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The mazoku wraps his arms around you, and nuzzles his face against your cheek. His body is a lie. His warmth is a lie. A thin veneer over the whirling truth of his monstrous form. You love the truth as much as the lie, but you can’t deny that the warmth is comforting. The way he purrs in your ear and strokes your hair.
You hope that the things that he promises you are not the same kind of lie as his handsome form, but you can’t know. He opens his striking violet eyes and stares into yours. You fall.
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