#they have to flow into the other they have to tell a STORY

[joemama-2]

┊ ❛ ❛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 ❜ ❜ ┊

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: as an ambitious journalist, you’re determined to keep your cool while interviewing Gojo Satoru, the entertainment world’s most magnetic star. but his playful smirks and flirtatious banter make it impossible to ignore the spark simmering between you. when he leans in and invites you to his private room, you tell yourself it’s all part of the job—until the dressing room door closes, and the air grows heavy with unspoken possibilities. his touch is casual but lingers just long enough to make your pulse race, and his whispered promises are as intoxicating as the man himself. tonight, you’ll learn there’s a difference between getting the story and being part of it.

wc: 9.9k

tags/warnings: smut, slight praise, vaginal penetration, pussy eating, cursing, missionary, nipple sucking

Tonight’s a night of luxury, fine wine, expensive clothing, flashes, kisses being shared, awards handed out, and best of all…the interviews. 

You’re up and coming, still considered a newbie in the world of journalism even though you have been doing this for almost a year now. But compared to your other counterparts who have years of experience, you understand why. A bright, young face with a compelling aura that just draws people in. Every celebrity you’ve met has come up to you afterward to just rave on about how nice it was talking to you, how authentic it felt. And that’s what you aim for all the time. 

At the end of the day, these are real people and a lot of the media seems to forget that. When you’re interviewing them, you don’t want it to seem like a forced meet-up with an intrusive journalist. No, you want it to be like they’re talking to a friend. You want things to just flow smoothly—naturally. You’ve even exchanged numbers with a few of them, waving and delivering a small hug as they pass you on the red carpet to pose for pictures. 

It’s a strategy that’s worked wonders for you, and tonight, you’re counting on it to carry you through what might be the biggest interview of your career. Gojo Satoru, the golden boy of the entertainment industry, is notoriously hard to pin down—charming one moment, evasive the next. The man oozes confidence, with his piercing blue eyes and a devil-may-care attitude that has the world wrapped around his finger. A brilliant actor, dancer, and singer. A literal triple threat. The man is good at everything he does. And he looks damn good while doing it. 

Your editor’s words echo in your head as you adjust your press badge: “Get something different. Something memorable. Everyone’s heard the same old answers from him.” Easier said than done when the man is practically untouchable, his responses carefully curated to keep people guessing. You would’ve assumed his media training would be on point, considering he’s been a household name since he was just an infant. 

A true nepo baby. 

There’s a microphone in hand, your camera man, Ito, stood beside you. You glance at him, having to lean in slightly over the buzz of other chatter, photographers telling whatever celebrity to move right or left, other interviews being conducted, the whole sha-bang. “You ready for this?”

The younger man nods with a goofy smile and throws a thumbs-up. “You know it.”

“Remember, get my good side.”

“Every side is your good side, Ms. Y/N.”

You wave him off and swivel your head back around. Titling it as you lift up on your tip-toes for any sign of the snowy haired man. Nope, not here yet. You sigh and drop back down to normal height, anxiously twirling the microphone in your hand. You’re wearing a simple, but elegant black dress. Silk with no sleeves and the back is cut out—still modest enough to now outshine the real important people of tonight. You’ve paired it with gold jewelry, your hair down and tamed, with tiny black heels. Fine makeup with a red lip to top it off. 

“He’s not here yet. Let me guess,” you murmur to Ito, keeping your voice low. “He’s going to be late, sweep in like he owns the place, and flash that million-dollar smile that makes everyone forget they’ve been waiting.”  

Ito snorts, adjusting the camera. “You mean the Gojo Satoru trademark entrance? Yeah, sounds about right. At least he’s consistent.”  

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of nerves in your chest. You always get nervous but this time, it feels a little extra. He may not even stop for you, don’t get your hopes up.

Gojo’s reputation precedes him, and while you pride yourself on keeping your cool, you’re not immune to his charm. The last thing you need is to fall into the same trap as every other reporter who’s walked away from an interview with stars in their eyes and nothing of substance to show for it. 

Scanning the area, you catch sight of a commotion near the entrance, the buzz growing louder. And then you see him.  

He’s impossible to miss, standing tall and radiant in a custom black suit that hugs him in all the right places, his albino hair tousled just enough to look effortless. His sunglasses—because of course he’s wearing sunglasses to a fancy event—sit perched on the bridge of his nose, only barely hiding those infamous blue eyes. He’s laughing at something someone said, his presence magnetic enough to pull all attention his way without even trying. His manager, Nanami Kento, walks with him. Occasionally muttering something in Satoru’s ear with his certified stony expression. 

“Showtime,” Ito mutters, lifting the camera.  

You take a deep breath, straightening your posture. You got this, you got this. He’s not the only charming one. Plastering a big, warm smile. You begin your stride over, hellbent on capturing his attention. 

He and his manager are walking down the carpet, already ignoring the reporters that call out his name like he’s some sort of god. Satoru occasionally smiles for a few of the cameras as most of the other actors are silently making room for him on the red carpet. Once he’s done with his pictures, he’s heading inside the venue. Then you’ll lose your chance. So, you have to catch him before he does. 

You quicken your pace, moving with purpose. Weaving through the small crowd as Ito is practically stumbling over his feet to follow you. Chin tilting up and raising your voice loud enough so he can hear. “Gojo Satoru, a quick word, please,” you call out, your voice carrying through the crowd, smooth and confident despite the flutter of nerves in your chest.

And as if on cue, Gojo’s head turns ever so slightly in your direction. That was quick. Maybe it’s the fact that you reiterated your call out to him as more of a statement than an annoying plea. You don’t hesitate, smiling and judging Ito to begin filming. You can already see the glint of his pearly whites, the blue twinkle in his pearly eyes that makes women and men alike swoon. He lifts his glasses down slightly like he’s getting a better look at you. His manager is tugging a bit on his elbow to keep him moving, but he simply yanks it out his hold and strides over to you with that trademark grin. As he makes his way toward you, every step exuding confidence, you remind yourself of your goal: keep it professional, keep it memorable, and don’t let him get under your skin.  

Some of the other journalists must think they finally have their shot with him, only for their hopes and dreams to be shattered when he approaches you instead. You shuffle closer to him, sparing a quick glance at the camera to ensure it’s rolling before craning your neck up at the man himself. 

“Gojo Satoru,” you greet him, flashing your most practiced smile as he stops in front of you. “Thank you very much for taking the time to chat. How’s your night so far?”  

He tilts his head, the lopsided smile on his face nothing short of mischievous. “Even better now,” he says smoothly, his voice low enough to make your stomach flip.  

Oh, he’s good, you think, your grip tightening on the microphone. But so are you. So, this is how it’s going to be. Fine. You can play that game too. 

You force yourself to focus, keeping the conversation light and breezy despite the electric charge in the air between you. “Glad to hear that. I’m sure you’re used to all the attention by now, but do you ever get nervous before big events like this?” you ask, leaning in slightly as if you’re just two people having a casual chat.

He chuckles, a sound that almost feels too intimate for the public space you’re standing in. “I thrive on it,” Gojo replies, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze both teasing and intense. “You know, it’s all part of the game. The bigger the crowd, the more I shine.”

You smile, impressed by his confidence but careful not to let it throw you off your rhythm. “And yet, you still manage to make it look effortless.” You tilt your head slightly, playing along, knowing how easily the conversation could turn into one of those meaningless exchanges. “Is there anything you don’t do effortlessly?”

His lips quirk upwards, that signature grin spreading across his face. “Maybe one thing,” he says, his tone dipping lower, sending a shiver through you. He pauses, his eyes scanning you briefly before locking back onto yours. “But I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

The air between you two thickens, the words laced with double meaning. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but you refuse to let it show. He’s toying with you, but this is your interview, and you’re not about to let him steal the spotlight. Not just yet.

Clearing your throat, you switch the topic. “So, you’re being nominated Best Actor for your show ‘Jujutsu Kaisen’.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the direction you’ve taken. “I wouldn’t say ‘nominated,’” he teases, his eyes sparkling with that signature arrogance. “I’m going to win, obviously. But it’s nice to be recognized by the industry.”

You nod, the banter light, but the tension lingering in the air between you two keeps your mind spinning. You can’t help but wonder if he’s as confident off-screen as he is in front of the cameras. Before you can ask him to elaborate on his confidence, Gojo steps closer, his proximity sending a wave of warmth through you. “So you believe you’ll win this award, no doubt?”

“No doubt.”

“That’s very confident of you.” You chuckle. 

Gojo’s lips curl into a smile, his blue eyes never leaving yours as if he’s savoring the moment. “Confidence is key but also very underrated,” he replies, his tone playful but with an edge of something more intense. He leans in just slightly, enough that you can smell the subtle cologne he’s wearing, clean and fresh with a hint of spice. “Besides,” he adds, his voice dropping lower, “when you’re as good as I am, it’s hard not to be confident. And I mean, a lot of people are too afraid to show they know what they’re capable of. But me? I’ve got nothing to hide. I know exactly what I bring to the table.”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to let your smile slip into something more flirtatious. But his words have an effect—something in you shifts, intrigued and undeniably drawn to his arrogance. "So, you don’t think anyone’s competition?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, testing the waters.

Gojo's lips curve tighter into a knowing smile, a flash of teasing flickering in his eyes. "Competition?" he echoes, his voice thick with challenge. "There’s no competition when you’re in a league of your own.”

You swallow, trying to maintain your composure despite the growing heat between you. “I can see that,” you respond, your voice just a little steadier than you feel. “But what’s your secret? How do you manage to stay so… sure of yourself?”

Gojo chuckles, the sound smooth and low, as he runs a hand through his messy white hair. He looks around briefly, as though assessing the situation, before his eyes lock back onto yours. “It’s not about being sure of myself,” he says with a tilt to his tone, his words carrying an underlying promise. “It’s about knowing I can make anything work. Whether it’s acting, dancing, or…” He trails off, his gaze flickering briefly down your figure before snapping back to your eyes. He chuckles charmingly.  

The moment hangs between you two, the air crackling with an undeniable charge. You feel your pulse quicken, but you force yourself to stay focused on the interview. “Well, I’m sure a lot of people would love to know how you make it all look so effortless,” you respond, keeping your voice neutral. “Any advice for those of us who aren’t quite as… naturally gifted?”

Gojo’s grin widens, and for a brief second, you swear you can see a flicker of something more in his eyes. “It’s not just about talent,” he says, leaning in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate level. “It’s about owning the moment, owning the space you’re in. You have to make people believe in you, even if you don’t always believe in yourself.” His intonation is almost hypnotic, and you can feel the pull of his words.

Your breath catches, but you can’t let him see how he’s affecting you. “Sounds like a lot of pressure,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation light. “How do you handle all that weight?”

Gojo’s expression shifts, his playful grin faltering for just a second, his presence overwhelming. “Pressure’s nothing,” he says, his eyes scanning your face with an intensity that makes your skin tingle. “If you’re not feeling it, you’re not doing it right.”

Before you can respond, the sound of a camera shutter clicks in the background, reminding you of the reality of the situation. You’re still in the middle of a crowded red carpet, surrounded by flashing lights and the buzz of other reporters. But somehow, standing so close to him, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the world.

His eyes soften for a moment, like he’s sensing the shift in the air between you. “But hey,” he adds, his tone playful again as he steps back slightly, breaking the moment, “don’t worry. I’ll make sure to win this award for the both of us. Maybe then you can interview me again… under better circumstances.”

You smile, lightly huffing a small chortle as Ito lowers the camera and stops rolling. Nanami begins tugging on Satoru’s sleeve again, attempting to urge the man to walk forward. But Satoru doesn’t budge, leaning down close to your ear. The suddenness causes you to gasp a little, body tensing before leaning closer to hear what he has to say. 

“I have a room nearby. Take a left at the end of the carpet, then a right past the VIP lounge, can’t miss it. If you want, I’d be glad to answer more of your questions once I have my award.”

He’s pulling back and looking away, strutting down the carpet before you can even process what just happened. Eyes wide and lips parted, you slowly look over at Ito who gives you an equally baffled expression. “That was…something. I felt the tension even behind the camera.”

You shake your head and regain your bearings, hitting his arm. He dramatically lets out a huff and rubs the spot. “Don’t be stupid, that’s just how he is.”

“Well, yeah. But it seemed extra with you.”

Your lips purse, eyes flickering over to where an enormous space has been made for the man himself to pose for every single camera aimed at him in every pose possible. If you didn’t find him attractive, you would’ve been annoyed by his arrogance—his cockiness. But maybe that’s what you like about him, in some weird way. At least he has the looks to go with his loud personality. “Are you gonna…go?” Ino asks. 

You hesitate, unsure of whether yes or no would be the most appropriate answer in this case. Hell, that entire little thing seemed the exact opposite of appropriate. You remind yourself that that’s just how he is. However, you still haven’t gotten a good enough word from him and that tiny, maybe two minute interview will no doubt be overlooked from your boss. 

Something different, something more. 

And so that’s how you’ve landed yourself in this precarious situation in the first place. It’s late—around twelve in the morning. And this supposed ‘meet-up’ feels more like a booty call than anything else. You won’t voice that thought aloud, of course. He’s sitting on the cuck chair in the corner of his…dressing room? It feels more like a five star hotel room. You’ve taken purchase on the edge of the bed inside, hands tucked into your lap. You’ve opted out of the dress you wore for the event, landing on a simple tee and jeans. Your recorder beside you, with your notebook and pen placed underneath your hands. 

He’s just been eating. 

Eating carelessly. 

It’s already been close to twenty minutes and you don’t know when you should bring up the whole reason you’re even here for. After a few more grueling seconds, the air having been filled with his loud chewing far longer than you have patience for. You clear your throat. “Um…Mr. Gojo? Do you mind if we—”

“Have you ever had Mediterranean food?” He cuts you off, jabbing his white plastic fork in your direction. 

Your eyes flick to the fork in his hand, then back to his face. The man looks completely unbothered, leaning back in his chair as though he has all the time in the world. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, crossed casually at the ankles, and his tie is now undone, the top buttons of his shirt popped open. He’s the picture of relaxed arrogance, and it’s both infuriating and—annoyingly—endearing.  

“Uh, yeah,” you say hesitantly, thrown off by the abrupt change in topic. “Once or twice.”  

He hums, jabbing his fork into another piece of grilled chicken and popping it into his mouth. “Then you’re missing out. There’s this place down the street? Incredible. You’ve gotta try it. I’ll have them send some up next time you’re around.”  

You blink at him, unsure how to respond. Is he really talking about food right now? After inviting you here in the middle of the night and keeping you waiting for nearly half an hour while he scarfs down a late-night feast? And is he trying to hint at another rendezvous? Yeah fucking right. Your fingers tighten slightly around your notebook, the patience you’ve been clinging to starting to wear thin. “Right,” you try again, keeping your voice steady, “I appreciate the recommendation, but I was hoping we could get back to the interview. So may we—”

“But you get it, right?” he says, leaning back in the chair, his legs spread out wider, his posture entirely too relaxed for someone in the middle of an impromptu midnight interview. “It’s addictive. This hummus? Unreal. Whoever catered tonight deserves an award more than I do.”

You thin your lips, unsure whether to laugh or remind him why you’re actually here. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you say diplomatically, gesturing to the plate in his hand. “But I was hoping we could, you know, get started?”

Gojo hums thoughtfully, scooping up another bite with his fork. “You’re right,” he concedes, though the mischievous glint in his eyes suggests otherwise. “But here’s the thing—you can’t do an interview on an empty stomach. Or when the food’s this good.”

You sigh, biting back a retort as he takes another slow, deliberate bite, chewing like he has all the time in the world. “Mr. Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he corrects, grinning as he sets the plate down on the small table beside him. He wipes his hands on a napkin and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he meets your gaze. “We’re not on the red carpet anymore. Call me Satoru.” 

His sudden shift in demeanor catches you off guard, the playful air taking on a more serious edge. You glance at your recorder, then back at him, your pulse quickening. “Alright, Satoru,” you say carefully, your fingers tightening around your pen. “Let’s make this count.”

He smirks, tilting his head slightly as if daring you to keep up. “Oh, don’t worry,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “I always do.”

You nod and fumble for a moment before flipping open your notebook. “Ah, well, I was hoping to dive a little deeper into your creative process—how you approach roles and what inspires you.”  

Gojo leans back again, the smirk never leaving his face. “My creative process, huh? That’s such a professional way of asking how I make the magic happen.” He chuckles, his gaze flicking over you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. “But I’ll bite. It all starts with... you.”  

You freeze, brows furrowing. You don’t know if he’s teasing you or if he’s just being his usual cocky self. “Me?” you manage to say, trying to keep your composure.  

“Not you specifically,” he clarifies, though the playful glint in his eyes suggests otherwise. “But someone like you. Someone intriguing, who makes me want to figure out what makes them tick. That’s where I find inspiration.”  

The air in the room shifts, the casual atmosphere taking on a sharper edge. You’re getting a little annoyed at the fact that he’s answering the question but also trying to throw you off balance. Either way, you’re determined not to let him see you lose composure.  

“That’s interesting,” you respond, forcing a smile as you jot something down in your notebook, “Is there any way you can elaborate?.”  

His laughter fills the room, low and rich. “Isn’t that what I just did?” he teases, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. His fingers drum lightly on the arm of the chair as he watches you, a predator sizing up its prey. “I thought I was being pretty clear. Inspiration comes from people—complex, messy, fascinating people.”  

That sounds like an insult. You tap your pen against your notebook, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Right, but I was hoping for specifics,” you respond, doing your best to keep your tone professional despite his relentless charm. “How do you translate that into a character? What’s the first step you take when preparing for a role?”  

Gojo leans forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, and suddenly the air between you feels far too tight. “The first step?” he echoes, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. “I find the humanity in them. Even in the villains, the assholes, the broken ones. There’s always something real there, something raw. That’s what I latch onto.”  

You nod, quickly jotting down his words even as your pulse quickens. He’s finally giving you something substantive, and yet the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to focus. “That’s... an interesting perspective,” you manage, keeping your eyes on your notebook. “So you try to connect with the character on a personal level?”  

“Exactly,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “It’s like peeling back layers, you know? Finding the parts of them that no one else sees. The parts they try to hide.”  

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and you can’t help but feel like he’s talking about more than just acting. You glance up at him, and the way he’s watching you—like he’s peeling back your layers—sends a shiver down your spine.  

“I see,” you say, clearing your throat in an attempt to break the tension, “that certainly explains why your performances feel so authentic. You make it sound almost... personal.”  

“It is personal,” he replies, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “Every role I take on, every scene I play—it’s all personal. That’s why people connect with it. They see themselves in it.”  

You can’t help but be impressed, even as his words unsettle you. He’s infuriatingly good at this—at keeping you on your toes, at blurring the line between sincerity and seduction. But you’re not about to let him derail you. Not when you’ve finally gotten him to open up.  

“Do you ever find it difficult to separate yourself from the characters you play?” you ask, leaning forward slightly despite yourself. He sees this, scooting his chair closer subtly.   

Gojo’s smile widens, and for a moment, he looks almost amused. “Now that’s a good question,” he says, his tone laced with approval. “But the answer? No. I don’t separate myself from them. That’s the whole point. If I did, it wouldn’t be real.”  

His response leaves you momentarily speechless, and he seems to relish the effect he’s having on you. “Anything else you want to know?” he prompts, his grin turning devilish. “Or are you ready to call it a night?”  

Your grip tightens on your pen, and you force yourself to sit up straighter, refusing to let him see you flustered. “I’ve still got a few more questions,” you say firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. “If you’re up for it.”  

“Oh, I’m always up for it,” he quips, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and captivating. “Hit me with your best shot.”

With another nod, you look up from jotting your notes to see him sliding his rings off his slender fingers. For a moment, you do nothing but focus on the paleness of the digits. You remember him saying in an interview how his fingers were six inches long. You thought he was joking no doubt, doing it all for his thirsty fangirls. But now that you’re looking at them in person…he was actually telling the truth. Your gaze slides up to his forearms that are revealed from his messy, cuffed-up sleeves. Then they travel down his fingers to his small waist, finally to his thighs. Mentally cursing yourself, you glance back at his fingers that flex freely once they’re free from the constraints of the metal. You gulp down the dryness in your throat, an intrusive thought sneaking way into your brain—wondering about what it would feel like if they were—

“A little shameless of you.” He chuckles. 

His voice snaps your eyes back up to his. You recognize the playful glint in them, your cheeks heating with embarrassment. “I—sorry. That’s inappropriate of me.”

Gojo leans forward for the nth time, resting his elbows on his knees as his lips curve into a smug grin. “Oh, don’t apologize,” he drawls, his tone oozing amusement. “I’m flattered, really. Most people just stare at my face—nice to know my hands are getting the attention they deserve.”  

You let out a nervous laugh, gripping your pen tighter to ground yourself. “Um…it’s not like that,” you protest weakly, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “I was just... lost in thought.”  

“Lost in thought, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening as though he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. “Thinking about anything particular?”  

Your heart stutters, and for a moment, you forget how to respond. His gaze is too sharp, too knowing, like he’s reading the very thought you’d just shoved to the deepest recess of your mind. “Just about the interview,” you manage to say, your voice smoother than you expected. “I was trying to figure out how to phrase my next question.”  

“Sure you were,” he teases, leaning back again and sliding his hands into his pockets. The movement draws your attention to the way his pale blue button-up shirt stretches over his broad chest, and you quickly force your eyes back to his face before he can catch you staring again.  

“I was,” you insist, determined to salvage what’s left of your dignity. You clear your throat and flip to a fresh page in your notebook, desperate to steer the conversation back to safer territory. “Now, about your approach to emotional scenes—how do you tap into those raw feelings on set?”  

Gojo chuckles, clearly enjoying the way you’re scrambling to regain control of the conversation. “Ah, so we’re back to work now? Alright, I’ll play along.” He taps his chin thoughtfully, the playful edge in his expression softening just a fraction. “Emotional scenes are all about honesty. You can’t fake it—not if you want the audience to feel it. You have to find something real, something that hurts, and let it bleed into the performance.”  

His answer catches you off guard with its sincerity, and for a moment, you forget your embarrassment entirely. “Something real?” you echo, bending forward slightly. “So you draw from personal experiences?”  

“Sometimes,” he admits, his voice lower now, more serious. “Other times, I imagine what it would be like to lose something—or someone—I care about.” His eyes darken briefly, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face before it’s gone, replaced by his usual cocky smirk. “But enough about me. It’s always about me, what about you, hm?”  

You blink. “About me? I’m sorry but… I only came here to ask you questions.”

Gojo leans back in his chair, scooting closer in his chair. “Exactly,” he says, waving a hand lazily. “It’s always about me. The questions, the cameras, the lights. Don’t you think that gets boring?”  

You tilt your head, once again caught off guard. “I... can’t imagine someone like you ever finding the spotlight boring,” you reply carefully, unsure of where he’s steering the conversation.  

He grins, a little too self-satisfied. “Fair point. I do wear it well, don’t I? But that doesn’t mean I don’t get curious. You sit here with your little notebook, all professional and serious. But who are you when the recorder’s off? What makes you tick?”  

The shift in focus has your defenses rising, and you straighten your back slightly. “I’m not the one being interviewed, Mr.—Satoru,” you correct yourself when his grin widens at your formality.  

“No,” he says, tilting his head and giving you a once-over that feels far too perceptive. “But doesn’t mean I can’t ask, does it?”  

You let out a nervous laugh, holding your notebook a little closer. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”  

“Rules are boring,” he replies smoothly, leaning forward just enough to close the distance between you. His voice drops slightly, his tone more teasing than serious. “Come on, throw me a bone. A favorite movie, a weird hobby, your go-to midnight snack. Something.”  

You hesitate, his gaze pinning you in place. It’s not like you have anything to hide, but the sudden spotlight feels unnerving. “Midnight snack?” you echo, deciding to humor him for the sake of moving things along.  

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes lighting up like you’ve just agreed to a game only he knows the rules to. “You know, since you’re obviously not here for Mediterranean food. What do you eat when you’re burning the midnight oil?”  

You press your lips together, trying not to smile despite yourself. “Popcorn,” you admit finally. “Plain, with just a little salt.”  

“Popcorn?” He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued. “Huh. Kind of classic, but I can respect it. Guess I’ll have to stock up before our next late-night chat.”  

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks warm at his casual mention of a “next time.” “I wouldn’t count on that,” you say dryly, but he only smirks, clearly not taking you seriously.  

“We’ll see,” he says, leaning back again and waving a hand. “Alright, you’ve indulged me. Ask away again. I’m all yours.”  

The shift back to the original topic throws you off balance, but you take the opportunity and flip open your notebook, determined to keep the upper hand this time. “Great. Let’s get back to your latest role then—”  

“But popcorn, huh?” he interrupts, clearly not ready to let it go. “You don’t strike me as a plain kind of person.”  

Your pen pauses mid-note, and you give him a pointed look. “Do you always talk this much during interviews?”  

He grins, unapologetic. “Only when I’m having fun.”

You sigh, setting your pen down and narrowing your eyes at him, though the warmth in your cheeks betrays your annoyance. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a professional, you’re awfully good at derailing conversations.”  

Gojo smirks, he fixes you with that signature, infuriatingly confident gaze. “What can I say? I like keeping things interesting.” His voice dips just slightly, low and teasing, and the way his eyes sweep over you feels more deliberate now, more pointed and slower. Like he’s appreciative. “But if I’m being honest… I don’t mind the view either.”  

Your breath hitches, his words make your stomach jump. “The view?” you manage, your voice more balanced than you. 

He cocks his head, his smirk widening. “You,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Sitting there, all serious and composed, trying so hard to keep this professional. But I see the way you look at me.”  

Your heart stutters, your cheeks flushing hot. “I’m not—”  

“Oh, you are,” he interrupts, his grin turning wolfish. “First my fingers,” he flutters his digits in a wavy motion.  “Then my thighs,” he pats his lap.  “Don’t think I didn’t notice, sweetheart.”  

Your jaw drops slightly, heat creeping down your neck. “I was not—”  

“Sure you weren’t,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair and stretching, his shirt pulling just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. His voice lowers, smooth as silk. “But if you want to keep staring, I won’t stop you.”  

You swallow hard, gripping your notebook like it’s a lifeline. “Mr. Gojo, I don’t think this is appropriate.”  

“Satoru,” he corrects, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “And who’s being inappropriate? I’m just making an observation.” He leans forward again, his voice dropping to a near whisper, intimate and teasing. “Besides, don’t you think it’s a little unfair? You get to ask me all these personal questions, but I can’t ask any about you?”  

You shift in your seat, your pulse racing. “That’s not how interviews work.”  

“Maybe not,” he murmurs, his gaze darkening slightly as it locks onto yours. “But we’re not exactly following the rules, are we?”  

The tension in the room thickens, his words hanging in the air like a challenge. You glance at the door, a small voice in the back of your mind warning you to cut this short, but another part of you—one you’re desperately trying to ignore—is drawn to the way his eyes seem to drink you in, the way his voice wraps around you like a warm, dangerous promise.  

“I’m here to work,” you say finally, your voice firmer now, though it betrays a slight waver.  

“And I’m here to have a good time,” he counters, his smirk softening into something more intimate, more dangerous. “Who says we can’t do both?”  

You stare at him, your mind racing as you try to find the words to put an end to this—whatever this is—but he leans closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper.  

“Tell me,” he says, his breath ghosting over your ear, “what’s the real reason you wanted to meet me tonight? Because I don’t think it’s just for an interview.” 

You force yourself to not visibly react and jolt from the way he’s reached into your personal space so nonchalantly. “Then you’re mistaken. Because I have no other reason to be here if you won’t comply.”

“Oh yeah?” He chortles, glancing down at his fingers that barely skim along your thigh. If possible, his smile widens at the little startled gasp that falls from your pretty lips. “You want me to comply? Comply in what way?”

“H-hey,” you reach out to grip his fingers, effectively stopping their ascent. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

When he pulls back enough, he stares into your eyes. It almost scares you just how blue they are up close. You don’t think you’ve ever seen something as majestic as them. Though saying that aloud will feed into his ego. 

He tilts his head slightly, his smile turning wicked, like a predator playing with its prey. “What do you think I’m doing?” he counters, voice dropping to a husky whisper. The air between you crackles, and despite yourself, your grip on his fingers falters, his warmth sinking into your skin like a brand.  

“Satoru,” you begin, your voice shaking ever so slightly, “this is highly inappropriate.”  

“Inappropriate?” he echoes, coming just a little closer, his lips quirking in amusement. “I was just trying to get comfortable. Didn’t realize I’d make you so flustered.”  

Your breath catches, his words striking a chord you’re not ready to acknowledge. “You’re awfully bold for someone who’s supposed to be answering questions,” you manage, your voice sharp despite the fluttering in your stomach.

“And you’re awfully composed for someone who’s blushing so much,” he counters smoothly, his eyes flicking to your cheeks.

“I’m not blushing,” you snap, your tone defensive.

“Of course not,” he replies, his smirk returning. “Just like you weren’t staring earlier.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you glare at him, attempting to regain control of the situation. “I’m not flustered either,” you retort, though your trembling fingers and flushed cheeks tell a different story.  

He chuckles, low and intimate, and it sends a shiver racing down your spine. “If you say so,” he murmurs, leaning back slightly but never taking his eyes off you. His fingers slip free from your grasp, but the ghost of their touch lingers, a reminder of just how easily he’s unraveled your composure.  

“You’re impossible,” you say, your tone sharp despite the unsteadiness in your chest.  

“And yet,” he counters, his grin softening into something more dangerous, “you’re still here.”  

You open your mouth to argue, to remind him that you’re here for work, but the words catch in your throat as he shifts again, this time resting his chin on his hand, his gaze trailing lazily over you.  

“You’re fascinating, you know that?” he says, almost to himself. “All buttoned up and professional, trying so hard to keep me in line. But I wonder…” His eyes flick to your lips, lingering for a heartbeat before meeting yours again. “What would it take to make you unravel?”  

You stiffen, the heat rushing through your body making it harder to maintain your composure. “You’re crossing a line,” you warn, though your voice is weaker than you’d like.  

“Am I?” he asks, his tone teasing but his gaze piercing, as if daring you to tell him to stop. “Or are you just afraid of what might happen if I keep going?”

Your eyes dart all across his face, heart rapidly beating, so much so you think it’ll pop out of your chest. And yet, you slowly look back down at the hand that was just touching you. You feel yourself giving in the longer you stare. 

He follows your gaze, then moves back up to your face. “You like them, don’t you?”

You nod, despite yourself. 

“Knew it,” he smoothly quips back. “Do you want to feel them again? Maybe for longer?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with anticipation, and you can’t seem to swallow the lump forming in your throat. Your mind races, torn between the desire to pull away and the undeniable pull he has on you. His words—his voice—are like a drug, wrapping around your thoughts, clouding your judgment.

You force yourself to meet his gaze, but the intensity there makes it harder to keep your composure. “You’re... bold,” you murmur, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

Gojo’s lips curl into a knowing smile. “Bold? Maybe. But I’m just asking what you want.” His tone is smooth, low, coaxing. “No need to be shy about it. You’ve been looking, haven’t you?”

Your eyes flicker briefly to his hand again before locking back on his face. His question seems almost too straightforward, too easy, and yet you can’t seem to lie. You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the truth lingering just beneath the surface. “Maybe,” you admit softly, your voice a mix of hesitation and curiosity.

A soft chuckle escapes him, and his gaze sharpens. “Maybe isn’t an answer.” He leans in slightly, just enough to make your pulse spike. “Tell me, do you want to feel them again? Really feel them this time?” His voice drops to a near whisper, each word deliberate, measured.

You hold your breath, your entire body humming with uncertainty, but you can’t bring yourself to say no. The desire building within you makes your thoughts scatter, your defenses slipping away the longer you look at him. “I... don’t know,” you reply, the words barely audible.

Gojo watches you closely, his eyes darkening with something dangerous. “Mind if I find out for myself then?”

------

There’s a lot of things that you’ve never done in life. 

Skydiving, bungee jumping, going backpacking, and making out with an A-list celebrity who’s name holds so much power. Well, that last one you can cross off, actually. 

You really don’t know how things have changed so quickly and abruptly. One minute you’re writing down the answers to his questions and the next he’s on top of you. 

You don’t think you’ve ever made out with someone for this long. But it feels surpassingly really good. Maybe it’s the way he’s keeping things slow, but purposeful. His hands run along the sides of your body, occasionally gripping your hips or rising high enough to brush along under your breasts. His lips are expertly working your own, leaving you gasping for air when he pulls away for a few seconds before diving in like a starving man. His tongue prods inside your mouth, dancing along yours in a sultry dance. Rubbing it and sucking on it a few times. 

You feel him smile against your lips when the arms around his neck bring him in closer. 

The kiss deepens, and with each second, you're losing yourself more in the heat of the moment.

His body presses against yours, warm and firm, and the sensation is so overwhelming that you can't tell where you end and he begins. Every breath, every shift of his lips, ignites something inside of you that you can't ignore.

His hands are everywhere now, roaming with an insistent hunger, fingertips brushing over your skin like he's savoring every inch. The low groans he releases when you kiss him back only fuel the fire building between you. He's so confident, so sure of what he wants, and you're too far gone to stop him. The logical part of your brain—that small voice telling you to slow down—is drowned out by the intoxicating thrill of being here, of being with him.

Your hands find their way to his shirt, pulling it free from where it's tucked in, fingers trailing underneath and over the hard planes of his chest. You feel him tense for a moment, as if considering pulling away, but then his hands tighten around you, pulling you even closer. His lips are everywhere—on your neck, your jaw, your ears—each kiss leaving a trail of warmth that burns deeper into your skin.

You gasp when his teeth graze your collarbone, a quiet moan slipping out before you can stop it.

That sound, that reaction from you, seems to drive him even further. "God, you taste really fucking good," he mutters between kisses, his voice thick with desire, making you shiver beneath him. “Almost can’t get enough.”

The weight of his body on top of yours feels right, too right. There’s escaping it now, no turning back. His touch is electric and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to remember what it felt like to breathe without him. 

With one final, hard press against your lips, he pulls back. Shifting to his knees, looking down at your sprawled out figure beneath him, cheeks flushed a beautiful red, lips kiss-swollen, dilated pupils that match his. He grins and works at the rest of his buttons with one hand. “What happened to that pretty dress you were wearing earlier?”

“I…I changed.” You shakily mutter out, oblivious to the hint of rhetoric in his question. 

“Yeah, I see that. But why?”

“Because it was uncomfortable.”

You attempt to sit up and help him, but he promptly guides you back down. Freeing his shirt, revealing a chest that looks like it belongs to a Greek God. It’s lean, but muscular. It’s perfect, you think to yourself. And you really want to run your tongue along it. “Uncomfortable?” He asks. 

You nod. 

“That sucks. I would’ve liked to taste you in it.” He’s working on his belt now. “Maybe next time? Wear it again for me?”

“I don’t know if there’ll be a next time.”

He laughs out, tossing the leather to the side and unbuttoning his slacks. It’s only then do you realize the obvious tent in his pants. Your eyes widen momentarily, if it already looks this big…how will it look once he’s naked? “There’ll be a next time.”

He hovers over you again, his fingers deftly walking at the button of your jeans, lips sucking a small mark into the side of your neck. His other hand on your thigh slides up towards your hip, grabbing the hem of your shirt and slowly starts to pull it up. “Now I wonder,” he murmurs, his lips leaving your neck and moving back towards your ear, “if I asked, would I hear a ‘no’ come out of you?”

You’re shivering, breathing labored. Your hands are holding onto his shoulders to keep you grounded. “…no.”

He smiles, kissing your cheek in a gentle manner as his hands simultaneously unbutton your jeans and pull your shirt up. “So, I don’t suppose I’ll hear a ‘no’ for getting a small peek at you, will I?”

“No,” you breathe out, shoving your face into his neck. 

With a soft coo and ‘shh’, he’s removing your shirt from over your head. Then working on ridding you of your pants. “I hate jeans, makes things so much harder.”

Your legs tense up once they’re exposed to the cold air. He places his palms to your knees, carefully widening them enough to make space in between. “Have you ever been ate out?”

The question makes you feel more embarrassed—more vulnerable. 

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest. The question catches you off guard, making your skin prickle with both unease and something else you can’t quite name. You hesitantly shift, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… I have,” you manage to say, your gaze avoiding his as your cheeks flush. 

“Good?” He licks at the inside of your knee. 

Your face scrunches, brows knitting in the middle. “Y-yeah, somewhat.”

“Liar,” he chides, placing small kisses to the spot he just licked, looking up at you. “Can I try?”

And how could you say no? “Yes.” You reply quietly, watching his grin disappear behind your heated center. Eyes fluttering when he breathes warm air against it. Jolting your hips up, to which he holds them down in a gentle grip. 

A wet spot has already formed on your panties. Unbeknownst to you, it boosts his ego. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.” He takes a taste through the fabric, silently simmering with enjoyment at the way you  squeal. Licking once more before nuzzling his nose against your heat. He inhales deeply, like it’s a sweet flower bathed in honey. Once he’s satisfied, the speed at which he sparingly removes your underwear startles you. 

But so does his mouth. 

“Ah..!”

Your hand instinctively grips his snowy locks. He makes a noise of approval, lips locking around your puffy clit and giving a soft, but also harsh suck. The air practically removes your lungs, back arching off the bed. Mouth hung open, grip tightening around his hair. After a few seconds, he moves down to your fluttering hole. 

His thumb and pointer finger spreading your folds to see you clenching around nothing. His cock throbs in his pants, begging to be released. Not yet, however. You first. His tongue swirls around your hole, licking up every single remnant of juice before digging in. Feeling out every ridge with his wet muscle, eyes closing in delight. His hands bring you closer by your hips, shoving your pussy in his face. The tip of his nose is rubbing against your abandoned clit in a teasing way that makes you hungry for me. 

All you can do is gasp and moan out, pathetically rubbing against his mouth before his hands grip you back down in place. Forcing you to feel every amount of pleasure he can give to you. And god, does it feel heavenly. Your free hand is holding onto the sheets below you, crumpling under your fingertips. 

Lewd sucking noises are coming from him. It’s obnoxious, just like when he was eating his food from earlier. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose. His tongue does a certain move that has you seeing stars, moving in and out at a rapid pace, then circling up to and around your clit before plunging back to your needy hole. 

His thumb decides to partake, rubbing heated circles into your clit. “Nnn..nrgh…w-wai—” The words slip from you, just like your orgasm does. You don’t even know you’ve done it before he’s lifting his face up, revealing the pearlescent traces of your release. He doesn’t bother wiping it, instead leaning down to your lips. You taste yourself. 

It’s a new taste, one you’re not entirely excited about, but the thrill of it all is making your clench. Shaky thighs being groped by his wandering hands before looking straight down at you. “I’m kind of jealous, you know?”

You’re too fucked out already, half-lidded eyes and mumbling back a simple “what?” to him. 

He tsks and easily slips two fingers in. Keeling in on yourself, grasping his forearm for support. “Hey, don’t get all dazy on me now. I’ve just started.”

“I-I’m not…” you protest back weakly, your effort to meet his stare goes awry when you notice him frustratedly pulling the button off and zipper down, yanking the slacks down. With it goes his boxers and you’re shown a thin and curved cock. An angry red mushroom tip. A couple of veins run up his shaft, zig-zagging. He’s already leaking, pumping himself a few times. 

A small groan leaves him, placing a hand beside your head. There’s a cinch between his white eyebrows, his face red and a tad bit sweaty. His lips are downturned slightly. After some heavy breathing, he looks back down at you. Silent seconds take over, nothing but the feel of your body against his, your short breathing, the way you look so ready but nervous at the same time. His face softens. “You can take it, yeah?” 

His gaze is intense, but there’s something warmer in his eyes now—something that feels almost reassuring, like he’s giving you a choice. The way he watches you carefully makes your heart race, unsure of whether it’s fear or anticipation that grips you. You swallow, trying to steady your breathing, your fingers nervously clutching his shoulders. 

The room feels charged with tension, every muscle in your body taut as you process his words. You can feel eyes stuck on you, oddly tender, and for a moment, everything feels suspended in time. 

"Yeah," you finally manage, your voice a little shaky but resolute. "I can take it." 

His eyes soften further, a trace of a smile tugging at his lips, as if reassured by your response. “Yeah, you can. You’re not a virgin, right?”

“No.”

“Mm,” he hums, nodding briefly before glancing down at his hardened cock, achingly close to where it needs to be. “How do you like it?”

You ponder his question in your mind quickly, not trying to drag out the moment any longer than it should be. “I…I like it hard. Fast, but slow too. I just want it to feel genuine, not like you’re only seeking your own pleasure.”

“Yeah?” The corner of his lip perks up, rubbing his tip along your cum soaked folds. He laughs softly under his breath. “Funny, that’s how I like to give it. Maybe we’re a match made in heaven.”

The humor of his you once found annoying—well, still annoying—feels strangely wholehearted. Like he’s trying to make you laugh and relax your tense muscles. And you do, he meets your look again. Bending down with a soft, saccharine kiss to your lips. The kiss feels more tender than before, like he’s trying to convey some hidden emotion to you behind it all. Or maybe it’s because he likes feeling you moan into his mouth as he’s slowly sliding his cock in. 

He mirrors your whimper, moaning out in relief. You feel so snug around him, so tight. “So warm.” 

For a minute, he doesn’t move, just basking in your heat. It feels like a warm blanket, he almost—almost—thinks he might cum right then and there with how good you feel. Satoru has had pussy before, good and not so good. “Fuck…oh fuck….y-you feel…really good…”

One thing that makes you the most weak…a vocal man in bed. You tighten around him, his whine gets a little higher-pitched. If this were a different situation, you think you would’ve poked fun at him for it. “Ngh…I—I am?”

“Mmmmnghm.” Is all he can reply back with before he’s moving back slowly, then back in. 

Your nails are now digging into the skin of his back, legs locked around his waist. “Be careful, mkay?” 

“W-what? Why?”

“Because I might cum faster with you holdin’—fuck—onto me like this.”

You can’t respond before he’s pulling out with a greater force and driving back into you with a harder one. The motion alone jolts your body up, causing your tits to jiggle from beneath their cups. You see the way he’s eying them hungrily, so you do him the favor of pulling them down beneath your breasts. They spill out and he’s immediately on them. Sucking and twirling a wet path around your perky nipple before showing the other breast the same excitement. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes…”

“A-ah! O-oh! Mmmngh!”

You almost feel baffled. He’s moaning more than you are. 

His mind is filled with the warmth of you. “Fit like…a f-fuckin’…ring….!” He grunts out, followed by a broken laughter. “I think I’m obsessed.”

He’s leaving marks on your chest, but you don’t protest or even feel them. You’re solely focused on the way his cock is hitting every single spot in your pussy that you don’t even know could be reached. Eyes rolling back, clinging him closer. His tip kisses your g-spot repetitively. His balls slap against your ass, the sound is skin against skin with squelching noises fill the room. It’s erotic, completely provocative. But he’s actually living up to his word, and it seems like he’s more worried about making you finish for the second time tonight than reaching the line himself. 

As the minutes go by, he’s moving harder. Barely giving you any time to breath from the force of it, but you’re not complaining. 

“S-sat…oru…!” You whine out, biting on his shoulder in an attempt to keep your noises lower. 

All that does is spur him on even more, his moans getting louder. The grip on your hip and tit tightening as he pounds his cock into your pussy with complete ease. “So wet, so wet, yeah…oh god, fuck…”

He’s mumbling at this point, but so are you. Each of you is blinded by the pleasure you feel, the passion that’s being emitted and the marks on your bodies that are carved in. His cock twitches, his pace relentless. 

The look he gives you feels manic, hair plastered to his forehead, chest heaving up and down, nostrils flaring in and out. Your hair is messy, laid out beneath you. Mouth parted and dirty sounds exiting it. “I wish I could take a picture right now.” He comments slowly, feeling your thighs tighten. “It feels like your pussy is vibrating,” he chuffs. “Close?”

“Ngh…y-yes!” 

“Yeah, me too, pretty. You first, r-right…behind….you….”

You don’t need to hear anything else. Finally letting go, a whimper-whine coming with it. When he looks down and sees the white ring form around his cock, he’s done for. Quickening his pace, gripping your hips with both hands. “Yeah…yeah…yeah…” 

He moans in a pornographic way, an eruption of warmth fills you, leaving you in more of a blissed out state. A mixture of cum slowly dribbles out your spent pussy, he fingers it back in all the while his cock is still lodged between your folds. Slumping down on top of you, his face on your shoulder. 

The sounds of heavy breathing are heard next, no words. Your chest heaves against his and your legs are like jelly. Slowly loosening their hold from around his waist and falling down to the bed on either side of him. 

The silence is almost deafening, punctuated only by the sounds of your labored breaths. His hands move to your back, tender yet firm, as though he's holding onto the moment. The heat between you both is palpable, your bodies still connected in the aftermath of whatever just transpired. His thumb traces slow, soothing circles against your skin, and you can feel his breath matching yours.

You blink, trying to gather your thoughts, but everything feels hazy, like the world has slowed down just for the two of you.

Your body feels like it's still vibrating from the intensity, each breath a little deeper than the last as you struggle to regain some semblance of control. He shifts slightly above you, pressing against yours in the most familiar way, a warmth that you can't quite pull away from.

Slowly, you tilt your head to meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his with an unspoken understanding. He regards you with a tenderness, something different than before. 

His fingers lightly brush against your cheek, as if reassuring you that the silence, though heavy, isn't uncomfortable. "Are you okay?" His voice is low, rough, carrying more than just the weight of the question.

You nod, your lips curling into a small, uncertain smile as you lean into his touch. "Yeah, are you?" You don't know exactly what you feel, but in this moment, it's enough to be with him like this.

“Better than okay,” he proudly huffs, carefully sliding out of you, keeping aware of your facial expressions. “Stay here.”

He’s climbing off of you and standing up from the bed. His knees buckle a little, forcing the limbs to walk over to a cabinet in the other corner. His dick flapping as it softens makes you chuckle. When he looks over, you hide it with a cough. 

You hear him look for some things through drawers, glancing back over, it’s a rag that he wets under the sink with warm water. He comes back over, carefully opening your legs back up and cleaning up the sticky mess between them. He works gently and slowly, making sure his movements aren’t too hard or fast for you. 

A thought suddenly hits you. 

“Hey…” you take your time sitting up once he’s down, seeing him lick something off the tip of his thumb. “When you said you were jealous earlier, what did you mean?”

“Oh, that?” He leisurely asks, grabbing the water bottle nearby and taking a sip before holding it to your mouth. You oblige. “I meant I was jealous that someone else got to you before I did.”

“O-oh…” he swipes at the water drop at the corner of your mouth. “But…why?”

“Why?” He repeats, chortling. A sudden soft peck is placed on your lips. “Because I’ve seen you interviewing all those people and I’ve  been waiting for my turn. And if you didn’t already notice, I think you’re a very beautiful woman. Inside and out.” He pokes lightly at your thigh. 

You blink, as he’s once again managed to throw you off the railings. 

“So next time don’t bring all…this,” he lazily gestures to your notebook, pencil, and recorder, rolling his eyes. “Just yourself, that cute dress, and a smile. I’ll pick you up for dinner down that street.”

a/n: hope u guys enjoyed this :) i haven't written a smut piece in a while so im not toooo confident about my work in this. anywho, reblogs and comments are apprecaited <3 thank you all!

[novlr]

Any tips on how to describe indoor spaces so they feel real and match the vibe of the story without throwing in too much detail?

Getting interior scenes just right is all about finding the balance between setting the mood, showing the unique personality of your story world, and keeping the plot moving. There are lots of ways you can use senses, action, and background to set a scene, all of which can work seamlessly with the type of story you want to tell. Here are some tips on how you can achieve that:

How does it look?

Lighting: does your space contain the soft glow of lamps, harsh fluorescent lights, or natural light?

Use colour and textures like peeling paint, plush velvet, or sleek marble.

Size and scale: is it claustrophobically small or impressively grand?

Architectural features: does the space have high ceilings, crown mouldings, or exposed beams?

Furnishings: are they modern, sparse, antique, or cluttered?

Style and decor: what style is represented, and how does it affect the atmosphere?

State of repair: is the space well-kept, neglected, or under renovation?

Perspective and layout: how do spaces flow into each other?

Unique design features: describe sculptural elements, or things that stand out.

Spatial relationships: describe how objects are arranged—what’s next to, across from, or underneath something else?

How does it sound?

Describe echoes in large spaces or the muffled quality of sound in carpeted or furnished rooms.

Note background noises; is there a persistent hum of an air conditioner, or the tick of a clock?

Describe the sound of footsteps; do they click, scuff, or are they inaudible?

Include voices; are they loud and echoing or soft and absorbed?

Is there music? Is it piped in, coming from a live source, or perhaps drifting in from outside?

Capture the sounds of activity; typing, machinery, kitchen noises, etc.

Describe natural sounds; birds outside the window, or the rustle of trees.

Consider sound dynamics; is the space acoustically lively or deadened?

Include unexpected noises that might be unique to the building.

Consider silence as a sound quality. What does the absence of noise convey?

How does it smell?

Identify cleaning products or air fresheners. Do they create a sterile or inviting smell?

Describe cooking smells if near a kitchen; can you identify specific foods?

Mention natural scents; does the room smell of wood, plants, or stone?

Are there musty or stale smells in less ventilated spaces?

Note the smell of new materials; fresh paint, new carpet, or upholstery.

Point out if there’s an absence of smell, which can be as notable as a powerful scent.

Consider personal scents; perfume, sweat, or the hint of someone’s presence.

Include scents from outside that find their way in; ocean air, city smells, etc.

Use metaphors and similes to relate unfamiliar smells to common experiences.

Describe intensity and layering of scents; is there a primary scent supported by subtler ones?

What can you do there?

Describe people’s actions; are they relaxing, working, hurried, or leisurely?

Does the space have a traditional use? What do people come there to do?

Note mechanical activity; elevators moving, printers printing, etc.

Include interactions; are people talking, arguing, or collaborating?

Mention solitary activities; someone reading, writing, or involved in a hobby.

Capture movements; are there servers bustling about, or a janitor sweeping?

Observe routines and rituals; opening blinds in the morning, locking doors at night.

Include energetic activities; perhaps children playing or a bustling trade floor.

Note restful moments; spaces where people come to unwind or reflect.

Describe cultural or community activities that might be unique to the space.

How is it decorated?

Describe the overall style; is it minimalist, baroque, industrial, or something else?

Note period influences; does the decor reflect a specific era or design movement?

Include colour schemes and how they play with or against each other.

Mention patterns; on wallpaper, upholstery, or tiles.

Describe textural contrasts; rough against smooth, shiny against matte.

Observe symmetry or asymmetry in design.

Note the presence of signature pieces; a chandelier, an antique desk, or a modern art installation.

Mention thematic elements; nautical, floral, astronomical, etc.

Describe homemade or bespoke items that add character.

Include repetitive elements; motifs that appear throughout the space.

What is its history?

Mention historical usage; was the building repurposed, and does it keep its original function?

Describe architectural time periods; identify features that pinpoint the era of construction.

Note changes over time; upgrades, downgrades, or restorations.

Include historical events that took place within or affected the building.

Mention local or regional history that influenced the building’s design or function.

Describe preservation efforts; are there plaques, restored areas, or visible signs of aging?

Describing indoor spaces doesn’t have to feel like a chore. Focus on the details that matter most, tie them to the mood or characters, and let your readers fill in the blanks. A well-crafted space not only sets the scene but builds your character's relationship to it. Use sensory language, background, and action beats to tie it into your narrative, and don’t be afraid to play around with motifs and contradictions, depending on who is experiencing it!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Miss Raven!!!

First of all, I wanna tell you I'm a great fan of your work, it helps me understand better a world that I love, so please don't stop doing it!

Secondly, I wanna know if you know of the existence of the 34 pages long essay of L*ona and your opinion on it due to the love-hate relationship you have with him.

Thank you once again for all that you do and I hope you have a really great year!!!!!

AAaaAAAAaAHHhhhHHHH, thank you for your kind words!! I've had my ups and downs with this fandom, but for the most part I've enjoyed my time here and very much intend to stick around~ Before I get to my thoughts, I'd like to give credit to @/arledrone, who I believe is the owner and author of said 34-page L*ona document! Thanks for penning this all the way back in... what, 2022?? For us to rediscover and read now in 2025 ^^

First thing's first, the document is actually quite old, so obviously there's a lot of materials missing (the Savanaclaw manga, light novel, the completed book 6, all the book 7 content, the new and relevant events/cards/voice lines/vignettes that have come out since then, etc. I'm of the belief that we don't necessarily need to look at this, as the point of the document seems to be pointing out Leona's very slow growth (and sometimes regression back to his worst traits) over the course of the content that was avaliable up until the point of the document's publication.

I won't bore you by regurgitating everything in the document; I'll just point at some things I found notable!

For the most part, I agree with the broad strokes and general interpretations of how Leona's character is presented. He's very complex and you often have to look beyond what he's initially claiming because he has ulterior motives or intentionally tries to act tough to conceal his own insecurities and vulnerabilities. (However, I did find the document a little difficult to follow in the beginning because it kind of felt like meandering with no clear topic or order of topics being established, just several paragraphs of listing Leona's traits without giving concrete examples to back them up? I guess the examples were provided eventually... still, I feel the document could have been edited and condensed a bit. The flow improved considerably when we got into summarization of the vignettes, book 2, and events.)

OP made very similar points as myself, such as saying that Leona isn't specifically after the crown, but what the crown represents (though this conclusion is common among L*ona fans). I was pleasantly surprised to even see them proposing that how others view Leona negatively may even be self-imposed--I had suggested the same thing a few years ago, but haven't seen this idea (or this particular phrasing) gain traction. I think my favorite parts of the document were comparing and contrasting Leona's reactions to criticism (in his School Uniform vignette vs in Fairy Gala). Vil appears as a major point of contention in both and serves as an excellent obstacle to challenge the arrogant and hard-headed Leona. I've compared the two before, and I think that helps to explain why Vil and Leona so often clash. Vil's the perfect person to go toe-to-toe with Leona, call him out for his BS, and push him to "be better". Fans frequently complain about how it feels like the OB boys didn't change significantly following their books--but they have, and they are, you just have to be willing to do the work to dig it up because the main story alone is not sufficient. It's a subtle thing, 'blink and you'll miss it' moments. All the main story can do is tell you "Leona is now consistently training with his team" and, "Leona is now getting off his ass to pitch in with physical labor". Book 6 certainly did a good job of showing us his development, but a lot of it I wager is personal reflection, and that's not going to always be easy to spot of manifest in a tangible, easy-to-see way, especially given how little we interact with the guy directly. We should be more cognizant that character change can happen off-screen (ie not in the main story) and outside of the presence of Yuu, and is not automatic or done in huge leaps. I think I would have liked it if Leona's minor roles were also touched on, but I understand why they were left out. It's a lot of information to look through, and there was less value in events like Beans Day, Ghost Marriage, etc. compared to instances where he was far more proactive. I'd argue that the times where he doesn't feature as a main character serve to characterize him a lot as well (and thus have their value) though; he uses his cunning to find an "easy way" to victory (even if it ended up failing in the end), he gets competitive with Vil over something he doesn't even care about due to his deeply rooted superiority complex, etc.

That about summarizes my thoughts! Apologizes if it was short, it was tough to really comment on stuff since at that point I’d only be repeating what’s written in the document.

[hyukascampfire]

HYUKASCAMPFIRE NATION i truly believe that you would love this one. you’ve gotta give it a read. for me!! >.<

kipo. KIPO. let me just say that this is about to be my entire personality!! i cannot wait for this series. you are absolutely one of my, if not my favorite, authors on moablr. you know exactly what makes a story. this is a PERFECT prologue, and i am hooked immediately. not to mention, as a personal writing style buff, that you have mastered prose. you know exactly when to keep things functional AND when to wax poetic, when to keep the plot moving and when to inject a little more personality into your writing. good prose should fade into the background for immersion, and this did exactly that. not once was a line clunky or anything. this is quite literally professional writing, and we are so blessed to be reading this for free. and, you know me. the fantasy aspect/world of this is just… insane? i LOVE when you can tell an author has crafted their universe with love and care. this is exactly what fantasy should be. i would quite literally read this as a book! you are incredible and never cease to amaze me. waiting very patiently for the next part. holy hell.

first of all, i am so in love with kai. his personality is smth DIFFERENT i just cannot put it into words, but i am drawn to him freaky style. like, i love this kai, and can tell i am going to be so attached to him. and can i just give u a good round of applause for this MC? and the dynamic between her and Kai? and just the storyline thus far in general? wow.

okay. here are my thoughts while reading :3!!

Dark hair fell over his warm-brown eyes, but you could still see how kind they were as they watched the other members of the Collective almost fondly. His green hood was over his head and he fiddled with the seams of his white pants with pale hands. KAIIIIIIIII I FEEL IT IN MY BONES

“If I may?” the voice asked. You looked to the side, eyes meeting dirty brown boots whose eyelets caught in the bright sun. They trailed upwards to white pants and gold embroidered filigree onto a light, forest-green velvet fabric. OH YOU MAY

“U—No worries! It was nothing, really. Kai.” He stammered over his words before his eyebrows raised. “My name. It’s–I’m, uh, Kai.” mama i LOVE him

You watched the slightest hints of green feather away around the lengths of your fingers, so fast the color was barely distinguishable. A smile spread across your face from ear to ear. WHAT. LOOK AT U GO. call that determination. i rlly love this MC quite literally off the bat. MCs sometimes fall flat for the importance of plot points in the ff writing world, but you’re doing such a great job making MC/reader into a PERSON. love it to death.

“Knowledge, my owlet. There’s much more out there than the green thumbs of Pith—the royals and the wealthy.” Althea spat out green thumbs like food stuck on her tongue. You knew she never liked the Collective, but to this day, she still never told you why. this worldbuilding is quite literally just insane and wonderful. GOD i love fantasy. thabk you for feeding me kipo

“The Forest That Watches, it is called,” she continued. “Its white-barked trees have black eyes drawn onto them by people from long ago and its drooping pink leaves kiss the sacred ground.” fantasy lover in me is literally just thriving right now. hell yeah.

And how you wish that it was Althea who plucked you from the streets instead of Lamia. me too. me n my homies hate lamia. althea is the mom that stepped up 😞💞

“Green?” she asked you, accusatory. You're unsure whether her accusatory tone was towards you or not. wait althea please. please 😞

Your brows knitted at the change in her demeanor, but you concluded that it was better to leave it be. GUYS PLEASE WHAT IS GOING AWN. i feel a stirring that i do not like

You giggled to yourself, letting your arms flow in the harmony of the wind. You twirled and moved your body to the tune of nature—to the sounds of the forest’s edge behind you with its rustling leaves and chattering animals. The crown of sticks and fallen leaves fell down further onto your forehead and you laughed more. You didn’t even notice the single brilliant blue butterfly that landed on it and completed your costume. literally cannot explain to you how happy this passage makes me and my faerie freakishness. oh kipo you GET it

You sang and danced around in the grass, pretending that you weren’t human at all, but faerie. That you were queen and the lands stretching from the edge of the forest to the inn was your kingdom. You wished you lived in Faerie where all the other magical creatures resided. That you and Althea could live there together, happy. Maybe even Kai could join you too. You giggled more at the wonderful thought. THE WHIMSY KIPO STOP. i think that this series is abt to become my personality. this is scratching an itch that i have not been able to reach in a fantasy book for a WHILE.

You turned your attention back to the doll propped up on a rock, watching you. “Don’t look at me that way,” you say, twirling once more before making your way over to it. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again:: I LOVE THIS MC. she’s very in tune with herself.

Too lost in your own dream-like world, you don’t notice the crunching of leaves beneath boots. “Well, all Queens need a King to stand beside them,” a voice said behind you. You spun in place, clutching the doll to your chest. Kai tilted his head at you, an easy smile playing on his lips. “Don’t you think?” he concluded. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“I see Kai has finally found someone willing to lay with him!” one shouted sarcastically. DAMN!

Kai took your hand in his and bent over to press his lips to the back of it, his eyes flicking up to look at you between his lashes. oh i’m fucking sick. where are my iron bars so i can gnaw at them.

“Well, you’ll find that I am the best of the best,” Kai spoke, lowly. His eyes dropped to your lips and he swayed a little. “Nobody stands a chance against me.” NAWWW WTF KIPO ARE YOU INSANE

“Why don’t you show her your magic wand!” a voice behind you and Kai yelled in your direction. The two of you broke apart, yet Kai’s hand remained on your cheek. Embarrassment crept up your neck and you could tell from Kai’s red ears that he was feeling the same way. He turned to where the voice came from, brows drawing together to form another dirty glare. i’ll kill you

The silence lasts for a moment before all sound comes rushing back to you so fast it felt like your ears were bleeding. There was screaming and crying and more cracking of bones set into place. You opened your eyes to see that the once green pasture you danced in was covered in red—red so dark it was almost black, and disfigured bodies and torn limbs were everywhere. WHAT IS GOING ON. WHAT IS GOING ONNNNNN.

“Shut up. Go. I never want to see your vile face again!” Lamia screamed, her wrinkled face turning as red as the sunset behind her. She pointed a shaky finger away from the inn. You stood up on weak legs, your knees shaking. “But—but, Mom—” you cried. MC my sweet darling angel you do not deserve this

Love is a very wretched thing. It lets in the rot and the maggots and the ash. But, you still couldn’t help scraping off the corruption and placing it gently in your heart anyway. You couldn’t let go of the thought that maybe it could be beautiful, that it could be worth the cracked skin. saving space for this beautiful paragraph. i am simply a woman that cannot help but appreciate good sentence turn. yes.

Silence penetrates the air before he speaks again. “They kicked me out,” Kai says, his lifeless eyes still boring into you. “They kicked me out of the School of Pith.” they’re both alone and have lost their ways in a sense, now. she doesn’t have her home or mother anymore, and kai the pith. it’s so sweet that he came right to her :((

WAS SO SAD SEEING IT END but now i just get to wait with so much anticipation for the next part. whew.

BETWEEN TWILIGHT SKIES ───𝓅𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾: 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

in a world that’s on its dying breath, the once green and lush landscapes get buried in more and more layers of ash. the once flourishing streets that were full of magic are now a dull hum. yet, there is still hope—and it lies in the hands of you and kai, the last people to possess magic. suddenly, you remember the story of a forest that watches, and a well of life that lies deep within. you’re determined to save your bleak world in any way that you can, yet, you weren’t expecting to end up in a brand new world entirely.

pairing ⸝⸝ huening kai 𝑥 fem!reader 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳!𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢 (𝘰𝘤) & 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳!𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢 (𝘰𝘤)

genre ⋆ 📖 ⸝⸝ angst, fluff, a lot of yearning and longing (both romantic and platonic), magic, sorcerer!kai

warnings ⸝⸝ kidnapping, toxic environments and parental relationships, implied bullying, two instances of reader getting slapped, violence, death (of people & animals), depictions of gore, implied anxiety attack and abuse, hand holding & staring into each others eyes, tension filled kissing

𝓴ipo’s note ⸝⸝ the series has finally started!! now listen, listen, listen!! i know what you’re thinking, “a prologue and it’s 7.6k????” but i need you guys to STAY WITH ME!!! stay with me and lock in and after reading it all you’ll understand why it had to be this long lmao… next chapter you’ll meet yeonjun hehe~~ i hope you enjoy!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ❨ 7.6k ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝓼𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝒎𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

‎ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏  ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏͏ 𐦍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏NEXT ⤇

The world around you had begun to wither away and decay long before it had started to end. As most things do, the rot had started to creep its way in through love. It had used it as a gateway, spreading its sickness all throughout the things you touched until it was the thin wisps of ash coating your cracked fingertips. Still, you let the rot in—let it corrupt the things you loved and change them into something unrecognizable, something unimaginable—something that was now dead and gone. You just couldn’t let go of the small doses of love you were granted with—naively gulping down tasteless sips to fill that hole inside your heart left by people you never even really knew.

You cradled love like a child guards its favorite toy; with fear and hesitancy. It was clear in the way your body hunched over and you looked up at every grown-up through wet lashes. Obvious in the way your dirty clothes hung limply from gangly limbs—once a tight fit but now they seemed to be made for a child much older than you. It must’ve been what enthralled her, what made her decide to pluck a random child no older than five off the street in the middle of the night and take them home.

In a way, you guess you had to thank her for the senseless crime she committed; for it gave you a warm bed to lay your head at night and food to fill your growling belly. It didn’t bother you that it all had come at a price, in fact, you were none the wiser. But, you’d know soon enough. The mask can only stay on for so long before it starts to crack—before it starts to rot like everything else did.

Lamia, is the name she sweetly whispered next to your ear as she tucked you into a bed that was never yours that night. “But, you can call me Mom,” she said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was hard watching things change in front of your very eyes. It was never the way people described it for you. Not the slow twist of vines along a column or the grass growing taller than a fence—no. It was the whipping of wind across your face. You’d go to wipe your teary eyes and find the sunny and warm scenery was now cold and dead with glittering snow laying everywhere.

You hated it.

You wished that things could stay as they were for as long as they could. You hated watching the faces of people you’ve grown to know dip and sag with age in an instant. You hated watching the life leave their eyes in a quick blink. And you hated how life seemed to go so slow for everyone except for you.

If you could dare to wish for one thing, it would be more time.

Sweet nights and even sweeter days began to sour, and Lamia—your mother—wasn’t as kind as she used to be when you were still a child. You think that that is what hurt the most with this odd whipping of wind, that you were forced to watch the love your mother held for you leave her eyes faster than you got to grow up to the young teenager you were today.

“Welcome to the Freywolf Inn!” you heard her voice exclaim to the ringing bell of the door. It was a careful blend of welcoming and cheerful. The sound was drowned out of your ears by the incessant sound of a brush against hardwood and soap mixing with water. You sat back on your knees, throwing the brush into the soapy mess and letting it clang against the floor, sighing. You wiped the back of your wet hand across your forehead and sucked in a breath.

Your knees ached and your hands were sore and cramped. This was the worst part of your mornings. No matter how hard you scrubbed these wooden floors, it wasn’t enough for Lamia. If they didn’t shine as if freshly polished when you were done then you scrubbed them wrong and she made you clean them again. Standing up on weak legs, you looked over your shoulder at the new customers as you reached for the bucket of dirty soap water. A soft gasp left your lips and you had to hold on tight to the bucket handle with both hands to ensure its contents didn't go spilling all over the floor.

You’d recognize them anywhere—the Collective, with their hooded, light forest-green cloaks embroidered with gold filigree and its golden satin insides. You never saw a member in person before—not that you were particularly excited to. Seeing a member of the Collective, so far away from the School of Pith, could only mean one thing…

The rot was here.

Frozen like a deer caught on sacred ground, you stared wide-eyed at them as they made their way to the common room, their carefree laughs carrying in the air around them. It felt like a bad omen—a confirmation. You tried so hard to ignore the fate of the things around you, but seeing that you could no longer hide from it was like a punch to your stomach.

Strangely, you also couldn’t help but be morbidly fascinated by it all. You exhaled slowly, steadying your racing heart and stilling your shaking hands that grasped the handle of the wooden bucket. Distantly, you felt the sting of pain across the back of your hands and shut your eyes. Only when every last molecule of air was absent from your lungs did you allow yourself to gulp in more to soothe the burning—just like your mother taught you.

Your eyes fluttered back open and landed on the group of sorcerers. They playfully practiced their magic out in the open—ringlets of green floating in the air and curling around their fingers and forearms. Their hands moved in peculiar ways, a jerk here or a smooth twist of their wrist there. You couldn’t understand it, but the more you watched them perform magic in front of your very eyes, the more you wanted to. 

One member stood out to you in particular. He sat off to the side, a small distance away from where the others engaged and practiced their magic at, by himself. Dark hair fell over his warm-brown eyes, but you could still see how kind they were as they watched the other members of the Collective almost fondly. His green hood was over his head and he fiddled with the seams of his white pants with pale hands. There was a ghost of a smile on his face and—unbeknownst to you—there was one on yours too.

He didn’t practice his magic like the others did. He seemed content in just watching, having no need in the selfish display of power the others showcased. It piqued your interest what set him apart from the others and already you could feel a growing favor blossom in your chest for the boy.

He had to be only a few years older than you were and your cheeks warmed at the thought. He reached his arms up and pushed the hood backwards off his head, seemingly oblivious to your staring as were the rest of them. The filtered daylight washed over his body and you saw him more clearly. Your eyes greedily scanned over the slopes of his face, desperate to take him all in as quickly as you could. You couldn’t lie, he was beautiful.

You trailed your eyes over to the wisps of the green in the air. It’s different knowing that magic exists in a world so bleak and actually seeing it in action. It made you wonder where the ash was here in your small village—the rot—so you could watch them smother it. You needed to see those ringlets of green curl around it tighter and tighter until it didn’t exist anymore. Until all of the ash was gone for good.

You wanted to know what it felt like to wield such magic. Your fingers itched to replicate their movements in hopes that green wisps of your own would emerge. Maybe then would your touch not bring about destruction.

A hand roughly grabs your shoulder and breaks you away from the trance you were under. “Stupid child! Can you not hear?”

Lamia’s wrinkled face startlingly comes into view and you feel the bite of her nails in the flesh of your arm through the fabric of the thin dress you wore. You stammered, unsure of what to say and what her previous words were, and blinked rapidly at her accusation.

Wind whipped across your face and too late did you feel prickling pain spread across your cheek. The inn fell deathly silent and your eyes started to water. You swallowed down the lump in your throat thickly, your watery eyes finding your mother’s. “When I ask you a question, you answer it. Do I have to repeat myself?” your mother asked you.

Slowly, you shook your head and willed yourself to find your voice. “N-no, mother.” Your voice came out in a quiet squeak, completely pathetic and weak.

“Good,” Lamia responded. “Dry these soap-covered floors before our customers slip. Then, I want you to ensure the rooms for them are ready.” 

“Yes, mother,” you said in that same weak voice.

She looked you up and down for a moment before tsking. Then, she turned on her heel and returned back to where she was behind the counter beforehand. Smoke curled from her mouth as she leisurely flipped through the sign-in book, unaware of the way time changed around her.

You swallowed thickly again, fingers tightening and untightening around the handle of the bucket you still held. Slowly, you turned just enough to look over your shoulder at lounging customers. No longer did they smile and laugh with a carefree attitude and swirls of green in the air. Instead, they stared at you with barely disguised shock. Your gaze snapped to the boy you were spellbound with earlier to find him staring too, mouth slack and sitting at the edge of the couch like he was eager to stand. His eyes met your teary ones and you broke away from the sudden connection.

Lifting the bucket closer to your chest, you rushed off into the direction of the rooms, embarrassment weighing you down and the once unshed tears now falling down your face. You ignored the sloshing sound of the water inside of it and the way the wood hit against your stomach, spilling over the metal lip and onto the floor below, creating an even bigger mess.

Sniffling, you hid yourself in the supply room. Your tears fell freely and a large sob wracked your body. You let the bucket slip from your fingers just inches from the rocky floor without a care and with a piercing thud. Stupid, you thought to yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Get it together. Stop crying.

Yet, the tears wouldn't stop. You heaved in breaths of air that refused to reach your lungs. You didn’t have time for this. If the floors weren’t dry and the rooms weren’t checked on in a timely manner then you’d get worse than a slap across the face. Harshly, you dug the palms of your hands into your cheeks and wiped away the fallen tears. You compelled yourself to take a deep breath, to let the oxygen reach your lungs and not be blocked by the false closing of your throat. 

Closing your eyes, you took in another deep breath, and another and another until your body no longer began to tremble. You straightened your back so you weren’t hunched over anymore and wiped your hands down the front of your damp dress. When you felt like you weren’t unravelling at the seams only then did you step out of the supply room to face the world.

Instead of the loud chattering coming from the Collective like from when they arrived, it was quiet and sparse whispers. When you got closer to where they were in the common room, the whispers grew.

You tried to drown their whispers out—opting to instead get to work on your mother’s request. Dropping to your knees, you took the clean towel and aggressively dried the wet section of hardwood floor beneath you, letting all your focus fall onto the repeated action.

Footsteps sounded behind you, but you didn’t hear them until an unfamiliar voice stunned you from your focus. “If I may?” the voice asked. You looked to the side, eyes meeting dirty brown boots whose eyelets caught in the bright sun. They trailed upwards to white pants and gold embroidered filigree onto a light, forest-green velvet fabric. Your hand halted its aggressive drying as your eyes ascended further to meet the boy from earlier’s handsome face. Your eyes widened to saucers and his seemed to be just as big as they looked down at you. “It will all go faster if I do this,” he continued, some of his words wobbling around the edges.

You remained silent, not trusting your voice to not come out raw and abrasive. The boy extended a hand out in front of him and with a twist of his wrist wisps of green emerged and wrapped around it. They swirled out around the two of you, lightly fogging across the floor. You turned to the wet floor in front of you and watched as it suddenly dried, the wood shining in the sunlight pouring in from the window. Your jaw slackened as your mouth fell open.

“It was a simple spell—you shouldn’t have to be on your hands and knees drying a floor,” the boy stated, the second part lower than the first so your mother didn’t hear. He outstretched his hand to you. Your mouth was still open as you turned back to stare blankly at his hand. An amused and warm smile pulled his cheeks upward and you suddenly came to the realization that you must’ve looked ridiculous.

“T-thank you…” you trailed off, voice barely above a whisper, still starstruck by the display of magic and the boy’s smile. You straightened your back before blinking a couple times. Clearing your throat, you accepted his outstretched hand and the boy helped you to your feet.

He chuckled and you felt your knees weaken more. His hand was still holding yours, the both of you forgetful as your gaze seared into each other. The smile slowly fell from his face, his lips parting with unspoken words as he gaped at you as if bewitched. Snickering to your side brought the two of you back to real life and you pulled your hands away from each other. 

“Uh,” the boy said, clenching the hand that was just holding yours and trying to form a coherent sentence. His gaze snapped briefly to the other members of the Collective before landing on you again. “U—No worries! It was nothing, really. Kai.” He stammered over his words before his eyebrows raised. “My name. It’s–I’m, uh, Kai.”

Kai outstretched his hand again before he thought better of it and swiftly yanked it away, instead rubbing the back of his neck with it. If you weren’t so disoriented you’d laugh, but you just stare at him instead, the heat slowly creeping up your neck. You then realize how much of a mess you must look and quickly wipe your cheeks to get rid of any remaining tears. “Um,” you start, “I… I’m—”

Your name slices through the air like a knife. You jump, eyes darting over to where your mother stood behind the counter, a saccharine smile pulling her lips as she looked at the two of you. It felt as if you were watching a snake rattle its tail. Looking back to Kai, you offer him the tiniest of smiles before rushing away again, leaving him standing alone.

You’re not quite sure when the obsession with magic started. Maybe it was when you saw how carefree the Collective looked wielding it, as if it was second nature. Or, maybe it was when Kai had so graciously used it to help you out so you didn’t have to spend the remainder of the morning on your hands and knees. All you did know was that it had sunk its claws inside of you, gripping fiercely at your heart and making the hole inside of it larger.

Maybe it was when you started sneaking away from, or even downright rushing to finish, your duties so you could watch them practice magic. Maybe it was the rush you got watching their hands twist and jerk in specific movements for specific outcomes, green coils emerging from the motions.

But, you think it started when you lifted your hands into the air, daring to copy them.

At first, it was nothing, and frustration built up like a brick wall inside you. Then, that frustration turned to resentment, and that resentment into anger.

The Collective were here for a week so far and you weren't sure how long you had left before they departed. Why weren’t you born with magic like they were? If you had magic, it would change everything. No longer would everything rot around you when you could smother the rot all out—bring everything that has long been dead and gone back to life. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

You flicked your fingers in the air angrily as green smoked around the member’s fingers and not yours. Something a mix between and groan and a growl emerged from your throat instead. But, you were determined—and you refused to give up.

Perfecting the twists of your wrists and quick jerks of your fingers, you exhaled steadily and focused on getting the same result the member of the Collective did—cracking open a single walnut without touching it. The walnut sat on the floor in front of you mockingly and you scowled at it before focusing again.

“Come on,” you whispered to yourself. “Come on, come on. Work, please.” With one final twist of your wrist, you heard the distinct cracking sound and a soft gasp pushing between your lips. Your face broke into a smile and it took everything in you not to cheer at the top of your lungs. You watched the slightest hints of green feather away around the lengths of your fingers, so fast the color was barely distinguishable. A smile spread across your face from ear to ear.

“Yes!” you proclaimed, taking care to keep your voice low. A pleased laugh left your mouth and happy tears filled your lash line, “Yes!”

Your view snapped back to that of the Collective in the dining hall. You listened to the way they joked with each other and made water spin into wine—getting themselves drunk and red-faced. As your stare analyzed them, you noticed that Kai wasn’t among them.

It was odd, you thought, but it reminded you of the first time you saw him and how he sat apart from the others. How different he seemed from them. Just from watching the Collective members interact, you already didn’t like them. Maybe Kai felt the same.

You haven’t talked to him since that day—haven’t really seen him around besides quick glimpses, either. A peculiar feeling stirred in your chest and you weren’t sure what it meant. You just hoped that your paths would cross again.

When you weren’t at Freywolf Inn, you were at the craft guild with your nose buried in a book. You were there so often that you were on a first name basis with the stationer, Althea, a sweet lady who distinctly had the look that reminded you of a barn owl. In the entirety of your small village, it seemed Althea was the only one who wasn’t victim to the rot. You felt safe being around her—and she always remarked how much you were like a daughter to her.

She let you freely borrow the books she received or binded and even let you hang out behind the counter while she dealt with artisans and people wealthier than you could ever imagine who came to see her from all over the world. You remember asking her one day why people came from all over to see her wares.

“Not that they’re bad,” you quickly added, leaning the open book onto your thighs as you looked up at her from your hiding spot underneath the counter. She threw you a witty smile over her shoulder from the press she was at, hair the color of cinnamon sticks falling over her shoulder. The two of you felt as if you were moving at the same speed—you barely realized the fact that streaks of white slowly became more prevalent in her hair. “I mean, this is just such a small village… Wouldn’t they go to communes or the King’s Roots where the school is?”

Althea’s voice was nothing like you’ve heard before despite her saying how she grew up in the village. It had a strange accent and the way she spoke was like silk against the bark of a tree. Althea turned from where she worked to meet your questioning look, leaning over and resting her elbows on her knees so she was just about eye level with you, “Not… quite. See, I offer words that you won’t find on a shelf at the School of Pith. Illustrations they wouldn’t dare to let one of their students witness.”

You sat up more underneath the counter, completely abandoning the still open book in your lap. Your eyes shined with curiosity and Althea laughed—a sound that resembled crackling fire. “What kind of words?” you asked her.

“Knowledge, my owlet. There’s much more out there than the green thumbs of Pith—the royals and the wealthy.” Althea spat out green thumbs like food stuck on her tongue. You knew she never liked the Collective, but to this day, she still never told you why.

Althea stood and walked over to one of the shelves that you never touched, but was always only open for certain customers who came inside the guild hooded and quiet. Her finger ran along the spines as her white brows drew together, “There is a forest in this world, buried deep within another.” Her brows lifted as she found the book she was looking for and she made her way back to the counter.

You crawled from beneath the counter, twisting to watch as she laid the thick book down onto it and opened it to the beginning pages. You gently discarded the book you were reading off to the side of the counter, your focus now on the twirling of words and stirring drawings. Althea’s fingers gently caressed the pages. Her face was distant and longing, like recounting a memory that happened centuries ago. “The Forest That Watches, it is called,” she continued. “It’s white-barked trees have black eyes drawn onto them by people from long ago and its drooping pink leaves kiss the sacred ground.”

For a moment, Althea was quiet. You waited patiently, decidedly taking in the open page until she was ready to speak again. You could tell that this forest was a sensitive topic for her and you didn’t want to pry. You looked up at her when she wrapped her arm around your shoulders. She regarded you with a fond smile, “The forest has never been found, though, and it remains watching—waiting. Its pink leaves hide what’s inside; the Well of Life.”

With her free arm, Althea flipped through the pages until it landed on the Forest and the Well. “Woah,” you muttered, leaning forward to get a better look at it. Even from the illustrations you could tell how beautiful it was, feel the magic that radiated from it all.

You knew why it hadn’t been found yet—why it never could be. That much power in the wrong hands would be detrimental. But, you couldn’t help but wonder how different your world would be if it had access to the magical waters Althea was telling you about.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Althea breathed wistfully. “We’ll meet there one day… under the pink leaves and drink from the Well.” She returned her gaze to yours. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Then the turning of the sun won’t seem so fast.”

You sighed to yourself as your eyes fell back to the pages. You leaned your head into Althea’s side and she wrapped her arm around you tighter. “That would be nice,” you say.

In the darkness of the night, you let the shadows listen to your deepest wishes. And how you wish that it was Althea who plucked you from the streets instead of Lamia.

You wander Althea’s shelf now, hands running along the spines. Your fingertips still buzz with the magic you emitted earlier and you swear you can feel the contents of the shelved books calling out to you. Stilling, your fingers halt onto a book. The pull was just too strong to deny and when you turn your head to read the spine you find that the lettering has been rubbed away by time. You hum in slight annoyance before pulling the book from the shelf.

You can feel how Althea’s eyes trail you, especially when you walk over to the counter to take your familiar spot under it. In the corner of your eye, you can see her head tilt. “You feel different. And you’re quiet—quieter than usual,” she says quizzically.

Looking up from your book, a corner of your mouth raises. “Magic, Althea…” Your face breaks out into full-on excitement. “I have it! At least… sparks of it…”

Althea’s face doesn’t change from its quizzical expression. She shifts in her seat in front of the press. “Green?” she asked you, accusatory. You're unsure whether her accusatory tone was towards you or not.

The excitement swiftly falls from your face and you sit up more under the counter. “I… Yeah…” you mutter, avoiding her stare.

“It can’t be,” Althea states matter-of-factly. Her white brows furrow, and she looks away from you. “Can’t be…” she quietly trails off, more to herself than to you. “Green is… can’t be, can’t be. Doesn’t make sense.”

“I think it was green…” you pipe up, voice falling flat towards the end when her piercing black eyes snap to yours. “I didn’t really see the color, it all happened too fast.” It was true, but in your heart you wished it was green. You just wanted Althea to stop acting all fidgety and looking at you the way she did. You held the book in your arms closer to your chest and Althea’s gaze dropped to the movement.

Althea’s body physically relaxed from the tense state it was in, and if you looked close enough, you thought you could see the ghost of a smile on her lips. She hummed, suddenly pleased, “Magic… how enchanting. Have I told you about the White Fawn? Or, the prophecy of Eternal Winter?”

Your brows knitted at the change in her demeanor, but you concluded that it was better to leave it be. You shook your head at her question. “What about faeries?” Althea asked. 

“No,” you responded, “what are they?”

Althea slid to the ground in front of you, a grin pulling her mouth and exposing her teeth. She tapped the book you desperately clutched to your chest with an ivory finger. “Why don’t you take a look?”

You giggled to yourself, letting your arms flow in the harmony of the wind. You twirled and moved your body to the tune of nature—to the sounds of the forest’s edge behind you with its rustling leaves and chattering animals. The crown of sticks and fallen leaves fell down further onto your forehead and you laughed more. You didn’t even notice the single brilliant blue butterfly that landed on it and completed your costume.

If your mother saw you right now, she’d be furious. She had sent you out here on punishment with the intention of having you clean the stables behind the inn. Instead, you were dancing The Dance of Youth and pretending to be the Faerie Queen.

You spent all day yesterday reading Althea’s book on anything magical you could get your hands on, which mainly consisted of faeries and the realm they occupied. The books conjured up tales, legends, and myths of those more than human—people with glittering or colorful skin, wings, horns shooting from their heads, and even human-like versions of some of the animals you were already familiar with. It was completely enthralling reading about it all, and feeling all the magic pour off of the pages made you even more giddy. The magic the School of Pith had was nothing compared to the magic you had read about.

In a kingdom so sunny and full of bloom, A deadly winter approaches to cause mass doom. Drowns the kingdom in layers of snow, And becomes a place where nothing grows and no one goes.

You sang and danced around in the grass, pretending that you weren’t human at all, but faerie. That you were queen and the lands stretching from the edge of the forest to the inn was your kingdom. You wished you lived in Faerie where all the other magical creatures resided. That you and Althea could live there together, happy. Maybe even Kai could join you too. You giggled more at the wonderful thought.

Rustling in the forest drew your attention and you halted your dance. You leaned forward, listening closely and peering at the way the setting sun shined through the leaves, but then laughed at how ridiculous the notion was. Of course there was rustling, it’s a forest. You turned your attention back to the doll propped up on a rock, watching you. “Don’t look at me that way,” you say, twirling once more before making your way over to it.

The doll was a sightly thing made out of straw and sticks that Althea gave to you as a child. After all these years you still had it, and you cherished it deeply—making sure to keep it hidden from Lamia so she wouldn’t toss it out. You could hear her voice now, “A girl born in the summer of the thirteenth year of the King still playing with dolls? How preposterous!”

You hummed, bending down to retrieve the doll. “What an odd thing to say… Why should I find a man to marry in order to rule? I am the Faerie Queen. This is my kingdom, I shall rule it how I see fit!”

Too lost in your own dream-like world, you don’t notice the crunching of leaves beneath boots. “Well, all Queens need a King to stand beside them,” a voice said behind you. You spun in place, clutching the doll to your chest. Kai tilted his head at you, an easy smile playing on his lips. “Don’t you think?” he concluded.

His cloak was covered in ash. He and the other members of the Collective must have just returned from defeating the ash in the area for good. The heat immediately rushed to your face and your mind raced. Kai stood mere feet from you and you were stumbling over your own thoughts on what to say. You stood up straighter, trying to appear nonchalant, “I-I suppose…”

How embarrassing it was to be caught in such childlike endeavors—by Kai of all people! You moved the doll behind your back in an attempt to hide it, yet Kai’s gaze followed the action before flicking back up to your face. Behind him, you saw the rest of the Collective ride up on horses towards the inn, snickering at the two of you. “I see Kai has finally found someone willing to lay with him!” one shouted sarcastically.

Kai’s face soured and he looked over his shoulder at them with a glare before turning back to you. Face softening, he took a step towards you. “Ignore them,” Kai says, “They think they’re funny and they’re not.”

He stripped off his velvet green cloak and gave it a good shake away from where you stood. Ash clouded off of it in front of him, making the two of you cough a little. “Sorry,” Kai coughed, letting the cloak fall onto the rock next to him. “So… The Faerie Queen, huh? What’s that? Does that have something to do with your dance?”

You looked down to your feet in even more embarrassment. “It’s… It’s nothing.” You sat down on the rock that your doll was previously perched on. “I can’t believe you saw that…” you muttered under your breath.

“It looked like fun,” Kai laughed, and you looked up to catch the way his smile lingered as he looked down at you. “You seemed really into it, didn’t even notice me coming up behind you. You jumped like a caught baby deer.”

It was your turn to laugh. “A baby deer?” you asked and Kai nodded. “I guess you could say that, but you scared me!” Kai sat down next to you. He pointed his chin upwards, his eyes on the crown of sticks and leaves on your head. “Is that your crown, Faerie Queen?”

Biting your lip, you took the crown off and placed it in your lap. You toyed with the leaves in it. “You should make me one,” Kai says. You looked up at him. He was much closer than you originally thought he was, his shoulder brushing up against yours making you nervous. This close up you could see all the details of his face—his eyelashes that occasionally rested softly on round, smiling cheeks, and the curve of his plump, pinked lips. And his warm, brown eyes that never left your face. “You know… Queens and Kings and all of that…”

You smiled, looking away from him so he wouldn’t see how flustered he made you. “Really?” you questioned, braving his stare once again. “Yeah!” Kai exclaimed. He leaned closer to you, “Only if you see me fit, though, my queen.”

Kai took your hand in his and bent over to press his lips to the back of it, his eyes flicking up to look at you between his lashes. The action set you alight and you were so sure that Kai could feel the heat radiating off of your body. “I’ll have to put you to the test,” you mutter, barely managing to get your words out. “Only the best can rule with me by my side.”

You felt the vibrations of Kai’s laugh against your skin before he sat back up, his hand still grasping yours. His face was even closer to yours now. All it took was one of you to lean a little closer and your lips would meet. “Well, you’ll find that I am the best of the best,” Kai spoke, lowly. His eyes dropped to your lips and he swayed a little. “Nobody stands a chance against me.”

“Is that so?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Mhm,” Kai nodded. He closed the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he used it to cup your cheek and lift your chin to kiss you deeper. You melted into his touch, your lips moving in sync with his. It was perfect, and the feeling of his soft lips on yours was like heaven.

“Why don’t you show her your magic wand!” a voice behind you and Kai yelled in your direction. The two of you broke apart, yet Kai’s hand remained on your cheek. Embarrassment crept up your neck and you could tell from Kai’s red ears that he was feeling the same way. He turned to where the voice came from, brows drawing together to form another dirty glare.

The rustling in the woods was more prevalent now and both you and Kai’s head snapped to the edge of the forest. Before your ears could even pick up on the growling, a large wolf jumped out from between the trees. Both you and Kai raced to your feet and he held a hand out to guide you behind him. You hugged your doll to your chest in fear. Besides his body being tense, Kai remained relatively calm.

The wolf growled and snapped at the two of you, its sharp teeth piercing the air as spit ran down the corners of its jaw. “Awe, he can’t even handle a single wolf… the Ash is going to smoke him out!” Members of the Collective laughed behind you, but Kai paid them no mind. He guided you slowly backwards and away from the edge of the forest.

Kai quickly glanced back at you and the way you trembled, terrified. “It must be hungry,” he said, focusing back on the wolf. Green swirls of magic wrapped around the two of you. “It probably smells the meat from the nearby butcher’s.”

“It wouldn’t kill us, right?” you asked with a shaky voice, already knowing how foolish the question was before finishing it. Kai looked over his shoulder at you again, his face the most serious you’ve seen it, “Make something scared and it’ll do just about anything to get rid of the feeling.”

Just as Kai turned his head back towards the wolf, it pounced at the two of you. Behind it, more wolves prowled out of the woods, snarling. You barely registered that the harrowing scream that filled your ears was your own before you were pushed to the ground.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for once in your entire life. The members of the Collective who were snickering and poking fun at you and Kai jumped into action, spirals of green emerging from their fingertips. More of them piled out from the inn, along with Lamia. You don’t realize that a hand is grabbing your arm and lifting you to your feet before you’re being pushed out of the crossfire.

All you see is green. At least, at first.

Then, splatters of red cover your vision. The screams and cracking of bones fill your ears and bodies fly through the air. Hot tears run down your cheeks and you close your eyes. Then, there is complete and utter silence.

The silence lasts for a moment before all sound comes rushing back to you so fast it felt like your ears were bleeding. There was screaming and crying and more cracking of bones set into place. You opened your eyes to see that the once green pasture you danced in was covered in red—red so dark it was almost black, and disfigured bodies and torn limbs were everywhere.

You stood up from the mud, eyes scanning through the green in the air in search of Kai. When you found him, tending to one of his members whose leg was missing, you breathed a sigh of relief. He was covered in blood and viscera, but it looked like he was unharmed. Barely taking a step in his direction, nails dug into your arm, bringing about a sharp sting that you were all too familiar with.

Body swinging in the opposite direction of Kai, you came face to face with your mother. Her hand reached up to roughly grab your chin. “What have you done?!” She screamed at you.

You glanced around you, never hearing her this angry before. More tears slid out of your eyes and to the dirt below and you tried to talk around the lump in your throat. You took in the destruction all around you, at the dead wolves that were now being carried towards the butcher who stood a couple feet from you. His voice caught in the air, “...a lamb, yeah.” You looked at how many lives the Collective lost in a sheer matter of minutes—and how it was all your fault. “It… I—” you started.

“You brainless child!” Your mother’s hand striked you so hard across the face that you fell back down to the mud at your feet. “Do you know how bad this is for business? Members of the Collective are dead on my soil!” You held your searing cheek with the hand that wasn’t still clutching onto your straw doll as you looked up at your mother with tearful eyes.

“I… I didn’t m—”

“Shut up. Go. I never want to see your vile face again!” Lamia screamed, her wrinkled face turning as red as the sunset behind her. She pointed a shaky finger away from the inn. You stood up on weak legs, your knees shaking. “But—but, Mom—” you cried.

“Go!”

You gave her one last pleading look before taking off, stumbling over your own feet. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t need sight for the place you were running to. You could find Althea in the dark, bound and soundless, if you had to.

You pushed open the doors of the guild and fell to the floor just in front of the counter, startling Althea and the customer she was engaging with. Your chest heaved and your tears formed a puddled at your scraped and dirty knees. “S-She… They’re all…” Your whole body shook and you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

Althea rushed to you, taking you into her arms and completely abandoning her customer. You caught a glimpse of them from Althea’s chest and didn’t know what you saw… Scaly skin that caught the light before a clawed hand pulled the hood further over their face, maybe? Althea shushed you and rubbed comforting circles into your back. “It’s okay, my owlet, it’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

Love is a very wretched thing. It lets in the rot and the maggots and the ash. But, you still couldn’t help scraping off the corruption and placing it gently in your heart anyway. You couldn’t let go of the thought that maybe it could be beautiful, that it could be worth the cracked skin.

Instead of your usual hiding spot under the counter next to where Althea worked, you were hidden away between shelves at the back of the guild, alone. A book sat open in your lap, but your mind was too distracted to read any of the words in it. You heard the soft pattering of feet along the hardwood and turned to the sound.

Kai stood before you, completely distraught and still covered in blood from the wolf attack.

You waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. You moved the open book in your lap to the side as you sat up. Your lips parted as you thought of something to say. “T-Thank you,” you said finally. “You saved my life.”

Kai’s eyes weren’t the warm brown that they were earlier. Something shifts in them and you swallow thickly. They were cold, lifeless. Kai just nodded and slumped down to the floor next to you. An awkward silence filled the air and you didn’t know what to say to resolve it.

“How did you find me?” you asked in a meek voice. Kai’s eyes shifted over to you from where they looked out the window to the dark sky. “I saw you run here,” he says plainly. “Followed you.”

Silence penetrates the air before he speaks again. “They kicked me out,” Kai says, his lifeless eyes still boring into you. “They kicked me out of the School of Pith.”

Your mouth falls open in shock and you rush to apologize, saying how it was all your fault, but Kai just shakes his head and looks away from you. He’s still in his Collective uniform, but now the light, forest-green of his velvet cloak seems dull and dark. It doesn’t help that it’s now splattered with blood. “I guess it was my last chance.”

There’s no inflection in his voice, nothing to show whether the result makes him sad or angry or even annoyed. His face is expressionless. The only hint to his inner turmoil is the way his fingers pull harshly at the seams of his dirty white pants. The tips of them are reddened, like he’s been at it for a while now.

Kai turned back to you and reached a hand up to gently rub his thumb along your bruised cheek. His gaze then dipped to the book on the floor. “What are you reading?”

You hand the book to him, the page opened onto the legend of the White Fawn that Althea told you about. Kai hummed, “You don’t really believe in all that stuff, do you? This myth?”

“You don’t?” you asked incredulously. “You have magic, but don’t believe in a white deer that brings about luck and fortune?”

For the first time that night, you manage to get Kai to chuckle. “I suppose you’re right…” he trailed. “I might not be the firmest believer in myths and legends, but I do know a lot about them. We learned about them at the school—more things than you’ll read about in any book.”

Kai glances at you and catches the way your eyes light up. A smile pulls at the corner of his lips. The light still isn't back in his eyes—and his smile doesn't reach them either—but, it’s a start. You look at him as if he just hung all the stars in the pitch black sky.

“You want me to teach you?” Kai asks, and you desperately nod your head.

‎ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏  ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏͏ 𐦍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏NEXT ⤇

[ kipo’s note . . . ] wow… a lot happened… you see why it had to be almost 8k words now?? lmaoo i had to set everything up! but tell me how you feel about it all!! what do you think about the faerie realm, or the myths of the forest that watches and the well of life? the white fawn and the prophecy of eternal winter??? lemme know all your thoughts, don’t be shy!!! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺.𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @hyukascampfire @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @usuallyunlikelyfox @blossommi @tinycatharsis

© jjunbug - all rights reserved. do not repost on any social media or sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[thejournallo]

EXPLAIN THE METHOD: Music Time!

Music is a perfect example of manifesting without overthinking, and let me tell you why!

Music is ancient, and it has always been a way to pray, tell stories, and express things—both those we can explain and those we can’t. As a Neapolitan, I can tell you we have songs about everything—literally everything. Even the funicular has its own song!

Music has always been, and always will be, a special part of my life. Over time, I realized that music not only influenced my mood and emotions but also shaped my surroundings and energy. As the years passed, I discovered something even more profound—I had been manifesting long before I even understood what manifesting was.

I started using this knowledge to my advantage by creating go-to songs for specific energies and manifestations.

How do you do it?

In your everyday life, you probably already have songs that make you feel something strong and carry a unique flow. It could be because of the lyrics, the images the song brings to your mind, the confidence it gives you, or even the rush of adrenaline you feel. That energy is exactly what you need to tap into for manifesting.

Create a playlist: Gather all the songs that align with the vibe of what you’re manifesting. Listen on repeat: Play the playlist regularly and let yourself immerse in the energy it creates.

Over time, you’ll naturally begin to associate the visualizations and emotions evoked by the music with your desires. This connection will help you manifest effortlessly, as the playlist becomes a powerful tool dedicated to bringing your desires into reality.

Examples:

There are already many artists who manifest through their songs, and a great example is Ariana Grande. Many of her songs, both old and new, reflect the things she wanted to manifest.

Songs like Focus, Just Like Magic, Successful, 7 Rings, and others clearly embody the energy and desires she brought into her reality.

Vote: This method is a strong 10/10 for me. I absolutely love it—I use it every day and have been using it for years, even before I discovered subliminals.

-xo xo the journallo

[you-know-i-get-itt]

now YOU 🫵 give us the fun facts about the indus valley civilization drainage system 🪠

YES!

i was gonna make several essay posts about the indus valley civilization but the drains can start here:

context: this civilization (also known as the harappan civilization) was roughly from the 33rd century bce to the 13th century bce. for reference, alexander the great was born about 3,000 years after the first indus valley settlements were established

i will talk about other absolutely incredible features of this civilization in subsequent posts, but for now: the drains.

anyone who has more than passing knowledge of the indus valley civilization will almost definitely be obsessed with harappan drains. we cannot shut up about them. hold up here’s a picture:

(source)

harappan drains were typically made of gypsum or limestone, and they were lined with burnt bricks which means they were better (or at least more durably) built than most houses, which were mud-bricked. these bricks were of the same ratio (l:b:h :: 4:2:1) throughout the settlement, which covered a whole lot of ground!! as far as we can tell, the civilization extended to about 1.2 million square miles. also, they were COVERED. BEAUTIFULLY. LOOK AT THE ARCH ON THAT THING. THEY HAD MANHOLE COVERS.

anyway. one thing about the indus valley civilization was its incredibly meticulous town planning, which involved first laying down streets with drains and then building houses beside them. these drain streets were at 90 degree angles and were spaced out very evenly, and every house was connected to a drain through smaller drains in bathrooms, which they had!! people didn’t usually have those, but these guys did!! also, all street drains led to a main underground drain that took everything out of the city. man.

also, this incredibly sophisticated drainage system wasn’t relegated to “elite” parts of the settlement (not that we’re sure they had any in the first place, but that’s a story for another time). as far as we can tell, they were built for the convenience (and sanitary use) of ordinary people. these people prioritized healthcare and sanitation. in 33,000 bce.

also, as far as modern archaeology has discerned, harappa was the first civilization to have had a drainage system at all

i’m realising now that this may not sound very impressive, so here are some contemporary systems for comparison: in the mesopotamian civilization, drains were built with the primary purpose of fending off floods, and they formed a very complicated network that often overlapped and was, uh. confusing as shit. in densely populated cities like ur, refuse was often just swept into the street. ancient egypt had a very well-developed system of canals for irrigation, and there was a lovely system of water engineering, but drainage were usually done through sluice gates (they did have bathrooms too, though! they specifically had toilets built over a shaft that lead to a sewer system that flowed into the nile). keep in mind that the drainage systems of both these civilizations did develop far later in the history of the civilization than they did at harappa

okay that’s it for that rant thank you for listening!! if i’m wrong about anything please please correct me

[angelltheninth]

The Fire in Your Souls

Pairing: Antinous x Maid!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, hallway sex, vaginal fingering, teasing, name-calling, degradation, secret relationship, creampie, plotting a takeover, corruption

Word count: 1.2k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: You know what? That one Anon got under my skin a little. Have some smut with my problematic husband.

When Antinous and his friends started visiting Penelope so many years ago you avoided them like so many other maids in the palace. Everyone knew that the Queen would wait for her husband to return. But no one knew just how stubborn the suitors were, particularly Antinous.

Penelope couldn’t exactly kick them out either so it was up to you and the rest of the maids and servants to make sure they did as little damage as possible. It didn’t help that the Prince had been getting into fights with them recently.

Tensions were certainly escalating. Particularly the one between you and Antinous.

It started with little flirts, glances here and there, his hand gliding against yours when you’d hand him wine. Then it was him grabbing your wrist and kissing your hand to thank you, much to the amusement of other men around him. After that he started hovering around tables you were at, loudly talking over his friends so you heard him more and watching your reaction to his stories. Then it became him waiting for you to arrive so he could take the wine and walk with you, talking to you more and more, getting into your personal space.

After that came the kisses in hallways. They were sudden, rough, full of his lust and pent up rage. Not at you, at Penelope, at Odysseus, at Telemachus. He hated that whole damn family. You should have hated him too. But the more you met with him in secret the more you wanted him, the more of yourself you gave to him, let him take and take, as much as he wanted.

“Much rather you be my Queen when I take the throne.” He stated while he shoved his tongue down your throat and grabbed you by the hips, pinned you against the cold wall.

“You’re talking about treason. I can’t let you do that, and you know it.” Despite his words your body responded favorably to his touches. Your hands moved across his strong shoulders, looping around his neck.

“Oh yeah? And how would you stop me? What are you gonna do? Poison my wine? If you wanted to do that you could have. But I think that deep down you like it. You like what I do to you, how I make you feel.” His hand snuck between your legs and cupped your pussy, feeling the slick gathering on his palm. “Such a naughty little thing. Be honest with me for once.”

You gritted your teeth and dug your fingers into skin skin like you wanted to add to the many scars he already had. “You’re right. I could have poison- ah! Poisoned you. When ever I wanted.” Antonius clicked his tongue at your threat before two rough fingers plunged into your pussyhole.

“You’ve got a lot of guts, I’ll give you that. Just the kinda thing I like in a woman. But I don’t take threats to my life lightly, not even from a whore like you. Letting a man between your legs so easily, gripping my fingers so hard.” His lips traveled down your neck, sucking bruises against your delicate skin.

“Not any man. Just you. Just you.” You moaned and offered him more of your neck, one of your legs hooking onto his hip, allowing him to fuck his fingers into you deeper. “Not enough. Fuck me properly or don’t at all.”

“And now you think you can order me around. You need to learn where your place is.” He growled against your neck, but he sounded more amused than angry. His fingers dug into the soft plush of your thigh and kept your leg up on his hip while his fingers did a scissoring motion inside your cunt, opening it up and letting the wetness flow down his hand and onto the floor. “You’re getting your precious Queen’s palace dirty. Let me help you with that. And don’t worry, I won’t tell. I’ll gladly be the one who will punish you for it.”

“Punish me how?” Your voice trembled in anticipation, you already knew the answer. You could feel it pressing against you, hot and throbbing.

Antinous grinned wickedly and sucked his fingers clean of your juices, his eyes looking down at your pussy, clenching around nothing. He shook his head, almost like he was pitting you, mocking you. He probably was. The fucking asshole he was. He pushed his clothes down around his ankles, not that he wore much anyways, always wanting to show off his body, his muscles, the scars that he wore like victory on his dark skin.

He grabbed his cock and slapped it against your cunt, causing it to ache even more every time.

“What should I do to you? I wonder…” He tilted his head as if this was even something he needed to think about. “I think… I think I’m gonna make the whole Palace hear you. That should be enough, for now.”

He hummed as his angry tip was pushed into your hole and was met with soft velvety inner walls.

Quickly his hands grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the sides of your head, making it so you can’t move, so you can’t cover your mouth. Before you could tell him he was being a jerk he shoved his whole cock into you in one thrust. A loud moan tore from your throat in response. “Gods!”

Proudly he smiled and leaned in enough that his lips brushed against yours, barely. His cock plowed into your pussy with force, pushing you onto your toes. “Scram for me. Let your Queen hear the kind of cockwhore she has in her service. Let everyone else know whose cock claimed you.” Antinous bit down at the column of your neck, hard.

You couldn’t stop moaning and chanting his name, your eyes trained on the ceiling just in case you didn’t say any other servant pass by and turn the other way. Best if you didn’t know. “You’re fucking me so good! So much better than fingers!”

“Mhm, I know, I know. I know what sluts like you want. Give you a good cock and you’ll do anything I say. Even keep our earlier conversation a secret. I promise it won’t be bad, just a little takeover, no one has to get hurt. And then we’re rule, you and me. Does that sound like something you’d want?” His words were soft but they sent shivers down your spine. Your brain told you to run from him, that he was dangerous, no good, a bad man. Your body had very different ideas, your pussy clenched around him so hard that his thrusts got even rougher to go against it’s tightness. “Yeah, I knew you’d like it. My pretty slut, my future Queen!”

Your hips met his in passionate thrust, you felt his balls slapping against you, his hands leaving marks, his breath catch as hot seed invaded your womb and planted itself there. “An-tonius!” You arched into him, riding his cock the best you could from your pinned position.

He let his lips fall against your shoulder, kissing it as he carefully slid out of your pussy. His hand returned back down and cupped your pussy, fucking the cum back into you when it dripped down. “That. Stays. In. There.” He announced with every thrust. “Otherwise how will we give Ithaca it’s future royal family?” As he kissed you again you felt a ghost of a loving smile press against your lips. He was still a bad man, but he was the man who conquered your heart, body and soul.

[carolzukii]

Ren hana obsessed

Analyzing ren hana

I've been thinking so much about ren hana this Past days, I just love lots how his character works, the several trauma he got to bare thanks to strade and the way he turned out years after makes so much sense to me!

I'm not a psychology student, but my brother graduated as a psychologyst and I have gotten to know myself better thanks to therapy (lol, still have lots to discover)

BUT THAT'S EXACTLY IT.

When you're going through a traumatic event, or got pass it, is like your mind resets, in an attempt to get over it our mind re-makes a puzzle to keep us alive, is a dramatic way to write about it, but it is true.

In ren case, he already had things to carry in the back of his psyche, the little or non existent love her mom gave him, and the rejection his clan had gotten him through, since he is a human-beast kind, and they got repulsed by humans .

We all need love to "live", to have a motivation, to have a reaction,to grow with tools that we can use in new stages of our lives, but little ren almost had non of that.

So when Strade found him and kidnapped him, he twisted his thoughts into thinking that the pain that strade Inflicted on him for his own satisfaction was love, after all he was the only one ren had, at least we can see his thoughts go that way in btd1 and 2,yet that writting can change lots in gatobob's new game ykmet, but I'm writing this with that I can take.

He obviously got Stockholm syndrome as result of having to stay with stade for God knows how much, and yet left him to die when he was left out to bleed.

In the back of his mind, he knew he deserved it, but did nothing in a shock.

Ren after that, was and felt severely lonely, proof of that is having too much time talking with strangers, and finding solance seeing gore (snuff, strade homemade videos) because it somehow sticked a sense of nostalgia and the obvious morbid liking he had gotten from it firstly because he is not human, and Secondly because his way of seeing things after too much blood, abuse of strade, and assassination sighting ,was a blow to his psyche.

He got to know lawrence, he also knew he had an attraction to blood, and he wanted him to be his new companion, but we stepped in and that's another story.

Our decisions really affect how ren ends making up the puzzle on his mind, letting the feeling of power to guide him, or finding a way he can grow up as a person with a little of help (sadly this isn't canon in tpof as we could see)

The feeling of power.. The rush of having a life in your hands, the excitement and the soft embrace of the voice that whispers in his ear that he won't be hurt anymore.. That he was the control..

Was the only left piece of the puzzle that he needed to find true solance...

In a path filled with blood,but not his anymore.. He is now strong.

Also I have to say if I were to give a psychological diagnosis to ren(this is not exact of course, I'm nota professional, but at least I could imagine what were MY diagnosis before even getting them in a paper, lol)

I'd list him with:

Bpd-Borderline personality disorder

why?, because I think he fears abandonment as a result of what he has been through his emotions just flows if you're not giving him the answer he wants, and the first escene we have in btd2 when he escaped the bar just leaves me thinking, he felt anxious or overthinked about doing the kidnapping or not after we stepped in or he felt like he wasn't supposed to be there (very much the same)

Depression [I can't tell the level of this at all]

(I think is pretty self explanatory)

Anxiety disorder [I can't tell the level of this either]

Ptsd-Post traumatic stress disorder

(I forgot to write this at first, but it is pretty self explanatory, some words and actions we as a player make, trigger him, and makes him to take different actions, from feeling anxious and scared of us, to kill us or hurt us)

And other diagnosis that are derived from lack of empathy, he is very very unstable ofc just as our other beloved psychos ♥️

Oh and anime and anime girls, they're just so cute, I'm pretty sure he has lots of comfort characters >

(well I don't think I wrote something most of the fandom didn't knew, but well.. I think I wanted to share a little of my thoughts even if no one is going to read this lololol, also English is not my first language so writting this is like training, my grammar is ofc not the best sorry!)

[thegreymarveljedi]

The Lucky Twins

(Tech x Reader x Crosshair)

Even without the final poll results it seems that “The Lucky Twins” wins, so here it is!

Idgaf if people say that Crosshair and Tech aren’t twins. In my head they are and that’s all that matters to me this fic so suck it up haters. Anyway! This story was inspired by @techhasmjolnir because they asked for more Bad Batch smut and this lovely idea popped into my head so I hope you all enjoy!

(Also, The comedian mentioned is a rip off of an actual real life comedian cast in the SW universe)

(Divider by @stars-n-spice )

Warnings: SMUTT, oral! (Male and female receiving), threesome, gentle/rough sex, double penetration, p in v sex, p in a sex, nipple! play, spanking, praise! Kink, implied poly! Batch, use of pet names, hair pulling, slightly bratty reader, slight Dom!/Sub! dynamics, over simulation, mild size! Kink, multiple orgasms, squirting orgams (let me know if I missed anything).

Words: 6.5+K (*insert evil laughter*)

It was game night for the boys, the 212th barracks filled with laughter as everyone drank and played games. The Bad Batch was sat around in a circle with Cody, Waxer, Boil, Metric, and a few other Troopers, all of whom were winding down after another successful string of missions. The 212th seemed to be one of the only battalions in the GAR that The Bad Batch got along with, the conversation flowing easily.

(Y/N) sat among the boys, a glass of spotchka in hand as she leaned her head against Tech’s shoulder. She was laughing along with a joke that Boil told as his turn for truth or dare came to an end, Waxers turn to ask next. He spun the bottle to determine who he would ask next and his eyes lit up as it landed on (Y/N).

Waxer turned to face (Y/N), a shit eating grin on his face that only seemed to be even more enhanced due to the alcohol. (Y/N) smirked right back at him, her confidence showing as the rest of the boys waited with baited breathes for the question.

"(Y/N) truth or dare?" He asked and everyone's 'ooooed', even if they knew it was coming. It was no secret that the 212th viewed the Bad Batch’s civilian medic as one of their own, their vod’ika was one of them no matter what.

"I'll stick with truth cause I am not drunk enough to pick dare," she answer and raised her glass, everyone laughing along with her as she took a swig from her drink.

Doing his best to imitate Bale Bill Bar, a famous comedian among clones, Waxer asked, "Name something you'd like to have two of on your bed."

The guys smirked, Wrecker letting out a loud boisterous laugh as they all looked around the room before looking back at (Y/N). She smirked back, downing the rest of her drink before answering with a teasing wink at Crosshair from across the circle, her head nuzzling more into Tech’s arm.

"Twin’s Waxer," (Y/N) answered and everyone laughed including Hunter, Wrecker and Echo, knowing that she was teasing the twins of the squad. (Y/N) looked to Crosshair who was looking back at her with a down right sinful smirk, the toothpick in his mouth falling to the floor. She chanced a look up at Tech, his eyes glossed over as they met hers and a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"I do believe we can arrange that for you darling," Tech spoke up in a husky voice, his hand finding it way to her chin, Crosshair nodding along with him from his place across the circle. The way Tech spoke made (Y/N)’s insides simmer, heat beginning to pool in her belly.

"I believe we can," Cross added, crawling somewhat seductively over to her from across the circle, his smirk never leaving his face. When he made it over to (Y/N), which actually didn’t take long at all, he swatted Tech’s hand away, tilting her chin up to look at him instead, eyes glazed and voice quiet. The rest of the boys groaned, all now regretting letting Waxer ask that question. Said trooper didn’t look remorseful or regretful in the slightest, if anything he seemed very pleased with himself. The others looked to (Y/N), Tech and Crosshair, telling them to get a room or to keep it in their pants.

"All right boys, a room it is," (Y/N) said and winked at them both before standing up, making a show the sticking her ass out and slowly rolling her hands up her body as she went before walking towards the door. When she made it to the door of the barracks she stopped turning a little and looking over her shoulder back to the twins.

“You guys coming? Or am I going to have to play with myself?” She said with a smirk before walking out, swaying her hips teasingly and enticingly.

She could hear the wolf whistling from the 212th troopers as she walked, all of them enjoying teasing her. She could hear Tech and Crosshair scrambling to get up and follow her, both of them laughing as Wrecker whined about not being able to join and Hunter and Echo shaking their heads.

'Tonight is going to be fun,’ she thought as she walked out of the 212th barracks, moving swiftly towards the barracks that the Bad Batch had been allocated to. She heard them before she felt their hands, Crosshair and Tech coming up behind her, both breathing heavily.

Cross wrapped a hand around her wrist and pulled her into him as Tech held her other arm, his opposite hand finding its way into her hair. They stopped her in her tracks , both holding onto her like she would run away. (Y/N) smirked and leaned into their hold, feeling excited yet safe in their arms.

“That was a very dangerous display you put on back their mesh’la. Swaying those sinfully full hips infront of our brothers?” Crosshair said, his voice low and sultry, giving. Teasing smack to her behind as emphasis. Tech hummed in agreement, moving himself forward towards (Y/N)’s neck, eyeing it as a vampire would its prey.

“You should know better than to tease us needlessly cyar’ika,” Tech said, burying his face in (Y/N)’s neck, inhaling her scent and nipping at her pulse point. (Y/N) groaned as Tech marked her neck, his lips feeling so soft against her body.

“It was worth it,” (Y/N) said and she felt Crosshair growl against the other side of her neck, also making his mark there. He bit down roughly, sucking it as he went before licking the mark to soothe it.

“Was it now Ad’ika? Teasing us and putting on a show for others was worth it?” He said and grabbed a handful of her ass. (Y/N) yelped at the contact, not expecting the impact of Crosshair’s hand on her behind.

“It got you guys riled up didn’t it?” (Y/N) said cockily, her confidence after Crosshair’s spank to her ass coming back in full force. She loved to tease the twins, often brushing up against them both even when she didn’t have to or purposely swaying her hips when she was around them. She did that with all the Batch members but for now, she wanted the twins.

“Tsk tsk cyar’ika. You should know better than that,” Tech said again, his tone taking on a dark edge as he pulled on her hair. (Y/N) moaned wantonly at the feeling, the pain only adding to her pleasure. Hearing Tech speak so dark and dirty was making her feel so many things, between her thighs beginning to feel wet and sticky.

“You’re such a dirty girl aren’t you ad’ika? So ready and willing to have two of us with you in bed,” Crosshair said and licked a strip up her neck that was now fully exposed thanks to Tech. (Y/N) groaned, her arms still somewhat trapped between the two enhanced men making it very difficult for her to touch them.

“Please, Tech, Cross, please,” she begged, her confidence slipping away as she was teased by their words and mouths. Crosshair removed his hand from her arm, bringing it around her body to grope at her breasts.

“Oh now look who’s begging not to be teased. Doesn’t feel very nice does it kitten?” Crosshair said as Tech slid his other hand to her other breast, the hand in (Y/N)’s hair staying where it is it.

“I think we should take this somewhere more private, wouldn’t you agree cyare?” Tech asked, giving her nipple a tug through her loose shirt. She had forgone her armour in favour of comfy clothes for the night, not expecting to need it and she was happy she had made that choice.

All (Y/N) did was nod, which proved to be quite difficult with Tech’s hand still gripping her hair. Crosshair gave a growl into her neck in warning, nipping at her ear before whispering, “we need words love. Need to hear you say that you want this.”

“Isn’t it obvious that I do?” She said, a bit of bite in her tone. That earned her another spank to the behind, this time from Tech, his dexterous hands feeling heavy against her ass. Crosshair let out a low chuckle as he watched his twin dole out some discipline to their squad mate. It was a different side that not many got to see but when it came to (Y/N), Cross knew that his brother was a dominant devil.

“Vocal confirmation and consent is required for us to continue cyar’ika,” Tech said as he rubbed the spot on (Y/N)’s ass that he had spanked. He didn’t feel bad in the slightest, a smirk in his lips as he listened to the little gasp that left her’s.

“Y-yes, please let’s g-go back to the barracks,” (Y/N) finally conceded, her confident aura crumbling as she became putty at the hands of these two enhanced soldiers. They both chuckled at her new found desperation to get to their private quarters, both of them equally as eager to ravage her body.

“Then let’s get going Mesh’la,” Crosshair said, placing his hand on her lower back and guiding her hurriedly towards the barracks. Tech relinquished his grip on her hair in favour of holding her neck from behind, massaging the sides subconsciously. (Y/N) groaned and moved with desperation, almost pulling out of the men’s hold but they tightened their hands, unwilling to let her get to far even if they were heading to the same place.

When they reached the barracks Tech pulled away and quickly opened the door, Crosshair guiding (Y/N) in as Tech closed and securely locked the door behind them all.

When the lock engaged, Crosshair immediately pulled (Y/N) into his body and crashed his lips against hers, holding her body close and pulling the air from her lungs. She moaned into his mouth, hands finding purchase in his shoulders as she melted into his embrace. She felt Tech come up behind her and slot himself against her back, his hands running up and down her sides as he kissed her neck. His hands found the edge of her shirt, lifting it ever so slightly so that he could run his gloved hands over her skin.

(Y/N) groaned into her kiss with Crosshair, pulling away and turning her head to capture Tech’s lips. He gave in quickly, turning her around and deepening the kiss, Crosshair taking over running his hands up and down her body. He was happy that (Y/N) had chosen to forgo wearing her standard under armour and full medical kit, both garments hiding her body from them daily. But now, she wore one of Wreckers tops and a pair of her own sweat pants, both articles of clothing loose enough to give the men easy access to her body.

Crosshair took maters into his own hands, reaching around (Y/N) and grabbing Tech’s vibro blade from his belt, neither of them noticing. He smirked and leaned down to (Y/N’s ear, his breath fanning over it making her shiver.

“Don’t move a muscle Cyar’ika,” Crosshair whispered into her ear as he brought the vibro blade to the edge of the shirt she was wearing and with quick, almost practiced movements, cut it perfectly in half up the back.

(Y/N) gasped as she felt the material slacken even more around her frame, the cold air kitting her back and making her squirm. She pulled away from her kiss with Tech, looking over at Crosshair who had a malicious smirk on his face. Tech took the opportunity to maneuver, the shirt off her body, pulling it off her arms and throwing it to the other side of the barracks.

(Y/N) looked at Tech with the same bewildered expression but only received an innocent smile in return. She knew there was nothing innocent about it as she stood topless between the men.

“I liked that shirt”, she whined, pouting like a child as Crosshair once again took hold of her hips and pulled her body into his.

“You don’t need it tonight Cyar’ika,” he said, words conveying an aura of lust, “the only thing you’ll have on your body tonight is us and our cum.” He emphasized his point with a short thrust of his hips against her but cheeks, (Y/N) moaning at the promise in his words. Tech moved to be infront of her again, kissing her cheek and making his way down her body as Crosshair held her still.

“Crosshair is right an’edee. You will not be needing any clothing tonight,” he said, pulling her sweat pants down her legs along with her panties. Crosshair made his next move and removed (Y/N)’s breast band, tossing the offending piece of cloth somewhere into the barraks just like they had done with the rest of her clothing. His hands immediately gripped her breasts, fondling them in his hands and rolling her nipples between his fingers.

(Y/N) moaned at the feeling, her hips bucking slightly before Tech held her in place. She looked down at him, keening wantonly seeing him on his knees in front of her. It was so sexy to see, his eyes looking back up to meet her at he licked a long strip up her pubic mound. It was cleanly waxed and moisturized, something she did at the start of every week. It was more comfortable especially on long missions, no hair to rub against her body or irritate her skin.

“So smooth down here cyar’ika. Did you do this just for us?” Tech asked, pinching her fupa between his thumb and pointer finger. She groaned, knees weak and legs trembling.

“You’re shaking already and we haven’t even gotten to the good part mesh’la,” Crosshair said breathlessly in her ear, one of his hands traveling up to her neck while the other stayed dutifully on her breast, “are you that turned on by us that you can’t help it?” His words were cocky but she had no defence against them, only being able to nod and bite her lip.

Tech pinched (Y/N)’s fupa once more and licked up and down her mound, this time getting closer to her slit. She threw her head back, moaning loudly at the sensations. She blinked, trying to regain her composure but it was being made very difficult by the men sandwiching her between them.

“Words love. We need you to use that pretty mouth and give us words,” Tech said, both his and Crosshairs teasing stopping and waiting for her answer. She cried out, squirming in frustration as she was denied what she craved. She yelped again as Crosshair once again, laid a harsh smack to her ass, heat radiating from where he hit now that it was against her bare skin.

“Y-yes! Yes you turn me on. So much, so so much. Please! Please please I need you both, want to both so fucking bad,” she begged, her words coming out jumbled and slurred as she looked down at Tech. He only smirked and lifted one of her legs over his shoulder with ease, his other hand staying on her hip to keep her steady. Crosshair helped his brother out, using his hand on her breast and moving it to hold her thigh up, making sure she wouldn’t get too tired.

“That is what I wanted to hear,” Tech growled before diving into her pussy, licking and sucking up her juices like a man stranded in the deserts of Tatooine.

(Y/N)’s breath left her body, finally having Tech’s mouth where she needed him, feeling Crosshair squeeze her neck and mark the other side with bites. She was in heaven, having both these hot, sexy men ravaging her body just as she had asked for. And somehow, both of them looked even more handsome in their armour which they were still in. All the batch except for (Y/N) had chosen to stay kitted up, feeling more normal in their armour than in civies.

But now she wanted them to take it off, wanting to feel their skin against hers, run her hands along their bodies like they had done to her. She reached down with one hand and cupped the back of Tech’s head, giving his hair a little tug. All he did was groan into her pussy and speed up his ministrations, sucking her clit into his mouth. She moaned loudly, moving her other behind her to reach Crosshair.

“T-take it off,” (Y/N) mewled, her words almost indecipherable but Crosshair heard her as clear as a sniper shot.

“Take what off ad’ika?” He asked, biting her ear. He knew what she was referring to but he wanted to hear her say it.

“Your a-armour- F-fuck- I want it off. Want to f-feel you,” she stuttered as Tech continued what he was doing, savouring her taste like it was his last meal. His eyes however, remained locked on her face, watching her reactions. He had heard what she wanted, but he wanted her to cum on his tongue first.

“We can do that for you darling. But I’m sure Tech would love to do something else first,” Crosshair said and continued to hold (Y/N)’s thigh up for Tech. The goggled trooper nodded before his intense make-out session with her lower lips ramped up. She felt two of his now bare fingers -when did he ditch the gloves?- rub circles around her hole, teasing her before he dipped them in slowly.

“Oh fuckkkk,” she moaned as Tech’s fingers entered her slowly, rubbing up against her walls.

“Does it feel cyare? Having my vod’ika’s fingers inside you?” Crosshair whispered huskily in her ear, his hand around her neck tightening ever so slightly more. He ground himself against her ass, feeling himself grow uncomfortably hard under his cod piece. Tech pulled his mouth away from (Y/N)’s cunt, his fingers remaining steady in there quest to make her cum.

“Technically Crosshair, I am older than you by a few minutes,” Tech said, his eyes challenging as they looked at his younger brother. Crosshair scoffed, his hand squeezing (Y/N)’s thigh possessively as he glared down at his brother.

“And I’m taller than you therefore I’m older,” Crosshair said defiantly.

“That is not how it works at all and you know this Crosshair. I have explained it to you all many times.”

“Yes well-“

“Okay enough!” (Y/N) said, very annoyed that they had chosen now of all times to have this debate. Both men looked at her slightly bewildered at her tone, Tech’s fingers stoping their movements inside her. She groaned, bucking her hips and glaring down at the genius clone.

“Y-you both chose the worst time t-to have this debate. Tech,” she said, addressing the man on the ground directly, “you have your fingers I-inside me right now and have said that y-you want to make me cum before you take your armour off right?”

“That’s is correct,” Tech said and curled his fingers in a come hither motion. (Y/N)’s head fell backwards against Crosshairs shoulder again.

“Yes,” Crosshair drawled on, even if the question wasn’t directed at him. He knew that they were frustrating her with their bickering, but it was fun to watch her squirm.

“Th-then get to it before I force my way out of here and b-back to the 212th barracks to find someone who will make me cu- ahhh,” Crosshair didn’t let her finish his sentence, removing his hand from her thigh and moving it to her clit, rubbing it furiously. She screamed, feeling her insides tighten around Tech fingers as he began to thrust them in and out of her in time with Crosshairs against her clit.

“You will be doing no such thing you bratty girl,” Crosshair growled in her ear, biting the lobe as he continued to circle her clit with ernest.

“Th-th-then make me c-cum,” she whispered, her voice airy as they worked her body over. She was panting, her breath coming out short as they pleasured her and brought her toward her end.

“We will satiate you darling. Do not worry about that,” Tech added, speeding up his fingers inside of (Y/N) weeping pussy. He watched as her eyes rolled back and her throat bobbed, trying to take it air as she moaned loudly.

“Fuck! T-tech, Cross please,” (Y/N) begged, her legs begin to shake violently as they brought her to the edge.

“Cum for us mesh’la, cum on our fingers,” Crosshair said. His words sent her over the edge along with their ministrations, moaning as she came hard on their hands. The men guided her through her ecstasy, feeling her body convulse as she came down from her orgasmic high.

(Y/N) blinked rapidly, trying her best to come back to reality, both her legs now back in the ground. She no longer felt Crosshairs hand around her neck, instead she felt both his and Tech’s hand against her sides, both of them kissing along her neck and cheeks, drawing her back down to land.

“You did so well for us ad’ika.”

“Such a good girl for us. So tight as well.”

The praise made her whine, her legs shaking as she relished in the attention they bestowed upon her and her body. But now she wanted to feel them, skin to skin and heated bodies against hers.

“Armour off, now.” This time it was (Y/N) who growled at them, hands coming up to pry Tech’s chest plate off. Both men chuckled and stood away from her, beginning to discard their armour with practiced movements. She watched them intently, memorizing every move they made, every clasp, magnet and button that kept their bodies from her.

It’s not like she hadn’t seen them all in various states of undress before, she was their medic after all. But this was different, intimate, hot and heavy, she was seeing them naked for pleasure rather than their physical health. Even with their blacks in, the boys all looked amazing, their physique well maintained for the good of the army.

Her mouth watered as their armour came off, Crosshair moving on to his blacks while Tech still had a few pieces to remove. She reached forward to help Tech, her hand moving to his cod piece and removing it for him. Their eyes met and he leaned in, kissing her lips delicately, as if she would break with any further pressure. But he knew she wouldn’t, she was too stubborn to and she had proven that time and time again on the battle field.

Once Tech’s armour had been fully removed, (Y/N) pulled away from the Kiss, turning to look at Crosshair who had just finished removing his top blacks and had moved onto his boxers, pants discarded first. She watched as he smirked at her and slowly, teasingly, pulled his boxers down his thin yet muscular legs. She couldn’t help but eye his erection as it sprung fee, the hard appendage hanging out and proud waiting for her.

(Y/N) took the moment to approach Crosshair, pulling him in to a kiss by his neck, lips meeting sloppily as her other hand took hold of his cock. He grunted at the sudden contact, not expecting her to be so bold. She pumped his cock firmly, running her palm over the tip and feeling beads of precum dripping down.

“Feel so heavy in my hand Crossy,” she whispered against his lips, running her tongue along her own lips, “can’t wait for you to fuck me. You feel so big.”

Crosshair groaned, the feeling of her hand around his cock something her had only ever had the pleasure to dream about. He leaned forward and kissed her again, this time with more force, making her take a few steps back. She backed him right up into Tech’s arms, the giggled man having removed all his clothing as well.

(Y/N) swapped hands, removing her hand from behind Crosshairs neck and instead, moving it down to his dick. With her other hand she grabbed Tech, jerking him off the same way she was doing to Cross. He moaned, his head falling back as he relished in her grip on his manhood. (Y/N) leaned over and kissed Tech, her lips almost eclipsing his as she did so. He returned her enthusiasm, on hand finding its way into her hair just as he had down before they got to the barracks.

(Y/N) pulled away from the kiss and keened, feeling so well taken care of by these men. She got down on her knees, still between them both and took Tech into her mouth, moaning at the little bit of precum she managed to get off his cock.

“Fuck mesh’la, you do that so well,” Tech said, watching as she sucked him off. (Y/N) continued to jerk Crosshair off while she gave some attention to his brother, being mindful that they both deserved her. She popped off of Tech’s cock and moved her mouth to Crosshair’s, taking the tip in her mouth and sucking on dutifully. The snarky sniper moaned, one of his hands finding the top of her head and petting her hair like massiff.

“So good at sucking our cocks an’edee, feels so good,” he praised her. That praise went straight to her cunt, (Y/N)’s legs clenching together as she took in what they were saying, how they were praising her.

She sucked at them hungrily, pulling them both closer to her so she could take their cocks in her mouth together. Both men groaned at her display, not expecting such a performance but pleased with the outcome. She sucked on both their tips, hands reaching down to fondle their balls gentle, being mindful of how sensitive they could be.

“Fuck cyar’ika!”

“Such a dirty girl you are mesh’la.”

She pulled off them once more, jerking there cocks a little longer before standing up, kissing Tech sloppily before doing the same to Crosshair. When she pulled away from the sniper she was panting, so much running through her head but the main thing was how she wanted them to fuck her, finally.

“Need you both, please. Need you inside me,” she moaned, both men putting their hands on her and feeling her body up once more. They looked to each other and nodded, as if having a silent conversation which happened more time than she could count. It was something the Batch did well, speaking without words and understanding with having to hear any.

Tech took (Y/N)’s wrist and slowly moved her hand off his cock, bringing it up to his lips and laying a kiss to the back of it. It was such a loving gesture for such a debaucherous time, (Y/N)’s lustful grin turning to a soft smile.

“How do you want us love?” Tech asked, eyes blazing with desire and need. But there was also a hint of concern in his gaze. He didn’t want her to get hurt in any way from this, he wanted it to be fun.

“I want you both, together at the same time. Please?” She said looking between Tech and Crosshair. The latter smirked, mimicking Tech’s actions of moving her hand to his lips, placing a kiss to the back of it that was far too delicate for the silver tongued sniper.

“Of course an’edee, we’re going to fill you up so good,” Crosshair said, his words a promise which made her moan and nod frantically.

“Please.”

Tech guided them all to (Y/N)’s bunk, laying down with his head against the pillows and stroking himself with a slight smirk. (Y/N) watched with big doe eyes as he did so, mouth watering at the prospect of finally having them.

“I’m going to have your beautiful pussy while Crosshair has your ass. Is that okay with you mesh’la?” Tech ask and (Y/N) nodded again, moving onto her bunk and straddling Tech’s hips. She was thankful that their temporary barracks were bigger than those on the marauder and had much better cushioning. Crosshair got on the bed behind her, his hands on her hips as he kissed up her back.

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight ass of yours cyare, ruin it for anyone else who dare to even think about you other than us.” Crosshairs words sent a shiver down (Y/N)’s spine, her pussy clenching around nothing as she imagined having them both.

Tech guided (Y/N) to look at him, bringing her head down so that he could kiss her. He did so softly at first before it began to get heated again, his hands in her hair as he moved to hover over his cock. There were no words exchanged as he slowly began to guide (Y/N) onto his cock, both moaning at the relief it provided.

“Fuck Tech, you’re so big,” she whined, pulling away from the kiss and bracing herself against his shoulders. The goggles clone smirked, bucking his hips a little in a teasing manner.

“I’m glad you think so darling,” he replied, voice strained as he refrained from fucking up into hurriedly.

Crosshair has left the bed but returned quickly with a bottle bacta-based lube, squirting a generous amount on his dick. He pushed (Y/N) forward, forcing her down so that her tight hole was visible to him.

“Fuck an’edee, such a pretty little hole you have here. Can’t wait to fuck it up,” he said. Crosshair’s words were filthy, his eyes dark and lustful as he poured line onto her ass. She gasped slightly at the cold sensation but was quickly distracted by Tech pulling her into a kiss. (Y/N) moaned into the kiss, feeling his hips finally meet hers as he sheathed himself fully inside her.

It was a few moments later at (Y/N) felt the tip of Crosshair’s cock again her hole, body tensing slightly at the feeling. She had done it to herself before, using toys that she suck onto the marauder, but this was the real deal. Crosshair and Tech both caressed her sides, coaxing her to relax and the sniper slowly pushed in. (Y/N) let out a drawn out groan, trying her best to relax as instead, focusing on the trooper below her.

“You are doing so well cyar’ika, such a good girl for us,” Tech praised, watching her eyes roll backward as Crosshair continue to push in.

“So tight ad’ika,” Crosshair said, his voice strained. He was almost fully inside of her, Tech lifting her off his cock until only his tip remained inside. She whimpered at the loss though it didn’t last long as Crosshair finally filled her from behind.

She moaned, the dual sensations and the fullness she was experiencing was a whole new level of pleasure that she hadn’t ft before. Slowly Crossshair pulled out and Tech pushed back in, filling her cunt up with his cock once more. (Y/N) couldn’t help the sounds coming out of her mouth, her eyes glazed over and not a thought in her head besides the two men fucking her.

“Fuck yesss, fuck me so good,” she said as Tech and Crosshair set a good pace, one pushing in as the other pulled out, always making sure (Y/N) had a cock inside her. They kissed and nipped at her body as they fucked her, their pace slowly speeding up as they got more comfortable. It was a dream com true for them both, getting to fuck their girl like this even if they were sharing her.

"Does that feel good ad’ika? Do you feel filled up by our cocks?" Tech growled in (Y/N)’s ear, hands on her hips as he thrusted into her pussy. Her head was resting on his shoulder, hands in either side of his head as she tried to move her hips against them both.

"It feels so f-fucking good,” she cried out, not even trying to hold in the sounds that Crosshair and Tech were forcing out of her, “more please, need more- nghhhh.” They both smirked at her cries, both pleased with how pliant and submissive she had become. Their confident, independent little medic was now a whimpering mess between their bodies, all sense of reality being slowly transformed.

"You're doing so well for us. You’re our little barracks bunny, aren’t you an’edee?” Crosshair spoke seductively in (Y/N)’s other ear, kissing down her back as he thrusted into her from behind, one hand in her hair and the other on her ass, giving each cheek a good spank every now and then.

"You were made for us,” Tech said, his thrusts somehow becoming more forceful. His cock was reaching places inside of her cunt that she had only ever read about on the holonet, her pleasure skyrocketing into the unknown places. She could only moan at Tech words, nodding against his shoulder and feeling the tug of Crosshair’s hand in her hair.

"You're such a good girl,” Crosshair said slyly, his voice dripping with sin and desire as he too picked up the pace. (Y/N) moaned and gripped the sheets underneath Tech a little tighter, her lips finidng their way to his neck and biting down, marking him with her own love bites.

Tech grunted, his hands tightening their grip on (Y/N)’s hips as his stuttered, holding her down against him as Crosshair continued to fuck her ass. She screamed, the feeling of both of them inside her at once was pure ecstasy. Up until now they had thrusted in and out at opposite times, one in and one out but now they had taken it to a whole other galaxy.

It also didn’t help that they were above average in their sizes, their enhancement making them larger than most. Crosshair’s body was lean, not much meat on his body but he was quite muscular. A six pack of abs with a smooth chest and a thin silver happy train leading down to his impressive endowment. He was thick, veiny and cut to perfection, his cock heavy though not as long as expected but still longer than average. Looking down a little more, his balls hung low and were ready to burst with his load.

Tech on the other hand was a little more built, his muscles a little more defined in the arms though still lean in the body. He too had a six pack of abs with a prickly chest and a longer, brown happy trail leading to his cock. Tech wasn’t as thick as Crosshair but what he didn’t have in girth, he made up for in length. His cock was long and weeping, veiny like Crosshair and cut as well but it hung a little lower between his legs. His balls hung just as low as Crosshair, full of his seed and ready to fill their girl up with all of it.

"I'm your good girl," she moaned, bucking her hips and trying to encourage Tech to start thrusting again. He did so without hesitation, thrusting his hip in time with Crosshair and filling her up with both their dicks together. It was a tight fit, pure unbridled pleasure for all three, relishing in the warmth of their conjoined bodies.

"So dirty. You enjoy having two of us don't you?" Crosshair said, his grip on her hair still tight and painful but pleasurable all the same. (Y/N) could barely nod in acknowledgment to his words, to wrapped up in the sensation of her nether regions being torn apart.

"I do. I enjoy it so much, mmm-" she moaned, her moan turning into a scream as they sped up their pace even more, skin slapping against skin and balls slapping against each others. At this point they didn’t even care, they just wanted to fill her up, cum inside her tight walls and let it be known to anyone that she belonged to them and them alone, The Bad Batch, that is.

"Can you feel us both? Deep down I know you can. Are we making you feel good?" Tech said, words to tight as her brought one of his hands down to her clit, rubbing hard circles against the sensitive bud. (Y/N) moaned, coming without warning and drenching them with her cum. She was panting as they fucked her through it, not stop even as she became over sensitive.

"So good, It feels so good. I can feel you both so far inside, Keep hitting that spot- ohhh," she moaned, voice hoarse and almost inaudible from how much she had exerted herself.

"She's shaking, can you feel it Vod?" Crosshair said, watching (Y/N)’s legs tremble, running his thumb up and down her spine as he thrusted into her even faster than she thought he could.

"Indeed I can, it feels so good,” Tech answered, tight lipped as he focused on his thrusts, wanting to draw another orgasm from the woman before he came. He wanted to make her cum in his cock again, wanting to feel her clench around him.

"Look at her face, she's so gorgeous,” Tech said to Crosshair, the sniper leaning over as best her could and taking a hold of (Y/N)’s chin to look at her face. Her eyes were cloudy and wide, tongue out and breathing uneven. She was so cock drunk that it made him grin wickedly, their mission accomplished even before they had filled her up.

"P-please, it feels so good,” (Y/N) said, hips bouncing against Tech and Crosshair, trying to entice them to cum with her. She had almost no words to describe how good they made her feel, how full she was and how she wanted them to cum inside her.

"Are you almost there ad’ika? Are you going to cum for us again?" Crosshair said, emphasizing his words with another powerful thrust. Her reached around her body with his unoccupied hand, grabbing at her chest and pulling at her nipples which made her scream.

"Yes yes yes yes please! Please don't stop please!"

And they didn't. Not until they had emptied themselves inside her and she had squirted all over them, both men praising her for the display.

Deep heavy breathing and sweat covered bodies are all that were left, cuddled up on (Y/N)’s bunk. She was content and fully satisfied, scratching Tech’s head and Crosshairs back, both men sighing in contentment. They laid there in bliss, the afterglow of their orgasms making them all feel relaxed.

That’s when the door to the Barack’s opened, three pairs of foot steps making their way in before the door closed again.

“Well well well. I hope you saved enough energy for us Mesh’la.”

Oh shitttt

I hope you all enjoyed this!

Next story is scheduled for January 20th so keep an eyes for that. It will be Wrecker x Reader😈 so if you would like a tag for when it’s up, comment down below!

[agentmmayy]

march + april rotation

it’s gonna be...... may finally posting the march + april rotation playlist. combining these two months since most of the music i listened to in march was off the previous rotation list!

flowers in my hair - calista garcia: sweet, slow, and syrupy. i love this song and how it feels like a breath of fresh air. it’s achingly romantic and has got me singing along and twirling my hair and kicking my feet. though, at the same time it’s so intimate i feel like i’m intruding 

back for more - nia hendricks: the usual type of slow groove beat i adore that makes me want to dance around with the love of my life. it’s just as sweet as the previous one but it feels... lonely. mournful. i’d be dancing but with a ghost

bodybag - charlotte lawrence: this song is so *clenches fist* i am obsessed with how the body bag fills in for the other person in the relationship and holds her when they can’t or refuse to! the relationship is already dead! she’s holding on! in that liminal space between resurrection and burial! also the vocals in this are insane. my favorite part is ‘she’s at the bowery bar, showed you her paper heart’ and then ‘help me hurt and then i’ll come back’ YEOW

gasp of air - lisa curtis: THIS SONG MAKES ME WANT TO SING AND SCREAM ALONG AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS!!!!!!!!! and then the lyrics slapped me across the face. ‘but i’ll stay and such ‘cause i think it’s love enough’ ‘i’m yours enough that i come back’ ‘some water if i’m lucky but i would never ask that much’ ‘what kind of person needs to breathe A HEALTHY ONE I’M SURE BUT THAT’S NOT ME’?????????? 

nothing left to give - BAILEN: ‘i wanna live i’m sick of just trying to survive’ *looks into the camera* anyway. obsessed with this band and how weird this song sounds 

kilimanjaro - dolores forever: this song and the next have me asking how songs can be this good. like. is it crack? is that what they put in these?? the music and the vocals are EVERYTHING it’s unlike anything i’ve heard recently and i’m digging it. then the harmonies?? and the lyrics???? ‘a thousand shards of glass from your silver tongue got me like a shot gun’ the way ‘i was young. you were pure ice and snow’ IS SUNG?????? WTF

labour - paris paloma: this has been my hype song for the past few weeks. the intensity of it still continues to blow my mind. it’s unapologetic and awful. it’s incredible. i felt every lyric in my gut. i don’t want to over explain it since i can’t do the song justice but it’s so brutally honest in describing and dismantling traditional roles placed upon women and girls. the entirety of it is like poking at a wound that never closes, a wound that’s been gaping and bleeding for centuries and it makes me so angry. the visceral reaction i had to the lyric ‘if we had a daughter’ girl i- ouuuuugh. i got sick to my stomach. i was screaming crying throwing up etc etc. anyway this song is a masterpiece. still haven’t recovered from it. also it’s a fucking bop. 

bad blood - trousdale: another banger for the books!! trousdale always delivers these perfect harmonies and this time it’s a fantastic, bitter song but that’s not the only element! there’s indifference and confusion and acceptance! there’s healing! and the repetition of anyway *patcha holding earbuds meme* perfection

all the love - katie gregson-macleod: katie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! how am i supposed to live laugh love in these conditions!!!!!!!! this one is SO SAD. i ache each time i listen to it. it doesn’t apply to romantic love but all other types of love and what happens when you lose it and how you deal with that loss. the grief is so thick it’s almost suffocating but as always the way she sings is enough for it to not be overwhelming. every lyric hits but the combination of her voice with ‘but i’d rather do that in bed alone’ is my favorite  

BONUS: here are a few stray songs that didn’t quite fit in the narrative but i wanted to share them anyway :)

far and wide - WILDES: doesn’t quite fit the narrative, but it’s a good follow up to all the love. it’s toned down more and easier to get lost in, but still woven with the running strand of grief that makes it sorrowful. once again, back at it with the yearning 

ava - famy: this song had me by the throat the first time i heard it in teen wolf and it still does. chewing glass over the switch between ‘this world is primal’ + ‘this world is rabid’ to ‘this world is pure’ + ‘this world is learning’  and ‘my conscious burning, my beastly flaw’ 

[fictionadventurer]

"If the structure of your world ever evaporates, I will still be here."

I think The Q might contain one of the greatest declarations of friendship/love ever.

[kardia-library-official]

On a related note... Remember when I was complaining about how it was so hard to just make Lucas and Terry shut up and get started?

Well, it turns out that Leon and Vishnal have the opposite problem.

The fic I've been working on has at least one sex scene that was intended to be off-page, but I ended up just writing through it because I couldn't prematurely end their interaction even if I wanted to. And who would!?

[sleepymick]

yeah sorry, maybe another hot take, but fanfiction isn’t an exception to negative opinions and critique. hating on it irrationally -or to be purposely malicious- and completely disregarding someone’s creativity and effort is one thing, but expressing dislike for a fanfiction, or the characterization, or whatever it may be, that’s literally fine. are we forgetting how for literal YEARS, there were countless people publicly sharing their dislike for things like “after,” and “50 shades of grey,” and those not literally works of fanfiction? don’t go and harass the author, don’t clique up and bash on the author or their work, don’t make a huge deal of it, and don’t be a downright douche, but do share your opinions on it, and don’t listen to anybody that tries to tell you that you can’t. it’s literally not that deep. coming from someone who has written and published fanfiction several times over the timespan of YEARS, i am 100% aware of the potential of people disliking it, critiquing it, and even straight up bashing it. i’m not posting fanfiction to make my way to be new york’s best fuckin seller, i’m posting it because it’s fun, silly, and an expression of my creativity, and because i like the band/artist/people i’m writing about. i still love writing, i still love said band/artist/people. people are allowed to write whatever the hell they want, and people are allowed to have whatever opinion of it they want to. end of.

[paimonial-rage]

I was thinking about this while helping my friend beta something yesterday like… I vaguely remember that at one time, I felt (punctuation) periods were too harsh. They had a sense of finality about them. They were too loud and vibrant. Commas were more comforting to use. They felt softer and not as exact. And then I look at my writing now and there's nothing I love more than a period. I love how sharp it is. I love its finality.

Like I can't understate enough how much a period makes a statement. Like that's what it's supposed to do, yes, but it's more than that. It tells the audience that what precedes is true. It's a fact. And when you yield a period properly, it emphasizes and highlights what is stated. It stands out. It's final. It has weight. It's such a powerful thing that it's addicting to use.

[paradizetobefound]

I do think games that follow the rp ideas of DE will actually be quite a good development. The thing is. Uh. To do such kind of integration of story and narrative... you actually need to have things to say. And it's a lot of things to say. You must be ready to talk about things at length and do it at different angles. And those things must mean something and you must figure out how to relate it to the game part of the system so even when you have things to say, you must be ready to talk about them and how those things relate to other things and how people feel about those things and and and

Like, it's okay to not have much to say, I do not have lots to say about many many things. But I think this particular approach to integrating roleplay and story is precisely not that popular because it is kinda like writing a book on steroids. Talking to the reader except they are even more of a participant.

[screampied]

#BLOODLINE! s. ryōmen + c. kamo

☆ sum. when they’re both 10s but they’re also vampires. hungry blood-thirsty vampires who’ll stop at nothing to claim you. with how sweet you taste though, maybe humans aren’t so bad after all.

wc. 7.8k

warnings. fem! reader, thrēesomes, vampires! sukuna + choso, pwp, amateur's take on vampires, unprotected, cowgirl dp, manhandling, spīt-roasting, biting, dumbification, size kinks, fighting over you, brēeding kink, mentions of bloōd, implied marathons, fīngering, squīrting, pussydrunk men, cunnīlingus, hair pulling, choking, mistress kink, petnames.

➤ kinktober mlist!

this was crazy - no, this was insane.

not everyday do you have a century plus old vampire between your legs — a vampire who you were actually supposed to exterminate for a pricey reward that was held over his head. both heads. but oh, you were so screwed. not even three days in of getting your official vampire hunter license and you already failed.

rule number one stupid girl: never fuck the vampire. rule number two: never fuck the vampires, plural.

but, you had a scent on you. an alluring fresh scent that made the sukuna ryomen fall weak to his knees. the fragrant—whatever it was smelled very lush with a sprinkled spice of vanilla. it irked him badly, and what irked him the most was the simple fact that he was feeling quite . . parched.

he’s starved, and it’s been a while since he’s had a quenched thirst and satisfied appetite. vampires usually had it rough—especially sukuna, because he’d usually spend most of his years hibernating, and he could live without blood . . for a certain amount of years before he comes well, feral.

but that all changed until you came along, and long story short—here you were sprawled out over his throne with your legs wide open.

“woman,” he snarls, buried right between your thighs. sable honed claws gingerly caress against your skin before his long tongue drags itself out of your pudgy folds. “spread your cunt f’r me before i bite it off.”

“what if i’m into that?” you sheepishly hum, feeling a tear of sweat trickle down your quirked brow. but right as you let off your cheeky remark, a big hand swats at your sopping entrance hard, earning a whimper from your mouth. so wet, your squelches ring through his rusted victorian walls.

sukuna snarls at you, crimson ruby eyes boring into your soul practically before with a sobbing creak, his chamber door opens. the hinges were whining as it unbolts and peeked out was whom you assumed to the other vampire, kamo choso.

you did research on them both—especially choso.

even though both of them were classified as dangerous notorious special grades with huge bounties placed on each of their heads dead or alive, choso was worth far more. you always did want to know why though.

he’s even prettier than person. choso was dressed in nothing but dark toned yet elegant dim clothing. both of their styles were strictly victorian-esque. choso’s hair was slightly matted and down, flowing past his tense shoulders. as unkempt dark strands went through his eyes, it created an attractive a shaggy wolf cut look. “oh,” he timidly murmurs, his eyes averting toward sukuna then at you.

a human,

his heart started to race and he could feel the inside of his mouth salivate with a minuscule amount of water. choso openly stares for a lengthy amount of seconds before nibbling on his tongue with his fangs. with the way he scoffs under his breath and how his body language grows stiff — you can tell, he’s jealous.

“am i .. interrupting, sukuna?”

sukuna groans internally, his tongue still attached to your swollen clit. you were close—he knew it from the way your breathing patterns started to grow irregular and you were struggling to stay still. as your feeble fingers resume to spread your soddened folds further apart for him, he slurps you clean, making all sorts of sloppy noises leave from his think pink lips. “mhm,” and he gives his comrade a side eye. “c’mere, choso. greet our new meal—eh, special guest.”

choso’s gaze never leaves yours, and as he tucks his head underneath his cape, he kneels down beside sukuna. “h- hi,” he swallows thickly, trailing his bloodshot irises that dramatically dilated each second he spent staring at your body.

god, were you pretty.

“hi ch— fuck,” you moan, feeling sukuna’s fangs delicately brush near your cunt. it almost tickled but you weren’t laughing, and your thighs were on the verge of snapping shut. choso stands there, watching as his own whetted fangs dig into his pouty bottom lip. “choso, do you wanna try too?”

“can i?” he blurts eagerly, but he gets flustered the second he sees your lips curving into a soft smile. after all, embarrassment was always his best friend.

choso’s kneeled right beside sukuna and he has an almost scowl marinating against his facial features. with a grumpy glower, he’s watching his partner act so greedy. the pink haired vampire’s got a chin that’s just streaming with slick and he can’t help but pout.

it’s probably been decades since he—since they encountered a vampire hunter, and now you were here. not only that, but choso was the entire opposite of sukuna. he doesn’t know the first thing on how to please a woman. “i mean . . is it okay, miss?”

sukuna snickers, briefly breaking his lips away before strumming a fat thumb down your drooling slit. “tch. such a wuss,” and his reddened gaze meets yours as a sly smile twists across the crevices of his lips. “excuse him. he’s a bit, heh, inexperienced.”

“that’s not—” it was, and choso lets off a cute frustrated huff but his demeanor softens the moment you claw a hand through his slightly matted wolfcut. dozens of loose tresses twirl between your fingers and he lets off a quiet purr, leaning into your touch. “mhm,” and he looks up at you—then at your pretty swollen cunt that was just pulsing second after second.

so pretty, it almost looks like a flower. easily akin to a vanilla orchid—he found himself about to drool the more he stared. choso was just millimeters away from a single taste and he couldn’t help but moan once he abruptly got a strong whiff of your candied balmy scent.

“it’s okay,” you murmur, trailing your middle finger down his tender scalp. sukuna’s right beside him, rolling his eyes whilst licking his spit-slick lips. as you remain slouched on sukuna’s primeval throne—your legs sprawl out just a bit wider and you bite your lip. “give it a little kiss.”

“y- yes, miss,” choso utters, and your eyes flicker down toward his lips. perfectly shaped—they have somewhat of an almost natural pout as they purse together—rosy pink and quivering in anticipation.

as he moves his face closer between your legs, you let off a gasp once his plump wet lips gradually smooch against your clit. “hng,” he groans, the sap of your own slick stringing against his mouth. choso can’t help but sneak his tongue down your pulsating clit for a better taste and oh, the way his eyes rolled back. “s- so good.”

sukuna clicks his tongue, growing impatient as his sharpened claws dig into the thin wooly fabric of his burgundy-black cloak.

“that’s it—good, yeah,” you softly coo out, tightening your grip against his head just a little.

choso had no clue what he was doing and it was adorable. his tongue was just as long as sukuna’s, mirroring the same forked-like shape. the softly spiky texture makes you squirm and writhe, feeling pleasurable twinges surge all throughout every inch of your body.

“fuuckk,” you gasp, feeling him suck against your clit. it’s overly sensitive, and he moans, feeling you throb right in his mouth. “mhm, suck there. right there, baby.”

baby, he wasn’t used to such words of affection. petnames, what you might call it. choso’s pointed ears cutely twitch and his nose wrinkles the second his sucking steadily intensifies. “mpmh,” and you can feel him taking a few seconds to sniff against your cunt once more.

“he gets off to being praised,” sukuna huskily jabbers, watching choso turn absolutely pussy drunk within seconds. you could tell just from his expressions alone. that sly yet sleazy grin compressing near the corners of his mouth, hooded eyes and drooling profusely from the sides of his mouth—

yeah, he was entirely weak. weak for you.

as his tongue slowly massages its way between the cracked slit of your pussy, he feels your grip in his hair tighten. “does he?” you utter, and you can hear a shuddering breath leave from choso’s mouth.

he swallows thickly again, wondering when the part was gonna come. the part where you’d finish your job, your mission—out of all the vampire hunters he’s stumbled across, he’s never been between one’s legs . . let alone being spared.

but he wasn’t complaining, not at all.

“mhm,” the older vampire sukuna grumbles, teasingly wrapping a hand around choso’s broad neck. choso moans from his touch too, and sukuna brushes a thumb down the valley of his sensitive scalp. “he can’t help it. praise him once and he’ll finish right on the spo—”

“s.. sukuna,” choso glares, still having a mouth full of your cunt.

the squelches you made from each succulent suckle was quite loud, constantly reverberating through the ancient chamber walls. but oh, your taste was simply divine. unlike any cuisine he’s ever tried. choso would rate your pussy five stars if he could.

you’re so wet — sopping a pretty cascading stream that flows down his chiseled chin to where he’s literally just drowning in your cunt. choso was a quick learner though, despite having little to no experience.

a raw breath rips out of your lungs once you feel your thighs grow weak. his tongue extends a bit inside of your cunt, curling it’s way around and in zigzags to make your toes curl in surprising rapture.

“f- fuck, like that,” you whimper out, and suddenly a dark silhouette overshadows you. slowly, your eyes look up to see sukuna standing right over you with a cunning toothy leer.

your eyes rove down his dark cloak that covers his body entirely, although you couldn’t help but want to see more.

like mentioned before—you’ve done your research about them both. as a vampire hunter, it was well, required.

sukuna had to be over a few thousand years old with choso not that far from behind. “silly, silly woman,” he tsks with a taunting head shake.

sukuna cups your chin and you moan once choso’s hooked nose starts to brush up and down against your clit.

you meet the eyes of a blood-thirsty vampire who’s got the most smuggest grin you’ve ever seen. “you know,” his voice seductively pitches low, and the rough bass that smooths underneath his tone makes you feel a wave of butterflies swarm near the pit of your stomach. a thumb swipes against your glossed lips before he bends, getting right close to your face level. “usually, this is the part where you kill us, you know that, right?”

“i—know,” and for a second, you nearly let off a mewl once you feel choso’s fangs softly nip against your tender cunt.

you were throbbing heavily, and he’s just slobbering all over your entrance just to lap it right back up back with his tongue like the feral animal he was.

it was cute how conflicted you were — your eyes didn’t know where to look, whom to focus on, nothing. .

even so, as your back remains reclined back against the timber-made throne, your brows furrow. he’s right, moments ago you should have pulled out your stake or firearm, getting rid of them and collecting quite a delicious sum of bounty for both of their heads - dead or alive.

but, as the thought struck you — why, why didn’t you finish them off. what’s stopping you?

you didn’t know, and quite frankly, you didn’t care.

besides, it was technically only the first few days of your new job and something internally was screaming at you that this probably wasn’t your right field of expertise anyway.

and the fact that the ‘target’ you were supposed to eliminate was propped up between your legs was . . something.

hell, maybe it was even a sign.

“oh, i see,” sukuna huffs, sliding a thumb across your pursed lips, wanting your pout crease more. cute. “you want more, that right, stupid girl?” a rough voice purrs out to you, and he can see the pout starting to form over your lips once you give him a slow nod. “yeah, yeah you do,” and he looks down at choso who’s got his pretty flapping lashes closed, sliding a hand inside of his cloak.

he’s groaning against your cunt, stroking himself off and whimpering against your folds that sobbed for more. sukuna cups your chin, pressing your lips together. “i don’t speak nod. use those words, tell me what you want.”

“y.. you both,” and it comes out like a lewd broken whisper. by this point, you were shameless. it’s almost as if you were in a dream—maybe even a fan fiction.

as those fatal words leave from your lips, your eyes roll back once choso’s continuing to slurp against your cunt - savoring each honeyed drop of your juices. he’s still on his knees as his pointed ears twitch from each whine and mewl that pours away from your lips.

sukuna groans under his breath, feeling himself get hard as he takes a few occasional glances.

choso’s face was right up against your pussy, and he made sure to run and trace his tongue in every single spot that would make you sing out pretty ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’'s for him. he’s craved a good meal for the longest and the meal between your thighs was all that he really needed.

“greedy girl,” sukuna grouses, lightly squeezing your chin, making you give him your attention back. ruby red eyes flicker toward your exposed nude neck — such precious skin all out and on display, a vampire’s favorite part of the body.

the thoughts of imagining what you tasted like from just a single bite clogged his entire brain. just a single drink of you - just one would have him probably at your mercy - no, he had to focus.

sukuna shakes his head with an annoyed grunt, pressing his head against yours as you lied back. “both, huh? can you really handle that, princess?”

“yes—”

“look at me when you speak, girl,” and you feel an overwhelming increase of thumps in your heart once he’s only inches away from pressing his lips against yours.

the eye contact was brutal - sensual.

his eyes lock onto yours and it’s as if you’re staring directly at a pool of bloody scarlet jewels. you could honestly get lost in sukuna’s eyes. such irises never leave yours and you gulp, looking him right in the eye before watching choso starting to bite near your thighs. “repeat yourself, go on.”

with a shaky voice, you drag choso’s head closer between your thighs before whining once he glides his forked tongue against your throbbing pearly nub. “i want you both. p.. please, wan’ you both.”

and the last thing you’d expect was for them to be eating you out — at the same damn time.

both vampires were propped up between your legs as you’re spread open with the cutest expression plastered on your face.

god, this was fucked.

as two forked tongues flick and swipe against your clit, nibbling on your tender gummy flesh, you let off the most melodic whine. it rips straight out of your throat, bouncing off the century old walls. the texture of both tongues — you felt the plush spikes that run against their tastebuds, feeling sukuna hold your nub hostage with choso trapping his your pretty clit with his fangs.

“fuck, ‘m so c- close,” you’d whine out, staring at them both as they’re between your legs with hazy blown pupils. both of your hands fish through their hair, gasping heavily once they start to slurp nearly everything out of you at such at maddened pace.

it was one thing with teeth — but they had fangs, and they both made sure you felt the keen edges against your sopping cunt every single time.

“mmph,” choso mewls out, wrapping his mouth around your slick entrance. sukuna’s only a few kilometers apart, and the older vampire grunts once he tries to push him away. with pouty glossed lips, choso gives your clit a kiss before briefly departing. “ ‘kuna,” he huffs cutely, and you watch as his chin has an even shiner coat of your arousal racing down. “you’re bein’ greedy..”

“good,” sukuna jibes, and you whimper loudly once his long tongue trails further down. it stops right once it reaches your winking hole. it was so long, it located places you didn’t even know could be reached. a fluttering feeling settled inside the very pits of your stomach before he spits on your cunt.

it’s a rude ‘pft’ and you watch as a syrupy strand dribbles down onto your heat. choso’s lip quivers as he stares too, going back to touching himself.

he rarely touched himself — but when he did, it always felt heavenly. “cho,” he grouses, smearing a fat thumb against your cunt that’s soaking up the dribbling saliva. “clean her off for me.”

choso’s eyes widen. but he was too feral to reply, and as if his lips had a mind of it’s own, he leans in and let’s his mouth do the rest of the talking.

honey, your taste was almost equivalent to honey. choso whines against your clit as he drinks you clean, the soddened pure taste of you never departing from his tastebuds. he shamelessly laps up sukuna’s saliva that pours down your pudgy wet folds before softly thrusting his tongue in and out of your cunt.

“fuck,” you moan, feeling your legs starting to spasm. sukuna goes back between and they’re both latching their pink pointed tongues against your tender muscle. you even watch as their tongues touch, getting tangled together and all. choso grows flustered and sukuna’s for the same sly smile on his lips, teasingly licking near choso’s bottom lip before going back to your pussy.

squelch, you were so wet . . profusely drooling. with how wet you were, you were putting faucets to unruly shame.

your thighs were covered in various marks and as they both shared the same pussy drunk grin, that’s when you finally snap.

right when the tip of sukuna’s forked tongue rudely thwacks against your sweetened g-spot, you end up gushing out right away. it creeps up on you like a jump scare, hitting you like a truck, an inevitable wave that came crashing down without warning.

“fuck, ngh oh my god!” and as you’re coming undone on their tongues, you were holding in a breath you didn’t even know you had.

seconds later as you gradually let go, your tummy’s continuing to heave from each exhilarated pant leaving from your lungs. with hooded eyelids fluttering, you end up spraying a sweet amount of sap onto the bottoms of their chins. sukuna snickers and choso quietly gasps—

“my my,” sukuna hums, licking his tongue underneath his bottom lip, savoring the taste. “so the human’s a squirter also, interesting,” and you couldn’t my stop panting.

your orgasm was loud, and it rang through each of the ancient walls that were so old that they were on the verge of crumbling down after centuries of standing tall. your own voice nearly shatters the victorian mirrors as you leisurely succumb into awaited pleasure, releasing your grip from their heads. you glance down and see sukuna already staring at you, giving your cunt one final kiss. “cute, think i’ll take my time with you, princess.”

choso pouts, panting himself as his tongue licks near the crevice of his lips. “y.. you mean us, ‘kuna.”

sukuna rolls his eyes with a grimacing scowl. “eh, right.”

many moments later — once you’re lightly thrown on sukuna’s king sized bed, you gulp.

now you were fucked.

they were more hungrier than ever, especially choso. the taste of your sweet cunt still lingers and his mouth, on his tongue—and he only imagined how sweeter your sacred blood must be.

“choso, watch me,” sukuna gruffs, and you let him flip your body over. landing into the cushions with a soft ‘oof’ your cheek gets pressed against a velvet pillow. “humans are fragile, so you don’t wanna break ‘em too bad,” and you moan once his hand swats against your bare ass. the recoil makes your entire body tense and you chew on your lip, quietly wishing he’d spank you again.

you weren’t really wearing anything except for maybe a black skirt that was now torn to practical shreds and a blouse that was halfway raised toward the top. as sukuna shuffles a bit, he springs out his thick cock and oh, you could tell he was big just from hearing the stroking sounds from behind you.

he grunts, giving his veiny shaft a few ample pumps before aligning himself against your swollen entrance. “look at herrrr,” he purrs, spreading your cunt apart with two fingers as your ass arched upward.

you were still drenched with your panties clinging toward the gummed crevices of your thighs. right as he toys with your dilating clit, he can hear the sloshing sounds make it’s return before darkly chuckling. “eager, isn’t she choso? her pretty pussy’s tryin’ to talk back. how quaint.”

“sukuna,” choso pouts, pushing him off. “let me, i know how to—” and he pauses, his eyes intently gazing at your pulsing cunt.

he was still so hungry. he just wanted another taste. just one more slurp of your slick and he’ll be satisfied. his thirst would be quenched. choso shakes his head, letting off a shaky sigh. “i know how t- to fuck.”

“he doesn’t,” sukuna mouths to you in a cocky manner, getting in front of you.

the pink haired vampire stands near the edge of the bed, a hand cupping underneath your chin. “it’s okay, you can look,” he smugly says, feeling your eyes burn into his weighty length that’s standing tall.

the shadow that’s underneath it makes it appear even bigger, and oh, it’s not just big - it’s huge.

sukuna’s very thick with insane amounts of girth for days, and your eyes slowly flicker toward his pretty tip that’s swollen. spurts of pre-cum seeping from his frenulum and you can’t help but give his tip a few greeting kisses. he sucks his teeth at the audacity, wide jaw tightening at your tender touch. the more you stare, you notice he’s got a bit of pink hair that curls it way around his fat base, almost forming a bush.

it’s unintentionally attractive, and you even found yourself gawking at his shaggy happy trail too. “touch me more, woman,” he utters, as if he read your mind. his rough tone getting a bit softer. “go ‘head.”

as you wrap a hand around his cock, you can hear choso’s sweet whimpers in the background. “oh, my,” and his sweltering hot tip’s just ghosting against your yearning slick entrance. you let off a hum, teasingly wriggling your ass a bit just to get a reaction out of him and you did. “ugh,” he moans with an needy hiss following, sliding his flushed crownhead against your swallowing cunt. “kuna she’s gonna m- make me cum.”

“thought you said you knew how to fuck?” sukuna titters, ogling as you slowly bring your plump lips up to his shaft.

with a grumble, choso kisses his teeth. “shut up,” and as his dick aligns itself between your swollen folds, he lets off a breathy sigh. “fuuuck,” he could feel you wholly trying to swallow him as he eases his way inside.

right there, choso felt a chill run down his spine. you were warm inside, and it makes him gnaw a fang down his quivering lip once his lengthy inches rummages farther. “hng, ‘s so good, she’s so wet, ‘kuna,” he murmurs in a soft tone, his words that slide past his lips shaking from each breath.

hearing your own moans leave from your lips makes him harder. sukuna grunts, watching as you press another chaste kiss against his mushroomy tip.

lustrous strands of pre-cum stick against your lips and he groans, tight abs that hid within the inside of his cloak tensing right away. “that’s it, ‘s all yours, princess,” and a hand of his paws it’s way onto the top of your head. once his dick starts to slowly disappear in your mouth, he lets off a near growl. whitened fangs poke from the outer parts of his lip before he feels your moan vibrate against his shaft. “mhm, atta girl. get it wet, spit on it.”

“hah, ‘m not gonna last,” choso breathlessly huffs, and with his hands gripping on both sides of your waist, he’s starting up a pace. it’s a slow pace that you could keep up with in terms of rhythm, but fuck was he big too.

choso had just as much of girth as sukuna did, maybe even more.

he’s stretching you out with just a few beginning thrusts and your eyes already widen. “mpmh,” and as your mouth’s full, cheeks all puffed from storing sukuna’s cock inside, you pull it out to allow a bit of drool pout from your lips and onto his tip.

the vampire flashes you a wolffish smile as his fingers softly massage down your scalp, his claws gingerly stroking against your tresses. your back was arched to a sudden with your body slightly raised, facing sukuna whilst your rear was focusing purely on choso.

sukuna studies your body, your pretty face, your fluttering flapping lashes, your tight tight throat that’s making lewd noises every once in and while, but most importantly, he studies you.

it doesn’t take long before his fat cockhead starts to create ‘love’ taps against your uvula. your eyes widen and you let off a tiny gargle at feeling him reach the roof of your mouth within no time, clawing your own hands into his beefy thighs.

“such a tight ‘lil throat for a pretty human,” he grunts, feeling you pop out his cock to lap up the remnants of your saliva.

choso’s still plummeting into you from behind, giving you soft sensual strokes yet they soon turn rigorous and deep once he feels your ass slam into him. once your skin goes back against him, that was merely all it took for him to lose it. it makes his ears twitch even more—and he whimpers, falling on love with your cunt right away.

it’s sloppy. already, you’re starting to stick and glue against his chiseled pelvis each time you rut back into him. choso’s hips were downright filthy, and it only takes him a few minutes before he’s meticulously drilling into you at full speed. his cock’s precise, making sure to hunt and search through every part of your cunt with his aching tip.

“fuck,” he hisses, a sweaty palm of his giving your right ass cheek a squeeze. as he grabs a nice chunk of your ass, he can’t help but spank it.

but he feels bad afterwards so the sting shortly goes away once his palm caresses a few circles against your hot temple.

the recoil of your skin always mesmerized him - he found himself in a trance every time. simply put, you had him enticed.

choso moans again, feeling your warm body rock back into his at such an unsteady pace to where he’s stammering over his words. “s. . so pretty.”

“the inside of her mouth’s even prettier,” sukuna sneers, and with a loud ‘pop’, he removes his dick from out of your throat.

you pout, lolling out your tongue without him having to say anything and he hums in patent amusement. “ain’t that right, princess?” and with a whack, his fat meaty tip slaps against your pink tongue.

you moan, and he slaps his flushed cock against your tongue three more times just to hear you whine for him to finish. “fuckin’ hungry, are ya, ‘lil hunter? you didn’t care about bounties, you just cared about gettin’ your sloppy cunt wet, huh.”

“mmph—sukuna,” you mumble, your words nearly inaudible once he rubs his leaky tip against your lips. his tip’s so fat and swollen as a rosé color shades over it from top to bottom. just a few seconds of him being out of your mouth and you were already drooling for more - literally.

choso’s breathing starts to pick up the longer he’s giving you such rough pivotal thrusts. you could feel him practically humping his weak hips into you, and he’s sniffling because he can’t believe humans felt this good inside.

“aw, are you mad, little human?” sukuna gruffly mocks, tracing a thumb over your arched brow.

the scowl that indents between the corners of your lips was adorable. “heh, how spoiled you must be. fine. open your mouth again,” and he views as you quickly comply, sticking out your tongue with your hands grabbing your neglected breasts that hid beneath your bra. “good girl.”

this merely lasts for a century — not really, but it felt like it.

lightning like veins ran down sukuna’s cock and you felt them prod against your tongue, meanwhile choso’s almost hysterical once he ends up dumping ribbons of cum into you. early at that, and he’s never been more embarrassed.

choso fucks you for a long while, and it’s until his thrusts against you becomes insignificantly sloppy and he’s overflowed your cunt with ropes of searing hot cum. it’s so much that it dribbles down your thighs, spritzing all on your clit and gluing against your skin like paste.

“ngh, f- forgive me,” he’d whine, peering as sukuna’s finishing up himself.

with a feral growl, he’s fisting his cock just a few more times before it’s his turn to finish now. you got filled in both ways, and once the bitterly sweet taste of his seed mists into your mouth, you let off a moan. “good . . good girl,” choso rubs the back of his neck, trying to mimic sukuna’s praises he did on you earlier.

you’re still on all fours and your eyelashes flutter as he’s continuing to spill out such slimy amounts of cum. the taste has a bit of a sugary tang that makes your nose crinkle. “swallow,” the older vampire murmurs, a long black claw of his softly caressing the edge of your lip.

a few droplets dribble from the corners of your lips once you obey, moaning once you feel choso unhurriedly pull out. he’s slow, feeling his chest heave out with a heavy sigh as your cunt let’s out a loud ‘pop’ after he gradually takes it out of you.

his tip was throbbing, and as he stared at his own cum oozing out of your swollen pussy, he can’t help but run a finger down it. you feel yourself clenching around nothing now and you can’t help but pout.

“tch. where’s your manners, woman,” sukuna raises a pink slit brow, grabbing your chin. your lips still remain pouty due to how much he’s squeezing against your plump lips together and you let off a whimper.

crisp air sets against your bare ass and skin as you meet his carmine-red gaze. “you’re supposed to say ‘thank you’ for the meal. go on.”

“t . . thank you, ‘kuna,” you softly snivel, feeling yourself pulse the more choso runs his finger down your flabby folds. he’s touchy, his fingers felt hot and shocking like static - and the more he maneuvers tiny circles around your clit, the more you felt your knees starting to grow weaker again.

“hn.” is all he replies with, and just when you thought they were finished — they weren’t.

you said you wanted both of them, not just one but two. and you know what they always say, the more the merrier . . right?

but it’s a bit different when the ‘merrier’ involves two ancient cocks.

to say you got stretched to the very fullest was merely an understatement. they each took turns with you, round after round after fucking round . .

your legs felt practically nonexistent, and every time they’d dump a knot into your sweet cunt, you’d feel like you were about to burst. round after round after round, they’d coax out orgasms out of you like it was nothing—especially sukuna.

choso was the one whining in your ear, whining even louder than you sometimes. he couldn’t help it, especially with how good your pussy wrapped around his dick so freely. it was a feeling he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced—and if he did, it was a long long time ago anyway.

but now, you were preparing to take them both at the same time. the thrill of the thought alone makes your thighs shudder as sukuna’s sinking his thick cock into you. already, he feels you gaping and you can’t help but moan at the elastic stretch unfurling wider and wider. .

the pink haired vampire was propped behind you while choso’s lying flat back against the sofa. it’s a pretty view, and choso’s staring right into your eyes. your pretty eyes—he’s never been one to lust over a mere human, but it was just something about you. with you, it was different.

sukuna on the the other hand—he couldn’t really care less. he’s centuries old and it’s been what, a decades since he’s got laid? it was just who he was - but he wouldn’t mind keeping you around for a while.

for centuries, the two of them lived their tedious lives inside of what appeared to be some kind of abandoned castle—you actually ended up stumbling upon it in the forest by accident while looking for them. the vampires you were supposed to kill, and yet here you were, about to be double stuffed by both of them.

“nice ‘n easy you two. biiiig fuckin’ stretch,” sukuna gruffs, wrapping a big hand around his hardened cock.

it’s flushed and veiny from the rigid sides, florid from the crowned tip with a ruby shade as he’s still getting over his recent orgasm. you’re sopping, your cunt’s crying for more and the sloshes that sang out from your folds only grew louder the more he’s burying himself inside of your gummy pasty walls. “choso, you’re not gonna faint again, are ya?”

“s- shut up,” choso grumbles, a rosy tiny spraying a half part of his face. as choso aligns himself between your entrance also, he let’s off a low sigh at the welcoming squelch your pussy make.

‘pop’ and fuck, could he listen to that all day. just the sloppy noises you made—to him, that was music in itself. “god, ‘m still so sensitive, m- mistress.”

with a sheepish hum, you cup both sides of his face, speaking in a teasing tone. “mistress?”

“i—” choso pauses, a vermillion flush spraying over his entire face. fuck, his words slipped, and he’s felt that wave of embarrassed returning right away.

it was adorable though, and as you continue to bare around both of their cocks, he can’t help but lean into your tender touch. “i mean-”

“no, it’s okay,” you reassure him, moaning once your bare ass gets a swift rude swat from sukuna’s palm. within no time, you’re starting to move your hips again, feeling yourself get stuffed in all orifices.

your sheeny-slicked lips part into a gasping ‘o’ once you feel sukuna then rub a hand against your clit. “fuck,” you whine, and sukuna hisses himself once he feels your clingy grip around his cock tighten. his hips were sharp, and it doesn’t take long before you start to match his deranged rhythm. averting your eyes back toward choso who’s laid back so prettily on the bed underneath you, speak in a soft voice. “ ‘s okay, you can call me that.”

“yeah, cho. call the pretty girl ‘mistress’, heh.” sukuna derides.

with a cute grouse, choso glares at sukuna—but his expression quickly falters once you fall into his chest, slumping into his body. his tight sculptured abs that resembled a greek god peeks through his victorian inky cloak ghost against you and a bit of hair from his happy trail tickles against your tummy.

“shut . . up,” he grumbles at sukuna, but now it’s his turn to cup your face. “m- mistress,” and a thumb of his runs against your cheek.

sukuna groans from behind you both as he’s fucking you from behind—his deep pivotal strokes slowly weakening due to how sensitive he was. it almost stings, but with the way your cunt’s holding him hostage for all its worth, he just couldn’t stop.

“hm,” your eyes meet the dark haired vampire and his bottom lip quivers. just your stare alone was enough to drive him up the first street of insanity.

you’ve done quite your fair share amount of research on these two and what the media reports about them in the papers always shocks you. they typically always describe them as the ‘blood-thirsty duo’ monsters who would mercilessly tear limb from limb off of anyone who dares cross their path.

funnily enough, they said the most heinous things about choso in particular—but now that you were quite literally being filled with them both in each hole, choso was more sweet than anything. the papers described him as a ruthless blood-sucking vampire but he was the sweetest—especially whenever he’s overstimmed and whiny.

and sukuna . . he’s sukuna.

but you were still alive—so that was something, right?

“can . . may i,” and it takes you a moment to realize what he’s asking for.

choso wants to kiss you, and you can tell by the way his big wide eyes continue to flicker toward your own eyes, then back toward your glossed plump lips. he wanted a taste, he needed it.

“y- yeah,” you moan, feeling sukuna’s heavy cock reach an even deeper angle inside of you. you’re taking them both, feeling your entire legs get weaker by the second but that feeling suddenly disintegrates once choso presses his lips onto yours.

it’s a sultry hot kiss. a kiss that he’s been longing to do ever since he walked in on you and sukuna. choso’s forked tongue delves more into your mouth as you’re riding him with sukuna guiding your hips in place.

it’s sloppy, and he’s been pathetically aching for more of a taste from you for the longest. choso wasn’t fond of sharing you with sukuna—he wished it was you and him, but he couldn’t complain. at least he wasn’t going to complain yet.

“mmh,” you moan into his mouth, feeling his scarred hands softly caress near your breasts that poke through your bra. choso whines, nipping at your tongue with his serrated-sharp fangs before he lets off a gasp.

“ngh, oh fuck,” choso whimpers between your lips and deprived kisses. his arms end up enveloping around your waist, holding you close as sukuna’s driving his cock into you as such a crazed speed from behind.

as your lashes stick together briefly — they flutter shut before opening again. glancing up with droopy eyes, you watch as choso’s currently grabbing onto the wooden creaking headboard, a plethora of veins bulging down his swole biceps.

sukuna grunts behind your ear and within seconds later, he’s taking a playful harmless chomp out of your left shoulder blade.

your skin - so sweet, and his pronged tongue swirls its way around the fang marks that starts to form before choso ends up cumming early again.

“fuck, fuck,” choso whines, feeling his chest tighten. your pussy had them both weak, especially with choso more than anything, because he fills you up with another knot that exudes its way deep inside. it shoots out fast, pouring into you before a few remnants trickle down the crevices of your inner thighs.

your deadened legs struggle to stay open and he brings another needy wet kiss to your lips before he starts panting. “i- i need, need more,” and his eyes stare at your neck. “please, just a taste.”

“wait your turn, choso,” sukuna snarls, pulling you back to sink his fangs further into your skin. oh, they were fighting over you. choso lets off a cute huff before ignoring sukuna, glancing at you.

his eyes and pouty quivering lips were telling you ‘please’, and as you continued to slowly jerk your hips against them both, you let off a soft bashful, “g. . go ahead.”

but choso’s still cumming too—his ropes of cum was so sweet and came out so smoothly that it’s like he was pouring molasses of syrupy ribbons into you.

within a blink of an eye, it pumps into you raw, and choso nearly loses it once his fangs pierce down into the right side of your neck. “ah,” he whimpers, hot breath fanning against your skin. softly, his sharp fangs delicately nip into your sweet toothsome skin and it feels like a tiny prick.

you moan as you’re barely moving anymore, but they’re both still very deep inside, keeping each sloppy aperture of yours very, very busy.

“so dramatic,” sukuna rolls his eyes, a feeling of jealousy washing over him. you’re squeezing around him tight and he groans, clawing a few fingers toward your chest and unclasping your bra.

with hungry claret eyes that favors the color of rich red wine, he openly gawks as your breasts spring free and he gingerly pinches one of your perked nipples. “look at these girls, so perfect,” and you moan at his touch.

choso on the other hand looked so pretty. he’s still enjoying his ‘meal’ and the second his fangs cut deep enough into your skin, he tastes that sprinkle of metallic sweetness before he ends up cumming again.

he’s cumming while he’s feeding off of you — drinking your lusciously appetizing blood, and he hasn’t had a fill as good as this in probably centuries.

it’s so good that his mouth was watering, and the vampire loses his momentum before slouching further back with his teeth still attached to your skin like velcro. a pout curls against his lips as he makes you grind back into him, feeling both cocks stretch you open even more. “mh,” he whimpers, honed edges of his fangs creating various marks. you couldn’t wait to look at it later.

sukuna’s still fondling your tits and cupping them with both side hands before he bites near the other side of your neck, showering the exposed part of your skin with a multitude of kisses.

“careful, princess. you’re gonna break him,” he whispers in a raspy tone, and a hand of his trails further down between your legs.

“s- shut up, suku— fuck,” choso whines, and it’s an even larger knot than before.

it’s hot before it pumps inside of you yet again, filling you to the very peak. creamy globs of it race down your thighs as his mouth’s still clinging onto your bare shoulder blade. your taste, it was so rich . . so succulent.

your taste was almost so overbearing that it makes the flustered vampire’s eyes roll all the back until it reaches his skull, and he’s now feeling his dick twitching sporadically inside of you. “mistress, fuck. i- ‘s so much inside of you, f . . forgive me.”

he ends up shooting a huge load inside that stirs the insides of your flittering tummy. you were sure some even reached deep into womb, you wouldn’t be surprised due to just how big they both were.

but even so, and you couldn’t help but ponder . . could vampires get humans pregnant?

you didn’t plan on it, but that reality of being stuffed full of each of them made your stomach churn with a pool of butterflies living inside, swarming all around and fluttering at just the lewd thought of it all. you were filled to the very max - the very brim, and it leaves you panting for more.

you all remain like that until sukuna finally pries you off of choso, crimson eyes gazing at the mess that spills between your thighs. “tsk. how filthy,” and you land on your back, staring up at the two vampires who share the same blood-lust gaze.

“spread ‘em again, princess. least we can do is clean ya up,” and he nudges choso who’s just lied flat against the bed, still in awe—starstruck.

your pussy probably did break him.

“choso. c’mere,” he snaps in his face, and the dark haired vampire blinks thrice, returning back to reality. he groans, sitting up with sheets of sweat racing down each sides of his face. “our girl need’s cleaning.”

“o- oh, right,” he quietly stammers, a bit of your blood from earlier staining his pink lips. a permanent pout remains on his mouth before he licks them clean, and he can’t help but lean in, giving you one more kiss.

your heart swoons, and as you return the embrace. milliseconds pass and you gradually start to feel sukuna spreading your legs, ogling at the mess they created, the mess that’s pumped into you fully.

velvety ribbons of cum racing down each of your thighs, you were still throbbing ferociously and you let off a moan once you swipe your tongue across choso’s lips, relishing in the taste of your own sweet irony blood.

as your tongues vigorously twirl around each, trying to assert dominance between each twisting muscle—you let off a whimper in choso’s mouth once you feel sukuna’s breath aerate against your clit.

without even batting an eye, he starts to lap the cum out between your puffy folds before he gives it one loooong suck. your chest automatically heaves in and out before your arms wrap around choso’s broad shoulders, tangling saliva strands together and creating lustrous sleek cobwebs.

but, as your lips were locked against choso, you feel something between your legs. sukuna gives your pussy one long sniff, then he does it again, and one more time before gifting it a pat. “oh. .”

choso nibbles at your bottom lip with his fangs before sukuna meanly spanks your cunt. a bit of your own slick sprays against his palm and he hums.

“choso,” he huskily says, teasingly pointing the end of his claw near your pulsating clit. it was hovering over your entrance . . and still, you let off a whimper at the sensitive feeling. “i think i know why our pretty girl smelled so good all this time.”

“huh,” the dark haired vampire briefly pulls away, panting heavily just as you. choso glances down at sukuna before feeling his chest cave in and out. “w . . why, sukuna?”

you look down at sukuna, your brows contorting into a curious look yourself.

sukuna gives your sopping cunt one long stare before giving it a kiss. “mwah,” and you moan, watching as wet strands peel away from your pudgy folds and glue back onto his mouth.

he’s sloppy, and he couldn’t care less. the vampire rubs a circle around your entrance before snickering darkly.

“because,” and he spanks your pussy once more time before playfully putting his fangs against your clit as if he was about to bite you. with a dull expression, sukuna leans in to smell between your legs one more time before whispering against your clit.

“—you’re ovulating, princess.”