#this could technically work also in reverse

[fount-of-knowledge]

BEAST-YEAST EPISODE 8 SPOILERS

...okay so we can all agree that shadow milk has feelings for pure vanilla right?

i thought it was obvious since episode 7 that shadow milk doesn't hate pure vanilla. if he did and only cared about the soul jam, he would have killed pure vanilla or caused his death in some way. no, instead, he kept him to play around with him, and offered him a home in the spire, which is literally said to be unusual by candy apple and black sapphire (the two characters who are technically closest to him) so pure vanilla is a special case.

he's also notably happier interacting with pure vanilla than he is the other deceitful trio (based on the story & kingdom interactions)

to the point where this update gave us this very ugly but very elated sprite from shadow milk used exclusively when he's with pure vanilla

because apparently shadow milk has been bored all the time without pure vanilla!! he's been bored so much that black sapphire can TELL when he's bored, and keep in mind, shadow milk is someone who masks his true emotions ALL THE TIME

of course, shadow milk's goal was to watch pure vanilla fall to deceit—but that's very clearly rooted in his desire to finally have someone who understands him.

the moment pure vanilla accepts deceit, and vows to spend eternity with shadow milk, shadow milk is immediately excited and happy, and they merge souls. shadow milk accepts pure vanilla as a part of him just like how he wanted pure vanilla to accept him.

(note that he says "us" and not "me". he fully intends to work with pv as partners lol)

and when pure vanilla finally awakens and reveals it was all a trick, shadow milk is CRUSHED. he calls pure vanilla a traitor, because he thought pure vanilla would actually join his side.

all this reads like he really, really wanted pure vanilla on his side. again, all of the toying with him to make him fall to deceit, and telling pure vanilla he understands, he's been there, so it's time for pure vanilla to accept his fate.

but, of course shadow milk is an extremely contradictory person; even though he wanted pure vanilla to understand him, he didn't ACTUALLY want pure vanilla to understand him. because when pure vanilla feels his loneliness and calls him out on it, shadow milk can't admit it, to himself or to pure vanilla. he can't admit that he longs for pure vanilla's company.

and pure vanilla longs for his company too! he accepts shadow milk and his deceit, and wants shadow milk to accept him too. it's a complete reversal of what shadow milk wanted to happen.

pure vanilla stretches his hand out to shadow milk, a peace offering, an offer for them to develop a relationship other than that of enemies.

and shadow milk HESITATES.

HE FUCKING HESITATES. i can't understate how crazy it is that shadow milk, for a split second, could have actually considered pure vanilla's proposal. the guy that has been shown to be nothing but ruthless and without morals Hesitates when pure vanilla asks to be his friend.

BECAUSE HE FUCKING WANTS TO BE PURE VANILLA'S FRIEND

HE WANTS HIS COMPANY!!! HE WANTS TO PLAY GAMES WITH HIM!!! HE WANTS TO BE BY PURE VANILLA'S SIDE SO BADLY

BUT HE CAN'T EMBRACE TRUTH THE WAY PURE VANILLA EMBRACES DECEIT. HE CAN'T STOP LYING TO HIMSELF AND EVERYONE AROUND HIM THAT HE DOESN'T WANT THIS AND THAT HE'S NOT LONELY, THAT HE HAS EVERYTHING HE EVER WANTED, THAT HE'S HAPPY.

HE'S NOT HAPPY!!!!!

HE'S NOT HAPPY WITHOUT PURE VANILLA BY HIS SIDE AND HE'S JUST NOW REALIZING IT!!!! AND NOW HE HAS TO PUSH HIM AWAY INSTEAD OF BEING HONEST!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i don't like this game Tbh

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][tim's 19-20][oral (m! receiving)][handjob][servicedom!reader][cowgirl][reverse cowgirl][doggy style][msub][loss of virginity][strangers to lovers][ball sucking][nipple sucking][raw][drool][ass play]

Tim knows it's pretty pathetic to lose his virginity on a dating app but he also knows that tonight's the only night he'll have free time for a good long while.

Which is why he left the cave, barely with a thought in his mind other than to get laid. So much so that he forgets about the communication device stuffed into his ear, since he was, still technically, on duty.

But pussy first.

And besides, he needs to lose it before 20 otherwise he needs to legally change his name to Phil McCrack. The bet being courtesy of Jason, and Tim lets out a huff of a breath, readjusting his hoodie for what could only be the 8th time before he stares up at the door of your apartment.

Homemade dinner, a movie and sex.

That's all that's on the itinerary for tonight.

A jittery hand lifts and Tim pensively knocks on the pinewood. Anxious, excited, all the same but the preparedness seems to melt away when you pull open the door, hair pulled back and eyes staring up at him, and Tim swallows. Loud.

He's not prepared.

He isn't prepared at all.

You don't look like your picture.

You catfished him.

Your eyes are brighter in real life, he gets to watch the sweet smile take place on your lovely face, instead of just being limited to it being captured in pixels and he gets to see the way your head tilts at him, carefully giving him a once over before you step out of the way, letting him into the cozy apartment.

He's more nervous than he'd like to let on.

Tim wipes his palms on his sweatpants, shifting awkwardly on his feet before following you into the kitchen, watching intently as you slip on oven mitts, pulling out the cast iron tray from the oven and Tim stares at the large, homemade pizza.

Overflowing cheese, sweet red sauce peeking out along the crusts and pepperoni scattered so generously. And he lets out a shaky breath.

"It looks really good." Tim compliments softly, looking down at you with those pretty eyes as you give him a sweet smile, slicing the pizza into 8, setting 4 slices on his plate and 4 on yours.

"4 slices?" Tim questions softly and you simply nod your head.

"I can't take your virginity and send you home hungry. That's just a dick move."

Tim plants himself on the cushion next to you, sneakers discarded at the door, sock-covered feet tucked beneath him as he eats, occasionally glancing towards you but ultimately keeping his gaze on the TV.

He doesn't wanna ask about the ad about the lady in the corner of the screen, a Matilda that feels lonely.

"You're a lot more quiet than I'd think." You hum softly, your voice breaking the peaceful yet awkward silence, and you glance at Tim from the corner of your eye. He likes the way you watch him.

Like a bug under a microscope and he shifts in his seat, the fabric of his sweatpants pulling tight against some parts of his lean muscles as he makes himself more comfortable.

"I'm... Not really sure how this works. In all the things I've seen... It's usually just like, a meet and... Well, you know." Tim awkwardly shifts again, taking another bite of his pizza and his lashes flutter at the peppery cheese that fills his mouth and absentmindedly, you reach forward, wiping a smudge of cheese away from the corner of his mouth.

And Tim's heart rate skyrockets.

"Well, if you don't feel comfortable at the end of the night, we don't have to do anything. I'm not gonna force you." You reassure him sweetly, licking the cheese from your thumb before you continue eating, your attention on the cartoon in front of you. And Tim nods his head, muttering a soft 'okay' before he continues eating.

Tugging the edge of his hoodie down to hide his downright throbbing cock, and he tries to continue eating, chewing with the occasional glance at your expression.

Lips glistening with the sheen of fatty food, your cheeks puffed with the way you eat and tresses framing your face in the prettiest way. You've got such... Distinct features, perfect lips and the slope of your nose makes him groan inwardly at the thought of your nose tucked in the fleshy spot between the base of his cock and his full, almost swollen balls. The way you'd inhale his musk, dragging your tongue along the sensitive flesh.

And Tim coughs.

Desperate to clear away those thoughts and he looks back at his plate. He's only managed to put away 2 and a half slices, whereas your plate's empty.

And something about that, just makes his cock twitch, a thick bead of precum rolling down his base and he feels the way it forms a wet spot on his boxers.

"So, you said you're in college?" Tim hums, elbows braced on the countertop, his attention locked on yours as you indulge in his caffeine addiction as though you've done it a million times before. Practiced motions, a lowered gaze as you move around your kitchen with the comfort he's only ever seen Alfred hold in a kitchen but his gaze remains locked on your hands.

Dainty and manicured nails grasping a froggy mug, your nails tapping against the glazed ceramic as you stir, the muscles in your forearm flexing ever so slightly and Tim's surprised when he doesn't paint the inside of his boxers at the sight of your tongue running across your teeth when you place the mug in front of him.

"Yeah, I'm in college. I'm doing a literature degree." You state with a sweet hum, opening a cabinet and pulling out a bag of cookies, opening it up and placing it between the two of you.

Your kitchen isn't lit too brightly, downlights that have a dimmer switch that sets the room in a lovely, low light. Intimate and sweet, as you take a bite of a cookie, crumbs dotting your lips before you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip.

And the action is downright sinful.

Devious.

Malicious.

Nefarious.

The list goes on and on.

"You said you intern at Wayne Enterprises?" You hum softly, and Tim nods his head, taking a sip of his coffee and God, his cock's twitching as the taste burns his tongue in the best way possible.

Rich, earthy with the strongest aroma.

Tim's barely paying attention as you speak, his eyes locked on your pouty and perfect lips as you speak before he interjects.

"I'm ready for sex, please."

The desperate quiver in his voice, alongside the abruptness, makes you let out a snort of laughter. "Are you ready... Like... Biologically?" You question, your head tilting in that way that makes his mind melt and he nods sheepishly.

"Yeah. I've been ready for almost 2 hours."

"Shit, shit, shit." Tim's chest heaves, his long, inky lashes fluttering as he feels the way you stroke him so sweetly, your hand wrapped around his flared base, lips pressing sloppy kisses all along his glistening cock. Beads of precum drip down, pooling at his heavy sack and Tim's elegant digits card through your hair, undoing your hairtie and sliding the vibrant red elastic on his wrist, opting for playing with your hair instead.

And Tim's sure he's fucking dying when you're wrapping those soft, plush lips around his flushed tip, beads of translucent fluid filling your tongue and your hand continues to squeeze his base, his hips jerking and twitching. And Tim lets out a breath, moans slipping past his lips as his back arches.

"Fuck, that's so good..." Tim stutters, his plump, pink bottom lip between his teeth to stop the sounds.

And Tim's eyes widen, his head tossing back and he lets out that deep, loooong groan as his fingers fist your hair.

Your mouth leaves his cock, slobbers of saliva coating his tip before you fist it, your soft palms rolling over the sensitive flesh as you gently stroke his cock, the ball of your nose pressed against his cock as your tongue curls against the swell of his balls.

And Tim pushes your face deeper, forcing you to inhale that musky, smoky scent that makes you so dizzy, your cunt throbbing between your pressed together thighs. And he whimpers sheepishly.

"God, keep— keep doing that, please..."

Tim begs so sweetly, feeling the way you thumb at his slit, forcing out gooey beads of clear as you tilt your head, tongue curling around his sack and Tim feels his cock twitch. Before he whines, swatting at your hand before he urges you to pull away.

"I— I'm gonna come too quickly if—... If you keep doing that..." Tim's ears burn with embarassment, cock twitching and leaking copious amounts of precum and you let out a soft snort of laughter.

"I don't mind." You reassure softly, leaning upwards to press a sweet kiss against the curve of his jaw.

"It's your first time. You don't have to impress me."

Tim doesn't know how to answer that, simply shifting and scooting back, while you find purchase straddling one of his thighs, clothed cunt grinding against the thick muscle, hard and rigid beneath you as you gently stroke his cock.

Tim leans back on his palms, his head tipping back as you press soft, lingering kisses against the soft, milky skin of his neck. Your kisses are wet, sticky with his precum and your saliva, your hand moving to card through his obsidian strands, while the other traces along the bulging veins of his cock.

It's too much.

Too much.

Too much.

And Tim whines, nails digging into the sheets and creasing the pale green comforters beneath his palms as his hips jerk, jets of pearly cum making a mess of your hand and you smear the creaminess all around his cock.

Tim doesn't know what to do.

If he's supposed to pull your hand away, if he's supposed to cry, if sex is supposed to be the next step but tears are forming on his lash line, his face flushing and sweat forcing strands of his bangs to cling to his forehead.

And he whimpers so sweetly when you pull your hand away from him, pressing the sweetest kiss against his temple before pushing his hair out of his face.

"Where do you want me?" You ask him softly, tongue trailing along the shell of Tim's ear and he shivers, biting his bottom lip to stifle that shaky breath.

"On top... Please."

Tim's basically a pillow princess.

Hands bracketing your hips, fingers digging into the fat and his eyes remain locked on where your perfect pussy swallows his length, slick and squelchy sounds ringing out alongside the ambience of the Gotham city rain.

"Fuck, you're so tight."

Tim groans softly, brows knitting into a pinched frown and his eyes lift, brilliant and teary diamond blue eyes stare, gaze locked on the sight of your chest, bouncing in tandem with the your hips bounce. The fleshy globes of your ass repeatedly smack against his thighs, the warmth of your cunt fits him snugly and he whines underneath you.

You're warm. You're tight. You're so wet, and your slick drips down his veins with each grind of your hips.

"You're so fucking deep..." You breathe out with a moan, breathy voice and hazy eyes because you didn't expect him to stretch you out this good.

And Tim doesn't know what sort of sick, twisted mist blankets his brain, but the drool that trickles down his lips do nothing to cool him from the lusty heat that urges him to lean forward, his tongue dragging along one of your pert buds and the action pulls tingles from your brain. You lean forward, one hand moving to grab the headboard, nails leaving scratches along the painted wood as your hips grind and roll.

Tim's hips are weak as they thrust up into you, uncoordinated and sloppy, so weak as his entire mind is consumed with the action of his tongue swirling and teasing your nipples. He's drooling, slobbering all across your chest but the sloppiness of his motions just makes him more endearing.

"Ohhh, you're so fucking pretty." You croon to him gently, fingers scratching at his hair and tugging him closer to your chest.

The air between the two of you are charged with the sense of sexual tension being explored, alongside sticky and messy sex, and the smell of coffee on your mingled breaths. And Tim doesn't waste time pulling away from your oversensitive and abused nipples, before leaning forward, his tongue meeting yours in a heated kiss that would leave pornstars envious of the amateurish moments.

Hands paw at the fat of your ass and fingertips dig into whatever flesh they can find, and Tim's eyes roll back in his head when your hips roll, the tip of his cock buried in your gummy walls while his shaft is exposed to steamy air of your bedroom.

Tim feels the way his cock throbs, slick and precum mixing into a debauched cocktail that leaves his pelvis glistening in a sheen that matches your pretty cunt, pillowy pussy lips glossy with the mess.

"Fuck me harder— shit, fuck me harder." Tim whimpers and whines, his attention lowering to the way your hips slam down on his, and he feels like the air's being pulled out of his lungs. Especially with the way gummy walls pull him in, all the way to the depths of your cunny.

Tim can barely form a coherent thought when you turn around, your back facing him and he gets to watch that devious arch from up close and he gets to watch the fat of your ass bounce off his hips. And it's... Hypnotic.

It leaves him wondering if your ass is sentient and Tim's hands move to grip the plump cheeks, spreading them apart to watch the way you take him all the way. And his eyes lift just a bit, and he's staring that pretty, neat and puckered hole down. Before he bites his bottom lip, turning his attention towards you for the briefest moment but you're too cockdrunk to have a coherent thought in your head.

And he licks his thumb, covering the pudgy digit in saliva before he begins to circle the furled rim and he nearly screams at the way you clamp down on him.

And you're coming before you even fucking know it, bucking like a wild, desperate horse, your hips rolling like you're on a mechanical bull and Tim's finger slips past the threshold.

And he's fucking you.

He's found himself on his knees, your face pushed into the mattress and your back arched so sluttily as you let him rut into you mindlessly, one hand pressing down at the middle of your back, forcing your arch to deepen.

Your hair's a mess, tangled and lips are parted and letting out the sluttiest whines and praises.

And Tim's finally found something better than his top three wants in life:

Cracking a case.

Coffee.

Bruce's approval.

And he's finding that better thing in the most unorthodox of ways: rearranging the insides of a college girl two years older than him. Bullying his fat cock into your sloppy cunt as praises pour from your lips, your words so honeyed and your pussy so syrupy.

"Good boy."

"Fuck me harder."

"Just like that."

All push him towards the edge and Tim's hips become frantic, blunt nails digging into your hips as he nears his orgasm at a rate that makes his body shiver and shudder, skin prickling with goosebumps and droplets of sweat running down his muscles.

"Where do I—"

"Anywhere you want."

And Tim's hips stutter, cum filling your cunt to the brim and his hips twitch, using you to milk him empty before pulling out and he falls back against the headboard, hazy eyes watching the way pearly cum trickles down your folds, pooling between your knees.

"You know...." You pant softly. "I didn't know you had a hearing aid..."

You shift, moving to sit on your haunches before turning to face Tim, plopping down and your naked form melts against his, and his arms fold over you on instinct.

"What— what... do you mean?" He murmurs lazily and you reach up, tapping the device in his ear.

Shit.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

"Good job, Red Robin."

"Yeah, Tim." Jason snickers. "Keep doing a good job. Just. Like. That."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@allycat4458 🪻

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

@theamazkngskye 🍄

@titchx0 🦆

[tanadrin]

how I think different Star Trek: Voyager characters would fare in the Farscape universe

I've been watching a little of both Farscape and Voyager recently, two shows that while superficially conceptually similar (90s science fiction about lost travelers trying to get back to Earth), could not be more tonally different, and both of which I happen to enjoy quite a lot. Let's say that, instead of the spacetime anomaly that deposits protagonist John Crichton on the far side of the universe, it snatches up a random crew member from the good starship Voyager, throwing them back in time four hundred years, and dropping them in the kinky, moist, weirdly biological, slightly disreputable, and extremely Australian corner of the Milky Way where Farscape takes place. Who fares the best?

Neelix: no stranger to a hardscrabble existence and using his wits to survive, Neelix manages both to get along well with Moya's crew, and also to be of considerable use in various negotiations. His cooking remains immensely unpopular. Sadly his lack genre-savviness and his poor combat skills get him killed in season 1 episode 5, when the undercover Scorvian spy breaks his neck

Harry Kim: while a competent and well-trained Starfleet officer, Kim's lack of experience leads the crew to greatly underrate him at first. His competence in chaotic situations and his technical knowledge eventually come to impress the crew; sadly, his trusting nature and inability to bluff convincingly get him into trouble, and he's probably dead by season 1 episode 11, killed by the Vorcarian blood trackers.

Captain Janeway: her scientific and tactical knowledge is supremely useful to Moya's crew, but she clashes personally with many of its members. She is too bossy with Aeryn, deals badly with D'Argo's impulsiveness, and can't control Rygel; about the only crew members she does get along with are Zhaan, whose spirituality she respects, and Pilot, who shares her explorer's spirit. She sacrifices herself to destroy the Gammak base in season 1 episode 22, which is a pity, because she might've had the good sense to shoot Crais as soon as he came aboard (or at least keep him locked up).

Tuvok: Tuvok impresses D'Argo and Aeryn with his combat skills, is able to deal with Rygel (even if he privately despises him), and gets along very well with Zhaan, whose Delvian spirituality meshes well with his own Vulcan philosophy. His cautious look-before-you-leap nature is helpful to the crew, though D'Argo and Rygel fail to appreciate it properly. Brokers a deal with the breakaway Sebacean civilization encountered in season 2 episode 11, allowing the rest of Moya's crew to settle there; eventually manages to use their resources to reverse-engineer the anomaly that brought him there and returns home.

Kes: although she fares badly at first, her willingness to understand the other members of Moya's crew on their own terms helps her to get along with them. Cultivates her psychic abilities with Zhaan's help, but lacking Tuvok's more disciplined influence, her abilities are harder to control. She perishes along with everyone else when they cause her to accidentally blow a hole in the side of Moya.

B'Elanna: clashes outrageously with every single member of Moya's crew except Pilot. Nonetheless, her engineering skills prove extremely useful (though she complains bitterly about feeling more like a doctor than an engineer when it comes to working on Moya). Manages not only to retrofit the Zelbinian's defense screen to Moya, but to get it fully working, and to mount a working photon torpedo launcher to Aeryn's prowler. Tragically killed while fighting the Peacekeeper retrieval squad in season 3 episode 10.

Seven of Nine: Lacking Janeway's positive influence, she and Aeryn reinforce each other's worst instincts. Her arrogance wins her no friends, either; eventually, when Scorpius offers her a job with the Peacekeepers, she accepts, and with her Borg technology enhancing the Peacekeepers' ships and weapons, she becomes one of the most fearsome tyrants the Uncharted Territories has ever seen.

Tom Paris: Gets along surprisingly well with everyone. Has enough of the rogue in him to understand Rygel, befriends D'Argo, impresses Aeryn with his piloting skills, and respects Pilot as, well, a fellow pilot. Lacking the positive influence of Starfleet discipline, however, he indulges his rogue side a little too much, and eventually he and Chiana get killed trying to run a scam on a commerce planet, probably sometime in late season 2.

Chakotay: his flexible leadership style and down-to-earth nature are assets, but he doesn't get along with D'Argo (a pure hothead, without B'Elanna's technical skill) or Rygel. He fails to convincingly impersonate a Peacekeeper officer in season 1 episode 18 and is killed in the ensuing firefight.

The Doctor (with mobile emitter): Accidentally deactivated shortly after arrival; Rygel steals his mobile emitter and sells it for food shortly after; emitter is stripped for parts by a junk dealer who doesn't know what he has.

Seska: Betrays Moya to the Peacekeepers before the end of the pilot, manipulates her way into joining them, rises quickly through the ranks until she is killed in the inevitable Peacekeeper-Scarran confrontation some years later.

bonus round 1: other Star Trek characters

Captain Kirk: has a surprisingly Crichton-like career in the Farscape setting, being also a clever man of action, and very good at bluffing. Eventually leaves Moya, finding gainful employment in the space navy of the breakaway Sebacean civilization in the Uncharted Territories

Lieutenant Commander Data: reverse-engineers the anomaly that deposited him on Moya in about six weeks, files an extremely interesting report with Captain Picard.

Benjamin Sisko: develops an epic grudge against Bialar Crais; eventually takes command of Talyn and leads him in a one-man war against the Peacekeeper forces in the Uncharted Territories

Gul Dukat: gets into an intense, terrifyingly fucked-up relationship with Scorpius. Like, it's not even clear that they're fucking--it's just this rat's nest of codependent, narcissistic toxicity that seems to involve committing gratuitous war crimes as a kind of foreplay

bonus round 2: John Crichton

dropped by his wormhole into space next to the Caretaker's array not long after Voyager itself, John Crichton is quickly rescued by the Starfleet ship. though a man out of time, he does well among its crew: his scientific and technical disposition is very well-suited to assisting B'Elanna Torres in engineering, his fun-loving nature meshes well with the crew, and he is delighted that Tom Paris gets his pop culture references. With the help of advanced 24th century physics, he is eventually able to recreate the wormhole that deposited him in the future, and returns home in a matter of months.

[kyri45]

Dude your art is about to make me wanna draw shadowpeach MAAAAN, I wanna know all the hcs and thoughts you have on the two old monkeys and how your au came to be. THEY'RE SO CUTE!!

My headcanons? well funny youasked that cause-

I was yesterday years old when I found out Macaque is technically shorter than Wukong, and while this shatters my Short KingTM dreams, I've decided that this fact is true ONLY when both of them are completely unglamoured, because it's way funnier to think that one day they had a "Anything you can do, I can do better" phase, and Macaque took it for his height as well, and made his glamour taller.

[satsuha]

not to get a little sappy but i've never really been in an active ship community before tmhk (either my otp was too rare or i was late to the party) like i've never received art for my fics before nor have i ever made art for others' fics... i'm not really a big fic reader because my ships usually have very few fics available so it really feels mind blowing to me to be fed ship works sometimes o<-<

it's the first time i've owned a doujin for my otp!! and i'll have a fic collection soon!! (both in japanese btw 😔) i'm really grateful to anyone who's made tmhk works...

[waywardsalt]

shut the fuck up i’m thinking about link and linebeck being foils to each other

[cherry-hulu]

— PCD (Pre Concert Dick)

Synopsis: The boys had a problem that badly needed a solution. It was getting out of hand and silicones simply wont do the trick anymore. What was this problem you ask? Boners.

Warnings: Idol!Seungcheol-Mingyu-Wonwoo x staff!reader, threesome, double penetration, oral (m receiving), dirty talk

The adrenaline rushes through their veins as they prepare for the stage. Everything was ready and set in place, all that's needed were the stars of the show. But the roles were reversed and it was the artists who was experiencing the technical difficulties.

A few members, namely: Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Mingyu, were experiencing problems. They all had a boner and it was stopping them from wearing their pants properly. The situation was laughable really, the trio was getting teased left and right but they were left to do nothing but groan in pain as their pants hung low. Turns out exercise, sex talks, and adrenaline was not a good mix to have before a concert.

A strict boundary is usually set between the artist and the staff in order to avoid any complicated relationships. But would that still be in effect if the situation required an urgent solution?

And that brings you to now: all fours facing Seungcheol, eagerly licking, sucking, and slobbering all over his dick, while Wonwoo and Mingyu stand behind you opening your holes up.

This wasn't your first time, and it shows. From your first month of working with them as their stylist, you'd already been touchy with some of the members—in mutual consent and understanding of course— and have had a few secret escapades with them, sometimes even having more than one member at a time. Mingyu specially had the hots for you. Cocky and confident as ever, winking and flirting with you during his fittings.

Wonwoo has two of his long and slim fingers inside you scissoring you open, savouring the view of your cunt gaping at him covering his fingers in your slick, while Mingyu was slowly jerking himself off, tapping his dick on your butt while lightly teasing your other hole with his thumb.

"Gonna be a good girl and take us in all three of your holes, hm baby?" Mingyu teases gripping your butt cheeks, slapping it hard that it leaves a handprint of his hand. You choke on Seungcheol's dick in reply eyes rolling the back of your head as he presses hard down your throat, smirking as he takes grip of your neck tightening it when he feels a bulge.

You already felt so full, and it's only been one dick. Wonwoo removes his fingers from inside of you, stunned by the string of clear and smily pre cum stretch on his fingers as he pulls away. Wonwoo motions his fingers like a scissor infront of the celling light, a sly smirk on his face, "Haven't even fucked you yet and you're already this bad," he says.

Seungcheol abruptly pulls out of your throat watching strings of saliva drip down from his dick and on your tongue, "Fuck. She's dripping all over." He says before thrusting back in, a tight vice around your hair.

Mingyu gives your pussy a few taps using his dick before finally entering you. Usually he'd tease you first by only thrusting with his tip before finally slowly pushing in, but you didn't had the time for that.

Not even a spare time to ajdust as he bottoms out, Wonwoo quickly follows completely stretching you out. You were being stretched all over with three thick dicks inside of you. If it wasn't for Seungcheol's thick dick occupying your mouth, you'd definitely be a moaning mess by now.

Seungcheol's dick was thick and big, a thickness you could only imagine to have had existed, it gave him many advantages, but also disadvantages as he was forced to fuck your mouth rather than your cunt because it'd be impossible for him to join in without proper size training.

Wonwoo and Mingyu had almost the same size, only that Wonwoo was less thick than Mingyu. Which is why the mix of two combined had you rolling your eyes to thr back of your head. Reaching you deep and stretching you thick.

Mingyu slowly starting to rut into you, spitting in between their cocks providing more lube to allow the stretch. Wonwoo could feel his dick physically get harder and harder at the feeling of another dick rubbing against his, the warm hug of your cunt, and his tip resting near the entrace of your womb making him leak pre cum more.

He starts to move soon when he realizes the reality of the situation. This wasn't happening in the hotel room but rather in the venues dressing room. They had their stage outfits on, make-up done, and they were doing this to have their pants fit them. Shit. The concerts starting in 30 minutes. They haven't even had their pictures taken yet.

He adjusts his hips the youngers movement, thrusting in at the exit of the other. And together they create a perfect rhythm of movements. Sweat dripping down their faces. Seungcheol throwing his head back as his movement begins to quicken, becoming desperate even, before finally cumming inside your mouth. Leaks of his cum drip down the side of your mouth as you were forces to swallow every drip of him.

Seungcheol pulls out while you still had your mouth tight around him during the process sucking him off clean. "Fuuck," He groans holding a grip of your hair, forcing you to look up at him when he rests his dick on your cheeks. You bite your lips and roll your head backwards when the two repeatedly hit your g spot with the the tips of their dicks.

"Open your mouth baby, let us hear you." Seungcheol mutters, pulling your lip from your mouth, and as you open it, screams of their fans erupt from the venue snapping the three back into reality.

Mingyu groans gripping your waist and slapping your ass, "Dirty, dirty, slut, letting idols fuck her in the middle of work while fans wait for them outside." He says pounding deeply into you.

You're left to do nothing but whimper and gasp, taking the two of them behind you. Clenching your cunt at their words of praises and insults, "Doing so good for us babe, just a few more. C'mon, I know you can do it. Be the slut that you are." Wonwoo pants, fondling with your tits.

"I'm cumming," You barely get it out before collapsing on the floor, hands giving up as you clench and cream all over them. Liquid spurts from your hole as you squirt, making the duo groan and moan when they cum with you.

Mingyu goes first, throwing his head back as he lets out a guttural moan, still slowly thrusting inside of you with his hands massaging your hips. Wonwoo follows quickly after, stilling inside of you, letting his cum deposit in you before pressing down hard inside inducing a loud moan from you.

He bends down and leaves kisses all over your back before sitting back up and slapping your butt causing you to clench around them, making them groan in the process.

"Well that was quite a show." Seungcheol chuckles, wiping yout face down with a tissue and making you sip water from a bottle.

"Told you doggys the best." Mingyu says, pulling out while Wonwoo follows, gaping your cunt to watch a mix of cum drip down out of you. "I still prefer the show I recieve during cowgirl." Wonwoo replies, placing his face right before your cunt after Mingyu moves away from watching the show.

"Gonna clean you up now baby, m'kay?" Wonwoo says, kissing your cunt, before licking your flaps to start, and sucking your cunt using his whole mouth.

Safe to say that you were gonna get both a raise and a bonus.

[ozzgin]

Some more dick-related brain rot…😘

We take the self serve dick bar and use monsters for the monster hotel. We are going to have that full “continental breakfast.” So we have a forest entity cumming maple syrup, a Minotaur cumming milk/creme, a yeti who cums slushies, a slime who cums various jams depending on whatever fruit we feed it, and any more monsters who we can utilize ☺️

When you were talking about your rats, it made me think of some rat-hybrid monster where reader can steer him via. his dick, like a reverse Ratatouille scenario 🐀

Having a robot/android partner, I could use his dick as a literal joy stick when playing video games. Also, if I have to charge robot/android, do you think his dick acts like a giant extension cord I could just plug into the outlet in the wall? Also does that mean he technically “eats” with his dick? I assume when traveling with him internationally, I gotta get a lot of compatible adapters so he can get plugged in successfully🕹️

A Hydra monster would be kinda funny to have sex with, cause maybe if you cut its “head” down south, two more will grow back 🤔

I think that’s all for now. Tell your man that he is very much appreciated, and it’s nice he’s in this club of debauchery 😉

-👘

This amount of thirst and depravity is exactly what the monster guests would come up with just to have Reader employee touch them. 😭 Content: gender neutral reader, rancid NSFW!!! (more white sauce I’m afraid), monster smut

The latest fad your centaur manager has been into is food cooked with bodily fluids. This has had several implications, all of them regrettably involving you.

While the idea has been gripping at his mind like a great plague, he can't possibly ask you to just...let go over his breakfast toast. He can already see how exhausted you return after being used by the starved guests. They stuff you just enough for you to wonder if you'll survive it, then make sure to clean up their mess, politely aiding your speedy recovery, almost as if they weren't the cause of destruction to begin with. The manager has heard it one too many times that your nether regions are numb from all the monstrous tongues and appendages.

Maybe a change of scenery will help.

"Kitchen staff? I thought I'm supposed to clean the rooms", you inquire, somewhat confused by the sudden proposal.

"It's not quite...kitchen duties, per se. We need someone to help with the hotel's breakfast. We have a new experimental menu, though not enough...hands."

You should've expected it. How bad could it possibly be, you told yourself, pouring some orange juice for the seated guests? You had your first suspicions from the big, flashy sign now propped outside the room: service provided by our esteemed and loved human employee. You didn't need to ponder much on its meaning. Once inside, your task became painfully clear. You were to milk the guests for the required ingredients.

Having their way with you is a treat in itself, but seeing you struggle with your small, human hands, trying to figure them out? Priceless. Well, for them, anyways. Despite your protests, you have left your morning shifts with a ridiculous number of tips. Maybe it's the way you look up through your lashes as you explain: "Of course I know your weak spot. You're one of my- our regulars." Or maybe it's the way you tease your favorites, wondering out loud, with a grin, if you should have some of the generous release for your own lunch later.

Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. The centaur head manager recently made the sheepish suggestion of having you at the receiving end of this new service, trying his best to sound convincing, and hiding the fact it’s been his most ardent wish for the past couple of weeks. Maybe he will get his breakfast topping, after all.

[Monster Hotel] | [More Monsters]

[thehmn]

I’m intersex and I’m very hesitant to make this post because it could very quickly turn into a shitshow if I don’t word my thoughts correctly, but I’ve noticed a small, slowly growing trend and I think it’s important to talk about this before it gets out of hand.

I’ve seen a couple of posts with a lot of likes and reblogs where trans people accuse intersex people of being transphobic when they want hormonal treatment or surgery for themselves to look more female or male. It’s never about forced surgery on intersex children, but specifically about adult intersex people who want treatment for themselves. In these posts people see it as subconscious transphobia because they think this mindset is supporting the gender binary and harms trans and nonbinary people who technically get intersex bodies once they start to transition with hormones and surgeries. In their eyes not only are intersex people who use hormones/surgery to visually get out of the intersex sphere abandoning trans people, they’re also working agains nonbinary people who use intersex people as proof that there are more than two sexes which justify the existence of more than two genders.

The fact that there are a lot of similarities between trans and intersex people should be obvious. Both groups are saddled with bodies that doesn’t necessarily represent their gender and both can experience severe body dysmorphia, but at the end of the day the biggest difference is that the bodies of intersex people change on their own.

If you’re trans, imagine if you were assigned your preferred gender at birth and was perfectly content and happy in your gender experience when you suddenly hit puberty and start developing sex characteristics that goes against your gender and suddenly people around you start telling you you’re not actually the gender you think you are. Basically, imagine the way you felt before you came out/transitioned, except reversed.

I can for the life of me not understand why a trans person who thinks hormones and surgeries are acceptable for trans people can’t extend that mindset to intersex people.

It’s an ongoing debate among intersex people wether we belong in queer spaces and I can see both sides. A lot of intersex people consider themselves cishet people with a birth deformity who aren’t any more queer than people with dwarfism. Other intersex people feel more at home in queer spaces because there’s generally more acceptance of people who fall outside the norm.

But at the same time, in my experience, you get a lot of the same questions in both spaces. Both queer and cishet people often assume intersex means nonbinary, and I’ve been asked more than once how intersex people can call themselves cis or trans when their bodies fall outside the two majority sexes, forgetting that it’s all about what gender you were assigned at birth.

This leads to situations where you’ll meet trans men with functioning penises and trans women with natural breasts. A child might be born with something that looks like a vagina with a big clitoris and be assigned female but once they hit puberty the big clitoris becomes a small penis.

And even if they’re trans and start developing sex characteristics more in line with their true gender they might not be ready for it yet. As a teenager you become a target if you stand out so if you’re a trans girl living as a boy and you suddenly develop breasts that can be horrifying.

I personally experienced a much milder version of this. As a child I was perfectly content with people calling me a girl but I also felt like a different kind of girl. Not in a “not like the other girls” or tomboy way. More like a girl with something else in the mix. It was a very physical feeling because I was naturally stronger and more boyish looking than other girls and I didn’t really feel like I fit in with either boys or girls but at the same time it didn’t bother me when I was grouped in with the girls during school activities. I’d play around with makeup in my room, giving myself a beard and chest hair without wanting to be a man. It just felt like the right mix. Then I hit puberty for real and developed breasts and hips but also a full beard and chest hair. Despite all the times I had done it to myself I was mortified. This wasn’t something I could take off. I stood out wether I wanted to or not. Shaving left me with stubble. People looked. People commented on it. And my breasts didn’t grow super big and a lot of my body fat sat on my stomach like on a man, which meant if I didn’t wear a very flattering bra and feminine clothes I was sometimes mistaken for a chubby guy with manboobs. I was NOT ready for that. I was already struggling to fit in at a new school so this was like a social death sentence, not to mention I wasn’t sure about my own gender yet. It was something I should be allowed to work out on my own in peace when I was ready for it without people constantly asking what I, a child, had in my pants.

So hormones was a gift that allowed me to “transition” when I was ready for it at a later age. I’m off those hormones now and live as a “woman with something extra” like I always knew I was, but the things I had to go through as a child makes me very sympathetic to intersex people who does not feel that way and just want to be a man or woman with nothing extra because that’s their gender and like everyone else they want their gender and gender expression to align.

I don’t think it’s fair to expect people to be a martyr for other people. Most intersex people think trans rights are important but that doesn’t necessarily mean they belong in that debate. I know a lot of trans people who think women’s rights are important but feel no obligation to help the cause by sharing their experience of what it was like living as one gender and then another and how much respect and dignity they gained or lost after they transitioned.

So while I understand the natural instinct of wanting intersex people be part of a lager cause I also think it’s unfair to call intersex people who want to look like their preferred gender transphobic.

I really hope I made myself understood and that this isn’t an angry post. I just saw this “intersex people are transphobic for taking hormones” opinion with little to no understanding of the intersex experience and I’m hoping to shed a bit of light on that ❤️

[tgcg]

ms paint. you know her. u used her age 8 to make loads of rainbow ovals all over the canvas and then scramble it with selection tool. now u will know her true powers with my handyrandy tips under the readmore. some will be pretty basic and others are very special.

this post has 8 cool trix to learn for you. enjoy and i may do another in the future if i remember/learn more stuff

some of it might be common knowledge. but its got some deep cuts. all tips have gifs to show process easily.

🙂 enjoy and i hope this encourages you to fuck around in mspaint more

soundtrack for this post (loop it while you learn for advanced learning experience)

TIP 1) the right click trick

left and right mouse click correspond to col1 and col2 respectively, which u can see in the top bar. this applies to all brushes and the fill tool like above. when using shapes col2 will be the fill colour (if you have solid fill selected). right clicking with shape maker will reverse the colours use on the shape.

TIP 2) right click eraser

this one is extremely helpful for lineart or add shading. the eraser always uses col2. so your eraser can technically be any colour. but here's where you get powers: right clicking with eraser will only erase onto col1, with col2.

TIP 3) transparent selection change a guy destination

the beloved transparent selection tool works based on what is selected as col2. so long as you have the correct colour as col2 you can make any image transparent and put it on top of anything else. and yes this works with photo bg as you can see.

TIP 4) the gradience

this one is a little more complex. you want to start off with any canvas size, and make as many diagonal coloured bands as you want. (protip: holding down shift makes a perfectly diagonal line with line tool)

then you need to resize the canvas to a width of 1px (make sure you resize by pixels, and do not maintain aspect ratio). then resize again back to its original width (or a different width i cant stop you). you will have your lovely gradience.

TIP 5) superimposter

so. you got a cool gradient and wanna put a guy on it. heres what i do:

i open a 2nd mspaint with same canvas size and draw whatever i want on there. i then pick a completely unrelated colour to my entire piece, and set that as the bg. you could use white, pink, geen, whatever you want as long as it doesnt appear somewhere else in ur drawing. copy the guy.

go back to your gradient tab. ensure that col2 is set as that bg colour you picked (lilac for me). have "transparent selection" enabled. paste your guy in. cue fanfare

TIP 6) advanced superimposter

the great thing about this method is u can put multiple gradients in multiple areas of the image. this is where it gets all japanese printmaking type of shit. ukiyo-esque

all you need to do is make another canvas with a new gradient, ensure col2 is set as the colour you want to replace, then paste your original piece onto the new gradient. now my guy has a soft fade. you can do this as much as you want. (you could even make a canvas with a texture or photo and paste your drawing onto there)

TIP 7) "sketch layer"

so as you now know, col2 is what is removed when you click "transparent selection". which means you can also remove any instance of a colour from ur drawing. which means you can have a unique colour for sketch layer and remove it from the drawing later. i admittedly dont do this but it is a great trick to have.

now combine this with lowering your dpi for smoother lines. may seem obvious but it helps. its like a free stabiliser whenever u want.

TIP 8) rainbow art

now this is where you can get dizzee rascal "bonkers". check out my small and shitty rainbow trick. you can select anything and hold down shift, then drag with left mouse, to turn that selection into its own brush. i even did it with a guy. and you can of course do this with a photo as well.

🙂well that it for now. hope you liked it thanks for reading now back to your regularly scheduled tgcg programming

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"Let's go for a drive."

Preview: How the LNDS boys drive you around.

SYLUS

Sylus is the type of man who will always have time---even if he does not, he will make time for it--- to come and pick you up. The rumbling sound of a V12 is hard to miss and you could always pick up the sound of it from a street or two away. His matte black Pagani would always catch the eye of passerbys, including the driver. On days when he would be earlier than usual, he would be perched against the side of his car, representing and upholding the image of his own car; expensive, exquisite and tasteful. Given his background as the leader of the N109 zone, it is certainly surprising that this guy does not own a cigar or else he would have fully unlocked the potential of being a mafia boss.

Of course, Sylus entertains the idea that you had previously pitched to him, but he does not back down without a teasing statement. "I think I will consider about your cigar habit if you admit that I do not have a drinking problem." Seeing you crossed your arms in defiance, he smirked and closed the door behind you, enclosing you in the small space of the supercar of his. 190cm in a sports car's bucket seat is outrightly awkward, he seemed like he could barely fit within the space of the car but it still is spacious enough for him to maneuver around.

His driving is mean, just like his attitude to everyone else and you were nearly convinced that he may secretly hate everyone else other than you. But does that make you dislike him? Of course not. If any so, it only makes you feel even more special than ever. Sylus also knows the way you stare at him when he drives. The way your eyes would skim past his arms whenever he turns the steering wheel. If he is wearing anything with long sleeves, he would push or roll up the sleeves to reveal the thick veins that lines his arms. "Kitten, if you were to continue staring at me with those eyes, I may have to pull over."

ZAYNE

Picking you up in his Audi has always been his habit, be it you like it or not. He does not enjoy the idea of you driving him around. Partially because he has a more dominant mindset, but he also finds joy in being the one making plans whilst having you to tag along. At work, his patient's care is his utmost importance, but off of work, your interests are one of his top priorities, and he is more of the 'talk less, do more' type. Given a time, the doctor is never late even when he is off of work and you do not mind him being tardy at all. But it was distasteful to this man. "If I were to be tardy as you had suggested, my death count for my patients would be through the roof at this point."

Chuckling lightly in response, you got in, with Zayne closing the door behind you and strutted towards the driver's side. Once he had got in, he would put on his seatbelt before turning over to check on your seatbelt. A man attentive even to the fine details, yes he is. His driving is smooth, but nowhere slow. He keeps an average 120km/h on the road, always at the fastest lanes. However, if a car were to catch up behind him, he would be attentive enough to signal to the other lane and allowing the car to pass without making much of a fuss before he heads back to the fast lane and continues his driving.

Zayne takes pride in his parking skills, his precision mixed with the cameras that came equipped with his car would technically make him invincible. He usually enjoys reverse parking, perhaps a force of habit whilst being at hospital and with him being bound to OSHA requirements of needing to park in a reverse form. He stares in between the display and the side mirrors till the engine stilled to a pause. When praised on his reverse parking skills, the doctor elicited a small smile, finding joy in your heartfelt comment. "I park like this almost everyday, if you would like me to guide you, I would be more than happy to."

RAFAYEL

"How can I let you drive?" Rafayel easily fishes his car key out of your grip, a cheeky smile on his features. "Especially since you had been coming over so frequently just to accompany me?" He struts over back to the bowl of car keys and popped the car key you had previously picked. Seeing your frown on your face, his smile widened, alongside his will to tease you. "We are going out on a dinner date tonight, of course I will be going for a nicer car!" Then he takes out an oblong shaped key and guides you towards his garage. It is no stranger that Rafayel owns a lot of sports cars, but you must say that it was your first time being in his Ferrari KC23. It was also explained that he got this gift from Ferrari itself, one of the most picky car brands in the world. So you figured he could have done something that had pleased the eyes of the Ferrari people.

During the drive to the restaurant, his hand never left yours, constantly holding onto your smaller hand, his thumb smoothing over the skin of the back of your hand every once in a while. The mix of jazzy tunes and his smooth driving makes car rides with him extremely comfortable. Maybe that also explains why Thomas would constantly grumble about him being late, given that he only drives at a maximum of 120km/h only if he needs to, although quite a contradiction to the power his car holds. When you asked him about why is he driving so slow, his reply was nonchalant but does not lack sincerity. "I do not find the need to rush to somewhere just to jeopardise the safety of the love of my life. People can and will wait if they want to." Him saying that makes your heart warm, knowing that your safety is his utmost priority.

Rafayel however, does have some road rage at certain times. This only involves when he is in a rush to somewhere, especially if it means you would be at the other end waiting for him. This is when he would actually put his car to it's good use. Signals would not be his best friend when he is driving, more like racing through traffic like a mad man. Well, to put it in other terms, he is a mad man in love and nothing would stop him from reaching you as soon as possible.

XAVIER

Xavier is not really a fan of driving, hence compared to the rest of the boys, his urge to be in a metal box, moving transport is not as luxurious nor eye-catching. He only drives only when he has to go outstation for his hunter work and if you happen to be tagging along with him. Otherwise, Xavier takes more pleasure in going around with his bike as it saves him time and being able to get away from traffic jams is a plus point for him. So today it comes another day where he has to travel further for his job and you are tasked to be his partner hence he decided to settle with the car for travels. Opening the car door of his BYD Atto 3 for you, he makes sure that you are all buckled up before he closes the door on you.

After unplugging the charger, he is pretty much ready to go. "You ready for our next destination?" He asked you, his eyes catching you for a brief moment before he looks back at the screen to set the next destination. Xavier's driving is not complete as long as there are snacks accompanying him throughout the car ride. Xavier is also the type to switch drivers only if his sleep is getting through to him and affecting his driving skills. Overall, Xavier himself is a slow driver, he does not preach in the idea of going pedal to the metal just to reach a destination earlier than promised. His average speed ranges around 80km/h to 100km/h and his hands never leave the steering wheel.

"I need to take a break, more like a snack break is what we need." If it ever comes to travelling great distance, he will always take breaks for every hour of the drive, either it would be a toilet break or snack break, either one works for him. Good thing about him is that, even if you said that you are not in the mood for any snacks, he would ought to get you extra snacks because he knew the way of a girl's mind, or more specifically, based on his experiences, whenever you said no it would certainly be a regret halfway down the road. He learned from his past experiences and hence would do whatever he can to cater to your comfort throughout the journey.

[thaltro]

Will your nightwatch au have any reimagining of how determination works, especially when it’s mixed with positivity, negativity, or void? Does it invert negativity/positivity by creating hope in despair and discontentment in happiness? Is it a force that resists the will of the creators/narrative (pro free will) or enforces it (anti free will)? If determination is amplified by the presence of negativity in order to ensure survival, can a determined character with negativity-based powers (not to assume what other ship kids may appear in the au or anything) with enough negativity going through their system doom spiral until the determination is tearing them apart at the seams?

(I have uh, been thinking about the logistics of this since mid 2018 don’t mind me)

Yes kinda - I’ll explain rn I medicalize a lot of concepts. I’ll also explain it inside the comic but here’s some minor stuff:

The main medical condition I focus on is “corruption”

In nightwatch, monsters bodies are incredibly vulnerable to foreign code. The most common example of this is getting sick, a monster absorbs a small viral bit of code, their body is overwhelmed and get symptoms of sickness, and eventually their body deals with the minor illness and everything is fine. But sometimes code changes can be too potent for a monster, creating chronic and sometimes terminal syndromes. This is what is called corruption.

Here are the three known corruptions (they are umbrella diagnoses)

Substance corruption:

substance corruption is the most common, (think nightmare and geno)

A potent substance that shouldn’t be within a monster gets in a monster and overwhelms their code permanently. This is a big category holding many different syndromes but the one thing in common is their physical form literally breaking down.

Some examples could be monsters having human soul substance injected into them, wether it be kindness or determination their bodies will be corroded slowly from the overwhelming code substance. Nightmare eating the apples count too, it’s code being too potent and quickly destroying his entire body.

This can be slowed down with treatment, reversion therapy is one but substance blockers are an alternative.

Void corruption:

Void corruption is rare, (think error, blue error, or fatal error)

When a entity is exposed to the Voids for too long, they may go through a slow process of void corruption. starting with sickness, then symptoms of confusion and amnesia, and lastly physical changes. The most identifiable trait is their final physical appearance, changes in color, additional limbs, open code numbers on anatomy, and glitching.

Their code gets randomized, new traits are gained and old traits are lost. Chronic pain, paranoia, hallucinations, delusional obsessions, and emotional instability are all caused by the distortion of their mind (and isolation of the void)

Treatment is difficult as a majority of patients show hostility to medical intervention. However reversion therapy is theorized to be affective for treating the patients.

Passive corruption:

Passive corruption is less common then substance but more common then void (think cross and killer)

When a conscious entity purposely changes another’s code. The victim goes through periods where they loose autonomy to the entity’s influence. The symptoms vary because it’s up to the foreign entity’s desire but it’s possible to see a change in voice, physical appearance, mental stability, and magical capabilities within the victim. The most well known example in the fandom is overwriting someone, but killer being controlled and reworked by the player is also passive corruption.

Reversion therapy and substance blockers work affectively as treatment.

Additional notes:

A monster can inhibit more then one category. For example, killer while gaining the substance of determination through passive corruption, would technically have both substance corruption and passive corruption.

This is a huge concept in nightwatch. There’s many additional elements like the specific affects of human soul substance, but i fear that would be too much of a rant from me.

Human traits are a medical thing in nightwatch, monsters cannot naturally have human substance, but can gain it through corruption. It’s not a trait of personality or belief or emotion.

It would be difficult to quantify and explain how human traits connect with feelings even within humans themselves, all systems I’ve seen do that don’t really make sense to me (cough glitchtale) so I made it a medical thingy. I’m not too sure if this is the answer you wanted but I tried.

[elbiotipo]

your post about potatoes in fantasy worlds made me base my primary fantasy continent off sudamérica so i could use fantasy versions of andean and amazonian fauna/flora. I'm still trying to figure out how to change the geography enough to have the big desert i want in the right area(andes get an offshoot that encircles a rain shadow desert in the central north is the best idea i have) but actually being forced to consider how native wildlife works and needing to create trade routes if i wanted imported crops was fun. i was also trying to figure out why the southern hemisphere has more hot climates than the north and something said it's because the south on earth has less landmass so i think having the northern hemisphere above it be mostly tropical works if I have mostly archipelagos? also every time i see a european based fantasy have potatoes or tomatoes i shake my head and scowl.

The reason why the Southern Hemisphere seems to have more hot climates is indeed simply because the continental parts don't spread that far South to actually cold southern latitudes. The only place that really sticks that far south to have a truly cold climate is the Patagonia. And of course, Antarctica, which by coinicidence, basically surrounds the South Pole.

Here is a map of "temperate" latitudes, or rather, latitudes between the tropics and the polar circles (as someone who lives here, or indeed an Australian can tell you, many places there are not "temperate" at all but more on that below). What is important here is that the southern hemisphere has less places closer to the pole, except, again, Antarctica, while the northern hemisphere has lots of land near the poles. This is why we don't have our equivalents of say, Siberia, for example. The closest thing is again, Patagonia. Honestly an underused place for worldbuilding, with the steppe, the glaciers, the temperate rainforests, and the recently extinct megafauna, but I digress.

You could in fact have a tropical "north" if you keep most of the northern hemisphere's landmasses near the equator (here I'm picturing some kind of big Indonesia or Caribbean, an area where tectonic plates collide and there's lots of volcanic islands and lands), and you could place a big continent in the South to make it a cold South. Interesting reversal on the cold North/warm South of most settings.

This would bring some interesting effects, though. Placing a big landmass on any pole (not a small one like Antarctica) would lead to glaciation, as land is "colder" or rather less moderated by ocean (more on that later) and glaciers grow, and glaciers and arid land have greater albedo, reflectivity, that is, and so they reflect more sunlight, thus those place become colder, and the glaciers keep growing, and so on, until there is an ice-age. I don't have the link where I read it with me, but I recall that continents shifting to polar latitudes might have triggered ice-ages in Earth's past.

Deserts are very tricky to place. The standard worldbuilding recommendation is that the interior of the continents are drier as you get away from the sea, and that mountain chains and high terrain serves as rainshadows that stop rain from the sea. However, there is a lot more to it. A LOT more.

You can find deserts even next to oceans, in the so-called "horse latitudes", the meeting points of the Hadley Cells that circulate air from the Equator to the subtropics and beyond. The details are a bit technical, but what this means basically is that they create jet streams of circulating air at 30° South and North, keeping the climate sunny, warm and dry. This is indeed where many of the world's coastal deserts are: Atacama, Kalahari, and of course, Australia.

Meanwhile, in the equatorial zone, the "trade winds" (because they have regular wind patterns that have historical formed major sea trade routes, worldbuilding hint!) converge in the Equator, forming rainy areas... but not quite that simple.

The Intertropical Convergence Zone, where these winds meet, ocsilates during the year, creating monsoons, but as always, there are lots of factors involved. In particular, given our real life scenario of rapid climate change and global warming, a warmer temperature means more intense ocsilations. This makes monsoon events sharper (more droughts and floods in those regions) and more strong La Niña/El Niño events, which are their own thing, influenced by the Pacific which is a huge factor in global climate.

And this brings me to ocean currents. Usually, being close to the ocean moderates the climate, making it more rainy and warm, or at least stable. However, if the surrounding sea is cool, it means less evaporation and less rainfall, especially if it's influenced by cool polar currents (this is the case of eastern Patagonia, for example, with the cold Malvinas Current). The opposite is the case in, for example, Europe, where the warm gulf stream moderates climate, making it warmer and rainer compared to the same latitudes in the US and Canada. I'll admit I'm not very well informed on how ocean currents work, but the depth and salinity of the ocean have much to do with it. What basically happens is that dense salty water sinks and and this works as a "conveyor belt" for warm less dense surface water to flow over it and over great distances. These currents are slow, but since the ocean is so massive, they move extensive amounts of heat across the world. I will admit defeat here and just say I don't wholly understand how it works, but I can tell you this; if your world has a less salty ocean, your currents will be less strong, which means that the differences of temperature between the poles and the tropics will be sharper as there are no strong currents to overall moderate temperature. If this is all too complex for you as it is to me, the quick cheat is just looking at this map: warm water flows from the equator, and cold water flows from the poles, and they create "gyres" around the oceans and the Equator, and cold currents contribute to colder and drier climates (note the Canary, Benguela and Peru currents, the Malvinas current is not shown for some reason...)

Did I forget something? Oh, yes. A colder climate of course, means less rainfall, because there is less evaporation and there is much water "trapped" in glaciers and snow. Which seems to be the case during the last ice ages. Rainforests and forests in general retreated as deserts expanded. In fact, the few forests that remained served as refugiums for species that only expanded again once the ice age was over. Some especulate that this might meant a 'weakening' of megafauna, as they were trapped in those refuges with lots of interbreeding and weakened populations when humans arrived on the scene. Here is a very interesting map:

Now, there are some contradictions here and there, some researchers have said that the climate wasn't that dry and while I'm not an expert I tend to agree, many parts that are "extreme desert" there might be scrubland instead. But overall, it seems that colder times bring drier times too.

I'm still not done, but I'm almost done! According to the Biotic Pump theory, forests might also influence the climate and rainfall in a big way, basically, evapotranspiration (plants sweat, a lot, 90% of water through a plant evaporates to the atmosphere) in forests might actually create by itself the rainy environment where forests thrive, so for example, the Amazon is a rainforest BECAUSE of the forest there. I think with the increasing droughts here in South America we're seeing that theory proven in practice, as deforestation of the Mata Atlantica, the Chaco and the Amazon is causing less rainfall in the centre of the continent. Forests and plants also have a cooling effect, since they fix carbon dioxide, and also a bit of a warming effect, since they have darker albedo and so absorb more sunlight. I'm going to be very lazy and instead of reading a thousand papers say that they overall have a "moderating" effect.

Well, I could go on and on but I think I've already written way too much, so I'll leave you this to munch on a bit. It might seem like a lot, but when in doubt, you can always "eyeball" it by comparing real regions of Earth, and it will help you to create more interesting world than the omnipresent "spring-summer-fall-winter" temperate standard in so many settings.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask! Oh, and also, if you found this helpful or interesting, I would appreciate a tip to my ko-fi!

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 7: TOO YOUNG TO GROW WINGS

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He needed to learn how to stop being so goddamn obsessive. He’d work on it later, maybe. He’d try not to speak curses into existence from the way he felt about you.

At the moment, he wants to make this good for you. Something like love.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, drunk sex, face sitting, blowjobs, cum eating (lol) lots and LOTS of angst, gore, blood, graphic descriptions of injuries, bullying, satoru being......... himself

ੈ✩ wc: 8.8k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wasnt gonna post this but then i was like well. i start a new job on monday so who knows if i'll be able to keep up the weekly update thing. this is also prob my fav chapter so i couldn't hold back OOPS enjoy the yaoi btw <3 title from angel by omar apollo

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

April, 2009

Jujutsu Technical College looks lovely in the springtime—the golden light hits the room in a specific way that makes your body warm. You’re calm, nearly dozing off until three people barge into the classroom, taking up as much space as they can. When you open your eyes, you see Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko smiling at you as they take their seats.

The boys had convinced you to attend (with the help of Shoko) after informing you there was a generous stipend included with your education. Despite the scholarship you’d gotten from the college you’d meant to attend, they had easily persuaded you. You hadn’t had friends you were so close with before, after all.

“Suguru. Switch with her.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it. I want her to sit next to me.”

You lift your head, realizing that Satoru is talking about you. Suguru laughs nonchalantly and stands up to switch with you, and you move to replace him when you notice Satoru’s baby blues searing into your skin. He grins at you brightly as you roll your eyes.

It’s been like this for weeks – Satoru possessing you, claiming you, even though you never ask for it. Truthfully, it pools your stomach with ardor. You’ve never felt as wanted as you do when you were within a close radius of him. 

It dwindles eventually when you realize that the boys’ strength is so far beyond yours. In combat, they’re flawless, beautiful in their movements as they spar. You’re happier to watch than join—Shoko thinks the same, often rolling her eyes every time the two of you are assigned to practice hauling cursed energy for the sake of fighting. It’s nice when you can get her alone, studying healing techniques and watching her reversed curse technique grow.

Sometimes, you don’t even know why you’re here. Shoko is talented and you aren’t. You’re useful enough for superficial wounds, but you can’t do a reversed cursed technique. You doubt you could even heal something of a higher caliber than what you’re used to. You fear the prospect of this revelation on a mission that you know Yaga will eventually send you on. 

“Do they ever fight over you?” Shoko asks over a cigarette.

“Wh-what?”

“You know,” she drawls, smiling. “Satoru’s such a brat. Suguru is more open when you’re around. They’ve gotta be possessive, right?”

You shrug. You don’t know the extent of what she knows, but you can assume from the boys’ behavior that it was written all over their faces. Satoru’s hand on your waist, Suguru’s point to tower over you. Unspoken proximity wars between them with you in the middle. 

“I don’t know about that. They’re overprotective for sure,” you admit, taking a slow drag of her cigarette when she offers. 

“Twigs! Not you, too!” Satoru bellows. “Don’t give my girl your cancer sticks, Ieiri!”

Shoko laughs at that, grinning with the cigarette in between her teeth as you fold your hands into your lap.

My girl.

Satoru hovers over you and holds out his hands. Curiously, you take it, which you regret immediately when he pulls your body and hauls you over his shoulder. You thrash a bit as he laughs until you’re stumbling onto the grass. When Suguru throws a staff in your direction, you catch it reflexively. 

“Ready?” 

You roll your eyes. You’d gotten better at sparring, though you still choose to hang back and concern yourself with areas of Shoko’s expertise. She had become a mentor to you despite being a peer. Meanwhile, the boys had been trying to get you to practice combat, thinking you would do well with a cursed weapon.

You remember the first time you had tried to fight, watching Satoru and Suguru wrestle in the grass shortly after. Their raspy grunts, the skin of their waists underneath ridden-up shirts. The memory makes you flush.

“Yes,” you sigh.

You focus on Satoru’s eyes, saturated like a lightning strike. You were rather well-versed in the language of his body – you think that your intuition often matched Satoru’s rather equally. He was still much taller and larger than you, but you exceeded in your efforts to dodge. He didn’t often bother with hand-to-hand combat much anyway, much more focused on perfecting his inherent techniques.

You gasp when he decides to close the distance between you. The touch of his fingers on your skin is a jolt to the senses as his legs sweep you when you’re too occupied with dodging. You hit the ground with a thud, groaning.

“Sorry, babe,” he chuckles, leaning down to take your hand. When he does, you pull him backward so that he tumbles.

“Hey!”

“Payback,” you shrug. You maintain a fighting stance once again, staff in hand. 

Suguru often took you more seriously, offering to teach you martial arts when Satoru was off on solo missions. You breathe heavily as Satoru takes his first swing, which you dodge by a hair. 

Focused, you move with the grace of a ballet dancer, halting his movements with your staff the way Suguru had taught you. When you kick a leg high in the air, Satoru catches you by the ankle just for you to fall again. This time, you’re sure you’re bruised. 

“There’s still time for you to give up,” he teases. 

You groan in irritation, rising to your feet and walking closer to him. He smiles, enjoying seeing you pissed off and breathing so hard. He’s so wrapped up in looking at you that his senses are hit with whiplash – your fist gets through his Infinity easily and socks him square on the jaw.

“You little–”

“Why didn’t you have your Infinity on?” you exasperate, but he’s already pushing you to the ground and struggling with you the way you used to when you were children.

“I’m soooo gonna get you for that–”

You end up kicking him again, this time in the ribs as he groans. When you pin his wrists above his head, he merely stares at you with wild eyes and heaving breaths. His face is red and cherubic, and when he squirms, you squeeze his waist in between your thighs.

You lean down close to his face, your breath tickling his ear.

“I win,” you whisper. You flick him on the forehead and he flinches. You wonder again why he’s letting you touch him like this. 

“Letting you pin me down isn’t me letting you win, sweetheart,” he rasps lowly, only for you to hear. He rolls his hips slightly and it makes your eyes widen, much to his satisfaction. You frown and crawl away from him just in time to hear Shoko beckoning you.

“Lab time!” she calls after you. Without a second look at Satoru, you follow her inside.

Satoru is lying on Suguru’s stomach, frowning because it isn’t as soft as yours. 

He’s also without entertainment since Suguru has been hogging his DS for the better part of an hour, which Satoru had only let him do because he claimed he wanted to take a nap. But, as per usual, he can’t sleep. He’s still roused from sparring with you, slightly sweaty still from the warmth and the mustiness of the dorm room, and his cock is getting hard again just from thinking about you on top of him. 

“Fuck,” Suguru swears under his breath, caught up in a game of Pokemon Emerald.

Satoru lifts his head to scoot his body higher, chin resting on Suguru’s forearm to peek at his progress. 

“You’re doing terribly.”

“I know that, thanks,” Suguru groans. “I have like, two backup Pokemon left and they’re both level 30.”

“Do you use the same technique with your curses?” Satoru teases. Suguru makes another agitated noise again in response.

“You should’ve brought your Game Cube from home.”

Satoru shrugs, sighing as he sits up. He snatches his DS out of Suguru’s hands, interrupting the boy’s protest with a wet kiss to the mouth. Suguru kisses back immediately, tongue peeking into Satoru’s mouth before he pulls away.

“You haven’t kissed me in months,” he chuckles. Satoru shrugs. 

“Maybe you haven’t kissed me in months.”

“I would’ve thought you’d count it as cheating.”

Satoru is quiet for a moment, rubbing Suguru’s jawline with his fingers gently. He’s been rather gluttonous lately, and he thinks Suguru is starting to catch on. He’s been clingier to the both of you, obnoxiously so, acting more of a nuisance to you specifically for the sake of attention. His heart is aflame whenever he sees you interact with Suguru in ways that are both good and bad, but he doesn’t prefer to dwell on it for very long before he nearly forces you to give him attention.

“Having withdrawals?”

“Huh?”

“She’ll be back soon,” Suguru laughs cruelly. “Whenever she’s gone for a bit, you act like you’re fucking dying.”

“No, I don’t,” Satoru frowns. But he knows he’s lying.

“Don’t mope. C’mere.”

Suguru sighs, seemingly out of pity. He grabs Satoru by the face and sticks his tongue in his mouth – a rough kiss out of spite, out of unbridled passion. He’d dreamt about Satoru and you for weeks, always sneaking glances. 

He’d considered taking both of you months before when you and Satoru and Shoko threw him an impromptu surprise birthday party despite his refusal. He had seen you tipsy, squirming in Satoru’s lap while Utahime set up karaoke on the television, and decided he’d let you come to him when you wanted to. You were still a shy thing even after New Year’s, never asking again for his touch.

Satoru groans, palming his dick over his slacks as he leans back. He could feel his cock leaking in his boxers already just from the roughness of Suguru’s knuckles grazing his skin. There was a manic buzz in his head, thrilled by the slight power imbalance he was allowing. 

Suguru hadn’t touched him since before he started seeing you, and even then, it was mostly rudimentary teenage lust. Jerking off to magazines together. Seeing how much they could take in their mouths before gagging like it was a competition.

“Fuck,” Satoru grunts, feeling Suguru’s tongue on his clavicle.

“You thinking about her?”

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Suguru chuckles darkly, biting harder at the bone. “She was so hot today. I taught her those moves, y’know.”

Satoru makes a mumbled nose, eyes fluttering shut as Suguru palms him. He unbuttons his slacks to reveal the snowy trail of hair above his pubic bone, Satoru’s cock flushed and weeping as Suguru holds it. 

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Use your mouth,” Satoru pants. He knots a fist in Suguru’s dark hair. “Want it like this.”

He hisses when he feels Suguru’s mouth. His jaw slackens at the feeling, gasping for air when Suguru hollows his cheeks to suck tightly. Satoru shoves him down further.

His body feels tight when Suguru motions a finger towards his hole, pausing to spit on his fingers beforehand. With two fingers stretching him open, Satoru pants and gasps. His thighs twitch, hips rolling upward into Suguru’s mouth like it was a cunt.

Your face flashes in Satoru’s mind and it makes his insides careen. Brain like pulped fruit. He opens his eyes to see Suguru’s, narrowed and golden and taunting. It’s similar to the way you look at him, sometimes.

The fist in Suguru’s hair tightens now, knuckles white. Satoru grunts brutishly, overwhelmed by the stimulation in his hole in tandem with Suguru’s tongue pressing on the underside of his cock. 

“Fuck, gonna cum–” 

Suguru moans, jaw aching only slightly. Satoru could feel his dick inside Suguru’s mouth, heat building up until he spills onto the boy’s tongue. His head falls back. Breathing like he’d just run a marathon.

“You need a better appetite. Shit tastes like battery acid.”

“Doesn’t all cum taste like that?” Satoru frowns. His hand is still in Suguru’s hair.

“You tell me.” Suguru kisses him, licking the inside of Satoru’s molars. His lips move against Satoru’s mouth slowly, listless so he can take himself. When he pulls away, Satoru wipes the slick off his mouth, plump and bitten.

“You’re exaggerating.”

May, 2009

The sky is oddly grey this afternoon despite the pleasant morning. Yamanashi prefecture is as beautiful as ever with cherry blossoms blooming, but as you approach the cursed site, you continue to feel a chill down your spine. 

It’s your first real mission. One that Yaga had at least approved you for after you had nailed your physical assessments, able to imbue enough cursed energy into a katana to swing around without slicing yourself. Still, you were meant to act as backup for Suguru, which Satoru hated. 

“Why don’t we just both go with her?” he had wailed to Yaga days before, to which Yaga grunted in dismissal. 

“You have a solo mission.”

“But–”

“That’ll be the end of it, Satoru.”

Admittedly, you do wish he was here. Suguru is a comforting presence, though, calmer in demeanor but much less talkative than what you’re used to. You walk with him through overgrown grass and lengthy vines. 

“What kind of curse are we supposed to find?” you question out loud. 

Suguru shrugs. “It’s difficult to tell exactly, but I’m assuming the cursed spirits roaming around here will be, er, women-shaped? Maybe. It should be Grade 2 at most."

“What do you mean, women? What happened here?”

“You don’t know? This place is super haunted.”

“So we’re ghost-hunting.”

“Ghost exorcising,” Suguru grins. “There used to be gold mines here in the 16th century owned by the Takeda Clan. They also ran brothels for the miners. After the Battle of Nagashino, the clan had to give up the land, but not before they killed all the prostitutes to keep them from spreading information about the gold mines.”

“H-how did they kill them?” 

“The miners had the women dance at a farewell party, then they hacked the vines that kept up the bridge they were on. They fell into the waterfall.”

“That’s horrible,” you frown. Foreboding swells in your chest. 

You can’t sense any cursed energy around you other than Suguru’s. You’re too busy ruminating to watch your step, accidentally tripping over a thick root. You fall forward into Suguru’s arms. 

“You okay?” he croons. His face is inches from yours and you forget how to breathe.

“Y-yes. Sorry.” As you untangle yourself from him, your body jolts. You gasp when you hear the hint of a wretched, bloodcurdling scream in the far distance that makes your blood run cold. It isn’t very loud, but it almost sounds muffled, like someone was screaming from another room.

“What? What is it?”

“Did you not hear that?” you whisper. 

Suguru frowns at you in confusion, his expression seemingly genuine. You blink, trying to shake off the horrible feeling in your body. 

“I think I just heard something. It sounded like a scream.”

Suguru waits, prompting you to elaborate. The forest seems darker now despite it being midday, the curl of the trees billowing in a way that feels uncanny. A girl-shaped forest. 

“Maybe we should split up.”

“Absolutely not,” Suguru protests, his mouth set in a firm line. You hold his hand in yours, stroking it gently with your thumb. 

“Suguru, you can’t expect to protect me the entire time. I need to learn how to handle things on my own–”

An inhuman gurgle rumbles from behind you. The curse looks similar to a reptile, yet human-like with webbed hands and sharp incisors slick with algae. The stench of mud is apparent in the air now. It drools green sludge before it bows.

You stand in shock, unsure of what to do as you lock eyes with Suguru. Warily, you draw your sword, and the curse’s eyes roll back in agitation as it lets out another gurgle. 

“Oh, shit–”

You dodge a projectile of slime, but it crawls towards you at a faster pace than you expect. A slice of your katana dismembers one of its arms, but it easily grows back. Within seconds, a giant curse rises from the ground and swallows it up, teeth mashing on gooey flesh in a way that makes you want to hurl. Suguru’s ringworm curse is dismissed once the riverbank is cleared.

“What was that about not needing me to protect you?” Suguru sneers.

“I still mean it,” you exasperate, heart hammering out of your chest. “You barely gave me time.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you have the next one, I swear.”

He smiles genuinely. Satoru must’ve gotten to him – he’s not nearly as neurotic as Satoru in that way, but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if you got hurt. It was less of a possessiveness thing and more of a selflessness thing. Suguru had always been the one to be reliable. He was also more perceptive than Satoru in the way that he could practically feel the tightness of the leash he held on you. 

If you were going to be something in the Jujutsu world, you wouldn’t be held back. Suguru thought you could be something ever since he saw you.

You continue to walk with him, knuckles brushing as the air turns thick. Suguru thinks that maybe you’re sulking in his periphery, so he pokes your cheek.

“Yes?”

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“Just thinking,” you mutter.

The katana feels heavy on your back. You had never thought of yourself as a particularly strong person, growing up to be obedient. A maid’s daughter. Hands a little rough from housework and the dirt of the Earth when you were wild, once. 

“Let me walk around in that little brain of yours,” Suguru murmurs, always charming.

You pause, swallowing. You realize you have never spoken your insecurities out loud. When you were on the brink of it, it would always be during petty arguments with Satoru, who had a way of shutting you down dismissively. He was always a bit of a control freak, even with you.

“Do you think I’m weak?” Your voice sounds almost frail.

“Of course not. I think you’re very talented, actually,” Suguru says. “Satoru and I– we just care a lot.”

“I’m not sure if talented would be the word. It’s not like he thinks so, either.”

“He does. He just doesn’t know how to express his feelings.”

There seems to be something lingering in his tone that gnaws at you. The way he sighs. You decide not to pry, attempting to steer the conversation away from Satoru altogether. 

You hear a wail again. Something in the shape of a girlish scream but only the echo of it. Suguru gives you that confused look at him and you aren’t sure if he’s just messing with you at this point. He touches your hand again and the motion makes you wince.

“What’s wrong?” He looks genuinely worried now as he looks at you, holding a hand to your jaw. That alone is mildly unnerving for some reason, even though you think that in any other environment, you’d welcome it. You place your hand over his palm.

“Do you really not hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That woman screaming!” you hiss. 

“Are you sure it isn’t some wild animal?”

You blink at him blankly.

“You don’t hear it.”

When he shakes his head, you hear it again. You begin to walk towards the source of it while Suguru stalks behind you, but you stop him. 

“Maybe I should handle this.”

He grimaces, clearly unhappy. You raise your brows, challenging him. Suguru wants to hold you back but he knows he shouldn’t. 

“Hey, another fucking– river monster could show up, and you’d be able to handle it. Maybe this is something that only I can see or hear. We’ll be too conspicuous with both of our cursed energy.”

He says your name with a hint of desperation and discipline, but you hold your gaze firmly. 

“Okay,” Suguru sighs. “But if anything goes wrong, just yell for me, okay?”

You nod. 

The tall grass tickles your legs as you move, which makes you thankful you decided to wear trousers instead of your usual skirt for the mission. Your hand grips the strap of your sword bag with anxiety. As you get closer, it’s as if the air is permeated with a smell that you can only describe as being in between sex and blood.

The scream you hear is louder now. You aren’t sure if it’s truly a hallucination, but it seems like the forest laughs back at you after. If you were a smarter person, perhaps you’d return to your partner. But you also assume that if you were to do that, you’d be a weaker person.

You walk over a wooden bridge that feels like it’s holding on by the barest thread. The creaking of the bridge beneath your weight adds to the unease that has settled in your gut. Every step forward feels like a gamble, a test of your bravery. The forest seems to close in around you, the trees whispering secrets you can't quite decipher. 

A scream rips through the air and this time, against your better judgment, you follow it.

It’s punctuated with sobs and whimpers, getting louder and louder as you walk along the path. Cursed energy flickers in the shape of a girl. When you get closer, you see her. 

A girl is sitting in a fetal position behind a tree, clutching her shoulder as she wails in agony. Her long black hair is matted and damp. She doesn’t seem to notice you yet, so you swiftly move to hide yourself between shrubbery to get a better look.

“P-p-please… help me…” she sobs. You choke up at the sight of her torn dress, hands and shoulder crimson with blood. She looks younger than you – no older than fifteen.

You grasp the strap of your sword bag tightly and cautiously as you walk towards her. Her eyes widen when she sees you. You aren’t sure if it’s a look of relief or fear.

“Hi there,” you say with a tremor in your voice. “What’s your name?”

“Akane,” the girl whimpers. Her face is pale with bruised lips.

“Akane. Are you lost? How did you get this injury?” You crouch down to meet her at eye level. 

“Th-there was a man… I was trying to run away from him… but I’m in t-too much pain to keep going,” she breathes. “Please help me.”

You furrow your brows. You’re surprised that there was anyone in this forest besides those grotesque cursed spirits considering how abandoned and desolate the place was. The girl must’ve run far. 

“Where are you from, Akane?”

“Tabayama.”

“That’s not too far from here,” you smile softly. “Let me heal you and my friend and I can get you back home, okay?”

You reach for her arm but she flinches and looks at you with unease. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “I’m a healer, see?”

Your cursed energy waxes and wanes within your palm like a luminous mist. You hover it over a superficial cut on your hand that you’d gotten from dealing with thorns earlier and the skin patches up like new. Akane watches in awe.

“I want to help you. Is it okay if I touch you?”

She nods her head apprehensively. You unwrap the saturated cloth from her shoulder, cringing at the sight of the gore and blood. You can’t quite envision the type of violence she’d just been through from the vagueness of her words, but you don’t want to make the poor girl explain in the midst of her trauma. 

It’s more effort than what you’re used to – the wound is so deep that you fear that you’ll overexert yourself. You’d spent enough time in the lab with Shoko to improve your technique, but this time, it seems as if everything you’re doing isn’t enough. The skin on the girl’s shoulder is healing very slowly, and when you think that her condition is improving, another area of her body seems to bleed out.

“Maybe I should get my friend to help. He could take us to a hospital.”

“He?”

You look up to see Akane’s eyes grow cold. Almost lifeless, as if she’s looking through you. You hear the visceral sound of a limb breaking, the squelch of her organs. It seems as though her face is transforming right in front of your eyes, but it feels like an illusion – the way her skin looks decayed, the way her teeth grow sharper. 

Akane – or what was Akane – cackles cruelly. Her cursed energy is overwhelming now, suffocating you. There’s a warbled cry that falls from her mouth.

“I’ll kill him.”

This is not a fucking Grade 2 curse.

You immediately get to your feet and swing your katana, but the curse blocks your attack easily. She’s also growing exponentially, no longer the size of a teenage girl and more like the river monster you’d seen earlier. She grabs you by the ankle, tripping you. A hack to the wrist with your katana makes the creature scream even more. You watch in horror as thick, black blood seeps out.

You yell Suguru’s name at the top of your lungs.

You see the Rainbow Dragon first, flying through the forest around you and the curse, but the nails on her other hand are strong enough to slice through the dragon’s hide. When you turn to lock eyes with Suguru, the curse lets out something in between a sob and a scream, shrill in your ears. 

It seems as though she forgets you entirely, running head-first towards Suguru. 

“I’ll… kill…. youuuuuuu!”

“No!” you screech, pulling her backward by the leg with all the strength you can muster. You slash the curse’s skin with your katana, making her wail, but she pins you down in retaliation with cuts to your arm from its sharp nails. 

You hiss at the pain. You notice that her hair has transformed into its own entity, tentacle-like and razor-sharp as it slices through one of Suguru’s hound-like curses. She directs her attention back at him and aims for his neck, but you hold down a bloody hand onto her back as your hand pulls one of her sharp hairs back. 

You cry out at the wound it makes in your hand, but your other stays pressed to the slimy flesh of her body. Your cursed energy ignites something unfamiliar in your body, something painful, but you imbue it into your touch with all you have. 

She’s screaming. Or maybe you are. You can’t tell anymore – your head is dulling from expending more cursed energy than you ever have. It’s all dissonant to you. A horrific cacophony. You feel blood drip from your nose. 

The curse’s flesh is rotting. As if the wounds she had when she appeared as a human were only rapidly progressing into decay, cells rupturing, body degenerating the harder you push. 

It’s like she turns to mush. The corpse of the curse is barely recognizable anymore, just a puddle of chunky purplish-black blood. 

You breathe heavily, looking up to see Suguru staring at you in shock. You try to give him a weak smile, but you don’t feel anything other than sick. Or maybe it’s numbness, at least for a few seconds as the forest is quiet again.

You double over and vomit. Your vision blacks out.

As a surprise to no one, Gojo Satoru is fucking livid. 

He’s about to open his mouth but stops himself when Suguru gives him a look of disdain. There’s no one to yell at, except maybe Yaga, because why the fuck would he put you on a mission that could potentially involve a Special Grade?

“She’s fine,” Suguru affirms. 

Satoru merely exhales through his nostrils, curling his hands into fists as he slumps down on the bench next to Suguru. He can’t help but envision your corpse, his brain reeling a horrific supercut of all the ways you could’ve been disfigured, maimed, bruised. Changed.

He realizes that the protectiveness over you he feels has turned into something ugly now that he knows you’re in the infirmary, something akin to fear, which is foreign to him. 

It sinks into him like teeth down to the marrow, parasitic. He thinks of a faceless curse that he wants to tear apart with his bare hands. Satoru had tried to get over the desire to keep you in a cage, to keep you so unbearably close to him out of his own selfishness, but the feeling came back. He doesn’t know where to keep it other than lodged in his chest like a bullet.

“Did you absorb it, Suguru? Because I might need you to summon it later so I can get my fucking hands on it myself,” Satoru says, his voice low and seething through gritted teeth.

“No,” Suguru sighs.

Satord nods dumbly. Silence ensues.

“She killed it herself.”

You have dreams while you’re passed out. The curse you killed transforms its face from its teenage girl form and into others. You see Shoko, Suguru, Satoru. Everyone you’ve ever known. And when the skin of its face starts to rot the same way it did when you used your technique on it, you end up staring at yourself. 

When you wake, it’s slow. The fluorescents in the infirmary don’t help. From outside of the room, you can hear hushed voices. 

When you attempt to lift your body off the bed, you see Shoko sleeping in a chair next to you. Your bones ache, your skin stinging with the ghost of a wound. The cut on your palm from being slashed by the curse is a scar now.

You drop your head again, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to rest more. It’s too fucking bright in this room. Your breathing stills when you hear the door creak open.

“For fuck’s sake,” a voice bristles. 

You hear another whispering Shoko’s name. Waking her, you assume.

“How is she doing?”

“She’s okay,” Shoko yawns. “Just sleeping. Her wounds were kind of deep, but I took care of it.”

A hand caresses your jaw gently, fingers stroking through your scalp. Your eyes blink open slowly to see Satoru grimacing above you. From the way the overhead light illuminates the back of his head, you think he almost looks like an angel. A makeshift halo shining on moonlit hair.

You notice the way he holds his fist tightly and the iciness of his gaze. It’s a fraction of rage, which makes you feel nauseous again. You’d seen that look on his face before, during the night of Shoko’s party. You wonder now, vaguely, what he looks like when he kills.

“Hey,” you mumble weakly.

“Hey,” he scoffs. “Wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“Satoru, let her be–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. You rise, wincing at the soreness of your muscles. “Um. I… killed the curse.”

“So I’ve been told,” Satoru deadpans. His jaw is tense, but his eyes soften. He looks up, flickering his gaze between Shoko and Suguru.

Shoko clears her throat. “She used her technique. The healing part of it is based on cell regeneration. Apparently, it can also be used… the opposite way. It must've been activated by adrenaline, and then it was too much. Passed out from exhaustion.”

“How is that possible?”

“Well, our technique is like a muscle, right? And she didn’t use hers very rigorously until now, so…”

“Right,” Satoru sighs, his voice clipped.

“I need a smoke,” Shoko rasps. “Do you need anything, baby?”

You smile weakly, shaking your head. 

You can’t help but feel guilt snaking its way into your body. Even though you had exorcised a curse, your first actual achievement in Jujutsu sorcery, the bloodshed you’d experienced feels fruitless. You don’t feel very powerful at all, only monstrous. 

It’s difficult to gauge what Satoru is thinking. He’s clearly upset about the fact that you got hurt, but you wonder if there’s more. If he resents you pulling a stunt like that and nearly killing yourself in the process—because what would you be if not his? Are you still his with bloodstained hands? Would he like you better now that you could prove to be strong?

It didn’t matter. He would always be stronger. 

You hate the tension in the air. You can’t bear it. Maybe they’ll disperse once you get on your feet. There wasn’t anything left to do with your treatment since Shoko had tired herself with your wounds. 

When you swing a leg over the cot and attempt to sit up straight, an invisible wall stops you. You glare at Satoru holding his hand out, palm outstretched inches away from your chest.

“No,” he snaps.

“Don’t do that,” you grumble. “I’m fine.”

He laughs but there’s no amusement in his tone. His eyes are cold again. Pools of ice.

“Right. You’re in fucking pristine shape.”

“Satoru,” Suguru warns.

“I– I can walk–”

“No,” Satoru repeats. “You’re hurt. Stop it.”

You look between Satoru’s hard gaze and Suguru’s frown and roll your eyes. You’re so tired, and overwhelmed with pain that transcends the physical kind. You can’t even put a name to it, the amount of emotions spilling out of you as you look at the two of them with mild desperation. You want to sleep for another twelve hours.

Irritation flares behind your face. You aren’t sure if you want to scream or cry for catharsis, but you stay quiet, trembling.

“I want to be in my bed,” you mutter.

Satoru lets out a breath as if he’s been holding it for a while. Gently, he touches the nape of your neck, Infinity down. Laces his fingers in your hair in a sort of compromise. He moves his arm underneath your back with the other under your knees and lifts you, kicking off the blankets.

You curl into him, head on his chest. It made it hard for Satoru to breathe, for some reason, like something was stealing the air from his lungs. He nods to Suguru as a voiceless confirmation, watching his cursed energy flare. I’ll take it from here.

When he gets you into your room, Satoru releases you, placing you gingerly on the floor. Part of him wants to shake you by the shoulders, have you slap him across the face for reasons unknown to him. Something, anything other than the despondence of your limp figure. He can’t stand it.

“Satoru,” you whisper. “I’m sorr–”

“Don’t,” he strains. “Do you even know why you’re apologizing? Or is it just second nature to you?”

You say nothing.

He strips off your uniform, torn and battered. Still reeking of copper blood, the stench all too familiar, but not on you. 

“I’m sorry for being mean. I was just worried,” he says. “I’m… proud of you.”

“Proud?” You look at him, dazed, as if this is the last thing you expect him to say.

He nods curtly, a sad smile on his face. “I always knew you had it in you.”

He picks you up again despite your futile protest, walking you to the attached bathroom. After turning on the faucet, he sits next to you, hand stroking your thigh gently in silence. He doesn’t look at you. He’s not sure if he can.

“C’mon. Up.” He taps your thigh once.

You’re still dizzy as you enter the bath, sighing at the warmth of the water. As you sink into the bath, a sense of relief washes over you, momentarily easing the tension in your body. A much-needed respite.

You feel Satoru trail his fingers around your collarbone, rising to feel your pulse. The rhythm seems to calm him as he soothes his palm over your shoulders and back. His touch is less urgent than it usually is. 

He squeezes shampoo in your hair and threads his fingers through it, scratching your scalp gently, untangling the mess of you. He saturates a washcloth with soap, rubbing small circles over your limbs, lifting you like you’re a doll. It was funny—he had never had to take care of anyone other than himself before, but at the moment, he’s indulged in the small hums of pleasure you make, reveling in your comfort. Your trust.

He likes taking care of you. It makes him feel like he has a sense of control. He doesn’t want to indulge too far into it, knowing it’ll smolder a nasty part of him in some way. But the steam of the hot water makes his cheeks ruddy, and when you open your eyes at the feeling of his hand on your jaw, he can’t help but want to keep you. 

Satoru turns your face toward him, cupping your chin as he leans in to kiss you. Your mouth opens like a flower blooming, ready for him like always. He tries not to be rough despite the moan you tease out of him. Your skin is soft after he bathes you. His hands know carnage, but they also know you.

You break apart, looking at each other for a few seconds before he kisses you again. He pecks your mouth, nose, and cheeks, leaving you to scrunch your nose by the end. Laughing, he rinses your hair.

“Feel better?” he asks lightly. You nod. 

“C’mon, baby. You’re gonna get all pruney in there.”

You’re perfectly capable of drying yourself off and putting on clothes, but Satoru seems eager to do it for you, so you stay limp in his arms. He’s being oddly affectionate as he babies you, which he never does. It’s usually the other way around.

With his hands on your waist, a dangerous thought flits through Satoru’s mind, but it dissipates when he fixes your hair to see you fresh-faced. You look young, innocent. Untouched by violence like he had known you before. 

He takes you to the bed, where, despite the size of it, he manages to slot his body next to yours so he can curl into you. Head on your chest to listen to the murmur of your heartbeat. 

You stay like this for a while, listening to each others’ breaths. You’re on the brink of sleep when you think you feel tears on your chest. Dampness on your cotton shirt, but only a little. Satoru exhales heavily, squeezing the meat of your side. You’re feeling a little too warm from the proximity but don’t have the heart to untangle yourself. You close your eyes.

“I love you.”

You aren’t sure if it’s a whisper in your dreams or not.

June, 2002

You both had matching bruises. Green and yellowish like snot.

The summer was changing you and Satoru in a way that held gravity. Satoru’s body was growing more and more, handsome like the beautiful child he’d been when you first met him, and you were a purgatory. Something girlish. Something ghostly.

Your mother had reprimanded you last week for coming back with a bloody knee, scolding you for rough play. The expiration on your youth seemed to be ticking from the way she chastised you about your shared misbehavior with Satoru – you were meant to grow into something polite and womanly.

Satoru had scoffed at the notion when you told him. He liked that you weren’t obsequious to him like everyone else in his life who treated him like a little prince. 

Unfortunately, you’d pave the road of your abjection all by yourself later on.

He still thought of you as the only person who understood him. He was your first friend, your only friend for a while, and you were his. You’d count stars with him. Catch fireflies and make wishes on them. Wear each other’s clothes before his growth spurt.

You’d clung to each other for years—it was difficult to tell which one of you was the parasite. Despite this, sometimes you think Satoru hates you. Sometimes he makes you cry, especially with how apathetic he can be. You blame his stoicism on his upbringing, but there are times that you feel like an afterthought, only exacerbated as he grows older and into something of worth.

At age twelve, it’s difficult for you to believe that you could be anything similar.

Your young ferocity gets minimized to meekness at school. There’s hair-pulling, harder than Satoru’s ever done to you. Stolen lunches. Spitballs to your back. Your face kissing pavement.

“What happened to you?” Satoru asks, narrowing his eyes at the sight of your split lip.

“I fell.”

He’s forceful when he drags you to him. He’s too tall for his age, towering over you with cold blue eyes staring down at you. You flinch when he touches your cheek with his hand.

“You’re lying,” he frowns.

“It’s fine,” you mumble.

He doesn’t pry after that, but he does force you to clean the cut with hydrogen peroxide, which is ironic considering how little he cares about his own cuts and bruises from his private training.

On the playground the next day, you’re targeted again, reaching desperately for your backpack that’s stolen straight from your hands. A kick to the shins has you scraping your palms when you try to ground yourself. Your hands sting as they bleed. You gasp when you feel another kick to the stomach, a cruel round of laughs taunting you.

But then, you hear them gasp. The sound of knuckles hitting bone. 

“Touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Satoru lifts you up by the hand and holds you by the shoulders. He picks the debris out of your hair.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” he sighs. He ignores the tears on your cheeks. He’ll wipe them away later along with the dried blood in your palms.

You’ll shower in his bathroom, mind blank under the hot water. He’ll see your silhouette through the peek in the door, and his stomach will lurch in a new way. He won’t be able to look at you for a week after. 

June, 2009

He comes to you at night a little drunk. You’re surprised Satoru didn’t warp this time – you’re used to seeing him in the blink of an eye right before you go to sleep just because he doesn’t want to sleep in his own room. Sleep is hardly a thing for him anyway – his insomnia has gotten a bit worse over the years, so he prefers to play on his Nintendo DS quietly as he strokes your hair. 

“You actually knocked?” 

He shrugs as he moves past you to flop his long body onto your twin bed. You look at him in question. He doesn’t answer, only gesturing for you. 

“Come over here,” he slurs.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not–” he hiccups, “at all.”

“Satoru,” you berate.

“Okay, maybe I went a little crazy with the Dirty Shirleys. Needed a drink after the stupid fucking mission Yaga sent us on.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking this much. It’s a weekday.”

He mocks you and settles a hand over your waist. You notice the calluses on his hands, ironic considering he can never let anything touch him. But you can.

He sits you on his lap, rubbing your shoulders carefully. “How’s your night been?”

“Shoko made me watch Audition,” you frown.

“Oh. I love that one.”

“Of course you do,” you sigh, “Nothing scares you.”

You aren’t wrong. After assassination attempts and countless wretched curses thrown Satoru’s way, nothing could make him flinch anymore. 

“You scare me,” he pouts, undressing himself. Always staking his claim on you in this way – he wouldn’t leave if you asked, and you know that you won’t.

“I highly doubt that.”

“You should yell at me more. It’s kind of a turn-on when you’re mad.”

You roll your eyes as you turn off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness if not for the light of the moon and the annoying brilliance of Satoru’s eyes. Even his hair seems to glow in the dark, head dipped in starlight. 

As you lay on your side, you feel Satoru’s palm undulating your bare thigh, tickling you under the hem of your t-shirt. He breathes in the scent of your neck.

“You have goosebumps,” he mumbles against your hair. “Gonna get nightmares from the movie?”

“No.”

“I’ll protect you,” he giggles boyishly, body overheating with want.

He sucks on your neck, hand parting the plushness of your thighs. You keen at the feeling of his teeth and tongue, gasping at his large fingers sliding your panties to the side to prod your cunt.

“This is all I could think about today.”

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “Kept thinking about all those sounds you make. Kept thinking about your face.”

“You shouldn’t—ah—let yourself get so distracted on your missions.”

He laughs. “Whatever. Killed all those fuckers in less than ten minutes anyway.”

Satoru keeps you pressed to his chest, his other hand grasping your breast. You feel his dick hardening behind you as he plays with your cunt, fingers knuckle-deep inside you. It didn’t take him long to find your spot the way he had you memorized. Your eyes shut tightly as you moan. Stars knock around your head.

He turns your face toward his and licks at the seam of your lips, tongue roughly licking the inside of your mouth. Your body tingles at the sound of his groans. He holds you by the chin, hand slipping around your throat to hold you in place so he can take in every detail of your face. 

You flush under his gaze, how his blown-out pupils outweighed the ocean blue. His pink mouth is parted and breathing out, zephyrs of maraschino cherry tickling your face.

You cry out when he pins you down, sinks his cock into your wetness. A wounded sound. It makes him shiver, makes him think about you on that dingy cot a month ago in the infirmary. Satoru was about ready to avenge you in any way he could, back then, even when you weren’t even half-dead. He’d reshape mountains. Drown the whole city of Tokyo with his bare hands.

In the way he holds you with bruising force, rutting into you like a devoted dog, he decides that he will be the only person to hurt you. The only one who should, knowing that even with his regrets and jagged ways of caring, no one else should lay a finger on you except him. He’d never hurt you in a violent way, unless his passion had counted. If devouring you counted, which it probably did, he would be content with his selfishness if it meant you were safe.

He needed to learn how to stop being so goddamn obsessive. He’d work on it later, maybe. He’d try not to speak curses into existence from the way he felt about you.

At the moment, he wants to make this good for you. Something like love.

“Made for me,” he whispers. “You were fucking made for me.”

“Yes,” you gasp.

He splits you open, spearing into your gut as he mumbles praises lowly into your ear. Your cunt pulses at the sound of his voice. He thrusts into you harshly, making blood rush to your head.

“You make me feel insane,” he grunts. “Used to think about you like this in high school. You were so fucking stubborn, refusing to give me attention.”

“You were a brat,” you flush. “Still are.”

“Your brat.”

“Mine,” you hum.

He groans at that. He’s so deep in you, drowning in syrupy velvet. He liked it when your body made him feel like this, like he was levitating. He wasn’t Gojo with you, always Satoru, always just a boy. He’d be content in this infinite spiral, swapping spit in between tongues and fucking into you until you cried. Your body is sacred. You made him forget himself when he needed to.

You like when he carves you out like this, your cunt a shrine for him at this point. You moan at the loss of him, watching through glassy eyes as he stumbles, fixing your body in between his knees.

“Wanna see my pretty girl’s face,” he groans. He’s annoyingly rough when he enters again, but you love it. He says your name like it’s a prayer.

Your head buzzes as he thrusts into you faster this time. His hair sticks to his face, tickling your cheek as he bites into your neck. Midnight vignettes blur your vision. 

“Wish you’d let me have you earlier,” he pants.

“Fucking me for the past year wasn’t enough?”

He shakes his head. “Wish I lost it to you. I was thinking about you during it, too.”

“Satoru,” you whine.

He means it. He was already blunt as could be, but alcohol made him over-honest. He liked that his candor made you blush.

“Would you have let me fuck you?” he teases. “When we were fifteen?”

“No. You were even stupider then.”

“So mean to me,” he chuckles, rolling his hips more aggressively. He revels in watching you squirm. “I would’ve worshipped you.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” you mumble, hiding your face in his chest. Nails cross-hatching the length of his back.

“I would’ve.” I will.

He kisses you open-mouthed like it’s a promise, pulling your hair in the process. The room was starting to get hot, that June humidity unforgiving, even at night. You’d have to open a window later. His body makes yours swelter, skin melting into skin like he’s trying to fuse the both of you into one thing. Like that Greek myth about two halves of a soul.

“Fuck, ‘m so close,” he whimpers. “You feel too good. Shit, I wanted to make you beg.”

“Sounds like you’re the one begging,” you exhale.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Want you. You’re killing me. Fuck.”

He spills inside of you at the same time you cum, the heaviness of his low groans making your brain break. He’s still drunk, head swimming with every part of you. Above you, he sports that fallen angel look again, eyes gleaming with rapture. Prodigious as he was, he worships you instead, blessed with love bruises adorning his shoulder.

Satoru always liked to fuck you like it was the last day he’d ever have you. Tonight is no different. 

He exhales at the juncture of your neck, soothed by your hands in his hair. He lifts his body up, kissing your collarbone before he descends to your belly. You tremble at the feeling of his hand cupping your cunt.

“Satoru, I can’t–”

“Please?” he pouts, his breath tickling your clit. “Wanna taste you. All mixed up with me.”

Heat rises to your face violently. “You’re disgusting.”

“You love it.”

“You made such a mess,” you grumble.

“I’ll clean it up,” he grins. 

You let him. His sharp mouth never lets up, anyway.

“Wait! Sit on my face.”

“I can’t even feel my legs,” you pout.

He whines your name. “I had such a tough mission today, baby. You don’t think I deserve it?”

“Spoiled,” you mumble as you switch positions with him. Below you, he looks feral in the eyes, over-eager. Hungry like a wolf even after fucking you hard.

You gasp when he pulls you down, slotting your thighs on each side of his head while he starts to taste you. Licking up into your cunt, moaning at the taste of himself and the sweetness of you. He grips your ass, guiding your movements like the ebb and flow of a wave. You shake above him.

“Jesus.”

You feel him laugh, the vibrations tickling your clit. 

“Annoying slut,” you call him. He seems to enjoy it, thinking of it as praise considering how loud he groans. It almost embarrasses you.

That familiar feeling twinges in your core again. 

“Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. He latches his mouth on your clit and you think you might burst. Maybe crumble and fly away in the wind like a dandelion.

He continues to suck on you as you ride out your orgasm, your thighs trembling. When he gets up for air, his eyes are blown out wide, drunken smile on his face as if he’s peaking. Chemical reactions in his blood.

“So good for me,” he grins, kissing you on the mouth. Your heart flutters.

His gaze is still searing into you. Looking at him hurts, sometimes. 

Satoru presses into you, curling into your neck again. His heartbeat reverberates throughout the room. Tenderness floods the both of you, bodies slotted together like he wants to make a nest out of you. 

You’re exhausted with heavy lids. Satoru strokes your skin until you fall asleep, careful fingers soothing the places his mouth had been. Divine wounds. Like a devotional dog with teeth too sharp and love larger than his body, Satoru will be the only one to hurt you.

[gremlingottoosilly]

I know there’s a human resistance rebellion they could probably snatch some baby humans from or something, but what about like human breeding or something? is that a thing in this universe? Since they’re more akin to pets I was wondering if there was some sort of like human breeders.

Since there’s also like selective breeding for pets there could also be selective breeding for only the most fertile humans (even if it technically doesn’t work that way). They might not even keep the males, it could be like how they just harvest sperm and artificially inseminate them?

Just worldbuilding from your silly local rice ball lover 🍙

That's a really good point, thank you, Onigiri anon!! Yes, some humans are kept as nothing more than breeding mares to move humans. Unfortunately, in the initial uprising, a large population of humans, especially the most vulnerable ones, were killed by monsters, hunger, and the elements when the civilization fell into dystopia for the first time. Monsters quickly learned that just killing every human they see isn't really a viable scenario, and someone had to pick up where the others have fallen. Men and women are both viable for reproduction, esp for species that lay eggs, like Konig or Gaz. With monsters of egg-laying type, no matter if they are birds or reptiles or sea life, they are using humans as incubators, since they need warm and soft bodies for the eggs to nourish on. It's more like a reverse seahorse situation, when you're inserted with eggs, but don't really have a genetic intake on how the babies are going to turn up. There is a chance of a more traditional pregnancy with children resembling both parents, but it's extremely rare and frowned upon by monsters - after all, humans are deemed inherently weak by any monster. Selective breeding saves both male and female specimens, as long as they have more advantages to raise the monster brood properly - I imagine wider hips, softer bodies in general, resilience to pain, and the submissiveness that gets really stuck in their heads as a result. With humans sold in pet shops, it's no wonder that some monster species are taking their role as caretakers and raisers of new human generations for further breeding - as fucked up as it might be. some humans get released by human resistance, although if a person comes from this indoctrinated, monster-pleasing background, they wouldn't be able to survive in the wild, in most cases. Also as a fun fact, humans have much larger life spans than any human would - Konig can easily clock up at least 100 years and more and more, as long as he isn't killed - but the thing is, that human's biology gets irreversibly changed after a prolonged and repeated exposure to monster semen. Our poor breeding wifey, she doesn't even know that aging isn't a problem anymore( death of old age isn't going to help her get free of Konig, they have mated, and she will be alive for much, much longer, her life span increasing with every time an egg or semen gets deposited in her.

[vasyandii]

I'm kicking my feet I love your oc Vernon! Let me pry though: have Vernon and AM ever kissed, or will they ever kiss? Also does AM enjoy the sensation of Vernon close to him or when she touches him, like in your art of her using him as an AC LOL

AAAAH Howdy howdy!! I'm so glad you like Vernon as I've worked real hard on her! Thank you so much for the ask! 💞💞 I will be answering these in reverse order!

VernonAM 🏺🖥️

Does AM enjoy the sensation of Vernon close to him/when she touches him?

I like to believe AM's come a long way with being touched. When he first transferred his consciousness over to his body, it was sensory overload. The WORST kind.

Everything was too loud, too quiet, he could smell EVERYTHING, everything was too hot, too cold, not hot enough, his mouth felt dry even with the saliva he had, how much it hurt feeling the air in his lungs, HE COULD FEEL HIS EYEBALLS IN HIS SKULL. It was like being born, it was awful. Like Nietzsche said; "To live is to suffer."

Vernon sat him down, trying to calm him since this is technically the first "human" she's seen after 109 years.

AM could feel every fold of his clothing rubbing against his skin, every microscopic fibre stabbing his skin. The residual warmth from Vernon touching him to sit him down so he wouldn't collapse caused AM to start screaming, sobbing.

Because he had no mouth (roll credits) prior to this, he didn't know how to use it to form words. He couldn't articulate what was wrong in his fit of screaming and tears.

And so his body went limp not 10 minutes after. He got out of there, telling Vernon that it's the closest thing he could compare to the torture he put on the other five. Vernon had to convince him to come back again or she'd tear the damn body apart and eat it.

It took months, baby steps of getting him adjusted in being a man. They spent weeks on smell, touch, and heat before they would even consider movement. It was tough on Vernon's end, smart as she is, she's a terrible teacher, asking AM to leave her alone for a few hours or days, lashing out when he's in such a vulnerable state.

But Vernon persisted, and finally AM got to hold her comfortably. Fast forward to now, AM has grown quite fond of the sensation of touch and touching things just for the sake of it. They could be sitting and he'd have it so their shoulders are touching.

AM is fond of Vernon's touch, that's the only time she's gentle (despite her words) with anything that might have the possibility of breaking. He enjoys her softness and warmth; How protective she is of him. AM can't articulate genuine care since his hatred for humanity is still there, but he's grateful, even despite his taunts.

Have AM and Vernon ever kissed? Will they ever kiss?

They kiss often, those two degenerates. It almost makes me jealous how often they kiss (D1 hater over here).

Vernon's technically kissed him before, just to get him comfortable, but it's never on the lips or near his face, usually his wrists and knuckles. Exposure therapy along with affection, basically. He didn't try to kiss her back until he was fully prepared to.

After fully adjusting to his new body, AM was finally able to kiss Vernon. He wasn't very good at it his first attempt. It was more similar to AM headbutting Vernon than an actual kiss.

Having a body gave way to a new emotion; embarrassment. Since he's now technically on the same level as her (in height as well, he's a lil dude) he was embarrassed that his first attempt didn't go as planned. When he didn't have a body, there was nothing to be judged, but now he does.

After brushing it off as him being curious and just feeling like headbutting her, AM didn't attempt to kiss her on the lips until he was sure he was ready.

Their proper first kiss was quite nice.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading my mad man words! I tend to ramble a ton, so if there's anything you'd like for me to clarify, feel free to tell me!