttered, purchasing whatever comes to sight.
Usually, you're adamant about not using his money, specifically this card, despite his constant reminder to use it without guilt.
But when he finally comes home, days without warning or contacting you, with his clothes covered in blood and face full of exhaustion, that breaks the camel's back for you.
The result —
A new dining set, this time plated with gold. -$5k.
A new set of diamonds and pearls. -$9k.
A new Camaleonda sofa set. -$25k.
A Hästens bed set that you'll be using alone. -$150,000k.
So when Sylus gets a phone call asking if these purchases were fraudulent or if he would want to lock his card in case it was stolen, he chuckles while he taps his finger on his desk, smirking.
cute. so so cute.
He informs the banker on the other line, “No, run those purchases through."
"But sir, are you sure...? Whoever this is, they've also purchased 100 kitty plushies?"
Unfazed, Sylus responded, "That’s just my future wife throwing a tantrum. She’s cute, no?”
"I-I see."
How adorable and naive were you to think this would ever bother him — no, it excited him even more whenever you decided to challenge him, especially when you didn't allow him to touch you ever since he's gotten back.
And before he ends the call, he orders, "Send me a list of what she purchases, and make a transfer into that account so she could spend more."
Not too long after, you receive a text from him.
From: Don't You Dare Get Weak And Call Him First 🔪
I expedited that bed, Kitten.
But why don't we put it to good use and give your new plushies a good show, Sweetie?
Tonight.
The only time you ever smoke a cigarette is before you ruin your own life. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy, self-destructive behavior begetting self-destruction, an ouroboros of a downward spiral. At least, that's what your past therapist told you, and he was a rather intelligent man. He had a good head on his shoulders-
-unfortunately, it stood no chance against your head, which you gave him right on that stupid fucking couch, underneath the corny poster about health coping mechanisms.
(Honestly, you miss the guy. He was a dick, but his dick was fat.)
Today, when you pull out the pack of cigarettes, right after patrol has ended, your boss is watching with a hint of a smile. His hair is freshly cropped, tussled and windswept with sweat, tucked behind his ear and curled at the back of his neck.
"You shouldn't smoke," he comments, rather neutrally. "It's bad for you."
"Aw, but it makes me look so cool," you tease. "Every little kid is gonna wanna emulate me and get themselves some Seven Stars."
Shouto kisses the back of his teeth and you can't tell if he's more amused or annoyed. "You're ridiculous."
You have no idea what the bad thing you're gonna do is, but you also do. It's brewing, settling into your teeth like cavities.
When you lean against the wall of the agency, the red brick catches against your spandex suit. The costume is tight, with a zipper in the front ( the designer's choice, not yours. You would have made the same decision, though.)
"Hey," you hold up your cigarette. "Will you light your poor sidekick up?"
"You could do it yourself," But Shouto is already reaching out, fingers pinched together to produce the smallest flicker of flame between them. You hunch forward, dragging in to make the flame catch. He's close enough that you can smell his sweat, close enough that you make eye contact when you gaze up at him through your lashes.
Shouto's face rarely betrays his real emotions, but he can't hide how his body reacts. There's a puff of his chest as you pull away, a deep, wide inhale to steady himself.
"I like it better when you take care of me." Smoke coils up at you speak. Shouto looks away with his eyes, but his body is still angled towards you, betraying his attention.
You know exactly how you're going to ruin your own life this week.
Honestly, you wish you had some sort of forethought when it comes to these sorts of things. Your life would be easier if you knew how to play a long game, how to line up puzzle pieces or win at emotional chess. No, you are impatient, set on destroying your life in record time.
Today, you pour gasoline down on your home by entering the men's locker room.
Everyone else has left hours ago, leaving just you and Shouto, alone. Usually, you'd be gone by now too, but instead of putting on your street clothes, you strip down to your panties, no bra. You leave them right outside the door to the locker room, just in case you need a quick escape.
(You won't.)
When you enter, Shouto is sitting on the locker room's bench, tucking clothing into a backpack. It's rather humble for a top hero.
"What are you doing?" he asks when he notices you, head tilted. Then, he processes what he's seeing, and his face goes white.
You reach behind yourself and twirl the lock closed. Shouto's face falls, not with sadness or horror, but with a wide-eyed surprise. It's strangely child-like, with an innocence that almost revolts you.
"What are you doing?" he repeats. It takes three steps to get to him, another to slide your leg onto the bench. Helpless, you decide. He looks helpless, as if he couldn't easily push you down or freeze you over. His scarred eye is teary; that happens sometimes, after a long shift, when the scar tissue and smoke don't collaborate with each other. With a thumb, you reach up and wipe the spot away, and Shouto's face shifts into something pained.
"We can't be--" He can't even finish his sentence before you're shifting over him, guiding his back down against the bench. His jeans are rough against your bare skin and your tits graze against his chest as he moves.
It's almost too easy. There's no sport in the game, to toss him around without any resistance.
(You almost want the fight, the blow back. You want his anger, his vitriol: any sort of punishment for who you are and what you've become.)
"I'm not doing anything," you promise. "I just wanna see-"
You take him by the wrists and guide his hands to your body, letting his wide, gentle fingers wrap around your hips. When you start to pull them upward, he's quick to listen, his hands soon looped beneath your rib cage. His expression is still almost pained, but he's craving his neck, inching towards you helplessly-
"-if your hands are hot or cold."
His body is wracked with each breath he pulls.
"Are-?" He swallows thickly. "Are they warm?"
They are almost burning hot, even on his cooler side. "So warm."
Finally, you grace with him a kiss. It's strangely chaste, ending just as quickly as it began.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Shouto mumbles.
"That's okay." Your hands are already in his belt buckle. If you aren't getting a fight, you're getting cock at the very least. "I'll do all the work."
Author's Notes: My No Defense Zone fic I took forever on when I wrote it lol, love this man. Meant to take place as an alternative - 'what if they fucked' ending lmao
Ao3
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Frenzied breaths, a deep groan, the rise and fall of his pretty, exposed chest as your grip tightens around his strained erection. A broken noise vibrates against your neck, warm, and his hips jerk as you drag him with each pump of the wrist. Closer, closer—
The scene fades, melting away like warm honey. You groan and curl up further, muddled, disoriented, and almost convince yourself to let your mind fade into sweet serenity. It was good, felt so good, and-
…What the hell were you thinking? You jolt, startle yourself out of your spiraling thoughts and reorient. A smooth leather couch, the blurry edges of a home that costs more than you’d ever make in a lifetime, and that infuriating silver-haired man sat across the table at the armchair, idly flickering through vinyl records (you know he likes the classics.) Your eyes follow the moment of his fingers before slowly trailing up to his face. His lip quirks into a barely perceptible smirk.
“Were you dreaming?”
“You should’ve woken me up. Or given me a blanket. Hospitality much?” You grumble, properly sitting up and rubbing your bleary eyes. His own crimson ones crinkle at that, and your mind flashes — panting, the hard edges of a flushed chest as you trail your fingers down further and further. “Don’t be shy now,” He retaliates against your featherlight touch. His lip curls, trembling body betraying his collected expression. Your fingers press above his waistband, his hips push into your hand and—
You look away, but somehow, Sylus’s gaze bores into you like he can read every last filthy thought that plagues your mind. You grunt, briefly indulge in the flush-faced Sylus from your dreams overlapping with the amused one in front of you. That image of him so pliant under your touch, the thought that you could potentially work him to that state, bolsters your confidence.
“Mhm. I dreamt of a horse. An annoying one. Refuses to be tamed, tells me I’m bluffing and overreaching,” You say, leveling Sylus with a stare. It’s not the first time you’ve challenged Sylus, but this enigma manages to have you on guard with a single effective look.
“That so? What exactly did you do to him, then?” He muses, playing along. You slowly rise and approach him, pausing to stand at the armchair as his head tilts up at you in curiosity. Neck strained up, a huff of laughter leaving his throat as your hands splay across warm chest and slide down firm muscle to his hips. “Look at me,” you command when his eyes flutter shut, and drag his hips closer. He inhales sharply, and opens his eyelids just enough to see a sliver of red. Your lips drift to his pretty pale neck and bite, pulling a low grunt from him, then—
You roughly grab his chin, observing his stupidly attractive face from various angles as Sylus contentedly lets you, eyes narrowing, but otherwise unbothered. If he still wore that collar of his in the dream, you could yank him the proper way, snatch the air from his throat. But you suppose this will have to do. You finally step closer and tilt his neck up high, so you’re directly above him as you sneer down at him. “A little roughhousing never hurt. What do you think I should’ve done to him?”
Maybe he’s amused, or perhaps impressed, but Sylus laughs, a rich deep sound from the bottom of his throat. The way that sound rings through your ears, the way you enjoy it, pisses you off. You press a firm thumb against his lips to silence him, soft and pink under your touch.
Sylus’ gaze is a strange phenomenon. You only really know two proper emotions from this man: anger, and appeased. There’s always this cocky air to him, not an ounce of humility. So even when he’s staring up at you like this, it’s somehow just as powerful as him looking down on you. His chin is in your hand. You’re the one above him.
Yet, you can’t shake this strange sense of foreboding. You don’t know Sylus well enough to make much of him aside from his eccentricities, and him being a blatant heartless bastard. This sort of mystery, these missing puzzle pieces that create the shell of a man before you, make withstanding his presence feel like you’re subjecting yourself to a lone night in the wilderness with no gear, vulnerable to attack.
‘Do you hate me?’ Your mind flashes back, recalling him in ruby red robe and gimmicky cuffs. His scoff, the aversion of his eyes as he uttered ‘astounding misunderstanding’. He harbors no hate, yet, you can’t help but wonder if he likes you either.
“A little roughhousing, hm?” Sylus chuckles, and before you can even make space for him, he’s lifting from his seat and your hand falls slack to the side, default restored to craning your head up at this man. While you prefer looking from above, you’d be a liar if you tried to argue you hated him looking down at you. In theory, maybe, because you know he thinks everything is beneath him. But in practice, his lower angle is, unfortunately, just as attractive as his upper one.
“Wanna test that theory?”
And just as alarm bells start ringing, acknowledging the impending danger in those words, he’s crowding you back towards the couch. Not even aggressive, rather, a slow approach. A damn predator stalking his prey, and that’s somehow even more harrowing. Before you can slip from his icy gaze, the back of your knees catch against leather and his hand shoves you backwards, an inelegant yelp escaping your lips as you tumble back onto cushion. One leg crams between your own, his hand overlapping yours, pinning it to the backrest.
“Gh—Let go of me!” you gasp, strain your confined hand and lift an arm to shove him away. He snatches that one in the air with a scoff and pins both of your arms firm, hovering over you and face too damn close to think properly. Your heart thunders, somewhere between attracted and terrified. When he’s got you cornered, eyes gleaming in the warm ambiance of the room, the crimson in his gaze penetrates you. The creeping sensation of your soul being laid bare, infiltrated and consumed as he gauges your desires. Your lips quiver and quickly you shut your eyes, shaking your head vehemently.
“Don’t— I won’t let you use your-!”
“Pfft.” A humored breath leaves Sylus’ mouth. One of his hands lets yours free, and you feel those fingers decide to capture your face instead, stroke a large, soft thumb beneath your eye as he murmurs.
“You think I need that to figure out what you’re thinking right now, sweetie?”
Your ears tickle at that nickname, annoyed yet maybe a little… comforted? He uses it halfway between an insult and endearment, mostly the former, but occasionally the later. It’s condescending as hell, but shit, everything this man does is. You grit your teeth and slowly open your eyes to peer into his, and his own seem to twinkle in approval. No glowing, just a piercing red that carries a thousand secrets and the ability to strip your soul bare and destroy it from the inside out.
The color of spider lilies. You wonder how many people breathed their last breath in the midst of this gaze.
You exhale, free hand flexing as you silently debate pushing him away again. You feel small, pinned against the couch so easily. While most people would be no problem, Sylus seemed to love being the exception to every damn rule in the book. You don’t know what hole this powerhouse crawled out of, but being so soundly beaten by this man puts a bigger dent on your ego than you’re willing to admit.
“How long are you gonna stay like this?” You snap, jumping to your usual defense as you glare at him. He raises a brow, naturally, and the hand cradling your face sneaks down to press the pad of his thumb against your parted lips — warm breaths, his moist lips under your thumb as he watches you with eyes that make you lose all sense of reason. You lean down, fervently, and before you can even think, you bring your lips to his—
You try to banish the thought from your mind, let the dream rest, but it plagues you. Every damn look this man gives reminds you of his groans, the way his body is so responsive and trembles when you kiss at his chest and squeeze his cock.
He’s not—you’re not—his thumb swipes over your lips and your brow scrunches as you look him in the eye. He watches you like a puzzle itching to be solved, fingers dipping down to smooth over the front of your throat. Some embarrassing noise, what you’ll tell yourself was merely a sound of surprise, rumbles in your throat and you squirm, pulling your neck away. That man’s hand anywhere near your neck screams death and reminds you of the first time you were not so pleasantly held by it. You try to escape his touch but he stubbornly keeps his hand there, stroking it with a gaze you can only describe as ‘fascination’.
He watches your pulse, enthralled — and that look narrows into something else. Something you refuse to put a name to before his eyes flicker back up to yours. He chuckles, leans real close so his face takes up your entire field of vision.
“Scared, doll?”
Doll. Porcelain. Fragile. Easily manipulated and broken. You might just hate that nickname the most.
“Of—Of course I’m not,” you lie through the skin of your teeth, biting your lip to fight the strange foreboding welling in you. He’s stroking one of the most vulnerable areas of your body so gently and it fills you with a mix of apprehension and something very, very different.
“We can stop. You can ride home on that bike of yours. Word of warning, fuel’s low. Might break down on your way back,” He whispers, no, fucking purrs in your ear and holy shit, what the fuck. Your body trembles to that and of course he notices and snorts. There’s no way in hell, no way you’re gonna let this man press you against the couch and fucking terrify you one minute and arouse you the next. Hell, maybe you’re still both. The hand stroking your neck could easily crush it on its own, let alone Sylus’ evol.
Fuck, this isn’t—this wasn’t—
“You…!” You hiss, his hand goes from your neck to your collarbone, warm, big, and the feeling makes you shudder. You shake your head, almost in denial, and begin stammering.
“You’re a prick..!”
“Oh?” He hums, and the hand enveloping yours begins stroking the back of it
“And cruel. And heartless. And way too damn cocky, you really need to be humbled, and—“
You hear that gorgeous laugh right beside your ear as he leans down, face disappearing into your neck with strands of silk hair brushing your chin. Warm breath lingers, and you gulp but don’t let up.
“Someone really oughta put you in your place, knock you down a peg so you’re not so—mmm!” You can’t swallow down the gasp that leaves you when warm lips press against your pulse. His kisses trail along your neck, like a fire, and your body curls up as your free hand clings to his sweater. Fuck, feels good—and he’s nipping and sucking so sweetly you know it’ll for sure leave marks, that asshole.
“Such a noisy little kitten,” he chuckles, the noise makes you whimper and cling to him tighter, drag him to you. He pleasantly complies, presses his chest against yours and nudges his knee against your open thighs. His fingers sneak in your hair, pulling it back and exposing your neck completely so all you can do is weakly complain as he makes a perfect mess of your throat. Pays special attention to suck where it makes you sputter, soothing with gentle bites, his warm tongue.
“What are you, a vampire?” You hiss, quickly dissipating into a sigh when he knows just the right place to put his lips to make your body tremble. His breath, mouth, lips, so warm, so so warm, and then his kisses are trailing up to your jaw and—
His lips hover. So close and so perfect over yours. There’s a fire in his eyes, a heat that burns in them and makes your entire body feel alight. When you open your lips and they nearly brush his, you feel your face warm and quickly turn your head away to avoid his mouth, lips trembling. You can’t even look him in the eye, fidgeting with his shirt as you purse your lips. It’s not like it’s anything special. Really—but somehow a kiss to the lips feels more embarrassing, more intimate than anything else he could do in that moment.
He laughs at your avoidance, strokes your cheek and places a kiss right where his thumb was seconds ago.
“Aren’t you cute,” he teases, and you wanna glare and refute, but your words always catch in your throat when met with those striking eyes. He turns your head to him, his mouth quirks up, and he’s pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips. Too soft and too sweet for him. It’s so uncharacteristic you can’t even think properly. Foreign, unbeknownst, yet eerily familiar.
There’s no deeper meaning behind his smirk, his lips. He’s just teasing you, getting a rise out of you, yeah, because he’s Sylus and Sylus is an asshole, always. And of course this asshole is kissing your cheeks and your nose and your forehead and you don’t know what to do but quiver in his hold, breathless and mind blank. It feels almost akin to affection but you know the words Sylus and affection can’t exist in the same sentence.
“To think this is all it takes to make you compliant…” he murmurs in your ear, and before you can finally find the words to snap at him, his lips are firm against yours. Bold. Your neck strains against the backrest as he presses deeper and gently coaxes your lips open, warm tongue brushing against yours. He tastes refined, like the wine sitting on the table, and his scent envelops you as you feel him everywhere, hands on your face and your own, body against yours, mouth on yours and the smell of expensive ass cologne — bougie Dior or some shit. You sigh and pull him closer, bite at his lip and groan into his open mouth. He openly accepts, low rumble in his throat as he pushes right back, pauses for a moment of respite before sinking in again and kissing you breathless.
His fingers wander, rough, and release your hand to catch at the hem of your shirt and caress your trembling waist. He watches you, eyes reflecting an unspoken question. It almost infuriates you how pissed you would be if he stopped at this point. You scoff and avert your gaze, lips glued shut even as you cling to his shirt unrelentingly. You hear him laugh, low, and he slowly, achingly lifts your top up and over your shoulders, ensures you’re bare from the waist up in one fell swoop.
The slight chill makes you shudder, while Sylus’s hands take this time to roam your frame. Curl against your waist and thumb at your abdomen, which makes you tense and feel a sweet tingle run down your spine. The warmth in your core, the heat between your thighs bolsters when his lips catch at your collarbone, and kiss a path down to your chest. He’s gentle, a soft pressure and warm tongue as he drags a slew of kisses to your nipple — then he catches it in his teeth and you tense with a bitten back whimper, giving his shoulder a reprimanding push. He has a nasty habit of biting. He merely laughs and spends his time there a moment longer, sucking and holding you as your hips roll against nothing, aching. His fingers dig, as though to punish you for wanting so much so soon — like he wasn’t the reason for it in the first place.
There must be something about Sylus, something about him that just makes you lose your sense of reason. Somewhere between conscious and subconscious. Because it’s almost like a tiny part of your mind — no, even deeper, some fragment of your being buried deep and away, wants to push through and melt beneath him completely. And it’s the complete antithesis to the active part of you that wants to give him a hard time and wish eventual hell on him as retribution for his sins. It’s weird—wrong, and yet you cling to him like he might disappear into stardust if you let go.
“You want me that bad, sweetie?” He murmurs against your chest, shifts down to kiss right below your sternum, and you move your hand to tug on his silver strands in retaliation. A sharp breath leaves his nose, and watching his face scrunch, slightly twist with parted lips, you feel satisfied. He’s addicting, the way his eyes look up at you, the way his lips curl and the latent hunger in his eyes.
You’re sure he wants to devour you completely.
You fear you may like it.
He does everything with intent, a purpose. He doesn’t just touch you to feel, he touches to elicit something, to receive. You jumping into his hands as they cradle you at the pinch of your waist, you throwing your head back when he teases this sensitive bit of skin just above your waistband, some incoherent murmur when he kisses at your navel. He keeps his lips there, presses his thumbs just below and the sweet tingle makes you whine, your body tense as you try to avoid looking too desperate under him.
“Not enough, hunter? Need more?” His voice is deceptively sweet as he mouths above your waistband, dips his thumbs inside. You sigh — you don’t know if it’s from his lips or his voice, and turn your head away as he watches, amused. If he wanted a verbal response, he sure as hell wasn’t getting one. But you think he knew that already. He laughs, pops open the button of your jeans, and you lift your hips as he takes his agonizing time dragging them down.
“Such an eager thing,” he soothes, kissing your temple and not so shyly pressing a hand between your legs. You hiss and your needy hips jerk into his hand, while his deep voice speaks pleasantly into your ears. “What is it? Want my fingers? My mouth?“ His hand strokes, gentle, too damn light, and you’re shamelessly rolling your hips into his touch, dragging him by the shirt and holding him close as you get off with his hand, dizzy.
“Off. Take it off already,” you grumble against him, feeling some module of defeat, but your desire damn well overrides your pride at this point. You tug at his shirt, insistent, and he chuckles before complying and lifting it well and off.
Seeing his nude body shielded only in a towel once before doesn’t make the sight any less novel. Sure, dripping wet is a whole other thing, but just the thought of this man stripping for you and you alone at your request has your mind in shambles. You let out a solid stuttered breath, and immediately lean forward with your hands drawn to his chest, like a magnet.
Fuck he’s ripped, like a statue, feels stupid perfect under your touch. You hear what sounds like a quiet, breathy noise followed by a soundless laugh. You glance up to look at his face, a subtle amused pleasure and it immediately overlaps with the dream that inhabits your mind. You want — you need— your fingers trail down, and he shudders so beautifully, like a work of art, lips parted in a breathless moan. His sculpted abs tense and tremble under your touch and suddenly you wanna do anything, everything to him.
And before your fingers can dip lower, he’s shoving you back, pinning your wrist to the couch and capturing your lips silently. The noise that leaves you is almost as embarrassing as the way your body throbs so bad your mind grows hazy. Not fair. So not fucking fair. This kiss is deep, no, rather, a myriad of kisses over and over. Slow and steady to desperate and raw, always leaving you wondering which he’ll do next. He completely swallows any noises you could make, holds you in place so he can completely dominate. It’s stupid hot and you need him so goddamn bad. You know you’re an aching mess and there’s an embarrassing wet spot staining the underwear he left on you.
“So touchy. This how you tried to tame the horse in your dream, hmm?” He groans into your mouth, handsy all over. The more he kisses you and the more his fingers make you quiver, the more your mind goes blank.
“I-It’s—“ you try to speak, but his lips envelop yours to shut you up. One moment you’re melting against the couch, the second two strong hands hook around your thighs and you gasp as you’re hoisted in the air, automatically wrapping your legs around him to steady yourself.
You try to pull away in pure shock, grab your breath and comment, but his fingers dig into your scalp and hold you as he walks with both your mouths preoccupied. You pathetically rock into his body, seeking any form of stimulation you can manage, he can give. Instead of the bedroom like you expect, he steps back and impressively rummages through his bag on the circle table with one hand, before backing you against the large glass window. It’s cold, you wince and he thumbs your cheek to soothe.
“Sylus—I—“ you paw desperately at him, body trembling as your thoughts border on blank from the way this man kisses you and the way you flutter in response. He presses a soft lingering kiss to your lips before pulling away, watching you with dark eyes, that beautiful ruby leaving you speechless. You pant, heart thundering, and clench at his shoulders for purchase. “I’m… fuck…”
“You’re adorable when you’re like this…” He says, as though it’s a regular occurrence (you suppose it will be from now on.) You gulp and try to steady your breaths and heart that just might burst, and he’s settling you down gently. His thumb tugs at the waistband, hands dipping into your underwear and against your sensitive waist before pulling them down. You try to ignore the way you’re immediately dripping when they’re off. He takes a moment to openly admire you, eyes drinking in the sight of your swollen arousal. His thumb brushes just above and the proximity makes your breath catch in your throat.
“Like this, all for me.” It’s like a praise, and your eyes zero in on the transparent bottle in his hand. So that’s what he grabbed from his bag. He uncaps the bottle and douses his fingers without reserve — eyes flickering up to you. You fight the embarrassment his shameless gaze brings you. The anticipation that makes you throb. When he’s done, he places the bottle aside and leans down to press a light kiss to your lips.
“Relax, sweetie,” he murmurs, half teasing, half… sweet? Before you can think further on it, his hand’s already found its way between your legs and you brace yourself against the window. He bends to mouth at your neck, slow and sweet, while he swirls before pressing a thick digit in. With lube, it slips in smooth, though far thicker and deeper than you’re used to. You sigh as his other hand decides to join in and tease swollen flesh, soft strokes in time with the way he slowly teases his finger in and out.
“Sylus…” you hold yourself steady around his neck, quickly adjusting to the new pressure inside you as the strokes with his other hand ease you in. You rock into his touch, needy, and he meanly moves to pin your hips to the window instead, holding you in place while you whimper from the loss of his touch. For all that you want, Sylus only ever wants to give what he allows you to have.
“So greedy. Don’t you know you shouldn’t ask for too much at once? Lucky for you, I don’t mind indulging you every once in a while,” he chuckles — which is funny, he’ll indulge you any day of the week. Hell, pampers you even. But then he’s slipping in a second finger and your words are gone before they ever had a chance to formulate.
Your hips tingle as he drags them in and out, wet. He moves back to kiss your lips, goes at them again and again like he’s unable to get enough. Sylus is a kisser, you learn. Part of you always thought kissing was deliberately off the table for him. But the way his lips move, how damn sensual he is, and the perfect way he knows to suck on your lower lip is so good you can’t imagine him being anything else. His fingers curl deep inside and you whine, a jolt of pleasure running through your already burning body. Your body naturally rides his fingers, chasing that feeling, the way he can press against your walls so good. Makes you tremble in pleasure as he whispers quiet praises against your lips on how good you’re taking his fingers. They move and stretch, relaxing you, opening you up for him, and you can’t help but wonder how Sylus fucks as you’re hazy. Does he hold you down and pump into you mean and rough? Slow and sensual? Does he like to tease, to give, or to take? All three? Quiet whimpers leave your mouth and he’s adding a third finger the same time he goes back to stroking you.
You try to be good, to keep your hips nice and still for him. You want him firmer, harder, want to feel his touch burn on your skin for days and leave you dizzy at the mere thought. The dual sensation makes your legs tremble and it takes steadying your hands on his shoulders to keep from stumbling as he thrusts and pleasures your swollen flesh in tandem.
“Sylus… I’m… I’ll…” You try to warn him, wrapping your arms around his neck for support as you whine and quiver, his fingers insistent and hand skilled. He chuckles in your ear at your stumbled words, and fuck that makes you even more weak in the knees. The pleasure radiates from your hips all throughout, tingling, building so good and so quick. It almost surprises you how soon you’re desperately squeezing him and letting out quiet whispered noises as the build up finally overflows. Your body trembles, wrapped around him as you pulse around his fingers and against his hand, soothed by quiet praises while he strokes and finger-fucks you all throughout it, leaving you squirming when the feeling borders on unbearable.
He gives you reprieve, kisses your temple while you quiver in his grasp and try to steady your heart that’s thundering so hard you feel it in your throat.
“Knew you’d look just perfect like that,” he says, and you give him a weak squeeze in response. If you let go of his neck, you’re certain you’ll collapse on the spot.
Thankfully, Sylus, if anything, is perceptive. He wastes no time undoing his pants and moving his briefs just enough to release his eager erection, lined just with your abdomen. Naturally, you have to look, and shit. You figured he’d be something considering his damn size, but seeing it against your body makes you wonder if three fingers can even remotely compare. You tremble — maybe anticipation, maybe nerves, and comply when you’re lifted and pressed against the window so your jelly legs are given a break.
His lips mark up your neck beautifully — you can’t imagine what sorts of things you’ll need to wear to cover up the next week or two, and you subconsciously tense when you feel him slide himself between your legs, flesh sensitive and wet. His eyes lock onto yours, hot. Being so scrutinized when so helplessly at this man’s mercy makes your skin burn.
“Hm? What’s with that look? Want something?” Sylus meanly asks, and you hate the way your body responds to those words, throbs, and you watch him with a look of quiet, embarrassed defeat. Maybe you’ll have Sylus at your mercy one day, but today is not that day.
“Why are you so damn big…” you grumble, like you aren’t looking at him with heart eyes. That draws a throaty laugh from him and he leans close, lips settled right at the shell of your ear.
“So it can fit perfectly between those pretty legs of yours,” he says, and right then he uses a hand to steady his erection just where his fingers made you come undone, making you scoff and squeeze him tight.
“Perfectly isn’t how I’d describe your size in proportion to me,” you mumble. Perhaps feigning an attitude can help distract you from your nervous anticipation. Your body’s throbbing, begging, empty from his fingers and aching to be filled even after you just came.
“Really? Guess we’ll just have to see about that,” he whispers, light and teasing. In the same breath, you feel him slowly slide into you, arms supporting your legs as you sink onto his cock. You grip at him with a rushed moan, Sylus letting out a choked groan in response. You tremble, fight the urge to tense as you stretch around his size. Fuck — he’s so damn thick and fills you so much it aches. You whine and grasp at him with the effort to adjust, weakly murmuring curses.
“Dammit—shit, ah…” you choke and squeeze him close, burying one hand in his pale silver hair, and digging your shaky fingers into his shoulder. “S-Sylus…”
“That’s it, sweetie. Just like that. You can handle it,” he murmurs, tone so sweet for such mean actions as he pulls out and pushes in deeper, bottoming out. This position has you exactly where he needs you, makes you accept everything he has to offer. He’s so deep and you can feel him twitch inside, thick, an inferno, makes you sigh with each movement. He watches your face — this asshole, he likes seeing you whine — and let out a weak noise as he grinds, hips flush to you, before starting to thrust at a deep, slow pace. The warmth of his skin contradicts the coolness of the glass behind you, and you vaguely wonder how filthy your combined silhouettes must look in the distance.
It’s hard to explain the well of emotions inside you aside from pure lust. They blend together, a chunky, complicated mix of very degrees of pettiness, anger, mild fondness, and a deep-set longing you can’t pinpoint the origin of. Your body takes this longing and turns it into need, holding him to you, absorbing his warmth inside and out.
For a moment, you want to tilt your head and kiss him. You squeeze him harder instead.
You quiver around his length, each thrust accompanied by deep pleasure and a dull, pleasant ache. Sylus rewards your strain around his cock with his lips on yours, deep and devouring, stealing your already thin air. He guides you so easy, holds you up like it’s nothing while his steady thrusts slowly gain on speed. This position easily lets him slide against you in the perfect way that makes you cry out weakly, back arching. The pleasure is numbing and he brushes that area over and over, adamant on making you lose your sense of reason.
“Look at you. You handle me so well, sweetheart,” he speaks against your swollen lips like a dirty secret, panting against you as his thrusts hit the perfect spot every time. He handles your legs with ease and fucks into you harder, meaner, like he’s trying to bully these pathetic noises out of you. You whimper and claw at him, toes curling, feeling him swell as skin slaps against skin every time. His face is flush, eyes look at you like there’s no one else in the world — the only thing that exists is you a mess from his cock. His thrusts are as dizzying as his gaze you feel you can never escape, eyes half-lidded as he watches you take all of him. Your body’s a beacon of pleasure and your hips roll against his, rocking in time, wanting more, never enough.
“Please… please-fuck, Sylus… ngh…” You gasp, squeeze his hair tighter, and he fits his lips against your brow to murmur, “as you wish, sweetie.”
His hips are relentless, he stuffs you full of his cock every time and rolls his hips just the right way to make you sweetly numb, to fill you with that deep-set pleasure from within. His hair sticks to his brow, pants leave his body as his darkened eyes admire your sheen in sweat, rasping form. Fuck — he’s so — you need — he kisses at your neck and the sensitivity almost makes you sob.
“You’re shaking… you gonna come for me again all pretty?” Sylus breathes in your ear, you groan and clench him tight, making his hips sputter a moment. He smirks and picks back up his usual pace in response. You indeed feel your entire body quiver around him as the feeling grows more and more. Fuck you’ll — you — you can’t even say a word of warning as you’re suddenly letting out a choked sob, unable to control your tremors as you climax, body taut, tense. Sylus fucking you throughout only makes you whine and whimper as the feeling prolongs, white and hot. You’re so beautifully sensitive and rendered completely speechless, thoughtless. Sylus lets out quiet grunts all throughout, his own hips trembling, but pace unbroken.
Even when you come down Sylus doesn’t relent on his thrusts, he’s persistent if anything. At this point tears are pricking your eyes as you squeeze him tight, shame lost. “Please, please Sylus, fuck I can’t — please come,” you beg, sensitive, shaking, swollen, and Sylus laughs softly as his thrusts come in mean, hard, and fast.
“Mmm… How could I refuse such an earnest request?” He hums and holds you firm, his own forehead pressed against the window. It warms your ear and fogs the glass as his hips snap against yours, more erratic, your body bounced along with his rhythm and so damn sensitive you fight the urge to cry. Quiet grunts leave him, he’s more vocal, more open, and his large hands squeeze your thighs as he gasp and twitches. He buries deep and spills, releasing a pleasant groan right into your hot ear. He’s so close, feels so alive under your fingers and inside you, his heart an impossibly fast rhythm that puts yours to shame. You feel every throb, and you moan weakly as you’re held up, body swallowing every last drop. When he pulls out of your swollen hole, you feel the strength leave you and his cum drip down filthily.
“There you are, sweetie. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he soothes, and holds your weak body up with the same ease he had the first time despite the time elapsed. This kindness feels as wrong from him as it does right. When you weakly rest your head on his shoulder to look at him, his sweet eyes return the gaze, appeased. He carries your limp body to the couch and settles you down gently, swiping a thumb across your slick forehead. “You had quite the workout,” he comments. You glare and push his shoulder away, earning a chuckle.
“Aw, don’t pout.”
“Next time…” you hiss, holding a finger up to him. ‘Next time’ implying this will be regular. ‘Next time’ implying Sylus is not only the fearsome Onychinus leader you’ve been made to deal with, but is now a man you fuck (and something… more?) on top of it. “You’ll be the one at my mercy.”
Sylus blinks, tongue lax as he observes you in mild surprise.
Then, his face melts into a soft grin.
You’ve seen so many new expressions from Sylus today, it’s like you’re meeting him again for the first time. He grabs your hand and gently interlocks your fingers, watching you with a look you can only describe as ‘affectionate’.
It makes your face burn.
He adjusts his hand so he’s grasping your palm, and he drags yours to his lips, dropping a soft kiss on your fingertips.
