#milky white orbs

[cbogpg-81]

TEASING

[clawsdevour]

࣪˖ ִ˚༄ gojo bf hcs

content warning: fluff, slight smut, cream pie mentioned, praise/degrade mentioned, my shitty writing, not proofread

ಇ.˚₊

-Gojo, the type of boyfriend to randomly spawn outside your house whenever he's finished with his duties. Doesn't matter what time it is, he just wants to see you before he leaves for his next shift. He'd also probably text you so much while he's out to let you know what he's up to.

-Gojo, the type of boyfriend to love holding hands and showing his love for you physically. When you're holding hands, he's definitely the one who's gonna end up swinging you away from happiness. He'd love to just give you simple pecks out of nowhere as well.

-Gojo, the type of boyfriend to always have a hand on you, by your waist or around your shoulders. He'd love to land a smack on your ass whenever you bend over to reach for something. He simply enjoys having your touch on the tips of his fingers.

-Gojo, the type of boyfriend to love going shopping with you. He'd always offer to hold your bags while you looked around and shop. Gojo would pick out something he'd like and tell you try it on for him. He loves waiting outside the dressing room to see you open the curtains in the outfits he picks for you.

-Gojo, the type of boyfriend to call you all the damn time. He's always so deprived to hear your voice ring in your ears. He could be mid-fighting and whip out his little cell phone to dial your number. Whenever he does this he's for sure talking about how he's about to finish this curse off and it cuts to sounds of the curse getting abolished while Gojo snickers in the back.

-Gojo, the type of boyfriend to definitely wow your parents upon meeting him with his eccentric appearance and earth-shattering aura that floods your house. They'd treat them like the special sorcerer he is until he unleashes his silly nature. Gojo absolutely loves your parents and they love him as well.

-Gojo, the type of boyfriend to have different sides to him when it comes to you cunt. It depends on the mood, atmosphere, lighting, and even where you're getting pounded. He'd have his needy moments where he lets you take control and moments where he's dominating you. Either way, his end goal is to make you feel absolute pleasure whenever his dick is inside you.

-Gojo, the type of boyfriend to absolutely tease the hell out of you when you got his mask on your face to surprise you with his touch. He'd edge you so much that he won't let you finish unless you obey all his words. He'd love to degrade you but also praise you while you're at it, saying things like how bad you are for him and how good you take his long slender fingers that curl into your sweet spot.

-Gojo, the type of boyfriend to have his dick fill you up so good you can't even mumble out words but moans. He'd kiss your cervix multiple times, making your spine shiver every time as euphoria washes over you. Gojo's mercilessly thrusting into you, making you lose your mind as always. When he climaxes he's filling your wet cunt to the brim with his milky white essence that seeps out.

-Gojo, the type of boyfriend to hold you close to him so tight after cleaning you up, never letting you go from his deadly grasp. Whenever you try to scooch off of him his needy raspy voice would always whine out 'where are you going?' His sleepy blue orbs would stare down at you while he's planting soft kisses on your head to tempt you to stay with him.

masterlist here

[suntoru]

─ ✰ WHIPPED 4 U!

─ SYNOPSIS: gojo satoru's a whiny baby when it comes to you.

─ WARNINGS: pure fluff, kissing, whiny gojo, suggestive at the end but not smut, cat being gojo's biggest hater

─ AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is canon GIGGLES I HOPE U LIKE IT!! cool people reblog n comment if u did <3

you're wholeheartedly convinced that gojo satoru, without a doubt, is the embodiment of a five-year-old child trapped in the towering physique of a grown man. "babeeeeeee..." he melodically whines, storming into the room with a cascade of faux tears threatening to spill from his mesmerizing teal orbs, each blink carrying the weight of dramatic distress. in a display of sheer drama, he clutches his finger as if it's a dire injury, letting out exaggerated sighs that could rival the most skilled actors.

his 6'3 frame drapes itself dramatically into your arms, and if you didn't know any better, you'd swear he's reenacting a tragic scene where his body had been sliced in two. (haha get it i'm sorry please don't come for me) theatrical whimpers escape him, each one carefully crafted to tug at your heartstrings, and he lifts his pointer finger, presenting it to you with the utmost flair. it's a spectacle that could put any tantrum-throwing toddler to shame, yet in the midst of it all, there's an undeniable charm to the childish antics of gojo satoru.

"milkis scratched me," he huffs, his gaze a glaring accusation directed at the unbothered pearly white cat adorned with a delicate satin pink bow. the feline culprit merely licks its paw, an image of serene innocence, blinking up at you with adoration as it meows and gracefully rubs against your leg. "see? a demon." he declares, shoving his wounded digit in front of your face, revealing a tiny cut barely grazing his skin.

you respond with a nonchalant sigh, seemingly unimpressed by the ordeal. gojo, however, wears a visible frown, his hands finding their way to your face as he squishes your cheeks with playful exasperation.

"so ya don't love me anymore." he pouts, his lips forming an exaggerated puppy dog expression, his wide, pleading eyes boring into yours. "you're choosing him over me??" a soft giggle escapes you, a teasing melody that only deepens the lines of his pout. in retaliation, you playfully flick his forehead, and he lets out a broken whine, nuzzling his face into the comforting crook of your neck.

"meanie." he murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled by the closeness. you playfully ruffle his hair, a mischievous smile dancing on your lips. deciding to indulge him in this lighthearted moment, you gently grip his chin, lifting it to meet your gaze. cooing as if he were a child, a teasing glint sparkling in your eyes as you play along.

"aww... my precious baby... whatever shall we do?" he willingly sinks into the warmth of your palm, lifting his injured finger for emphasis.

"kiss." he pleads, his bottom lip jutting out in a display of drama. obliging, you lean in, planting a sweet peck on his finger, accompanied by a playful 'mwah!' his initial pout falters slightly, basking in the attention you're graciously bestowing upon him. "better?" you ask, tilting your head, a playful smile lingering on your lips. but gojo has more demands, pointing to his forehead with a childlike innocence. without hesitation, you plant your plush lips right where he's pointing, barely holding back a giggle at the adorable display.

"you forgot here." he points to his cheek, and you humor him once again, planting a smooch on the designated spot. "my nose needs loving too." he whines, and with an eye roll, you indulge him, giving his nose the attention it apparently craves. "i think i need one more to be all better." he declares, this time pointing to his lips. his eyes close, anticipation written across his face as he puckers up, awaiting the sensation of your mouth against his.

"you're so greedy, 'toru." you complain, yet you succumb to his wishes, wrapping your arms around his neck. standing on your tippy toes, you feel his hands snake around your waist lovingly as you deliver the requested kiss on his lips.

his are buttery soft, radiating pure unadulterated warmth as gojo smiles against your own. the kiss is a gentle exchange, soft, sweet, and wrapped in an aura of innocence that makes you reluctant to pull away. after what feels like an eternity of shared breaths and lingering closeness, he eventually releases you, both of you left breathless and slightly dazed.

"s-satisfied?" you huff, your cheeks now tinted a rosy pink. with that signature mischievous glint in his eyes, he grins, and you can feel something twitch in his grey sweatpants. "if you're handin' out free kisses, i can think of something that needs a little lovin'."

© KAEFFEINEE 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[fear-is-truth]

kinktober day 14. . . NSFW MDNI 18+ tags: f!reader・mask fucking・kai is a warning

KAI ANDERSON curled his long fingers against your front wall, allowing you just enough time to adjust before applying more pressure, altering his pace. when he finally discovered the right pattern, you blindly gripped at his forearms, a whimper escaped your throat as you instinctively pressed yourself back against him. the dry chuckle that had begun to bubble up from his throat turned abruptly to a groan. kai was painfully hard, the warm, solid length pressing against your ass as the heel of his hand ground incessantly against your clit.

“could you. stop. moving. around?” he grunted irritably into your shoulder before smacking your asscheek. you wanted to argue, but all you could manage was a broken “f-fuck!” and then suddenly, he was shoving you away, your face smooshing into the mattress. you twisted your neck to glance back at him, a frustrated whine. kai was reaching for something on the floor, and when he straightened up, he was holding his clown mask. the blue one with three faces—blank, milky white orbs all glaring in different directions.

“hey,” he smirked, sitting up crossed legged. “there’s something i wanna try.” you watched the mask in annoyance, but there was something else too—an ominous feeling twisting in your gut. “what?”

kai set the mask carefully on the bed, the middle face staring blankly up at the ceiling. “you’re going to fuck yourself on my mask.” his tone was matter-of-fact. no room for argument. your face scrunched up in disgust.

“what the fuck, kai?”

“well, i’ve given you enough prep, so… shut the fuck up and sit on it.” this was utterly stupid and asinine. leave it to kai fucking anderson for coming up with this sort of idea. reluctantly, you put yourself in a kneeling position on the mattress and wedged the mask in the space between your thighs. wrapping your fingers around the base of the rubber nose of the middle face, you guided it to your core, adverting your shameful gaze from its leering frown.

then, a beeping sound pulled you from your thoughts. you looked up, only to see kai holding a camcorder, the red light blinking. “keep going, and eyes on the camera.”

there was an edge of annoyance in kai’s tone that made you obey without argument. you grazed the tip across your folds, collecting the wetness that had accumulated from your previous activities. taking a deep breath, you stared into the camcorder as you carefully sank down onto the rubber nose, lips parted in a silent gasp at the stretch and curvature. gripping firmly onto the other two noses on either sides of the mask, you lifted yourself by the knees, before impaling yourself back onto the middle nose with a lewd squelch. “hgnnn– oh god…”

rocking your hips, you came to the realisation that the curvature of the phallic nose was hitting your cervix just perfectly. it was at this moment that you noticed the tent that had formed at the crotch of kai’s jeans, and how he was slightly squirming in his seat as he recorded you.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[k-4-ni]

4 WHOLE HOURS (NSFW)

Ever think about what DICK GRAYSON does when you're off to work?

Just dick being a dick (and a pervert)

When he builds up the courage to finally peel his eyes open, hissing through clenched teeth as the sun seeps through the curtains, it feels like it is poking his eyes out.

When he looks over his shoulder, expecting to wake up to your limp and sleepy state, expecting to snag a whiff of your expensive perfume that you insist on putting on before going to bed, expecting to catch a glimpse of your pretty complexion (that he came on multiple times the night before.)

But he didn't.

He found himself staring mindlessly at the vacant slot next to him, a harsh wave of bitter air spreading throughout his skin, his fingers lightly tracing over the wrinkles of the sheets— a trace of you before you left.

He hates— No, Abhors when you go to work, he understands that you have your problems and responsibilities to lay off but why was work so early in the morning? It's not like you'd get fired if you took a day off.

Dick pressed his lips into a tight frown, the realization of your absence dawning on him— the realization that you weren't going to join him in breakfast, or his daily run, or his daily 10-minute session of cuddling and oozing into your warmth, or—

Stop.

He'll be fine, it's not like you're gone for—4 hours.

4 whole hours, 240 whole minutes alone, waiting (im)patiently for you to come back home so he could tackle you to the floor and have a perfect excuse to fuck your brains out— And to jerk off to your panties.

He can't help it, he's the eldest son of Bruce Wayne, the one and only Batman himself, but he's one whiny orb of fuzz and sex when it comes to you, his precious girl, his moon and stars, his honey and his home— his tiny fleshlight he could pound into whenever he likes because he knows you'll be such a good girl and take it like one.

1 hour and a half into the dreadful waiting session as he already has your red-laced panties (his favourite pair) bunched up in his hands and smothered into his nose, Oh god— Your fucking scent.

His calloused hand jerks him off until his brain is absolute mush and his thighs tense and cramp as he feels his stomach coil with that familiar sensation of release, so close— on the rim, fumbling with each breathy word, your name spilling from his quivering lips, over and over again.

The base of his cock drooling with a white and milky ring, his reddened tip oozing pre-cum, wishing it was you and your warm tongue cleaning him up of his mess, his chubby balls pulling taut with each stroke, his brain all fuzzy and a putty mess of filthy thoughts and all sorts of dirty fantasies playing in his head.

One of them, feeling your silky walls tightening and grope around his meaty cock, his tip angry and bulging out with a deep red hue— evidence of his desperate edging as his hips bucked furiously against his fingers, a jolt of electricity surging through his bones— moans and moans dribbling from his lips, heavy breaths and whimpers as he near his blinding release, a sigh of pure bliss and a slimy layer of slick sweat trickling down his eyebrows and temples.

Oh, what he would do just to feel your tight cunt keeping his cock nice and warm, smooching your pelvis with each deep plunge and thrust of his hips.

He was too lost in his fantasies of you, too lost to realize he dribbled a gooey mess of his thighs and the sheets, his tongue hungry for the sweet nectar of sex.

There was no way he was making it.

And there was no way you were going to walk tomorrow.

[draco-dormiens]

FOR ALL THAT IS RIGHT AND JUST - Flashback

auror!draco x auror!fem!slytherin reader / post-war au

warnings: strong language, angst, implied mental struggles, negative self deprecation, alcohol use, mild descriptions of wounds

wc: 2162

tags: @yeolsbubbles @send-me-styles @shinytalent @malfoylover4l

tag list open!!

masterlist

Draco's Story

Late July, 1998

"I've decided, Dray." Your voice is soft but laced with determination. He sits beside you, on the roof of his parents mansion, the window to his room just below your dangling feet, a cool night breeze licking his skin as the July heat still lingers in the air. "I'm going to become an Auror. After everything I've seen, after uncle Travers..." you pause for a long moment, staring up into the dark navy sky, dotted with glimmering white specs where, thousands and thousands of lightyears away, stars burn; big, bright, dazzling orbs, "I can't let it happen again. I can't allow other children to go through what we have, what you have. Even if it just a small change, I want to help make it."

He's silent for while. The bottle of Fire Whiskey you'd both been sipping on rests just between his knees. Bringing it to his lips, he takes a long drink before setting it back down. There are bruises on his knuckles, cuts on his arms, a nice gash to his forehead from where he'd managed to make contact with the floor outside of the Room of Requirement. If not for the boy he'd spent the last seven years envying with a seething jealousy, he would no doubt be dead. He owed Harry and his friends his life, and that, although a cold hard fact, did not settle well in the young Malfoy's stomach. He was bitter, scarred, and lost. Where did he go from here? All he had come to know, everything his parents had made him believe, was nothing but blind faith and complete ignorance.

Once a bully, preying on the weak and snarling insults at those he deemed lesser. Once a boy of great talent and expectations. Once the seeker for his house. Then a Death Eater, a coward and no better than those who tore the school to pieces.

He was no better, and he was no one. Not anymore; but he feels now, despite his prejudice over the years, that he wasn't really anyone to begin with. When the mark, that now is nothing but an ugly scar on his milky skin, was first placed upon his arm, he really had believed he was to be granted power and protection. All he had to do to bring his family glory was follow instructions. He thought he wanted this. He thought he was doing his parents proud. When he realised his misjudgment, it was far too late to change his mind.

Draco tried to murder. He tried to - but as much as he told himself it was his duty, the small flicker of who he really wanted to be started to burn a little brighter, a little hotter, until he smothered the flame and hexed Katie Bell and cast an unforgivable curse on Madame Rosmerta. Until he was face to face with his one mission, just to fail at the very last second and become the laughing stock of a group of rotten-minded wizards.

He can still hear you - sometimes in his sleep, sometimes when he wakes in the night.

"Please, just tell me what's wrong, Dray." You cried in the hallway that night, his wand tight in his grip. The sound of a happy, joyful Slug Club Christmas party was well underway further down the corridor. You, in your stunning emerald dress and diamond earrings he had gifted you the other year for your birthday, had begged him to confide in you multiple times. Daphne had written him off, Blaise and Theo told you he had changed and wasn't coming back. Pansy had a small amount of faith left, but it was fading quickly. Your sixth year was already turning out to be a monstrosity, and now the boy you would have called your very best friend had changed; he wasn't Draco anymore, he was colder, more bitter and worryingly paler. Albeit, his personality wasn't the warmest nore the most endearing to begin with, but since your childhood he had been a constant in your life.

And now he was anything but that.

"I've already told you," he says, lifeless and empty, "I don't want you getting caught up in anything. Just go back to the party, alright?"

"Why are you shutting me out?" You almost whimper, and the white knuckle grip on his wand only gets tighter, threatening to snap the wood in half. He hates this. He hates it.

But he must do it. To protect what he cares for.

"Please," he mutters helplessly, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at you. He fears if he looks at you fully, he might crumble into a million little pieces, "I'm trying to protect you. Let me at least do that. Please. Go back inside."

"Draco?" Your voices brings him out of his daze, his eyes landing on yours. A kindness had dwelled within them since you were children; a kindness that, even after all he's done, still shines through and touches his skin like warm sun. He stares back for a long while, not fully understanding why you still came to visit him. More than two months since the war ended, since his family faced trial after trial and escaped with their dignity hanging by a mere thread. He hadn't heard from the others; Blaise, Pansy, Goyle. Not that he particularly cared. It appeared they would have rather saved what reputation they had left than mingle with fellow betrayers like himself.

He can't say he blames them.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, brushing some of his white-blond hair from his face, "you can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you."

"Why?" he simply asks, and you almost look surprised at the question.

"Because you're still you, Dray," you whisper, a ghost of a smile at your lips, "many things have happened. I know now why you couldn't talk to me about... well, everything. But you can now, and I'm here to listen. Please, don't try and battle this on your own."

The warm summer air ruffles the hair around your familiar, comforting face. He thinks that someone up there might not think so bad of him, to keep you coming back even when he's troubled you more than anyone else. A slight smile cracks on his face, something you hadn't seen in many, many months. The sight of it almost brought you to tears.

"You know," he says quietly, "I'd have kicked my sorry ass to the curb if I were you. I haven't exactly been kind to you; or anyone, over the last few months. I've done some really fucked up shit. Yet, here you are, drinking my Dad's Fire Whiskey on the roof with me." He shuffles a little closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, as you willingly accept his embrace, cuddling into his warm and familiar body. You liked to believe he was still in there, the real Draco. The one that sometimes, unknowingly, allowed you to see little glimpses into his life. He's a collector of sorts; not like his father, but in a more sentimental and valuable way. Many a time have you caught him putting a rather nice looking pebble in his pocket, thinking no one had seen him take a shine to such a trivial thing. He enjoys the piano, and although he never plays for anyone, you had caught him mid song one summer during a visit to his home. You can still hear him scold you for sneaking up on him and making you swear not to tell anyone. He reads - not your typical story books or novels, but educational books about Astrology and Alchemy. Sometimes, when you had met in the library, he'd been so invested in a book, his eyebrows pierced together and a look of pure concentration on his face, that he hadn't noticed you standing beside him until you nudged him slightly. Another scolding, but something about the way he grumbled that he was 'just passing the time because you took so long' had you convinced there was no malice in it whatsoever.

Draco never had a heart of gold. He was never a shining example of friendship, or the best at expressing his feelings, or had the best attitude towards things he found unbefitting of him. Throughout the years you had argued about his mean streak, about his nature towards certain students, but as if joined at the hip, you had remained close, and his brashness was ever so slightly tamer with you. His words weren't as sharp, or as jarring, and he often made a point of saying 'if you go, I will' or 'as long as you think so.' Despite his blooming admiration for you, he still remained a little hesitant to treat you completely different.

And he was still in there. You were sure of it. He was in there - the Draco you had come to love.

"I wouldn't be a very good friend if I did that, would I?" you say lightheartedly, and you feel him squeeze you a little tighter, "you will get passed this Draco. You will heal; inside and out, and you will go out into the world and make a good name for yourself. You will make yourself proud - it doesn't matter about anyone else. Just do what's right for you."

He ponders for a moment, stroking your hair gently, calming himself as he leans his chin on the top of your head. The world made no sense; his place in it seemed none existent, but as if a small glimmer of hope had pierced his heart, he starts imagining the future.

"Do you think they'd have me?" He then asks you, and you pull back slightly to look up at him.

"Who?" You say.

"The Aurors," he then responds, matter of fact, "do you think they'd... accept someone like me."

"You want to be an Auror?" You say excitedly, and his heart, for the first time in a very long time, begins to feel lighter at the look on your face. All this time and you're still the prettiest girl he'd ever laid his eyes on. He shrugs and looks away.

"I dunno, I was just thinking out loud," he said, fingers still playing with the ends of your hair. Then he laughs, a shallow and bitter laugh, "like they'd want me. Imagine me showing up to help someone - they'd asked for someone else. It'd be fucking joke."

"It might not be," you say in all seriousness, "why does it have to be like that? As much as you may think things are set in stone, they are not, Draco. You decide how the future goes. You decide what happens from now on. If it starts that way then change their minds. Your past does not define you. It's what you do, how you learn, that does."

"Sure you don't want to be a therapist or something?" He jokes lightly, and you giggle. Draco truly believes that something holy keeps you around a mess like him. Once Voldemort's threat was over, you were the first person at his door. The first and only person to check on him. A ray of light in the deep, dark hole he was falling into.

"I've made up my mind," your giggle comes to a holt, and you look at him with a sheer determination sparkling in your eyes, "it's time for you to do the same, Dray."

The reception he received was nothing short of foul. Minister Shacklebolt treated him the same as any other new recruit, but his fellow Auror's did not feel so welcoming. He mainly stuck by you throughout the training phase, and kept his distance from Potter and Weasley. There were whispers, odd looks and uneasy feelings, but with your guidance, he found himself at the Ministry. After the first year, he had become accustomed to people's shock once they saw him, and even more so from how tolerable he can be when he wanted. Sometimes he even made little jokes about it, and your heart soared at the difference in him. The higher ups soon discovered his talents and willingness, and his career, much like your own, began to blossom.

So, when you barge into Potter's office ten years later, raging about the travesty in the foyer, he thanks Merlin, Salazar and anyone who'll listen when you grace him with that same presence he finds himself missing like a limb when you're not around. An Auror in his own right, a gifted and talented wizard who's knowledge in Occlumency had boded well in his profession, a better man, but still the same whiny, mischievous Malfoy he's always been. He may be a dashingly handsome young man, but his childish ways, short temper and bad attitude never quite left him - and yet he's your heart and solace all the same.

Harry may have saved his life, but without a shadow of a doubt, you saved his soul.

disclaimer: i do not own harry potter or any of the characters or storyline associated with it

[eternalstarlitwonderland]

Girl Among The Stars

With a silvery flicker, her effulgent glint pierced through the darkness

Vanquishing the tenebrosity within

Fluorescent butterflies scattered everywhere, and they fluttered throughout

Brightened the tenebrous emanation

Observing the once-glorious terrace becoming a shattered and fragmented shell of its former self

Wandered through the intergalactic ruins, accompanied by some of the butterflies

Being fascinated by its gradual transition from glorious to fractured in a matter of seconds

She situated herself on one of the fragmented pillars and looked up at the sparkly skies

Gazed up at the twinkling stars above

Softly illumined in its starlit glint

Pondered about her legacy and how she would be remembered by future generations

She knew that she was immortal, yet she wondered if and only if

When her time came, she slowly turned into dust

Her legacy will live on through the stars and their brilliant flicker

A fluorescent butterfly landed on her fingertips and delicately illuminated

Starlight softly whispered as the butterfly irradiates

Exquisitely illumined her delicate porcelain features

The pure white glint softened her piercing brilliant blue orbs

The opalescent glow still smoldered, softly drifting overhead the galactic sky

The effulgence heals her wounds

She succumbs to its blazing coruscate

Her eyes are slowly closing

Her body relaxes to the warmth gleam

Falling into an astral slumber, and engulfing her in its refulgence

With a silvery scintillate, she was awakened by its effulgence

She knows that she's not familiar with this cosmic atmosphere

She asked herself how she got here

By an effulgent flicker? Or By a refulgent gleam?

Who knows...

She's here in the cosmos, being caught by the lustrous light, glistering brightly

Her porcelain white skin illuminated in its cosmic luminesce

Seeing quintillion stars brightly twinkling

Nestling in the Orion's belt

She notices a bright light coming toward her

That light was very familiar

The warmth gives her a sense of comfort

Although it was faint, it remaining

A fluorescent butterfly appears once again, and its phosphorescence keeps her company

With a silvery wink, she basks in its ethereal shimmer

The Milky Way brilliantly resonates in the cosmos

Shine glary brilliant

The cosmos and its thrilling wonders

A sanctuary away from the constant battles

Allows her to decompress and unwind

At Last, she feels at home, In a macrocosm so far away

The cosmos welcomed her with open arms

Its astral gleam warmly embraced her

She was so heartened to be truly embosomed

Then she knew that she belonged among the stars

[harveybwabbit92]

Speedy ultra facts (Revised, with a few more facts):

4 out of the original 6 ultra brothers are actually related to each other.

Taro and Ace are brothers, Seven is their cousin.

Jack is married to one of Mother of Ultra's sisters making him Seven, Taro and Ace's uncle.

Seven has a sister and brother.

Seven was raised by his sister after his mother died.

Seven, Jack and Taro have children.

Seven is Zero's father.

Taro is Taiga's father

And Jack has an unnamed son.

(And I guess Ace counts too? since he's Ultraman Z's godfather.)

Taro and Ace are the sons of Father and Mother of Ultra.

Ace is adopted.

Mother and Father's real names are Ken and Marie.

Ultraman is a university professor.

Leo and Astra are twins and princes.

Zoffy is apparently the grandson of ultraman King.

Zoffy smokes (in the manga he does anyways)

An Ultra-baby appears in it's capsule for a few seconds at the end of Mega Monster Battle: Ultra Galaxy Legends in the crowd of ultras who have been unfrozen.

The baby parents are a red(or silver) father and a blue mother.

Jack is one of the few original ultra brother's who stays in regular contact with his human host.

Ultraman Mebius's favorite food is curry.

Zero has a childhood friend named Voice who is a musician.

Ultra's mouths can open and close considering they also need to eat and drink.

Father of Ultra is terrified of angering his wife.

Taro and Ace used to have a pet dog.

Apparently there are cats and dogs in the Land of Light, though they look very different from their Earth counterparts. (Cos Aliens)[though in the comics the pup looks like a normal dog, but in the show it looks like white puffball wit' spider legs.]

Mother of Ultra has at least two sisters, one of whom married jack and the other is Seven's mother.

80 is adopted (at least in the manga adaption he is.)

80's adoptive father's name is Ultraman Red and he's Father's best friend.

Color timers were surgically grafted onto an ultra's chest in early childhood. (Taro has his as a young child in Ultraman Story and Ultraman boy has one...but then there's Geed whose timer really was grafted onto him after birth...Ah, I'm not going down this rabbit hole.)

{(Okay, I went and reviewed the wiki and some other sources on this the Color timer thing has been sort of retconned, They changed the age for Color timers to teen or adult Ultras who have the choice if they want to have a color timer or not (there are lot civvy ultras who don't have a color timer), and that it's mainly for Ultras whose jobs require them to travel off planet or for Ultras who are active warriors in the IGDF. but for the earlier installments (like the original 60s lore) it was at birth.)}

The reason Ultraseven doesn't have a color timer is cos he wasn't meant to be a fighter. His original mission was to scout out and draw a map of the milky way galaxy.

The creator of Pokemon was inspired by Ultraseven, in fact the reason it's called Pokemon is because the name Capsule monsters was already copyrighted by Tsuburaya.

Most Ultras are born through gestation capsules.(However according some of the novels *they might be outdated and thus not considered canon anymore* There are a few that still make babies and give birth the ol'fashion way.)

Fuma, Gai and Jugglus are from the same planet O-50.

The inhabitants on O-50 Aren't born ultras their original forms, As much as it sucks are human-like in appearance, but they do have super abilities to sort of make up for it. The only true way to become an Ultra on O-50 is by being chosen by the Light ring or The voice of light to become one.

The Light Ring/Voice of light is this big blue halo that floats over the planet O-50 that sometimes gives people super powers... ([there's not a lot info on O-50 other then the few snippets from the R/B novel, Orb saga and Fuma's voice drama, so work with me here])

O-50's trial to become an Ultra requires one or more people who must climb to the very top of the planets highest and deadliest mountain: Crusader's peak. Now, they can do this completely on their own or be summoned personally by the Light ring. (According to Fuma a lot of people fail the trial because they either kill each other or die on the climb up.) Anyway when they reach the peak the Ring will pass judgement if they're worthy or not, if they're found worthy then it grants them the power they need to turn into an ultra....If not then, it'll electro yeet them off the mountain like it did with Jugglus.

Though not inhabitants of O-50 themselves, the original R/B/G siblings crashed landed there and got the power to transform into their ultra and Kaiju forms, from the Light ring while to fighting off a monster they'd accidentally woke up while fighting off a gang that had chased them off their home planet.

According to Fuma, Grigio is considered an idol on O-50.

Now on to U-40 Where the inhabitants are called Ultra-people who are all born human in appearance, they're just ultras but human size.

the ancient inhabitants of U-40 through unknown means created the Ultra mind. (It's a core of light that works similarly to the plasma spark.) which helped them achieve a higher state of spiritual evolution that transformed them into ultras.

Unlike their M-78 counter parts the U-40 ultras can't naturally grow into giants; except for this small group of eight warriors who have achieved the ability to grow giant, though much like the creation of the Ultra mind this isn't fully explained on how or why this can happened. (though in Titas's backstory it hints at that it might be connected to resolve and finding balance within one's self.).

Despite that the few inhabitants of U-40 that can turn giant prefer to stay small or in their human forms rather then their giant forms.

Unlike the land of light U-40 still has it's sun and thus has day and night cycles, though one of it's two moons was destroyed by the Heller Army (the bad guys of The⭐Ultraman anime.).

[.....Though, I think I heard somewhere that the Land o light Ultras use technology that's similar to switchable film windows or something to mimic a night-cycle (Well, indoors they do anyways.) but I could be misremembering.]

Titas is a dark giant.

Titas was born in the dark nebula to two soldiers in the Heller Army but his parents didn't want him to follow in their footsteps, so they sent him as an infant to U-40 where he could grow up safely and choose his own path.

Ultraman X possibly dated an alien space cat monster Mu who looks like a cross between a Beholder from DnD and a cat, she also had memory erasing farts.

X doesn't remember dating Mu...

Ultraman thought humans were too primitive to have develop the ability to fly, He was proven wrong moments later by getting hit in the face by a jet being flown by his host Shin Hayata.

Ultras aren't completely made of energy, they actually have skeletons and organs that are sort similar to a human's but also having a few extras that are very alien.

Ultras stop aging at around 10000 years and 1 ultra year is equivalent to 300 human years.

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: Just a little something I was inspired to write (listening to instrumental sax music gets me going, lol). Enjoy!

~*~

You were smiling, you were giggling. Both sporting secret grins, warmed skin flooded with an overindulgence that came from an open window, one that let in winter’s air without remorse. And it wasn’t supposed to happen this way, you were just on your shared lunch break, upon his soft carpet, sharing a can of Coke, shredding on magazine model standards and going through his records. You never thought his attempts to prove he could do some top secret muscle man move would end up in him on top of you, that milky white smile illuminating every mole and freckle that dotted his defined neck, winding around his tendons, tracing across his jaw, only to splatter over his cheeks. And then he saw you, really drank you in, leaving him to look at you in a realization you were sure would never come to pass.

He’d nodded and you’d obliged. His calloused thumb working on the cream button, unbuttoning your blouse, pushing too gently to see the lace blush of your bra. Your breasts heaved into the cups, every nerve ending a blaze from the loose embers that escaped his hazel orbs. Those very same thumbs left an echoing sound. He breathes and you inhale, the defined bridge of his nose nudging its way into your cheekbone as his mouth meets yours.

His voice is honey-hot, shrouded in a whispers’ rasp when he asks, “What?”

“Nothin’,” you mutter, carding a hand through his caramel layered tresses. “Just you, that’s all.”

“What about me, honey?” A brief frown pulls his bushy brows together.

“You’re you, Steve Harrington. One-hundred percent, unashamedly, authentically you. And I love being here with you like this, did you know that?” You tug apart his polo to glide your fingertips across the chest hair that peeks out from the collar.

Steve is blushing now, a shy little grin quirked at the corners of his mouth. You wanna kiss it so bad. You permit yourself to fondle the gold chain around his neck into a jostle, bringing it out and bringing him forward to meet your mouth. The gold links tickle your chin and drip across your jaw, making you quiver into his hold.

It’s not the winter chill that’s suddenly making you shiver anymore…

~*~

“Wanna put some of my fingers inside of you. Can you take a couple of them for me, baby?”

You’ll do anything that he asks you at this point, and you always will. You’re nodding as he dips his thumbs into the straps of your bra and tugs them down so slowly that goosebumps pepper your flesh. Steve captures the swell of your breasts the way it sits in the cup, working that massive palm down between your legs and into your panties.

“Jesus Christ!” It’s a rather rapid statement, which causes Steve to pull back a little. Worry presses his blown pupils.

“You okay?”

“I just…” you pause, attempting to gather yourself. How can you even form a coherent thought when Steve Harrington has his entire hand cupping your overly wet cunt, leaving you a jumbled and heaving mess of pathetic limbs, all willed by his touch, like some puppet on a string????

“You just?” Steve is pausing to give you the time you need, eyes locked and spare hand curled, knuckles stroking your cheekbone.

“I just never want you to stop touching me.”

He captures your mouth with a trembling fervor, and his hand begins to explore further.

It’s not the heat that blows through the furnace of Steve Harrington’s house that’s suddenly making you hot anymore...

// Eat me paragraph //

[darkdemeter]

READER AND DEATH "BEING PARENTS" FOR 1.3K WORDS

Death x (GN/)Female Reader

Uhm what do I say about this piece? Idfk. Figured I should stop writing it where it was before it got outta hand. Teacher this is my assignment. (Dunno if I'm gonna continue writing this idea or delete it and watch it burn in a dumpster fire while I sip coffee).

WARNINGS...?

AAAAAAHAHAHA! I intended it to be a cute, fluffy and funny drabble thing but I don't even know at this point.

“No.”

“Yes,” Death answers simply. 

You heave up with a grunt, the weight shocking you given how Fury is the size of a toddler, her features shrunken except the eyes that remain as large, milky white orbs. Her lips screw into something of a pout. You see her fiery temper is trapped inside her tinier body. Placing her down and gasping, you reach for Strife who’s hands clench and open, a grumbling whine escaping him.

 No way this happened. 

“How?” you ask, mouth agape and contorted into a troubled, confused frown. “Strife, say something! Anything!” He only babbles something between an infant’s prattle and some otherworldly language. Your features smoothen out into an unamused purse of your lips. Your eyes fixate on Death who harbours the third of his siblings, who for a raging machine of pain and chaos, is surprisingly subdued while sat atop the eldest Horseman’s shoulders, hands clasping ahold of Death’s raven locks. 

As it turns out, Vulgrim the Soul Eater possesses a variety of interesting artefacts. Death’s account is that said powerful manifestation which the Horsemen were tasked in retrieving for the demon trader, the gem had combusted after misuse and his three younger siblings were incidentally turned into… Well, babies. 

You set Strife back to ground level, your mind too far gone into a spiral to notice the pitter-patter of footprints rush off. Death bends down to do the same for War. “I thought you would have some clue as to what to do with them, since humans have a child-rearing nature.”

“Me? You’re older than me by millions of years. Really you’d have a better idea!” you hiss back, tempting fate as you jab a finger at the pale rider’s chest. 

Death’s comeback comes as a sharpened growl, “I never sired any offspring!”

Unsure whether the flush that invades your system belongs to your bafflement to such a confession, or that fact that you teeter to-and-fro on the fine line between a school girl crush and pure hearted love for the rider before you. 

With a defeated huff, you turn on your heel and Death steps forward, his arm just barely grazing against yours as you both now set your attention to the other three riders who now have free roam of your home. 

“Do we know how long it’ll last?” you ask the eldest nephilim as you scratch at the back of your head. He gives a low and long sigh, his shoulders falling and his posture pushing forward that little bit more, but continues to tower over you quite a bit. 

“I’m not sure…”

Before you is the second apocalypse in the making, with three little terrors to pin the crime on. The little rascals were tearing your lounge room apart by the minute and all you could do was watch, and all Death could do was obviously let your nurturing instincts take over. After all, he didn’t have children of his own back in his day. So of course it was a battle of shifting the responsibility onto each other as you both danced around, keeping the rambunctious three out of trouble and from destroying everything in their wake. 

“No Strife, you can’t eat that,” you scold firmly and endure a game of tug-of-war that you refuse to admit losing, with Strife even as the size of a toddler but the age of a year old baby, he is still overwhelmingly strong. 

“Are— all— Nephilim babies this— strong?” you heavily pant between each yank and stretch shared between you and Strife who laughs at your expense. You feel the muscles in your arms tire already but eventually you manage to snatch the stool from him, the legs marked with deeply embedded teeth marks. 

“Quite so.”

So there was some form of child rearing with their race. Death has never been that forward with the history of his people, and you didn’t feel it was your place to push. But it brought an interesting thought to the forefront.

Before the spike-haired nephilim can start a tantrum, you take Strife up and into your arms, his hands immediately seeking out to grab your hair. Meanwhile, Death holds a very temperamental Fury by the scruff of her neck, his amber eyes narrowed thinly as he rasps a curt, deep-noted, “No.”

Her small fists punch and swing no to avail, babbling something in a tongue you can barely comprehend and pure infant prattle. 

Death remains largely unphased as War thunders towards him in a short sprint, head and shoulders arched forward and rutting his head into his brother’s leg with a shrieking battle cry. With his other hand he does the same to War, holding the siblings that now enact their annoyance onto each other, what with the lack of Death’s engagement to their fight. 

You’re struggling to even balance upright with Strife attempting to crawl over your shoulder, his overbearing weight threatens to crush you where you stand. 

“Not so easy to deal with now, is he?”

“Shush, let me think.”

Death only chuckles in reply, the sound a crawling timbre you avoid paying any further attention to unless you wish to cave to your feelings right there and then. 

You tap a finger to your chin as you ponder the next several steps, in which Death sparingly sneaks glances of your focused gaze, you put Strife down and sternly tell him to stay put before moving away to some hidden portion of the house to come back with a something the pale nephilim can only assume to be a torture device. 

And he thought you were incapable of sheer cruelty up to this point. 

“I used to take care of puppy litters for friends. This,” you pause as you set up the makeshift area, “will keep them in one place.” 

Turning towards Death, you can only assume he’s raising a brow at the contraption. “A cage?”

“Sorta… it’s just somewhere we usually place pets – or misbehaving children!”

Your tone rises louder as you make direct eye contact with Fury and Strife, who attempt to fight one another, with War merely dangingling in Death’s grip. How he carries them with no sweat to his brow, you hardly understand. You chalk it up to his inhuman strength. 

Now to get the three into the playpen. Death was secure in his role, easily dropping War and Fury in with no problem. It’s you who suffered with Strife making a beeline out of the lounge. For a baby of superhuman strength, he also possessed his supernatural speed as well. 

And so, Death was treated to the sight of you chasing around an infant, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilting every so often in the direction that followed you both. 

But his entertainment had to be brought to its conclusion, seeing that you’re faring unwell, he conducts his mannerism with a touch of sympathy and snatches Strife as he makes to sprint past. The young thing is spiteful for this betrayal, hissing like some beast cub and babbling again in that foreign tongue, Death casts Strife into the playpen with his siblings. 

“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” you bitterly scowl with a glare, approaching the pen with waning breath. 

Death’s large shoulders move up into a shrug. “Think of it as a debt repaid for all the times we were chasing you around.”

Your bottom lip sinks inwards, your teeth biting down upon the lump of flesh. The amount of times you inherently wandered and ran off while under their care had indeed written a long overdue receipt. 

“Humans are curious and all that,” you mumble more to yourself as if it would serve as some form of justification but Death can only scoff at your so-called reasoning, no doubt rolling his eyes. 

“So what now?”

“I guess we have to wait it out.”

[officerrrfriendly]

The Taken, First Strike.

stranger things conjuring!AU, priest!steve harrington x demonologist/clairvoyant!fem reader.

With an abundance of reluctance, your feet found themselves taking brave steps one after another as they eventually met a birch-wood doorway. But it wasn't any ordinary doorway, inside sat her. The frail and misfortunate Maxine Mayfield, who you still referred to as such- out of a habit of profession- much despite her insistence on "just calling her max, she doesn't go by Maxine anymore."

And in that moment, all of your previous doubts from earlier flooded back into your brain, before you could give into them and turn back, she spoke out. She called your name, a glint of hope present in her tone with some desperation, too.

You sigh heavily to try and alleviate all the weight you suddenly feel pressing against your chest before you eventually reply.

"Hi, Maxine," you mutter, smiling softly before slowly approaching the vacant armchair beside her, full of funky patterns and colours. She sat timidly, her hands held onto one another whilst fingers from each hand wandered over freckles on the backs of her hands she had forgotten she had. Her hair was shorter now, bobbed and fell just below her ears but she was still so beautiful. You tried your hardest to avoid looking into the milky white orb of her left eye and the thick bandage that covered the gaping wound on her right.

If you thought about that night for any longer, you thought you would just about lose your mind- so you shook your head of protruding thoughts and focussed on the topic of importance here, which was the girl beside you.

She laughs, and this time it wasn't humourless or dry but it was real, amusing. "How many times have I told you to just call me Max, hm?" she pokes, she sits further up in her seat as you laugh along with her.

"If I had to guess...I'd say only about 100 million times," you say, with a sigh. Your answer makes her smile for a moment but then she sighs, something is clearly bothering her.

Unexpectedly, without needing encouragement to open up, she speaks. "No one's visited in a while, Lucas...he finds it hard coming here, seeing me like this. He's never said it- but..." she huffs, lowering her head down to the floor. "I know that every time he's here with me he's just stuck in that night, what happened to Billy...me. Even though I can't see him, I can sense it, he's terrified to be around me and I hate it. I hate it because I love him so much...do you have somebody like that?" As the forbidden question leaves her tongue it triggers thoughts you had wished to never think about again, you think of him- and how neither of you haven't seen or spoken to each other since that very night.

Your head shakes, wishing to be done with the thought of Father Steve, and how you've treated him since after the night of July 4th 1983...at the exorcism of Billy Hargrove.

"I'd rather not answer that question... Honey, tell me more about what's been going on with Lucas!"

.•.•.•

You wipe desperately at your tears as they fall on your way to your ocean-blue Austin Maestro car. Your fingers struggle to keep up with the vast amount that began to flood out of your tear ducts.

You harboured a considerably brave face - despite Max not being able to notice it- throughout the entire hour after Max had asked you that god-forsaken question to which you had no answer.

She had talked about Billy, her nightmares, PTSD, her love life and even her mom running off to the other side of the world with her new young boyfriend and a bottle of Jack...she lived a sad life, one you had hoped to someday be able to save her from. You wanted her to come and live in your miniature, yet cosy townhouse you had inherited from your late father Richie, god bless his soul.

Seeing her so frail and lonely, woke a sadness inside you that hadn't long gone away, however that sadness also carried a fuckton of guilt. The guilt of knowing that if you had actually, fully prepared for what you were getting into, perhaps you could have saved Billy Hargrove, Max's eyesight (and her sanity), along with her family.

CLONK, you pull on the door handle to the driver's side door and hop inside before taking one last pitiful glance at the hospice. "I'll be back for you...Max," you mutter.

You turn the rusty key into the ignition. The engine fires to life.

.•.•.•

Days had passed and now you were sitting, pondering in your office inside your humble abode. Max hadn't left your mind since your previous visit and you were thinking through the idea that has floated into your noggin and is actively refusing to leave.

A THUD snaps you out of your daydreams and you quickly glance up from your oak-stained desk to see the culprit who dropped four thick textbooks in front of you, stacked on top of one another. You groan when you realise that it's just Robin, the nosy librarian-now-assistant with a child-like grin on her face. 'Oh, she's up to something' you thought, rolling your eyes before asking- "What is it now, Roberto?" you ask, intrigued as you sit up in your seat.

"I think I may have a case for you, Psychic Sally." she grins smugly, pulling a picture of a young boy out of her pocket.

Now that caught your attention.

"Tell me everything."

And she does, she tells you about how a 'Joyce Byers' had called several times today whilst you were out buying groceries begging to speak with you, for your help and assistance as she believes something is gravely wrong with her 11-year-old boy Will and has been ever since they moved into their house two weeks ago with her fiance, Bob.

She claimed a fever, a change in behaviour, sickness and bruising randomly appearing all over his body seemingly coming from nowhere. OH! And not to mention whatever 'entity' is wreaking havoc among them is causing a putrid, rotten smell to linger throughout the entire house...and her dog suddenly died the first night living there after it refused to enter the home.

You were going to visit the Byers' residence...but not alone.

You had somebody to visit.

"Call Father Steve and tell him I need to speak with him immediately, please Robin," you demand, sighing nervously. as your right foot begins to shake uncontrollably under the table.

"Are you sure that's a...I...uhhh-yes! yes, I will go and do that for you right now, if that's...are you sure that's what you want to do because you know I can totally-" she rambles, her voice high-pitched and unsure.

You can't find words so you nod repeatedly, sporting a polite smile and motion at the door. She nervously laughs, gulping "Ha ha ha ha, well! I am just gonna - yep! Haha! Going," she begins to back out of the room pointing to the door, "going..." she reaches the handle before forcibly chuckling, "and gone!" she shuts the door and you can hear her scold "What the hell is wrong with you?...freak!! god...how do I still have this job?"

.•.•.•

"God...how do I still have this job?" Robin questions, huffing embarrassedly. She treks down the terracotta-painted hallway, full of plants and pictures of who Robin had learned to have been your late father. She had found that out accidentally on the first day of moving in with you when she asked, "Is that your husband?" which sparked a very awkward, tense conversation that you both had very quickly laughed off.

She had reached the coffee-coloured door with the cream handle and twisted it, opening the door to her room- filled with posters of Molly Ringwald, Phoebe Cates, Lisa Bonet, Madonna you name it and she had it!!

Full of purpose she sits on her side of the bed, cross-legged and grabs the telephone from her bedside table and dials Father Steve's number carefully before knawing on her lip and impending an answer.

The phone rings a good three times before there's an answer.

"Hello?"

A/N - Hi babies!! how was that?! I know it wasn't the longest but its just to give the story a good push before we really dive into the plot and have some fun. Poor Max :(( SHE DESERVES BETTER!! and poor Chester, such a sweet dog.

LMK how you found this chapter!!

current taglist: @stveharringtn

comment to be added loves :))

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

𝑻𝒐 𝑫𝒊𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 - hyunjin x reader x felix au fanfic

CHAPTER 3

4 - I found God, I found him in a martyr

His breathing is so soft and shallow, tiny whimpers and pleasure laced moans slipping from his lips. His fingers thread gently through the crown of your head, pushing back the wisps of your hair so it doesn't fall in your face, eyes squinty and then fully closed, and then open again cause he can't decide whether he wants to fully look at you in the face while you suck the soul out of him or if he just prefers to concentrate on the wet sounds and the feeling of your mouth alone.

"Uuuh..oh oh ... mmmh'soclose mhm", he whispers in the softest voice, his chest tightening with the pressure building up, he squeezes his eyes shut once again and tilts his head back as he inhales deeply, even scrunching up his nose in concentration, "mmmh mmmh fuck fuck i-m cum-i'm coming fuck", he whines, his vowels stretching out desperately as he starts twitching.

You look up at him from beneath your lashes, the whole spectacle of him choking on his breathing, his knees shaking, his ears and cheeks flushing red as his length throbs and twitches in your mouth, hands flying to yours so he can guide the intensity of the last few pumps until he completely surrenders to the overwhelming wave of pleasure that erupts both metaphorically and physically all over his lower abdomen and your mouth, your chin and your chest.

Body going lax, shoulders slumping and face covered in sweat, Felix falls down on his back on the bed, panting and groaning throatily. You sit back down on the floor, your knees finally finding some relief as your weight is shifted back on your bum,you pick up a few tissues from the box on your nightstand and numbly start cleaning yourself up quietly.

"God I'm so sorry". Felix drags his hands down his cheeks frustratedly and reaches for a few tissues himself, helping you clean up as well, he swipes at the corners of your mouth and the milky white still dripping from your chin, the stringy ribbons pooling on your chest and down your tank top as you look at him perplexedly.

"What are you sorry about?", you ask, rising up your brow in confusion, passing him a new clean tissue, the blonde boy sighs, he flinches when the soft paper touches his still sensitive skin but makes a quick job of it, pulling his boxers and his pants right back up in one swift move, "I made a mess", he mutters, he looks incredibly upset, he even winces while cleaning up the last residue on your neck, as if he's physically hurting.

You look at him suspiciously. He has never acted like that before, ever. You can't phatom any reason why he would be sorry for functioning like a regular man, like any other time before today. "It's supposed to be messy though? I don't get it. You look strangely upset", you comment, perhaps sounding slightly too harsh even if it wasn't your intention.

Felix stops in his motion, the crumpled corner of his tissue still lingering on your neck, "I feel dirty. I always do", he deadpans. You open and close your mouth once, staring at him in confusion, "why would you feel dirty? I don't mind, I really don't", you shrug purposefully but he just frowns.

A light finger tracing the apple of your cheek, smudging the sweat and makeup residue on your skin, "when you come hard you just breathe really really fast, your eyes go all glossy and big and then they turn into two lazy, shiny orbs, you almost look high. And your cheeks flush red and your chest glistens. Sometimes you scream silently, some others you cuss under your breath. You whimper a little and then you melt in my arms. And it's beautiful and delicate".

Felix presses his lips together and sighs, his hands dropping to the side. His words echo in your head. A far away, vague reverberation of what Hyunjin used to say too. The resemblance so unmistakably there it makes you shiver.

"~There, angel, there yeah... that's it that's it"~ . Hyunjin carefully slides out the last of his fingertips and presses his lips on the side of your neck as you writhe and shake in his arms, your back arching one last time against his chest as he holds you in his embrace, a large hand splayed underneath your breast, the other still ghosting your outer folds, slowly helping you coming down from your climax.

"You look drunk it's so beautiful. Looking at you come it's like looking at you being born again, it's like watching you ascend to heaven", he whispers in your ear, his warm breath so close to your cheek its drying up the perspiration beading on your face. Your hands climb up his neck and cup his cheek briefly before reaching for his long black locks which you pull at, trying to ground yourself blindingly just by feeling him, solid, firm but soft underneath you.

"Perhaps-perhpas I found god", you mumble, blissfully exhausted.

"You come and it's like something spiritual, it's like watching you bloom. I come, and I come hard and ...it's just a mess, it's vile".Felix's defeated voice brings you back to reality, forced to face the sorrow weighing him down. You swallow hard, trying to set aside the eerie resemblance of the scenes and the words flashing in your mind,mostly,the feelings they evoke in you.

It saddens you, unexpectedly, how upset he is: "Felix it's okay ...", you try, tentatively reaching out for his hand, tryng your best to reassure him even though it's not your forte in the slightest.

He sniffles quietly and avoids your gaze,looking down at his hands as if they're the only thing he can concentrate on, "what happened? When did you start feeling like this? Have I said or done something that made you feel disgusting about it?", you prod, he shakes his head and twists the silver ring on his thumb, "there is no starting point, not necessarily. I've always just felt like that. I can't help it. Both the fact that I get so messy and the fact that I feel repulsed by it like 2 seconds later".

Something quite unsettling sinks in your stomach: you feel sorry for him. A quiet realisation that he probably feels bad each and every time you two are intimate. That those few times you caught a glimpse of a wince in his face, in his ragged breath, it wasn't just excersion and exhilaration, but actual disgust.

"Why didn't you ever say anything? I could've stopped earlier or moved away...", you try, your voice uncertain, he tuts and pushes his tongue against the inside of his lip annoyedly, "because we never talk, y/n. Ever. Much less when we're having sex. I come to your place or you come to mine. We fuck, we put our clothes back on, we leave. We're out of each other's life until the next time. And the cycle starts again".

A ton of bricks falling onto your head would have probably stunned you less than the bluntness of his tone right now. It's not like you weren't aware of your nearly non existent communication but you just never considered how it could have affected the purely physical nature of your relationship up until now.

You fall silent for a lack of a better word, avoiding his troubled gaze even though he's staring you down as if he's trying to mentally shake you as much as possible. Little does he know he's actually succeeding.

When after a few more minutes you're still not speaking, he visibly tenses up and throws his hands up in te air, pushing himself off the bed quickly, "right, I'm going to leave. Forget I've ever said anything, I'll see you when I see you".

He scrambles for the door but you catch up to him, stopping him before he gets to grab the handle, "wait wait wait, what's going on? What is this all about? Are you seriously getting angry right now? ", you inquire, yourself getting agitated by the second, "I'm not, I'm just - I'm just frustrated. You don't see anything wrong in whatever the fuck we're doing, you think it's normal that we barely say hello and then proceed straight to bed, you don't seem to care about anything beside getting your fix, y/n." -

-"You don't care that there's another person providing that for you, except that you know I'm a person too maybe I've had a bad day or maybe I'm just tired cause I couldn't sleep but how would you know mmh? How would you know I might have fucking issues too?".

Felix is never one to raise his voice, and the thing is, he didn't even properly did that now. But the anger that flashes in his face and the heat that permeates every word he spits out hit you more than you could have ever imagined. What's more is that you're not even entirely sure you're mad yourself, you're just completely flabbergasted at the way he is acting out, he looked so vulnerable and quiet not even 10 minutes ago and now he's fretting and sounding desperate. You feel utterly confused.

"We never talked even before we started hooking up! I thought... I thought you didn't care for any of that? I thought we were on the same wavelength about this being strictly physical, I thought we agreed on this being a no strings attached thing", you try to reason, though with every word you say you feel like your only digging your grave deeper, "I thought this was strictly physical too but fuck y/n, I still see you as a person. A broken one, perhaps, but a person nonetheless"-

-"I'd still care if you got hurt or if someone pissed you off at work and you just wanted to vent or if you had a good meal last night, like I'm not a human sex doll, there's an actual person with a personality and feelings attached to my dick you know?".

So that hurt. Like a punch in your gut. You feel the bile rising up in your chest as you scowl and try your best not to scream your head off and curse him out of your apartment. He knows he touched on a very sensitive topic.

"Oh please, stop fucking pretending you've not been getting your fix too, it's not like you've been acting like my best friend either. It takes two to tango. We are not friends, we have never been. And I thought we were okay with that, I thought we had been doing okay so far", you shout, "yeah we've been doing so great babe haven't we? Drowning the pain in meaningless sex when we both know damn well we're just trying to escape the voices in our head. Hyunjin's voice in our heads".

A hard blow that knocks you right out. Your mouth agape, you're struggling to breathe, to keep yourself together. Tears start stinging behind your eyelids but you are not going to cry. Not in front of him, not like this. As much as you try to hold back the hurt rippling through your chest, it must be showing on your face cause Felix suddenly drops his whole demeanor and frowns regretfully.

"Fuck, I'm sorry! I - that was out of line", he tries, sincere eyes growing big and shiny as they run around your face, trying to assess just how much he's hurt you. You blink once, shut your eyelids against the tears that you're adamant you're not going to spill.

You clench your jaw, hardening your stance as you try to keep yourself composed while your mind races possibly just as fast as your heart: "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you're less than a decent human being, Felix. I'm sorry I can't be your friend. You are right, I am broken, but I've never asked you to fix me. If this isn't working for you anymore, we can stop seeing each other, that is fine, I'm not going to break any further".

The blood in your veins frozen over, you open the door to your apartment for him, silently inviting him out. He stares at the empty corridor outside your door and then focuses his eyes right back on you, "y/n if you want me to, I'll leave. I will get out of your hair the second you want me to. But I know you don't want me to, I don't want you to. I don't think you need fixing, I think you need... A friend"-

-"I wish... I want to be that friend for you, not because I feel pity for you but because I am broken too, and you're the only one in my life that knows what it feels like, that knows just how much Hyunjin has left behind. You... You're the only thing that makes me not want to think about the shit that's in my head".

The same watery void you see in your eyes every time you look at yourself in the mirror is reflected in his eyes looking very intensely at you, and it's unsettling, how you've never noticed before, how sad he looks, how that same profound sadness resides in you as well. To see it so clearly displayed on another person's face shakes you more than you're willing to admit to yourself.

Felix sniffles and wipes away at his eyes and for a second you're debating whether to reach out, whether you're supposed to offer some kind of comfort, but you can't bring yourself to. Your bones feel too cold and exposed, so you stay put, staring at him wordlessly, struggling to breath.

He takes that as his cue to leave and so he does, stepping over the threshold of your apartment, "what we have is fucked up. It's dysfunctional, a coping mechanism that's going to eventually destroy us both, but I'm not going to take that away from you, from us, if that's what you need. I'm on call whenever", he mumbles defeatedly, at last.

Chapter 5

[laurageto]

Levi Ackerman

I stare at Levi, my hand placed on his chest. Tears stream down his cheek which he wipes away brashly with his shirt sleeve. I've never seen him like this before, he's never one to show his emotions about anything.

"Levi.. I honestly had no idea about your mother. I'm so sorry." My voice comes out as a silent croak. A lump forms in my throat. "And something I've never said to you before, I'm truly sorry for lying to you about who I was.. back when we were kids" the lump still sticking as I swallow hard. I feel all the courage I have leaking out of me, I'd never truly acknowledged how my lies had affected him. I always thought I'd lied for the greater good, for both of us. But that just wasn't true, I lied to protect me. I was so selfish.

His gaze draws up to meet mine, the anger has calmed but the sadness remains. "How do I know I can trust you y/n?" I can see his eyes desperately searching mine, he wants to believe me.

"I'll have to prove it to you. And I will, I promise. If you'll give me the chance to..." My voice trails off and I break our eye contact. What if he doesn't forgive me? What if I've wrecked everything?

I turn away and step lightly towards my bed when suddenly his fingers clasp my wrist and he spins me into an embrace. My nose lands snuggly into his pecks, the familar smell of fresh cotton and his unforgettable musk envelops my senses. My hand creeps up from my side as it slowly slides up his chest and clasps at the material it finds. Small pools of liquid fill my eyes as I feel him pull me closer in an embrace.

7 years. 7 years it's been since he last held me like this.

He leans his head down, nuzzling into my soft strands. His rib cage expands, taking my scent in. His fingers clasp tighter round my waist, as if the smell of me was all he needed to realise how much we meant to one another. He scoops my chin between his fingers and raises my head to face him, those hazel orbs entrancing me. Like I'm staring into my own soul.

"y/n... I'm about to show you just how much I've missed you"

And just like that, he slams me up against the nearest stone wall. He pins both of my wrists above my head with a single hand, his face dangerously close to mine. I can feel his hot breath against my soft pink lips. My cheeks flush a rosy hue as I glance down. Why do I feel nervous?

With his one free hand he runs a finger up my neck and brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He traces my chin and raises my head up again so that our eyes meet. "Don't look away from me. I want you to keep your eyes focused on mine. You are mine. You've always been mine".

Instantly he latches his lips onto my open neck, nibbling and sucking at my pale flesh causing me to whimper. "Levi.. you'll leave a mark"

"Exactly. That fucking Lieutenant will know to keep away from what isn't his" he growls into my lobe whilst planting small pecks onto my helix. He gently releases his grasp of my pinned wrists and rubs his forefingers along the collar of my lose white tee. Rrrrpppp!

Within seconds he's ripped the flimsy cotton off of my milky complexion. I haven't got a bra or underwear on due to the incident with one of the Lieutenants earlier so every inch of my skin is exposed. My small buds perk up as the cold air greets them.

Levi stares at my body hungrily, he bites his lip before sliding his tongue along his lips to moisten them. "7 years... I can't believe I've kept away from you for 7 years. Every. Single. Day. I've wanted to fuck the life out of you". He groans, his fingertips meet my nipples and put pressure on them slightly, rubbing them in a circular motion.

I can't even speak, my legs feel like jelly. I know my expression is speaking a thousand words. Absolute extacy.

"Not fair that I'm the only one being scrutinized here" I finally manage to squeak as I slowly undo his shirt buttons. His gorgeous chest starts to appear as the material falls away from his shoulders and drops to the ground. Fuck, he is utter perfection.

I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and my legs around his waist as he hoists me up onto him. His tongue finally finds my perky nipples, gently caressing one before lovingly moving onto the other, not forgetting any inch of me. His fingers scrabble mindlessly to find his zipper, the sense of urgency increasing every second. He finally pulls his pants down exposing his stiff erection. "Fuck, you make me so hard y/n"

I slowly push individual fingers into my mouth, wetting each one. I gaze doe eyed at him, driving him more and more wild. I slip my now wet fingers down through my legs and they find his cock. As my hand clasps it, I feel it pulsate. I begin to stroke it slowly, teasing my fingers around the edge. "I remember just how you like it'. He groans, closing his eyes. His palms clutch to my bum cheeks, leaving marks where they dig.

After a few minutes of teasing he carries me over to my bed and throws me onto it. I giggle as he eagerly spreads my legs apart, licking his lips as he kneels on the cold wooden floor. I can soon feel his warm breath on my clit. "Here she is, I've missed her..." He whispers as I melt into his chocolate brown iris'. He wraps both of his arms around my thighs and pulls me closer to his face. His lips finally meeting my pussy.

"I own this pussy. I own you. After tonight, you'll never look at another man again".

My entire being has been craving this moment for what feels like eternity.

I feel my muscles relaxing into the soft cotton sheets as his lips tenderly press against my clit. His tongue desperately searching for that sweet spot that he knows oh so well. A hushed whimper escapes my already parted lips as his mouth finds its mark. I feel his fingers grip my thighs tighter in acknowledgment. Bolts of electricity ignite throughout my body, rippling through every joint and muscle. Waves of pure pleasure pulsate throughout me. "Enjoy this baby" he utters before slowly dipping back in to enjoy your taste even more.

My fingertips tighten round the surrounding sheets as I can feel my body tensing close to orgasm. "S-stopp!" I moan as I push his head away, "I'm so close and I want this moment to last. It's my turn to pleasure you". He leans back onto his heels with a cheeky grin spread across his gorgeous face. He gracefully stands up, his abdominal muscles flexing before my very eyes. I can't help but lean forward and run my palms over them, feeling every indentation. Fuck how has he got even hotter? I'm literally salivating here Levi!

As my fingers wander his muscles, I notice the scars that mottle his ivory skin. My lips find them and land small pecks on every single one. I feel goosebumps emerge on his chest at the touch of me. As my mouth works it's magic I tentatively drag down the remainder of his pants exposing him completely. "Now we're on even grounds" I remark longingly staring at his member which is eagerly greeting me.

I look up at him, memorized but his hypnotic milk chocolate eyes. I'd never really noticed how beautiful they were, small flecks of amber laced through them. He reaches towards me, brushing strands of ivory away from my complezion to get a better view of me.

Taking both of my hands I wrap them round his shaft, slowly working up and down whilst keeping my aqua orbs fixated on his. I stick out my tongue and gently caress the tip of his erection, Levi bites down on his lips as a slight hiss escapes from them but he doesn't lose eye contact with me. I teasingly edge my mouth deeper and deeper down his shaft, his hands erratically finding my hair and grasping at it as he puts a small amount of pressure for me to go deeper. I happily accept.

The power I feel having all of him inside my mouth. "Fuck y/n" the words radiate from him. His left hand untangles from my long locks as it slides down my jaw and gently clasps around my neck. I know he can feel his own dick pumping inside of my throat which makes him even harder. "Shit!" He suddenly pulls out, his stiff cock right by my mouth as a string of saliva drips from the end. I take a gasp for breath while I can before he sticks it back in and continues to thrust. I cup his under carriage gently, my future children are in there. These babies need to be protected!

After a few rounds of edging him to an almost orgasm he drags me up off of my kneeling position on the bed and dominantly flips me over so that my rear is facing him. He licks his fingers before caressing my moist pussy. Using my own juices he wets the end of his cock and forcefully enters me. I yell out a squeal of pleasure which eggs him on more. It doesn't take long for his pace to quicken, slamming his entire body into mine.

I rock my hips back into him, matching his eager pace. Every pump drives me wild and I know it's doing the same to him. "I've missed this pussy, I've missed everything about you y/n" he groans, making no effort to hush his tones. It's almost as if he wants everyone to hear. He wants people to know that I'm his.

"Fuck, I forgot how big you are Levi" I mewl, I'm at his complete mercy. "I love it when you say my name. Say it again" he commands. "Levi. Fuck me harder" I express, my words emit a begging tone. I can almost hear his expression as a captivating grin spreads over him. His palms grab my hips greedily, hoisting up his foot onto the bed to enable him to get deeper.

He outstretches his forearm, clutching a collection of my tresses and curling them round his fingers. He tugs on them slightly which in turn pulls my head towards him. I'm well and truly in his control.

After a few minutes of us rampantly going at it he pulls himself out of me and slaps the supple pink skin of my bum. The mark of his hand quickly reddens the area that it had hit. Grabbing my waist he hungrily tosses me onto my back leaning into me so that my legs almost bend behind my head. "Lucky I'm flexible" I giggle before licking my lips siductively. He gives me a fervent look as he takes his shaft and plunges it back into me, gliding in and out of my now soaking vagina with ease.

"Keep g-going. I'm going to cum" the pitch in my voice heightens. "Look at me. I need you to look at me when I cum" he orders at me. The husky intense voice is playing no games. My orbs quickly meet his. "Don't cum in me" I whisper. As much as I want children with him one day, now probably wasn't the best time.

"I'll cum in you if I want to. If you get pregnant, well... nothing would make me happier if I'm honest" he puffs away, exhaustion now setting in. For some reason those words trigger my orgasm. "Fuuucckkk! Levi!" My toes curl as euphoria takes over. "Uhh.. ghh oh my god" he cries out. I can feel his dick pulsating inside me, the warm liquid filling every crevice. He leaves it inside of me whilst we both soak up the emotions we're feeling.

"I'm glad your mine again. I won't let anyone touch you ever again". He lovingly strokes my cheek wiping away the beads of sweat that had accumulated during our love making before collapsing beside me out of complete fatigue.

I turn to him, his eyes now closed.

My god, he's the most gorgeous human I've ever laid eyes on.

[ihopesocomic]

Hi! New reader here! I just got to the part where Hope tries to open her injured eye. It was portrayed as rly cloudy, but I’m not sure how it got that cloudy so fast? It had happened Very recently, and while Vicious’s claws definitely damaged the cornea, idk if that was enough time for scar tissue to have accumulated so thick. It was more likely that it would have been swollen or misshapen, but not opaque/milky yet. As well, though the scar/injury definitely would make her ‘legally blind’ in that eye, it’s highly unlikely even w that damage that she would lose 100% of her vision. Corneal Opacity obstructs light/vision, but it’s quite likely that she would still be able to see brash lights and shadows, maybe some shapes (likely clearer toward the edges of vision, but perpetually out of focus there)

I point this out as someone who is blind in one eye myself from an injury as a child, and that generally we don’t really like the portrayal of “cloudy eyes=blind” in media. It’s usually used as visual shorthand, but bc ppl see it used that way, they think that’s what all blind ppl look like. I’ve gotten ppl who’ve tried and ‘caught’ some of my friends as ‘not blind’ bc their eyes weren’t white/cloudy, which is generally, not the case unless there is serious injury or disease in the eye. As for the 100% vision, we also get ppl who will wave or clap in our faces to try and ‘catch’ us (bc for some reason ppl just think ppl fake being blind for ‘benefits’—what benefits??) and we will always flinch bc 1) that’s the normal reaction, it’s sound and air close to your face, your body will instinctively flinch away from it. And 2) bc many of us still have some amount of useable vision, and getting that close is something even someone w very low percentage of useable vision could detect.

Not gonna ask you to redraw it of course, that’s entirely up to you, and it’s an ongoing, high-intensive webcomic and the page in question is quite a bit back there, but if we see it again plus the POV of Hope’s vision, if you drew a rough lining of that half of the picture, then filled it in with intense white/gray grittiness, more concentrated in the middle and a bit less on the extreme sliver of the outer eye (in Hope’s case, I doubt there would be too much of the eye that wasn’t covered by the scar tissue, Lion claws are huge and thick and at this point she’s had plenty of time to form a significant scar) and the vague impression of light/shadow, that’s a more accurate portrayal of blindness. The eye itself is almost guaranteed to be misshapen, that is, the iris and pupil, not the orb itself (it would have had to puncture through the cornea, and if that was the case she’d not really have an eye) something like a droopy part near the direction of the scar, and a bit more of an oval-ish shape (pics for reference can help if you can do that, otherwise not making it too extreme but enough that it’s visibly a scar and injury in the eye. These are all just suggestions! If you decide you’d like to do a more stylized version of this, just making the iris a bit raised and a little wider at the ends of the scar, and for POV just airbrush w a gritty texture and put some vague shading.

I really love this comic, and it’s portrayal of disability (Hope is just. I’ll cry) but that was just something that nicked me a bit. It’s hard to do everything right, and really hard for a personal project! You’ve done amazing, and honestly this is nitpicky of me I think, I just thought with the positive rep of limb loss I thought I’d give a little advice ig on blind rep, from a partially blind person myself. (thank you SO. MUCH. For not making her ‘mourn’ the limb she doesn’t have. She just doesn’t have it, it’s who she is. She’s not lesser or in parts bc of it, she deals w it, and though it’s still a disability and affects her as such, it’s not something she needs to cry over. She’s always been this way, and she’ll make it through.)

So, first of all: thank you so much for giving an informative and detailed input on this aspect of Hope's character. We truly appreciate it.

We've always intended to show Hope's eye injury gradually changing condition from her POV and her being able to open the eye slightly eventually, so we're not through with representing blindness or partial blindness through her.

As for your comments regarding what we've already shown, Cat did refer to references on that particular front as she did endeavour to get things accurate. While she is willing to admit that she may have got things wrong, the issue of people stereotyping blind individuals based on one form of how the condition presents itself doesn't mean that one form is not accurate or valid, if you feel me? The true issue here is people's ableism towards blind or partially blind individuals and assuming that a disability must present itself in a certain way to "count" (i.e. in a way they're familiar/comfortable with when stfu it's not about you?) when disabilities in general do not work like that.

But I also completely get that there is a need to break down the assumption that all eye conditions work like this. I know what it feels like to be held to a certain standard by my disabilities and it sucks. If there's one thing worse than just flat-out intolerant ableism towards disabled individuals, it's ableism under the guise of 'i understand your condition better than you do bc i saw it on TV once' ugh But yeah, we've put a pin in the helpful description you've provided and will take this on board moving forward because - like you've pointed out - this is how eye injuries actually work. We especially needed this input since we planned on having Hope being able to have the eye open eventually too. Cat certainly wants to go in and fix that panel with her eye opening in the relevant panel and make it not-cloudy, and what you said about the greyscale and filter idea for the panel afterwards where it's her POV will also be implemented. Thank you again for this advice and for explaining it so well, we always appreciate input like this. <33 And thank you again (again) for the kind comments on Hope's character. It's exactly why we opted to not have her injure the limb like Nothing did and have her be born with the condition instead. Not that we're opposed to that kind of representation, as we intend to cover it somewhat with Bronze and the loss of his limb and how he and the other lions of the Thundering Mountains adapted to it. But yeah, we felt like doing things differently a tad with our main protagonist. c: - RJ

[fairy-writes]

Hey there :) I hope you’re having a fantastic day :) please could I request action prompt 13 for gojo satoru 💙💙

ANGER AND ANGUISH

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing(s): Gojo Satoru x Gender Neutral!Reader

Prompt: Sharing a kiss after a massive battle (Action Prompt #13)

Notes: Idk if this cursed spirit idea even makes any sense, but we’re rolling with it anyway.

Also, TW for minor descriptions of gore

This is for my 1K followers event! It’s going on between June 8th and June 22nd!

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The acrid scent of blood and smoke is thick on your tongue, making you gag and dry heave, hunching over as you spit onto the ground. 

Was it over? 

Please let it be over. 

There’s a ringing in your ears and a hand at your back. 

Someone’s saying something. Shouting something. But you can’t hear them. 

You turn, dazed and confused. Who is talking?

Itadori Yuuji. 

He’s screaming at you, but you can’t understand what he’s trying to say. You can see the flash of a fire alarm going off in the background. You squint, and he seems to realize what’s happening. So instead of saying anything more, he hauls you to your feet, slings your arm over his shoulder, and takes a step forward. You stumble after him. 

Only to freeze when he seemingly hears something. You watch as the blood drains from his face, and you can smell it. 

The scent of something rotting. Something long dead but somehow alive at the same time. 

You know that smell.

So you turn and see the cursed spirit perched on the teacher’s desk, chattering its teeth as it watches the two of you hobble away. It cocks its head to the side like some curious dog. It was almost human-like. If humans stood seven feet tall, hunched on all fours like some deformed hunchback, that is.

That’s right…

You remember now. Why you were even here. 

It was supposed to be easy. That was the whole reason Yuuji had come along—for extra training. It was supposedly a simple grade-two cursed spirit infestation at an elementary school. Kids had gone missing, only for their contorted and mangled bodies to be found days after their disappearance, bellies ripped open to show feasted upon innards. 

You accepted the job almost immediately. 

Except the moment you encountered the beast, you knew there was no way it was a grade-two spirit. It was grade one, at the very least, maybe even a special grade. 

Where was Satoru?

You had texted him just before the fight started, just a simple “I’m worried ‘toru.” He hadn’t responded. But you knew he had seen it.

So where was he? 

That led you to where you are now, being dragged along by Yuuji in an attempt to get away before the cursed spirit could come to eviscerate you both like it had done to victims in the past. 

All the while, you couldn’t look away. Couldn’t look away from the emaciated body. Couldn’t look away from the too many too-sharp teeth. And most of all… couldn’t look away from the blank, milky-white eyes. They were solid orbs of fallen snow, not another color found in the murky depths. 

“Don’t look at it!” Your hearing was coming back. It was still muffled, like someone was talking through cotton, but you could hear it again. 

The tap tap tapping of the claws.

The unnatural clicking.

The chattering of those teeth. 

No mouth should ever be that wide; no smile should ever have that many teeth.

You manage to tear your eyes away from the being, but in the process, you trip over a half-smashed desk and go crashing to the ground. Yuuji tries to keep you both on your feet and tries to keep going. But your cursed energy is depleted, and Yuuji—as superhuman as he was—can only keep going for so long. 

The corner of a desk cracks into the side of your skull, and your vision goes white. There’s something wet and sticky dripping down your face, and when you go to wipe it off, your fingers come away red. 

Yuuji is struggling to his knees, hands trembling and breath coming out in little panicky gasps. 

He’s scared.

And there’s nothing you can do about it.

Except…

Maybe…

You turn on your knees and use the edge of an unfallen desk to pull yourself upright, finding your weapon amongst the rubble and holding it at the ready.

Maybe if the spirit kills you here… maybe then Yuuji could get away…

So there you stand, knees shaking and teeth gritting together as the cursed spirit gets closer and closer. 

“Suck it up, damn it!” You curse yourself. You’re supposed to be a powerful sorcerer. Someone that others can look up to. The one training the next generation. This should have been easy. 

When had it gone so wrong? 

You close your eyes and feel a certain kind of peace. 

You were going to die. 

But that was okay. At least Yuuji would be safe.

Until…

“Playtime’s over, you little goblin!” Comes a familiar voice. Your eyes shoot open, and you see him. 

Satoru.

His sapphire pools are ablaze with an emotion you can’t quite put a finger to. He very near hovers in the air and has a hand extended. He meets your eyes with a sort of boyish charm, and then,

“Did you miss me?” He quips with a grin, and you let out a disbelieving laugh.

You weren’t going to die here. 

The next time you open your eyes, you’re in the hospital.

The stink of the antiseptic and medicine makes you hunch up in bed and retch. It reminded you all too much of the smoke and blood and the smell of rotting flesh. 

You’re dry-heaving into a garbage bin next to your hospital bed when the door slides open and shut. Glancing up, your eyes meet azure eyes still lit with the emotion from before. Abruptly… you realize it’s anger. Mixed with a myriad of other emotions, but that’s the first one you put a name to. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize what Satoru is feeling. 

He’s angry and worried and oh so sad. 

Angry at you. 

Worried about you.

“You were going to die.” His voice is thin and small and so uncharacteristic for someone like him. 

“But I didn’t.” You whisper and watch as he clenches his fists so hard his knuckles turn white.

“You had given up.” His tone is sharp and biting, a stark contrast to the scared man who had been standing before you mere moments before. 

You go to swing your legs over the side of your hospital bed, and despite Satoru’s anger, he’s at your side in an instant. His hands are large and calloused at your wrist and back as he guides you into a more comfortable sitting position. 

But he doesn’t take a seat at your side. Not like he used to when you were teenagers, and you’d get injured doing something reckless. 

He’d sit at your side, showing you some dumb video or photo on his phone while Suguru stood back, watching in amusement. 

Oh, how you missed those simpler times. 

You look into the eyes of the man you loved so much and find him watching you with those deep blue eyes you adored.

“You were going to die.” He reiterates, standing before you with his hands in his pockets. You had known him long enough to know it was an attempt to hide his worry. He had done it since before you had even met.

“I can’t lose you. Not like I—” Satoru doesn’t have to finish the sentence for you to understand what he was going to say. 

“Not like I lost Suguru.”

You reach out with a trembling hand and fist it in the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer so you can lean your forehead against his stomach. You feel a hesitant hand in your hair, gently ruffling the tresses as you bite your lip. 

“I’m sorry.” You croak, and he finally moves. He takes a seat at your side, pulling you close to his side. You rest your head against him and have to ask.

“How’s Yuuji?” You whisper, and he huffs out a laugh,

“He’s fine. A little shaken, maybe. But worry about yourself once in a while, would ya?” He says, and his voice cracks.

And that sound alone breaks your heart.

Scooting yourself onto your knees, you turn to face Satoru and cup his face with soft hands. He lets you readily, looking at you with eyes so filled with anguish that you can barely stand it. So you close your eyes and press your lips to his.

His kiss tastes like unfallen tears. 

[slasherhoe87]

Hi, LOVE ❤ , I have a very " perverted " request and maybe you will hate me for that so, s/o has big boobs which turns out to be LACTATED, s/o also really likes suckling slashers through her big boobs and maybe more 😏. Sometimes milk will suddenly come out of her breasts, and the way to stop it is by sucking the milk until it runs out . S/o also really likes to breastfeed them while having sex.

You don't have to do this request if you don't feel comfortable, I know I'm a disgusting person and you deserve to judge me.

Btw, don't forget to take care of your health and always drink lots of water. Your blog is so perfect 💖💖💖

Don't feel disgusted or worthy of judgement - we all have our kinks and I assure you, most of us have dreamt up way worse shit - I know I have lol

WARNINGS: 🚨MINORS DNI🚨 / 🚨NSFW🚨 / BREEDING KINK / LACTATION KINK / MOMMY KINK / HUCOW KINK

Slashers x Fem Reader

Feat. Thomas Hewitt, Billy Loomis & Brahms Heelshire

🍼SLASHERS WITH A LACTATING S/O🥛

THOMAS HEWITT

Feels guilty every time when he looks at your swollen belly and gets hard

He just can't help himself

Just knowing that he put that baby in your belly drives him wild with lust

But when he notices your heavy, swollen breasts start leaking through your thin sundress, he just about dies internally

You notice his intense staring but act like you can't tell that he's doing it

Inside you're smirking

When the two of you sit together or lie down next to one another, he rests his head on your bountiful chest - his fingers flexing, just itching to squeeze

Has dirty Hucow fantasies about you being caged in the barn, restrained and milked by him - either using his hands, mouth or milking machine

Little did he know that you too had those fantasies

Not soon after when both of you could no longer contain yourselves, you find yourself in the very situation you both have fantasized about

🚨 hucow kink below🚨

You're naked and bent behind the feeding cage used for the three cows the Hewitt's keep. Your head is lodged through the bars where the cows' heads normally stick through and your wrists are tied to rope firmly knotted around two wooden columns on either side of the cage

Thomas is pounding away behind you into your sopping swollen pussy

His hands are squeezing your large, heavy breasts while two breast pumps normally used for livestock are milking your deliciously aching, puffy nipples for all they're worth

You're pretty glad the rest of the Hewitt's are out on the town otherwise they'd be hearing your loud and obscene moaning and screaming

Thomas's lust is overflowing

Never would he have imagined to ever be indulging in one of his oldest and biggest fantasies

The tears are streaming down your flushed cheeks

Your engorged nipples are overstimulated - the pumps ruthless

The pleasure-pain causes your swollen clit to pulsate and your slippery hole clench tightly around Tommy's girthy cock

Thomas grunts as he feels your pussy clench around him, the hold on your breasts tightening - helping the milk escape your body even more

Eventually you feel the white-hot heat shoot down to your core and your wail out your mammoth of an orgasm - you feel the liquid gush around Tommy's cock and splat onto the hay strewn ground

Tommy's movements become erratic, his pounding even more jarring before he lets out a low throaty moan and spills his thick white ropes of cum inside your quivering used cunt

He pulls out of you with an obscene squelch and even more fluid drops to the ground. He admires the sight of your loosened, leaking, swollen pussy before he steps around you and turns the milking machine off

You smile lazily up at him - face flushed, weary and satisfied

He looks down at you with adoration in those sparkling grey orbs of his

He gently removes the pumps from your aching breasts with a pop - your hefty breasts jiggling from the action

You giggle before gasping as small streams of milky white liquid shoot from your raw, enlarged nipples

Thomas licks his lips and gets on his knees in front of you before cupping your breasts and gently taking a sensitive nipple into his warm, eager mouth

He moans as feels the warm white liquid squirt onto his tongue and down his throat

The taste is intoxicating and he'll be sad when you will eventually stop lactating

But until then, he plans on milking you for all you're worth

BILLY LOOMIS

You're lying on your bed - exhausted after a long, hot day.

Its not easy being a pregnant college student.

Just as your eyes flutter closed you hear a rustling of your curtains by your bedroom's open window.

One eye opens and you spy your boyfriend Billy, who you've been dating since you were both 16, hop into your bedroom.

He smiles warmly at you before crawling onto the double bed and cuddling up next you.

He places his scarred hand atop your swollen belly and kisses into your neck and onto your cheek. You both discuss your day and chat a bit about the latest horror films that have come out before his hands start roaming your body and his groin slowly starts rutting against your thigh.

You smirk and seek out his lips for a slow, sensual kiss. Billy moans into the kiss while his hand massages and squeezes your large, milk-heavy breasts.

Since you started lactating, he couldn't get enough of your breasts nor your leaky puffy nipples.

Whether you two were in the movie theatres, his car, on campus or almost anywhere really, his hand would seek your breasts out and he'd beg to suckle. It almost seemed a need for him, somewhat even deeper than a kink.

Billy starts to eagerly unbutton your nightgown and stops when he reaches your hips. You know what he wants and you're happy to oblige.

"Wanna fuck your tits, baby" he whisper groans into your ear. The sound of his wanton voice sends a thrill to your core and you shiver with a nod.

He quickly unbuckles his belt and unzips his black jeans before releasing himself from his silky burgundy boxers.

Billy is rock hard. Pre-cum oozes from the tip of his blushing cock and drips down onto the bed, leaving a string of the clear goo from bed sheets to tip.

He moves to sit on his knees before gently grabbing your heavy orbs and gives them a firm squeeze - watching in awe and growing desire as small streams of milky liquid shoot out from your puffy nipples.

You sigh and groan as Billy leans down and takes one of your engorged nipples into his mouth - his teeth gently scraping against the fleshy peaks. He moans as the taste of your milk washes over his tongue - the vibrations from his throat sending sparks of thrilling electricity to your nipples and clit.

After having his fill (for now) he removes his lips from your swollen nipple and leans forward to give you a deep, passionate kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue and your cunt moistens even more.

"You ready baby?" Billy asks as he pulls away from the kiss and takes his cock into his hand.

You nod, eager to have him thrust between your sizeable breasts before eventually taking his hot load into your waiting mouth.

Billy positions himself over your torso, mindful of your belly. He takes hold of your large fleshy mounds while sliding his weeping cock between them as he pushes them firmly together, milk streaming out of your tits like a fountain.

Billy moans at the sight of you beneath him and at the feeling of your massive tits milking his throbbing cock for all its worth.

He sets a steady pace all the while praising you and your milkers.

"Do my tits squeezing the cum out of your cock feel good, babe?" you ask wantonly through your lashes at Billy.

Billy hisses at a particularly sensitive thrust before slowly nodding at you. Your boyfriend's head looks up at the ceiling, his eyes half lidded, mouth slightly agape - he is totally lost in the moment, in the euphoria.

You can see the haze of pleasure and desire swirling within his chocolate orbs.

Eventually his moans become louder, whinier even and his grip on your breasts clutch even harder. You whimper at the force of his fingers but it only gets you wetter. His thrusts become faster, more uneven before he eventually makes eye contact with you. His lust possessed face sending a white-hot pulse to your core.

"Babe... I'm gonn-" Billy groans loudly before he can finish his sentence as hot strings of thick cum shoot into your open mouth, some tendrils miss and hit your chin and throat.

You swallow his warm seed as his thrusts slow down before coming to a steady halt. His breathing is laboured and adoration shines through his gaze at you.

Taking his index finger he gently scoops up the cum that missed your mouth and places it on your tongue which you had stuck out for him. You swallow and open your mouth again showing him that you have taken all of him.

Billy hums in approval and leans in for a kiss. He loved kissing you after he cummed into your mouth - the taste of himself on your wet tongue drove him wild.

"That was perfect, baby. Thank you" Billy praises you as he gently massages your swollen breasts. "Now, how about I return the favour?" he asks as he runs his index finger up the seam of your slick cunt.

You lick your lips and nod in anticipation while Billy moves down between your legs.

This night was only going to get better.

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE

Brahms can be petulant and difficult to interact with at times

Like this past week when the scheduled daily maid had called in sick, leaving you to tidy up the huge mansion for the few days that she had taken off

You had asked him to help you with some dusting and wiping of surfaces with a cloth

He refused of course. Whining that he didn't want to

After having a stressful week yourself with not so good news from family and being more tired than usual thanks to your pregnancy you lost your temper and scolded Brahms

You practically tore him a new one

He sulked and sobbed behind the walls for the rest of the day

You felt guilty the moment the harsh and uncalled for words left your mouth

Yes he needed to be taken to task for his less than co-operative behaviour but you didn't need to do so in such a snappish and cruel manner

You decided to make it up to him

You made his favourite meal and dessert and left it in little Brahms's bedroom, knowing Brahms wouldn't want to eat dinner with you that night after your scolding

After dinner you took a warm shower and put on the lotion Brahms thought smelled the best - vanilla fudge

You wrapped yourself in nothing but your satin mauve bathrobe and stepped into your bedroom and sat at the edge of your bed

You hoped he would accept your apology and how you planned on making it up to him

"Brahmsy... I know I was pretty harsh earlier and most definitely shouldn't have said what I said or the tone I used"

You heard a slight shuffling behind your wall close to the massive old wardrobe in the bedroom

Good. He was listening and you weren't making a fool of yourself speaking to thin air

"I just want to apologize Brahmsy. I'm very sorry, could you please forgive me, sweet boy?"

As you spoke the last word you gently untied the string of your bathrobe and let it drop down your shoulders, revealing your naked form for the voyeur behind the walls and especially your heavy milk laden breasts

"Can I make it up to you Brahmsy?" you asked in a sweet voice as you ran your hands over your breasts

You heard the scuffing of boots behind the wall and then the clicking of a switch before the back of the grand old wardrobe's back panel opened and Brahms came out through your hung clothing

You smirked and sat back

Brahms slowly stepped towards you, chest heaving and eyes laser focused on your own chest

You scooted back on the bed and sat against the headboard then patted your lap

Brahms pulled his cardigan off and dropped in the armchair near by your nightstand and slowly crawled onto the bed and settled in your lap, his arm across the back of your shoulders and the other rested against his thigh

"Let me make it up to you sweet boy, can I do that?"

Brahms nodded so quickly he nearly got whiplash

You giggled and motioned for him to get more comfortable in your lap

With his mask off and on your nightstand your took one large breast into your hand and held it up

Brahms wasted no time in latching his lips around your puffy, leaky nipple and began suckling

You sighed in pleasure at the sensation before settling against the headboard more comfortable

As Brahms whimpered and moan and kneaded your other breast, you unzipped his trousers and pulled his throbbing, rock hard member free

You began to lazily pump him as you murmured praised and apologies in his mop of dark hair

Brahms's sounds of pleasure vibrated blissfully against your tender nipple and your squeezed your thighs together as the sensation shot right down to your pulsing clit

As you pumped him more firmly he suckled more deeply drawing a throaty moan from you

At this Brahms looked up at you, his eye swimming with satisfaction

You run your nails against his scalp and he sighs contentedly

"Does I taste good Brahmsy?"

Brahms nods and tweaks your other leaking nipple

Eventually he starts rutting into your hand and and you stroke him firmer and faster

His moans sending more and more vibrations through your nipple down to your heated core

Brahms's other hand leaves your nipple and instead finds your aching clit where he starts to rub firm circles against it

You groan at the pleasure your body is experiencing before both of you explode in a torrent white-hot ecstasy

Brahms removed his mouth from your nipple and gently lays his head on your chest before closing his eyes

"Brahmsy forgives you y/n"