#intimacy is also a... not scared of intimacy on its own BUT is scared of what will happen to who he has an intimate connection with

[ultfan]

BOLD any fears which apply to your muse. Italicize what makes them uncomfortable.

tagged by: @caramialunaestelle

the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces.  change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning.  suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural. heights. death. dying.  intimacy.  rejection. abandonment. loss.  the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched. sex. chains.  inner demons. hallucinations. staring. going berserk. betrayal.

tagging: @schxdenfreude (sayo or ii), @anticutes, @downspirals (finn), @rabbitraw, @hickeyed

[whizzing-fizzbee]

I’ve never seen anyone use this but can you do a fic about first time Ominis, and he slowly drags his wand down MC’s body to see her

Hi anon! I loved this request and hope it's what you were aiming for. I love when intimacy becomes much more than standard smut.

I'll Look After You

Ominis Gaunt x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit / MDNI (all characters are 18+) Words: ~3450 Summary: After you told your boyfriend, Ominis Gaunt, that you're ready to advance your relationship to the next level, he's nervous, especially since he can't see you. You show him you'll always be there to look after him. Tags: F/M, second person POV, reader insert, no y/n, smut, loss of virginity Notes: Characters are 18-year-old seventh-years.

Read below the cut.

Ominis Gaunt was easily overstimulated. That came as no surprise to those who knew him, given his sensitivity to sound and touch. Though he could not see, he always seemed to be acutely aware of everything happening around him.

That’s why the sound of the pelting rain already had him on edge. It’s not that he disliked rainfall; in fact, it often soothed him. But tonight, its harsh drumming against the extravagant windows of the Great Hall made him tense. 

Ominis didn’t fear much these days. After all he’d been through, fear was an asinine concept. He’d survived a grueling childhood full of torture and torment. He’d watched his parents turn his siblings into pawns — all part of their grand chess match to maintain pureblood status. He’d lost his beloved Aunt Noctua to Salazar Slytherin’s sinister games. Then he’d watched his own best friend delve into the dark arts in desperation to save someone too damaged for repair. 

But the most terrifying task Ominis had faced was you. You scared him more than any unforgivable curse or secret scriptorium. You were the only force that threatened to dismantle the great Ominis Gaunt, because you were the only person he loved. 

But lucky for him, you loved him back. 

Your relationship blossomed from the close bonds of friendship (rooted with traumatic ties, thanks to Sebastian Sallow) to a trusting romance crafted with quiet intimacy and mutual adoration. The past three months had been a daunting whirlwind of beautiful moments, but the most intimidating one was yet to come. And that’s why Ominis Gaunt was presently sweating over his roasted potatoes at dinner. 

You were enjoying dinner at the Ravenclaw table, blissfully unaware of the war raging inside Ominis’ head. Or so he thought. In truth, you knew your boyfriend well enough to detect his trepidation days ago.

It started the previous weekend, when you and Ominis spent a quiet, cozy evening in the Undercroft. Sebastian had gone to Feldcroft, leaving your shared secret space reserved just for you and Ominis. It was then that you mentioned to Ominis you were ready to advance the nature of your relationship.

“Wh-what?” he stammered at your revelation. You smiled at him, though his cloudy eyes stared straight ahead.

“I think we should have sex,” you said, your tone steady and bold. “Don’t you?”

Ominis fiddled with the sleeve of his robe as he searched his mind for something to say. The honest, unabashed answer was yes – an irrefutable, resounding yes. But there was more to it than that. You knew that, but you also knew Ominis would be too apprehensive to say so.

He was a virgin. You weren’t, thanks to the summer before your sixth year when you had a fling with Garreth Weasley. You told Ominis so and he didn’t mind, though you knew that made the task even more daunting for him. You had something, someone to compare him to. Ominis had spent his entire life being told he didn’t measure up to his family’s lofty standards and demands; what if you decided the same?

“I suppose so,” Ominis admitted carefully. “But you know… you know I’ve never-”

“I know,” you interjected with a gentle tone. “And I promise, I’ll look after you. I always do, don’t I?” 

Ominis nodded in silent agreement. He knew you would take care of him. You’d always gone out of your way to help him, whether it was fetching his ingredients during Potions class or helping him tie his shoelaces – without magic – because you enjoyed small acts of service to show him you cared. Ominis didn’t need your help – he had his wand for guidance and magic for completing tasks – but he allowed you to assist when you offered, because it was a mutual form of intimacy that had nothing to do with physical touch.

But now, you wanted physical touch. Ominis did, too – he’d wanted that since the day he met you, when his wand signaled something special about you when you neared. Sure, he nearly took your head off when he scolded you for daring to set foot in the Undercroft (again, Sebastian’s fault) but even then, something about your presence made Ominis stutter. Now that you were his, he spent a distressing amount of time thinking about you on a much more erotic level.

So now that you’d voiced your desires, Ominis had spent the past five days nervously preparing. You hadn’t pressured him – hell, you hadn’t even brought up the topic of sex since that evening in the Undercroft, but Ominis knew it would happen tonight. Sebastian was leaving for London to visit Anne at St. Mungo’s for the weekend. 

Neither of you discussed it. There was no need. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that it would happen tonight, and you were both preparing in your own ways. 

Ominis was desperate to ensure everything would be perfect. Though he didn’t come across as a romantic at the surface, he’d fight like hell to make you happy. Of course, you regarded yourself as being fairly low-maintenance. You didn’t expect grand gestures, nor did you need to be swept off your feet. You merely wanted your boyfriend to remain the kind and gentle person you’d always known.

Regardless, Ominis had already made arrangements to have three-dozen peonies delivered to the castle – one bouquet for each month you’d been in an official relationship. 

He also had plans to tidy up the Undercroft. He didn’t need eyesight to know the room was dingy and dusty, not quite the scene for romantic endeavors. He decided he’d try his damndest to make the place more cozy and less, well, creepy.

You and Ominis had plans to meet in the Undercroft at 8:00, but he slipped from the Great Hall, his food largely untouched, around 7:15 to prepare. When he noticed you were no longer seated at the Ravenclaw table, he assumed you had returned to Ravenclaw Tower to freshen up.

Ominis returned to the Slytherin dungeons to fetch the flowers that had arrived in the afternoon. He frowned as the tip of his wand hovered above the peonies. He realized he had asked for deep pink because it was your favorite, but he didn’t know what that actually meant, nor could he verify he’d received the right color. What if they were light pink, or white? Were they romantic enough? What if you were disappointed by them? He sighed and shook his head at his absurd anxieties before exiting the Slytherin Common Room.

He froze when he stepped into the Undercroft.

“Y-you’re early,” he stammered as he sensed your presence.

“So are you,” you mused. You couldn’t help but smile at Ominis’ clear disdain. You should have known he’d have the same idea as you.

You arrived an hour early to the Undercroft to make your own preparations. You’d transformed the old tattered sofa into something much more plush and comfy. The cobwebs that usually clung to the corners of the room were cleared, and the table that typically housed Sebastian’s old collection of dusty books was now covered with flickering candles.

Ominis blinked as his wand scanned the room, revealing your work. “But… but I was going to do all of this,” he said.

“You didn’t have to,” you laughed. “Besides, we both know I’m better at transfiguration spells anyway.”

“But I wanted to surprise you.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Ominis, you know I don’t like surprises,” you pointed out. He sighed and extended the flowers toward you.

“All of those are for me?” you asked with a smile.

“No, they’re for Professor Sharp. Of course, they’re yours.”

You snorted at his sarcasm and took the bouquets. “I love this shade of pink,” you said happily as you conjured a large vase. “Though three bouquets is more than enough – rather excessive, honestly.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you.”

You gazed at him softly and moved toward him to hug him around the waist, the flowers forgotten on the table. “You always do nice things for me,” you noted after you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Like helping me with my Divination assignments, and keeping me out of Azkaban.” You smirked as you watched the corners of his lips curve in a faint smile. “Anyway,” you continued as you tugged gently on Ominis’ hand to guide him toward the sofa. “Let’s sit. Tell me how your day was.”

In all honesty, neither of you gave a flying fuck about Ominis’ day, but you wanted him to feel at ease. It was the same type of day he always had and you both knew it. His evening would be much more interesting.

“It was fine,” Ominis replied, his voice edged with nervousness as he sat next to you, his wand resting at his side. You curled your feet beneath yourself and leaned on him to rest your head against his chest. You could practically hear his heart rattling. Though he was always warm, his frame felt particularly hot. He’d normally relax in your presence, melt at your fond touch, but right now, he was tense. His knuckles were white while his nails dug divots into his smooth palms.

It was exactly the kind of behavior that made you love Ominis to begin with. For as poised and proper as he always appeared, he became so pliable when it came to you. Tonight, though, you didn’t want him to feel flustered. You only wanted him to feel you.

“Ominis,” you started gently, your hand resting atop his. You squeezed it assuredly, as if it would ease his curled fist. When he unflexed his hand, you laced your fingers with his. “Just relax. It’s me.”

He nodded silently, his chest still puffed out. 

“Maybe you should take your jacket off,” you offered. “It’s awfully hot in here, all these candles, you know?” You helped Ominis ease his jacket off and tossed it on the armchair across from you. “Better?”

“Better,” Ominis admitted, though his voice was a croak. 

You began to wonder if this was a bad idea. Maybe he wasn’t ready for sex yet, and you surely were in no place to pressure him. You loved him far too much to ask him to do anything that made him uneasy. You’d done enough of that your fifth year during Sebastian’s little downward spiral.

But did Ominis know that? You realized you’d never outwardly told him you loved him. You were certain he’d felt it, but maybe he needed your reassurance, and this seemed like the right moment. 

“Ominis,” you said carefully, your hands holding his. You paused, your eyes searching his expression for any sign you should stop yourself. But he remained patient, curious to know what you had to say. He always wanted to hear your thoughts. “You know I love you, right?”

Ominis’ eyes widened immediately. You watched him inhale sharply and held your own breath as you anticipated his response.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, I love you too, you know.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“I feel like I was supposed to be the one to say it first,” Ominis sighed. You rolled your eyes. 

“How very chauvinistic of you,” you quipped. Ominis glowered at you and you grinned. “Now that that’s out of the way, I want you to know that we don’t have to do anything tonight,” you continued. “That’s not the point of our relationship. I’ll never ask you to do something you don’t want.”

“I know,” Ominis said quietly. “But I do want it. I just… want to get it right.”

“Nothing can happen tonight that will make me think any less of you,” you noted.

“I know,” Ominis said again. “I just wish I could see you. If I could only see one thing in this world, it’d be you.”

Your eyes softened at his admission. Ominis was often vulnerable with you, but he rarely discussed his vision. He’d come to terms with it long before he met you, but it still felt cruelly unfair that he couldn’t look at the one person he loved.

“Ominis,” you said softly. “I know you can’t see me. But it’s always felt like you can. You see me in ways no one else does. That’s why I love you.” You sat up straighter to turn and face him as you reached for his wand hand. You lifted it until the tip of his wand rested gently against your chest. “Besides, even if you can’t see me, you can feel me.”

Ominis’ breathing became louder; so loud, you started to grow concerned he was having some sort of respiratory attack. But when you shifted again to stand, he snapped a hand around your wrist. The tip of his wand remained pressed to your chest. 

The air inside the Undercroft seemed to shift, as if it understood the change in both of your pulses. Now, the room hummed with a sultry energy, its braziers bouncing their flames above you.

Without another word, you slowly began to unbutton your blouse. You moved slowly and deliberately, allowing the tip of Ominis’ wand to detect your every move. Its ruby tip cast a soft glow across your skin until you were bare chested.

“Ominis,” you said steadily as you stood. You slid your shirt all the way off and added your skirt and undergarments to the pile on the floor, leaving you fully exposed. “I want you to feel me. I want you to take your time and feel me until you can picture me.”

Ominis stood, his wand guiding him to your waiting form. You held your breath as your heart began to thump. The cool tip of his wand found your shoulder and traced gently over the ridge of your collarbone. It sent a shiver down your spine.

When the wand reached your chest, Ominis stopped. You could sense his hesitation to explore you on such an intimate level, but you remained patient. Slowly, the crimson tip cast itself against your right breast and followed the curve until it reached your nipple. You drew a shaky breath, though Ominis was breathing heavier.

As Ominis’ wand found your other breast, its tip showing him the goosebumps scattered across your flesh, you couldn’t help but notice the bulge forming in his pants. When you licked your bottom lip in arousal, Ominis seemed to sense it. He shifted from one foot to the other, his flushed cheeks matching the glow of his wand.

“Keep going,” you whispered as you felt the wand tip drag toward your stomach. Ominis obliged and you could feel the heat swelling in your core. The wand inched lower and lower, tickling your skin until it glided past your belly button and drifted outward to your left hip bone. It took every ounce of control to contain the urge to buck your hips forward. Instead, you held still, waiting for Ominis to continue.

You could feel the conflict clashing inside of him. He wanted this just as much as you did, but he was terrified by the prospect of any shortcoming. 

“Do you trust me?” you breathed. He nodded without pause. You reached for his wand hand to guide it over your body, pulling the tip away from your hips toward the space between your thighs. It hovered there as Ominis’ eyes stared blankly ahead, his jaw clenched in anticipation. The bulge in his trousers was now a tight peak.

You dipped the tip of his wand until it touched your slit. If Ominis hadn’t sensed your arousal earlier, it was evident now. His hand began to shake beneath yours.

“Just breathe,” you whispered. You weren't sure if you were talking to Ominis or to yourself.

Ominis nodded and guided his wand until it pressed gently against your clit. You whined at the touch, your eyes falling shut. Ominis’ knuckles grew taut around his wand handle, as if he could feel your pulse surging through the wood. His hand continued to shake. The shudder sent a jolt through your tiny bundle of nerves and you moaned.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ominis murmured. 

It was a special moment upheld by mutual trust; you, trusting Ominis with his wand and power pointed at your most vulnerable spot; Ominis, trusting you to see everything for him.

You released his hand. He seemed surprised, but you already had a plan in mind. 

“Can we continue?” you asked gently. He nodded. 

You took a step backward toward the sofa and Ominis immediately missed the connection between his wand and your body. But you decided he no longer needed it. You plucked the wand from his hand and rested it on the side table.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “Now that you've seen me, you can feel me. I’ll look after you, remember?” 

You guided him by the front of his shirt to sit, your fingers pulling his shirt buttons open as you stood over him. You dragged your outstretched palms across his bare chest and slipped his shirt off. 

When you went for his belt buckle, his hands gripped the back of the sofa. He made his best attempt at composure as he listened to you undress him from the waist down. When he was fully unclothed, your eyes scanned him in quiet observation.

You couldn’t believe the two of you had managed to find each other in a life so full of chaos and cruelty. Fate could have dropped you anywhere on the map, or at any point in time, yet here you were, together.

For as wicked as life had been for you both, you felt so fucking lucky to have found Ominis Gaunt.

He sat rigid, unsure what to make of your silence, so you decided that occupying your mouth would occupy his overactive brain. You dropped to your knees in front of him and took him into your mouth. He gasped at the sudden warmth.

Your tongue flattened against his velveteen flesh as you dragged it along his length. When you reached the tip, you wrapped your lips tight and sucked until he glided toward the back of your throat. He moaned above you. As you bobbed your head and familiarized yourself with the only part of Ominis you hadn't known, his fingers tangled in your hair. You couldn’t help but relish the knowledge you were the only one to ever afford him with such pleasure. But you were also desperate for your own.

You released him and climbed on top of him, your legs straddling his thighs. 

“Alright?” you asked. You peered at him with affection, searching for any sign that indicated he was unsure. 

“Alright. You?”

“Alright.” You smiled and pulled him into a soft kiss. “Still trust me to look after you?”

“Of course.” 

With Ominis’ blessing, you eased yourself downward until the tip of his cock prodded your entrance. You felt his breath hitch as you sank lower, slowly and carefully as you willed yourself to relax. The mounting pressure made your slick walls flinch.

“You feel so fucking good,” Ominis groaned. It was enough to make you giggle. Ominis rarely ever cursed. You welcomed the light moment, your laughter easing your body’s tension.

Once Ominis had you filled, his hands felt for your waist. You rocked forward and moaned at the way your walls molded around his cock. You lifted your hips slowly and dipped downward again until you both adjusted to your new bond. It was a dizzying moment, made possible by an intense adoration and the shared desire to prove it.

“You’re so hard,” you whimpered as you drove your hips downward, certain his size could split you apart if you weren’t careful — not that caution was present anywhere in your brain at the moment.

Instead, you hastened your pace in search of the imminent high. The sounds of your slick union carried across the Undercroft until your moans drowned them out. Your nails pricked against the skin of Ominis’ shoulders but neither of you paid any mind. All feeling was focused on the friction between your legs.

Your back arched as Ominis’ cock prodded your sweet spot, your bobbing hips rutting your most sensitive patch over his tip. The chorus of your moans reached its peak as you felt your walls start to flutter. Your attempt to cry his name slipped out as a choked whimper as your body crashed downward for the last time, the pressure from Ominis’ cock triggering your release.

He didn’t need to see you to sense the way your body responded to him. It provoked his own climax and soon, he was spilling into you with a sharp gasp until his frame relaxed.

You both caught your breaths, your chests rising and falling in sync as you said nothing. The Undercroft felt cool again, as if it knew it could return to its normal state. 

“Are you okay?” you asked gently, your eyes studying Ominis carefully.

“Of course,” he rasped. He gazed at you with a fresh, calm affection; much different from the nervous wreck he’d been earlier. His hand drifted from your hip up the curve of your waist until it cupped your face. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”

You smiled slyly and pecked a kiss to his flushed cheek. “Told you I’d look out for you.”

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Going Crazy About the LADS Boys Kisses (Entwined Shadow Event)

Zayne

His kisses are strong and needy but at the same time it shouts as a stablish relationship. MC (only) reaches out for him and hugged him tighter.

We know that they kiss before (Drunken Intimacy and Heart Within Reach) But this is something different. You can see how MC entrust herself to him. We got a full blown make out session with Zayne. I almost faint!

Since Zayne is a man of few words, its really bone melting to hear him convey his feelings directly.

He always exudes confidence, yet he once again like to confirm your feelings for him.

This card really makes me crave for him. Oh, Zayne! The man you are!

Xavier

He is as cryptic as always. He really like to spoke in riddles that always got me thinking twice but his kisses are different. He is sure and he really wants it.

I saw on twitter that the cherry MC holding cherry is a euphemism for something. Thinking about it, I feel that it's right considering Xavier also mentioned "It's also the first time". I just don't know how to chug this down. You can look at it as M/C proactively offering herself to him or Xavier asking it from her.

All of this making me feel that they are starting their relationship or going to another level. What do you think?

Rafayel

His kisses is sweet and it is the first time he is more serious and I definitely like him this way.

Rafayel conveys his feelings in a way that is like joking or sarcastic, but this event definitely changes him. However, contrary to the beautiful and serene garden they are in, his words are deep and meaningful that is almost scary. It's like he is gonna disappear anytime.

This card almost feel like the start of their relationship and I am really happy for him. After pinning for MC for long time, masking his longing for jest, he finally allows himself to be with you wholeheartedly.

I always feel like he is scared from his own feelings. He has gave it all and he is finally doing it again. Oh I'm crying.

Final Thoughts (Just My Opinion Cause I Might Miss Something and I can be wrong)

After analyzing everything carefully, Zayne is definitely ahead when it comes to relationship. Their kiss and their body language says it all.

Xavier is somewhat tentative but he sure loves MC. He craves for us but did not know how to express it.

As for Rafayel, it's like he is taking his sweet time building a strong relationship with you. He is so cautious and borderline afraid to get things so fast. And I really really appreciate that.

This is the first time I wanna get all the cards and I hope everyone can as well.

[muletia]

𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩 ✧˖°

that actually catches boobies

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader 18 + valveplug, mdi!!

summary: optimus discovers boobs

cw: valveplug, breast play, nipple play, oral fixation (optimus) coming untouched, kinda stiff writing (the words weren't wording)

word count: 1300

is this good enough for valentines?

didn't go into the breast feeding kink territory but maybe someday??? who knows

You sit right in front of him, free of clothing but still wearing a bra. With a relaxed, gentle smile, you unhook it, freeing your breasts, baring yourself before him, and Optimus realizes that this must be the human equivalent of showing one’s spark in its beauty and rawness, but also the fragile trust with which you have gifted him. Wants to look you directly in the eyes, to wait for a signal that he can glance downward, but the curiosity of his former self wins out. His optics lower, studying this unfamiliar part of your body. Tries to be chivalrous in this exploration, not wanting you to suddenly change your mind, become scared, and break the trust you’ve extended to him by hiding yourself from his adoration. Optimus wants your comfort. Above all else. Even above his own.

“You are beautiful,” he says, this time looking directly into your eyes. Complimenting your body, but speaking to your soul.

“Oh, thank you,” you reply, suddenly bashful at his deep baritone, proximity, and intimacy. “You are too.” But Optimus lets you take your time, process his words in your mind, and accept them. Only then does he ask:

“May I?”

“Yes.” Because the calm and composure have returned, because there was no other answer.

Gently, with precise care to avoid your apprehensions, he takes your breast in his servo. Soft.

You feel his hesitation on your skin, his fear of squeezing too hard and causing pain. You understand it, but now is not the time for that. You desired his touch; you wanted to feel the pressure of his masculine servos in places reserved only for him, and you wanted to feel it now. To encourage him to explore further, you place your hand on his servo and gently pull it toward yourself.

“You can squeeze them lightly,” you encourage, and only then does he allow himself to press his digits into the plush flesh.

Incomparable softness. Plush, fluffy. Extraordinary. He squeezes again, just to confirm he isn’t dreaming this sensation while awake. Velvety.

“Wondrous,” he whispers, this time caressing your breast out of reverence rather than hesitation. Digits glide over your sensitive skin, occasionally kneading the flesh, still not fully satisfied with the softness it offers. He must have truly been a good mech his entire life if all his decisions had led him to this moment.

“Feels nice, huh? They say this kind of squeezing is relaxing,” you say, trying not to make the experience too strange for him, even though every touch, every stroke teases your warmth, which begs for more stimulation. Optimus squeezes again, and you bite your tongue to stifle a moan. It’s his first time. Don’t be a pervert, you tell yourself, though your body sabotages your good intentions. Your nipples have unknowingly hardened from the exquisite stimulation, brushing against the equally firm but still sensitive servo, which partially pulls away from your breast to explore the previously hidden nub with his thumb. Optimus gently encircles your nipple with his thumb, stroking its base before moving to the tip, where he repeats the same motion, hungrily observing as it stiffens even further, as if demanding something from him.

Feels an unexpected yet irresistible urge to envelop the nipple with his glossa, shocking even himself. “It is,” he admits. Because indeed, it is a pleasant feeling. Unparalleled by any tactile sensation on Cybertron. New, but beautiful. It’s also addictive, because Optimus desires more, as he always does when it comes to you and what you can offer him. “Is this a desired reaction?” he asks, gently kneading your nipple. He wants to conceal it in his intake. To feel it closer, deeper. To find a way to possess you within himself without the connotations of spike buried in valve but equally blissful for you.

Can’t help himself. His processor floods with musings about this unfamiliar sensation, which quickly reaches his glossa, teasing his Cybertronian tongue, and reminding him of its existence. It makes every position in his intake suddenly uncomfortable, begging for movement, pleading for stimuli.

But he must be patient; doesn’t want to pounce on you like a beast, ruining the chance to fulfill his fantasies.

“Mhm,” you hum. “Very.”

He directs his gaze to your face, wanting to ensure you’ll allow him a moment of selfishness, noticing your blush and bitten lip, already understanding that this exquisite pleasure isn’t one-sided. And that makes him even happier than he already is — if that’s even possible. “I am honored that this is equally enjoyable for you. May I?” he asks. And even though you’re not entirely sure what he means or what his intentions are, you allow him, knowing he would never hurt you.

He brings his faceplate closer to your torso and opens his intake, soon enveloping your breast with the warmth of glossa. Wraps it around your nipple, slowly gliding along its entire length, exploring every bump, unevenness, and perfect imperfection.

“Oh God!” you moan, and it affects him like a red rag to a bull.

He discovers the unknown, with every lick realizing that if only you’d let him, he could spend his entire life attached to your breast. He knows that desire is currently driving his primitive thought process, but, Primus, it’s incredible. Shouldn’t be selfish, but can’t stop himself, especially when the symphony of your delicate moans and satisfied murmurs spurs him on.

He circles your areola, each round becoming faster. Wants more. Glossa again runs along the entire length of your nipple, pausing at the tip, which he nudges a few times. And apparently, it’s a bullseye, as he feels your encouraging touch on the top of his helm, just behind the crest. With such encouragement, he repeats the movement, working his glossa continuously to draw even more pleasure from you.

Feels his throbbing spike demanding attention, pressing painfully against the interface panel. A few drops of transfluid have already dripped from the tip, but Optimus prefers to use his free servo to cup your other breast, which he begins to knead gently, repeating the same motions as before. Doesn’t need direct touch on his spike, feeding instead on your pleasure and the sensation of the hardened nipple being worked over by his glossa. That will be enough for him to reach overload; he knows it, because he doesn’t dare ask for your help. This is your time for bliss. And while he always tries to show his adoration for you, this is also your time to be worshipped. Your satisfaction is more than enough — this time, he’s sure of it. Besides, he’s already so, so close to reaching his own climax.

“Optimus!” you gasp, and your voice reaches straight to his spike, which twitches shyly.

He caresses and kneads your breast while his glossa circles your nipple again, soon switching to licking it like a thirsty dog; messy and ravenous. Wants to bring you to overload, wants you to feel good, because only then will he free himself from the growing tension behind his interface panel. So he tries one more tactic. Hungrily sucking on your nipple, occasionally pausing to play with it using his glossa.

“Ah, Optimus!” you cry out.

You climax, and overload rolls through him, still latched onto your nipple. Raises his optics to meet your face and is greeted by a flushed but blissful expression adorned with a serene smile. When your eyes meet his, you gently stroke his helm.

“You did great,” you praise. Only then does his intake release your thoroughly ravished and coolant-slicked breast with a quiet ‘pop.’ The lower part of his faceplate shares the same fate, smeared with Cybertronian saliva, but Optimus doesn’t seem to mind. Nor does he take any action to clean himself, still fixated on your hardened nipples and your entire breast, as he doesn’t release the other one. He gives it one last squeeze and strokes the nipple with his thumb. “Oh? A second round?”

“Please.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Since your Invincible requests are open, I think this is a good time to request for Shapesmith?? N/SFW hcs maybe, or a smut fic are ideas to start, but you can do either!! I don't think it matters what the reader is, if you want to base off another character, and trans or amab reader is fine - but leaning towards trans

Shapesmith nsfw alphabet 

Hiii, I felt inspired to cook up an alphabet for the shapesmith, so I hope yall enjoy. 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) 

I feel that Martians have kind of different rules and ways when it comes to being intimate, so aftercare would first be something he saw purpose in, when he started dating a human. Thats when he realized how good the aftercare itself felt, so even if he doesn't need it the same way you do, he still spends a lot of time on it. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) 

I don't think Shapesmith has a favorite part of his own body since he can just... change it at will. It sounds cheesy, but I see him as the kind of guy who's obsessed with pretty much every part of his partner. Them not being able to shapeshift and always being just themselves would be so hot and attractive to him. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) 

Martian cum has a strange consistency, like elmers glue. Its thicker, gloopy, and kinda sticky. It's difficult to swallow cuz your body just wants to reject it. I can see Shapesmith liking yours a lot more, and he always swallows since he has no challenge with deepthroating and alike. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) 

Before you guys started dating, and sometimes when he's alone, Shapesmith shapeshifts into you and gets off, imagining its him doing it to you. He also stumbled upon adult content and just watched that and nothing else for like, a month. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) 

Not very experienced at all, especially with humans. I get a feeling he wasn't too popular amongst martians either. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) 

Honestly? Any. Hes just happy to be here and be involved. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) 

Shapesmith is goofy in general, and he wouldnt take it as seriously as expected in human culture, since well, hes not human. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

Hes completely smooth, the only place he's got hair on his body is his head and eyebrows, as he sees no need for it anywhere else. If you were into it shapesmith would alter his body to have it though. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) 

I think he can get embarrassingly sappy and romantic, like eyes almost heart shaped as he coos and kisses you all over. He seems to be the kinda guy who starts giggling whenever you say you love him. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) 

He doesn't really. Shapesmith doesn't have much need for it when hes alone, especially when he can just save it for you. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) 

Honestly, I dont imagine he has anything specific hes REALLY into, like i mentioned, hes happy to be here and happy to be involved. Hes also not held back by a lot of societies rules, so hes not scared of trying stuff. Like, sure, he can put on panties, he can do watersports, he can wear pup gear, hes enjoys it because you enjoy it. With time, as he involves himself more and more, he might develop some preferences though. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) 

Could do it anywhere, any time. He doesn't really care much that you guys are in public, if you guys are in love and wanna do it, why not? His all-time favorite place is in your bed though, since he gets to be so close to you and so intimate. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) 

You and anything you do. There are times where you have to spell it out to him though. For some reason I can imagine he gets really hot and bothered by seeing your naked body, even if it's just after a shower. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) 

Doesn't do threesomes. Yes, someone as cute as shapesmith can get jealous and insecure. I also think he would just be “why do we need anyone else when we love each other and i can be anything you need babe?” 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) 

Prefers giving, as it makes him feel worthy and loved. Plus, hes got no gag reflex, a tongue that can twist and turn any which way, and he just loves swallowing what you have to give him. Hes not nothing against receiving and likes it as much as the next guy, but giving it to you makes him happier. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) 

He seems to type to set a quick pace, but hes not overly rough unless you guys are in that kinda mood. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) 

Big fan of them, you guys being intimate is just another sign of your love, so of course you guys do quickies every now and then. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) 

Like I mentioned, Shapesmith is happy to be here, happy to be involved. Hes happy to give anything a try at least once, especially if he sees its something you like, so hes willing to experiment. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) 

Hes got great stamina, nothing like a viltrumite or even the immortal, but hes got a lot of energy. You can still succeed in wearing him out as a normal human though. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) 

I dont think he personally owns any, why bother when he can just be whatever he needs himself. But if you got any then yeah, he will use them sometimes. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) 

He wouldnt be much of a tease in the beginning, since he doesnt realize the game. Then you guys would have dated for a while, and he realizes how fun it is when you tease him, and he teases you. Being a shapeshifter truly is helpful for this, so watch out for when hes feeling extra affectionate. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) 

Hes loud in just about anything he does, and this too. You know hes getting close when he starts getting quiet and whimpering and huffing. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) 

Will sometimes shapeshift into animals to just hang out and not have to bother with human rules. He struggles to understand a lot of earths unspoken rules and deals, he also struggles with sarcasm and lies. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 

He can be any size and thickness you want baby, all you gotta do is ask. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) 

Its not super high, and Shapesmith only really truly feels it when hes with you or thinking about you. I can see it becoming stronger if hes stressed though. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Falls asleep almost immediately after, especially if you have succeeded in wearing him out. You gotta be quick to do clean up, since he wraps around you and doesn't let you move the rest of the night. 

[bestlilithian]

Horribly aspected venus culture

(negative aspects to Pluto, Neptune, Saturn, Chiron, Uranus and Lilith)

- being delusional or people being delusional about you (went into spiritual psychosis once in an unrequieted love situation, also had a guy convinced his love for me was requieted after I explicitly told him I didnt like him *twice* and then having him tell me "How do you know you wont like me in a few years?")

- either not giving a fuck at all or being completely insanely jelaous

- staying single for a while and pretending youre 'focusing on yourself' but really youre just scared of getting hurt

- alternatively, never being single and using relationships to fill a void

- craving love and intimacy but fearing the possible pain and betrayal

- obsessive crushes

- being very beautiful and magnetic but thinking the opposite of yourself

- people living in your head rent free, or living in peoples heads rent free

- loyal to your own demise, probably

- weird kinks ngl

- having stalkers 🫶 and to take this a step further for the especially crazy babes, having a stalker and wishing it was your crush instead of some creepy random

- might romanticize abuse and dangerous situations bc you dont know any better

- possibly confused about your sexuality

- not being able to tell between romantic and platonic feelings

- obsessed with romance (whether its shows in your actions or not)

- self esteem issues

- feeling like youre unlovable

- situationships (esp for venus/uranus ppl)

- commitment issues, attachment issues, every single insecure attachment or possible relationship blockage in the book ...

[megameatymatt]

NSFW Alphabet - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: what sex with Matt is like

requested?: nope

TW: smut!!

A/N: feedback, interaction, and requests are appreciated!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Aftercare - do they or how do they take care of you after?:

Matt always makes sure you're okay afterwards, he'll run you a hot bath and give you kisses. He'll also say things like "You were so good for me baby"

Body part - theirs and your favourite:

You love Matt's eyes, the way his pupils dilate when he's filled with lust, or how his eyes widen when he's angry. You love them.

Matt is a tits guy. He loves grabbing them when he's fucking you, he loves leaving hickeys on them, and he loves squishing them when he hugs you from behind.

Cum - their favourite place to cum:

Matt would be a little scared to cum in you, not wanting to risk it. But when he does he fucking loves it. He loves watching his cum drip out of you. But most of the time he'll cum on your stomach.

Dirty secret :

Matt would let you dom him/ he loves it when you do. But he'd never admit it.

Experience - their body count:

I feel like Matt has zero bodies, but if he does it's probably 1-3. You would have to teach him a few tricks, but he'll also do some of his own research to surprise you.

Favourite position:

Matt's favourite position is missionary. i know its been said a thousand times, but that's cuz it's true. He also loves when you ride him.

goofy - how serious are they during sex?:

Matt isn't goofy at all. He feels laughing or joking around will make things awkward or make you feel bad about yourself.

Hair :

Matt doesn't let it grow much, mostly because that's his preference.

Intimacy - How intimate are they during the moment?:

He's giving you kisses, complementing your body and insecurities. Maybe even light a few candles. He just wants to feel close to you.

jerking off - masturbation:

Matt doesn't masturbate a lot, he doesn't see the use of it when he has you.

Kink(s):

Matt doesn't really have any kinks. Maybe like hair pulling. He wouldn't wanna do too much, afraid of hurting you. However, if you mention anything you like he'll gladly do it to you

Location - their favourite place to do it:

Matt loves doing it in an actual bed (preferably yours since he doesn't get much privacy at home) It's just the most comfortable for the both of you. It's also convenient for cuddling afterwards.

motivation - what turns them on:

everything you do gets him a little bit excited. But for some reason, when you have an attitude or get really bold and flirtatious around him it really gets him going.

No- something they wouldn't do:

Matt wouldn't do anything that would hurt you in anyway , like BDSM is a big no-no.

Oral- do they give or receive?:

Matt loves it when you give him head, but he really loves eating you out. It's mostly for his pleasure

Pace:

His pace definitely depends on his mood, but he prefers to go slow

Quickies:

Matt doesn't really like quickies. He'll do it, but not often. He prefers to take his time with you.

Risk:

Matt doesn't take many risks, car sex is as far as he'd go.

stamina- how long can they last?:

When Matt's dom, the most he can last is 3 rounds, But when you're on top its usually not long till he's a mess.

Toys:

Matt doesn't own any toys himself. but if he ever finds out you have a toy he'll use it on you during sex to add to your pleasure.

Volume:

When matt is dom he's groaning talking you through the whole thing

"You're so good for me baby"

"keep these legs spread"

"fuck, you taste so good"

But when you dom him, he's a whimpering mess. He's moaning your name begging to cum

Unfair- how much do they tease?:

Matt loves to tease you, but it's never for long because he can never hold himself back. Matt loves it when you tease him though.

wildcard:

While Matts driving, he'd love to find a place to park and fuck you on the hood of his car.

X-ray:

you've probably seen it, i know i've seen it, Matt is long.

Yearning - how high is their sex drive?:

Matt goes feral when he's with you. Especially when you wear his favourite outfit, He just can't control himself.

Zzz- how quickly they fall asleep afterwards:

Matt is pretty tired after fucking you. But he doesn't fall asleep until he's given you aftercare and made sure you're okay.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Pleaseeeee bg3 companion masturbation hcs there’s not enough

Astarion

Doesn’t masturbate. Since he can’t really ‘get it up’ without feeding like most vampires, he doesn’t have morning wood that needs to be taken care of. But, more importantly, he doesn’t find sexual gratification actually gratifying. Since it has been the source of his torment, his humiliation, and shame for so many years, he would rather just ignore it. When he refinds intimacy with Tav he tries it but thinks that ‘self-service’ is just not all that interesting.

Gale

Before the orb, Gale would masturbate regularly just for release and amusement. ‘Get the juices flowing’ kind of wank. After the orb, he’s too scared to be that stimulated. Despite his research Gale is not convinced that any extra excitement might set him off. He can’t risk it. So Gale has been in totally celibacy for some time. In his sleep, he would rub against his sheets or clothes. Desperate for friction & touch before he woke up and remembered he couldn’t. When he’s finally given his reprieve with Elminster’s spell, it’s one of the first things he does when he’s in private. One, to make sure his celibacy hadn’t ‘ruined’ anything for him long term. Two, for release. And finally three, so he doesn’t embarrass himself with Tav.

Lae'zel

Has never masturbated and does not know the meaning of the word when first told of the subject. Once explained, Lae’zel just huffs at the absurdity. Should she need release, she would find a suitable partner of willing & similar urges to quell her desires with. To use ones own hand that would hold Vlaakith’s silver is humiliating and speaks ill of their value to their Crèche if no one would lay with them. It’s one of the reasons she is so aggressive with Tav in her ‘confession’. Yes, she wants them, but also she needs release too.

Shadowheart

Of two minds on the subject. On the one hand, it feels good and there are clearly some benefits to it. On the other, masturbation is considered self-indulgent and looked down on by Shar. Though chastity is not necessarily part of the faith, relationships and sex distract from the Lady of Loss. All must be given for Shar’s blessing. Including all pleasure. Yet, despite this, Shadowhearts hand does slip past her sleep pants at night. Quiet as a mouse. Skilled hands quick & efficient as to not raise suspicion on its movements. Says extra prayers in the morning after.

Wyll

Wyll used to do it a normal amount for a young man, but after his contract with Mizora he more or less stopped. He could never be sure but he always suspected that she was watching him. Convinced that that was the case he limited himself rather strictly; it certainly made his fencing that much better, as he only had one sword to play with now. When he does, Wyll very rarely ‘indulges’ in it. Tries to get it finished as quickly as possible. Spits in his hand, jerks at his cock, cums, done & done. After his transformation he barely does it at all. Finding his new body unsettling for a time.

Halsin

Despite his inflated sex drive, Halsin doesn’t masturbate all that often anymore. Most of that is due to his entire focus on the Shadow Curse. Consumed by it so much that he rarely took time for sexual release, or even partners. In his youth, he was more prolific at it. Masturbated daily, if he didn’t have a partner available, to the point that he would get irritated if he couldn’t do it. He would also try all manners of technique when doing it. Not just focused on his cock, but all parts of his body for pleasure. One of the few who also desires mutual masturbation with his partner.

[gazeofseer]

Marriage and Purpose🌕

Marriage is a Sacred Vow Between Two Souls it is never forced rather revered within a soul just like the calling needs conscious intent, is how the purpose of marriage needs developing the right intent towards it.

Note : Your life is not a by product of others experience so do not let them decide how yours is going to be, have faith nothing is stone written but everything is channeled and aligned for your greater good. ✨

Pick a Pile ❤️🌹

🎀🫶🏻💌❤️🎀🫶🏻💌❤️🎀🫶🏻💌❤️🎀🫶🏻💌❤️🎀

Pile.1

The chains of fear is keeping you drowned in the ocean full of Whimsical lies that oh, this guy/girl could be the one and then what leaves you starving despite every other thing that seems perfectly fine, why fairytale feels like a whole juggling lies around you?

You have no love story, no bounds, no typicality in your fate in terms of marriage. It is about you coming home feeling whole as yourself, free from the societal congestions of archetypes and elevate from the failed presets of love. The whole concept is coming from scarcity that you don't deserve love because you are nothing, in the actual means like you feel a little is a lot then to have nothing so you feed attentions, potentials that only longs for days, weeks, but when it comes to true intimacy you step back from your own emotional corset that it feels hauntingly suffocating and then boom negative manifestations root from your intent.

Marriage : Your marriage is a contractual tie that whenever you take birth your soulmate births in the same way but having a different life entirely when you meet there would be a purpose that will entice you with them like except for love everything seems to have reason within you two. Like you both do most of the things together or have a shared routine that sits perfectly together.

Purpose : To work, build and create something together to serve humanity or the divinity.

Signs : 8, 17, 26, Capricorn, Taurus, Scorpio your favourite color is red and your spouse would love white color he has this cute smile, big teeth, and different fingers may even have six for you to identify.

Pile.2

Marriage has been a very significant dream of your life that you have been safeguarding for ages as if, it has something important and you can't miss on it this isn't cellular rather more on a soul level the feeling that I am always missing someone. Keep looking for someone even if you don't who in the middle of the crowd, even in the gaze exchanged among the strangers, and even recognise few somehow but knowing that not, he/she is not.

You have been in isolation for more than 5 to 7 years feeling exhausted tired and even lonely to a point where you get anxious when someone intervenes even as a friendship as if not them you won't let anyone slide in not even in your dms.

Marriage : Your dream of being a mother, of being a wife, having the right husband is already reaping its value in alignment but what is missing here is you, you are prone to be the silence, the assumption, the lost one in your relationship because of lack of action towards it. It means not only romantic but also the relationship with yourself is like..'What matters even if I am alive.., why should waste money on myself? Dream what will I dream about' the despair is taking its depth and could create obstacles if you get married exposing you to explicitly see every other person as a threat. You have a twinflame connection to complete before you get married so you can have enough lessons to learn about what is love build under the bounds and spells of marriage.

Purpose : Learning the importance of a relationship between two humans and what makes it scared and a fix of the puzzle in your journey to grow as a life.

Signs : Libra Rising, Venus Prominence, Saturn in seventh house, twinflame journey, blue favorite color of your spouse, your Twinflame and spouse would have one significant similarity that will make you step into both the relationship.

Pile.3

Marriage? Huh I am already tired of attracting enough of narcissist, pyschotic and cheap kind of men but oh lord how beautiful they all look while they lure? Can't resist all these heavenly sins? Oh the beauty queen, you know your worth but still keep buying medicore experiences because the taste of temptation keeps you hooked too badly that you choose to starve only to consume with obsession later.

You may come across as female fatale like guys are those butterflies perching honey out of the sweetest red rose. But tell me don't you enjoy when all the eyes craves for your glance, yet you feel enraged, angry, upset and nasty?

Why wasn't the attention attentive enough? The problem here is you love manipulation so you test people tok badly that you attract the real baddies who come coveted in nice glasses and gentlemen goodies then exactly sword their sweetness slowly be it through tou ch, flirt, its all fugazy nobody is even interested on you they just get pulled in the intent of magnet you carry that you want causual not commitment so it means the so called people think oh, she is not the serious I can touch her, call her, use her energy, that was so feminine energy so even if you are a guy that's how you feel around women.

Marriage : You will get married when you clear your karma, when you choose yourself and have boundaries around your energy and stop being a prey, practice to avoid giving into temptations find something real to create a life, if you keep playing the wrong way and expect right behaviour that is where you become the entire wrong in your own game and the cost would be marrying as a compensation. You have a beautiful spouse probably a healer by nature or by profession. I saw soothing touching, head patting, tears, gloom, rain all these speaks of your soul, your pain, shame and karma let go of all that choose healing, choose love, and the only way to do is, to be brave to tell that you can't be touched, used or made even feel worse for no reason.

Purpose : Driving emotions in a healthy way is the key and journey of both your spouse and your purpose to get married. They may have single parents, or almost no parents living in abandonment and some kind of familial stress being each others cure is a sign that your wounds are a harm to others and yourself and only you two together can have that empathy to heal those scars that still bleeds, seems painful, all this will be escalated. You both built a home of darkness when it will break you will see there was always a light within you guiding to each other.

Signs : It was screaming all the reading, it was Pisces Moon, Aquarius Moon, Capricorn Moon. They are taller, and wattpad coded but its just a look..

[stardustedseas]

uhhhhmmmm everyone please still pretend im normal and that i hate walker very much

18+ nsfw

cw: age gap, daddy kink, nsfw, guilt

gender neutral but afab reader

walker is in his late 30s-early 40s, reader is no younger than 21

just a couple little random hcs that doesnt fully fit in with the rest of my yap but john thought it was adorable that when you took a swig of alcohol and you make a disgusting look, still not used to drinking yet, and he absolutely teased you for it. sometimes, hed chose the strongest thing for shots and make sure to kiss you with tongue after drinking it, just to see the way youd jerk back and scrunch up your nose. you always made a funny sound and slapped his chest, calling him an asshole as he laughed loudly and tried to pull you back in for another kiss, saying he's just trying to help you get used to the flavor.

he kinda hates calling you his girlfriend/boyfriend because it sounds so juvenile, youre both grown adults and it makes him really feel the age gap, so he absolutely prefers you call eachother partners

-

while john didnt feel shame in your relationship, he loves you so much and would gladly tell the whole world, he did feel guilt sometimes. guilt that hes twice your age- pretty much old enough to even be your father. guilt when you would look up at him with those big doe eyes and listen intently as he spoke, taking in his every word because hes so much older and more experienced in life than you. guilt that he enjoys your naivety and showing you pleasure you never knew existed and teaching you how to make him feel the same. guilt that despite being a father, hes addicted to the way youd writhe around under his bruising grip and sob out 'daddy' instead of his name.

walker knows your relationship comes with certain responsibilities that his previous ones didnt, that while you two are on equal ground most the time, he still just has power that you dont, and you have vulnerability he doesnt. he knows that while he has long since learned pretty much all there is to know about himself, you are still coming into your own and figuring yourself out. it scares him that he can have such a huge impact on you without even trying, but hes also honored that you trust him to not take advantage of you, to help you and love you. theres a certain intimacy in it, the way you come to him for comfort and advice while still being your own independent person, in the way he can come to you for the same even if its a little different.

john is a caretaker and protector at heart and he loves the fact that while you are definitely a grown ass person who can take care of themselves, he can still be that for you without it being weird or like hes actually your parent. and yeah sometimes he has the bad habit of being a little overboard, its never in toxic way. he never tries to police what you can and cant do, he never infantalizes you or tries to take control of your life. he just worries. he is absolutely a worrier and can sometimes be a little pushy or think he knows better than everyone else, but its something hes working on with your help.

that being said, sometimes its fun to pretend. fun to pretend that he actually has some control over your life and gets to tell you what to do. its kinda therapeutic for you both ngl. john is a natural born leader who thrives when being in charge but doesnt always get a lot of that with his day to day life, which he hates. you can feel like you have *too much* control and the pessure gets overwhelming when you just dont know what to do at times, which you hate. so, sometimes its nice to play pretend and slip into roles that bring more comfort with eachother. being able to just let go and turn your mind off, not having to think about how your future is in your hands now and no one can really lead the way for you anymore. its relaxing to let someone else take the reigns and decide what to do for a little while. and for john? he finally can feel some peace at knowing hes fully in charge and doesn't have to worry about someone else coming in and ruining his plans or taking control. he can tell you what to do and you do it, no hesitation, no arguing, no questioning his authority.

of course its not like you have no say in anything tho, walker never does anything you two havnt discussed in detail and always makes sure you know that you can say no at any time and hell stop instantly. when you two have your sessions, he may play the dominant role and you the submissive, calling him daddy or sir, but you both know he isnt above you in any way that isnt just physically.

anyways, Johnathan F Walker absolute Thrives on the power you give him. few things get his dick harder than having you bent over his lap with your bare ass and pussy out, moaning and whining the number of times hes slapped them because you were bratty earlier. he loves holding you down with a strong hand on the back of your neck or between your shoulder blades. he thinks you look absolutely ethereal gazing up at him all teary eyed and begging for his forgiveness, swearing youll be good while both of you knowing its a lie. you arent sorry at all and youll be back to giving him sass by the next morning, not that hed have it any other way. but for now, he gets to play the strict daddy role and 'punish' you despite the wet patch on his thigh where your hips are desperately trying to hump into him proves that this is far from actual discipline to you.

being an actual parent has given john the ability to master the dissapointed father look and voice too, which you absolutely love.

anyways, he isnt ashamed of your relationship but you both do try to keep it more under wraps, his public image already isnt great, so him going through a divorce then showing up with someone half his age,,,, doesn't look great and his pr team isnt eager to deal with that. besides, john is more of a private man and likes to keep that part of his personal life personal, and its safer for you that way too. it does get a little annoying when he is having his turn with his son and people assume youre his kid too tho 😭 there have been more times than hed like to admit where you three are out and people think youre walker jrs (idk the kids name-) sibling rather than his other parent and youve had to explain that no, you arent, because otherwise it would get real awkward real fast when john kisses you on the lips.

speaking of his son, walker loves how accepting you are about the situation and how you dont try to alienate his son or hate his ex. you understand that they have a long history together and despite not ending on the best terms, he still loves his son with his whole heart and cares deeply about olivia. maybe you arent besties with her, but you are always kind and welcoming, never giving her any hate nor trying to act like she isnt the mother of walkers son. john was kinda hesitant to introduce you to them at first ngl,worried that despite knowing the situation, youd end up getting weird about it later on. but he feels stupid for it now, you and jr took so fast and you treat him like your own. sometimes when you visit during johns turn, you will just shove your bag into his hands with a breif kiss before swooping up jr like your partner isn't even there lmfao he will whine at you (he will also deny whining) and say you don't love him and are just using him for the baby (which you playfully agree with) but nothing brings him more joy than the fact you already love his son so much. lowk makes him want another

-----

[loganhowlettshousewife]

request for a logan x reader where logan comforts the reader after they come home from a mission all bloodied up? i see a lot of reader comforting logan fics but im curious to see how itd be the other way round :)

me? responding to a request like three weeks later? it's more likely than you think. also sorry it's so short. originally it turned into smut but i didn't know if you'd want that given the request was for hurt/comfort. (if you guys want i can publish the alternate smut version of this fic too).

solace

summary: you come home from a mission gone wrong and logan helps you through it.

warnings: death (offscreen), blood, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, reader has hair, pet names (logan canonically calls his love interests "darlin'" and this is me pushing that agenda), english is not my first language so please do not be rude

word count: 1004

you’re splattered in blood and grime, grey ash streaking your skin from the fire created by a little boy lashing out at the world. he had set his own house on fire, his parents dying in the most brutal of ways, burned alive.

“oh princess, c’mere,” logan pulls you into his arms. you’re in too much shock to argue, letting him manoeuvre you like a doll.

you don’t like going on missions, don’t like hurting people. you’re only ever sent on the easy ones, the non-violent ones, where you try to convince mutant kids to join the school. you’re good at talking to children, at getting them to admit their fears to you, at soothing their worries. but even the easy missions don’t always go well.

charles could sense that this particular child was powerful, and far worse than that, he was angry. he’d lashed out when he’d seen you, screamed in anger when his parents expressed a desire for him to go to xavier’s school, to learn to control himself before he came back home again. his parents were frightened too, scared of what might happen if things continued the way they were.

they’d all died in the explosion of his power.

he was so scared. he never meant to hurt anyone, you could see it in his eyes when the fire continued to burn despite him letting go. it was out of control, no longer a part of him that he could control like an extra limb, but something with a mind of its own.

it reminds you of yourself when you’d first discovered your abilities, scared and alienated from the rest of the world, from the non-mutants around you. you see yourself in every kid you save, and in every kid you lose.

you stay in logan’s arms for a long while, the only sound in the room his steady breathing contrasting with your ragged, choked out sobs. his chest rises steadily against yours, a rhythm that you try to imitate but you can’t, and with every failed inhale you feel your frustration grow, your panic increase.

he picks you up easily, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, clutching onto him so as not to fall. he would never drop you, you know that, but it’s always a slight surprise when you’re not expecting him to lift you from the ground.

he leads you to the bathroom where he helps you strip out of your clothes, so gentle with your shaking form. his hands trace each new sliver of skin revealed to him, keeping a firm pressure on you always, grounding you, reminding you of where you are. not in a burning house watching a child’s corpse go pitch black from the flames, but in the house that logan bought the two of you, not too far from the school but enough to give the two of you privacy.

in the shower, the blood rinses off your skin, pink rivulets swirling down the drain. yet you can still feel it, thick and sticky and warm. you want to scrub at your skin until its red and blistering, until you have to grow a new layer of skin, a fresh one that hasn’t been touched by death.

logan doesn’t let you. he catches your hand and whispers, “let me take care of you, darlin’.”

you lean into his bare chest and he massages shampoo into the roots of your hair, over your scalp until it foams, and then rinses it away. he runs your conditioner - the one he always claims is too expensive and why would you spend so much on hair products - through your hair, tugging gently at the strands when he notices you disappearing into your mind.

afterwards he pats you dry, and kisses every inch of your skin, reverent, on his knees before you. and then he rises to his feet and finally presses his lips to yours, soft and intimate, not rushed or heated, just reassurance that he’s here, he’s got you, and he’s not going anywhere.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks eventually.

you shake your head, “he was just a kid.”

“i know,” logan says, rubbing his large, rough hands over your arms, up and down, “but it’s not your fault, you know that. you can’t control what other people do. d’you blame storm for what happened?”

“no!” you exclaim, eyes wide at the implication that one of your best friends could have caused the boys death.

“but she was on the mission with you,” logan comments, and you shake your head, “if you don’t blame her, you can’t blame yourself. neither of you knew, you couldn’t’ve stopped it.”

“maybe,” you say. you don’t really believe it, but logan knows it’ll take you time to get back to your usual happy self, and he’s fine with staying by your side, whispering praise and reassurance until you start to believe him again.

afterwards, he puts on your favourite movie. he spends the whole time making fun of the characters and their decisions, grumbling about how movies will base their entire plot progression on actions no real, rational person would ever do, until you giggle wetly and slap him in the arm, telling him to shut up and let you watch the film.

you lean back into the circle of his arms and he holds you tight, occasionally wiping stray tears that run down your cheeks. there’s less tension in your muscles now, but you’re not quite relaxed, so he shuffles the two of you around until he can massage your shoulders and back.

you moan at the feeling, sinking into the sensation of his large hands working at the knots, until you’re putty for him. you feel warm and fuzzy by the time his hands start to stray down, massaging your thighs.

“feelin’ better?” he asks as the end credits roll, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“yeah,” you sigh, “thank you for taking care of me.”

[gnohomotho]

May I humbly request some Frontman and F!reader angst? Up to you entirely. Need to read a good fic with some heavy feelings and the more tense and explosive the better (don't ask).

Hello, lovely Anon. You caught me in a fuck-it-we-ball mood, so please, have a truly angst-filled, dastardly, horrendously hurt-comfort-forgetting-the-comfort actually smutty fic because what have we got to lose. ♥

Also, love the message, very much the mood right about now.

♥

♥

♥

Every Ruin of You Is Mine ࿐

Pairing: Hwang In-ho // The Frontman x fem!reader Summary: You know, you really shouldn't threaten the Frontman. Or the games. Or his precious, precious possession. Or inadvertently start to feel warm next to another player. Every step you made seems to have been wrong, and each and every step was taken into account - with a sincere promise of just deserts. ➴༯ Warnings: Oh honey MDNI, 18+, heavy angst, smut, foul language, death, intimacy, fondling, touching, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, torturing, gagging, dubious consent, punishment dynamics, powerplay, verbal powerplay and some very cute nicknames. Word count: 5.7k A/N: Take that, my own unresolved issues and every person who said I'd never write a sex scene. They were right, of course, but I choose to remain dumb and anxious because my life is on fire and I am made of gasoline. Hope you enjoy this one, really do! ♥ Put a lot of work into the build up and the dynamics of the other Squid Game characters, who make a little appearance. ˙ᵕ˙ If anyone knows what to do with said fire, please, DMs are open. As are requests, because the state exam in less than a week is a great fic stimulator. ❀࿐ If you enjoy my works, I'm grateful for every like // reblog // follow // request // message! ♥ Gorgeous gif by: @bladesrunner Masterlist ฅ^._.^ฅ ♡ Requests are OPEN ♡

The steps echoed throughout the hall.

Heavy. Deliberate. Cold.

The dark seemed to hush all except the intrusion, lights against the wall barely illuminating the dense atmosphere.

The pink guards got out of the way instinctively, but even they did so with a few metres reserved ahead - as if the cadence and frequency of the steps and whoosh of fabric warned them well enough.

Once he entered the room full of guards watching the players on cameras, the masked man stared at the large screen in front of him. His hand was in his pocket, clutching something.

As if on command, he loosened his hand.

He watched the screen without movement, without discernible emotion - be it the mask or body language.

He watched the screen with players playing a new game.

Babka.

And he gazed at the flurry of tracksuits, searching for a number.

He clutched his fist around a shape in his pocket the moment he found the figure, running for its life while a taller figure shielded it.

The Frontman still didn't move as he took in the scared eyes, the level brow, the bent legs, the attempts to get the shielding presence out of the way. He could hear the figure shout in his head, knowing her voice so well.

He saw the taller figure stop her in her plans, still standing between her and the other players.

The dark suit barely lifted, but that was a sigh of relief. Relief and anger straight behind it.

Cold and white hot at once.

The Frontman gripped the item in his pocket so hard feeling left his fingers.

Player 139.

Such an unlucky number.

❥❥❥

Player 139 was dead. Her body was already in the incinerator.

And you knew that.

You knew that because you left against explicit orders and ran down there, before the fire could eat her body, and dragged off her tracksuit jacket. The jacket now pulled over your own tracksuit.

You had tried to wish her well.

Promising it wasn't in vain. And shutting her eyes. A headshot, quick, but it shouldn't have happened. So wrong, so wrong, so wrong.

You swallowed and guarded your arms against your chest, trying not to let emotions settle in.

The pink guards ignored you save for two. One square, one triangle.

"Sentimental," you had said, clutching the jacket and doing nothing more so far, "she was my sister."

A lie.

She was your second half before you separated five years ago. She was the reason you got up in the morning. She was your best friend, your companion, your anchor in the world.

And now she was dead. Lying in front of you. Hair caked in blood and sand. Tears dried on her face. She looked like she was sleeping.

The guard grabbed your shoulder.

"Darling sister..." you muttered, as he turned you away and lead you through the door.

Special treatment, you scoffed inwardly.

Special fucking treatment of a bird in a cage.

If he wanted to play, you'd play. You'd play him like a fiddle.

❥❥❥

The button lit up. The screen glared. The players gazed up and then, watched each new soul pick a choice.

There you were, in a little group already. The same people you watched from above.

Player 139 hadn't joined a group before, you didn't have to explain a thing. Only the first game took place so far; no one really knew each other that well unless they met before the games.

"For the love of..." you hear beside you, someone holding onto their sleeve. It's a middle-aged man, furrowed brow, short hair. Face carved with chasms of stress and weight that couldn't be read nor taken off.

He watched as another player chose O.

"It's ok, I'll cancel them out," you whispered to him.

He turned sharply, face confused and ready to pounce, softening upon realising you're no threat. You knew about Gi-hun. Oh, you couldn't not know about him - even if he wasn't on the screen, he was always a presence. Even among the VIPs. It was odd standing so close now. You looked to the ground.

"Hope the others do the same."

The statement was matter of fact and the man turns to the screen again.

It wasn't looking that way.

❥❥❥

"A number of random players determined by chance will have the opportunity to be the 'babka'. They carry a red sticker in the shape of a moon. They run and try to catch the remaining players, marking them with the sticker. If they touch a player and mark them, they too become a babka. Only upon them touching one more player does the first 'babka' lose its status. Hence the status remains on the middle person. Any 'babkas' left after the time limit will be eliminated."

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Who did this? You knew this game from childhood so well. And you sucked at it.

And someone close to you looked just as worried. The tall man, young, sharp features in a kind round face.

"I can't believe this," he swallowed and tried to straighten, "I lost every time my friends played. I was too round to run."

You smiled sadly.

"Yes. Me too. And the fact it skips a person will leave us to decide if we're selfless or selfish enough to doom another player."

The young man looked at you as if you kindly slapped him.

"I...didn't realise I said that out loud. Sorry."

You softened your gaze and smiled.

"It's ok. I'm glad. Really glad to meet a human being. I'm Y/N."

"Kang Dae-ho," the young man doesn't smile, but offers you a hand and you note the slight shiver in its fingers.

"It's going to be OK, Dae-ho. At least that's what I'd tell you if I thought you'd believe me."

You grip his fingers in firm yet gentle reassurance.

"It's going to be OK, and these games will be over soon."

"Huh?"

But you didn't say anything else, only realised that you too said that out loud without meaning to.

❥❥❥

This was bad.

Too many players ascribed the status, it was chaos. Some tried to pretend to be babkas to avoid being hunted. Some tried to hide, and some tried to throw other players to the wolves. And you? You were running for your life and Dae-ho was fast behind you.

Somehow, you ended up close again.

The only people seemingly having fun were the purple haired man and his odd companion with eyes you wouldn't wish to meet on a dark evening. And they too had the status.

"If you get marked, touch me, I have longer legs."

The hurried whisper behind you dispersed the cries in your other ear and you turned around to shout back:

"And I have no reason to hurt you, Dae-ho. What are you thinking?!"

The young man pushes you ahead to keep running.

"I'm thinking that we're done for because the amount of marked people far outweighs any safe ones and the best way to go is to get marked now and give it away just before the limit runs out!"

You scoff and run to the other side of the field, Dae-ho still keeping up.

"That means you're left with the status, and you're getting eliminated," you hiss back.

Dae-ho doesn't reply, only jumps in front of you, arms outstretched just as the purple haired man leaps for you.

One shoulder strikes back as if he got hit, and he turns to you.

Red moon on Dae-ho's chest.

"That's my choice to make, Y/N."

You wanted to tear that sticker off the young man and scream at him all at once.

But the time limit stopped you.

30 seconds.

Dae-ho touched you, effectively giving the sticker to you which you pinned to your chest.

"What if I don't touch you back, Dae-ho? You're safe, I'm marked."

You begin to race between the players, further chaos disrupting the groups, the couples, the new friends or foes. People getting stepped on, kicked, beat just to have a chance at giving the sticker away.

You tripped over a curled up body.

15 seconds.

Dae-ho caught you.

10 seconds.

He grabbed your arm and forced your fingers to close over the sticker, mimicking you giving it to him with your own hand.

5 seconds.

You closed your eyes as you felt the hand leave and couldn't bear to not shield your ears.

"Time limit reached," and the cheerful voice in the loudspeakers was drowned out by gunfire and screams.

Spaced out further and further.

But somehow, worse.

You looked up as pink guards walked among terrified players, turning them over, dragging them around to spot the sticker or its residue. You noticed only now that even torn off it leaked red into the tracksuit. No way to hide.

Begging.

Crying.

A triangle guard pushed a gun into you and forced you to turn on your back. Seeing no sticker, he began to push you with the gun to get up.

"It's ok, I'll take care of it. She's with me."

You blinked. Your arm got taken into a strong palm and dragged up.

Once you were stable, it let go and you followed the flurry of hair in a little bun back to the other players, back to the dorms.

You didn't even notice the same triangle guard get shot in the head by a square guard once all the players were gone.

❥❥❥

"I can't believe we got out," the young lady with a round belly said.

Gi-hun nodded, saying nothing.

"Such a cruel game," an older woman said, "we played it as little girls. Now this."

The man who assumed was her son patted her shoulder, looking around.

You followed his gaze and stared at the group led by purple hair and sinister eyes.

They were quite loud and quite happy. Giddy, if that word could be used in a place like this.

The way they directly played into the childishness of the games with their own reaction made it even worse. You turned back, ready to walk away for some alone time.

Your plan was half a dare, half a reckless abandon. You wanted to ruin the games and get shot all at once.

All because of an argument? No.

No.

No, not quite. It was all such a mistake. You got up to leave.

But steps followed you.

"Y/N, wait."

You turn around.

Dae-ho looks both worried and glad to see you. He grabs the air by your coat, as if stopping himself from directly touching you midway, but quite desperate for you to stay. His eyes miss yours, but you see the effort in them.

"You can stay with us. I asked."

"Dae-ho,” you slowly articulate, catching his eyes, “you were as good as dead and took that choice away from me. I am fine on my own."

You tried not to sound cruel, but it came out cold. You saw him wince and immediately softened your tone.

"I'm...Sorry, I...didn't want you to get hurt for a stranger. You look like you have a future, and you seem kind. It would be a shame to lose someone like that."

You tried to smile.

"How did you even manage to lose the status?"

Dae-ho looked momentarily stunned before gesturing to his group. The group seemed bigger now. Perhaps you imagined it. There was the mother, the son, Gi-hun, his friend, the young lady, and...no, you didn't imagine it.

Dae-ho relaxed his stance and seemed to wish to smile, but his face was still lined with echoes of the horror.

"A player did the same to me as I did to you and disappeared, he found us just now."

The young man pointed behind you and let his arm fall to you, landing on your elbow to come join them. The closeness of the touch was warm and not entirely unwelcome.

But you softly untangled your arm and hushed so that others wouldn't hear.

"Just to be safe."

Dae-ho nodded like you just told him the secret of the enigma code.

And against your better judgement, you giggled just a tad, just enough to make your lips smile and heart shed an icicle.

Then the number on his jacket screamed back at you.

It'll happen again.

It'll all happen again.

And as you walked behind Dae-ho, shielded by his large form, the group welcomed you back, one by one. You smiled and bowed, and Dae-ho knocked on the shoulder of the man he pointed at earlier, the man who effectively saved his life.

You were so glad to meet him now, realising how odd kindness is in a place like this.

"Mister?" Dae-ho addresses the figure turned away with respect, even if he's half a head taller. The new presence was mid-discussion with Gi-hun.

"This is..."

"Y/N," the man turns around.

Your throat goes dry, ice climbs up your chest and your brain short-circuits in blind shock.

No.

This can't be happening.

The voice, polite, quiet, and seemingly warm goes on:

"Sorry, I heard the others talk about you. Miss Y/N, correct?"

That smile was faker than your holding it together.

"Y...yes...and you are...?"

The older man chuckled, tone incredulous and so believable you wanted to run. As if he was daring you to say something. Daring you to play along or disobey. And though it was unnoticeable to the others, you saw that smooth darkness dance across his eyes as he took you in.

"Young-il," he smiled and offered a hand. You took it and the touch that enveloped your hand was so light yet so intense you saw his gaze flicker to your lips, your eyes, and then calm down again. But you saw it.

"Lovely to meet you..." your voice trails off, "I think I need to...wash my face."

You don't even wait if you're heard, you just half walk half run to the ladies room and narrowly avoid the other colourful group.

And every time you blink or close your eyes, he’s there. Calm as red-hot iron. Patient as a snake about to suffocate its prey. Smooth as poison soaked in cotton.

❥❥❥

As the night settled in, so did the players. You heard arguing about bunks and lay down as far down as you could. You hoped the darkness would lend you anonymity.

And it seemed to work, because you could see Dae-ho's very specific shape going around the group to wish a good night and subtly looking for you. You hadn't spoken to him since you got out of the bathroom and you barely met the eyes of the others, trying to nod and smile to remain polite.

And avoid a certain pair of eyes like the plague.

You were about to wave to Dae-ho and hide under the light covers when the air changed.

You thought you imagined it, being so paranoid and worried, but the thickness of the air gave way to reality.

A shape shifted the weight of your bed just enough for you to notice you're no longer alone.

It didn't turn to you, it might as well had been muttering to itself. Not uncommon in a place like this.

"Running isn't your forte, Y/N."

You froze, eyes taking in the darkness in unblinking surprise.

Half sitting up, you bite your lip but say nothing. That voice. That smooth, calm voice that wished you good night just a few days ago. Now coated in venom.

"I could have had you dragged out. I could have you disappeared. I could have him shot."

You know that's a lie. A lie or pure self-sabotage. And you lean closer to whisper, not about to risk anyone hearing you.

"I have nothing to say to you. Whatever you're doing here, it's more stupid than my intentions, and believe me, those are..."

"...incredibly short-sighted, Y/N."

Even now, even with all your anger and will, his voice got under your skin. And it was displeased in a way that oozed a need to put you in your place. And the helplessness twisting into quiet rage only spurred it on. Yet outwardly, he looked relaxed. As if recounting an old memory.

"Y/N…The moment I touched the bed and found my fingers grab air, you took any humanity I had left with you. Now it's yours to deal with. I thought..."

The man's voice grew low, and you instinctively leaned down to hear him. The man still didn't move nor turn to you.

"I thought you were hurt. I thought they'd taken you; the worst delusions I harboured each day…in that moment…they all came true."

He reaches behind himself and places a hand on your knee, cradling it in false tenderness. You know his worries. You know them well. Ever since you first appeared on camera, ever since you got out and tried to rejoin. Stalking the recruiter, anything to get back and ruin the games. And that was interesting. Entertaining. And this man knew you caught the eye of the people watching. And every evening he'd make sure you're there, safe, next to him.

"Who knew humanity could be so fickle, little one," the voice smiles through the dark. Not ‘dear’, not ‘darling’. Little one.

He grabbed your knee and squeezed hard, still not looking at you.

"Because those delusions have no place to go but reality now, Y/N."

You open your lips, trying to keep from shivering. Though you're surrounded by other players, you feel entirely alone.

"What...what do you mean?"

Finally, the man turns to you, face shielded by darkness but still very much discernible. Polite, measured, level. A mask. And he smiles that little corner smile that has sealed the fate of so many before you.

"You wanted a game. I will play with you."

A finger taps your kneecap, caressing towards the inside of your legs.

"You wanted violence. I will hurt you."

Your breath caught and stopped as he whispered the last sentence:

"You wanted decimation. I will ruin you."

His hand suddenly left your knee, as if it was never there. And on cue, Dae-ho finally recognised your shape and slid right into the bed next to yours. Absolutely unaware. His voice sounded relieved.

"There you are, Y/N! I thought we'd lost you."

The young man chuckled and curled up under the light blanket.

"I was thinking - oh, good evening, sir, my apologises, I didn't see you at first."

The older man softly smiles up to his eyes and pats the bed next to your feet.

"Quite alright, I was just reminiscing with our new companion. Hm, miss Y/N?"

Before you could answer, Dae-ho, as unaware as ever, was positively glad to hear that.

"I had the exact same experience with Jung-bae. Sir, do you have a bed yet? I still owe you my life, the least I can do is find you a safe place to rest."

Young-il waved his hand and got up slowly, a small polite tilt of the head in thanks.

"Thank you, Dae-ho, I'm going to stay here - safety and all that. Strength in numbers."

The young man next to you smiled into the darkness, and his face went blank once more, as if the weight of the situation came back from hiding.

"That's wise. But Y/N, I was thinking...what would you like to do when you get out?"

He thinks we're getting out...

Even the older man stilled, waiting for an answer. Curious as a cat watching a mouse run in circles.

You tried to shift away from the older man, but didn’t wish to engage with the kind presence to your left for fear of dragging him even further down than you already have. If you were a betting person, you’d place it all on Young-il squeezing each knuckle of his seemingly relaxed arm imagining your throat somewhere in-between.

Your voice is a careful hum against the slowly dissipating noise around.

"I'd like to see the ocean and have a big family," you softly reply, voice low but gentle, "something I thought possible before ending up here."

The air to your right grew thicker. You didn’t dare look, but a part of you was wishing for a reaction – anything to assure you he’s struggling as much as you, that any humanity still is fighting for both dear life and your own preservation. Or perhaps you would like him to throw the game away first and prove both of you wrong. But there is only silence and tension, mirrored by the clueless sweetness to your left.

"Of course it's possible," the young man levelly breathes, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"I would very much like the same. Except for the ocean. I'll stay with rivers and streams, but family? One of the reasons I'm here. Tell you what, Y/N..."

Dae-ho shifts towards you to be leaning on his elbow half in jest, half serious.

"If it’s not too forward, what's your favourite ice-cream flavour? And if I guess it right, we can share it at either the edge of the sea or at the Kaen river. Since it looks like the sea when it rains."

Whatever possessed you to say that?!

Your brain wishes to scream at him, face a still mask, eye slightly twitching. You shift under the covers, careful not to look to your right.

The atmosphere there positively tightened to stone, and you could hear a stifled cough from a very low breath dissipate into a steady, controlled, heavy demeanour once more.

"It's..." you begin to speak but stop yourself.

"...not that interesting, you're very sweet, Dae-ho. I'll be right back."

You get up like a shot and slide between the two men. Aiming for literally anywhere else. Because were it not for the older man who you're sure is sporting a set of brand-new veins throughout his cool demeanour, you'd feel warm in your chest. You already do. And that's not good.

Even if it wasn't precisely what Young-il expected you to do, it was precisely what the orders corresponded to. Because nobody could see nor hear the gloved hand over your mouth and the subtle drag of your legs, nor the click of the main door behind you.

❥❥❥

And it only took a few minutes for the older man to excuse himself, explaining that he'll go check on your safety - that you allegedly shared you're not feeling well with him earlier and that it's ok, Dae-ho can rest.

Young-il walked up to the same door and knocked softly, the guard opened the small window and upon seeing his face, wordlessly let him in.

Nothing suspicious, nothing obvious.

The moment the door closed behind him, Hwang In-ho walked the colourful hallway and his steps, rhythmic and pedantic yet heavy in their promise, made their way up to you.

Donning his uniform once more, he stepped into the room. Hair back. Eyes cold. Demeanour like a devil sick of sin.

He said nothing as he watched you, hands tied and lost for words, neither fear nor panic in your eyes - expecting him to be gentle.

Forgiving.

He almost smirked.

How wrong you were.

❥❥❥

The face remained a mask even without the geometrical costume.

He sat in the leather chair, finality in his eyes.

Then he got up, and you thought you saw the man you loved - but the vision twisted on your senses as if looking into a funhouse mirror.

First, In-ho leaned on each arm of the chair you rested in. Studying you. Looking for hints of betrayal. Torn clothing, misplaced details, a bra strap out of place. Hair gliding across your features, out of order. He always liked it tidy until he didn't - he loved to hold the storm on the pillow and loved you when you looked elegant for him.

But now, the eyes were glassy, the expression numb. Sharp. And indifferent.

"In-ho..." you hush against your better judgement, ready to argue or apologise, or even antagonise, anything to break the façade before you.

Because there was nothing more terrifying than the Frontman without his mask.

But In-ho only made a small movement of the head from left to right, and you stopped immediately. Pursing your lips into a line. The hint of approval in his slowly closed eyes assured you not to speak.

The arms reached to you wordlessly, mechanically, and grabbed you to stand upright. With ease and aid of your crumbling legs, he forced you towards the bed.

Both hands gripped each of your shoulders and pushed you on your back with such ease you felt like a doll. You stumbled over the edge and landed on the soft mattress, satin sheets still smelling of the mixture of the both of you. It made your head spin as much as his form closing the distance between you in two easy, deliberate steps.

Not a hint of gentleness, not a hint of care.

You barely managed a fast inhale and a wince before he was on top of you, tearing at your tracksuit bottoms with the brutal indifference of a surgeon. Dragging them down just enough to cup your hip and squeeze. Thumb digging into your tender flesh, drawing circles in your skin. His other hand positioned your arms above your head and moved to slide under your shirt, finally letting you hear his slowly deepening breath.

In-ho stilled, letting the moment, the gesture, each contact with him sink in with cold finality.

Then he moved his hand to your chest, gliding under your shirt, slowly letting the fabric gather against his wrist as the sudden cold air hit your naked skin. The harsh, elegant fingers you remembered so well caressed and pressed into each new inch he discovered. Marking you.

But the man couldn't help himself. In-ho leaned down, dishevelled hair brushing your collarbone, and laid a kiss - soft and open mouthed - between your breasts.

You heard and felt the heavy exhale connect to your naked skin as he cupped your breast, using a single finger to circle your nipple.

You writhed in sudden electricity spreading from your chest to your lower body, directly connecting him to your innermost feelings - shame and need fighting, just as you were fighting in his tightening grip.

He began teasing, brushing, cupping - dragging a reaction from your throat and you shifted, but In-ho laid his head on your chest, squeezing your breast until you writhed under him, and listened for your heart - hurried, hurried heart - beating for dear life.

No place to move; his elbows had you locked against your own, his still suited arms left you nowhere to squirm to, and his fingers danced from tender inch to tender inch, remaining longer if he saw you wince. And he’d smile.

And you winced.

You winced as he pinched down on your nipple and held, a hint of a satisfied smirk gracing his lips as he took you into his mouth and bit down - as he pushed his hips against you so hard you gasped and let yourself be buried in the mattress by the man's harsh need alone.

Those soft whimpers tumbling from your half open lips as he touched further, harder, trailing to your other breast and pinching your nipple, drove him mad…and you remembered it well.

So you tried to use it and gave into your feelings, just for a moment, just for him. In-ho's legs immediately shivered against you and gripped at the outside of your thighs. You feel his need push down into your hips, hard, and he does nothing to hide how vast it is.

Soft, gentle moans, hurried inhales, hopping breaths and those sounds he used to find endearing escape your lips. Your shoulders glide against the smooth fabric and you feel a hint of skin brush his own as In-ho’s uniform lifts just a bit - but the man places a hand against your mouth, stiffening and lifting to look directly into your eyes.

"Quiet. You're not her anymore. Not yet."

And with that he tore at the waistband of your trousers, pulling them down with your panties in one harsh move. His hand guided itself to your most tender place and rested there, open palmed, possessive, letting you realise every torturous second between the promise and the deliverance.

Watching you like a predator watches squirming prey.

"Not until I..."

He slides two fingers around your opening to find the most sensitive spot and pushes down, drawing slow, meticulous circles, forcing you to arch your back against him against your wishes. Which he only uses to add force and turn your breath to a pleading whimper wishing to utter his name.

"...break you."

You feel his hand leave your mouth a grab your neck. In-ho bends down to kiss your lips before you can protest or speak - and you moan into the kiss as his thumb pushes down on your throat, daring to kiss him back. Tasting his lips. Quivering all the way down to his fingers rubbing against you the deeper he enters your mouth. But he grips your neck tighter and pulls away.

"I didn't give you permission to touch me, Y/N."

Without warning, In-ho dives in and tears at your mouth. First, he touches, trails, and sucks on your cupid bow, then moves down to take in your lower lip and bites down. The moment your lips part to moan, to speak, to react - he forces his tongue into your mouth and silences you entirely, lips crashing into yours, not letting a breath in between his yearning.

Stealing every tortured hint of a voice for his own.

He circles your tongue, gliding and biting down in the wetness, exploring, feasting on you like a man dying of thirst and drawing your body into a pool of broken need, wet and hot, his. You feel yourself grow wet under his touch, and your movements become sharper, desperate, warmer then burning - and he smirks into the kiss as he realises so well what he's doing to you. Feeling your body betray you.

Betray you for him.

His fingers stop their motion, and you whimper, forcing him to look up from the kiss and study you. In-ho's hand is still between your legs, fingers going up and down in periodic slides. Enjoying each breath and quiver into him they force out.

"Almost my good girl, aren't you..." he whispers low, kissing the corner of your mouth, his warmth and closeness excruciating in its double signals. You want to hold him, melt into him, beg him to be closer and let him inside - and yet you loathe him, fear him, and want to turn his satisfied smirk into a vision of sorrow.

"Almost," he whispers against your ear and looks you directly in the eyes as he forces two fingers inside of you without warning.

You gasp and arch, moving with him and look away, breaths turning to rhythmic moaning with his growing movements.

"In-ho, please..."

Your head turns and buries into the pillow, and he tightens his grip on your neck, squeezing air out of your throat until you have to break. Turning your head with a single finger, slowly adding force. You can see it in his eyes.

Beg me and I'll let you breathe.

Beg me and I'll ruin you.

He spreads you with his fingers and forces himself deeper, teasing the soft arch inside of you while using his thumb to circle the tender spot outside, noticing how your movements grow rapid and fidgety and utterly desperate caught between pleasure and pain, hatred and need of him.

"You're so beautiful," the voice comes as an echo reverberating through your mind, breath hot on your ear as he leans in, forcing his fingers to go faster, deeper, his chest hitting your breasts each time your hips thrust.

"So beautiful when you're mine."

Then suddenly, a harsh dull noise forces you to jump and him to freeze.

The receiver in his breast pocked buzzed and a voice crumpled by static comes through.

In-ho brushes your forehead lined with frown lines and beads of sweat, laying a kiss upon it before harshly grabbing for the object under his suit.

But he doesn't pull out of you. Only relaxes his movements a tad, daring you to keep quiet. You grab onto the sheets and feel your body quiver, scream, protest – and you see him look at you with a mixture of pity and satisfaction. Lips half open, eyes sharp. His other hand pushes the button and waits.

"Sir, a situation among the players."

In-ho leans down and kisses your breast before replying, daring you to make a sound. You purse your lips, your breath fast and low, to which he replies with a deliberate pinch of his thumb – and you soundlessly bury your back in the sheets and your face in the pillow.

You could still see him mouth ‘good girl’ at you before responding.

"Solve it," he almost growls into the receiver.

"Sir, we tried, we didn't wish to bother you. But it's getting out of hand."

In-ho's movements stop, and he slowly pulls out of you, drawing lines on your exposed thigh. His movements seem so poisonously calm, yet his voice and steady body speak nothing but anger and discontent.

"Solve it. I'll be there soon."

"Sir?"

In-ho was glaring at you as he held the object in his hand, eyes so cold yet so penetrative you felt the need to hide and take cover.

You tried to move away very slowly as he wasn't directly on top of you anymore, but his free hand immediately gripped your thigh so harshly you nearly yelped and he dragged you right back to him.

"Don't bother me again."

And he clicked the receiver off.

"I wonder..." In-ho muses to himself, still gripping your leg and hoisting it above his arm to grab your behind, "if you still taste like her."

❥❥❥

[m0reighn4]

I saw you had your requests open!—I was wondering If you could do write about Sakadays men (Specifically Shin, Uzuki, Gaku [HEAVY ON GAKU], Nagumo and Tenkyu since I feel like no one writes about him! [Althought it's fine If u wanna leave him out]) on what's their fav thing to do in bedroom, or what do YOU think they would be inclined to like the most. 🙏

Get creative on it, i'm just thristy af for Gaku 🤤🤤🤤

Shin

Hand holding. It's not a question.

If we're being completely honest with each other, it really actually means intimacy in general— closeness, kisses and slow loving— but he isn't against trading a few of those off. What isn't negotiable is handholding! If things get heated, you best believe his hand is finding yours and linking your fingers with his.

I know I've mentioned it before in another fic too, but Shin likes intimacy. Especially if its quiet, calm. And it's during these moments that he refuses to read your mind. It simply adds.

But because he won't read your mind to get a clue on what you're thinking, he'll just have to go for the next best thing, how you feel.

A twitch of the fingers means that he's doing something right. And if you squeeze just a bit too hard it means that you're overwhelmed and need to be called down— preferably with kisses.

"Fuck, fuck... it's okay, pretty. Just breathe. Here, hold my hand. Squeeze it, if it gets too much, 'kay?"

Uzuki Kei

I feel he'll be very much into eye contact.

The saying, "The eyes are the gateway to the soul" means a lot to him. This is the case for a lot of things.

When coupling this with the fact that he thinks your eyes are the most beautiful piece of art he'll ever have the privilege of witnessing, his love for eye contact makes 10× more sense.

Because there's something about the; the way the sparkle in the light like precious gems, the way they soften around the edges when gazing at him, or the way they get glassy when you're overwhelmed with pleasure. Whenever he peers into your eyes, he always sees something new to marvel at.

But on your end, it makes you feel seen in the most uncomfortable way possible. His eyes simply bore into you, studying every dip and curve, every expression, every jerky motion— all of it is studied under his gaze.

"Mhm... taking it so well for me, dear. Just need you to look at me with those pretty eyes of yours."

@muoo910

Gaku

He likes pinning you down.

Gaku is strong and he knows it. He definitely enjoys knowing that he has the strength to protect you. But it's also a plus that he can use that same strength to give you pleasure.

Hand around your neck, pushing your hips down onto the bed, pinning your hands above your head. You name it and he is definitely locking you down that way— with your consent, of course.

But ignoring his own sick joy, it also has it own perks! Because you get so squirmish while he's fucking you; how is he meant to work with that?!

He almost sees it as a game— giving you so much pleasure that you can't keep still, but then still forcing you you anyway. (Like I said, sick joy.)

"Come on, bunny. Stay still. Can't make you feel good, if you're gonna keep squirmin' around."

Yoichi Nagumo

He loves to tease you.

This guy. He's a prankster at heart. Silly little jokes and lies to get a reaction, suddenly disappearing and then reappearing, springing this out to scare you; anything and everything to get your heart racing. And this doesn't get left at the door!

His hands and mouth with always be on you, but never in a way that can truly get you off; just enough to feel pleasure, but not enough to get you there.

He knows that you're always on edge around him and he thrives on that knowledge.

But, should you ever find yourself being comfortable around him, he reminds you why it wasn't possible in the first place.

Nagumo is not above taking his sweet time to even touch you people. And by the time he does, you're quite literally dripping. Think that's where he stops? No! He'll then teasingly build you up, only to strip you of your peak. All of that, just for him to coo in your ear and calm you down, whispering sweet nothings and even sweeter promises. (Asshole.)

Good news is; when he does decide to stop playing around and properly get you off, you best believe that it'll be the best orgasm you'll experience in your life! Trust!

"Ah, ah, ah! You really thought! Aw! Don't cry. Okay, one more time, I promise, it'll feel so good."

Tenkyu

Tenkyu loves making you weak.

Something that brings him joy is watching to see what makes you tick.

Because he is something of a sniper, I doubt he has any issues with precision. So he very quickly learns what makes you squirm. And it definitely isn't long before he figures out what makes you moan just the way he likes.

He gets an almost sick pleasure in knowing that he has you where he wants.

Even worse is that he's a quick learner. This means that once he has caught onto a weak point, that's when you're done. He's latching onto it— making sure to poke, prod and caress it just to hear you gasp and whine.

And when he's feeling especially 'bored,' he'll poke at them for funsies, just to watch you jerk.

The only silver lining is that this also means that he knows how to take care of you, both during and after sex. So it isn't all bad.

"Oh, you feel good? How about if I touch here? Oh! Guess that's a new one! You would mind if we played with it for a little longer, would you?"

a/n: Making this took embarrassingly long. And I apologise. After a hectic term of exams and my whole design project (one where I make a whole ass BOOK from scratch) I can finally write fanfiction in peace and actually start working on all my requests that have come in! Plus, I don't have school for 3 weeks, so I can finally crack down on all my requests and personal projects! Everyone cheer right now!👹

Surprisingly, I haven't had much time to actually read the manga, so I went and read on Tenkyu as much as I could. I only do it because I am a woman of the people! ✊🏽😌 I shall never leave my under-fed brethren starving in the cold when I can help it!

Otherwise, how are we feeling about the mini quotes? I don't normally do stuff like that under my headcannons (since I can't write dialogue for shit) but let me try. For the people! 😝😝

Doc, she's acting up again. Please put her back on her meds or sumn 😐

Like my work? Check out my other masterlists!

[saturnyo]

Guitar Strings & Gunpowder

Pairing: JacksonEllie x Blind Reader

Summary: You've been on your own for as long as you can remember, save for the occasional partnership when you needed supplies. Life after the outbreak was tough for everyone, especially you...since birth, you were blind. Having to learn how to go through life and survive infected and other terrible shit life throws at you. One day, while taking a rest from traveling, someone approaches you and her offer to help changes your life.

Warnings: Blindness/Disability Representation, Mild Violence/Tension, Romance and Intimacy, no smut(sorry)

WC: 2.3k

Snow had a unique sound to it.

The way it would crunch underneath your boot. Or the feeling of it against your palm as you crushed it in your hands.

You wanted to understand the feeling of being free, of being uninhibited. You can take care of yourself; in fact, being born blind helped hone your skills, sharpening them beyond what everyone could do, and what they never bothered to develop. Living in this world, surrounded by near-death, fear, and silence, constantly forces you to rely on no one. And not to let them take advantage of the fact that you couldn’t see. There were no secret superhuman powers, just your grit, patience, and your stubborn refusal to give up.

And right now, your boots press into the snow that’s colder than usual, sloshy and slick as you searched for supplies.

Your supplies had been running low for quite a while; the only things left were a small bottle of water and a can of peaches, which you were sure had mold in it from being stored on a shelf for over twenty years. You hadn’t cracked into it just yet, not wanting to come to terms with the fact that you could go hungry in a matter of days. Everything you came across was picked over or destroyed, and no one had the heart to offer supplies. Which, in a way, you understood, but it still didn’t help your situation.

The stick in your hand tapping in front of your feet helps you know where it’s safe to step, aside from the birds chirping, the only other sound in your ears. It was a welcoming feeling hearing nature reclaim its space after everything fell apart, but what came after the fall was terror. It made you tougher, smarter, but more cynical. Stopping to take a breather, you find a log to sit down on and take a moment to rest before continuing, with no actual destination in mind.

A few moments pass

And then you heard it…footsteps.

It’s not infected, but it could be a raider or someone else wanting to take advantage of a lone girl in the woods. You quickly stand up holding the stick like a baseball bat.

“Who are you?” you demanded, trying to hide the slight shakiness in your voice.

There was a pause. The wind is blowing through the trees. And then a voice, sweet and soothing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice said. “It wasn’t my intention.”

Her tone held complacency, but also a command. Not to demean you, but to calm you.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” you said, firm now.

“Ellie. I’m from Jackson. Just out on Patrol.”

Patrol. The word settles uneasily and makes your stomach churn. The type of people who take what they want and do not apologize for it.

You straighten your spine, raising the stick higher.

“And why the hell are you sneaking up on people, Ellie?”

“I wasn’t trying to,” she said. “I saw you were alone, thought you needed help.”

“Wrong.”

The silence settled again. A bird chirped only once.

You hear her shift on her feet, even though you couldn’t see, you could still feel. And her eyes were searching you, gauging what kind of person you could be.

“Are you going to swing that stick at me?”

“Depends. You plan on getting closer?”

Another pause. Then a silent, short chuckle.

“No. Not unless you want me to.”

That caught you off guard. Her voice wasn’t condescending. It was calm, not cocky. Not pitying. Just honest.

You didn’t lower the stick, but you didn’t raise it higher either.

“Jackson, you said? This is Wyoming?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yes, we are a few miles north of here. It’s walled off, and there’s warm food. Beds. Whatever you need,” Ellie explained.

You were still wary, regardless of the other half of you screaming to go with her. It was a Hail Mary. A saving grace that you could get rest and food. However, who she is and what the rest of Jackson could be like remains unknown.

“I’ve been on my own for a while. Not big on trusting people,” you muttered.

“I get that,” she said softly. “I’m not going to bother you. But if you are hungry, you can join us.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

“Me and my patrol partner. Her name’s Dina. I told her to stay back.”

You narrowed your eyes, though it was more for show than to intimidate.

“What’s the catch?”

“None. You don’t owe us anything; we want to help.”

A dry, humorless laugh fell from your mouth. “That’s not how it works. Everyone wants something in exchange for help.”

“I used to think like that, too,” she whispered. “But I’m being honest. You don’t have to ride back with us or walk next to us, you can walk near us if it’ll make you feel better.”

You didn’t answer. You let the space and silence settle between you again, weighing your options. It’s either risk it and continue on your own, or head back with Ellie and Dina. And if she hasn’t figured it out yet, Ellie will find out you are blind. And that could pose more troubles than it’s worth.

“No strings attached?” you asked again

“No strings,” Ellie responded.

You held your gaze directly at her, a skill you learned not to let anyone know that you couldn’t see.

“Fine,” you said, gathering your pack off the forest floor. You could hear footsteps turn away. Not to run, but allowing you to follow. A pit of fear settles in your stomach at the thought of having to trust anyone again, but you had no choice. You needed supplies.

The sole thought of getting shelter, away from the infected and others who would try to hurt you, was the only reason you were going.

And for right now, that would be enough.

Ellie’s eyes were on you as you walked down the main street of Jackson, almost studying you. She’s been quiet since you passed through the gates. Not silent in a suspicious way, just thoughtful. Like she was holding a question but hadn’t found an intelligent way to ask. The stick you were still using tapped lightly against the ground with each step. You kept it low, less obvious. Not broadcasting what it was for, but you didn’t hide it either. If Ellie thought it was for balance or the only option you had as a weapon, that was fine. You let her assume.

You could hear kids laughing nearby. Horse hooves pounding against the ground. Hammers clinking against metal. The town was full of life, and people were happy. It was noise, not chaos, a hum of something, something living. An experience you hadn’t heard in so long.

She was still there beside you, silent. Steady. Ellie hadn’t really spoken a word since you two met. There was a moment, quick but real, where you turned your foot a bit too much and stumbled. The ground shifted beneath you, and before you could correct yourself, there she was. Her hands caught you, quick and precise. They were soft and warm. Her touch was different. And even though you just met, her hands on you were the first ones that didn’t feel wrong.

It didn’t feel invasive or hesitant—no awkward fumbling.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to grab you like that. You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You adjusted your grip on the stick again, letting the moment pass. There was more quiet between you. Not uncomfortable, but heavy with thoughts neither of you spoke out loud.

Then she asked, soft and careful. “You uh…been to a place like this before?”

You kept your face towards hers. Or at least you hoped you did.

“Not like this,” you said. “Usually, they don’t let in people like me.”

“People like you?”

You didn’t answer her right away. Let her wonder. And she didn’t push. But the silence between you had changed. More heavier. Another thirty paces before she tried again, making sure she was more careful and thoughtful this time.

“Do you always hold a stick like that?

Now that made you pause. Not because it offended you, but because it was the first time someone had really noticed you in a long time. Really seen you.

You gave a quiet shrug. “It works.”

“Is it…is it for finding your steps?” she asked.

No sarcasm. No pity. Just a unique sense of curiosity. You stopped. So did she. The sounds of the town moving on around you were still playing in the background. Although you couldn’t see her, she was still there. Her presence was undeniable; you couldn’t help but try to look in the direction she was in.

“It is. Not saying it can’t be difficult at times, but I’ve learned to deal.”

She didn’t gasp. She didn’t give any false “oh god, I didn’t know.” Ellie’s breathing steadied, taking in the realization of what she suspected.

“Okay,” she said, before turning and waiting for you to follow the sound of her footsteps. Eventually, you placed a hand on her arm, and she took it, helping you down the street towards whatever else is waiting for you.

Some time had passed, and now it was New Year's Eve. You had settled into a place of your own, and of course, Ellie helped you learn your way around. It wasn’t because she thought you were incapable, but almost like she couldn’t stand you being alone. You brushed away the warmth that spread every time she was near—or ignored how her voice sounded when she was whispering to you at the cafeteria when you wanted to know what was going on around you. It didn’t mean anything that she always showed up every day, at the same time, waiting to take you to the greenhouse. After you had met Joel, Tommy, and Maria, you told them how you wanted to contribute in whatever way you could. You casually mentioned your love of plants, although you hadn’t tended to any in a while, considering that outside Jackson’s walls, you didn’t have time to garden.

But now tonight, the snow was falling, creating a scenic backdrop to the festivities. There were a few people outside, mainly children being chased by their parents or teenagers gossiping together in a group. You were inside, sitting down at the table with Maria and Joel beside you. They kept you company while everyone else danced to the band playing. Ellie was off to the side, speaking to Jesse, when she saw you sitting there swaying in your seat to the music. The unmistakable sound of her footsteps approached you.

“You gonna sit here all night with these ancient beings or do you want to dance?” she remarked.

Joel, sitting beside you, scoots his chair back a bit. “I’m not ancient,” he grumbled.

“Yeah says the man who can’t go a minute without complaining about his knee pain.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but you could sense there was a smile in his words.

Ellie’s gaze turned back to you. “Let’s dance.”

You blinked, taken aback by her question. Dancing was something you didn’t know how to do. No one bothered to teach you.

“Dance? Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure how—”

“I got you,” she cut in, her hand reached out, grabbing yours and pulling you to your feet. “I won’t let you fall.”

Her hands caress yours as you let her pull you to the dance floor, and a slow song begins to play. The softness of her skin beckons you to follow her as you ignore the anxiety building in your chest. Your palms were sweaty, and your chest rose up and down in a pace that hurt. Ellie leads you to the center.

“Just follow my lead and I’ll make sure you are ok,” she murmured.

You nodded, unable to speak, as she stepped closer, her chest touching yours.

“I’m gonna put my right hand here..”

You feel it land on your waist, her fingers gripping slightly.

“And my left hand will go here..”

She grabs your right hand, enveloping it in her left. Ellie begins to guide you through the steps as the music makes your bodies sway.

“Step to the left..”

You stepped, your foot brushing hers, your breath catching slightly.

“Good,” she murmured, her lips close to your ear now. “Now to the right...”

You moved again, stiff and uncertain, then softening with each step she led. Ellie was warm. Steady. She kept her hand on your waist, not moving lower, not pulling you closer than you allowed. But she was there, her chest brushing against yours.

The music was filling the space between you. Something old, romantic, and smooth that made the world feel slow. Softer. You breathed her in. The faint scent of cedar and something sweet…like soil clinging to her clothes from patrol earlier that day.

“Still with me?” she asked softly.

You nodded, your voice lost somewhere in a daze.

Ellie shifted, her cheek pressed against yours as she leaned in.

“You’re doing perfect.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “That’s generous.”

“I don’t lie about important things,” Ellie whispered.

She guided you through another step, her thumb stroking slowly across your knuckles. You could feel her skin shake against your own. And you couldn’t help but do the same.

“You’re trembling,” she whispered.

“I’m not used to this,” you admitted, voice tight.

She took a break, this time slower. More careful.

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m not letting you go.”

You tilted your head slightly, following instinct rather than reason. “Ellie…”

She stopped moving. So did you. The music still floating around you. Her thumb swept along your jaw, your eyes closed, as she leaned in, savoring the feeling.

“Can I?” she asked.

You nodded yes, and her lips met yours, tentative at first, searching.

Then you kissed her back.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely real. Full of every unspoken thing that has been building over the last few months since she first saw you that day in the woods.

When she pulled away, Ellie looked at you, and you felt her smile again.

“Want to keep dancing?”

You nodded. “Only if it’s with you.”

[asterlark]

me and den @unloneliest were just talking about murderbot and ART's relationship and i want to discuss how they quite literally complete each other's sensory and emotional experience of the world!!

there's a few great posts on here such as this one about how murderbot uses drones to fully and properly experience the world around it (it also accesses security cameras/other systems for this same purpose). but i haven't seen anyone so far talk about how once MB stops working for the company and consequently doesn't have a hubsystem/secsystem to connect to anymore (which for its entire existence up to that point had been how it was used to interacting with its environment/doing its job), after it meets ART, ART starts to fill that gap.

ART gives MB access to more cameras, systems, and information archives than it would normally be able to connect with while MB is on its own outside of ART's... body(? lol), but also directly gives MB access to its own cameras, drones, archives, facilities, and processing space. additionally, so much of ART's function is dedicated to analysis, lateral thinking, and logical reasoning, and it not only uses those skills in service of reaching murderbot's goals, it teaches murderbot how to use those same skills. (ART might be a bit of an asshole about how it does this, but that doesn't negate just how much it does for murderbot for no reason other than it's bored/interested in MB as an individual.)

we all love goofing about how artificial condition can basically be boiled down to "two robots in a trench coat trying to get through a job interview" (which is entirely accurate tbh) but that's also such a great example of ART fulfilling the role of both murderbot's "hubsystem" and "secsystem", allowing it to fully experience its environment/ succeed in its goals. ART provides MB with crucial information, context, and constructive criticism, and uses its significant processing power to act as MB's backup and support system while they work together.

from ART's side of things, we get a very explicit explanation of how it needs the context of murderbot's emotional reactions to media in order to fully understand and experience the media as intended. it tried to watch media with its humans, and it didn't completely understand just by studying their reactions. but when it's in a feed connection with murderbot, who isn't human but has human neural tissue, ART is finally able to thoroughly process the emotional aspects of media (side note, once it actually understands the emotional stakes in a way that makes sense for it, it's so frightened by the possibility of the fictional ship/crew in worldhoppers being catastrophically injured or killed that it makes murderbot pause for a significant amount of time before it feels prepared to go on. like!! ART really fucking loves its crew, that is all).

looking at things further from ART's perspective: its relationship with murderbot is ostensibly the very first relationship it's been able to establish with not only someone outside of its crew, but also with any construct at all. while ART loves its crew very much (see previous point re: being so so scared for the fate of the fictional crew of worldhoppers), it never had a choice in forming relationships with them. it was quite literally programmed to build those relationships with its crew and students. ART loves its function, its job, and nearly all of the humans that spend time inside of it, but its relationship with murderbot is the first time it's able to choose to make a new friend. that new friend is also someone who, due to its partial machine intelligence, is able to understand and know ART on a whole other level of intimacy that humans simply aren't capable of. (that part goes for murderbot, too, obviously; ART is its first actual friend outside of the presaux team, and its first bot friend ever.)

and because murderbot is murderbot, and not a "nice/polite to ART most of the time" human, this is also one of the first times that ART gets real feedback from a friend about the ways that its actions impact others. after the whole situation in network effect, when the truth of the kidnapping comes to light and murderbot hides in the bathroom refusing to talk to ART (and admittedly ART doesn't handle this well lol) - ART is forced to confront that despite it making the only call it felt able to make in that horrifying situation, despite it thinking that that was the right call, its actions hurt murderbot, and several other humans were caught in the crossfire. what's most scary to ART in that moment is the idea that murderbot might never forgive it, might never want to talk to it again. it's already so attached to this friendship, so concerned with murderbot's wellbeing, that the thought of that friendship being over because of its own behavior is terrifying. (to me, this almost mirrors murderbot's complete emotional collapse when it thinks that ART has been killed. the other more overt mirror is ART fully intending on bombing the colony to get murderbot back.)

in den's words, they both increase the other's capacity to feel: ART by acting as a part of murderbot's sensory system, and murderbot by acting as a means by which ART can access emotion. they love one another so much they would do pretty much anything to keep each other safe/avenge each other, but what's more, they unequivocally make each other more whole.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Could you do poly Tristan and Lancelot hc with a fem s/o?

Haha, hope this was okay anon! It’s always nice to write for either of them to be honest.

Its the wholesomeness I got in spades with these two!

Individually they are very great partners on their own, but both of them? Oh wow, you got real lucky! You are the most well-protected girl in the expanse of Britannia against any opponent. They can be a bit of clashing in terms of personality, but you can tell they always mean well for not just for yourself, but each other too. It's a working circle the three of you had managed, albeit perfectly.

Lancelot is full of worries most of the time, and he worries a lot. Even if he doesn't express it, he's come to care way too much about you and Tristan alike. You both stole a place in his heart and won't move out, and that almost scares him.

Tristan sometimes is stuck between a rock and hard-place, usually trying to be the one to amend things when going through bouts of agreements or difficulties that brought out very big emotions. But still, he could understand too, the idea that you could just suddenly lose your life and leave the other two in the process can be rather terrifying.

Life with them can tend to either swing from complete peace or complete and utter chaos, you can never truly tell what to expect. But that was only part of it, and you still chose to stick with them regardless.

Bathing together is a complete and utter rarity, many do it privately for very valid reasons. But in spa's? It is very much going to be all three of you, it's nice to be content and speak about the simple things of life.

Regardless if you are as about as strong as they are, or even weaker, they will both still very much express worry over you.

Lot's of private and domestic moments, especially during cuddle sessions. You're mostly kind of squeezed in between them or even other times your spooning Tristan or Lancelot from behind while the former holds the other.

Tristan is mainly the wounds taking care of wounds, he always insist anyway, and you couldn't say otherwise - having goddess powers really did come in handy often. Yet it was the intimacy of it whenever you or Lancelot would do it for any or all three of you, it was personal, but refreshing in a way.

Between the three of you, silent rage is truly something personal if either of you got injured. You all vow for each other and protect each other, so god help the person that injured even you, Lancelot or Tristan. If it's you alone that would have gotten injured, it's two very angry and powerful boys that the opponent would have to deal with.

Your smile and laughter? Absolutely knocks them both out (not literally), its the way the lines are so ingrained, the way the light frames your face perfectly when you smile and throw your head back to laugh. Its in the way that you have stolen their hearts so completely that they look at you like you're everything to them.

When you have your days of peace, without carrying out duties or patrol, you have dates. Which most of the time you usually suggest or bring up, other times it would be Tristan marking up the idea. However, whoever actually plans is usually a flip of coin. Though between the three of you, it's surprisingly Lancelot who plans the best kinds of dates and takes both of you into consideration about what you're comfortable with.

Hand-holding, absolutely. While it is rare for Lancelot to actually take your hand or his, he does admire it from a safe distance when you and Tristan hold hands. but when it happens to be hand-holding with him, you quite literally have to hold back the urge to scream. He's an absolute dork when this happens, and it's frankly adorable.

Sometimes, though also rare, you accidentally end up mix-matching clothes. Tristan could have your shirt, and you could have one of Lancelot's many sweatshirts (listen I know he constantly wears that outfit, which he looks good in but still).

Practice and training lessons together! Perfectly ordered in actions, and the clashing of swords and magic. usually is more so one on one, but when the three of you all together want to really practice and work at it, you all train and go against each other.

Lancelot is protective of you both, but he knows better to overstep, he's got manners after all. He just can't help but worry at times if there is some bad even that is occurring, he worries about both of you and your health. Eventually breaths thats sigh of relief when he hears one or the other's mind, through the ability of his heart-reading.

In the dense sparseness of the castle hallways, you could be seen with Tristan, just simply having a delight by dancing together. There is another pair of eyes watching you thoughtfully, not a sight he expected to wake up to and find, but nonetheless a welcome one.

The shimmering rays of the sun dawned on the still-awakening land, leaving the bustling liveliness of Liones to begin airing. Filling each and every sleeping person who begins their day with a renewed sense of emotions and a new motivation to take on the day, be it quick or sluggish. Particularly in this case, it was you and Tristan who'd awoken way earlier then Lancelot had. This was a rare case, but either of you didn't want to awaken the sleeping wild prince. So the two of you had opted to simply leave him alone and not disturb his sleep.

You chuckled as you pulled along the beautiful white-haired nephilim, who was questioning at each turn where you were taking him too. You just told him to be patient and wait till you had gotten to your desired destination. Which didn't take very long to reach fortunately.

Tentatively letting go of your hold on his wrist, you stepped into the empty yet large room. it was the dining hall only used for balls and the celebrations of birthdays alike. Tristan slowed down to a stop, watching your movements as you walked around, hearing the bountiful echos of your footstep clack against the cold-hard stone. A small smile tugged on his lips, such a simple act, yet he couldn't help but find the beauty of the chastity in it all.

Like the haunting howls of a weeping ghost, yet it was such a wonderful and tearful cry. With all the stories interwoven, and one could tell, with the scratches indented into stone from numerous footsteps made in the vast expanse of the space. One could tell, he could tell, that it wasn't the ordinary everyday thing to set off such a wonderful morning.

"What'd you bring me here for?" He asked, whence finally daring to break the uniqueness of the silence, though he was dearly endowed in wanting it to last even longer. You turned your head, the flowing locks of your hair following along. Just a small smile, a barely noticeable grin as you clasped your hands tightly behind your back.

The windows were wide, and towering, leaving the light to spill in. Casting such an ethereal glow upon the colors that made up your appearance, Tristan almost seemed to be ashamed for allowing himself to set eyes upon such a sight.

It was certainly a far cry from what he was used to, and he wasn't sure if he was prepared for it. But akin to obstacles, he would push through it and succeed.

"I was wondering," You began, walking forward toward the prince of Liones. "If you wanted to share a dance?"

"A dance?" His eyes widened, though not in disgust or reprise. It was something else entirely, you weren't sure.

You let out a hum of affirmation, cheeks colored bashfully.

"I-I uh," he stammered, before shaking his head and pulling himself together. "That sounds nice, but i'm kinda a bad dancer though." He laughed, scratching the back of his head, cheeks dusted pink with embarrassment. Oh it was a wonderful, vociferous sight to see such a bashful expression on the prince.

You had contemplated your thoughts for a moment, and the current situation of circumstances. But you decided once and for all--

"Come on anyway!" You grinned, holding out your hand for him to take. "I'll help you, promise."

He seems to be turning within himself, eyes swimming with stout doubt. One blue, one green, both colors you had almost envied him for being born with. They fit him so perfectly, like a glove. You'd stare at them for eternity if you could, for it was in eternity that you had been born with the blessing to encounter not just him, but the grumpy blonde prince as well.

It was that you had been snapped out of your daydream that Tristan took your hand, so you respond immediately, pulling him close and swimmingly performing ornate moves, and even the silliest ones. Causing to elicit laughter from both of you when either of you mess up a move.

One stamp on the foot or on the other.

"Ow!" You wince, and Tristan's expression immediately turn to concern as an apology spills out of his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry!" He said, almost frowning as he held your waist, stepping somewhat backward as he waited for you to re-adjust yourself. Tristan didn't mean to make another mistake again.

You shook your head with a giggle, pulling him close again, and holding both his hands, removing them from your waist. "I like this, it's nice compared to the stuffy royal ball kind of dancing."

His brows turned, A small smile tugging at his lips, "Oddly specific, don't you think?" You shrugged your shoulders, a knowing expression betraying the notion.

Lancelot let out a groan, noticing immediately that two bodies of warmth had disappeared from the bed. He shifts onto his elbows, raising his brows in confusion as his sight had been wrought with bleariness. He got up, shifting the blankets, but he had folded them back rather neatly. His eyes shifting, somewhat sensing the way you two had left the room. Didn't even bother to wake him up as well, he almost groans bitterly at the thought, but it was immediately replaced with some appreciation for being allowed to sleep longer.

So he finally got up, and began his quest of finding the two of you.

Which honestly didn't take very long, considering the laughter and the barely noticeable echo of steps that seemed to repeated, song and dance, he didn't even need to use his ability to read thoughts. Lancelot wasn't necessarily sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't you and Tristan dancing together.

He let out a low hum as he encountered the sight, it was somehow in a way, refreshing. It tugged at his heartstring in a way he didn't realize they could be, as he leaned against the large doorway, hands in the comfort of his pockets.

Lancelot could notice the clear smile on your face, and Tristan's face. It was a certain he was almost sure he didn't deserve to lay his eyes on. But he was content, nonetheless in drinking in the sight of beauty and laughter.

The drawled scent of petrichor and the comforting air drafted the once musty hallways, spilling in from the vast expanse of the empty ballroom naught for the two bodies making it sing so lively. It was one spin, then another step then two steps, that he was sure that he was so, so lucky to find such a sight.

Lancelot's head was tilted in thought, the energy imbuing him with a sense of rejuvenation he never had felt before, the assurance of living as long as your partners. The excitement of memories to come, and surely he was sorely going to imbed this to memory for as-long as he lived, and Lancelot sure as hell didn't mind the thought of that.

"You're pretty silly sometimes, I swear Tristan," You comment, sticking out your tongue as you looked at him, quite a wide grin.

The whiter-haired prince shook his head at your remark, letting out a small scoff as he pulled you close. Enrapturing you in a surprise hug, then pulled back.

"I believe you are... sillier than I." He punctuates with a goofy expression, as he pats your head, and you just smile, features softening almost impossibly.

"Could be me, but there's enough of that goin' around."

You and Tristan's heads had turned to the source of the voice, finding Lancelot to be the source. You jumped in surprise, almost stammering, "What? how long have you been there?"

"Long enough to see you two prancing around." He shot back, you could almost see the expression of fatigue slowly wearing out from existence on his face, you assume he had recently awoken.

Tristan just laughs, crossing his arms, "You wanna join us? It's pretty fun." He said, a remarkably kind smile on his own face. Your eyes flit between him and Lancelot, and yet then, only you and Tristan burst out in laughter. While the blonde just scoffed, pressing forward to join you both in the room.

But, he really couldn't deny it, always enjoyed the sights of beauty.