#If I enjoy doing these I might do this more often

[plainclothesdisaster]

Martian Manhunter has seen many things happen in the Watchtower situation room, but this might be one of the strangest.

One of Gotham’s many vigilantes- Red Hood, if he wasn’t mistaken- stormed into the room, slammed his palms on the far side of the long table, and said, “You need to check what the asteroid is made of.”

The asteroid in question was one line item of many agenda points for this meeting. The radar had picked it up as one on a collision course with Earth, but they had protocols for this. They’d dealt with similar situations multiple times before. It’s not often though, that they have uninvited attendees to justice league meetings. That alone is enough to make J’onn wonder.

“How did you get up here, son?” Superman, always the diplomat, attempts to calm some of the confusion.

“Irrelevant. The asteroid. What’s its composition?”

Batman has less patience. “The protocols are in place to deal with the threat. Red Hood—“

“They won’t work.”

Green Lantern, ever not the diplomat, rolls his eyes. “Kid, we’ve dealt with similar situations dozens of times. Care to explain why this one is so special?”

“Just trust me.”

Batman sighs. “I think we’ve heard enough, Hood.”

“No. Wait. I have it on good authority that the usual protocol won’t work.” He retorts, then stares directly at Batman, as if that statement wasn’t just another empty platitude.

Batman’s jaw flexes. An understanding passes between them.

“What authority?” Diana questions, stone faced.

As if in response, the door opens again. A familiar face pops in, seemingly oblivious to the meeting. It’s a member of the Watchtower tech staff. Danny.

“Ah. Whoops,” Danny stutters. “Didn’t know you all were in here. My bad.”

Red Hood transfers his glare to this newcomer, but Danny seems blissfully immune to it. Batman remains uncharacteristically speechless as Danny steps further into the room.

“But while I’m here—“ Danny hits a switch on the wall and a crisp blue light projection of their solar neighborhood beams into view above the table. “I upgraded the holo projectors.” The planets spin and their clouds swirl and their many moons dance in orbit. It’s incredibly accurate and finely detailed.

“Pretty cool, right?”

And there, just beyond the rings of Saturn, is the asteroid in question.

Danny meets Batman’s eyeline and raises his eyebrows. Another silent exchange. It has J’onn on edge. He trusts the team around this table implicitly. He does not, however, trust those who haven’t earned their seat.

He reaches out telepathically for Danny, intending just a surface level read of his intentions. But Upon making connection he’s met with infinite nebulae, an endless vortex, an impossible cold. He grips his knees under the table, suddenly fighting not to be overwhelmed, and then in a snap he’s cut off. Like a fly being swatted.

Danny’s eyes slide to him, slowly. Sorry about that. Should have warned you it’s dangerous to look too close. Danny’s voice echoes across the telepathic link.

J’onn sits up straighter. Just what kind of creature had Batman let on this station?

What do you know. J’onn demands.

Nothing you can’t figure out. Y’all aren’t that dense.

“It’s Kryptonite.” Superman’s dark tone brings his attention back to the table. Batman’s at the holo controls— he’s zoomed in on the asteroid and data and projection lines flicker all around it.

“No- it looks almost like lantern energy. Like it’s a construct.” Green Lantern has lost his snark. A reprieve certainly, but never a good omen.

“Either possibility makes redirection challenging. Destruction inadvisable.” Batman frowns.

J’onn keeps his eyes on Danny, who now seems to be on the receiving end of a whispered lecture from the still-inexplicable Red Hood. Danny looks unbothered, and indeed instead appears like he is rather enjoying himself.

Voices raise around the table as more solutions are offered and discarded. This is not how he expected this meeting to go.

Or maybe you all are that dense. Danny muses down the apparently still-active link.

J’onn is about to interrogate him further when he stops. He’s arrived at the answer to their conundrum.

“Density shifting.”

“J’onn?” Batman quiets the rest of the table and everyone’s focus shifts.

“We density shift the asteroid so it passes through the Earth harmlessly. Between myself and Miss Martian it should be possible.”

Murmurs of assent fill the room. Batman’s gaze goes again to Danny, and J’onn’s follows.

The supposed mechanic is smiling at them like a pleased housecat.

Batman keeps eye contact with Danny down the length of the table. Danny stands at the opposite head, next to Red Hood. For a moment J’onn wonders if the command of the room has shifted.

Until Danny shrugs and says, “Sounds plausible enough. Don’t look at me. I’m just a mechanic.”

J’onn reaches for the telepathic link, but it’s gone. Danny turns to leave, Red Hood at his heels, but before he does he winks at J’onn on his way out the door.

J’onn blinks. The air in the room shifts and settles as soon as Danny’s gone. Batman begins outlining the logistics of the new plan, but J’onn barely hears him.

He can’t get that flash of endless void out of his head. And yet the link did end up leaving an impression of Danny’s intentions after all: Kindness. Secrecy. And a pure, desperate desire to help.

Very strange indeed.

//

“I could have handled it,” Jason says over his shoulder as he stirs the bolognese sauce.

Danny’s sprawled out on the couch with some trashy tv on in the background. “You did great.”

“I’m just saying— you didn’t have to show up.”

“What if I just wanted to see steam come out of Batman’s ears in person?”

“You get to do that every time we go to family dinner,” he pauses to taste the sauce, adds a dash more pepper. “I thought it was supposed to be risky. Y’know- for you to get involved.”

“It is, yeah. Which is the reason for all this roundabout mumbo jumbo. Making them figure it out themselves. Means I’m less likely to get caught.”

He taps his spoon and turns to face Danny. “Why risk it then? Why not just let them deal with it on their own? They would have figured out how to deal with the asteroid eventually.”

“Probably, yeah. But how late? How many of people would have gotten hurt- or worse- in that process?”

Jason sighs. he knows trying to convince Danny to be less self sacrificing is like arguing with a carbon steel wall. The timer beeps and he drains the noodles.

“I was just gonna go handle it myself on the sly but— turned out that dumb rock had enough ectoranium in it to resist ghost powers.”

“You didn’t have to do that either.”

Danny shrugs as Jason plates the pasta and hands him a bowl. Jason takes his seat on the couch next to him.

By the time he’s settled Danny has already shoved a big bite of pasta in his mouth. “You’ve really outdone yourself.” He says between chews.

Jason smiles, but he’s not ready to let it go. “If you’re gonna keep doing this, you gotta let me help you.”

“For sure,” he replies between chews.

“Like, actually help you.”

“Of course.”

“Danny. For real though. If you get caught— I can’t— ugh.” Jason sets his bowl on the coffee table and turns to look Danny in the eye. “All I’m saying is that if you get yoinked away to some other dimension as punishment I’m going to be pretty pissed, okay?”

Danny puts his fork down and gives him a wry look.

“But really, me helping you can’t be /that/ against the rules. And if it is, surely you’ll come save me if I get yoinked too, yeah?”

Danny releases a breathy laugh. “Of course! Of course.” He sighs, and his smile fades. “I really wasn’t going to get involved. I was just gonna get a degree, get a normal enough job, just try to live a life while I could.”

“So do that. The Justice League’s problems aren’t your personal responsibility.”

“No, but— If I have the power to help people— to save people— and I don’t, that kinda makes me a shitty person, no?”

“Not if it means risking the whole life you built.”

“I don’t have a life to risk, remember?”

“You do to me!” He’s raised his voice without meaning to, and Danny looks up at him wide-eyed. Jason’s stomach flips, but he’s still not ready to back down, because it’s true.

The life Danny brought to him over the past months is apparent everywhere around them. His shirts heaped over the chair, the kind of coffee he likes in the cabinet and the mug that’s become his, the dirty dishes from all the meals Jason would have never cooked just for himself, the shitty punk music he insisted on playing. It’s a warmth and a light that’s seeped into his home, and even deeper into the core of himself. He didn’t know he could still feel so alive.

Danny’s eyebrows stitch together and he goes pensive, which Jason rarely has seen. Jason takes a bite of pasta to fill the silence, lukewarm now.

“Oh.” Danny whispers emphatically. “Shit.”

And suddenly Jason is questioning everything. Is this thing they have not real to Danny the way it is for him? Is he just the plaything of a god?

“Jay. I didn’t think—“ he starts and takes a shaky breath. “You’re not supposed to care about me.”

Jason blanks. “What?”

“Im allowed to be human under like, so many conditions. And even then I’m not sure what the hell I even am sometimes. This could all go away at any second, and I have very little control of if and when that happens.”

“So?”

“So? That means I’m going to hurt you, inevitably, whether I want to or not. And I can’t— I won’t—“

Danny’s hands shake, and Jason wordlessly reaches out and pulls him close. He brings Danny’s head to his chest and wraps his arms tight around him. Danny relaxes into him, ear resting over the gentle thud of his heart.

“I don’t care, you dumbass.” And he truly doesn’t. He likes the way Danny makes him feel. He likes the person he is with him. Even if Danny broke his heart on purpose it would still be worth it.

“You should,” the words are muffled through Jason’s shirt. “You shouldn’t want to be with me.”

“Too bad. Also, false. My boyfriend is a god-king with cosmic powers beyond comprehension. Pretty sure that makes me the lucky one.”

Danny chuckles and lifts his chin just enough to meet Jason’s eyes. “I’m going to cosmically comprehend your ass all the way to Pluto if you say something as cringe as that ever again.”

“Mm. Threats. Hot.”

Danny swats at him. Jason just holds him tighter and Danny fights against his arms playfully. Jason knows he could break out at any moment if he really wanted to, but he doesn’t. Instead he settles again, cradled on Jason’s lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jason breathes into the top of Danny’s mop of hair. “And for now neither are you. And I’ll kick whoever’s ass who has a problem with that.”

“Even mine?”

“Definitely yours.”

“Good.”

Danny lifts up and presses his lips to Jason’s in a cheeky kiss. And Jason eagerly kisses him back.

//

That’s all I’ve got planned for this little AU, thanks for reading :3

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

[bunni-v1]

Cums all over your smilk headcanons

ANYWAYS wha if reader was just as much of a sensitive doll as he is when bottoming, would he just ignore them 😭

MDNI

Bro don't do that ur gonna stain it........

Anyway, I think that Shadow Milk is surprisingly flexible about sex! Like I said before he's not really in it for himself, what he enjoys is making you come undone. While that CAN mean him being cruel and giving you verbal lashings and being rough, if you're not into it he's not gonna force you.

Yes, he likes pinning you down and making you take it. Yes, he enjoys seeing you squirm and tear up from his sexual torture. Of course, he likes it when you whimper and whine when he calls you a needy slut. But he ONLY enjoys it when you're also into it. If you're not enjoying it, it's not really fun, it's just... gross.

He can feel your discomfort through the bite, you can't hide it from him, and he doesn't like the feeling coursing through his dough.

He loves you after all, and as much as he loathes to admit it, he doesn't want to hurt you. If you need some softer treatment, he can be flexible! No more degrading if you do not like it, he's more than happy to baby you if you like. He'll tease you for being so sensitive, though. Nothing too mean, just cooing at you like a petulant little child.

If you don't like being hit manhandled or tied up, that's okay too. There are other ways to have fun while having sex, roleplaying, cumplay, mutual masturbation, etc.. He'll survive if you're too sensitive to be played with so roughly.

One thing he doesn't compromise on is overstimulation and edging. They're his favorites, and if you're so sensitive it'll just make it easier to get the reaction he wants from you!

I didn't mention this in the first post, but I know for a fact you have an established safe word that he insisted on (believe it or not). He is very aware of the fact that you are not like him, and you are easily hurt in ways that he is not. Because of his kinks and what he indulges in, he needs you to have that safeword so he doesn't end up legitimately hurting you on accident.

He's a secret sweetheart with a soft spot in his dough just for you. He might not show it often, but he will when he needs to.

[cowboyschumi]

MUSE

Summary: Oscar is known for being bad at padel, which is why he tries other hobbies, like photography. Now, he clearly needs something to take photos of.

Author's note: Oscar trying to play paddel 🤏

I'm a huge fan of taking inspiration from songs, so you can listen to this. Don't forget to enjoy the reading and show some love. <3

Warnings: None ig.

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COWBOYSCHUMI | 2025 All rights reserved. Do not copy, translate, or upload on other platforms.

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Oscar had to be grateful for being that good of a driver. Man, he was really bad at other sports. Everyone pointed it out and made fun of him, some people even pitied him or found it cute. He even tried golfing, but that racket was his last straw. He was a bit frustrated, but Oscar wasn’t the type to get frustrated and give up. He just accepted the fact that he wasn’t gifted enough.

His Instagram was— for his luck because he wasn't a media guy— managed by a social media professional, who made him posts and even took charge of taking pictures. Yes, none of his dumps, captions, or stories were posted by his own hands, which was crazy. He wanted some sort of control over that, after all, he had a voice and a platform. Not taking advantage of that would be a shame, besides there was no fun and genuine part if he wasn't the one behind his Instagram. So he decided to take it more seriously, it made his brain hurt in the most untolerable ways but he started to post more, engage with his fans.

Instagram dumps are such a religious thing for some people, he wasn't in that group until now. Having a picture perfect Instagram would let people have more connection with the places, his interests— perceive him differently and not some boring and flat boy with not much to say.

Like any driver, he had a stylist, a PR team, and other fancy stuff—which he didn’t like much because the main focus was on him, physically. His content was different now; it was full of sunsets, yachts, cars, and food pictures. He had to thank his team for lending him a professional camera—it made the quality ten times better.

"It's a lost cause." Oscar spoke as he carelessly dried his hair with a towel.

You vividly remember the first time he stepped into one of your classes—the typical shy kid who barely spoke. Other drivers came along with him, doing most of the talking, but they weren’t consistent in attending. For them, padel was just a way to kill time. Oscar, on the other hand, wanted to know everything about it—from the size of the court to executing the perfect shot with his racket. A few weeks after his first class, he started booking lessons on his own, demanding more focus and dedication.

He came around twice a week, and seeing him so often, you quickly grew close. So it wasn’t surprising to find him frequently emerging from the showers at the padel club. You had even learned to tolerate his wannabe tennis grunts when he hit the ball. At this point, you had already seen the worst of him.

"You’re just being hard on yourself. Not everything has to be perfect."

Like in any common locker room, there was a bench where people placed their clothes after showering. You sat there as you two talked.

No matter how comfortable you were around Oscar, you respected him, so you made a point of not looking at his shirtless torso.

"Don't give me a pity speech. I’ve heard enough of that." He really did sound tired of hearing it. But it was true—no one should be too hard on themselves for not meeting their highest expectations. Striving for perfection in everything wasn’t normal. Oscar’s mindset was too rigid, and being optimistic felt like an impossible task for him.

"Webber told me you started… photography? He even sounded worried about what you might do with that." Chuckles and laughter echoed through the warm changing room.

"Yeah, I mean, it’s pretty great. Still got a lot to work on," he admitted sincerely, making that classic uncertain face he always did when he wasn’t sure about something. His facial expressions were always amusing. "I got bored of photographing the plants on my balcony at home. Took some photos of Lando, and Hattie doesn’t even want the lens near her."

Laughter filled the room again—it felt like a comedy show at this point. But when it faded, you exchanged a tense glance, as if communicating telepathically. A mischievous smirk lit up his face.

"No." Your answer was immediate and firm, anticipating what was coming.

"I haven’t even said anything!" He raised his hands in mock innocence, his guilty smile still in place. Oh, you knew him too well.

"I won’t. I’m not photogenic."

"Please, just one time."

Oscar always swore on one-time things. But when something felt good, you tended to repeat it. He knew exactly how to take advantage of your kindness, always asking for harmless favors—because, in the end, you never said no to him.

————————————————————————

And there you were, in his Monaco apartment, on a morning when rain was pouring outside. Oscar always pointed out the differences between his current lifestyle and the one he had in Australia, the daily longing for home. That small place in Europe had its charm, and he wouldn’t complain, but he missed the wide-open spaces, the warmer weather, and even his mom’s cooking. Now he lived on the highest floor of the busiest avenue, in a cramped apartment so small that he barely had space to walk around.

"I brought donuts and coffee," You announced while cleaning your boots on the entrance mat.

"Cool, thank you. Would you mind sitting by the window? The light is majestic." His attention was focused on his camera, probably adjusting some tricky settings.

"Already bossing around?" Unbelievable. The kid already thought he was a professional photographer, giving orders and having the worst attitude.

You had a big trench coat on, surprisingly still soaked after the unstoppable rain. And it kept coming—people still struggling with their umbrellas, cars almost floating down the street. That’s what you could see from how high his apartment was.

The brown-eyed boy placed his face behind his huge, intimidating camera, yet somehow, you didn’t feel intimidated by it—after all, he was the one taking the photos. But then, an unexpected expression of discontent crossed his face, confusing you. Your brows furrowed instantly, maybe you weren’t pretty enough to be photographed. You relaxed your body, stopped posing—that was it. At least you tried.

"Take it off." Oscar’s index finger pointed at my jacket, his face continued hidden behind the camera. The view was limited, but his expression remained unreadable—no emotion, all seriousness. Clueless.

"It's freezing cold outside, you're insane." Despite your protest, you did as he told you—just like always, hating yourself for it. Your body leaned against the nearly immense open window, the breeze sneaked through with ease, making your skin shiver. Your face card wasn’t your main attribute, maybe your toned padel body was. Still, you couldn’t quite grasp why he chose you, considering all the contacts and friends he had. Favors were an unbreakable thing between you two, but, of course, you never owed him a thing.

A few more adjustments, and his camera was down again, poker face still tattooed all over him. With slow, measured steps, he walked closer until he stood right in front of you. His mannerisms were always soft and gentle, like he had been written by a woman. Not exactly naive, but delicate enough to make you feel safe and comfortable in his presence.

Oscar set your coat aside, draping it over his vintage couch. His whole place had that aesthetic. You especially loved the Abu Dhabi carpet that stretched across the floor, its deep reddish tones were delightful. His eyes couldn’t help but dart down your slim silhouette. Your white sleeveless shirt, drenched from the rain, clung to your curves, turning entirely translucent against your skin.

Finally, your eyes connected, and you desperately searched for answers, whether in his gaze or through words. The driver was entirely focused on his task, calculating angles, observing the natural lighting, and analyzing your body. Over-analyzing your body.

You knew that look—the one men gave when they stared too long, leaving a disgusting feeling. But Oscar wasn’t like that. Yes, he was staring, but with such admiration and adoration that, for once, you didn’t mind. For the first time in a long time, you felt pretty. Feminine. Reaching that level of femininity wasn’t easy. Padel and sports had always shaped your image, conditioning you to appear tough, stereotypically masculine. But under his gaze, all of that melted away.

You broke eye contact as the staring became too overwhelming for your liking, exceeding your daily dose of attention. You couldn’t just escape him because he was there, and you were working, or something like that. Your breathing hitched, and you involuntarily let out a low gasp at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin. His touch was cold, just like your body. The only warmth came from the fire igniting in your cheeks. His fingers hooked around one of your white straps, which had fallen out of place.

God, you wished you could say a word, anything, but you were petrified.

“You look gorgeous.”

“You just say that hoping I’d say yes to another photoshoot. Your guinea pig.” The back-and-forth banter and sarcastic flirting didn’t end, but now you were playing silly enough to avoid any heartfelt compliment. You didn’t like those types of things because you never knew how to react, especially when they came from him. His contagious laughter filled the room and your world turned upside down.

Something always lingered between you two, and it was the expectedly obvious, taking into account the amount of time you spent together—padel mornings or sometimes afternoons, dinner nights if class ended late, and when he actually managed to wake up to his multiple alarms, cycling together. But it was casual because you never knew what could cross a man's mind; spending a whole day together could mean nothing to them, maybe he even saw you in a sisterly way. So you tried to chill, not giving it much importance—because, again, a compliment could mean nothing.

His free hand found its way to your nape, resting his palm there, barely cradling it. You had no choice but to regain eye contact; he had you cornered with his gaze—physically, too. Any cold once brought by the winter weather had vanished. Your skin was hot, almost burning. Oscar's gaze didn’t reflect frenzy or desire; he looked lost, even stunned.

“Let me kiss you, please.” He murmured hopelessly, his words caressing and sweetening your ears in the most shivering way.

“Oscar, professionally is not the best to-” It was just a matter of seconds before he silenced you in the most cliché way possible. His kisses mirrored his personality—timid and shy, as if he were afraid to go too far. Yet, at the same time, they were sweet and innocent, like a first kiss, completely inexperienced.

Something that you clearly weren't used to.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even more close, letting each other feel how you teetered, how you edged by just a kiss. Your consent gave him more confidence, turning the encounter into something deeper, sloppier. His lips parted against yours with more urgency, the hesitation melting away as the two of you let each other get lost in the moment. His breath was uneven, intoxicatingly mixing with yours. The kiss grew needier, desperate, and hungry. The sound of your teeth crashing messily together was secondary as his tongue brushed against your lips, savoring, tasting, before he dared to explore further. The slick warmth, the breathy sounds between kisses, the way his body pressed against yours—it was thrilling in the best way.

“I never really liked padel that much, nor was I good at it. There was no chance of improving. But you know why I kept coming back.” Oscar's smile emerged in the middle of the kiss, his tone playful, hinting that he knew he’d been doing something wrong just for the fun of it. Paying for extra classes just to see your face more than once a week? Genius move.

“Oh, I'm so gonna kill you.” You warned him, still in disbelief, that he’d been such a fool, especially since you would’ve said yes to any date prior if he’d only had the courage. There was no need for this extreme and unnecessary padel. But, still, seeing him struggle was part of your routine—and you enjoyed it. Not wanting to hear any lame excuses, you pulled him in, deciding to stay glued to his lips for a very long time

[moonlight-alexia]

Starfish and Caitlin comforting Katie after the lose to Slovenia on Facetime.

not really posting/writing atm but i couldn't not do this one <3 so pls enjoy i really hope you do

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

gentle connection ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

‘Mammy!’ You exclaimed when you saw your mammy’s face through the screen of your mummy’s phone. You were on camp with your mummy and you tried to talk to your mammy whenever you got the chance. But mostly you were out like a light from running around with Harper and the other Australia girls all day.

‘Starfish, inside voice remember,’ Your mummy reminded you, you hadn’t had a big day like the last few so you were excited that you were able to talk to your mammy. 

Caitlin had called Katie a bit earlier while Alanna and Kyra were distracting you so your mummy could comfort your mammy a little. They were both lucky, you understood emotions and what other people needed often but sometimes they still need those moments just the two of them. 

‘Hi mammy,’ You whispered, giving a little wave to Katie who was on the other side of the phone. 

‘Hi my little Starfish,’ Katie smiled softly, giving you a little wave back. Seeing you, even if it was through a screen, made Katie’s day a lot better. Your mammy, not that she would really admit it, had been missing you a bit more this camp. A lot for her to adjust to and if it wasn’t for Australia’s kit debut, you would’ve been there with her instead. Something that Caitlin now felt a little guilty about now after seeing how deflated Katie was.

You sat in your mummy’s lap, her arms wrapped around your waist while you happily talked your mammy’s ear off. It wasn’t often Katie was this quiet, but she was more than happy to listen to everything you’d been up to right now. The first time you’d been away from your mammy where you’d barely been able to talk to her, and listening to you talk, the familiarity helped your mammy. 

‘I’m having lots of fun mammy, but I miss you and counting down the days til ‘m home with you,’ Your voice trailed off, you were observant, your mums knew that but they often forgot just how observant and in tune with others you were, that it might become a problem for you later on. 

But now, you gave your mammy a small smile while she told you how much she misses you and can’t wait til you’re all home again, ‘Mummy,’ Your voice cut through the little silence that had floated between the three of you, you turned your head looking at Caitlin. Your mummy hummed a little in acknowledgment, ‘Can I talk to mammy, just me and mammy please,’

Caitlin smiled and placed you down in the middle of the bed, making sure you were all comfy against the pillows. There used to be times Caitlin would feel a tinge of insecurity if you’d want to just talk to your mammy. Perfectly normal, not feeling like she was integrating well into yours and Katie’s dynamic, but she was long over that and enjoyed seeing that bond you had with your mammy, ‘I’ll be right across with Kenzie if you need me,’ 

Your mummy placed a kiss against your forehead before leaving you and your mammy alone. You yawned a little, Katie almost jumping in to suggest you having a little sleep while she stayed on the phone with you, but your voice stopped her before she could say anything, ‘Mummy said you might be a bit sad, you’re more quiet,’ 

Katie gave you a small smile, they tried to be as open with their feelings with you in hopes that when you’d feel safe enough to talk to them about your feelings, ‘It’s been a hard day Starfish. A big loss but seeing you now makes it all better,’ 

Your little eyebrows furrowed while you were thinking, ‘Y’know mammy, mummy lost big too. Yous are the same!’ Katie smiled, a little laugh at the way your eyes lit up when you’d made the connection. Your mummy’s games hadn’t been going all that well either.

‘I guess we are, aren’t we,’ You were happy that you could get a little laugh from your mammy, your efforts to comfort her you believed to have succeeded. You tried to not think too much so you wouldn’t accidentally frown and worry your mammy, but you were starting to realise how hard it was when you were away from either of your mums when they were upset. Wishing they could be happy all the time and never sad.

‘Gonna give you a hug mammy,’ You held the phone against your chest. Katie smiled and, even though you couldn’t see, she held her phone against her chest. To anyone else it might seem strange but to Katie it was really comforting, even though the slight ache in her chest wishing that it was real.

‘I love you Starfish, you give the best hugs,’ Soon enough you’d be home and able to give your mammy a real hug.

[uki01]

Hello!! I have a simple sonic character request if you're open to it!

Okay so what if sonic or shadow (are both!) are with reader and reader decides to take them to go roller skating!

And so they go out to the place, have fun, etc, but when they're roller skating reader accidentally trips over their own skates and crashes into either character falling on top of them!

And then the two get flustered and then continue on having fun!!

Okay this is it!! I hope you have a wonderful day/night/evening/ect!! Love your work 🫶

”Whoopises Daisies!”

Sonic The Hedgehog and Shadow The Hedgehog x Reader (Separately).

Author’s Note: Thanks for the request! I mainly just dis Reader being flustered so sorry for the change!

Warning: Bit suggestive, Sonic being a smug annoying ahh and Shadow being a total flirt, for some reason so might be OOC with Shadow

Sonic The Hedgehog

You suggested this idea, and Sonic immediately agreed, I mean of course you want to go out with him! He’s excited to roller skate with you! (And show off his moves).

You weren’t a pro at roller skating so you had trouble balancing yourself, Sonic slides in and says he’ll help you with a few teases from him but was willing to help you, which you let him!

And it was fun! Until you tripped and lost your balance.

Sonic barely reacted so you just landed on him, unexpectedly.

After you got up and start gaining your vision after collapsing, your face starts to turn red when you realise you are sitting on top of Sonic, who’s also surprised, looked up at you then smirked.

”Well if you wanted to be on top, you could’ve just asked.”

His muzzle was left with a slap on his cheek after he said that.

It was so worth it though, for Sonic at least.

You two just continued with your roller skating, as much as he was annoying and smug to you, you loved every bit of this moment, and so did Sonic.

”This is fun babe, we should do this more often, and maybe keep the falling on top of me for when we are alone together?”

You slapped him again, worth it, Sonic’s words.

Shadow The Hedgehog

You brought up the idea of going roller skating, Shadow did put some thought into it, like he always does and agreed to go.

Shadow was naturally a pro and I mean, come on the guy roller skates and he has.. well… roller skates! Or air shoes as he likes to call them.

And you! You weren’t, so you struggled a lot, so! Shadow insisted he’ll help you, which you let him.

It was all fine and fun until your leg decided to do funny tricks and made you trip.

Shadow didn’t have time to react so he was fell down along with you on top of him.

You sat your upper body up, apologising to him, but Shadow just waves his hand, dismissing the apology from you and decides to drop a flirty line on you and is smirking for once when he looks at you.

”I should be mad… but you feel kinda nice, so I’ll allow it.”

Man, this guy really has you on your knees, resulted in him getting his head backhand by you, which Shadow surprisingly chuckles at when you did that, your face looks like a tomato at this point.

As soon as you two got up, you started skating again with him, and this time watching where your foot steps with Shadow’s assistance and advices.

“Make sure you watch your feet. We don’t want anymore accidents now… or do we?”

You laughed at his attempt to flirt with you and gave him a kiss on the cheek, Shadow smiles (what a rare moment) a little at this, you two enjoyed this very moment and plan on cherishing it forever.

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoyed this one Anon!

[pocketsizedquasar-3]

[ID: 6 panels of a digitally drawn comic showing Daggoo doing twist-outs into Pip’s hair. Pip looks a little nervous through the process, with a warm & encouraging Daggoo, and by the end of it he looks at his reflection with surprised joy. More detailed IDs for each panel in alt.]

i finally finished what i was working on for @creatingblackcharacters’ Black History Month Challenge!

so for those who don’t know, for a few years now i’ve been working on adapting Moby Dick into a webcomic. as you might imagine, a text written by a white man in 1851 is oftentimes Very Racist with how it treats its characters of color, and this very much includes its Black characters, of which there are two of note in the cast, Daggoo and Pip. there are parts of the original text in which Melville tries (and even sometimes doesn’t completely fail) to say poignant things or critiques about racism in the text (and much of the text does very explicitly and intentionally deal w/ racism and racialized dynamics, something literally 99% of adaptations ignore), but for the most part, his nonwhite characters are flat, stereotypical, often violent, racist caricatures.

and i won’t get too much into that here (god knows i’ve rambled at LENGTH abt all of this many times & i will many more), because the point of this challenge is to share art about Black joy, but suffice to say that! I am doing my best to intentionally engage with the race & racism of the original text, whether it’s for characters of my own racial identity that Melville bastardizes (like Fedallah), or those of others (like his Black characters, Daggoo and Pip, and his Indigenous characters, and so on). It’s important to me not only to be in conversation with and to challenge Melville’s racism in my work, but also to allow these characters to be more than the one note racist stereotypes Melville writes them as.

So!!! that’s some long winded context, but here’s Daggoo doing Pip’s hair for him and showing him how! I’m extremely fond of Pip getting to be loved and cared for by others of the crew, especially the harpooners (of whom Dag is one). i just think Pip deserves his comically large number of dads who will care for him and make him feel safe and shelter him from the absolute Horror that is 19th century American Whaling (and the Horror that is their white crewmates!). i just think this little Black boy deserves love and joy 😭😭 and i think Daggoo deserves to be a soft, gentle caregiver who can give that to him.

I have lots more thoughts about this and about them and about their hair which i may expand on under a cut or in the tags, but because this is already getting so long!:

to my Black viewers, and my Black readers, you belong in classic literature spaces! you deserve to see yourselves represented thoughtfully and carefully in the ‘canon’ of literature, and to challenge when you aren’t, and be supported in your critiques! your contributions to both literature as a whole (whether “classic” or otherwise) and to literary analysis and critique are invaluable and irreplaceable, both when you discuss the racism in these works and spaces and when you engage in any other kind of analysis or creation. And I want you to be able to enjoy stories of all kinds without people brushing aside your existence or pretending your concerns are invalid or don’t matter because ~it’s a great classic!~ or ~it was a different time.~ your voices and your creations and your art matter.

& on the smallest scale, i hope at least to bring you a little bit of joy. 

I'm tagging some of my art friends! I know the lateness of this in the month means it’ll be hard for anyone to probably do anything of their own for the challenge, but hopefully y’all can still check out & support all the lovely art that’s already been made for this!! @coulson-is-an-avenger @fricklefracklefloof @layalu @brainwormterrarium @seaflying-fliptuna @rootscorrode @holocephal1 and anyone else who wants to!!

& thank you to Ice for making this wonderful challenge, and thank you for all the lovely, incredible work you do on @creatingblackcharacters. truly a blessing to this world 💖💖

anyway, some more notes, because i can’t help rambling:

i referenced a lot of images & videos of people doing twist outs for this but i wanna shout out the video i watched and rewatched and paused and zoomed in on the Most; it’s by kbmaria on YouTube and called “Twist Out on Short TWA 4C Hair | Big Chop Hairstyles”!! def go check her out :]

i loved looking up 1800s hair combs (and afro picks, though it seems they were all just called ‘combs’) & 1800s sleep bonnets for this! the details of the bonnets kind of got lost in simplification (they really do just look like modern ones but with more lace!) but drawing them and the comb was still fun. i also was looking up specifically a lot of Black hair care history and there is some really cool stuff about the original invention and spread of the hot comb (used for straightening hair) and Black people’s role in that (there’s again more i could get into but i won’t right now but do look it up if you’re interested! the library of congress has a good presentation article with sources about Black hair care history. much of it is later the timeline that’s relevant to these characters in particular, but still very interesting!)

i always defaulted to giving Daggoo an Afro when i designed him (mainly because he’s described with one in the book). over recent years, i’ve definitely thought more about this decision and about whether/how to incorporate different hairstyles into representing him. whaling is a…unique situation—long, long stretches of time (we’re talking months) of extreme lethargy with no tasks to do punctuated by unpredictable short bursts (days to weeks at a time) of incredibly high intensity, life threatening, and laborious work. it leaves lots of time to do more complicated, time-intensive hairstyles (which his hair definitely could benefit from in an environment where he’s getting very sweaty, sea-salty, and wet frequently!), but any of that time could be interrupted at any moment; it’s impossible to Plan for when the whale hunts happen and put your hair in a more protective style ahead of time. i don’t really have a specific answer to this yet, but it’s smthn i’m thinking about a lot and researching a lot! visual historical references we have (that i’ve seen at least) of Black sailors of this time tend to have their hair natural and short-cropped (which is how Pip keeps his), but i def want to draw more hairstyles on Dag at different points.

in any case, i do love the idea of him doing Pip’s hair for him (even if the style will be Very temporary due to the nature of their work — he’ll probably get wet very soon 😔) and showing him how to do different ones. starting with something maybe a little easier to do (like this twist out) and maybe showing more complex ones as time goes on.

as far as hair moisturizers go, ive also done a good amount of reading over the years of what kinds of hair moisturizers were available at diff time periods (did you know lots of victorian women used egg washes in their hair to keep it moisturized? i didn’t). i like to think that Dag keeps his own personal stash of natural oil of some kind — he may have access to coconut oil/cedarwood oil/smthn like that. and if he’s ever in a pinch, apparently whale oil is a fine hair moisturizer! and was even used in cosmetics in the 20th century! so hey. got plenty of that around lmao

i think that’s all i have to say for now lmao. thank you again Ice for making this challenge 💖💖

[jellyjamheadobb]

plot twist I’ve decided I’m going to do all three

you’re welcome 😌

SO since polls have ended I’ll let yall know who is in which

1: Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla Cookie (depresso vers)

6: my ocs Lemon Zest and Lemon Meringue (look at my prev art to see them <3 )

22: Hollyberry in the photo but w/ Princess cookie in the corner bc she was the one who posts it lol

I’m not gonna say which ocs / canon characters are gonna be in which one until after it’s picked and done

have fun bbs ✌️

the pictures btw 👇

6👆

1👆

22👆

[mywomankatarina]

"𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐍𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭'𝐬"

Sevika x f! reader - 𝗔𝗿𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗲

A = Aftercare:

Sevika isn’t overly affectionate, but she’ll make sure you’re taken care of. She’s the type to light a cigarette, pull you against her chest, and casually run her fingers through your hair. If you’re sore, she’ll smirk and tell you to get used to it—but if you really need her, she’ll wordlessly help clean you up and get you water before lying back down with an arm around you.

B = Body Part:

Her arms. More specifically, her metal arm. She knows exactly how to use it—pinning you down, gripping your throat, or holding you steady while she ruins you. She also has strong thighs, and if you ever get the chance to be between them, consider yourself lucky.

C = Cum:

Sevika loves making a mess. She’s possessive in bed, so if she can mark you, she will. Watching her release drip down your body is a sight she enjoys far too much. If she’s feeling particularly filthy, she’ll make you clean it up yourself while she watches.

D = Dirty Talk:

Filthy. Downright sinful. Sevika’s voice is deep, rough, and intoxicating, and she uses it to get under your skin. Expect plenty of praise mixed with degradation—one second, she’s telling you how good you are, and the next, she’s laughing at how desperate you’ve become for her.

E = Experience:

Sevika has been around—she’s had more than her fair share of lovers, and she knows exactly what she’s doing. She doesn’t waste time, doesn’t hesitate, and is always in control. If you’re inexperienced, she’ll take her time breaking you in—if you’re experienced, she’ll make sure you never forget her.

F = Favorite Position:

Against the wall—holding you up with one arm while she absolutely wrecks you.

From behind—with her metal hand pressing firmly against the back of your neck.

Riding her thigh—watching you fall apart on her while she smirks and takes a long drag from her cigar.

G = Goofy:

Sevika isn’t playful in bed, but she does have a dark sense of humor. If you’re struggling to keep up, she might chuckle against your neck and call you cute before giving you exactly what you begged for.

H = Hair:

She keeps herself well-groomed but doesn’t obsess over it. She’s a practical woman—whatever is easiest to maintain without getting in the way of business.

I = Intimacy:

Sex with Sevika is intense, passionate, and raw, but it’s not always romantic. She sees it as an outlet—a way to release tension. But if she genuinely cares for you, you’ll notice the way her hands linger, the way she presses her forehead against yours, or the way she stays a little longer after it's over.

J = Jack Off:

She doesn’t need to often, but when she does, it’s quick, efficient, and purely for release. Sevika prefers to have a partner, but if she’s away for too long, she’ll handle it herself while thinking about how wrecked she’s going to leave you next time.

K = Kink:

Domination & control – She’s always in charge. Always.

Size kink – If you’re smaller than her, she’s going to use that against you.

Overstimulation – She enjoys pushing you past your limits.

Choking – With her hand or her metal arm—she likes watching you squirm.

Teasing – She loves watching you beg for her, dragging things out until you’re a desperate mess.

L = Location:

She’s not shy about where she takes you. Her room, her office, a dimly lit corner of The Last Drop—as long as she has control, she doesn’t care where it happens.

M = Motivation:

Sevika gets turned on by submission, confidence, and neediness. If you’re defiant, she’ll enjoy breaking you down piece by piece. If you’re already desperate for her, she’ll take her time dragging it out just to see how much you can take.

N = No:

Sevika doesn’t do soft, romantic sex unless she truly cares about you. She also doesn’t tolerate bratty behavior unless she’s in the mood to punish you for it.

O = Oral:

Giving – Sevika is a goddamn expert. She doesn’t just go through the motions—she devours you, holds you still, and doesn’t stop until you’re a shaking mess.

Receiving – She loves it. Watching you on your knees, staring up at her with pleading eyes, is enough to drive her wild.

P = Pace:

Rough, deep, and unrelenting. Sevika doesn’t believe in taking it easy unless she’s in the mood to torture you with slow, drawn-out teasing. Either way, she’s always in control.

Q = Quickies:

Sevika loves quickies, especially when she doesn’t have time for a full night of ruining you. She’ll pull you into a dark corner, have her way with you, and leave you breathless and shaking before heading back to business.

R = Risk:

She’s willing to take risks, but only when she knows she can get away with it. She’s had you up against the wall of a back alley before, hand clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet.

S = Stamina:

Absolutely ridiculous. Sevika can go all night, and she has no problem pushing you past your limits just to see how much you can handle.

T = Toys:

Sevika enjoys using toys, especially when she wants to push you further than you can handle on your own. If she’s in the mood to be particularly mean, she’ll tie you up and watch you struggle as she takes her time.

U = Unfair:

Sevika is incredibly unfair. She’ll edge you mercilessly, drag things out, and watch you squirm just because she enjoys seeing you beg.

V = Volume:

She’s low and rough, more grunts, growls, and dark chuckles than anything else. But if you get her worked up enough, you might just hear a deep, broken moan against your skin.

W = Wild Card:

She loves biting. Hard enough to leave marks—your neck, your thighs, anywhere she wants to remind you who you belong to.

X = X-Ray:

Built like a goddess of war—all muscle, power, and raw strength. Every part of her is made to dominate.

Y = Yearning:

Sevika doesn’t crave sex emotionally, but if she wants you, she will have you. If she actually cares about you, though, you’ll notice the way her hands linger a little longer.

Z = Zzz:

She doesn’t stay unless she really likes you. If she does, she’ll pull you against her chest and rest her metal arm over your waist, keeping you right where she wants you.

[puffins-muffins]

What Lovers Do

Pairing: Jax Teller x Female Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 4,768 (I can’t stfu 🫣)

Summary: Jax’s possessiveness and your willingness to push him reveal an intensity that neither of you can ignore. What starts as a playful game of teasing and jealousy turns into a realization that maybe your connection runs deeper than either of you have admitted.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only please, minors DNI, Possessiveness/Jealousy, Semi-Public, fingering, (unprotected - be responsible!) P in V sex, throat necklace, alcohol consumption, cursing, minor fat-shaming (Jax comes to the rescue), slight feels.

AN: this is my first time posting smut, please be kind 🫶🏻 feedback is always appreciated (likes, comments, reblogs 💕) if I missed anything, let me know. enjoy babes!! 😊

You and Jax have never been exclusive. There’s never been a conversation about rules, boundaries, or expectations. You just are. And it’s always suited you both just fine. The things neither of you say, the choices you don’t question, the arrangement you both keep without defining it.

Commitment has never been something you crave. And Jax? He’s got his own demons. His life in the club is full of chaos, full of choices that leave blood on his hands and a weight on his shoulders.

You’ve always understood that, just like he understands you.

That’s why it works. No pressure, no promises, just an unspoken agreement. Random hookups, a place to escape, a moment of quiet when the world gets too loud. Sometimes, Jax comes to you and doesn’t ask for anything except to lay with you, to let your calm settle over him.

And you let him, because whatever this is between you, it’s more than just physical. It’s trust.

But tonight, something’s different.

The wedding of Opie and Lyla gave you the perfect excuse to step outside of your usual wardrobe. It wasn’t often you got dressed up, but tonight you were making a statement.

The dress you’d picked hugged every curve just right, the fabric skimming over your full, voluptuous figure. The neckline framed the soft swell of your cleavage, accentuating the plushness of your chest. The fabric clinging to the curve of your waist, highlighting the flare of your hips. Thick thighs, a perfectly rounded butt, and a hemline short enough to show off the best of what you had to offer.

Judging by the lingering glances and appreciative smirks from the men scattered around, so did everyone else, but those in the inner circle knew you were off limits.

And while others might have been watching, one pair of eyes never left you.

Jax.

He was standing across the room from where you were, beer in hand, the easy conversation with his brothers nothing more than background noise as he watched you. His expression was carefully blank, but his gaze was scorching.

You could feel his stare like a brand against your skin, his jaw tight as he tracked your every move. You could feel it following you, growing darker with every laugh or look you exchanged with a man that wasn’t him.

And you weren’t his. Not officially. But you knew that look.

Possessive. Jealous.

So, you decided to have a little fun with him. You knew it was dangerous to tease like this, but you didn’t care. You looked good and felt good and loved the attention.

And he was watching.

And it turned you on.

You’re mid–laugh, the man in front of you saying something that barely registers in your mind when suddenly, Jax is standing close, his body crowding into yours in a way that makes it clear he’s staking his claim.

“Entertaining guests tonight, darlin’?” he mused, his smirk lazy and unmistakably possessive.

The stranger stiffened, his confidence shrinking under the weight of Jax’s casual dominance. “Uhhh,” he stammers, shifting uncomfortably as Jax’s attention never wavers from you. “I didn’t realize –“

He steps in closer, the heat of him curling around you, that damn smirk still playing across his lips.

“You realize now,” Jax cuts him off, staring at you while he speaks, before glaring back in his direction. A silent warning.

The guy mutters some excuse and quickly backs off, disappearing into the crowd.

You arch an eyebrow at Jax, unfazed. “Was that really necessary?”

His hand snakes around your waist, fingers digging into your curvy hip, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You tell me,” He breathes out, dragging his tongue across his lips as his eyes trace every dip and swell of your body, drinking in the way your dress hugs each soft curve.

“Walkin’ around here lookin’ like that,” he continues, voice dripping with seduction, “smilin’ at guys like you don’t know exactly what you’re doin’.”

You tilt your head, your smile indicating something between amusement and challenge. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” you tease innocently. “I’m just having fun.”

Jax was about to turn away when he stopped abruptly. Without a word, his hand slid down your side, tracing the dip of your waist before he cupped a firm handful of your ass.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your body going rigid for a moment as his fingers flexed against your skin. The warmth of his palm burned through the thin material of your dress – or, more accurately, the lack of anything else underneath it.

The realization hit him immediately.

His grip only tightened, just enough to make your pulse stutter, and then came the lightest, sharpest smack. The sound was soft, but it sent a flutter through you, heat rushing to your cheeks – wetness pooling between your thighs.

He leaned in close, his voice a low rasp as he whispered against your ear. “Well, now… that’s interesting.” It sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps blooming in its wake.

You fought the grin threatening to spread across your face as you tilted your head just slightly, giving him a sidelong glance.

“Hmm,” you hummed. “Interesting? I’d say efficient.”

You feel his fingers twitch against you, as if fighting the urge to grip, to claim. His jaw ticks, nostrils subtly flaring as he exhales the breath he was holding. And for a second, you see it – a flicker of something wild and primal in his expression.

He wants to drag you away right now, to show you exactly who you belong to. The way he looked at you was unbearable, all-consuming – like he was already stripping you bare, mapping out exactly how he was going to wreck you.

His smolder faltered for just a moment before he let out a low chuckle, his tongue swiping over his lower lip as he devoured you with his stare.

But before he can act, a burst of laughter and excited chatter breaks the moment.

Girls from Diosa descend, a whirlwind of perfume and giggles as they grab your arm. “Come on, girl! Let’s dance!” one of them squeals, tugging you away.

You go willingly, but not before looking back at Jax, catching the way his eyes burn into you. His frustration is barely concealed beneath the cool exterior he’s struggling to maintain.

You pout at him playfully, your teeth grazing your lower lip as a slow, knowing smile tugs at your mouth. With a casual shrug, you throw in a wink for good measure. You know exactly what you’re doing. And so does he.

Teasing Jax like this is a dangerous game, but damn if it isn’t a thrilling one.

That signature smirk of his – cocky and effortless – is planted firmly on his face. He tilts his head slightly, running his tongue over his teeth, tapping two fingers absently against the side of his beer bottle. He doesn’t stop you, doesn’t call you back. No, Jax is patient when he wants to be.

But that look he gives you? That easy, infuriating, I’ve already won look?

That’s the warning.

The whiskey spreads through you like fire, warm and intoxicating. The buzz hums in your body, making your limbs loose, your inhibitions slipping further away with each sway of your hips. Laughter bubbles from your lips freely, the excitement of the night pressing against you in the best way.

But what makes the heat burn even deeper is him.

Jax still hasn’t taken his eyes off you. Even as you lose yourself in the music, your body alive with the rhythm, you can feel it – that heavy stare cutting through the space between you. Every time you glance his way, your eyes meet, and the tension pulls tighter.

A song later, the warmth of the dance floor gives way to the cool air by the bar, and you lean against it, skin still tingling, waiting for another drink to keep your buzz going.

And that’s when it happens.

A careless bump – simply hard enough to knock you off balance. Cool liquid splashes down your arm, the sharp scent of bourbon filling the air as it seeps onto the floor.

“Shit,” the guy mutters, shaking off his hand. He’s drunk, unsteady on his feet, but instead of an apology, all you get is an annoyed scoff as he finally looks at you.

His gaze drags down your body before his lip curls into something close to disgust. “Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head. “What the hell are you even wearing?”

His meaning is clear. The way his eyes linger – judging and dismissive. It’s not about the dress; it’s about you in it. The implication stings, but not as much as the arrogance dripping from his tone.

You blink, the hazy warmth of whiskey quickly shifting into irritation. “Excuse me?”

He waves a dismissive hand in your face, his words slurred and full of condescension. “I mean, come on. Look at you.”

You let out a sharp breath, your temper flaring, your shoulders lock as fire flashes behind your eyes. But before you can put this asshole in his place, a shadow looms behind you.

You don’t even have to turn to know he’s there. Jax’s presence wrapping around you like a second skin.

The moment he steps beside you, his hand sliding around your waist, the humiliation burns away. His fingers press into your side – firm and possessive.

Your pulse jumps. The air shifts. And suddenly, you’re not exposed – you’re protected. A silent reminder that you are his.

The drunk finally registers Jax’s presence, his bleary eyes flickering up, and whatever drunken bravado he had before? Gone.

Jax tilts his head, his lips curling into something wicked. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t need to – because the calm way he speaks is even more unsettling.

“She botherin’ you, man?”

His glassy eyes dart between the two of you, panic flickering behind them, unfocused, as he finally starts to grasp his mistake.

“Nah, man,” he stammers, lifting his hands slightly as if that might undo the last thirty seconds. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

Jax hums, slow and thoughtful, his fingers twitch against you. He’s still relaxed, still perfectly in control, but there’s a dark edge to him now.

“That right?” he drawls, tilting his head the other way, his grip on you tightening just enough to send a message. “See, that doesn’t really work for me.”

He stiffens, blinking fast like he’s trying to clear the alcohol from his system. “I – I didn’t mean – “

Jax clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Yeah, you keep sayin’ that” he muses, his tone still deceptively casual. “But what I heard? Was you talkin’ shit to her.”

The guy’s mouth opens, but Jax doesn’t give him the chance.

“So, here’s what’s gonna happen,” he continues, his voice calm, like he’s explaining something simple, like he’s giving the guy a choice when you both know he isn’t.

“You’re gonna look her in the eye,” Jax instructs, tilting his head, that easy smirk playing at the edges of his mouth, though there’s nothing amused about the look in his eyes. “And you’re gonna apologize. And you’re gonna mean it.”

Jax’s fingers tap twice against the guy’s sternum before he steps back just enough to let him breathe – but not enough to make him comfortable. His stance stays loose, shoulders relaxed, but there’s an unmistakable charge in the air, the kind that makes it clear he’s still deciding how this is going to go.

The idiot hesitates just a second too long.

Jax’s smirk fades, his jaw shifting as his tongue runs between his lips, slow and calculating. His fingers flex once and the subtle roll of his shoulders speak volumes.

The guy’s eyes widen. “S–sorry,” he blurts, stumbling over the word as he looks at you, his voice uneasy. “I shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have said that.”

Jax doesn’t respond right away. He just watches, his blue eyes sharp as they give the guy a once over, sizing him up like a predator watching their prey. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.

Then, finally, the corner of Jax’s mouth twitches, his menacing smirk creeping back into place. He tilts his head, exhaling sharply through his nose, his voice taunting.

“There we go,” he says, amusement flickering in his features. “Not so hard, huh?” His hand claps against the stranger’s shoulder, just a little too heavy, before he steps back fully, like he’s already lost interest.

The guy nods frantically, desperate to get out of the situation. “Yeah, yeah, my bad, dude. Won’t happen again.”

Jax doesn’t say anything else, just gives the slightest nod over the man’s right shoulder.

That’s all it takes.

Before he can even process what’s happening, Chibs and Happy are already in motion, leading him away. No fuss, no disruption – a quiet removal, seamless enough that no one at the reception even notices.

Your lips twitch, heat pooling low in your belly as you watch Jax handle it with effortless dominance. The way control rolls off him in waves makes your mouth water with want. Arousal spreads through you like wildfire, licking at your skin, making you hyperaware of every inch of space between you and Jax – space you desperately want to erase.

He doesn’t move for a second. His hand lingers on you – claiming and unmistakable. His fingers tighten at your waist, and then he leans in, his lips brushing just below your ear before nipping at the sensitive skin. “Can’t leave you alone for a second without you gettin’ into trouble, huh?”

His voice is velvet wrapped danger, smooth and lazy. It sends a thrill straight through you.

You turn in his grasp, looking up at him through your lashes, a perfect mix of innocence and desire in your eyes. The whiskey hums through your veins, but it’s not that. It’s him.

The way he stepped in like he owned you, like there was never any doubt.

Your thighs press together in search of relief, pussy fluttering. A deep ache blooming in your belly, needy for him.

Slow and sinuous you lift your arm, winding it around his neck as you rise on your toes. A delicate, teasing kiss lands against his cheek, his beard rough against your lips. Your mouth hovers just over his ear as you whisper, “Call me your damsel in distress.”

Jax exhales sharply through his nose, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. His fingers flex tighter against you, digging in to keep himself steady.

“You want me to save you, darlin’?” His tone is playful, but you hear it – that slow-burning restraint, the control that’s this close to slipping.

You don’t miss a beat. You want him so bad.

“No. I’d rather you fuck me.”

The shift is instant.

Jax stills, a sharp breath hisses between his teeth. His smirk fades – not gone, just different now. Darker. Hungrier.

And then he’s moving – fast. His grip is firm as he grabs your wrist and starts leading you away. Not rough, but absolute. No hesitation.

Just pure, raw intent.

The reception is still buzzing around you, the music, and the laughter – but it all fades as Jax weaves through the outskirts of the crowd, guiding you toward the dimly lit edge of the property. Past the glow of string lights, past the open spaces where people might see.

Then, suddenly, you’re against a wall.

The wood of the garden shed scratches into your back, but you barely register it because Jax is right there, crowding into you – his knee sliding between your thighs, pressing against you just enough to make you gasp.

His hands roam – one gripping your ass, the other curling around your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. In your peripheral, you catch a glint of his SONS ring, a reminder of who he is and what he’s capable of.

His breath is hot when he leans in, laced with beer and nicotine, dizzying. His chest rises and falls faster than usual, his grip tightening as he takes in the way you tremble beneath him. Like he feels it too – the arousal and the hunger.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he growls. His right hand remains on your jaw, keeping your lust blown eyes fixated on him. His other hand gripped tighter against your plush thigh, pressing into the fabric of your dress like he’s debating whether to rip it or slide it up.

You smile slyly at him, still buzzing, still feeling yourself from the whiskey and the way he claimed you before. “A little bit,” you admit, your voice dripping with daring.

Jax lets out a slow, measured breath through his nose, his fingers sliding lower, skimming the bare skin of your plump thigh.

“You’ve been a tease all night,” he rasps, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Watching you, knowing what’s not under this dress?” His fingers pressing into you just a little more firmly.

You swallow hard, pulse racing. Your voice is barely a whisper as you tilt your chin up. “And what are you going to do about it?”

His last shred of restraint snapped, and his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His hands were everywhere – cupping your face, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips as he pressed you firmly against the wall.

“Mine,” he growled against your mouth, the word rough and possessive as his hands slid lower, gripping the curve of your ass, and lifting you slightly so you could feel how hard he was for you.

You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as he buried his face in your neck – lips, teeth, and tongue setting your skin on fire.

"Jax," you choked out, your head falling back against the wall as his mouth traveled lower – sucking, biting, bruising – until your knees threatened to buckle.

But your body had a mind of its own, pressing into him – desperate, aching – your pussy throbbing against the hard length of him, needing more.

“You like this, don’t you?” he hissed as he trailed kisses back up to your neck. “Knowing I’m losing my goddamn mind over you.”

A wicked smirk tugged at your lips, your nails raking lightly down his kutte. “I think you love it,” you taunted. “Knowing I’m just as fucked up over you.”

Jax lets out a low grunt while his hand slipped between your thighs. His fingers found your clit, grazing it teasingly, making you jolt against him.

“Shiiiit,” he draws out, his forehead pressing to yours as he felt just how wet you were for him. “You’re drippin’ for me, sweetheart.”

Before you could retort, Jax yanked you forward slightly, and in one swift motion, he spun you around, pressing your front against the wall. His hands moved, one splayed against your hip, the other slipping back between your thighs – teasing, torturing.

His lips found the nape of your neck, sucking and biting as he pushed your dress up, the fabric gathering around your waist, exposing you completely to him. You’re utterly intoxicated – by his touch, his scent, the unrestrained intensity radiating off him.

You hear the hurried clink of his belt, the rasp of the zipper – and then his finger slides into you – curling just right, pulling a sharp cry from your lips as your legs spread wider on instinct.

Jax grins against your cheek, clearly pleased with himself. “Good girl,” he praises, voice dripping with approval.

Then he pushes another finger inside, his pace steady – driving you higher and higher while his other hand worked himself free.

Your lips parted, a deep moan escaping as you pressed back against him, rolling your hips to feel more of his fingers in your aching cunt. “I’ve been thinking about your cock fucking me all night.” You managed to stutter out as his fingers continued their assault inside you.

“Fuck,” he groaned out, his thumb gliding against your sensitive clit.

You shuddered, arching into his touch as his fingers teased you, spreading your arousal. A needy whine escaped your lips when he pulled away – and a low, cocky grunt rumbled from his chest at you.

But he didn’t linger. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you into position as the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, rubbing and teasing, driving you to the edge of desperation.

“Tell me you want it,” he demanded as he held himself there, teasing – poised to take you.

“I want you, Jax. Please.” you breathed, your fingers curling against the wall as you pushed back against him.

With one sharp thrust, he filled you, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. You cried out, your hands bracing against the wall as he buried himself inside you, his grip on you tight enough to leave marks.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he paused, letting you adjust to him. “You feel so fucking good.”

You could barely form words, your body quivering as you clenched around him, your breath coming in shallow pants. “Fuck, Jax! Please.” you begged again, your voice pleading.

He didn’t need any more encouragement.

He pulled back slowly, the drag of him torturously slow, before slamming back into you. The force of it sent a shockwave through your body, and you moaned loudly, your head falling forward as he set a punishing rhythm.

“Look at you,” he praised, his hand sliding up your side, cupping your breast, the other keeping you steady as he rutted into you. “Taking me so fucking well.”

The mixture of pleasure and the exhilaration of being semi-public had you spiraling quickly, the sounds of your pleas mingling with the faint noise of the party in the background. You were his – and the way he moved, the way he filled you so completely, left no room for doubt.

“Mine,” he growled into your neck, low and possessive.

And in that moment, you knew it was true.

The force of Jax's movements had you seeing stars, your body trembling against the shed as he plunged into you relentlessly. Each motion sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, building tighter until you were barely clinging to sanity.

“Jax,” you mewled, his name spilling from your lips in gasps, your breath catching with every snap of his hips.

Your nails scraped against the surface of the wall as you fought against your impending climax. “I’m close,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as the pressure inside you reached its peak.

He didn’t slow. If anything, your words only egged him on, his pace quickening as he took you, each movement punctuated by his throaty grunts.

His hand snaked up, wrapping gently but firmly around your throat, tipping your head back so his lips could brush against you. “You’re mine,” he growled. “Say it.”

Your breath hitched, the pressure of his hand on your throat sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over you. His movements becoming more desperate and commanding. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed into the night, mixing with your breathless moans and his rough groans.

When you didn’t respond fast enough, he pulled back slightly, just enough to swat at your exposed bottom with his free hand, the sharp sting sending another rush of heat through you.

“Be a good girl,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The combination of his words, his touch, and the unrelenting pleasure coursing through you was too much. You were helpless against his assault as you cried out, “I’m yours, Jax! I’m yours!”

His growl was pure satisfaction, his grip tightening slightly on your throat as he drove into you harder, chasing his own release.

It sent you hurtling over the edge, your body clenching around him as your climax crashed through you, leaving you gasping and shaking in his arms. The intensity of it stole your breath, your cries muffled as his hand slid to cup your jaw, tilting your head back to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

The way you fell apart around him was enough to push him to his own orgasm. With a few more hard, deep strokes – a low, raw groan tore from his chest as he came. His body tensed against yours, his grip unyielding as he spilled into you, marking you in every way he could.

For just a moment, the world was silent except for the sound of your mingled breaths, the faint hum of the party in the distance, a reminder of just how exposed you were.

Jax pressed his forehead against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as he muttered, “Fuck, darlin’. You drive me insane.”

You managed a weak laugh, your body still trembling as you leaned back against him, letting his arms hold you steady. “You love it,” you purred in full confidence.

Jax held you, his hands resting gently on your hips as you both caught your breath. His lips brushed the side of your neck in a way that sent a lingering heat down your spine, the earlier intensity now softened into something more intimate.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough, but laced with genuine care.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes over your shoulder with a small, breathless smile. “More than okay.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up in a grin, and he brushed a light kiss to your shoulder before pulling back just enough to straighten your dress. His fingers lingered on the fabric, smoothing it down over your round hips and curvy ass with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

He backed up, tucking himself back into his pants, fingers working the button and fastening his belt. When you spun around to face him, your eyes met his lazy smile, the night reflected in the spark of his blue eyes.

He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in to steal a kiss that left you breathless all over again. “In case I didn’t mention it earlier, you look fucking sexy tonight, babe,” he husked, finishing his words with a playful nip to your lips.

You giggled softly, pulling away to adjust the sleeve of your dress and run your fingers through your hair in a half-hearted attempt to fix it. “I’m gonna pull myself together before I head back. You should go first.”

Jax’s expression turned wicked, his lips twitching with amusement as he gripped you, pulling you flush against him. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing playfully as he leaned in, his voice dropping lower. “I can’t wait to taste me in you later,” he rasped, the gravelly edge of his tone igniting another pulse of heat in your core, your breath hitching at the sheer filth of it.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with a wide-eyed look before your own lips curled into a teasing grin. You bit your lip, trying to regain your composure as you smoothed down your dress one last time. “I think I’ve had enough of that party for one night. Meet me at my place in thirty minutes?”

His gaze softened, a hint of warmth dancing in his eyes as he lifted a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. “I’ll be there,” he promised, his tone intimate.

He stepped back, running a hand through his hair before adjusting the collar of his kutte, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the tension. There was a confident swagger in his movements, casual and unhurried as he prepared to head back to the party, but the hunger in his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer, before giving you a wink.

You slipped away toward the bathrooms, your pulse still racing and your body buzzing from everything that had just happened. The anticipation of what was still to come was almost too much to handle, but you managed to keep your cool as you disappeared around the corner.

You knew Jax was watching until you were out of sight, a faint hint of mischief still resting on his lips as he adjusted his kutte one last time before heading back to say his goodbyes.

Thirty minutes couldn’t come fast enough.

[pencilpat]

The Scout RED v. BLU sketch pages were fun, I might keep doing that until I run out of steam. Take some Snipers.

Like the Scout ones, some brief related headcanons below.

RED:

-Likes bugs a lot. Will go out of his way to pick up and play with even the 'ugliest' or most dangerous ones. Fond of roaches and beetles. If he could wake up tomorrow and be a beetle, he'd finally be content with life.

-Smokes, both tobacco and weed. He tries to not smoke too much weed though, because if he smells like it he would be easy to track down during battle. Tobacco really helps his nerves and paranoid thinking.

-Sewed animal teeth onto his own hat. He likes his hat a lot, it was a gift from his father. Hunting also reminds him of spending time with his dad & mum, and he likes to go hunt birds to cook, or to go fishing to pass the time off work.

-Enjoys a GNC look sometimes. Considers himself a bit of a girl too, but doesn't really know how to express that to the people around him. "I'm probably nonbinary but I've got a job so idrc about that rn."

-Pierced his ears himself. Has longer, unruly hair that he contains with ponytails and braids. Is very tan because of spending so much of his time outside. Generally dresses in darker clothes during work, as it makes him feel like he blends into the shadows (even though it really makes him stand out a bit more). Always has a slight smile, like he's making fun of you in his head.

-Rarely seen without a weapon of some sort on his person. Also pretty much never seen without his sunglasses on.

BLU:

-Peeked through the brain-scooping-induced veil once and realized he had the same face as someone on the other team. So they scooped his brain even more til it got muddled up. Now he gets frequent, intense migraines and struggles with his balance, and with limb control on his left side. It mostly affects his legs, meaning he can still snipe with good accuracy. He sometimes uses a cane if he feels particularly weak that day.

-Hates his face but can't remember why without his head pounding. He can barely even see it, it feels like. Like a big pixelated mass where it should be. So he covers it a lot, especially during battles and missions.

-Hats make him feel more anonymous. Ranges from very cool ones to the dorkiest bucket hats you've ever seen.

-Likes fishing and nature walks to look for birds. Also goes hunting in the tundra around the BLU base pretty much daily. It's good stress relief.

-Plays guitar, pretty decently too. Also good for stress relief.

-Uses a bow and arrows about as much as he uses his rifle. He hand carves his arrows, wood carving is a very satisfying hobby for him.

-Always seems a little pallid and grey in the face. Especially compared to the deep tan RED Sniper has.

-Cuts or shaves down his hair regularly, only lets it grow back a little. Clean-shaven unless he's doing terribly that week. Has a couple scars that stick around even after respawning. Wears bracelets and necklaces often, though less so during work. Only smiles when he's alone, and in general behaves coldly towards his team.

-Doesn't smoke or drink. Hates the feeling of an altered consciousness.

-Paid his own money for a gun he thought looked better. He's getting tired of being on the losing team all the time.

Bonus

[hulloitsdani]

Fighting for your life with heroes against brand new ones that sweep your team. Henrietta lore? That power she must keep in check? Summoner just won't die. Only in some timelines. and badly. Sharena. Ragnorok?!?! Loki's shenanigans.

Thank you stranger! In no particular order, let’s go through these

First off, OH I LOVEEEEEE BEING IMMEDIATELY PROVEN WRONG ABOUT LOKI. FINALLY. THANK FUCK. The validation I felt when the question of her motives was IMMEDIATELY brought up this book. I don’t care that my read was wrong— what I truly wanted more than anything was something of more substance to read into. As for actual predictions, my bets are that her aims are on bringing about Ragnorok and the end of the gods. For fun. As a treat. For the silly.

As for the actual state of the game, idk man, I play this game weird. I’m both free to play and entirely causal, so it’s entirely up to luck if I ever have any relevant units. In my many years of playing this game, I have never managed to +10 merge a unit that wasn’t a grail unit. So I don’t tend to play game modes where that matters much, with the exception of aether raids sometimes. I like clearing the challenge maps and making the story mode levels really difficult by using strictly Askr trio.

For events outside of that, I have a lot of fun using about one team per six months and trying to creatively use them and their base skills to solve whatever new bullshit is added. The game is clearly not built for you to do that, but I like the challenge it poses. I got really lucky on the CYL7 banner and got all four of the guys from that event. Brave Robin, Corrin, Soren and Gullvieg was my go to team for wayyyy longer than it should have, especially with zero changes to their kits and no merges. Hell I didn’t even have dragon flowers on half of them because Askr Trio building has long stolen most of flower supply. But god was it fun. I know how that group of units play off each other like the back of my hand. And considering how most people tend to just be frustrated with this game’s gameplay, it feels like I must be doing something right. I am constantly broke tho, so rip.

On the lore side, Henriette and Gustav are such a fascinating two for one package for me. Marketable plushies often bought together please don’t separate. The :) to his >:(. They’re both are great rulers and loving partners, but fumbled a bit in their parenting in ways that make total sense. For you see, I am a firm believer that everyone walks out of their childhood at least a little fucked up. Even the best parents are still human. And I adore Askr’s royal family unit, because it digs into that idea! Henriette and Gustav weren’t abusive or harboring malicious intent, but they were neglectful and lacking in ways that cannot be denied. Which is extremely cool! More of this please and thank you.

Looping back to the quote in question, to be perfectly honest, I would be pleasantly surprised if we ever got answers for her day of devotion alt voice lines. However, Gustav having a wife with the power to kill him easily would be so fucking funny. Like father, like son. If your romantically coded life partner can’t theoretically ensure your body is never found, what’s even the point. She doesn’t even need to be secretly divine or anything— I would be satisfied with her being something as simple as an abnormally strong mage. She can accidentally fold people like an omelet if she’s not being careful. Which, now that I’m putting that into writing, might contribute to her relationship with her kids.

Speaking of, Sharena!!! My best friend Sharena!!! I’ve got a multitude of thoughts cooking for her, but currently the one at the forefront is making home girl jacked as hell. Not joking. Dead ass. We all know the role she plays on a personality level— she’s the heart. The emotional glue that keeps these loner trickster types together and in check. But considering that this is the theater of war and everyone else has a role to play, I think it could be interesting if she was the beefiest fighter in the Askr trio. She’s able to dedicate the time fully to that craft, you know? She’s not balancing the responsibilities that arise from being the Order’s commander, tactician, or right hand man/history buff. Not to mention she was trained to fight by Bruno, who presumably played the role of group muscle before her. Therefore, when it comes to feats of physical strength, Sharena should be the Order’s go-to lady! I think it would be neat! She deserves the ability to easily carry her commanding officer and beat Alfonse’s nerdy ass in an arm wrestle.

Last but certainly not least, summoner bad ends! What could possibly go wrong? A lot, apparently. And it happens much more often than you’d expect.

See, I don’t think it’s that the summoner cannot die. Polar opposite, if anything. Each success is built upon the littered corpses of millions of failures. This idea loops back to the alternate version of Askr the group finds in book 3. In order to defeat Hel, they must loot the corpse of a dead world. By its very nature, not every summoner has an alternate corpse to loot. At least half of all realities where the summoner exists results in death and ruin by book 3 ALONE. This is saying nothing of all the dangerous odds they must beat from then to book 9. Just pulling one example off the dome, in order to defeat Gullveig, they had to die a truly eldritch and inconceivable amount of times. But we the audience don’t bear witness to that. We get to see the one world with the one summoner who is hitting those fraction of a fraction odds. The universe’s luckiest bastard. Others are not so lucky.

[charliedawn]

Hi Charlie! I recently came up with an interesting idea about the Hannibal family. The reader (the murderer) somehow found out that the Hannibal family were cannibals (maybe she was friends with Peter and he admitted it to her) and she decided to give them a present. How will they react when she comes in with a live connected person and says, "I wanted to surprise you, but, I didn't know which organ do you love, so I brought you a whole person” 😁

Hannibal Lecter Sr.

He’d be pleasantly surprised but would mask his amusement behind a polite, knowing smile. He'd step forward, examining both you and the terrified person you brought with a certain curiosity.

"My dear little lamb, what a…thoughtful gesture. One does not often acquire such an exquisite present without great trouble. Tell me, how did you acquire them ?"

He would take this as an opportunity to assess your potential. If you did it cleanly, efficiently—he’d be impressed. If it was messy and impulsive, he’d chuckle and offer you a bit of guidance, like a refined mentor shaping a promising protégé. Either way, he definitely considers this a sign of loyalty.

Hannibal Lecter Jr.

He’s find this fascinating. His eyes would settle with interest on the future dinner, and he'd step around the person like an artist inspecting a fresh canvas.

"A whole person, indeed…a truly generous gift. But the question remains—do you know how to carve, or shall I teach you ?" He said before taking out a knife and the person started screaming in fear—muffled of course.

Hannibal Jr. wouldn’t waste this opportunity to test you. If you show hesitation, he’d smirk, amused. If you show skill, he might actually let you assist in the preparation. Regardless, this is a bonding moment for him—proof that you belong in his inner circle.

Morgan Hannibal

Morgan would be the most pragmatic about it. He'd remove his gloves, exhale sharply, and give you an evaluating look.

"You’re either very bold or stupid. Either way, I like it."

He’d check the victim’s vitals, ensuring they’re still fresh and worth consuming. Then, he'd gesture for you to follow him into the kitchen. He’s not wasting a good resource. But this also tells him something important: you’re willing to go to extreme lengths for them. He won’t forget that.

Kevin Hannibal

Kevin would burst into laughter. Not just a chuckle—full-blown, incredulous laughter.

"Oh, princess, you really did that ? For us ? For me ? That’s…that’s insane—I love it." He’d walk up to you, tilt his head, and grin. "Did you enjoy it ? Did it feel good ?"

He’s way more interested in your experience than the meal itself. He might even praise you.

Him *smiling at you* : "Are you trying to impress me ? Because it’s definitely working."

Peter Hannibal

Peter…oh, Peter would cry. He’d look at you with wide, teary eyes, his hands clasped together.

"You—you did this for us ? You’re the best !"

He would immediately hug you, completely ignoring the horrified victim you dragged in. He’s just overwhelmed by how much you care. No one’s ever done something this meaningful for him before. It wouldn’t even occur to him to question your methods—he’s too busy adoring you.

Message from Author:

You have officially won the Hannibal family’s favor. They now see you as one of them. Whether that’s a blessing or a curse…well, that depends on how much you enjoy their company.

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Stretched (Part 1)

aka a filthy rolan x cleric postgame concept that I might write one day but in the meantime desperately want to get out of my brain and onto the page. EDIT: HAHAHAHA never mind, I wrote it. fuck me. Here you are, 1324 words and only part one!

ft fingering, “do assholes really work like that? we ignore it for kink reasons” and the BG3 equivalent of medical kink. Mild dubcon for "Rolan's having a great time but a healer shouldn't be enjoying fingering your asshole this much"

Rolan’s settled into the Tower; theoretically he has everything he wants. Apart from Tav, that is; he nursed a sore crush on them for a long time— ever since they saved his siblings— and has only just come to accept that they’re never coming back from Waterdeep. (… Several months after their wedding to Gale). Tav’s presence, however, awoke a very long-neglected (and repressed) part of him, and now though he thinks less often of them when he handles himself… he still handles himself often. Could it be the Archmage still needs something in his life beyond the Tower and his siblings?

He finds it, with some shame, behind the counter at Sharess's Caress. In disguise, of course; he doesn't want the city to know he's buying toys... especially not toys of this size. Rolan doesn't start with the largest ones, but as his hopes of Tav grow fainter, he finds himself seeking more and more challenge, more punishment for his aching, gaping hole. He loves to imagine them stretching him, taunting him for pining over them - claiming him as their own. And now that's receding, he still finds himself addicted to the sensation, barely able to come unless he's struggling on a cock far thicker than his own.

The figure that the cleric sees, coming through her door, is stiff with embarrassment, a violently crimson flush revealed on his cheeks as he casts off his Dragonborn disguise to show the tiefling underneath. Not just any tiefling.

‘Archmage,’ she says in recognition, keeping the note of amusement she feels hidden. She’s a professional, after all… although whatever ailment he has come to her with must be rather delicate, especially when his title makes him flush further and insist on being called by his name only. After a fair amount of evasion, and the confirmation that she is as discreet as every one of her previous clients has said, she at last pries out his problem: he fears he has stretched himself.

‘Using what implements? What are the symptoms?’

‘What other symptoms do you need?’ he hisses, before catching himself. ‘I know how it is supposed to feel.’

‘Is this immediately after use of toys, or…?’

‘I am not an idiot— I know to expect it after—but this feeling persists near-constantly.’ His voice drops, and she sees the true mortification and worry behind his bluster. It’s… more than professionally interesting. Poor man. She will make his embarrassment worthwhile.

‘Remove your trousers, and get on the bench. I need to examine the situation.'

He casts an anxious look at the door before he disrobes, and she asks if he'd like it locked; his shoulders drop a little when it is.

'Have you cleaned up, or should I—'

Rolan conjures a Prestidigitation faster than she can finish the sentence.

'Do not misunderstand,' he disclaims. 'I came prepared— I am merely being cautious—'

She can hear the irritable sound of him swallowing his nerves, and pats his bare ass gently. There's a slight hitch in Rolan's breath.

'Don't worry about it. Now.' She takes the base of his tail in his hand, and he draws another sharp intake of breath. If she had to label his affliction as anything, she would be inclined to say it was starvation. He is so hungry for her touch, that the slightest movement makes him shiver... and between his legs, his cock is beginning to stiffen.

Rolan clenches his thighs as she moves his robe out of the way, drawing his tail up so she can get a good look at his hole.

'Are you wearing this every day?' she asks, tapping the plug in his entrance.

It is rather basic, compared to the rest of him. His hair is beautifully twisted, and his elegant silk robes are drenched in expensive silverwork. But the plug is plain; not a jewel or crest in sight. Perhaps he is too ashamed of this hobby to let himself truly indulge in it. (A shame in itself, when the plug sits so prettily between his lovely, pert cheeks).

'Yes,' he admits.

'Mmm.'

'I have to!' he protests irritably. 'Otherwise, I can think of nothing else but the sensation of it. Being open—'

'I understand,' she says soothingly. 'I'll have to remove it for now.'

'Of course,' Rolan whispers, tensing his thighs even harder.

She puts a hand on one. 'Relax. Otherwise this will be more difficult.'

He lets out a choked whimper— but he does as he's told, and he keeps relaxing, with the utmost effort, until the plug is drawn from his hole.

There's no denying he's hard now. The cleric oils her fingers, presses one easily inside to begin the examination.

'One easy,' she murmurs, pushing it further up until she finds his pleasure spot. It feels healthy; in fine working order, if Rolan's gasp is anything to go by. She curls her finger a little more.

'Fuck!' Rolan whimpers. 'I mean— Zurgan— excuse me.'

‘Don’t worry about it. Just stay relaxed. I’m going to see how easily you accommodate wider objects.’

She presses another finger in, appreciating the heat inside him. Tieflings always run hotter than other humanoids. The lack of hair is very pleasing too— perfect for someone as neat and ordered as Rolan clearly is. The oil slicked on her fingers spills down his taint; she pauses for a moment, and takes a washcloth to wipe him clean.

Rolan’s asshole might be a little stretched, but she still feels it tense urgently around her. He lets out a short whimper, stifling it unsuccessfully with a cough.

‘Keep your tail up,’ she murmurs, as if she hasn’t noticed.

‘Yes— ’

Three fingers. Rolan shakes. She didn’t encounter much resistance, but clearly the act of being probed is rather stimulating for him, stretch or not.

‘Let me see.’ She gathers all four fingers, pressing them against his entrance— now, there is a little resistance— and checks to see how Rolan is taking it.

The moment he realises she’s looking at him, his cock twitches, and he panics, pulling away from her examining fingers.

‘Surely that’s enough,’ he gasps, dragging at the tails of his robe to hide his cock.

‘I need to determine the extent of the problem, if you want me to treat it properly.’

His tail flicks as he looks back at her. ‘Wretched Hells. Just how much are you going to put up there?’

The attempt at nonchalance comes out thin, breathy instead of confident. She can’t help but find him a little fascinating; easily embarrassed and yet pretending to be bold. And all over something so mild; she has treated people with far stranger ailments. Once again, she wonders if he perhaps only needs somebody else to make him feel that this is alright. Not that it matters at the present.

‘I’m going to find your limit,’ she says. ‘When it hurts, say now.’

Rolan pauses, and cedes, raising his tail once more to reveal his worked hole. His claws curl anxiously into the bench leather. ‘I am ready— ah— ah— ah— now!’

All four fingers and thumb, but not even close to the knuckle. Whatever monstrous girths he thinks he’s been stretching himself with, she is sure he could take quite a lot more— with practise and encouragement of course.

‘That’s the examination finished then,’ she tells him. ‘Let me clean you up.’

Again, she presses a gentle cloth to his skin— all the way down to his balls this time. He shivers, whimpering at her touch and not even trying to hide it this time. Too far gone, perhaps.

She notices a drip from his cock beneath him on the bench, and cleans that up too. Not the cock that it came from, though; that is his concern, even if he seems to anticipate it when she reaches beneath him.

‘Now,’ she murmurs, washing her hands off. ‘I’ll just consult my notes, and make you up a treatment salve.’

‘It is curable?’ Rolan asks.

‘Oh, certainly. I’ll explain what you have to do.’

[cybrasigilism]

No Return, No Reason (Squid Game + Yellowjackets AU)

contains: NICHE AU POST | yellowjackets x squid game world swap | these are my interpretations of these characters, please be respectful even if my opinions on the characters differ from yours

A/N: IVE HAD THIS AU IN MY HEAD FOR SO LONG NOW ITS PAINFUL. i really love both yellowjackets and squid game, so this is a passion project if nothing else. this post serves as an introduction the characters in this AU :P

ENJOY

⚽️ THE TEAM ⚽️

➻ cho hyun-ju (#5). the team’s defensive midfielder. her tactical skills are as strong as her footwork, allowing her team to rely on her during a cut-throat game. her collected, yet tenacious, nature has led the team to many victories— including the finals.

➻ choi “thanos” su-bong (#7). one of the team’s two wingers. his hot-headed attitude carries onto the field well, letting him become an absolute menace to the opposing team. on his own, he’s strong, but when he’s paired up with nam-gyu, the team’s second winger? yeah, they’re lethal.

➻ kang dae-ho (#1). the goalie. dae-ho takes his job of defending their team’s net extremely seriously, you’d have to enlist a military to drag him off the field before he gave the opposing team an easy opening to score. he isn’t just the goalie though, dae-ho may very well be this teams biggest cheerleader, on and off the field.

➻ nam-gyu (#10). another one of the team’s two wingers. he’s at his most aggressive when paired up with thanos. when his buddy’s been benched for messing with the opposing team and he’s on his own, nam-gyu isn’t much of a threat at all. he talks a big game, and may seem scary when he’s got thanos around, but his low self-esteem and lack of self confidence puts him at odds on the field when he has to fend for himself.

➻ kim jun-hee (#2). the centerback. don’t let her standoffish demeanour fool you, jun-hee is silent, but deadly. opposing teams should always watch their backs when she’s on the field, because just when they think they’re about to score a goal— BAM, jun-hee swoops in with a surprising defence for someone of her stature. small but mighty, silent but deadly; that’s player #2 in a nutshell.

➻ se-mi (#6). the central midfielder. arguably, the most interesting part of each play lies in se-mi’s hands, seeing as her position takes control of the centre of the game. her team leans on her for the win, but she almost never gets the credit that hyun-ju does. that doesn’t bother se-mi though, her one goal is to play like a team and win.

➻ lee myung-gi (#4). the team’s attacking midfielder. the yin to hyun-ju’s yang on the field. for someone with such an important position in the game, the other defenders will often have to jump in and save any potential goals he might miss. myung-gi often gets flack from his more hot-headed teammates for “screwing them over”, but he thinks they should cut him some more slack— after all, it’s a high pressure situation!

➻ gyeong-su (#9). the teams striker. while he may not be the fastest, and his footwork may be lacklustre at worst— gyeong-su does one thing right and that is scoring. he’s usually the one to cover myung-gi’s ass at the most nail-biting parts of the play, but unlike most, gyeong-su never gives him a hard time for it.

➻ kim young-mi + park min-su. these sweethearts mean well, but due to their poor performance in the games as initial players, they often serve as substituting benchwarmers. while nam-gyu and thanos might mock them for this, don’t think for a second that will dull their team spirit. even while on the bench, the loudest cheers can be heard from these two backing dae-ho with their “rah-rah” behaviour.

COACHES (etc.)

➻ seong gi-hun + hwang in-ho. these two co-coach the team, and they do it with a “good cop/bad cop” dynamic. gi-hun is more skilled with pre and post game pep-talks, lifting spirits after a particularly rough match and boosting morale overall. in-ho rules over the team with more of an iron fist however. he’s extra hard on his players, and claims that if it weren’t for him, they wouldn’t have even touched finals qualifications. gi-hun could argue that in-ho is a bit too hard on the players, but the success rate of the team is more in in-ho’s favour.

➻ park jung-bae. assistant coach. the team all show clear favouritism to jung-bae for his carefree and easygoing nature. think of him like the fun uncle to the parental dynamic that the two head coaches bring. need snacks after practice, or someone to craft fun signs to rally the team? jung-bae is your guy. his positivity is contagious, and was a necessity during the finals-qualifying game.

➻ seon-nyeo. equipment manager. while she may simply be in charge of supplying the equipment, seon-nyeo firmly believes her “involvement” in the team is just as significant as the coaches. she prays for the team before every game, and while the skeptics may side-eye her for this, with how many wins the team has under their belt— how can her involvement be anything but significant?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR INDULGING ME! this’ll not be the last you see of this AU, i don’t care if it “doesn’t make sense”, IT MAKES SENSE TO ME AND ILL MAKE IT EVERYBODY’S BUSINESS!

as always, any constructive criticism/advice on how to improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fantastic day/night lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @kouzih @strangelife122 @agornotsworld @kvstjwonnie @room-722 @marymustdie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga @wonestro @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet

[oysternymph]

Vil x reader

‘How to amuse a queen’

Notes: Yuu is gender neutral and as such they/them pronouns are used, not beta read, fluff, slightly ooc. He/him pronouns are used for Vil. This is an older fic that I’m reposting for my twst x reader series, I hope it’s enjoyed!

Wc: 1,420

Vil seemed to take an interest in a lot of things. Makeup and fashion were always the first to come to mind. Aside from him being the spokesperson for multiple famous brands, he was always giving people advice on how to look like their best self, regardless if they asked for it or not. He also was very passionate about music and dance, being trained in ballroom dancing from the moment he could walk and always sharing whatever new artist he was into with his friends.

Another thing Vil adored was film, regardless if it was making his own, starring in a film, or simply watching them. According to Rook, his dearest house-warden was simply appalled when he arrived at Night Raven College and saw that there wasn’t a film club. The first thing he did on campus was establish one. Oftentimes, Yuu was dragged along or asked to help out with the club. Though, they didn’t seem to mind; even if Vil was a perfectionist, any time spent with him was well spent.

Once a week, the club would vote on a movie to watch and then they’d watch it on the weekend while working on props. While not a club member, Yuu joined the club every weekend unless they were studying. And due to being around the house-warden, Yuu noticed something: they had never seen Vil laugh. Not even once. Occasionally, his lips would curve up into a gentle smile, but nothing more. He didn’t even laugh during comedy movies, perhaps they weren’t his style of humor but they had even seen Leona and Malleus laugh before. And yet, they couldn’t ever recall Vil laughing.

While Yuu tried their best not to dwell on it, they couldn’t help but think about how Vil’s laugh would sound. Perhaps he didn’t laugh because his laugh was ugly? Everything about Vil was perfect, if he had one flaw, aside from his jealousy, it might be his laugh! After all, for example, Sebek tried not to laugh often due to him having a snorting laugh. Maybe Vil’s was similar?

Despite that thought, it seemed unlikely. Vil wouldn’t hide his laugh even if it wasn’t a pleasant sound. Maybe he just didn’t find a lot of things funny. But even if that was the case, Yuu couldn’t understand how he didn’t even laugh during the most crazy scenarios.

Today, Yuu was on their way to Pomefiore as they had asked Vil for help with potionology. But the real reason for their visit was to make Vil laugh. For starters, they had asked Lilia to help them get a goofy outfit. They were wearing bunny slippers, nerd glasses, sweatpants and a top that had a terrible cat pun. This would easily make anyone laugh, or at least hold back a chuckle. It had to pull some sort of reaction out of Vil! As they finally entered the dorm and entered their lounge room, they saw Vil sitting on his throne as usual, reading one of his many fashion magazines.

“Hi, Vil.”

“Ah good, you’re here just on time-WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?!”

Vil dropped his magazine, rushing over to the shorter student as he took the glasses off of their face and looked them up and down with a displeased expression.

“Oh uh…I just thought I should dress comfortably if we’re studying.”

“This isn’t comfortable. This is a fashion disaster. Do you even need glasses?”

“Nope, but they make me look smarter.”

“Who even told you such a lie?”

Before Yuu could answer, Vil took hold of their wrist and dragged them to his room.

“I don’t care if you want to be comfortable, you could still put effort into your appearance!” the taller man shouted as he dug through his closet, pulling out a cropped purple shirt and a pair of flared leggings, and holding them out to the fellow junior.

“Here. Get dressed in this then we can start your studies.”

Yuu sighed as the house-warden left. Plan number one was a complete bust, but that was okay. Yuu was in this for the long haul. They had plenty of tricks up their sleeve. Once they were dressed in Vil’s clothes, the student decided to look around his room for a moment, after all it wasn’t every day Vil allowed someone into his bedroom. As expected, his room was stylish and grand, fit for a queen one could say.

Yuu walked over to his vanity, gently picking up one of the many skincare bottles on the table. A rice water toner…made by Vil Schoenheit. Was this the product Yuu wanted to ask for another bottle of? At the moment, they just couldn’t remember. Their train of thought was quickly cut off as Vil opened the door, sighing as he saw the student was distracted.

“Yuu, what in sevens name are you doing?”

“Just looking through your stuff.”

“And why would you be doing that? We need to study.”

“...Vil, can you do my makeup?”

The queen raised his eyebrow, walking over to the student and placing a hand on their shoulder.

“Why? You never seemed all that interested in this kind of thing before.”

“Mmm…I was just thinking. Makeup is usually used to change features, but it can be used to enhance existing features as well, right? I wanna try that style of makeup.”

Yuu was slightly taken aback when Vil walked away and into his bathroom, only to return with multiple different makeup products and all sorts of odd tools. Without saying another word, Vil began to apply some sort of sticky serum onto Yuu’s face, causing them to wince slightly.

“It’s just primer, calm down. It helps to make foundation and concealer smoother to apply.”

“Okay…”

For the most part, the sensation of having a handsome man grabbing at your face while he applied makeup was pleasant. Even when Vil would click his tongue in slight annoyance when Yuu’s eyes would flutter at the touch of a brush, he simply continued onward.

That was, until it was time to apply blush. Vil gently swiped some powdered blush onto a large brush, and then began to blend it onto Yuu’s skin. only to stop when he heard soft giggling come from the shorter student.

“What’s wrong?”

“It tickles! Is it supposed to feel like that?”

“No, but it isn’t uncommon. Rook said the same thing the first time I did his makeup. You’ll get used to it. Now hold still.”

Despite their best efforts, Yuu just couldn’t seem to do as Vil commanded. Giggling and moving slightly every time the house warden ghosted the brush over their face.

“Just stay still! How hard of a request is that? I’m going to get blush all over your face if you keep this up!”

“It’s not easy! I’m trying! I mean, how would you feel if someone was doing this to you?”

“I’ve never been ticklish, especially not my face.”

“...So you’re not ticklish?”

Vil slowly put down the makeup brush, taking a step away from Yuu as they stared at him with a mischievous grin. The magicless student stood up, quickly rushing at Vil who in turn tried to run away. But it was too late, Yuu managed to grab Vil’s arm and pulled him close, ticking his neck and stomach.

Vil gritted his teeth, trying his hardest to pull away from the shorter student. Vil was one of the strongest people at Night Raven College, if he wasn’t being so viciously attacked he could have easily pulled away, but instead he was trapped. Not being able to hold it in any longer, Vil let out a loud sound.

“Gwahahahahaha! Stop it! I’m telling you to stop!!!”

With a satisfied grin, Yuu let go of the housewarden, who instantly began to catch his breath.

“W-Why did you do that?!”

“I mean you kinda set yourself up for that. And I wanted to hear your laugh. Even your laugh is queenly.”

With a flushed face, Vil placed both of his hands on Yuu’s shoulders, staring down at the student before suddenly ticking them back.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“See?! It’s not so fun when you’re on the receiving end!”

As soon as Vil stopped tickling Yuu, the student leaned onto him, still laughing as they came down from their high. Vil didn’t push them off, letting them rest on him instead. Once Yuu had calmed down, Vil gently entwined their hands, looking away from the student as he spoke.

“We…should start your studies. Come along now.”

“Hehe…Okay.”

[fishnapple]

Hi River, I hope you are doing well! I love reading your input on the different astrological placements, its what I look forward to every week 😆Thank you so much for answering our queries <3 I would love to hear your thoughts regarding moon opposite saturn in the natal chart if possible!

Hello, thank you for your kind words.

Moon opposite Saturn

For Moon opposite Saturn, I would think of four key words : Vulnerability, Nourishment, Slowing down and Stability. There can be struggles and opportunities for growth in these four areas.

Moon is changeable, vulnerable and needs lots of nourishment, but with Saturn oppositing it, Moon can feel like its needs are not met. That there's is something "improper" about its needs, that it need to regulate and act more "grown-up" to not disappoint a "critic", often of their own. Saturn puts restrictions on Moon.

If the person lacks maturity and enough self-awareness, this placement can hinder their emotional growth. Their early environment might not be very encouraging of their emotional display, so they learnt to bottle everything up. The person might need to learn self-parenting early in life. To be self-reliant and independent. To perform to a perceived set of rules and standards.

Inside, they can feel oddly vulnerable, as if everything has the ability to hurt them. But outside, they project a stoic, sometimes cold demeanor as a defense mechanism against hurt. Crying or strong display of emotions, whether joy or sadness, disappointment or anger, all are avoided.

TW: *mentions of possible eating disorder* As a manifestation of Saturn's restrictive nature affecting the Moon, some can feel the lack of appetite frequently. Some can feel hungry but don't want to indulge. Or don't like the act of eating. They might put restrictions on their diet and would feel guilty when they "binge" on something. They don't allow themselves to let "loose" and enjoy things completely. A more healthy expression is they take nutrition seriously and are discriminating about what they eat.

As they grow older, they learn to get more comfortable with their emotional side and be more relaxed, able to let loose more. A mature manifestation of this aspect is their emotional dependability and stability as they know how to regulate their emotions effectively. Another trait is once they're emotionally committed to something or someone, they stay faithful for a very long time, only pull away when their trust is broken.