#darkdevoured

[dev1lsadvocate]

@darkdevoured

The haze of perfumed smoke curled around Mizora as she lounged against the edge of the satin-draped dais, flicking ash into the candlelit, watching the swirl of bodies before her. All around, limbs entwined in a tangle of heat and breath — at least a dozen of them — warm skin slick with desire, the musky scent of arousal thick in the air, punctuated by whispered gasps and the soft rustle of shifting silk. Every joint and sinew writhed in pleasure, yet in her own body only impatience thrived.

She exhaled another plume of smoke, eyes half‑lidded, scanning the tableau as if it were an ill‑conceived play. The tremor of thighs, the damp press of torsos, the promise in each heated sigh were undeniably intoxicating… But not enough to hold her attention.

Yes, the doe‑eyed brunette from earlier managed to follow instructions well enough. But it wasn’t her. Not by a long shot. Everything felt so half-hearted: the over-eager poses, the weak moans, the rhythm was all wrong. It lacked that fierce devotion Mizora craved — the tremor in each kiss, the shuddering whimpers that spoke of genuine desperation under her touch, the roaming hands eager to have her closer, no matter what.

She’d been indulging in dark‑haired, petite women more frequently these days, chasing that fleeting spark… Yet every time she settled for one of them, her thoughts slipped back to Aurelia. As if no one else could truly sate her hunger.

How utterly tedious. Mizora thought with a snarl. And how... Disconcerting.

The cambion stood up in a sharp, sudden motion, cutting through the haze of sweat and smoke. "That's enough," she snapped, voice like a whipcrack as she gave a loud, sharp, commanding clap of her hands. "Gather your clothes, darlings. We're finished."

Around her, the entangled limbs and flushed faces of the orgy untangled in confusion. A few blinked up at her, dazed and unsure, while others sat up abruptly, eyes wide.

"What? Finished?" one man stammered, breathless and still half-hard. "But—"

"If there’s something specific you want, mistress," purred a lithe tiefling woman, crawling closer on all fours, "you only need to tell us. We can adjust. We can please you. Just say the word."

"Yes," another chimed in, her voice desperate. "Whatever it is we’ll follow it. You only have to command."

But Mizora’s ruby gaze was distant, distracted, already leagues away from the pile of willing bodies and perfumed arousal. Her wings flicked once in irritation. For the first time she regretted using her infernal charm for personal indulgences.

“Sweet things,” she drawled, already walking off to open the door. “You could reenact the Nine Layers with perfect choreography and it still wouldn’t do the trick.”

With a languid flick of her wrist, she stubbed out her cigarette, tail flicking with bored annoyance as she held the door open. “Honestly,” she murmured under her breath, “I simply expected more from you.”

The sharp motion of her head that followed conveyed a clear message: Out. Now.

She didn’t even wait for them to scramble for their clothes. Let them fumble and gawk, she had more important things to tend to.

She grabbed her silken robe from the chaise, wrapping it around her as she made her way to her boudoir, plucking a fine quill and a piece of fresh parchment from her lacquered desk. Ink shimmered as she dipped the tip, and then began to write in a sweeping, perfect handwriting:

Dearest Aurelia,

I’ve secured new lodgings within the city, something with a bit more charm, a bit more height, and a rather breathtaking view of the ocean. You’ll find the sound of the waves quite soothing when one needs clarity… Or company.

I would be delighted if you visited. The place feels awfully spacious without a sharp tongue and clever mind to fill the air.

With anticipation, M.

She sealed it with a kiss of fire and her personal sigil, eyes narrowing fondly at the parchment as she retrieved a slender strand of fine copper wire from her vanity, twisting it between her fingers and murmuring the incantation for the Sending spell. Her eyes glowed briefly with infernal light as she whispered the message into the weave of magic. The words shimmered into the ether, racing across planes to find Aurelia’s mind.

"Let’s see if this pulls you in, little orchid."

[psychescape]

AAAAA HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRIEND. I hope it’s a fantastic day!!! 🩵🎉🎂🎈

aww snap, thank you! that's so kind of you — i am having a pretty great day, made better still by your msg!!! so i'm happy as a clam in fact 🙂‍↕️💞

[harpershigh]

"An odd question perhaps, but.." she pauses for just a moment, unsure on whether to proceed or not. Even if they'd grown significantly closer since first meeting, Hela feels highly uncomfortable being.. vulnerable. Even whilst trusting the other woman more than anyone else. "Will you watch over me tonight? After defying her at the cloister, I sense her lurking from every shadow. I can feel her rage and.. I need someone to wake me up if it gets too bad, or keep me down if she somehow influences me too much."

Jaheira's expression shifts the moment Hela speaks. Not with surprise, but with a quiet, simmering fury that has nothing to do with the woman before her. That same old fire she's carried since the Harpers, since the first time she watched a friend's soul twisted in the name of a god.

To watch over someone bound to the will of a god… It wasn't new to Jaheira. She had stood this very same guard before, over souls too tightly knotted to divinity, too steeped in prophecy to ever breathe freely. She remembered Lyra's haunted silence before the nightmares came. Imoen's desperate laughter, brittle as dry leaves, as she tried to pretend the visions weren't real. In the end, a god had claimed them long before death ever did.

And still, it never got easier.

Gods. They could be such arrogant, endless beings who acted as if devotion gave them ownership, who wore mortals like tools and crushed them when they broke.

Jaheira was no fool, and no heretic. She had walked the sacred groves, spoken prayers beneath ancient boughs, drawn her power from the wild divine. Mielikki. Silvanus. Names she had spoken with reverence.

But still, a dark thought nestled sharp in her heart.

What if, one day, even they decided to turn? What if the gods she trusted sought to bend her to some inscrutable will, just like Shar does with her faithful, or Bhaal does with his spawn? What would she do then?

The answer was a cold, fierce certainty in her chest: she'd burn down the whole damn pantheon before letting it twist her into something she didn't choose to be.

She moves closer, kneels beside Hela, and places a steady hand on her shoulder. "You don't even have to ask." She says, voice low, warm, but laced with a steely edge not aimed at Hela at all. "I've stood watch over many who were marked by power they never asked for. Over people tormented by things greater than they should've ever had to face." Her jaw tightens. "Shar might be powerful, but she is not infallible. And she is not entitled to you."

[aluvedobluth]

"there's a sense of naivety about you.. i like it."

Naïve? Naïve?? Oh, that was rich. She came from the Underdark, survived murder attempts since she was a baby, got mocked and humiliated by every family member that cared about her existence enough for it, failed Arach-Tinilith — and lived to tell the tale, mind you — and then clawed her way to the surface just to get treated like filth by every self-righteous bastard who thought they were better than her.

She scoffed, shaking her head with a sharp little laugh. "People hardly think that about a prostitute..." And yet, she still sank gracefully onto the seat beside Hela, eyes gleaming with curiosity. This one was strong. Powerful enough to keep Nyssala’s lovely little neck where it belonged. That was very interesting. Her lips curled into a slow, teasing smile. "Although..." she added, with a playful tilt of her head, "I can be naïve, if that’s what you’re into."

[griefgoddess]

@darkdevoured || CON.

WORSHIP . This was Shadowheart's deepest and darkest desire she kept hidden away from prying eye, and known to herself only. Maybe she craved the attention, the power, the concept of ruling the upper hand over another. It was exciting on the taste buds like the flavour of her favorite Amnian dessert wine.. Whatever this was, it was instilled perhaps in herself by the Mother Superior .. or even maybe, by Shar- may she embrace the entire world.

" Rather presumptuous, aren't you? I..don't answer to you. Though I know you crave to know all about me, judging by the inquiry in your prolonged stare, " The green eyed priestess taunted on her turn, as she put down her shield beside her tent, along with her mace, " However, my Lady allows me to plead ignorance.. I'm sure you're very well aware of Shar's code of secrecy. But since you asked nonetheless... your skill does not impress in the slightest. I'm sure I could've bludgeoned that drow with my mace,too. "

[emeraldruid]

@darkdevoured LIKED MY STARTER CALL.

“All I did was merely take a peak. Nothing more than a moment of morbid curiosity that needed to be sated.”

With any ounce of luck the woman would fail to question why he even plucked the book off of the shelf of the abandoned room they'd combed through. As the cover clearly betrayed the lustful nature of the pages inside.

“Might I aid you somehow?”

[mvstra]

"why should i believe anything you say? the mere idea of having worshipped you sounds absolutely ridiculous."

PLOTTED-ISH / @darkdevoured

"WHAT NEED HAVE I TO LIE? You were my champion once, certainly this is true.

But it is not as if I lack worshippers, followers, or wizards. I needn't go looking to Shar's cloisters to find one. I have no reason to seek you out specifically. Should I want the power of an Aasimar, I shall simply create one myself from one of my own. I have no need for something... tainted."

[dev1lsadvocate]

Mizora never imagined that having someone cling to her like this could feel so... comfortable. Cozy, even. The warmth of another body pressed close wasn’t just heat radiating from skin — it seeped into her, settled deep, curling around something inside her chest that she wasn’t sure had ever been touched before. And it wasn’t lust. Lust was familiar, predictable, a game she’d played and mastered long ago. But this? This was... Different. A newfound obsession? An addiction, perhaps? Some lingering effect of Wild Magic? Or the insidious influence of the Shadow Weave, weaving its tendrils through her mind? She couldn’t tell. But, hells, did she revel in it.

The cambion let out a pleased hum, her fingers threading through Hela’s hair, nails teasing along the delicate curve of her neck. "And what intentions are you hoping to develop tonight, hmm?" Her voice was velvet, dripping with amusement and something deeper, something more indulgent. Her tail curled around Hela’s thigh, slow and deliberate, the pressure just enough to claim, to hold. It slithered upward, unhurried but certain, brushing against the soft fabric of Hela's underwear, pressing just enough to tease.

Mizora’s fingers traced Hela’s jaw, featherlight, teasing, until they reached her lips. There, they lingered, brushing over them with aching delicacy. Her ruby eyes gleamed with wicked amusement, but there was something else beneath it — something... tender. "Would I like those intentions, I wonder?" she purred, her voice sultry, daring, inviting.

The devil's tail snaked forward, the sharp tip resting on Hela's groin while the smooth surface rubbed against her clit through the fabric, in a slow back-and-forth rhythm.

@dev1lsadvocate | cont. from here

A shiver that could not be suppressed ran down her spine at the cambion’s touch, wishing to melt into it but not daring to quite yet. Especially not when Mizora came closer, spoke like that.. in fact, it caused Hela’s breath to hitch and her body to automatically surge closer, tensing up just a little. A brow arched in reply to the clear mischief, her glare softening as her eyes instead flitted down to the other’s lips. So much for keeping one's intentions hidden. “Very good. Wouldn’t want anyone else to know that Shar’s big, bad aasimar enjoys to cuddle, hm?”

Hela moved in closer, finding herself at the crook of her lover’s neck where she placed a surprisingly gentle kiss, “Now stop it, or I may yet develop entirely different intentions with you for tonight.” Her arms tightened around the cambion, curling up against her just a little more, as if wanting to crawl inside of her. Nothing seemed close enough

[owestwind]

" are you going to tell me what happened to you tonight? "

“it’s not mine,”   lizzie deflects,   her body pliant as @darkdevour worries over the remnants of the evening,   seizing upon the dark flecks crusted into the sleeve of her dress,   its collar.   her skirt.    the thin sheen indiscernably written into the grooves of her hands,   beneath her nails,   as if etched in stone.   no,   in the most literal sense,   the blood does not belong to her,   but she can not shake a sickening sense of ownership.

she’s stopped at the base of the stairs,   the hand she hadn’t surrendered to vasya’s ministrations,   dusting along the bannister.   grounding,   as her eyes drifted to the cardinal pinpoint by which,   down the hall and sidled away behind the heavy doors of arrow house,   laid her sleeping children.   “when we first came here,   I must have spent half the night at their doors.   just,”   she breaths a laugh,   like a razor,   “making sure they were still there.   still alright.”   untouched,   as best as she could manage,   by the shadows they’d tracked in behind them.   

“there was a fight.   I’m not hurt.”   it’s a tone more curt,   heavy with an exhaustion that hides just as much as it consumes,   than she means.

[mahmur]

@darkdevour's vasya ( accepting! ) ∘ ∘ ∘ ❝ are you here to kill me? ❞

the kippered breaths of vasya's pursuers swell to clouds of ashes around them. perhaps the other did not necessarily need the intervention, however, it never hurt to get rid of a nuisance before it struck. her nerves are taut and she cannot take any detours. the path is set and there is no going around it.

so mi does not expect any gratitude, not when the situation is laden with tension, not when communication between them is blotted with wariness. ❝ no. ❞ there is a cleft so mi does not dare to jeopardise. whatever happened that caused this distance is not to be stretched any further. in the perpetuity of the smoke, she approaches v and levels her hand for the merc to grab. ❝ why? you think there is a reason for me to kill you? ❞

she considers it natural to have doubts about the operation and so mi's motives. to decide to go against her when it is more profitable for oneself. this is how it always was, how it always be. the insipid taste of trusting strangers ─ anybody, really ─ is as old as time.

[dev1lsadvocate]

@darkdevoured

Shadowheart leaned against the wood trunk, swirling her wine with a smirk. "You know, it’s almost impressive," she drawled, eyes flicking to Hela’s tail at a distance, as it gave an unintentional twitch. "She’s already not of much help, but now she’s got a built-in tripwire. How long do you think before she strangles herself with it?"

Astarion, lounging beside her, hummed in faux consideration. "Oh, I’d give it a week. Two, if she miraculously avoids getting it caught in a door. Though, really, the odds of her tripping over it and plummeting off a cliff are much higher." He paused, casting a glance at Hela's direction, then added with a grin, "Honestly, I’m almost rooting for it. Imagine — betrayal by her own tail. The irony! Delicious."

Shadowheart snorted. "I’d almost feel bad."

Astarion lets out a laugh. "I wouldn’t."

The air crackled in a spark of arcane static, as reality itself hiccupped around Mizora. A ripple of raw, untamed magic seemed to surge from nowhere and everywhere at once, twisting the weave. The temperature shifted, light bent at odd angles, and for the briefest moment, everything smelled faintly of burnt sugar and ozone.

Then the magic snapped back into place, and where two insufferable adventurers once stood, there were now two very confused, very furry little rodents. Mizora let out a slow, delighted chuckle, watching tiny whiskers twitch in disbelief. Oh, this was too good.

Mizora clasped her hands together, feigning the most insincere gasp of shock as the two tiny, furious rats squeaked indignantly at her feet. "Oh, dear me," she drawled, crouching down with a wicked grin. "Did I do that? My, my, such a careless little slip of magic. Who knew your bodies were so eager to match your personalities?"

Astarion, now an irate little white rat, bared his tiny teeth. Shadowheart, dark-furred and fuming, twitched her whiskers in pure rage.

"Oh, come now, no need to be ratty about it." Mizora reached out and flicked Astarion’s tail, snickering as he scrambled away with an offended chitter. She sighed dramatically, standing tall. "I suppose I could fix it... Eventually. Until then, darlings, do try not to strangle yourselves with those adorable little tails… Or even plummet off a cliff. Tragic, truly. I'd be devastated." Mizora smirked, absolutely unconvincing in her feigned concern, before turning on her heel and sauntering toward Hela with the satisfaction of a job well done.

[fractempyreal]

📏 5'9 😔

Send me 📏 (ruler) + your muses height and I'll compare them to mine! @darkdevour

❛ It's no wonder your anger always seems to boil over so easily . ❜

[diam1nd]

" lizzies is my second home, @darkdevour. she's showed me compassion where, let's be honest no one else has." women supporting women was a vice to live by. emma, who was her own beast of a netrunner, took reigns of the late alt cunningham in her own fashion. " anyone who walks in here giving any of these ladies a problem, will have their mind wiped before their next breath." it was almost superhuman, the innate ability to dive into ones mind and rip the circuits in a painful scramble. enhancements or not, she was able to break that mental barrier. " i know right, i'm too beautiful to be a cyberpsycho. or.. maybe i'm not. lets grab a drink." there's a few special copies of her own braindance in a vault for those who can afford it, not that she was one to judge it made emma's ego swell from seeing the satisfaction from those who snagged it. / sc. ♡

[aluvedobluth]

"so, what do you truly want?"

"To be rich, famous, and adored by everyone! And anyone who doesn't adore me can go cry about it like the envious little bitches they are!" Nyssala blurted it out without a second thought, as usual — because when did she ever think before speaking?

Then she blinked. Reality smacked her across the face like a cold fish. "Or... uh... well, getting rid of my debts would be fantastic, too."

[dev1lsadvocate]

The corridors of Blackstaff Tower carried a peculiar scent — aged parchment, burnt incense, and the faint crackle of ozone left behind by freshly cast spells. Mizora moved through them like a sharpened shadow, the click of her boots barely audible against the cold marble floor. Ah, the little perks that came with this mortal… Aurelia. Always buried in some arcane experiment, always a step ahead of the rest. A prodigy, they said. But truth be told, Aurelia wasn’t just talented. She was a genius.

And a genius, with the right guidance, could be a gift for someone with the right vision.

Mizora savoured the thought like a fine vintage. Mystra’s favourite one, bound to a devil by contract. All that divine power, that cosmic knowledge, funneled through the greedy hands of a fiend.

Oh, how delicious it would be.

Of course, power was never enough — not in the Hells, not in the Material Plane, not anywhere that mattered. Still, Mizora's interest in Aurelia went beyond mere potential. Of course, to have a prodigy like her under her thumb would be a good leverage against other fiends, a card to play when the great game inevitably shifted. But more than that, it was an excuse — an escape. The less time she spent in Avernus, the better. Let Zariel rage, let the war machine grind on without her. Mizora had no intention of wasting eternity as a cog in someone else's crusade. No, she'd carve her own domain from the bones of this plane if she had to. The Hells could rot for all she cared — she had better plans.

And right now, trying to wrangle a bargain out of Mystra’s maybe-someday-chosen was the perfect excuse for Mizora. Never mind that Aurelia wasn’t technically chosen yet — but really, who cared about minor details like that? Technicalities had never stopped the devil before.

Mizora stopped right before Aurelia’s dormitory room, raising her hand and knocking at her door — once, twice. Silence. She raised her hand once more, but before she could knock again...

Oh, now that was interesting.

The muffled sound of her name, breathed in Aurelia’s voice, soft, intimate.

A spark of wicked amusement danced in her human desguise's too-blue eyes. Oh, how utterly delightful. With a whispered word and a flick of her fingers, the lock clicked open, the door swinging inward with the barest creak.

And there she was.

Aurelia lay sprawled across her bed, underdressed and unaware of the devil now standing in her doorway. The sheets pooled around her, her raven hair a halo of chaos against the pillow. There was something mesmerizing about the way her lips parted, the faintest flush dusting her cheeks — beautiful, powerful, and so very, very lost in her own pleasure.

Mizora tilted her head, drinking in the sight with a slow, savouring gaze. Not just a prodigy. Not just a future weapon in her arsenal. Aurelia was exquisite. And she had whispered her name while touching herself.

Oh, what a delicious little game this would be.

The cambion stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. A flick of her fingers, and the lock turned — a little insurance against interruptions.

She strode across the room and lowered herself into the vanity's seat with all the casual arrogance of someone who belonged anywhere they pleased, crossing one leg over the other.

And still, Aurelia hadn’t noticed.

How utterly fascinating.

Admittedly, Mizora had been plotting ways to weave herself deeper into Aurelia’s trust. The girl was brilliant, cautious, and frustratingly guarded. So this was a gift. An unexpected, delicious little thread of leverage, practically begging to be pulled.

And yet…

Mizora felt something coil tight and low in her belly. The sight of flushed skin, of parted lips murmuring her name, of that brilliant mind lost in its own while her fingers worked through her body, seeking so desperately for release... It sent a slow, simmering heat through her veins. How amusing. She had come here hunting for an advantage, and yet her own body stirred like a struck chord, resonating with something... instinctual.

Aurelia's voice grew louder, her whole body quivering in what was very obviously her climax. For a moment, Mizora herself got lost in the way that voice moans her name — soft, reverent, wanting.

Focus. She needed to focus! She had an opportunity, blackmail material. And Mizora was nothing if not an opportunist. There was no time to get lost in frivolous mortal indulgenc—

Aurelia’s startled voice shattered Mizora’s reverie. What was that? Something about knocking? Oh. Knocking, yes.

Mizora schooled her features in an instant, smoothing away any trace of the momentary stupor that had dared to cross her face.

"I did knock," she purred, tilting her head slightly, studying Aurelia with a smirk. "But you seemed so... focused. I doubt you even heard."

Despite the amusement in her voice, her gaze betrayed her. It was hungry, shameless in the way it raked over flushed skin, disheveled hair, the way fabric clung to the curves of Aurelia’s body. Hells, she was devouring her with her eyes.

"I never meant to interrupt," she murmured, voice dropping to something just shy of reverent. Then, almost without thinking, the words slipped past her lips, too honest for her liking. "And I must say it was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen."

Why... Why was her heart hammering? Where did this heat in her cheeks came from? She was a devil. She did not get flustered. She was the one who did the flustering. And yet... The sincerity in her own voice startled her. In normal circumstances, she'd make a jab, a mocking remark about the 'decency' Aurelia mentioned, but instead, the cambion only could think about how much she wanted to see it again...

Mizora cleared her throat — what in the Nine Hells was that? — and quickly smothered the sincerity beneath a wicked grin, twisting the moment back into something she could control.

She leaned back slightly, rocking lazily in the chair. "Oh, but don't stop on my account, darling," she purred, voice rich and honeyed, laced with sinful delight. "If anything, I could even offer you a little... encouragement."

With agonizing slowness, she reached for the delicate straps of her dress, fingers tracing the fabric as if savouring the anticipation. A slight shift of her shoulders, a teasing roll of her hips against the seat, and the silken material slid down, pooling at her waist, revealing the smooth expanse of her peach-colored skin, a shade so rich and deep it looked almost decadent, the softness of her now bare breasts like the ripest fruit just begging to be bitten into.

"Well?" she murmured, voice barely above a breath. "Shall we put that beautiful voice of yours to proper use? Unless, of course, you have other plans..."

@dev1lsadvocate | plotted starter

Just a.. simple fixation, that’s all. And fixations can be overcome by other fixations, right? That’s what Aurelia kept in mind as she desperately tried to keep a certain devil off of her mind, and attempted to fixate on.. what was this book about again?

Aurelia let out a frustrated sigh, putting the book back where it came from as this clearly wasn’t going to work. Of course she’d heard the stories about devils.. their temptations and double-twisted words that could lure anyone into their contracts. And by the gods, did Mizora tempt her. Aurelia can’t lie about the fact that.. she considered it, wondering how it would feel to have magic from different sources and whether she could combine them. However, she eventually ended up regaining her senses. And even if she hadn’t.. Mystra ensured she would. Even if only twenty-one, people knew she would eventually become a chosen with the way she mastered the weave, pushed beyond boundaries and dedicated herself wholly. So, to have a future chosen tied to a devil? Impossible.

She had felt Mystra’s disapproval ever since meeting Mizora little over a year ago, and it only heightened when said meetings didn’t stop. But really, Aurelia wasn’t doing anything against the rules.. it was all just… research. An in-depth research about devils. It’s all.. good. She didn’t make a deal, and that’s what Mystra wanted to prevent, so. She’s playing by the book, technically. And it’s not like they’d do anything beyond civilised conversations, obviously.

That’s also what she thought to herself as she laid there, in bed, with a hand sneaking between her legs whilst conjuring up images of her favourite cambion. Just a little fantasising couldn’t hurt anything, right? A soft gasp escaped her as her fingers found already soaked folds, not that it should surprise her. She’d been worked up for too long now, too stubborn to give in before now. In truth, she’d never truly cared about this or sex before.. her. In fact, she’s never been with anyone simply because no one’s interesting enough to her. But by the gods, if Mizora wasn’t some kind of.. exception.

Her eyes fell shut as she immersed herself in the mental images she masterfully crafted, her free hand coming up squeeze her breast, thumbing her nipple as her hips gently rocked against her own fingers that circled her clit. It didn’t take long before she accidentally moaned the cambion’s name, followed by an overpowering wave of disapproval washing over her.. surprisingly enough, her body reacted with almost painful spikes of pleasure and arousal, back arching as she could feel herself grow impossibly slick. Oh, that is.. interesting. She’d firmly deny moaning “Mizora” louder to see if she’d get another wave of disapproval.. which she indeed got. Along with the intense pleasure following. She dedicates herself to Mystra and her studies entirely, but she will not have this.

So really, it was no surprise that she quickly hurtled towards an orgasm.. finally allowing herself to indulge in her fantasy, finding pleasure in disapproval from the one being she should definitely seek approval in.. Aurelia surprised herself when she came with a loud moan, a certain name on her lips. What surprised her even more was that she didn’t even feel satisfied, she was still left thirsting for more.. until she opened her eyes and saw the devil she just thought about, whose name she just moaned, standing right there. “Oh, fucking hells, Mizora! Why.. how..” Her mind clearly a mess as she quickly sat up, blanket thrown around herself as if she hadn’t just seen everything already. Her chest, neck and entire face would surely be near crimson red with the embarrassment she felt. Aurelia couldn’t look at Mizora, leaning her head against her pulled up knees to hide her face. “You may not be a mortal, but does knocking as a form of decency not exist at all for you?” As she questioned Mizora, her sanity dared question herself for not sending the cambion away then and there.. her answer? Well, she didn’t have one. All she knew is that Mizora would use this to tease her for years to come, possibly till she dies and maybe even after that..

[qu1nln]

✶ – @darkdevour get's a starter !

❛   v ?!  ❜ the overwhelming shock does not go unnoticed in bryce's tone at the recognition of the person before her. many faces , from vast walks of life found themselves in the meat market. some albeit less shy than others. but seeing not just someone she knew within the dark , gloomy streets but someone she had seen as a best friend is what halts bryce into a standstill. only hunt's near miss into bumping into her backside is what tells the redhead that she had stopped midwalk. ❛   holy shit . . .   ❜