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naffeclipse · 4 months ago

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Charm Brought It Back

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

I am so excited to present this Hocus Pocus inspired AU requested by the lovely @jackofallrabbits! The boys star as the witchy brothers who return once a fated reader lights the starry candle. They simply must show their gratitude! And what better day to post such a spooky and fun fic than on Friday the 13th?!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.

———

You turn the key and cut the engine of your car. With a flick, you turn off the headlights. The beginning of a sunset swoops down onto your ill-adjusted vision. The horizon is drenched in purples and oranges as shadows begin to crawl off of trees and their yellowed leaves. It will take a minute or two for your sight to adapt, but you have tilted and revolved the structure waiting just at the edge of the forest within your mind’s eyes for days now. It’s beyond the dirt road you’ve pulled onto the shoulder of.

Blinking slowly, you find the house’s dark silhouette through the boughs of clustered trees, and you sigh at the beauty of its preserved history.

The building is an artifact dating back roughly to the 1630s. A post-medieval English-style home, it contains two stories with an overhanging jetty and stunning clapboard siding that has survived a little under four centuries of existence. Your eyes catch on the windows and your heart sings at the sight. Diamond-paned casement. And there, decorative pendants of celestial bodies, including iron-casted suns, moons, and overlapping symbols of the two. The steeply pitched roof is common for the era and is more renowned in its descendant the saltbox form, but this style boosts its spooky aura.

The Puritan colonists were the ones responsible for importing the style to America as they landed here on the eastern coast.

It’s no stretch of the imagination to think of witches and execution trials while gazing over the beautiful home. You’re particularly intrigued by the history of the Salem witch trials, and as a historian, you couldn’t deny yourself the chance to enter the building and feed the gnawing need to stand within a piece of history.

Stepping out of your car, a gust of wind carrying the bitter edge of autumn cuts through your brown sweater. You shiver and shut the door as quietly as you can manage. This is hallowed ground. This will supply your ever inquisitive mind which is always looking to the past with a curiosity most insatiable.

You face the home. A footpath lightly serpentines between the trees. Hooligans with destructive tendencies and teenagers on dares will venture here for a spooky, fun time, but are usually caught by the police because the building sits on private property. You asked for permission from the owner of the hundreds of acres of forest land that includes the so-called “Witch House” if you might enter the premises. Given your credentials, you were certain the owner would trust you with exploring the home.

Much to your relief, the owner agreed.

You look up, arms clutching your knitted sleeves to fight the chill of an October breeze, in awe and reverence.

From your pocket, you slip out a wrought-iron key with the symbol of the moon overlapping the sun to form a black eclipse and marvel again at the intricacy of ancient beauty. Your fingertips grow chilled in the late hour. The sun shifts from orange to dark, bleeding red like blood from a heart spilled across the horizon. You walk towards the home.

Perhaps you should have arrived sooner. You were caught in another historical journal depicting the specific timeframe of when this home would have been occupied by its original inhabitants.

The rumors even now speak of curses and cursed artifacts within the building. Some of it is true—you have confirmed with your own scholarly sources. The original owners were a trio of brothers. They were accused of witchcraft and hanged for the crimes. That much is historically documented and verified.

What is fantasy is the tale of the brothers casting a curse with their dying breaths, declaring they would one day return if a virgin lit a starry candle on the anniversary of their executions.

Superstition. Most likely, the fear of the townspeople transcended to their children, and their children, down and down until it became a tale to spin on Halloween night around these parts.

The door is black as you approach it. A stray branch catches on your sweater, pulling on a thread, and you yank yourself free and silently mourn the roughen fabric before returning your attention to what really matters. You must be careful. This entire place is iconic and in need of preservation.

You slip the key into the lock hole and turn it with a thick, heavy click before the black wood door groans and slides inwards as if inviting you into its sphere. You take a breath. Your boots cross the threshold and you enter the home.

As is typical of some homes built in the early seventeenth century, an open hall greets you. In the far back is the fireplace with a cauldron still sitting upon an ashy bed. An original wood-carve table and chairs are set to one side as a staircase climbs up into the darkness of the second level. What little red light leaks inside is narrowed and cut up into diamonds by the panes. To one wall, shelves contain dusty and forgotten cooking utensils, once glimmery copper pots, and dinner dishes with designs considered much too gawky in the Puritan era but it causes you to softly gasp.

Your hand covers your mouth as you gaze around you, overwhelmed with the beautiful intricacies of metallic chandeliers holding half-burned tallow candles, and to the other wall lies a bookshelf covered in cobwebs as if the spiders refuse to let anyone examine such precious reads. Your fingers already itch to gently pry out one manuscript and gaze at the original script of whoever wrote it.

But the light—it’s far too dark now. The red has given way to blue and pale indigo. You squint. You reach into your other pocket for a lighter and flick it on. The tiny flame spouts a delicate light. Never would you dare admit this out loud to a living soul, but you so desperately wish to see the home in its authentic state, lit only by the technology the brothers had at the time: fire.

There are thick, yellowed candles lying on the table and clustered together on the narrow window sills. You have no hope of reaching the metal chandeliers but you do spy a candelabra positioned near the bookshelf on a small end table. You light it first with a careful touch of your lighter flame. The wick catches, even after all of these years. You smile softly, your heart warm within your chest as you bask in the essence of this beautiful place.

A few more candles should suffice.

You slip to the table to light the thick and tall candles. The flames bloom and warm the space in rich light, casting thick shadows from support beams. You almost set your lighter away when you spy one last candle set upon a golden candle holder. The fashioned metal twists and twines with elaborate engravings of shooting stars and slices of sun rays were placed in the corner of the room almost out of sight. The curiosity within you urges you to take a step, then another, and another. You stand in front of the almost forgotten candle.

The tallow is black as midnight. Strange. How did they color this? Embedded within the darkness are speckles of white, splattering the candle like an array of stars. Your eyes stray in search of constellations before shaking your head.

It’s true. There is a starry candle. Perhaps the brothers did dabble in the occult, playing with cards and fortune telling, and being punished with death for their interest in unholy magic.

The wick is dark and untouched as if it were never lit before. You bring the lighter flame closer. Superstition might worry another, but you concern yourself with logic and reason—explanations of humanity rather than inexplicable forces beyond comprehension.

Something stirs from a nearby corner shelf. Two long ears twitch. You catch a glimpse of a rabbit with creamy white fur just before it leaps off of the shelf and directly onto your arm. You yelp. Nearly dropping the lighter, you scramble back as the rabbit hits the floor, collects itself, and sits on its haunches.

Green eyes glare up at you. The rabbit, small and bunny-like, stays firmly between you and the starry candle.

You stand with your chest heaving and your lungs scraping out air, almost burning your thumb on the lighter flame before turning around yourself. Where did the woodland creature come from? Did it crawl its way inside like a rat and become trapped within the colonial home? The shot of adrenaline still flowing through your veins leaves your hands shaking.

The rabbit is still watching you with uncanny eyes. Prey animals so rarely stare back at bigger, larger threats. Perhaps it’s a pet. A runaway pet that somehow ended up here, of all places.

You slowly offer out your hand, keeping the lighter away in your other, as you take a step towards it.

It thumps a foot once, as if in warning, then bounds away. You watch it disappear into the house, still reeling from the fright it gave you.

If Michael was here, he would have laughed and told you to leave with him, now. He never wanted you to go here, especially alone, but you shake such ominous warnings away. He said curiosity killed the cat. You disagreed. This house is a part of history, not a curse. Witches are mere stories, conjured out of historical unrest and the longing to blame bad luck and tragedies upon an individual or three.

There’s always an explanation for fear superstition or mistrust. It’s far more sad than it is spooky.

You shake your head, smooth out the creases in your sweater, and face the starry candle again. The lighter flame flickers softly as you draw near it.

It is the anniversary of the brothers’ executions. You remember now as the shadows from other candles drape over you like a veil. You are also a virgin.

You laugh to yourself, covering your mouth as you do so. Look at you! You’re getting so worked up because a rabbit jumped at you.

It’s only hocus-pocus.

You tilt the lighter until it engulfs the wick. The flame catches, and you at last snap the lighter shut and return it to your pocket. Your eyes squint slightly at the candle. The wick snaps and bursts into sparks. The flame is not yellow or orange or even blue—it’s pure white like a comet streaking across the sky.

A crack of thunder splits the night sky with a bellow so monstrous, you feel like a child again, fearing a storm. You drop low to the ground, shielding your head as if the very world was going to fall upon you. A spark cracks in the fireplace, conjured out of ash underneath the cauldron before it burns hot and bright. The cauldron immediately begins roiling and bubbling with water. Laughter, great and terrible, and filled with the most jester-like joy sweeps over the room.

The pulse in your ears drowns at any sense but the need to hide. You scramble into the corner, tucking yourself behind the stand of the starry candle and hunker down. Holding your breath, you grab a fistful of your sweater while clutching your chest, and watch the door to the almost 400-year-old house fly open.

Three figures stride inside, looking about the place with wide eyes and disk-like heads framed in jutting adornments not unlike sun rays or shrouded in a heavy, dark blue hood.

“Brothers! We’re home!” The first one, tall and dark with deep red hues to his form, accent in sharp orange sun rays and an eclipse upon his face, turns to face his brother with bright, cat-like yellow eyes. “Isn’t it glorious?”

Another figure steps forward, yellow and off-white. Pale eyes beam. His head is crowned in bright sun rays as well. His spindly fingers twindle together in exuberant energy while he glances about the room eagerly. “Oh, yes, yes! More than anything! It’s as if we weren’t gone for more than a day—though the dust and cobwebs beg to differ.”

He draws a claw—you suck in a sharp breath—along the table’s edge and rubs his taloned fingertips together in disappointment.

“We must get to cleaning at once.”

“No,” the last figure fixes his hood with silvery digits. Golden jewels hang down the back of his unusual skull, the last and most prominent adornment a thick, golden star pendant. His eyes cast around the room, scarlet, and searching. “We must thank the little mouse who lit the candle.”

He flashes sharp teeth within his wide mouth, shaping it into a hungry grin. You gulp.

“Where are our manners?” The red and dark one twists back to the room with a flourish of his arms. His yellow gaze sweeps over the shelves and floors with a blade-like glint. “Of course, we must thank one so lovely.”

A dark cape drapes about his person. Underneath, a white flowing shirt hangs loosely to his lithe and slender figure, causing you to balk upon staring at such an exposed chest. The other two are no different, wearing similar shirts and dark trousers, but the hooded one bears a thick, longer cape while the sunny figure shares a cape similar to the first.

The yellow one lifts his wrists and frowns at the red ribbons tied around them. Golden bells jingle softly in an ominous chord.

“How terrible a reminder of our current impermanence,” he growls low in his throat, all cheerfulness lost and causing you to squeeze your ribs in fear.

“Patience, Sun,” the red one speaks, though he too casts a narrowed glance to the black ribbons and golden bells adorning his wrists. “We will affix ourselves back to this world in due time.”

“Eclipse, what a delicious creature I smell.” The hooded figure steps deeper into the home. Blue claws scratch at equally blue ribbons knotted to his hand bones but his attention is terrifyingly fixed on the candle stand just above your hiding spot.

You shrink further into the corner.

“Yes, Moon? And how lovely?” Eclipse, you assume, asks. His yellow eyes flash.

“As lovely as the stars,” Moon answers.

You watch claws curl around the wooden side of the candle stand, scratching deeply into the wood before a half-moon face emerges from behind, teeth set like a predator’s upon the sight of a wounded animal. Your heart flutters like a bird with a broken wing.

“Hello, little mouse. Won’t you come and play with us?”

You scream as he leaps behind the candle stand, takes you by the arms, and pulls you to your feet. You struggle to free yourself, crying out as he grabs hold of your wrists and fixes you firmly in place.

“My, how sweet,” he purrs in a dangerously low voice that rolls in the back of his throat. “You are the darling virgin who lit the candle, no?”

“Let me go!” You thrash but Moon grins in delight, as if you’re simply too precious.

“You deserve proper thanks,” He lowers one hand, forcing you to submit with slightly bent knees. “Here is my gratitude, little mouse.”

You freeze as he brings your hand towards his mouth, and a hundred, horrifying visions of him biting your fingers off or sinking his teeth in your palm send your blood into a frozen sludge of fear.

The witch, however, presses a kiss to the center of your palm. The softness catches the gears in your mind and jerks them to a halt.

“Thank you for allowing us to return once more,” he rasps. His scarlet eyes find yours between the space of your thumb and forefinger, and a strange stirring takes hold of your middle.

“This isn’t real,” you breathe. Dizziness begins to take hold.

This must be a dream, a thought gone wild, or inhaled bacteria triggering hallucinations.

Moon’s grin widens. He lowers your hand, loosening his hold for one precious moment. You rip your hands free of his grasp. A low growl escapes him but you’ve already slipped away, your eyes upon the door and spilling with the need to rush out into the night, away from the impossibilities standing before you—

Arms snatch your waist and lift your feet from the ground. You gasp.

Held in the air, you squirm before a hot breath dusts the shoulder of your sweater. You fall still, your throat bobbing as a mouth presses into the corner of your neck and lays a kiss on the sensitive spot. Gooseflesh prickles up and down your body.

“I assure you, I’m very real, little mouse,” Moon purrs. His hands squeeze your hips once. “And as nice as this… attire is, I would dress you in blues and silvers. You would look proper and powerful, like my brothers and I.”

A squeak escapes you. You shrink against him, caught in his embrace.

“Brothers?” The word rattles out of your throat.

“This is our home,” Moon whispers. “And you are our most honored guest.”

You manage to pry off his hands from your waist. With a sinister chuckle, the blue and silver hands release you. Without looking back, you run, ignoring the twinge in your stomach that whispers it was too easy to get away.

You hardly get a few steps before the sunny one—Sun—steps into your path. He catches you in his arms and spins you in a waltz at breakneck speed, your feet never touching the ground, before stopping without warning as he dips you low. He looms above you, his smile filled with sharp teeth.

“Let me get an eyeful. Oh, yes, you look good enough to eat,” he simpers. His hand splays along the small of your back and you gawk up at him, still trying to regain your balance after the sickness-inducing whirl. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.”

“I just want to leave,” you whimper. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Sunshine,” he laughs, and it echoes with all of his heart—do once-hanged witches have a heart? There is no historical journey to give context to this very moment, you fear.

He lowers his sultry gaze to you. “I wish to only thank you. And I intend to.”

He pulls you back to your feet. You’re still clasped in his embrace like lovers on a ballroom floor. His hand hooks tight to your hip, and his other catches the side of your face. Heat spreads through the marrow of your bones.

On the tabletop beside you, something white moves across the plane of its surface, hunkering behind the thick stack of candles still burning.

His head lowers to your neck. You stiffen as he tilts your head away, opening you to his parting teeth. A tongue, dark and sinuous, flicks out of his maw. A gasp slips from your lips at the wet lick up the column of your throat. Eyelids fluttering, you start to sag as weakness fills your knees. He drags his tongue higher to taste your jawline and finishes at your cheek with a swipe for good measure.

Your hands find him and clutch tightly to his slender arms. He presses his lips to your ear and with a misty warmth, whispers.

“Thank you for—Gah!”

The white rabbit leaps up from the table, squirming directly between you and his chest, breaking you apart. Instinctively, you jump away just as Sun snarls. The heart-wrenching sound shakes your entire frame as he snatches the rabbit by the scruff before it can scramble back from his wretched claws.

“I’ll boil you alive!” he thunders. He steps towards the cauldron, back where Moon leans against the wall, watching the spectacle with an amusing twitch of his grinning maw. Behind you, Eclipse stands at the door like a sentinel, his eyes still hungry and even furious as he follows his brother’s movement to the cauldron.

Sun dangles the rabbit, now struggling and kicking but unable to find purchase against the witch’s hold, above the boiling water of the caldron.

“No!” you cry.

Sun’s eyes widen. He turns back to you just as you close the distance and scoop the rabbit in your arms. His claws, pale-boned and wickedly curved, clench around emptiness. Without thought, you turn and run again though there is little hope as you come to the door. Your boots stamp against the wooden floorboards.

The rabbit in your embrace turns its face up to you and mutters in a woman’s voice, “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

You gawk, stunned before hands catch you by the shoulders. You’re brought to a dead halt. The rabbit leaps from your arms, drops to the floor, and races away into a shadowy corner of the room with only one glimpse of its fluffy tail before you’re left alone.

You twist and face the eldest witch’s attention. Eclipse. His yellow eyes go up and down your body, and you watch in muted shock as two additional arms emerge from the shadows of his cap. He forces you backward, one step after the other until your back is pinned against a dusty wall.

You stare into his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. Your pulse pounds in your eardrums.

“I don’t believe this is happening,” you utter.

The witch tilts his head with a wicked grin.

“We’ll make you a believer yet.” He promises, and his deep cords vibrate through your form. “My dear, we simply must thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

His claws slip over your collarbones. Your breath quickens, a stirring you cannot name unfolding deep within your middle. His extra set of hands fall to your hips and begin caressing the bones. Daintily, carefully, his warm fingertips slip just underneath the hem of your sweater, touching your bare flesh. A shiver runs down your entire body, leaving you to squirm.

“Be a good little comet,” he says softly, “Let me pour my gratitude all over you.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t know it was true,” you stare into his face, marked with a red crescent over a dark shadow, and his eyes pierce into the very nature of your being. “You’re back.”

“Because of you,” he rumbles softly in his chest. His grin pulls higher at the corners.

His claws slip over the nap of your neck and card gently into the small, sensitive hairs at the bottom of your skull. You breathe in. His eyes brighten in pleasure before he slips his sharp but controlled talons over the shells of your ears and follows the arch of your cheekbone. His gaze drops to your lips. Your heart thumps and thumps against your sternum so powerfully, you fear he may hear it.

His lips pull over his razor-sharp teeth and you stop breathing.

His other set of hands begins working up the sides of your torso. He rubs slowly and gently, but you squirm despite this. He touches you far too intimately when you have never experienced such affections before. A mewl escapes your lips. You wriggle as he refuses to relent.

In answer, his upper hands lower and capture your hands together in one, and pin them above your head to hold you in place. He coos, chastising. A great roil starts in your stomach and expands upwards until your face becomes pink and flushed.

“Hold still, little comet,” he chuckles, and you whimper. “I’m not finished with showering you in all my adoration.”

“Eclipse,” your breath is harsh and hot.

“It is good to hear my name upon such lovely lips,” his voice lowers, husky and scorching. “I knew a virgin would light the candle. I swore it to my brothers as they set us on the gallows and draped nooses around our necks. You are our light, our savior. How could I ever thank you?”

In his words, his burning stare that singes with sincerity, it clicks into place. All at once, you believe what you are seeing with your own two eyes.

It’s true. He’s back. He and his brothers have returned with magic.

“I have questions,” you say hesitantly in your demureness, “I want answers.”

“Of course,” Eclipse agrees easily. “But first…”

A dark claw brushes your hair back from your face. The flutter in your heart can’t seem to hold still. Eclipse’s grin widens and his eyes soften.

“You have freckles like constellations,” he murmurs in the manner of one gazing at the night sky or one studying an ornate painting.

Before you can shape words to reply, to say anything that might free you from his grasp, his mouth is upon yours. A sound softly catches in the back of your throat. You fall still under his caressing hands still moving below your sweater. He traces the row of your ribs. You have just enough mind to wonder if he feels your skin prickle in your sensitivity. His other hand clasps your wrists tighter. You gasp against his teeth.

He pulls gently, hungrily, taking you as if a bite of honeycomb. You become melted honey, easily malleable between his teeth and then molded by his mouth. His tongue invades you. You moan softly at the claim he lays upon you until you become weak in the knees and almost fall. His kiss seals your fate.

He releases you from his maw. You sink slightly, and his arms fall out from under your sweater to properly catch you. He lowers your wrists, returns your hands, and brushes your hair once more from your face.

A chuckle emits from his lips, and you burn.

“You’ll stay with us, won’t you?” he asks, but he waits for no answer as he scoops you into his arms. Feet dangling, you have no choice but to cling to his shoulders and endure his brothers’ attention as he twists around and faces them.

The rabbit’s right. You are in trouble. Michael warned you. He said curiosity killed the cat.

But charm brought it back.

#naff's writing commissions #witches and rabbits and candles oh my #if michael was there he would be so mad at you for lighting the candle smh #hocus pocus au my beloved #witch!eclipse #witch!sun #witch!moon #charm brought it back #naff writing

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cutiekaijumuseum · 6 months ago

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A little trivia for those that just got introduced to Ultraman thanks to Ultraman Rising

You know that part where baby kaiju Emi is shown a kids cartoon with an earworm of a song?

That cartoon is real!! It's called Kaiju Step Wandabada and it stars cute kid versions of different monsters from different Ultraman series (mostly the original from 1966 wich Rising is also based on). The opening shown in the movie is in stop-motion while the cartoon itself is in 2D.

The Ultraman heroes don't appear in person, but bizarrely enough they seem to exist as fictional superheroes in-universe, with the kaiju kids having toys and dolls of them. It's no surprise Emi liked it so much! She would be right at home in this show!

The episodes are 5 minutes long, there are two seasons of 26 episodes each for a total of 52. The official Tsurubaya channel has the first episodes of both seasons uploaded...

youtube

...but the rest were sadly only up for a limited time cuz gotta sell the dvds. What is officially available online right now is a series of educational shorts.

Some years ago Marvel Comics got the rights to make Ultraman comics and made a mini-series called "The Rise of Ultraman" (no relation), and these Kaiju Step designs got to appear as part of in-universe instructional videos about dealing with monsters and aliens:

So let's have a quick rundow on the little monsters and where each comes from:

Pigmon or Pig-chan is the main protagonist and new kid in town (forest). This coral-looking guy is one of the most iconic and recurring ultra monsters and the go-to kid-friendly one, as he stood out among the original set of kaiju for being friendly and heroic (as well as human-sized). He has the bad habit of dying in many of his apperences but fortunately that's not the case here.

Kanegon or Kane-chan is the second member of the protagonist trio, and the most energic and simple-minded. A coin purse monster that eats money, and usually a human kid under a curse. He actually pre-dates Ultraman, appearing in the black-and-white anthology series Ultra Q wich had monsters but not superheroes. Fortunately this one doesn't need to eat money and was born a kaiju.

Alien Dada or Dada-chan is the reliable but temperamental inventor of the trio, he dreams of building a rocket ship. One of the most iconic villains from the original 1966 Ultraman (and that's saying a lot), it's a weird alien with weird powers looking for human subjects for his weird experiments, like testing his shrinking ray. He really earns the name of a weird art movement.

Gomora or Gomo-chan is probably the most iconic ultra kaiju of all. Remember how in Ultraman Rising there is this whole sequence where the dad omniously talks about fighting him? There is a good reason for that. Gomora had the only two-parter in the original 1966 series, and was able to actually defeat Ultraman in their first figh. He's essentially Godzilla if he lived underground rather than underwater (He's even been a good guy and had a robot counterpart). Here, however, Gomora is a chill guy who's passionate about agriculture. (btw, you can also spot Gomora in Rising on a screen around an hour and eight minutes into the movie).

Red King or just Red is another iconic ultra dino, that looks like corn. In the show he's brute but well-meaning, and has a friendly sport rivalry with Kemur-chan. But in the Ultraman series he's a sadistic and murderous bully who beats up weaker monsters but gets his butt kicked rather easily by Ultraman (although more recent incarnations have have been more positive, both in his fighting ability and sometimes even becoming a loving father). (and yes, you are right, he's not red).

Jamira or Jami-chan is a passionate archeologist and fossil collector in the show, whereas in the original Ultraman he was a human astronaut that got infected by a virus. He hasn't appeared much beyond his debut... but doesn't need to, as his episode was very memorable in how sad and tragic it was. I can't imagine the target audience's whiplash seeing this cute creature one moment collecting fossils and the next having a horrible sad death. I guess one could say the same for most of the characters, but this one takes the cake.

Miclas or Mic-chan is the youngest character, a baby, and loves bugs. He was one of the "capsule monsters" from the second ultra series, Ultra Seven. Sometimes the titular ultra wouldn't be able to fight himself so he would summon up to three very loyal monsters from little capsules to do the fighting instead (or at least buy some time, they weren't very strong). One was a triceratops, another was a robot bird, but the most iconic had to be Miclas because really, what even is he? Some kind of bull toad hybrid? (By the way, fun fact, the capsule monsters were one of the inspirations for Pokemon).

King Joe (yes, that's his name) or Joe-chan is a robot controlled by alien invaders and is to Ultra Seven what Gomora is to the original Ultraman: he's the subject of a two-parter and was able to beat the hero to a pulp at first, made harder to fight by his ability to divide into three flying parts. Fortunately this Joe is very shy and very friendly.

Eleking or Ele-chan from Ultra Seven is another of the "mascot" ultra kaiju. If two ultra kaiju have to appear in anything, chances are they will be Gomora and Eleking. In fact, in Ultraman Rising you can see Eleking in a monitor right next to Gomora (around an hour and eight minutes in). It's a dinosaur-like eel monster with (of course) electric powers, and the enforcer of an all-female bug-like alien species set to conquer the earth, that are nonetheless very affectionate towards their pet-weapon dino-eel. The fact that Eleking's masters are always women may explain why the Kaiju Step one is a very femenine and elegant girl despite having King in the name, though no less dangerously electric.

Alien Guts or Guts-chan here is a very little alien bird child who can multiply into three separate individuals to cause all the destruction in their sincere attempts to help out. The original duo from Ultra Seven meanwhile are ruthless alien invaders that are infamous for freaking crucifying the aforementioned hero, leading to decades of japanese media having christian imagery for the sake of looking cool, most notably Neon Genesis Evangelion, because these birds did it first and it looked so cool.

Alien Kemur or Kemu-chan is a very agile alien that comes from the distant future of 2020 to consume humans and extend his lifespan. Here he's a friendly but competitive ninja from the present, and has a rivalry with Red King being the speed to his strenght. Like Kanegon, he pre-dates Ultraman, being from Ultra Q.

Motokureron or Kureron-chan originates from the whimsical, fairy-tale like Ultraman Taro. A kid found him as a baby and fed him until he grew to giant size, but when the kid couldn't feed him anymore he turned destructive; fortunately he was easy to pacify with food, including the kind that made him shrink. He retains his glutonny and clumsiness in Kaiju Step, often doing the bad thing (tm) so the others can teach the kids in the audience why you shouldn't do the bad thing (tm).

Nova or No-chan originates from the surprisingly dark Ultraman Leo. This creepy and bizarre ghost-like alien created a red mist that made people go crazy, and manipulated a kid with illusions of his deceased family, and under his cloth there are lots of tentacles and a scythe. So of course, in Kaiju Step she's a happy and energic little girl that loves to sing.

Mugera or Muge-chan is by far the most obscure kaiju of the cast. She's from the 2001 series Ultraman Cosmos, the one where the titular hero protects monsters instead of fighting them. Mugera is an ET-like cryptid that lives in an amusement park that only kids can see, with the ability to fix toys and heal wounds with her magic. After the amusement park closes down she phones home and the protagonists have to protect her from the goverment wich is a little too eager to shoot down the UFO that came to pick her up. In Kaiju Step she likes reading and plants.

And that was your daily dose of kaiju sugar, that may be overdose because you probably already met Emi. Cheers!

#ultraman #ultraman rising #kaiju step #kaiju #marvel comics #long post

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satorusugurugurl · 6 months ago

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Hi, I saw your post about jjk characters with a reader who has ed but could you do something similar but with an ed type like "I don't deserve to eat" because honestly I'm closer to that than worrying about my appearance. Well, you know when you were brought up that food, especially sweets, was a reward, and when you did something wrong, you were forbidden to eat. I would be very grateful. Thank you in advance

I Don’t Deserve It

Summary: How will JJK men react to you not eating because of your past?

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3,412

Warnings: E.D, childhood trauma, PTSD, self-loathing, language, fluff, the boys being sweet

A/N: Hi there, Nonnie. Thanks for the request! I did my best with this one. I hope you enjoy it! 💚💚💚

Gojo Satoru:

It was hot, too damn hot to be outside. You whined, shielding your eyes from the sun above, and you limped behind your students and boyfriend, Gojo Satoru. You had gotten yourself into a little bit of a pickle on your mission. You quickly took out the grade two curse you were sent to exorcise. You, however, fell down the flight of stairs in the old Hospital and needed to call them for assistance.

Falling down the stairs was so utterly embarrassing. A sorcerer of yours should be more graceful and more tentative and careful. If your mother had been around, she would’ve reprimanded you, claiming you were nothing but a failure. That you needed to be severely reprimanded for your error. Your mother had been such a bitch. Even though you weren’t in contact with her anymore, her lessons still stuck with you to this day.

“Gojo! Gojo! Let’s get some ice cream!” Itadori and Kugisaki pointed frantically at the convenience store you were passing.

“Ah, yeah, ice cream sounds delicious right now! Yuuji, come on, let’s grab some! Megumi and Nobara, you're on drink detail!” your blindfolded boyfriend turned his head towards you, staring for a long moment before facing the shop. “You just stay here, babe.”

Embarrassment twisted your guts like they were knots on a boat. Of course, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age would be embarrassed by such a simple mistake you had made. If you made such a simple error as falling down the stairs on an easy mission, why would he want you to help get drinks and ice cream for the kids? Your bottom lip quivered as you shook your head, sitting on a bench outside the shop.

While your students and boyfriend headed into the shop, you could feel the heat plummeting down on you. On hot summer days like this, when you had made an error in your training or forgot to do something in the house, your mother would always make you sit outside. Other family members snacked on ice cream and drinks, while your mother always denied you the right to lovely cold iced tea or an ice cream cone.

“You failed me today; you do not deserve a treat. Sweets, like these, are earned, not given.”

Her words still rang in your ears as sweat slid down the back of your neck. It would be a long walk back to the school without anything to keep you cool. You needed to be more careful on your missions, especially now that it was summertime. It was bad enough you fell down a flight of stairs. You couldn’t imagine how you would be lectured for fainting in the heat.

“Mmm!” Yuuji hummed happily, licking his ice cream as a sliding door to the convenience store dinging the four returned. Megumi held a bag as Nobara chugged down some of her green tea. “This is great! Thanks Gojo!”

“Yeah, thanks.” Megumi nodded his head as he sipped on a bottle of water.

“It's too damn hot out here! We should go to the beach! Oooh, or a water park; maybe an agency will approach me!” You couldn’t help but smile as the trio of students talked amongst themselves and made plans to beat the summer heat. Your mindless star was cut short as an icy cold bag pressed firmly against your hot cheek.

You jumped, startled by the sudden cold against your face. Pulling back, you glanced up at your boyfriend, whose dimple deepened as he grinned. “Easy there, it’s just me, you’re loving boyfriend, with an ice cream for you.” Something in your chest swelled as you glanced at the ice cream he handed you, still wrapped in plastic.

“Huh?”

“Uh, ice cream? For my girlfriend, here.”

He waved the treat in front of your face, emphasizing his point. When you said nothing, he waved it again, tilting his head in confusion as to why you were so hesitant about taking it. There was a look in your eyes as you just stared at the sweet treat that had him tilting his head to the other side, pursing his lips together.

He sighed, flopping down on the seat next to you, his long legs stretched out. He was ripping the plastic and holding the unwrapped ice cream towards you. “Here you go, babe.” Your fingers inched closer toward the waffle cone before you promptly pulled them back.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you get me this?”

Gojo pulled his blindfold up; eyebrows scrunched together as his mouth was agape in confusion. “Because it's a bajillion degree outside? Because I bought the students ice cream and one. Why wouldn’t I get my girlfriend one too?” Gojo seemed insulted that you would ask such a naïve question.

“N-No, I get that, but I didn’t do anything to deserve it. You had to rescue me today. And now you’re giving me a prize for nothing?”

“Who in their right mind told you that?!”

With flushed cheeks, you glance down at the ground. “Uhm, well—my mother always told me that sweets were a reward. I never used to get them as a kid. Hell, even meals sometimes were considered a reward after training.” A sudden spike of nausea rose in your throat at the unpleasant memories of your childhood.

Gojo remained silent momentarily, taking your words as meaningful instructions for an important project. Instead of saying anything, he grabbed you by your chin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it so your eyes met his. His usual charismatic, carefree charm was void, as were his gorgeous eyes. Instead, you were met with nothing but worry. Seeing him look at you like that caught you off guard as he leaned in, gently pressing a kiss against your lips.

Your eyes went wide, darting towards the trio who didn’t pay you any mind. The kiss wasn’t heated or full of desire like it usually was. It was nothing but genuine, passionate love. You kissed him back, slowly closing your eyes as your arms wrapped around his neck. Gojo pulled back, grabbing your chin, tapping the ice cream against your bottom lip, grinning wide.

“Your mother was a mythic bitch. God, I would love to beat her ass for torturing you as a child.” he sighed before turning to watch you take the ice cream, unwrapping it. “You don't have to do anything to deserve a treat. If you want one, have one, especially after a rough mission. I always get myself a treat after a mission! It's like a little reward.” His large hand stroked your hair as you happily licked the ice cream. “We gotta work on fixing that mentality.”

Your shoulders feel light as the ice cream begins to cool you down. “Right, I think this,” you motion towards the ice cream in your hand, “is a great start.” Gojo barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh baby, this is just convenience store ice cream. Wait until I take you to my absolute favorite shop downtown!”

On the way back to school, the five of you laughed as you ate your ice cream. Gojo sucked on his

while he carried you on his back. You were lucky to have a man who would tell you when you were inevitably wrong, and you were worse so much more than you thought.

Geto Suguru:

You stood in the kitchen, watching the girls running around playing, which was a good thing seeing that you had screwed up and forgotten to pick them up after school. The morning had been hectic, from filling out paperwork to doing housework, and it has just managed to slip away from you.

You were cutting vegetables for dinner when the school called. At first, you were confused, but the second you glanced at the clock, your stomach fell into your ass. You ran all the way to the school, finding the girls eagerly waving at you from the steps where their teacher glowered down at you.

“Sorry! I lost track of time, sweet peas!”

“That’s okay!” Nanako said as she held onto her sister’s hand. “We figured you were held up and knew either you or Geto would show up!”

“Mhmm!” Mimiko agreed as they tread down the steps together.

You ruffled their hands as they passed you before turning to their teacher. “I’m sorry time got the better of me. Thank you for waiting with them.” typically, people would say it wasn’t a problem, but this teacher shot daggers out at you as she stepped down to face you head-on.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” Her words weighed you down as you stared at her in confusion and shock. “You call yourself a mother or a guardian? Your generation is so lazy and self-entitled, caring about no one but yourselves.”

“Excuse me; you're wro—”

“Lazy, ungrateful people like you don’t deserve the happiness they were blessed with.” She shoved past you, heading down the sidewalk. “You don’t deserve it.”

The elderly teacher was an insane coldhearted bitch. Shit happens, like losing track of time. She could fuck off all you cared. Both you and Subaru worked hard to make the girls feel loved. She didn’t know what she was talking about. So you brushed off her cruel words to the side, holding both girls’ hands as you walked home together.

Ignoring the teacher was easy, but her words triggered unpleasant memories for you. It was her and the guilt in your stomach for losing track of time that triggered flashbacks to play in your mind. Your father told you you did nothing and deserve your mother because you didn’t prepare it when you had been training all day. You never got to enjoy a warm meal with your family on days like that.

Moments and bad habits like that tended to stick around like a scar. Even when you were an adult, you knew you didn’t do anything wrong, but the interaction with the teacher and memories from your childhood had you sinking in on yourself—the little girl who watched her family eat without her.

The door opened, and Suguru grinned as the girls ran at him, throwing their arms around his legs and giggling as he walked into the kitchen. His eyes were warm down the top of their heads. You smiled at him before looking away, your stomach growling.

“Welcome home, Geto!”

“Thanks, girls.” he placed a big watermelon on the kitchen counter, drawing that girl's attention along with your own. “Look what Yaga gave me. It’s nice and cold. Perfect for dessert tonight.”

Your mouth watered as Nanamo and Mimiko chanted excitedly, watching Suguru wash his hands before cutting into the melon with a knife. Your fingers slowly inched forward, but you pulled away, focusing on your phone instead. If your father were here, he would remind you that you didn’t deserve to eat with your family. Because you had forgotten to pick up the girls today

“You girls ate all of your dinner, right?” Your boyfriend asked as he grabbed two slices of the sweet red melon, holding them out in front of the girls.

“Yes, Geto!”

“We ate everything!”

“Good, here you go.” They took the slices eagerly, munching on the bright red fruit. While they happily ate, Geto turned his attention toward you. He pushed some of his dark bangs out of his vision. “And you, Princess? Did you eat all of your dinner?”

“No.”

Your boyfriend blinked, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Why not?” His voice lowered as he grabbed a slice of the melon.

“I don’t deserve to eat.” Those five words wait a ton, causing your boyfriend’s face to contort with concern.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t. I screwed up and forgot to pick up the girls today. Their teacher made sure to let me know. I didn’t deserve to be as blessed as I am.”

Suguru scoffed, narrowing his gaze as he grabbed your face in one hand, squeezing it so your lips were puckered. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You work your ass off every day to take care of our blessings. There’s no reason why you don’t deserve to eat.”

“My father would disagree with you on that.”

“Well,” your boyfriend squeezes your cheeks gently. “If I ever meet your father, I’m going to feed him to my curses because he doesn’t deserve to breathe for making you feel like that.”

“Sugu—mm!”

The tip of the watermelon slice is promptly shoved into your mouth. “I don’t want to hear you argue because, for once, you’re wrong.” You felt like all the worry on your shoulders and the grip your father had on you began to fade away. “Now be a good girl and chew.”

You take a bite, the sweet juices flooding your mouth. You moan at the taste, swallowing before taking another bite. Seeing the smile on your face, your boyfriend grinned back as he gently continued to hold the watermelon for you.

“Hey, Ma didn't eat her dinner!” Nanako chimed in as both she and Mimiko happily continued to eat their slices

“Oh, I know we’re just doing things out of order tonight.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun. Can we do that tomorrow night?!” The girls ask in unison before you and Suguru, smiling before saying yes. Sometimes, life was messy, but you just had to go with the flow and take one moment at a time, even if that meant doing things out of order.

Nanami Kento:

“My love,” you glanced up from your book as Nanami stepped inside the apartment, removing his glasses. “I’m home.”

Your book is thrown across the couch as you leap your feet, rushing to throw your arms around your husband. “Welcome home, Kento!” His hand gently grabs the back of your head as you kiss him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He presses another longing, soft kiss against your lips. “I’m starving. I can’t wait to unwind with a nice warm meal with you.”

You pull away, and Nanami watches your face pale. You yank yourself away from his arms, your hand covering up to cover your mouth as you mentally start cursing yourself out. Being a housewife meant you got to take care of the house, shop for groceries, and prepare dinner for your husband without worrying about working as an assistant supervisor. Today, you cleaned the house, shopped for groceries, and did laundry but failed to do the most important thing.

Make dinner for your beloved husband, who worked all day.

“Oh my God, fuck me!” You rushed to the kitchen, throwing the fridge open and trying to figure out what you could make. “I’m so sorry, Ken.”

“Love, it’s al—”

“No, no, I’m so sorry. I’ll make something for you, or I could pick something up.”

“Honey—”

“I’m sorry.” In this state, you weren’t sure if you could cook anything with your shaking hands. “I’ll order you something. Please go take a bath and relax; I got this!”

Your husband frowned but didn’t argue with you. He just stared for a long moment before heading into your room to change, leaving you a shaking mess as you ordered him a sandwich and soup from the bakery down the street, not adding anything for yourself. With the food ordered, you paced the kitchen, biting down on your thumbnail with a sigh; terrible memories from your childhood and your weeping mother flashed.

When you were little, your mother was a stay-at-home mom while your father was on missions. Both your parents loved each other and rarely fought, but your father’s mother was a terrible human being. Whenever your mother was overwhelmed and wasn’t able to cook dinner, your grandmother would yell and scream at her, telling her she was a terrible wife and homemaker. On days like that, your mother would weakly smile before preparing something quick for everyone to enjoy.

Your mother would never join in, even when the hot meal was prepared or purchased. Your grandmother chastised her for even considering joining them for a meal she had forgotten to make. Your mother would stay in the kitchen until everyone else had eaten before she might consider eating for herself. Which rarely happened in fear of how your grandmother would react.

You never thought you would find yourself in her shoes one day. On top of that, you had done hardly anything compared to the miracles your mother made. She raised children, kept up with the house, cleaned, and ensured everything was in order. You and Nanami were just two people to care for in a small, comfortable home. Compared to your mother, who took care of your entire clan, you were pathetic.

If your grandmother were still around, she would lecture you like she had your mother countless times before.

You had failed as a housewife, and that fact had your stomach churning with nausea as you carried the plate of delivered food to Nanami, who had just walked out of the bedroom, freshly showered and changed. You handed him the plate, keeping your eyes glued to the floor with a frown. Your gaze was suddenly lifted as Nanami took the plate with one hand and grabbed your chin with the other, forcing you to look at his face.

“I’m sorry, Kento.”

“Please don’t apologize for something so minuscule; it’s fine.”

“You worked all day while I stayed at home. It should’ve been done.”

You sat at the table, staring at the placement before you, and your husband began eating in silence, his eyes glancing towards the table, finding nothing on a plate for you. A blonde brow cocked as he swallowed the bite in his mouth.

“Love, where’s your food?” You frown, dropping your head lower. “Darling?”

“I don’t deserve to eat with you. I’ll eat tomorrow morning.”

You listen as the chair across from you slides against the wooden floor. There are a few footsteps before the chair beside you pulls out, and Nanami’s body wash invades your senses. Your eyes clamp shut, but you hear rustling instead of a stern lecture. Opening one eye, you find half his sandwich on the placemat before you.

“Kento, what are you—!”

“I want to share my food because despite your thinking you did nothing today, just because you were at home is not the case.” He takes another bite, the bread crunching deliciously, making your stomach growl loud. “You cleaned the house and reorganized our bathroom.” He took another bite. “Then you dusted the office, shopped for groceries, and on top of all of that, you did our laundry.”

Your husband was one of the most considerate men in the entire world. He took notice of the little things you did and always made sure you knew how much he appreciated you. So, not being angry that there was no dinner waiting for him at home had your heart skipping a beat.

“Kent—”

“Nuh-uh, unless the next words out of your mouth revolve around the sandwich, and it's good to save it; I don’t want an apology. I don’t want to hear how you didn’t do a good job. Because that’s not right, take such wonderful care of our home. I love you more than anything in this world.”

You pick the other half of the sandwich up, smiling at him. “Thank you, Kento.” You take a bite, the bread crunching as you do. You hum happily at the delightful taste that swarms your taste buds. “Mhmm!” Kento grins, leaning over and pressing the softest kiss against your temple.

“I love you; thank you for taking such good care of the house.”

“I love you too, Kento; thank you for all your hard work!” Your smile is as bright as the sun as you hold up half of the sandwich. “And thanks for sharing!”

Nanami gently taps the half of his sandwich against yours as if clinking glasses together. “You’re welcome, my love.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

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chryzure-archive · 2 years ago

Note

1, 3, 8 for any AU you like 👀

answering for the heart donor au!

1. Share the first line of your au you’ve written

After he got the diagnosis, Jacks got meaner.

3. Share your favorite line you’ve written

“I can’t believe you kissed her!” Azure shouted in the way ghosts shouted—which was to say there was a whole lot of psychic pressure and no sound at all.

8. Draw a scene from your au

azure was looking at THIS photo strip like “no, it’s fine that my girlfriend is flirting w jacks. rlly, it’s fine!” smash cut to him yelling at jacks for kissing chrysi

#.asks #m.filly✨#s.chrysijacks #s.chryzure #star cursed trio

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ghostlyfleur · 9 months ago

Text

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

eddie munson x shy!oc

contents: anxiety, curse words, friends to lovers. lovesick!eddie, inexperienced!reader, self-consciousness, first kiss, sharing clothes. eddie’s jacket is oversized on reader. can be read as x reader, but a bit oc too? carnival date.

word count: ~1.5k

eddie munson is in love.

she is entirely inexperienced in anything romantic or sexual; no first kiss, never even got close to it. extremely shy and anxious, has a seemingly innocent aura, is a bit out of sorts, ditzy, with a sort of luna lovegood vibe. doesn’t argue with people, always tears up if confronted about anything, doesn’t have beef with anyone and is a lot more rational than emotional even though she tears up so easily. also doesn’t hold grudges or care what people think of her…

the thing is, she has been introverted her whole life, a very anxious person, and so doesn’t understand that eddie munson likes her because she needs to be told how people feel about her very explicitly otherwise her mind will convince her they hate her. anxiety is like that. and she’s the kind of person that has a hard time realizing that people can perceive their existence and have feelings for them, no matter what type of feelings, so even though eddie is not at all shy about flirting with her and giving her all of the attention in the world in his over-the-top, overdramatic way, he also knows that if anything other than the friendship he’s thankfully managed to build with her is going to happen, romantic-wise, that she has to be the one to initiate it— but she’s oblivious!

on the other hand though, she doesn’t even bother hiding her infatuation with eddie — it’s a lot more than infatuation by now. she’s always looking at him with stars in her eyes and laughs at his jokes and smiles that big, square, goofy smile whenever they lock eyes and constantly praises him because he deserves to feel as special as he is, right? and she goes into detailed talks about lord of the rings with him, likes many of the same bands he does or simply lets him play his favorites for her, and she truly loves to watch hellfire play dungeons & dragons.

her eds even made her a special edition pink hellfire shirt. ‘cause he’s a simp.

one day, as she’s out with chrissy and heather outside a diner, talking and laughing and catching up, eddie is close by somewhere with friends. his van is parked nearby.

it starts getting chilly, and eddie’s girl starts shivering, so she quickly excused herself away from the girls, “gimme a second!” and reaches through the open window of eddie’s van, making a mental note to grill him about it later — “‘cause it isn’t safe, eds!” — to grab his leather jacket thinking of how he has told her over and over that she can borrow it, that “what’s mine is yours, sweets. i don’t mind sharing if it’s with you”, so she figures it’s okay, right? and goes back to the girls who are fucking smirking like they see something she doesn’t.

it’s about fifteen minutes later, and eddie is walking towards the trio, simply because he misses his girl and wants a hug, when he sees it.

she’s wearing his jacket. his jacket.

in typical eddie fashion, he makes a scene— gasping dramatically, he clutches his chest over his heart and falls to his knees, because fuck what anyone around thinks. his precious girl is wearing his fucking jacket! and she looks like a fucking angel.

“eds, what are you doin’?”

“do you know how heavenly you look in my jacket? i just had to get on my knees to worship you.”

the boy shuffles closer to his sweet girl on his knees still while he talks and she’s flustered, okay? she’s shy and her face is on fire and she’s covering her cheeks and giggling. and because it’s eddie, her eddie, she’s not running away to have a panic attack. ‘cause it’s eddie and he’s being sweet, so she can’t focus on anyone else long enough to feel crippling anxiety or embarrassment. doesn’t even care that chrissy is cooing and heather is smirking.

“that jacket is yours now, you own it. you pretty much own me by now.” eddie says, on his knees, in front of her

“it’s okay that i took it right?” she makes sure even after his display of joy, ‘cause anxiety isn’t rational “you said i—”

her eddie knows her, though. he stands up, gets real fucking close to her, so close they’re almost touching, with this look of absolute adoration and “i’d give ya everything i have if i could, pretty.”

fast forward a few days later. chrissy kept yapping on and on to the oblivious girl about how “in love” eddie is, but it’s as though her brain won’t let her even entertain the idea.

that’s until she’s having a semi-regular quote unquote friend-date with eddie, something they’ve done quite a few times before, and this time they go to the fair. they’re doing everything couples might do, eddie is very aware of this, and he’s over the moon to just be enjoying quality time with his pretty girl until she spots a photobooth, “oh, eds! we have to!” and eddie’s desperately counting coins to pay. the pictures go a little something like this:

after coming up blank with pose ideas, they just look at each other and laugh, but at the sound of his free and bright laugh, she just stares at her boy like he’s a dream come true— first pic is taken, looking at eddie like he hung the moon while he’s mid-laugh.

eddie notices her staring and goes from loud laughs to breathless ones, a smile on his lips, and whispers a soft “what?”— second picture is taken as the girl quickly presses her lips to his, her very first kiss, and it’s caught on camera.

the third picture depicts eddie’s sweet girl nervously rambling “i was going to ask for permission first, i promise!” while eddie has a glassy, dreamy look on his face, slack jawed, looking at her lips.

and at the fourth snap? eddie presses forward to shut her up with another impossibly soft and tender kiss, both of their eyes are closed and his hand is holding her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.

after they part from the second kiss, eddie acknowledges that it was her first kiss, a shy “was that okay?” to which his sweetheart just smiles really big and nods excitedly over and over with a breathless giggle. that was the perfect first and second kiss and she couldn’t ask for more.

they hold hands the rest of the night.

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netmors · 7 months ago

Note

Us Karyn Stans eat so well with you ❤️ thank you 😊

Faro is sometimes a very shy woman :3

#answers to questions and comments))#star wars #eleventh fleet au #karyn faro #eli vanto #thrawn #admiral faro #mitth'raw'nuruodo #star wars rebels #ahsoka series #au #cursed space trio #recently i read in a book how eli first talked about faro - it’s very funny :3 #i want to see how eli and karyn troll each other for the first time #and thrawn in his typical manner doesn't understand what is happening between these two

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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tw - fem!reader, emotional manipulation, possessive behavior, prolonged imprisonment.

“Mistress prisoner?”

There was a knock, the sound of hoofed feet shuffling against a tile floor. You shrunk into yourself, suddenly thankful you’d chosen to take such a claustrophobic linen closet to seek refuge in, that Neuvillette’s awful gowns provided so much fabric for you to bury yourself in.

“Mistress prisoner? Are you alright?”

Another knock, a round of hushed whispering. Clearly, he’d sent more than one, this time.

“Should we get a healer for you, mistress?”

You swore under your breath, burying your face in your knees. Curse your bleeding heart.

Slowly, taking pains to wipe the lingering tears from your cheeks without wrinkling the fine silk of your sleeve, you pushed yourself to your feet. He was a bastard of a man, an underhanded thief masquerading as the living embodiment of justice, but tragically, Neuvillette had caught on to the only weakness you had in this palace of unearned punishments and hollow promises. You would be able to bear it if he thought of you as a petulant child, too stubborn to accept his protection or his love, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be quite so heartless when it came to the melusines.

You pulled the door open, resting your shoulder against the frame. He’d sent three, this time – all wearing modified garde uniforms and none standing taller than your waist. They were clustered close together, but as you emerged, the centermost girl stepped forward, this one totting pastel pink skin and curling horns and cheeks you’d give anything to squeeze. “We spoke with Monsieur Neuvillette,” she started, clearly shy despite having appointed herself as the leader of their little group. When she paused, her gaze fell away from yours, dropping to her feet. “He said you wouldn’t mind if we asked why you don’t want to attend the opera with us, tonight.”

Oh, you were going to throttle that old man.

You forced yourself to smile. No part of you wanted to be seen in public with your captor, to hear onlookers praise his kindness, his willingness to care for even the most irredeemable of criminals while knowing he wouldn’t make it past the first aria before finding some reason to pull you into some unused dressing room and abuse his authority yet again. But, explaining the length of your hatred to the creatures he showed so much fondness toward would be like trying to tell a child that their favorite candy was the source of their aching cavities. You were better off saving your breath. “Neuvillette didn’t mention that you’d be coming with us.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise.” It was the blue one, this time – with flowers dotted across her arms and legs and a tone so meek, it was all you could do not to take her into your arms and promise her that you’d go to as many operas as she could stand to attend. “He said it’d help to raise your spirits.”

You let out a soft coo, crouching down to their height. “It was a very sweet idea,” you said, fighting not to melt at the sight of their little, doe-like noses and big, star-filled eyes. “And I very much appreciate that you three would care enough to try and cheer me up. It’s only…”

You paused, clicked your tongue. Predictably, the third member of their little trio (who had yet to uncross her arms or drop her adorably pointed glare) chimed in. “What is it? We don’t have all day, y’know.”

“Well, I might not be at my best, but Monsieur Neuvillette’s been awfully lonely lately too.” Lonely – that was one way to put it. It was hard to imagine he’d even be capable of feeling anything so fundamentally human. “I’m afraid, if I’m having so much fun with all of you, he might feel a little left out. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to do that to him, can’t you?”

There was a round of nodding heads, of words of affirmation. The leader piped up first, both hands balled into fists and wide eyes bright with a resilient spark. “We won’t let Monsieur Neuvillette get lonely!”

“We won’t leave his side!”

“We’ll stick to him like glue!”

With a breath of a laugh, you pulled the little trio into your arms and press a kiss into the tops of their heads. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, girls. I’ll see you at the opera house tonight, and remember–“

This time, you didn’t have to fake your smile.

“Don’t let Neuvillette go a moment without your delightful company.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x you #neuvilette x reader #yandere neuvillette #yanderecore #yancore

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amongemeraldclouds · 9 months ago

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chasing highs

No plot, just smut. You're welcome.

Mattheo x Lorenzo x f!Reader

Warning: 18+ MDNI, drug use, threes*me, v!fingering, oral (m!receiving), piv, unprotected sex, slight bondage, blindfolding, cursing, daddy kink, praise kink, no use of y/n. Characters are aged up.

Credit: Enzo and Matt artwork by the talented @finalgirllx ♡ The tie was doing something to me so it made it in the story.

✿ Masterlist | 2.6k words

The breeze carries the trail of smoke, curtains swaying in its wake as glowing embers crumble onto the soot stained carpet of Mattheo’s dorm. Curly hair falls carelessly from his forehead as he leans back to blow one final puff, indulging in the wave of relaxation that settles in his bones. Outside, the stars glitter stubbornly.

“My turn,” you reach out to Mattheo, trying to snatch the joint from between his fingers. Instead he holds it above him, out of reach. “Come get it,” he taunts.

You scrunch your face, annoyed by another one of his little games. Fueled by spite and sheer determination, you move closer and climb on his seated figure on the floor, rising to claim your prize.

Instead, your spite and sheer determination sends you toppling over Mattheo and his body cushions your fall. Heat rises to your cheeks when you look up to find his face just inches from yours. You drink in his long lashes and the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Beneath you, you savor the solid warmth of his body flush against yours and your breath catches when you feel his blood rush below. His chest rumbles out a seductive laugh as his free hand moves to your waist, shooting electric sparks through you. “We really need to stop finding ourselves in this position,” he breathes.

“It was just one time,” you bite back, heat pooling down your core at the memory of how good he felt inside you, scratches carved across his back and moans lost in his hungry kisses.

It may have just been one time, but it was hours of rediscovering pleasure and releasing inhibitions like never before. It was with Mattheo after all, the boy who always challenged you to go beyond your comfort zone while supporting you the entire time so it never felt as scary as it should have been. It didn’t hurt that you were also high when it happened.

“Salazar,” Enzo curses, rising from his spot on the floor to grab the joint that hangs dangerously close to the carpet. “You’ll burn this whole place down without me,” he accuses, shaking his head. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a hit in an attempt to relax.

A thought occurs to him just as he exhales the smoke. “Wait, you two had fun without me?” Hurt and betrayal dance across his features as guilt sinks into your chest. Growing up, you’ve done everything from learning magic to stirring up trouble together as a trio.

“It just happened,” you brush off nonchalantly, hoping he’d let it slide. Your attempts to move off Mattheo is seized by his strong grip around your waist. You try to ignore the way his breath hitches as you squirm in protest, unintentionally grinding against him. “Mattheo, let me go,” you tap his shoulder.

“Want to make it up to Enzo, dear?” He asks in a low voice. Enzo gulps at Mattheo’s words, anticipation rising from deep within him.

“Here, right now?” You ask incredulously, fighting the urge to rub your thighs together to soothe your aching core.

“Stop pretending,” he commands. “I bet if we touch your cunt right now, you’d be dripping all over my fingers.” Sometimes it’s difficult to be Mattheo’s best friend when he knows you all too well.

You relent, guilt mixing with desire, and bury your head in the crook of his neck in surrender. His grip on you softens, arms pulling you closer as if this is nothing but a sweet, innocent hug. “That’s my girl,” he says in your ear.

“Okay daddy,” you whisper in response. “Fuck,” he groans appreciatively as he rises, taking you with him.

“Kneel for daddy, princess,” he commands, pinning your arms behind your back as he faces you towards Enzo, whose jaw is slack in disbelief.

“Want to show Enzo just how much of a slut you are?” He challenges as he looms behind you, keeping your hands pinned.

You look into Enzo’s brown eyes and take in the curiosity and longing in his features as he watches you intently. “I’ll be a good girl for you tonight,” you promise. Mattheo hasn’t even touched your clothes yet you feel Enzo already undressing you with his eyes.

Mattheo runs his free hand along the side of your face, feeling each curve as he moves from your neck, down to your shoulder, drawing gooseflesh as he travels lower down to your waist.

The room falls quiet until all you hear are your shallow breaths. Electricity hums in the air as Mattheo unbuttons your blouse, each pop emphasized in the silence. Enzo’s eyes darken, following the movement downwards, committing your figure to memory. Fuck you’re so sexy, Enzo thinks.

Sparks bloom where Mattheo’s fingers graze your bare skin and next thing you know, your arms are free as he slips off your blouse and unclasps your bra, leaving you in just your skirt and underwear.

You shiver in the evening chill, but Mattheo is quick to bring his body against yours, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other squeezes your breast. You gasp at the sudden change in temperature, his touch both tender and harsh.

“Come here, Enzo. Our girl is ready for you,” he encourages.

Enzo walks across the room tentatively and asks you, “are you sure?”

“I want you, Enzo,” you affirm, already imagining how good he would taste and feel against your body, how well he would fit inside you.

He moves with more certainty this time, taking a drag to help calm his nerves. “Me too,” you tell him, expecting him to hand over the joint. Instead, he brings his lips to yours and exhales directly into your mouth. You close your eyes as you welcome the smoke.

“Have more, princess,” Mattheo says as he grabs the joint from Enzo and takes a long drag. You open your mouth for him and he passes the smoke to you. You lean back and rest your head on Mattheo’s shoulder as a wave of calm settles into your system and your senses come alive.

Enzo closes the distance and brings his lips to yours, kissing you this time. It starts out soft and tentative, as sweet as Enzo himself. But when you bring your fingers to his hair and pull him closer, all trace of politeness is smeared off. He bites your lower lip and explores your mouth with his tongue, gliding his hands across curve of your waist, pinning you between him and Mattheo.

You palm Enzo’s erection in response, rubbing his twitching cock against his trousers, and enjoy the vibration of his moan against your lips. You’re keenly aware of the fast rise and fall of Enzo’s chest while Mattheo takes one last drag before he snuffs out the blunt and returns his full attention to you.

Pushing your hair back, Mattheo plants gentle kisses on your neck and your toes curl. The dance between him being gentle and rough leaves you breathless for you couldn’t predict what’s coming next.

“Do you trust me, princess?” He asks, bringing his lips close to your ear, gently sucking at your earlobe. Enzo sends a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck, freeing your mouth to answer.

“Y-yes, daddy,” you whimper.

“What’s our safe word?”

“Scarlet,” you confirm, a wave of sobriety washing over you.

“Good girl.” You hear a rush of fabric as Mattheo removes his tie and uses it to bind your arms behind you. He gestures Enzo to hand over his before turning back to you. “Close your eyes princess, we’ll take good care of you.”

You do as you’re told, excitement humming within you when the world goes dark as Mattheo uses Enzo’s tie to blindfold you. “You’re going to feel real good,” Mattheo reassures you, securing the tie at the back of your head. He plants a chaste kiss on your cheek. He really needs to stop that, you think, as you feel both like a princess about to get spoiled and a whore bound and kneeling, eager to please your best friends.

Having lost your vision, you feel your other senses expand to compensate for it, further fueled by the drug-induced haze. You’re electrified by Mattheo’s shallow breaths against your skin and find yourself arching your back as Enzo kisses your breast, licking and leaving playful bites.

Mattheo’s fingers travel back down your lower body and you stop breathing when he reaches under your skirt, fingers teasing you through your panties. “Fuck, so wet for us,” he hums in approval as he moves the thin fabric aside to spread your slick all over your folds. Mattheo rubs slow lazy circles around your clit and Enzo kisses you again to capture your whimpers.

“Enzo, show her how you’re going to fill her up,” Mattheo encourages and a needy groan leaves your lips when you feel Enzo’s fingers graze your skirt, moving to your heated core. You nearly lose your balance when he rubs your slit before plunging his fingers inside you, but you find your body held upright between the two boys.

“Need to see how much of a slut you are,” Mattheo commands.

At his words, you move your hips against their hand, using their fingers to rub you exactly where you needed them. You can’t help the way your legs spread further apart for them, giving them more access to you as your juices drip onto the carpet. “So hungry,” Enzo breathes, pleasantly surprised to discover this side to you. Euphoria overrides your senses, making a moaning mess out of you.

“Daddy, I want to cum,” you ask Mattheo for permission.

“Not yet, baby,” he says, increasing his pace as Enzo curls his fingers, hitting the sensitive spot inside you. His free hand moves up to squeeze your breast, sending jolts of electricity through you.

You grunt in frustration and press your fingernails to your palm trying to stay in control, carving crescent shaped moons on your skin. “Sshh, I know princess, just a bit more,” Mattheo whispers.

It’s torture and heaven at the same time, your cunt growing more and more sensitive against their frenzied touch. “Please, fuck—” you beg as you find yourself teetering on the edge.

“Okay, princess. Show us how good we make you feel.” You cry out and come undone at Mattheo’s words, overwhelm sending you writhing against them as they continue their relentless pace, drawing out every last wave of pleasure.

You collapse against Enzo’s shoulder, trying to catch your breath. “You’re amazing,” you hear Enzo praise you as he gently strokes your hair.

“Need to know how you taste,” you beg once you feel yourself calm down. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Mattheo grabs your waist and lets you rest against him so Enzo can remove his clothes. His hand returns to your sensitive slit, fingers playing with your folds.

“Thank you, daddy,” you tell Mattheo and he covers your mouth in a hungry kiss. Beside you, you hear Enzo unbuckling his trousers, zipping it down to free his hard length.

Your centre of gravity shifts when Mattheo releases you and you feel Enzo fisting his hand through your hair, guiding you towards him. You open your mouth and close your lips around his cock, letting him thrust into you.

You try to stroke him but the restraints dig into your arms and you’re reminded again just how much you’re at their mercy. Instead, you roll your tongue against him and Enzo gasps at the euphoric jolt it sends. “You’re so pretty like this,” Enzo groans as he starts moving at a steady pace.

You rub your thighs together in anticipation when you hear Mattheo unzip his trousers. “Be a good girl for daddy,” he commands as he unties the restraints around your arms. He gently rubs them, soothing the discomfort away before he plants gentle kisses on the marks it left around your wrists.

He lifts you from your kneeling position to all fours and Enzo supports your hands before entering your hungry mouth again. You moan against Enzo’s cock when you feel Mattheo grip your hips as he slides his tip across your cunt and enters you from behind.

You clamp down against him and he moves slowly at first, letting yourself adjust to his length. Soon enough, he’s dripping with your arousal and he starts moving faster, the delicious friction building pressure at the base of your stomach. Upon impact, you find yourself choking against Enzo’s cock and your eyes water at the repeated contact. You remind yourself to breathe.

“Fuck, such a good slut,” Mattheo praises. “You’re taking us so well,” Enzo hums in approval. Desperate, filthy noises escape your lips in response, muffled by Enzo’s cock. The vibrations it creates against Enzo sends him over the edge as he releases a guttural moan and you relish the warm feeling of his salty cum in your mouth.

“You like how I taste, love?” Enzo asks, running his thumb across your swollen lip to push his spilled seed back to your mouth and you suck on it. At the same time Mattheo commands, “be a good girl and swallow his load.” You whimper, taking every last drop down your throat, too cock drunk to use your words.

Your focus returns to Mattheo as he takes on a vicious pace, fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You cry out, feeling yourself get closer and closer to your release. “That’s it,” Mattheo encourages, feeling the familiar way you clench around him just before you unravel. “Cum for daddy,” he commands, each word emphasized by a brutal thrust into your dripping pussy.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, seeing stars as you quiver against Mattheo’s cock. Wave after wave of pleasure overtakes you as he continues his persistent intoxicating thrusts.

It feels even better when he unloads in you. “Take it all baby, see how crazy you make me,” he coos into your ear in between filthy moans as he comes undone and you feel hot liquid drip down your leg. After taking a second to catch his breath, he wraps his arm around you, guiding you upright again.

You feel his hands behind your head as he unties the blindfold. While your eyes adjust back to the room and the starlit sky beyond the window, Mattheo brings his arms back around you, pulling you in for a hug. “You were so good,” he praises, burying his head in your shoulder. You reach back and massage his curls, enjoying how well you fit against each other.

You hum in pleasure as the events sink in. “You two spoil me too much.”

You smile at Enzo when he approaches you and kisses your lips playfully. He shakes his head in disbelief, “we’ve wasted so much time when we could have been doing this much longer.” Mattheo chuckles in agreement, his warm breath on your neck sending butterflies to your stomach.

He plants one final kiss on your cheek before getting up to dress himself. “And now I’m hungry, I’m going to grab some food,” he says nonchalantly, back to his usual self.

“Get some for us too,” Enzo adds.

He looks back with his signature smirk, “we’ll see.” You scoff at his response, knowing full well he will return with more food than any of you could eat.

As soon as Mattheo closes the door, you smirk at Enzo. “You know, that thing you said about lost time?” You ask, licking your lips.

“Yeah?” He replies with a wicked grin.

“We can always make up for it,” you grab Enzo’s arm, leading him towards the bed. “Come on, I still need to know how you feel inside me.”

✿ Masterlist

A/N: Why does my warning list get more and more unhinged the more smut I write?

My fics are usually around 1k words because I start losing my attention span after that. This is actually the longest I’ve done so far at 2.6k words, but I feel like I could’ve kept it going haha. Perhaps I’ll write another threes*me in the future. Stay tuned and stay feral, friends!

#lorenzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #lorenzo berkshire smut #mattheo riddle smut #lorenzo berkshire x you #mattheo riddle x you #enzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #lorenzo berkshire imagine #threes0me #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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