#you NEED to just make art for only you to enjoy and love not just the art you make to show others

[manmuncher777]

PASSED AROUND

- when the reader gets passed between Toji and Shiu like a blunt. After all how are they going to thank her for looking after them so well?

- 18+ SMUT, threesome, oral f+m recieving, unprotected sex, spanking, pet names. The tension in this is yummy. THIS ART HAS ME FERAL

a/m - Hi my loves, I worked super hard on this and would really appreciate if you could show some love!!!!! Reblogs, likes and comments are so welcome. I hope you enjoy. p.s MY REQUESTS FORJJK/AOT ARE OPEN <<33333

Three knocks on the door, a sound that has become so familiar to you. Most would be startled to be getting visitors at this sort of time, but you knew every time who it was going to be. You’re lying on the sofa scrolling on your phone, sighing gently as you get up

You glance over at the clock. It’s just past midnight, and the silence of your apartment feels almost deafening. You’re already stretched out on the couch, half-watching the flickering screen of an old movie when you hear it. The knock. The familiar sound that tells you everything you need to know.

Another round of favors, you think with a sigh. You don’t mind, of course. You owe them both, but more importantly, their company has become something you’ve grown… accustomed to.

You don’t bother with much—just a quick glance in the mirror to make sure you don’t look like you’ve rolled out of bed, though you kind of have. You’re wearing your usual sleep shorts, barely covering the top of your thighs, and a baggy t-shirt that hangs loosely off your shoulders. It’s comfortable, and you know it’s exactly what they’ve come to expect.

With a soft groan, you push yourself off the couch and make your way to the door, not rushing. No need to hurry. You swing it open without hesitation.

Toji stands there first, tall and imposing as usual. His eyes are cold, almost too unreadable, but the faintest glimmer of amusement lurks beneath. His gaze sweeps over you like he’s cataloging every detail, his lips curling into a half-smile that speaks volumes. All of a sudden, you were more conscious of how you were dressed as he glanced over you.

Shiu stands just behind him, his posture slightly more relaxed but no less commanding. His eyes are trained on you, intense, sharp, but with a subtle warmth that flickers beneath the cool exterior. You can already tell his attention is on you—his focus unwavering.

“Late night?” Toji’s voice is rough, casual, as if he hasn’t just barged into your life with that smirk of his.

You lean against the doorframe, keeping your arms crossed, the corner of your lips curling up in a smile. “You two really know how to pick your timing.” You glance at the clock over your shoulder. “Another job gone south?”

“Toji’s always getting himself into trouble,” Shiu drawls, his eyes narrowing with a glint of amusement. He takes a step closer, his eyes flicking over your outfit, lingering a little too long on the way your shirt clings to your body.

You arch an eyebrow, not missing the subtle shift in his gaze. “What, no ‘thank you’ this time for saving your asses?” you tease, though there’s a slight edge to your tone.

Toji grins, a dark, knowing look in his eyes. “Maybe we’re just here for the company this time.” His gaze slides over you once more, and there’s a lingering heat that makes your breath hitch. “And for the treatment, of course. We wouldn’t want you to think we only come around when we’re hurt.”

You can’t help the slight smirk that tugs at your lips. “Of course not. You two have been here enough times, I’m starting to think you have a permanent spot in my fridge.”

Shiu chuckles lowly, glancing over at Toji. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know we have our place here. I think we’re entitled to that fridge space by now.” His voice is smooth, almost possessive, as if he’s been here a hundred times before. And, well… maybe he has.

“Got a spot just for your beers, huh?” you reply, sarcasm laced with the faintest hint of something else, something more charged that you can’t quite put your finger on.

This whole thing started a while ago. You needed some help feeling with some unsavoury people, just the business the men were well versed in. You went to them seeking out their assistance, and of course they obliged when you told them you didn’t care how much.

And at first, thats all it was, business. But when you were discussing… business with both the men, you let slip you’re a nurse, a healer. Luckily for Toji and Shiu, they were in need of a new one.

So they offered you a deal, a discounted price for your services.

So each time after a mission, they would come to you, get patched up and be on their way.

At least thats how it started, business, then acquaintances, their 1 hour patch ups turning into hour long nights spent with chatter as you sipped on a beer, then movies and drinks when they needed to unwind

Then it formed into this, some kind of friendship. You now kept mens shower gel in your bathroom for the first time incase they were staying, you had a few small items of spare clothes they keep at yours, even a toothbrush each. Some nights they just needed to lay low, and you had a spare mattress and a pull out bed. It suited you. It actually was nice for your apartment not to feel so lonely. Sometimes you found yourself making extra serving of your dinner, anticipating the hungry mens arrival.

Toji steps forward, pushing the door open wider without a word, his large frame blocking the hallway as he moves past you, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that’s deliberate, yet casual. You try to ignore the way the contact makes your skin heat up. You tried to ignore hoe his muscles looked in that black shirt. You tried to ignore how he towered over you. You tried to ignore how the cuts on his face and knuckles made him looks so sexy.

Shiu follows behind, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. He walks with a quiet, steady confidence that makes it clear this is his territory too. You tried to ignore the way his suit clung to his board back. You tried to ignore the way he looked so good with that toothpick in his mouth. You tried to ignore how intoxicating you found that aftershave he wears is, loving when it lingers in your apartment after they leave. The apartment’s small and cozy, the kind of place they’ve come to know better than some of their own living spaces. Shiu makes a beeline for the fridge without a second thought, pulling it open and reaching for the beer—his beer.

“Toji’s right,” Shiu says, his voice smooth and steady, though there’s an undercurrent of something darker there. “You’re getting comfortable with us. We might start expecting dinner, too.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fed you both,” you respond dryly, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning against the counter. Your eyes flick over to Toji, who’s now making himself at home on your couch, his long legs stretched out lazily. The way he sprawls on the furniture makes it clear that this isn’t just a place for occasional medical attention—it’s theirs now.

You watch Shiu twist the cap off a bottle, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he takes a swig. “We’ve gotten used to it.” His voice lowers slightly, the words heavier than before. “Used to you, too.”

The air in the room shifts as Toji turns his head slightly, glancing at you with that familiar, dangerous smirk. “Yeah. We like it here. So, you think you can patch us up, or are we just gonna relax tonight?” He shrugs, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s not just talking about bandages.

Shiu takes another long sip from his bottle, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’ve been a good little host to us. We’ll return the favor one of these days.” His words are laced with something that makes your pulse quicken, a promise that’s too heavy to ignore. You were convinced they both knew what they were doing, blurring lines. A small blushed danced over your cheeks as the men shared smirks.

You swallow, suddenly aware of the thick tension in the room. You should be getting to work, tending to their injuries—but instead, your body betrays you, heat pooling low in your stomach at the way they both watch you. You can feel the pull between you all, the simmering chemistry that’s only getting harder to deny.

You clear your throat, trying to sound unaffected. “You two are going to get too comfortable if I don’t set some boundaries.”

Shiu leans in, placing his beer down on the counter, his gaze intent on you as his lips curl into a slow smile. “Maybe we already have.”

Toji smirks, leaning back on the couch, his eyes scanning you lazily. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. We both know you’re not here for just the drinks, either.”

The air feels heavier now, thicker, the unspoken words hanging between you like a taut wire waiting to snap. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep pretending like nothing’s happening.

But for now, you settle in, because you know this game—they know it too. And it’s only just beginning.

The atmosphere was almost suffocating. As much as you tried to busy yourself, to focus on your usual routine, the presence of Toji and Shiu in your apartment made it near impossible to think straight. Every glance they threw your way, every subtle brush of their hands as they moved past you, sent your heart racing.

You grabbed the first-aid kit, clutching it like a lifeline as you approached the couch where Toji was sprawled out. His broad frame took up most of the cushions, his legs lazily stretched out, one arm draped along the backrest. He looked up at you with an amused smirk, his sharp eyes gleaming with something almost predatory.

“Come to patch me up, sweetheart?” he drawled, holding up his hand where a shallow but jagged cut ran across his knuckles. The injury didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest; if anything, he looked far too entertained by your flustered demeanor.

You sat down beside him, keeping your focus on the first-aid kit as you opened it. “It’s nothing serious,” you muttered, your voice betraying the flutter of nerves in your chest. “You’ve had worse.”

Toji chuckled low, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “And you’ve been there for every one of them. Gotta say, I’m starting to like having my own personal nurse.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned at the way his gaze lingered on you. “Stay still,” you said, dabbing antiseptic onto a cotton pad. His hand dwarfed yours as you took it gently, the heat of his skin almost searing against your palm.

Shiu wandered over from the kitchen, beer in hand, his sharp gaze landing on the two of you. “Getting the royal treatment, huh?” he remarked, his tone light but laced with amusement. He leaned casually against the armrest of the couch, his proximity making you even more aware of how outnumbered you were.

“Someone’s gotta take care of him,” you replied, trying to sound unaffected as you began cleaning Toji’s wound.

Toji chuckled again, his voice a low hum. “Yeah? What about him?” He jerked his head toward Shiu, who raised an eyebrow in mock offense.

“Don’t drag me into your mess,” Shiu said smoothly, though he was already rolling up his sleeve to reveal a shallow scrape along his forearm. “But since you’re offering…”

You sighed, trying to keep your composure as Toji’s laughter filled the room. “You two are hopeless,” you muttered, finishing up with Toji’s hand and reaching for another antiseptic pad.

“I think she likes it,” Toji teased, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse skip. “She likes taking care of us. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your hand froze for a split second before you quickly resumed cleaning Shiu’s arm. “You’re delusional,” you shot back, though your voice lacked conviction.

Shiu smirked, watching you intently as you worked. “Delusional, huh? You keep letting us crash here, patching us up, stocking your fridge with our beers… Sure doesn’t seem like it.”

His words hung in the air, the teasing lilt of his tone making your stomach flip. You refused to look up, focusing instead on the scrape you were treating. But the heat of their gazes was impossible to ignore.

“Careful, Shiu,” Toji chimed in, his grin widening. “You’ll scare her off.”

“Scare her?” Shiu replied smoothly, his eyes flicking to Toji before returning to you. Twirling the toothpick that sat prettily between his lips. “She’s not scared. Look at her—she’s used to it by now. Aren’t you, doll?”

You tried to muster a sharp response, but the endearment made your breath catch. Instead, you busied yourself with wrapping Shiu’s arm, your fingers trembling just slightly as you secured the bandage.

“There,” you said, a little too quickly. “All done.”

Shiu caught your wrist as you moved to pull away, his grip firm but not unkind. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the teasing faded, replaced by something deeper, heavier.

“You’re good at this,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “Taking care of people.”

Your throat felt dry, your words catching before you could respond. Toji leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched the exchange with an amused smirk.

“She’s a natural,” Toji said, his tone teasing but his gaze sharp. “Like our own little housewife.”

Your cheeks burned, and you yanked your hand back from Shiu, glaring at them both. “You two are impossible,” you muttered, standing up abruptly.

Shiu chuckled, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he leaned back against the couch. “What? We’re just saying what we see.”

Toji leaned back as well, his grin downright wicked. “Yeah. Don’t get all shy on us now.”

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut, their words lingering in the air long after they were spoken. You turned away, trying to steady your breathing as you put the first-aid kit back in its place. But even with your back to them, you could feel their eyes on you, the weight of their attention pressing against you like a physical force.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

And you knew, deep down, that you didn’t want it to stop

You busied yourself with the first-aid kit, shoving bandages and cotton pads back into place with more force than necessary. The heat of their gazes lingered on your back, and no amount of focus on the task in front of you could chase away the pounding of your heart.

“Something wrong?” Toji’s voice was a low drawl, laced with amusement. You could hear the smirk in his tone.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you replied quickly, your voice tighter than you intended.

“Really?” Shiu’s voice joined in, smooth and teasing. “Because you’re looking a little flustered there, doll.”

You snapped the lid of the first-aid kit shut, spinning around to face them. “I’m not flustered,” you shot back, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you.

Toji was leaning forward now, his elbows on his knees, watching you with a lazy smirk that made your stomach twist. Shiu was still reclining, one arm draped casually over the back of the couch, but his sharp gaze was locked on you, studying your every move.

“You sure about that?” Toji asked, his grin widening. “Because you’re looking pretty red right now.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, Toji stood up. His sheer presence was overwhelming, towering over you as he closed the distance between you with slow, deliberate steps.

“You’ve been so good to us, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “Taking care of us, letting us stay… It’s cute how you think you can hide how much you like it.”

You took a step back, only to bump into something solid. Shiu had moved behind you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned down slightly, his lips close to your ear.

“He’s right, you know,” Shiu said, his tone soft but no less commanding. “You’re always so sweet to us. Always so ready to help. Makes us wonder what else you’d do for us.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse pounding as they effectively caged you in. Toji in front of you, his intense gaze pinning you in place, and Shiu behind you, his presence warm and unyielding.

“I-I don’t…” you stammered, but the words wouldn’t come.

Toji chuckled, low and deep, as he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered just a second too long, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. “See? Flustered,” he teased, his smirk turning almost predatory.

“Maybe she likes it,” Shiu murmured from behind you, his voice a smooth hum that made your knees feel weak. “Likes us.”

The words sent a jolt through you, and you turned your head slightly to glance at him. His eyes were sharp, yet there was something softer flickering beneath the surface, something that made your heart skip.

“I don’t—” you started, but your voice faltered as Toji leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Don’t what?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual. “Don’t want this?” His gaze flicked to your lips, and your breath caught in your throat.

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t think. The space between the three of you was charged, every inch of it humming with tension.

And then, Toji closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle, almost testing. It didn’t stay that way for long. The heat built quickly, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing closer until there was no space left between you.

When he finally pulled back, your chest was heaving, your mind spinning. You barely had a second to recover before Shiu’s hand was on your shoulder, turning you slightly to face him. His gaze was darker, more focused, but there was a softness to the way he cradled your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“Don’t think I’m letting him have all the fun,” he murmured before his lips captured yours. Shiu kissed with the same control he carried in everything he did—slow, deliberate, but no less consuming. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he took his time, savoring every second.

When he pulled away, you were left breathless, your head spinning as you looked between the two of them. Toji was smirking again, his arms crossed over his broad chest, while Shiu’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“Looks like you’re not so confident now,” Toji teased, his voice low and gravelly.

Shiu leaned in closer, his gaze locked onto yours. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his tone softer now, though no less intense. “We like you like this.”

The air between you was thick, heavy with the promise of something more, something inevitable. And as you stood there, caught between them, you knew you were done pretending.

They repeated their actions, sharing you in a heated kiss once again.

Toji’s lips brushed against yours first, slow and deliberate, as if daring you to pull away. His hand cupped your jaw, holding you in place, his rough palm warm against your skin. The kiss was confident, a little rough around the edges, just like him. You barely had time to catch your breath before Shiu’s presence at your side shifted, his fingers gently turning your face toward him.

Shiu’s kiss was different—softer, slower, yet no less consuming. His lips moved against yours with a deliberate patience that made your knees weak, his hand firm at the small of your back, grounding you in the moment. When he pulled away, his gaze met yours, dark and heavy with unspoken words.

“Well,” Toji said, his voice rough and teasing as he glanced between you and Shiu. “Didn’t think she’d give in so easily.” His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer as if to prove his point. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Shiu smirked, his thumb brushing your lower lip as if to trace the remnants of the kiss. “Maybe she’s been waiting for this as much as we have.” His tone was calm, but the way his eyes lingered on you made your stomach flip.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got caught in your throat as Toji leaned down again, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. “You’re not pulling away,” he murmured, the amusement in his voice barely masking the heat beneath it. “Guess that means you don’t want us to stop.”

Your hands, trembling slightly, found their way to Toji’s chest, the hard muscle beneath his shirt grounding you. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm, a stark contrast to the chaos of your own.

“I…” you started, your voice faltering as Shiu leaned in closer, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your neck.

“You can say it,” Shiu murmured, his lips brushing against your ear in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Or we can just keep going. Your choice.”

The tension was unbearable, the weight of their combined attention leaving you breathless. Your hands curled into Toji’s shirt, your body leaning into Shiu’s warmth at your back. Every touch, every look, seemed to echo the unspoken promise hanging in the air between you all.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you finally admitted, the words barely audible but carrying enough weight to shift the atmosphere entirely.

Toji grinned, his teeth catching his lower lip for a brief moment as if savoring your confession. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Shiu’s chuckle was low and rich, his hand sliding down to rest lightly on your hip. “Smart choice,” he said, his voice laced with a possessive edge that made your pulse race.

Toji leaned in, his lips capturing yours again with more urgency this time, as if your words had broken whatever restraint he’d been holding onto. His kiss was all-consuming, his hand gripping your waist to anchor you to him. Shiu’s fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against your hip, his presence at your back steady and sure.

When Toji finally pulled away, his eyes met yours, dark and intense. “You taste good,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Knew you would.”

Shiu’s hand tightened slightly on your hip, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw as he spoke. “Toji’s right,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You’re everything we thought you’d be.”

Your breath hitched, your body caught between the two of them, their touches and words weaving a web you couldn’t escape from—not that you wanted to. The heat between you all was undeniable, every moment building on the last, the tension a live wire ready to snap.

You let out a shaky exhale, your head tilting back against Shiu’s chest as Toji’s hand trailed lower, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “What are you two doing to me?” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Exactly what you want us to,” Shiu replied, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

Toji’s laugh was rough, a little breathless. “And we’re just getting started.”

The air was thick as Toji’s freshly bandaged hand danced along the hem of your shirt before tugging it up over your head. You were without a bra this evening, your nippled perking as the cold air brushed against them. You felt utterly submitted to the men caging you in, their gazes predatory, hungry.

Ship’s hands moved next gently cupping your breast, letting a gentle groan out at the feeling of your soft skin. The men moved in turn, practised. It was kind of freaky how well they took turns with you, sharing you so well. “So beautiful sweetheart, cant believe you were hiding all this from us.”

A small gasp escaping your lips at the contact, Shiu’s fingers moving to tweak your hard nipples, rolling them gently between his fingers, pinching them as your skin prickled with goosebumps.

His nose dragging up your exposed neck as your head lolled onto his shoulder. Your pouting lips now caught between your teeth as you tried not to squeal.

Toji’s hugs hands had grip on your waist, caressing gently up an down your sides as he watched your face, smirking at your expressions as Shiu played with you. His hands trailing lower… and lower. Teasingly slow until they reached your waistband of your shorts. dragging them along with your panties down your legs, allowing you to kick them off into the distance

There you stood completely bare and these two men had their way with you. You didn’t have a chance to feel self conscious before Toji was lowering himself to his knees, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder. You were glad you had Shiu behind you to hold you up because that first lick from Toji had your knees buckling.

Shiu's hands gripped your hips with a possessive steadiness, pulling you back against his solid frame. His body was warm, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he leaned in. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, the edge of amusement in his voice unmistakable.

Your response was swallowed by a soft gasp as Toji was just getting started,his movements deliberate, his focus razor-sharp. The intensity of his attention left your mind spinning, your body caught between the steady push and pull of their combined presence. Toji’s tongue was flicking up on down on your clit eagerly, slurping all the juices you were giving him.

“You taste fucking heavenly doll” he practically moans into your already soaking pussy. His comment making you release a whimper.

“Can’t handle both of us, can you?” Shiu teased, his lips brushing the sensitive curve of your neck. His voice was a low, molten drawl, carrying a note of wicked satisfaction that sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your hands gripped the fabric of Toji’s shirt, knuckles whitening as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations. Shiu chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Sweet little thing,” he murmured, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the base of your throat. “So responsive.”

Toji’s muffled laugh rumbled below you, the sound dark and teasing. “You should see her face, Shiu. She’s not sure whether to fight it or give in.” His hands tightened their hold on your thighs, a silent encouragement that only added fuel to the fire. His tongue now travelling deeper, diving into your core. His nose bumping against your clit making you jolt. You couldn’t even try to hide your moans anymore, your eyes fluttering shut as your mouth hangs open in pleasure.

Shiu’s lips parted against your neck, and the sharp nip of his teeth made your breath hitch. His tongue followed, soothing the sting before he latched on, sucking at the delicate skin just below your jawline. His movements were deliberate, each pull of his lips a silent declaration of possession.

“You like this, don’t you?” Shiu murmured against your skin, his tone shifting into something darker, something that felt like a promise. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers brushing just under the hem of your shirt. “Having us both like this. Makes you feel wanted, doesn’t it?”

Your head tilted instinctively, giving him better access as his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot. His chuckle was soft, almost smug, as he worked the skin, leaving no doubt that his mark would linger long after this moment was over.

“Look at her,” Shiu said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Already melting for us. You’re enjoying this a little too much, sweetheart.”

Toji’s hand slid up your side, his fingers splayed possessively over your ribs. “She’s not complaining,” he pointed out, his tone dripping with amusement. “Think she likes being the center of attention.” Every time he spoke from between your legs you couldn’t help but squeal from the vibrations of his deep voice. You couldn’t believe a man like Toji was on his knees in front of you, eating you out like you were his last meal. His hands on your hips managing the rolls of your hips against his face. He was basically making out with you cunt, leaving sloppy kisses all over, sucking on you clit.

You tried to form a response, but the words caught in your throat as Shiu’s lips moved lower, his tongue trailing along your collarbone before his teeth found another sensitive spot. The sharp sensation sent a jolt through you, and he chuckled again, his grip tightening on your hips.

“You’ll look good with my mark,” Shiu murmured, his voice laced with quiet satisfaction. “And his,” he added, his tone dropping further as he nodded toward Toji. “You’re ours tonight.”

The heat between the three of you was suffocating, the air thick with tension and unspoken promises. Shiu’s hands slid back down to your waist, holding you steady as his lips worked against your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Toji’s low growl of approval only added to the pressure building inside you. “Don’t go too easy on her,” he said, his smirk audible in his tone. “She can take it. She’s already dripping for me and I’m only warming up.”

Shiu pulled back just enough to catch your eyes, his smirk matching Toji’s. “Oh, I know,” he said softly, his thumb brushing the edge of the mark he’d left. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

You could barely breathe, the weight of their attention leaving you lightheaded and completely at their mercy. The tension between you all was thick enough to cut, the unspoken connection weaving tighter with every passing moment.

Your Hand now moving to Toji’s hair, needing something to grip onto with the pleasure he was giving you right now You were close and both on the men could tell, Shiu’s hand speedily returning to your nipples, giving them a squeeze causing your back to arch off his strong frame. You were dripping down Toji’s chin, his tongue eagerly lapping up every drop he could.

“Think she might be close” Shiu spoke, his deep voice flowing through your mind, Toji only humming at him in response, licking thick stripes up your whole cunt.

You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer, Cumming all over his face. That band in your core snapping. You moaned out loudly, unable to control the bucking of your hips as both men rode you through your high, Shiu gently talking you through your orgasm

“That’s it sweet girl, Cum for us.” he kissed against your ear as you shook against him “feels good yeah?”

You did your best to nod in response, trying to focus on catching your breath. Toji finally making his way up, kissing up your body before he rose to his full height, kissing you hard on the lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue. The erotic nature of the kiss had you whining. Finally he lets you out for breath

Your head is spinning, and your body feels like it's still humming from the intensity of what just happened. You're not sure when you lost control, but now, standing between Toji and Shiu, you're completely at their mercy. Every breath you take seems to send a wave of heat rushing through you, your skin still tingling from the aftermath.

Toji watches you with that damn smirk of his, his eyes glinting with something dangerous and amused. "Look at you," he drawls, his voice slow and steady, the words dripping with a mix of satisfaction and something darker. "Completely out of your element, aren’t you?"

Your face burns, and you can barely meet his gaze. You're standing between them, completely vulnerable, and the way they look at you now sends a shiver down your spine. It's as if they're seeing something no one else ever has, something they've claimed and marked.

You swallow, your throat dry. Every word feels like it’s pulling you deeper under their spell. "I..." Your voice falters, and you feel ridiculous, like you’re failing to hold onto whatever little bit of dignity you have left.

Shiu tilts his head, his fingers lingering on the curve of your neck as he watches you closely. "You’re so cute when you’re flustered," he whispers, leaning in just enough that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin. "Like you can't decide whether to hate us or beg for more."

Toji’s gaze flicks from you to Shiu, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think she likes it," he mutters, his voice teasing but with an edge of possessiveness. "Doesn't she, sweetheart?"

Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, and you're trapped between them—neither of them needing to say anything more. You can feel how tightly the tension holds between the three of you, and they both seem to be drinking in your reactions like a cocktail they can’t get enough of.

"You're not fooling anyone," Shiu says, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "We both know how much you like it. Especially after that little show you just gave us” You can hear thr grin on his face. Toji wiping your orgasm from his face with the back of his arm. You gulp

Your lips part as if you were going to protest, but the words get stuck in your throat. They’re right—there’s no denying it anymore. You’ve given yourself to them, and they know it. It’s almost humiliating how easy you were to break, but the thing is... you don’t mind.

Toji steps forward, his hand coming to rest on your lower back, pulling you closer, his large frame looming over you as he leans down to murmur in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "You’re not in control anymore, sweetheart. And you love it."

Shiu steps in, his hand coming to rest on your side, his touch firm but not forceful, just enough to remind you that you’re completely surrounded. His voice is smooth as he speaks, his lips brushing against your neck. "You’re ours now. We’ve claimed you, haven’t we?"

You don’t answer, because you know it’s true. Every inch of you is burning, still aching from what just happened, and you can’t deny the way your body reacts to them, how desperately you crave their touch, their attention.

They don’t need your answer—they already have it, and that’s all they care about. Toji gives a soft, mocking chuckle as he looks down at you. "You can’t hide it," he murmurs. "You’ve been ours for a while now. We just had to make sure you knew it." He’s slowly removing his shirt, revealing his huge muscular form. You can hear shuffling from behind you also, Shiu removing his suit jacket, then his tie. Soon fingers stating on his dress shirt

Your breath catches in your throat as you try to pull yourself together, but the air around you is so thick, so saturated with their presence that it’s impossible to ignore. Every part of you is trembling under their gaze, and there’s no escaping them now.

Shiu’s lips find your neck once more, his mouth hot against your skin as he sucks lightly, marking you again, making sure you remember who you belong to. His voice comes out muffled against your skin. "No one else is ever going to touch you like we do."

Toji steps back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, enjoying the flush that’s spread across your face and neck. "And you wouldn’t want anyone else," he says with a smirk. "Not after we’ve had our way with you."

The realization hits you all at once—you’re utterly, completely theirs, and in that moment, all you can do is surrender to it.

You don’t even think about fighting when Shiu pushes you onto the couch. manhandling you until your on all fours. Part of you is upset you can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared behind you. You could’ve sat there and just stared at both the shirtless men in awe, but you resisted.

Your heart jumps when you hear the clinking of a belt buckle, Toji chuckling at your reaction. You were waiting patiently, feeling the couch shift behind you as Shiu aligns himself with you. You could feel his hard tip poking at your entrance. The suspense making you squirm

“Stop teasing the poor thing Shiu, she looks like she’s about to cry” Toji says, hes sat down on your armchair now, watching the both of you. His grey sweats doing nothing to hide the bulge in his pants. He’s palming himself shamelessly as he watches intently.

“Awh you poor thing” Shiu coos teasingly, not giving you a chance before sheathing himself inside you completely. “Is that what you wanted doll?” he chuckles.

You jolt forward, not expecting to feel so full so quickly. Jesus christ he was big. Your poor arms already wobbling, you let out a sob. He slid right in, you were absolutely soaked. Your walls welcoming him greedily.

“Holy fuck! Shiu oh my god-“ You sobbed out pathetically. He hadn’t even started moving yet, but you hadn’t been this full in a while. he felt amazing wrapped in your walls. One of his hands grabbing at the fat of your ass as he finally starts thrusting inside of you. It’s like you were seeing stars, the sounds of your skin slapping together echoing through the room as he fucked you. Small grunts escaping him each time he bottomed out inside of your greedy pussy.

“Shit sweetheart, you’ve got a perfect little pushy. so pretty-“ he grunts from above you. God he sounded so good, that voice dripping in sex as he tried to control himself. Shiu was struggling to keep His composure as he watched the way you arched so nicely for him, giving him deeper access. The way your ass recoiled with each slam of his hips. And those delicious little noises you made when he hit a paticularly deep spot.

You were slowly pushing him to the brink. He was doing all he could to resist the anamalistic urge of just fucking you hard and fast, finishing in mere minutes. But he wanted to take his time with you, to savour how beautiful you looked at her mercy. Lord only knows how long he’d wanted to do this. “Shit baby, sucking the life out of me.” Moaning as he slams back into you. Your pussy gripping him so well you could feeleach vein on his cock.

You had never felt so perfectly full before, Shiu was hitting you at such a good angle you were almost voiceless. Running out of breath to cry out for him anymore. In the corner of your eye you watch Toji raise from the arm chair. He was sat the jerking off while watching you both, but now he was joining in again.

He’s in front of you now, both men at either end of you “I know that pussy of yours is perfect doll, how about that mouth?” He grips your face with his huge hand as he talks to you. It’s like he knows your fucked out and can hardly speak by the fact hes speaking so gently to you. His other hand was jerking off his thick cock. He had already rid himself or his grey sweats.

You were on fire. You felt like you were feeling everything at one Shiu fucking you so good, your orgasm nearing once more, and seeing Toji in front of you right now had you squirming.

You couldnt even process words to speak in that moment so you just opened your mouth up pathetically.

Toji groaned at the sight of you welcoming mouth, slipping his leaking tip in eagerly, hissing at the feeling of your tongue sliding over his slit. He gripped your hair gently, guiding you down his cock further and further until he was hitting the back of your throat before letting you back up again, he knew he wouldn’t last as long as he hoped. Not with the way you sweet little moans were vibrating against his cock. He was painfully hard from eating you out already.

You couldn’t quite believe your circumstances, sandwiched between the two men as they fucked both your holes. Shiu’s hands slapping at your ass now as he cursed to himself. Every thrust he gave you sending you further down Toji’s length. His considerable size leaving you gagging around him so sweetly. You moaned at the taste of his salty precum, drooling over his cock.

The men couldn’t believe it themselves to be honest. They had spoken about this moment many times, after all those nights spent staking out targets can lead to some interesting conversations. They were just shocked it was happening now. Not that either of them were complaining. Seeing you so vulnerable in front of them, god it was a dream come true.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined this before, on lonely nights. Nights where the men were sleeping just down the hall from your bedroom door, when the beers you drank had gone to your head and thoughts filled your mind. First it was just innocent imagining, I mean they basically lived with you, but then it turned heated. Your fingers getting you off to the thought of them having their way with you.

You could feel your impending orgasm, squeezing around Shiu’s length. Your legs shaking pathetically as his movements, if toji wasn’t basically holding you up by your hair you were sure you’d be crying into he cushions on your couch.

“Shit you close already sweetheart?” Shiu chuckles, but you can hear the strained pleasure in his cocky voice. He was close as well.

You moan on Toji’s cock as Shiu’s pace increases to an impossible speed. Your moan turning into a pathetic cry. Hot tears streaming down your flushed face, drool trailing down your chin.

“Shhhh, come on doll. let go for us.” Toji groans, he removed his cock from your mouth, giving a chance for you to catch your breath. You previously muffled noises now sinfulling ringing clearly in the room.

“So f-fucking good.” your body gleams as you writhe between the two men

“I know, I know sweetheart.” Toji speaks now, softer than before. The hand that was gripping your hair gentle caressing it instead, lulling you smoothly into your orgasm.

You cum over Shiu’s cock, juices gushing over the moan who moans in awe above you. You were fucking shaking as waves racked over you. Your orgasm more intense than the first one. Shiu didnt stop, fucking you through it as his tip hit that sponges spot inside of you.

“Holy fuck..” He couldn’t stop himself either, that sight alone has him cumming deep inside you, hips not stopping until he’s sure hes fucked his seed deep in you belly. He pulls out, watching as you clench around nothing, Hi cum leaking out of your used hole. Before you can move, the men have switched. Toji’s positioning himself behind you and Shiu is in front, assuming Toji’s post of stroking your head.

Toji slowly pushes inside you, muttering to himself about needing to finsh in you. He’s already close from the head you’ve just given him, but he cant resist dumping his load in your sweet little cunt.

He doesn’t go easy on you, as soon as he’s fully in you, he starts a brutal pace. Hips snapping into yours. Both hands gripping your ass, giving it a few slaps before grabbing the skin once more. His eyes trained on the ring of white forming around the base of his cock, his eyes not leaving where he enters you. Like he’s entranced.

You’re whining from the overstimulation, Toji was slightly thicker than Shiu, and you could feel him stretching you. “Still so tight baby, youre fucking perfect.” he grunts out between thrusts.

All you can do is take it while Shiu coos at. you sweetly, muttering about how well your doing, how beautiful you look.

Toji didn’t last too long, soon finishing in you as well. A guttural groan leaving him as he empties his balls. He doesn’t still until he thighs are shaking, ensuring he’s all in you. Pulling out, just to finger the cum back inside of you. God he was filthy. You loved it.

For a moment you all just lay there, squashed on the sofa, strewn across the giant men while their cum leaked from you. When your breathing finally slowed and you stopped shaking, they carried you into your bathroom. You couldn’t stop the giggle and Toji sweeping you up bridal style and Shiu opened the door to your bathroom. Both of them cleaning you up oh so gently with a washcloth, kissing your head gently, before taking you to your bedroom.

For the first time (but certainly not the last) you big bed didn’t feel so lonely when they both joined you. Cuddling against them both as you had some of the best sleep of your life.

A/n: YALL IM BEGGING YOU LIKE A REPOST!!!! PLEASE!!! this is probably one of my favourite works yet and I really hope it gets the love it deserves, I slaved over this, it is my baby.

AND THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY RECENT FICS

MY REQUESTS FOR JJK/AOT ARE OPEN!!! I esp love writing small drabbles so please any cute ideas just let me know, it doesn’t have to be smut 💜

[thewertsearch]

Alright, there’s a lot going on in this room.

First of all, it’s clear that the Betty Crocker Corporation has supplanted more than just Skaianet. This woman's been stamping her name on chests, cutlery, computers, calendars, and even Fetch Modi, so her company is more like an unholy fusion of Skaianet, Google and Amazon.

I'd give it a week before she pulls a Musk, and rebrands this abomination as 'C' - assuming she hasn't already done so.

Second of all, I initially thought this wall of blue hunks was advertising Jane's tastes, but upon closer inspection, each of them bears a signature in the Pen-Pal's color.

His older self did have a strange fixation on blue women, and apparently it's etched into his DNA.

Your name is JANE. As was previously mentioned, you are poised for an ELITE OPPORTUNITY to test the SBURB ALPHA. It is so elite in fact, you are the only of your kind invited to playtest!

Jane is the only member of her 'kind' to be given a copy of Sburb, which implies that there are other kinds of people on this version of Earth. Crocker is confirmed to not be a human, so maybe the planet is also populated by whatever kind of creature she is.

Though you guess that probably comes with the territory of being the HEIRESS APPARENT TO A BAKED GOODS EMPIRE. You don't suppose it hurts that you are said empire's NUMBER ONE FANGIRL, either!

She practically worships the Crocker megacorporation - and even worse, she's being raised to lead the damn thing. Jane might actually be starting out as an antagonist to our original heroes, completely unaware that she's being shaped into a weapon against them.

In short: Jesus Christ, Jane. We need to get you out of here.

You fancy yourself a SKILLED PRANKSTRESS, if by no other measure than lineage.

I guess Nannasprite's mischievous nature wasn't derived solely from the jester doll.

It's sweet to imagine Jane learning the prankster's arts from her Grandpa John - but I am extremely worried for Grandpa John right now, so I can't even enjoy it.

You once dabbled in AMATEUR BOTANY but found it TOO FRUSTRATING, because your VEGETABLES KEPT DISAP-actually you know what, you DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

Growing pumpkins is every horticulturist's first mistake.

You are also pleased to contemplate FRIGHTENING FAUNA, though saddened by their regrettable FAKENESS ATTRIBUTE.

Flora and fauna. I was waiting to see a little of each Player's personality before making Title guesses, and Jane's evoking Life to me, just as her pervious incarnation did.

Now, that would break the apparent rule that Scratch-swapped Players preserve the session's original Aspects, but that rule hasn't been confirmed yet. Plus, Life might just be my Aspect, so I'd love to see it become more prominent in the story.

But none of that's on your mind now, because you are PSYCHED about this SPECIAL DATE, 11.11.11 [...] a date exhibiting just the sort of numerical gimmick corporations love to exploit for their big releases, or for launching MAJOR REBRANDING INITIATIVES. In the case of your CHERISHED MULTIGLOBAL EMPIRE, both such events are slated to happen today.

Wow, so Betty Crocker is already operating on multiple planets?

The more we see of this Earth, the more obvious it becomes that it's nothing like the world our heroes left behind. Everything has changed.

[unknown-cold]

The artist: ( @itshuansart )on Instagram and Twitter/X

I love this so much!! Best art that expresses Caitlyn's sadness and suffering, I really wish I had seen something like this on the show.

I can say that Caitlyn's character is one of the most misunderstood characters ever, that these people see Caitlyn as just an enforcer from Piltover made them not understand her, or rather they don't want to understand her character.

Because it's getting really suspicious, I feel like Caitlyn's hate is more than just a character who did bad things. There are characters who did worse things. Let's take Silco, one of the characters who did the worst things in the entire show, from trying to kill an entire family for control, to flooding his entire population with shimmer and turning some of them into monsters and making children work in dangerous factories, all of this and he didn't get half the hate that Caitlyn did. Silco is a true dictator who didn't care about anyone but himself and his interests and his intentions were always evil. Unlike Caitlyn, she tried in the end to fix her mistakes and admitted her mistakes too. And to everyone says she is evil or dictatorial because she used gas, is it a bad thing yes, but Caitlyn had no evil intentions in using gas, she used Gray to facilitate the capture of Silco's gangs and allies who were basically harming the people of Zaun even the kids as we saw in ep 2 in S2 when Chross's Goons was following Isha, and of course capturing Jinx as well, she did that because it was a less harmful solution than sending armies of enforcers and Noxus men to Zaun, and we saw because she stopped using Gray after she end her mission and failed to capture Jinx. If Caitlyn was really evil and dictatorial as some people claim, she would have used Gray again to exterminate the people of Zaun, but she didn't do that because that's not her personality that we knew in season 1, and most of the problems that happened were because of Ambessa, and her manipulation and constant incitement for Caitlyn to capture Jinx.

So yeah hating on Caitlyn is so hypocritical and completely unnecessary, seriously I can't believe there are still people who message me and reblog my blogs and not just me but other people saying that Caitlyn is an evil cop and you should stop talking about her and liking her, or you'll be just like her. Are these people crazy or stupid or what exactly!? What does my liking a fictional character have to do with you thinking that I'll be like her in real life!? These people really need to grow up and leave people alone, like if you don't like something and you see someone else like it there's no need to give them your opinion because they won't care and we who like the same thing won't care either so why bother us with your opinion, and then it's selfish of you to want other people to be like you and agree with you (especially when your style of criticism is rude and terrible)

So I always say the show is not black and white, and there isn't only one side good and another side bad. Arcane proves every day that this show is not for everyone and if you want to enjoy it you have to open your mind well and be open-minded, and most importantly put politics and real-life issues aside, and enjoy this fantasy world with flawed characters and good writing. (This show is not designed to solve political issues. At the end of the day it is a show based on a video game)

[onionpainter]

just found your blog, I think your paintings are absolutely gorgeous! I've been wondering, what draws you to work with oil paints above other mediums? I've found them very tricky to work with in the past and I'm fascinated by the depth and cleanliness you can bring to them

Hello there, thank you for asking! I’m very glad to hear you enjoy my work :) I have many reasons why I must work in oil, allow me to offer you this numbered list. I am very normal about it.

The art which I have grown up loving and aspiring to make was largely made with oil. It is my strong feeling that if you want to recreate an art style, the easiest way to achieve this is to use the same medium in the same way that the original artist made their work in. All mediums have their own idiosyncrasies and it is far more practical to use the same medium than to try to recreate the effect of one medium through another medium. I learned this the hard way trying to achieve the particular look of paint tool SAI, first through drawings coloured with water based paints, then with clip studio paint. It is better to use the same materials that your chosen art movement used if you want to work accurately in the style. I was asked once why I don’t use watercolour. I don’t use watercolour because I can’t make an oil painting out of it.

They are difficult to gain control over. This seems like a point against them, but let me tell you why this is a point in their favour for me. There was a time in my digital illustration career when I hit a very brutal plateau. I was very bored and I strongly disliked working on my commissions. Digital art had ceased to be particularly hard in terms of program handling, but my drawing skills were weak at the time. I decided I needed something properly difficult, and not having had time or space until that point to work in oil, I took it up again. Being so unpracticed and unskilled, it was very punishing, frustrating, and unrewarding, and by the end of my painting practice I would be begging to return to the relative ease of my digital work. Of course, there is only so long that I can engage with a skill before I fall into a bottomless pit of commitment.

Another point regarding difficulty and maybe more importantly, perceived difficulty. I am a highly competitive person, some might say pathologically. And since oil is often seen as the most difficult medium [although I would say, again, it is the easiest thing to make an oil painting out of] there is then less overall competition within the medium than there is in water based mediums for example. I compare this to another scenario, that of horse training. Why would a horse trainer choose to work with feral, unhandled mustangs, when you can work with a nice horse who has been handled and conditioned from foalhood? One reason is to show very high level horsemanship. If you train a mustang then you really know how to train horses. Technical difficulty can be dealt with, it is only a matter of hundreds of hours of work. Oversaturation of a niche, however, is a much more difficult problem, which is also out of my personal control. I’d rather prove myself against one oil painter than three acrylic painters.

On the topic of perceptions, oil is commonly seen as the most valuable type of painting. I’m not saying that’s a fair perception, just that it exists. Often when people think of “good paintings” the paintings they imagine are typically in oil. I’m sure we’ve all seen particularly dynamic fotografs compared to oil paintings. This has two functions for me, one, that I can make these objects of perceived value, which please and entertain. The second function of them is to legitimize myself as an artist in the eyes of the general public. Digital art is a commonly devalued and little known or cared about art form, even though so much incredible contemporary art is of digital mediums. Unless someone is already involved in digital art communities, it can be difficult for them to relate to it or even imagine what it could be, or how it is made, even though it permeates society. Digital art is seen as low art. On the other hand, the first thing that comes to mind for people when they think of art or “Fine Art” is usually oil paintings. There are significant social advantages to being able to say “I am a painter” versus the awkwardness of having to admit “I am a digital illustrator” with all of the confusion and skepticism that brings. Again, I don’t bring this up in order to champion this line of thinking, I am just saying that this perception exists.

On a technical level, there is something about oil. The textures and handling needs of the different pigments and mediums, and the physical feeling of manipulating all of it is something I cannot do without. My teacher who first introduced me to oil compared it as painting with melted butter against the feeling of painting with glue or toothpaste, which he felt about acrylic paint. This is a matter of opinion, but one I agree with. There are tactile sensations which only exist in oil, and the longer drying time allows for much more mixing on the palette. I would be furious if I spent time mixing a colour only for it to dry and become unusable within the hour.

The dangers involved, both to the art in terms of archival quality, and to myself in terms of poisoning or fire, make this medium into something that demands strict attention. Many of my materials can kill if I do not handle them correctly. To me, this immediate danger brings the specter of death from the shadows and defangs him, transforms an unknown terror into a banal familiar matter. These materials might harm me, but instead they help me and they are my dear familiar companions. My duty is just to honour and steward them well and help them fulfill their purpose, which is to please and entertain.

In terms of my recommendation of this medium to others, I would recommend it if you are the kind of person who can withstand slow progress and who wants to earn something hard. Beginnerhood typically lasts a long time with these materials, unless you are a particularly strong painter in other mediums already and have a good teacher. I wouldn’t know because I am the initially unskilled type. A warning for the initially skilled people reading this: there will come a time in your practice when your initial skills are no longer adequate for the task ahead. I suggest you learn how to work hard before you come to this point so it will be less devastating for you. Enjoy the simple struggles of your beginning, even if it may overall be very boring. Lose yourself within it. The milestones of the intermediate stage are much farther apart than those in the beginner’s fight.

With regards to your comment on cleanliness, first I thank you, that is very kind. I allow myself to work slowly and try to control my impulsivity. Speed will come with time and experience, I am content with a slow and measured process for now.

[dragonflight203]

My latest DC Comic read is Batman: Fear State Saga.

I picked this one up because Jonathan Crane is the main antagonist and I love the awful little man. I wanted to see how the comics portrayed him.

I can’t say this is good comic, but I enjoyed it. The only apologies I can make for the length is that I enjoy characters that are awful people and this comic is filled with them.

Comic

Title: Batman: Fear State Saga

Author: James Tynion IV

Artist: Jorge Jimenez

Year: 2021

Overall Opinion

An interesting premise that falls flat but nonetheless has very interesting character moments.

The plot in general suffers because it doesn’t challenge Batman. For him, this is just another night of dealing with Gotham’s bullshit. That’s a valid angle in is own right, but the narrative plays out as dramatic moments that don’t land. You can’t have a grand success if you never feared defeat.

There are, however, fantastic character interactions. Any page Jonathan’s on is generally a good page. I also enjoyed Sean and Simon, but I suspect those are more controversial.

The Peacekeeper-01 and Miracle Molly shorts are also very good, probably because they’re introspective rather than grand plots. Characters seem to be Tynion’s strong point.

Art

In general the art work is fantastic. No complaints there.

There is a puzzling portion of Batman #115 where the art style notably changes. I think it might be because the focus is on Molly, but if so it didn’t work. It had me flipping pages forward and back to figure out what was going on.

On the other hand, I really enjoy how in the Miracle Molly short the art style for Mary’s life differs greatly from Molly’s. Good use of the medium to emphasize the storytelling.

General

Main Story

-I love the prominence of women through this story.

Most of the other DC comics I’ve read so far have only had one or two prominent women, typically in background supporting roles.

So having multiple women in this story, interacting with each other, is very refreshing. I hope more current comics follow this trend.

-“I believe in the new Gotham City” is a catchphrase throughout that strongly reminds me of “I believe in Harvey Dent”.

And just like the Harvey, the new Gotham City is doomed to failure because of the faults inherent in its foundations.

Gotham needs to avoid any movement where the motto starts with “I believe”.

-Bat symbols replace swear words. While cute, it’s also silly. This is the 21st century; just put the damn swear words in.

-The FBI acquires Jervis’ tech when he’s comprehended.

This feels vaguely likely a conflict of interest. It certainly gives the FBI a good reason to want Jervis to break out.

-Arkham is outright called prison. So much for a mental hospital...

Montoya: “He was a prison guard in the most corruptprison complex on the east coast! The word ‘Arkham’ is shorthand for ‘poorly run prison’!”

-The term “bat-family” doesn’t seem right in universe. It works as a meta term, but I don’t see the characters – especially not the members themselves – referring to the bats as that.

At best I’d prefer a term like “bat clan”.

-I also feel they were poorly used.

There are numerous group of the bat family and they’re frequently referenced throughout the story.

However, we see them actually doing very little. They don’t even get proper introductions. So having dramatic shots where everyone is present doesn’t feel earned. Why should we care about them in the context of this story?

They should have gone all in with giving the bat family roles or cut them out.

-Batman gets a few speeches that feel out of place.

There’s the one where he and Molly talk on the way to the Unsanity Collective base about how Batman feels and the one at the end with Jonathan about change.

I like the concepts! However, they feel “high level”, rather than personal. It’s how I would expect someone to describe a story rather than their life.

I’ll certainly take this over an emotionally constipated Batman, but I think they could have used a rewrite to make them more natural.

-Why is Jervis barefoot in Arkham? Why is everyone ALWAYS barefoot in Arkham?

-The Unsanity Collective feel odd in this story.

They wipe away traumatic memories so people can become their best selves. That on its own is debatable – there’s an argument to be made that your memories make you who you are.

And Batman does challenge Molly on this when she tries to use the bomb to force it on everyone! He manages to talk her out of it because people can improve even with traumatic memories.

But he also allowed the Unsanity Collective to operate freely before the story and continues to do so after. He doesn’t consider them a threat to the city.

If Batman fundamentally agrees with the Unseen Collective I can maybe see him permitting to operate on the principle that people can choose their own paths, but I’d expect more tension with them than we see. It just seems out of place that Batman allows them to operate so freely when they’re mind wiping people. That can be so easily abused.

Shorts

-The Peacekeeper-01 comic doesn’t quite fit between Fear State #1 and #2.

#1 ends with Sean freaking out and #2 picks up directly from there. The Peacekeeper-01 comic ends with Sean peacefully walking away from his father’s pub.

-The Peacekeeper story does an excellent job of showing how deeply rooted corruption is in Gotham.

Sean watches his cop father beat to death another cop to prevent him from supporting the DA in taking down the (corrupt) commissioner.

Later they go out for treats and his father explains how controlling evil to keep it manageable is a good and honorable thing.

Fighting against corruption so ingrained into society is an uphill battle.

-The Miracle Molly comic hits hard for how mundane it is.

The antagonist is real life – a spouse you’ve disconnected from, in-laws you don’t get along with, an unfulfilling job…

There’s no one thing that pushes Mary over the edge. It’s just the unforgiving daily grind. And I think nearly every adult can sympathize with that.

-It’s a strange choice to put Poison Ivy’s origin story in Gardener’s comic.

I’m curious if this is the first telling of it in current continuity, or if it conflicts with an existing telling.

Plot

-Simon Saint on Crane’s work: “It’s difficult to imagine creating a society trained to expect trauma – whose fear has become so ingrained and irrational that your theory could tip them over.”

Yeah, that’s Gotham. I’d call that Gotham on an average day, really. You don’t need to set this after the Joker war.

-“A-Day” – The gas attack on Arkham that Jonathan used to break out – is frustratingly vague.

It’s blamed on the Joker, but Jonathan uses it to fake his death. Given Jonathan told Simon that his absence from Arkham would need to be hid from Batman to prevent his interference, it’s not unreasonable to assume Simon was involved.

So did Simon do A-Day? Or did Jonathan take advantage of Joker’s attack?

If Simon performed A-Day and used Joker as the fall man, I doubt Joker is pleased. You’d think he have something to say about it. But he never shows up in the story.

And is Arkham gone? If so, will it be rebuilt?

It’s implied at the very end that Arkham was destroyed in the attack, but it’s never made explicit.

-There is something very funny to me that Simon’s solution to masked vigilantes is licensed superheroes.

Obviously the police can’t handle Gotham’s costumed criminals. Some kind of superhero is necessary. It’s just a matter of who they report to.

(Has Gotham forgotten that SWAT exists?)

-Taking over Oracle’s broadcast is a nice escalation of the plot. It shows old tricks aren’t the solution to this problem and that the villain is capable enough to beat the bats’ tech expert.

However, it’s never made clear who took over Oracle’s broadcast.

I initially presumed Simon, but given how badly he falls apart I don’t think it was him. Also, there’s some evil laughter in one of the later broadcasts that isn’t really Simon’s style.

That leaves Scarecrow. It fits his MO of spreading fear but I’m skeptical he has the technical finesse to pull it off.

This point is just.. dropped about halfway through. You’d think Oracle’s tech operations being compromised would be a major plot point throughout, but apparently not. There’s not even any resolution on if its fixed.

-Simon’s positioning of the peacekeepers to the public is clever.

He acknowledges Batman’s achievements – he took on the mob and much of the city’s corruption.

However, with his rise came the rise of costumed crime and he wasn’t enough to handle that. Hence the need for the peacekeepers.

(Again, is there a reason Gotham can’t implement a SWAT team? In some continuities they’ve had one.)

-The program's barely started and Simon's already creating a secret Peacekeeper. That's not promising.

-Batman gives Montoya a run down of the entire plot.

This would be more impressive if the story showed how he knew any of it. How does he know the Magistrate planted the bomb? Or that Peacekeeper-01 is dosed on fear toxin?

-You’d think Montoya’s line here is foreshadowing, but it’s not: “The people need to believe in something – all together. It’s the only way to break them out of this…”

Waste of a very good story hook. That would have been a great resolution to the story – inspiring people to overcome their fear by giving them something stronger to believe in. It’s always been a theme in Batman stories that he’s meant to inspire hope.

-Bruce is furious at Simon for giving Scarecrow power. Interestingly, if not for that he could have seen a future for them in Gotham.

Batman fighting magistrate robots: “There is no future for the magistrate in Gotham city. There might have been if you hadn’t been so careless.

“You gave one of the most dangerous minds this city has ever seen more power than he’s ever had before.

“This city is Scarecrow’s laboratory now. We’re all his test subjects.

“Are you listening, Saint?!

“I will make sure that this city knows whose fault that is…

...Even if it kills me.”

I wish this was followed up on more. What place could Batman see for the magistrate in Gotham? Did he welcome the additional support but oppose the execution?

-In Bruce’s mind, he sees himself as Batman.

Minhkhoa, however, sees himself in a suit – but still wearing the mask.

-The Unsanity Collective built a machine that absorbs trauma and didn’t expect Scarecrow to attempt to steal it?

They might actually be insane.

-Sean I know you’re being mind controlled but please don’t let the mad scientist experiment on you just because he called you a hero.

-The Unsanity Collective being vulnerable to Scarecrow because both of their mind tech is built off of Jervis’ work is well done. Both of those facts are established well before the reveal.

Also, as much as Jonathan wanted credit at the start of this story for his work I feel Jervis should also be submitting a claim. Everyone is using his work. Man could be rich if he got royalties.

-Jonathan shows off his plan to Batman, then promptly throws a hissy fit when Batman attempts to interfere. Jonathan, how did you expect that to go?

-Sean shooting Jonathan is rather funny. And then casually saying he’ll kill Simon, take his position, and possibly keep Jonathan around if he survives.

Everyone wants Jonathan and no one wants to actually deal with him.

Understandable.

-The resolution with Simon is very abrupt. The bat family just show up on his ship and say he’s being arrested.

Given how major a player he’s been in the story, I think this should have been fleshed out more.

-Poison Ivy is very calm about reuniting with herself.

That feels very convenient and because the plot demanded in it. Why would “Queen Ivy” whose all cynicism want to reunite with innocent Poison Ivy?

-Batman is wrong about Sean in their final fight: “Heroes save other people. You’ve only ever wanted to save yourself.”

Sean literally lost an arm and a leg saving two nurses during A-Day. He’s a shitty person, but I do think he genuinely wants to do good. He’s just… Had extremely poor guidance on what good is and is only starting to realize that.

He went from his corrupt cop father for guidance to Silicone Valley tech bro Simon to the Scarecrow. Jonathan is not qualified to mentor anyone in ethics.

It’s an odd thing for Batman to say, as this story pushes the narrative that people can change and choose to do better. Ghost-Maker is a primary supporting character. Sean has already shown willingness to sacrifice himself for others and Batman dismisses him outright.

-It’s a solid twist that Molly wants to set off the bomb as an Unsanity bomb.

The resolution, however, falls flat for me. Batman gives Molly his communicator so she can hear all the positive press about the night wrapping up. This is supposed to be touching but I don’t feel it.

I think it’s because of Batman’s lack of inner turmoil. This has been a long night, but it hasn’t challenged him internally. He still holds the same beliefs at the end of the night that he does at the start; it’s just been a longer night than usual of putting down crime for him.

To make it work Batman would also need to be swayed by the positive news. Perhaps Molly could have spent the night trying to sway Batman to the Unsanity Collective’s vision. He debates her, but is visibly wavering. When she tries to set off the bomb she tells him she knows he sees her vision; he shakes his head and puts the communicator on speaker. They listen to it together and Molly dismantles the bomb.

Batman’s the viewpoint character, so he should experience some growth during the story. Molly’s a good vehicle to do it and the bomb’s a fantastic opportunity. The writing just didn’t take advantage of it.

-Batman WOULD NOT take off his cowl in public. I’ll assume Molly knows his true identity, but Jonathan and Sean are RIGHT THERE and they do not.

-Jonathan agrees to behave when Batman takes him to the asylum so they can speak on the way over. Rather sweet. The Rogues want their bonding time, damn it.

Even more touching is Batman giving Jonathan a mask when he asked. I suppose Batman understands the importance of them.

I would love to hear the therapists opinion on it.

-How the fuck can Molly do time for other members of the Unsanity Collective? Does Gotham even pretend to follow the rest of US law?

-I’m glad Poison Ivy calls Garten out on creating a seed of her. That was an extremely creepy violation of her autonomy.

-Batman says Jonathan hasn’t evolved, but that isn’t true.

Jonathan normally uses fear toxin. He doesn’t use any for this entire story; he uses tech Jervis developed that Jonathan adapted for his own purposes.

I appreciate that Batman is trying to encourage Jonathan to move past his obsession with fear or at least redirect it, but he can do that while acknowledging what Jonathan has already accomplished.

Characters

Jeremiah Arkham

-Simon bribed Jeremiah for private conversation with Jonathan. Huh. Disappointing.

Ethics aside, you’d think Jeremiah would know this would end terribly. No ‘private conversation’ with a Rogue can have a happy ending for Gotham.

-According to Jonathan, Jeremiah is also always listening.

Given Jeremiah runs Arkham Asylum, that’s just practical.

-Credit to Jeremiah: He put Sean on probation for beating the shit out of Jervis.

Strike against Jeremiah: He should have fired Sean on the spot.

-So is Jeremiah dead or not? It’s never stated if he died during A-Day.

Jonathan Crane

-Jonathan thinks Jervis is smart! “He is a strange man. Childish, but roughly six times smarter than any of the usual costumed coterie in Gotham.”

-To create a fear state Jonathan will require “a good deal of burlap, straw, and rope.” Lol. Obviously Jonathan will be doing his lab work in costume, who doesn’t?

-Jonathan wants credit for his work. He’s sick of others using his research and taking the credit.

I wish more had been done with this. Given it’s the intro for the saga, you’d think it be a theme throughout. Maybe what drives Jonathan to turn against Simon, or at least referenced again at the end. But no, this is the only mention.

-Jonathan never sits in the conversation with Simon. He stands, walks around, crouches, leans over the table, but never sits.

It’s probably just artistic choice, but I read it as never viewing Simon as an equal. Sitting would imply this is a business conversation between two men of the same statute and Jonathan never considers Simon on par with him.

-I love that Jonathan has different speech bubbles when he’s the Scarecrow. That’s some extreme compartmentalization.

-Jonathan’s foremost priority is science, but if it incidentally causes some good he’s not opposed. It’s just not a priority.

Scarecrow on putting Gotham into a fear state: “But I hope on some level you recognize the truth. That what comes next is me at my most altruistic. That’s not why I’m doing it, of course. I’m doing out of scientific curiosity. But I sincerely believe Gotham will be better on the other side.”

-I’m cackling. Even before he goes Scarecrow, the papers are already refusing to publish Jonathan’s papers on fear.

-Jonathan’s speech to Minhkhoa is quite passionate. He also looks like a dork during it.

I want to see this man in an anime. You’d know he’d have the time of his life going over the top anime style.

-Of course Jonathan likes to refer to a straw man of abstract fear as a scarecrow.

-Jonathan may actually believe what he tells Sean: “I’m not a bad guy. I’m a doctor. It’s the city that’s bad. And I have the cure.”

Sean: “What’s the cure…?

Jonathan: “You are, my boy. You are.”

I think Jonathan may be genuinely fond of Sean. Not as a person, per se, but as a successful experiment.

If nothing else, I’m sure he’ll cackle with glee and second hand pride when he watches Sean give Batman hell in the future.

-Jonathan enjoys his games with Batman. All the Rogues do.

Jonathan: “I’ll admit, I forgot how fun this is. Keeping you outfoxed… I try to stay above the fray when I talk to my Arkham compatriots… But I can’t lie. It’s a fun game.”

-Jonathan bounces right back after failures. A true scientist – he just found one more way to not achieve his goal.

Jonathan as he’s transported to an asylum: “No. The fear was always there. I was just trying to do something productive with it. Next time I’ll do a better job.”

-Of course he tested his fear bomb on the handlers Sean assigned him because he’s a ‘responsible scientist’.

Jonathan, you awful little gremlin of a man.

Sean Mahoney

-I’m probably one of a handful of people that genuinely like Sean. Even the narrative seems to expect you to dislike him.

He’s objectively awful at the start– he defends his father’s corruption and he beats the shit out of Jervis when he’s an Arkham guard.

However, he does save the two nurses during A-Day. And he says throughout that he wants to save Gotham.

For most of the story Sean is malleable. He follows his father, then Simon, then Jonathan. He slowly becomes disillusioned with each,

It’s not until the end that he really comes into his own and starts to define himself. (Was he ever deprogrammed from Scarecrow’s influence?)

I think there’s potential there. Most likely as a villain, but I could see him as a hero with some work. Well, a lot of work.

-Sean: “I’ll show them. I deserve this! I paid my dues! This city owes me!”

Even on fear toxin, that’s a worrying level of entitlement. Maybe especially on fear toxin. Sean’s deepest fear… is not getting what he thinks he’s owed?

Simon Saint

-Simon is awful. It’s like he objectively knows what the right thing is, but can’t bring himself to follow through on it.

Simon: “We must have compassion for Sean, because he’s a young man being manipulated by a monster. We are a force for good in Gotham city. We want to save him, because we want to save everyone, and bring order to this city. But should that not be possible…

“The Peacekeeper-X armor’s adaptive nanotechnology cost 500 million dollars more than what Peacekeeper-01 is working with. Your weapons will tear through Sean’s armor like it’s tissue paper. And if this goes south, that is precisely what I expect you to do.”

-Simon is crying as he orders the Peacekeeper-X armor destroyed, but does it anyway.

Then he tries to delude himself Ricardo might be alive.

Does this man have any experience with combat?

-Simon does not handle stress well.

Simon after Ricardo’s death: “Gotham city is insane. It is filled with dangerous criminals, and they all should be destroyed. This city should be wiped off the face of the Earth!”

Simon as Sean and Batman fight: “I don’t understand. I spent so much money. Why isn’t this working?!”

Misc

-I can see why Ghost-Maker is so popular. He’s quite funny and plays off Batman well.

-Shout out to Montoya for being sensible. She knows how dangerous Jonathan is with his words and wanted him gagged.

-Garten doesn’t do much, but I enjoyed her. She’s another character that’s well aware of how she’s viewed and accepts her.

I do not, however, trust her. That business with Poison Ivy was not aboveboard.

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[spaciebabie]

okay guys so heres the thing. if i am having fun and being happy over a post and you come in my inbox and say something rude about how im enjoying something you're getting blocked lol. i have been veeeeeeeery nice so far. i dont know why you're following me if you're gonna make a stink when i reblog/make art/talk abt something i like. why are you here. you know. the blog where i talk/reblog/make art abt the things i like. if you dont like it here instead of telling me. leave. be a decent person, okay?

[hplonesomeart]

Hey!! So turns out a video I made between a certain “well beloved but highly sensitive/emotionally reactive T.V” and an “orange haired inkling-turned-human” has managed to sweep my YouTube channel and accumulate 100k VIEWS!! THAT’S A LOT OF PEOPLE ACTUALLY?? My most widely viewed video EVER to exist in this moment in time?? AAAAA?? Not even mentioning the various comments and staggering increase in subs! It’s so much more then what I expected or even prepared for—might even be the most impactful thing to happen for me this year <3

…aside from graduating high school + the social connections I’ve been fortunate to make lol

BUT THE POINT IS I’d been closely monitoring the YouTube growth through the entirety of October. It’s make me smile like a dork, gawk in astonishment, dance frantically in my room from the energy boosts, and grow courage to stop being so selective/self-conscious with what I wish to share with the world! It’s kept my ambitions going!

I needed to find some way to celebrate the occasion and express my thanks—because I can’t NOT acknowledge this milestone jksjskp. Typically I try to avoid getting tunnel visioned focusing on the metrics/numbers. Mr. Puzzles had already demonstrated how much those things can mess with the minds of creatives. Caring too much about chasing views or placing your artistic value in attention seeking gets damaging. But at same time…it’s hard to deny the sense of pride the 100k achievement has filled me with. I understand that reaching 100k views doesn’t immediately make me any “better” or “worse” then I was before. I’m still just me! It only helps me feel seen by others—and that’s all I really needed. To hear some nice words & receive reminders that my ideas are cared about. So thank you SMG4 fandom for that, seriously thank you.

Please accept this Mr. Puzzle drawing as a way of sharing the happiness around. He’s so entertaining. Love him for simply existing. So glad we can all collectively be super attached to him (and the rest of the SMG4 cast of course). Can’t wait to see more incredible artworks from the fandom :)

Just incase anyone is confused by my vague description over which “animated video” I’m referring to here—hopefully this photo will help clarify lol. It’s this one!! Sorry about not outright stating the title at the start, I got carried away with writing!!

I’ve been in an odd place mentally when thinking about it. Wondering to myself if any of the attention is deserved considering it’s not even fully colored and could be dismissed as “low effort” content (despite taking several days making it). It’s easy to get into a trap of comparing yourself to others and questioning how much of the videos success is based on your skills, sheer algorithm luck, or only because you used popular characters and catered to a specific fandom. And then judging yourself by looking at other peoples videos. I’ve seen several artists post higher quality works then my own but it somehow gets less views. So why did mine succeed when others (who should have gotten just as much attention if not more) didn’t? Sometimes you feel like you’ve unfairly robbed them of that chance to be seen. However I’ve realized that I can’t ever expect views to be consistent—and comparing is pointless. So why worry about it or feel inadequate? I mean it’s pretty common for funny cat videos to go viral, so who am I to question the system lol. “Popular” YouTube videos can range from a passion project which took 7+ artists…to a clip of Toad singing Chandelier or a nonsensical Vine sketch. Anything can happen when it’s the internet! And just-so-happened my video was chosen. I should stay glad about that and get rid of all the overanalyzing. So that’s what I’ve chosen to do :)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Honestly your tags are so fun to read every time, i'm almost more excited for them than the actual post (but not entirely because your art is SO GOOD!!!! i adore it). If you don't mind me asking, what are you studying?

i am studying psychology because i refuse to see a therapist so ill figure out whats wrong with me myself !!!!!!!

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

favorite phenomenon is the existence of all the cute wizard city fanart entitled “this special looks so cute!! cant wait for it to come out!!” and “drew this while waiting for the last distant lands to air!! it looks really good!” and after it actually aired? radio silence.

[supersecretnerd]

Ok so these designs are cute as hell, the Internet is just mean

I have too many thoughts about a game I still need to watch

[goblin-enjoyer]

I swear why are half the things i like/fandoms im in made of mostly younger people while the other half are mostly older people? what are the zoggin odds with that?

How it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 30-40 somethings.

VS how it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 14-17 somethings.

like am do i just have extremely odd luck with things i like or is this just what being 20 is like?

[eggwishing]

little peek at somethjing i am cooking up ...

[b4kuch1n]

one thing I thought was missing from canon sk8 was the mine being haunted apparently. so we are bringing that into burnished house for absolutely no fucking reason

[eelslippers]

If anyone struggles with this problem but still wants to have a sketchbook full of full pieces, I've found that it is helpful to have a "pretty" sketchbook that you devote to art that you consider to be big pieces, like paintings and other stuff, one that you feel free to decorate to your hearts content, but it is absolutely ESSENTIAL to have an "imperfect sketchbook" as your main sketchbook. Make sure that the "pretty" sketchbook is used for special pieces but never more than the sketchbook you can just draw freely in. Save the "pretty" sketchbook for pieces that you show to others or post online, but have your "imperfect" sketchbook be just for you. Treat it like a diary.

If you really want to go further, I would even go as far as to suggest having a separate third sketchbook for learning purposes only, though you only really need two. Have the "imperfect" sketchbook be uglier intentionally, let yourself scrawl on the pages to get your ideas out, have it be on thin cheaper paper but have plenty of it. Don't be afraid to rip the pages a little, scribble until the paper tears, let the ink and paint bleed until the pages stick together, whatever. Let the art be MESSY. Cover it in stickers, washy tape, etc, but make each page feel loved even if it isn't meant to look pretty. Let it have random pages of notes, doodles, maybe even glue in some little pieces of love from your day to day to treat it like a scrapbook. Use this for drawings that look like they could go in the "pretty" sketchbook, but surround it with stuff only for you. If there's ever a page in either sketchbook with art you don't love, scrapbook something over it with something you do like. Make ugly mistakes on purpose and decorate them, so that your other mistakes feel just as loved, because as artists we are always learning and it's important to cherish what helps us create.

i don't like to yuck people's yum but i have to say that my least favorite thing to come from the current state of Artists on the Internet is the idea of a sketchbook as something nice and pretty and shareable. like i love me a notebook full of gorgeous art don't get me wrong but that is NOT what a sketchbook is. a sketchbook is my friend who i carry around everywhere like a purse chihuahua. it is the physical manifestation of my notes app. it is the container into which i wring my brain out. it is my therapist. and most of all it is filled with absolutely terrible sketches that should never see the light of day.

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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