#and then they explored each other's bodies

[morporkian-cryptid]

I'm reading The Murderbot Diaries (book 3: Network Effect, so, spoiler alert), and man, Murderbot's relationship with ART makes me insane. It's like, you're an insufferable asshole. You're my best friend. Saying that word makes me retch. You're the only person in the universe who could possibly understand what it's like to be me. I can't possibly understand what it's like to be you. I must look like an ant to you. I've put my unconscious body in your hands and let you alter it. We both love our humans to the point of destruction. You've killed people to protect me and my friends. You only did it because you were between two jobs and bored. We watch TV shows together. I saw you have an emotional breakdown about a historical drama. You could kill me in a hundred different ways. I've brutally murdered several people to avenge you. You were ready to kill all my friends to save yours. I've brought you back from the dead. You're keeping us prisoner. I'm your only chance of saving your friends. I've lived and traveled inside your body, and you've been a passenger in my brain. We don't even know each other's real names.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : OFF SCRIPT : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None! Mentions of (Y/N)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You star with Hugh Jackman in a steamy movie, but the lines between acting and reality blur when Hugh starts developing real feelings for you. After confessing his jealousy and attraction, you realize you feel the same, and the two of you go off-script to explore a genuine connection.

Based on this request.

THE MOVIE SET WAS BUZZING WITH EXCITEMENT, lights flickering, cameras rolling, and the tension in the air palpable. You’d landed the lead role in an upcoming erotic thriller—a bold career move that had sparked more than a few raised eyebrows. However, what really set tongues wagging was your co-star.

Hugh Jackman. The Wolverine. The greatest showman himself.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. At 55, Hugh was a global icon, still radiating that rugged charm and magnetic energy that made audiences swoon. You, on the other hand, were in your early thirties, on the rise, and wondering how on earth you’d ended up in a movie where you’d have to—well, you know—get intimate with Hugh Jackman.

The director had wasted no time throwing the two of you into the deep end. The first few scenes together? Explosive chemistry. And Hugh, ever the professional, made it feel so natural, even though you both spent half the day either semi-naked or in bed, pretending to tear each other’s clothes off.

~🎬~

"Alright, everyone, places!" The director clapped his hands, signaling the next shot.

You glanced at Hugh, who was casually leaning against a prop desk, shirtless. He caught your gaze, and for a moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes. Something that wasn’t just acting. You brushed it off as nerves.

"Let’s do this," you muttered to yourself, adjusting the strap of your robe, which you’d soon be dropping.

Hugh approached you, flashing that million-dollar grin. "You ready for this?"

"As ready as I’ll ever be," you replied with a nervous laugh. "I’m still not sure how you can do this with such confidence."

He chuckled, voice low and warm. "Years of experience, love. Just remember, it’s all choreography. We’re professionals."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Right. Professionals. Naked professionals."

Before he could respond, the director’s voice boomed again, "And…action!"

The scene called for you to push Hugh up against the wall, all passion and heat, and for the next few minutes, that’s exactly what you did. Your bodies pressed together, lips inches apart, the camera capturing every bead of sweat, every intense breath. But between takes, there was something more—an almost imperceptible softness in Hugh’s touch, a lingering glance when the director called cut.

~🎬~

Later that day, you found yourself in another steamy scene—but this time, not with Hugh.

Jake, one of the other actors, had been cast as a secondary love interest, and while your chemistry with him was nowhere near as electric, it was enough to sell the scene. You were mid-take, kissing Jake on a couch when you noticed Hugh watching from behind the camera. He was supposed to be off set for this, but there he was, arms crossed, a small frown on his face.

"Cut!" The director called. "That was good, but I need more passion, (Y/N). Really go for it."

You tried again, but the second your lips met Jake’s, you caught Hugh’s expression in your peripheral vision. Was he…jealous?

The next take was even worse. Your brain refused to cooperate, replaying the image of Hugh standing there, looking like he was about to burst through the set like Wolverine in a rage.

Finally, the director let you both off the hook and called for a break. As you got up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you felt a presence behind you. Hugh.

"Bit of a rough take, huh?" he said, his voice low, but his eyes held a teasing glint.

You spun to face him. "Were you watching?"

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged, trying to look casual. "It’s hard not to when…you know…" He gestured vaguely at Jake. "You’re out there, doing that."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Doing what, Hugh?"

His lips twitched into a smirk, but he quickly suppressed it. "Nothing. Just… I mean, does it have to be so steamy?"

"Uh, yeah, it’s in the script," you teased back, crossing your arms. "Are you getting jealous?"

"What?" He let out a laugh that sounded way too forced. "Me? Jealous? Ridiculous!"

You stepped closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Sounds like jealousy to me, Jackman."

"Okay, fine, maybe a little," he admitted, running a hand through his hair, that charming grin back on his face. "I mean, I get it. I know it’s acting, but…you know, it’s weird seeing you kiss someone else. Especially when we’ve, uh, done…everything but that."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, remembering your more intimate scenes with him. "Hugh, you do realize that we’re supposed to be acting professionals, right?"

He sighed, his smile turning softer. "Yeah, but sometimes, things get a little blurry. At least for me."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Wait… are you saying you…?"

"I’m saying I might’ve caught feelings for you somewhere between take seven of that bedroom scene and the moment you pushed me up against that wall," he confessed, his voice serious now.

Your heart did a weird flip in your chest. This was not in the script. "Hugh, I—"

"Look, I know there’s an age gap, and this is all very unprofessional, but…" He ran his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with himself. "I don’t know, (Y/N). It’s been getting harder to separate what’s real and what’s not."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the director called everyone back to set before you could get a word in.

~🎬~

The rest of the day was a blur, Hugh’s confession playing on a loop in your mind. By the time you wrapped for the day, you found him sitting in one of the trailers, staring at his phone, clearly deep in thought.

You knocked softly on the doorframe. "Hey."

He looked up, his face softening as soon as he saw you. "Hey."

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. "So…about earlier."

He stood up, his hands slipping into his pockets, suddenly looking far less like the confident actor you knew. "Yeah, about that…"

"Was that you going off-script?" you teased, though your heart was racing.

He chuckled, but his eyes stayed serious. "Something like that."

You took a deep breath. "Well, for the record…I think I’ve been blurring the lines, too."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You have?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Yeah. I mean, how could I not? You’re Hugh freakin’ Jackman."

He let out a real laugh this time, the tension in the room breaking. "And you’re (Y/N) freakin’ (L/N)."

You smiled, taking a step closer. "So, what do we do now?"

He shrugged, stepping toward you as well. "Well, there’s no script for this part. I say we improvise."

With that, Hugh closed the gap between you, pulling you into a soft, lingering kiss—one that felt far more real than anything the cameras had captured all day.

And for once, it wasn’t acting.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @haytchee @corvusmorte @shybluebirdninja @chronicallybubbly @evasmlp @lex-the-flex

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!

[obsessedwhyyes]

Beneath the Blood and Starlight

Summary: Awoken from a nightmare, you seek a moment of reprieve down by the river, only to find your mysterious vampire companion - covered in blood. As you help him with his mess, you realise that perhaps there's more to his rakish, teasing façade: a vulnerability that you had not anticipated. A moment of intimacy ensues.

Rating: T Word Count: 3096 Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Content: Act 1, pre-romance, fluff, early bonding, non-sexual intimacy, flirting, feral cat Astarion. Warning: Starts with a nightmare sequence featuring depictions of ceremorphosis, in case that's an issue.

A/N: What was meant to be a cute, fluffy little drabble grew arms and legs and turned into several thousand words. I wanted to explore some non-sexual intimacy, in the context of Act 1 where everyone is still learning about each other, so here we have some typical Act 1 Astarion flirting, some banter, and some exploration of Astarion - the person, rather than the vampire spawn.

It was a night like any other.

The campfire warmed the faces of the merry band of travelling companions you had accrued throughout the course of your journey. The strangest bedfellows one could ever imagine, but amidst the chaos of your journey up to now, the sound of laughter was a joyous reprieve; a rare moment of peace.

Your gaze was drawn inexorably to Astarion who sat across from you. Firelight danced across his pale skin as you watched him, and he caught your eye then. A mischievous smile played at the corners of his mouth and your heart fluttered, just a little.

“Darling,” he purred, raising a finger to point to you, “you’re bleeding.”

You were?

Your hand reached for your face, feeling a slickness trickling from your nose. Strange. You hadn’t noticed any pain.

Suddenly, the firelight seemed too bright, the laughter too loud.

Something was wrong.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your body was wracked instead with a fit of coughs. You could not breathe.

You doubled over, and an ache spread throughout your jaw - a pain unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your innards felt ready to burst out of you.

“Are you alright?” Astarion’s voice was tinged with an uncharacteristic concern. Moving quickly to your side, his cool hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. But as your eyes met his, you recoiled in horror.

A mindflayer.

Where Astarion’s once beautiful face had been, you were greeted with orange eyes, burning with malice, sharp teeth like cut glass within a tentacled maw, and slickened, wet skin. Yet, his voice remained the same, teasing and rakish - a jarring contrast that set your heart pounding, limbs begging you to flee.

You tried to scream, but your jaw felt wrong. It cracked, a sickening sound that reverberated through your skull. The pain was excruciating, blinding. Something writhing and slick attempted to push its way out of your throat and you choked.

Astarion-Not-Astarion’s hand, still cool against your feverish skin, stroked your cheek almost tenderly. “That’s it,” he cooed, his voice a twisted parody of his usual flirtatious drawls, “embrace the change.”

You looked around wildly. All of your companions had transformed, their familiar faces replaced by disgusting, terrifying… No, beautiful, evolved, magnificent alien features.

“Change,” they chanted. “Change. Change…”

You bolted upright, a strangled gasp escaping your lips. Cold sweat drenched your skin as you wildly scanned your surroundings. The familiar sight of your tent came into focus.

Your heart pounded in your chest as realisation set in. A dream. It was a dream.

It was a night like any other.

And that was precisely the problem.

Sleep, you decided, was no longer an option.

There was a river in the woods nearby and you were in desperate need to cleanse yourself of the sweat which clung to your still shivering body. Or rather, you needed something, anything to distract yourself. And so, packing washcloths, you left the confines of your tent and snuck away into the woodlands.

–

The sound of running water called to you, a moment of solace drawing nearer. Or so you thought, until a familiar figure came into view.

It was Astarion, sitting by the river's edge, moonlight gleaming across his pale… Bare skin.

Assuming you'd stumbled in on something you shouldn't have, you averted your gaze hastily, a blush crawling up your neck. “A-ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude!”

“It's just my shirt, darling. No need for such modesty.” Astarion’s voice carried a hint of amusement, clearly privy to your embarrassment.

A moment passed as you attempted to recompose yourself. Looking up, he was indeed just shirtless. 

Thank the gods for that.

As you drew closer to him, you noticed the blood smeared across his face - evidence of a recent hunt.

Truth be told, he was a bit of a mess. Crimson streaks painted his cheeks and chin, with a particularly gruesome splatter across his left temple. Some of it had begun to dry, flaking at the edges. It was a stark, almost beautiful contrast against his pale skin - a reminder of the predator that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

You sat across from him, trying to ignore the way the moonlight played across his bare chest.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Out for a midnight stroll or were you just hoping to catch me in a compromising position?”

You rolled your eyes, though you were grateful for the familiar banter. You tried not to recall the events of your nightmare, the lingering tendrils of which still threatened to send you into a blinding panic. In a way, you were grateful to have stumbled across Astarion on your journey out here. As much as you told yourself otherwise, being alone was perhaps not what you needed right now.

“I just needed some fresh air,” you said, less than eager to give away the finer details of your predicament.

Your gaze fell on a needle and thread beside him, and a hole in his shirt draped across his lap.

“What happened?” You asked, nodding to his shirt, in a hasty attempt to change the subject.

“Ah, this? I was unfortunate enough to get tangled up with a particularly feral boar this evening. The little bastard didn't get very far though.”

Well, you thought to yourself, that explains the blood.

As he picked up the needle and resumed his repairs, long fingers moving with practised ease, you found yourself curious. “I didn't know you could sew.”

“I'm a man of many talents. I'd be happy to give you a… private demonstration, if you like.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Isn't it exhausting trying to talk your way into my trousers all the time?”

“Who says I was trying to talk my way into your trousers?” Astarion gleamed.

You fixed him with a doubtful look, eyebrow raised. In response, he reached into his pack which rested behind him, and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to you. As you unfolded it, you gasped. Delicate florals, intricate patterns adorned the fabric, embroidered with a meticulous care and skill that you would have attributed to the tailors and seamstresses of Baldur's Gate’s Upper City. It was as if he had captured the essence of a moonlit garden, with silvery threads weaving a tapestry of nocturnal blooms and shadowy vines.

“Gods, Astarion. You made this?”

He nodded, a flicker of genuine pride crossing his features.

“It's beautiful,” you breathed as you ran your fingers across the stitches. “What a wonderful talent to have.”

Something shifted in Astarion’s expression - a flash of vulnerability quickly masked. 

“Yes, well, one must find ways to pass the time. Keep it, if you like,” Astarion continues, attempting to feign disinterest. The look in his eyes told a different story.

“Thank you,” you said. You meant it.

A moment of silence passed between you, punctuated by the gentle bubbles and burbles of the river as it flowed.

“I don't think I have any special talents of my own,” you mused, more to yourself than to him.

Astarion glanced up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I'm sure you have some hidden talents. I'd be more than happy to help you explore them, if you like. In my tent, perhaps?”

You raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze.

Astarion grinned, unabashed. “That time, I was trying to talk my way into your trousers.”

You laughed then and gods, did it feel good to laugh on a night like this, even with the familiar feeling of heat rising to your cheeks. This dance between you - this constant push-and-pull - had become almost comforting in its familiarity. Of course, you had considered his offer - he had not exactly been subtle about his intentions with you. But you weren't quite ready to give in. Not yet, anyway.

Your laughter settled, and something in the mood shifted as Astarion turned his gaze from you to the river.

“Truth be told, Cazador didn't give us much beyond the clothes on our backs. I had to learn some things for myself.”

The admission hung heavy in the air. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, despite the venom that laced his voice at his former master’s name. 

“I'm sorry,” you said softly. Once again, you meant it.

He shrugged, forcing a lightness into his tone. “It’s not all bad. Using my hands to create something beautiful - it's a welcome distraction. It lets me feel… well, not good, but less terrible for a while.”

You nodded. You never knew quite what to say in these moments. Astarion had only recently begun to open up to you regarding his past, and each story drew forth a maelstrom of emotions from you. Sadness at the gods-awful role he was thrust into; guilt at not having been there for him sooner; anger, not only at Cazador, but at those who had the opportunity to save him but chose not to, as though his vampiric nature made him less worthy of the safety that all who live, crave. You could only imagine the feelings which raged like a tempest in him.

It was in moments like these that you had to admire just how brave he really was.

You were snapped out of your ruminations when Astarion finished his mending. You caught a glimpse of a sharp, pointed fang as he used it to cut the thread - an action which shouldn't have been as fascinating as it was.

He stood and slipped on his shirt.

“Well?” He asked, with a twirl and a flourish. “What do you think?”

“Perfect as always,” you replied, then paused. “Except for, well, the blood on your face.”

Astarion’s eyes widened in indignation. “And you're only mentioning this now?”

You shrugged, fighting back a grin. “I thought the feral look rather suited you.”

“You absolute freak,” he scoffed, but there was no real heat behind the words.

“I can help if you want.”

As you dug into your pack to procure a washcloth, your intentions clear, Astarion’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He recoiled as if you'd brandished a weapon, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Absolutely not.”

Pride and uncertainty marred his voice. You recognised the look in his eyes - the same wary glance of a feral cat, torn between the desire for help and the instinct to flee.

“Come on,” you coaxed, keeping your voice soft, even. “It's not like you can look in a mirror.”

You had hoped humour would de-escalate the situation.

It did not.

For a moment, anger flashed in his eyes - a cornered predator lashing out. But as he met your gaze, something in his expression shifted. The fury melted to uncertainty, then a flicker of longing so brief you almost missed it.

Astarion’s body language was a mess of contradictions. He leaned slightly towards you, as if drawn by an invisible thread, only to catch himself and pull back. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but the words lacked his usual bite. “I don't need– I mean, I'm perfectly capable of–”

“If you don't need my help, that's okay. We don't have to do this if you don't want to.”

Astarion’s eyes darted between your face and the cloth, held loosely in your hand. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“Why?” He asked.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. Why are you helping me? Why care?

“Because I want to,” you answered simply.

Something in Astarion’s expression cracked then, a hairline fracture in his carefully constructed façade. He gave a jerky nod, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Well,” he said, his tone aiming for nonchalance but missing by a mile, “if you insist on playing nursemaid, who am I to stop you? Though I warn you, darling, caring for me can be a dangerous pastime.”

The words were pure Astarion - flirtatious, guarded, with a hint of threat. The words weren't quite acceptance, but they were close enough.

“I'll take my chances,” you teased softly, patting the ground beside you, prompting him to sit.

He complied with an obvious reluctance, perching on the edge of the riverbank as if the ground might swallow him whole.

As you wetted your washcloth in the river and moved closer to him - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin - you notice him tense at the anticipation of your touch. His eyes were squeezed shut, face turned slightly away from you. But you were gentle as you placed the cloth to his cheek and began to wipe away the streaks of crimson from his face.

The sounds of the world around you dulled, faded to a murmur as you tended to him, as though the leaves had stilled their rustling and the river its gurgling. In this moment of suspended reality, your focus narrowed to Astarion’s face and the myriad of emotions playing across it.

His hesitation, his vulnerability - it struck you how monumental this simple act truly was. Here was a man - a vampire - who had known centuries of cruelty; who had learned to weaponise his charm and keep the world at arm’s length for his safety. And yet, he was allowing you to see him like this: uncertain, teetering at the edge of trust.

The weight of his concession settled over you like a blanket. Each micro-expression that flickered across his features told a story of internal struggle - the tightening of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his eyes squeezed shut as if bracing for pain that wouldn't come. It was a dance of contradictions; a battle between ingrained distrust and a longing for gentleness.

In this frozen moment, you realised that what you were offering wasn't just a clean face. It was acceptance, care, a touch unburdened by expectation or demand. And for Astarion, perhaps accepting it was an act of bravery greater than any he'd shown in battle.

With careful strokes, you cleaned the blood away from his cheek. You worked slowly, mindful of the tension in his jaw. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, he began to relax under your ministrations.

“Turn your head for me?” You asked, softly.

Astarion complied without a word, tilting his face to give you access to the other cheek. His eyes remained closed, but the furrow in his brow had softened.

You resumed your task, gently working your way across his features. A stubborn smear of dried blood at the corner of his mouth, another at the hollows of his cheekbones, droplets that had spattered at his forehead - all melted away before your eyes with each glide of the wet cloth, unveiling his pale skin.

As you worked, you found yourself studying him in a way you never had before. His elven features were a study in contrasts - ethereal beauty intertwined with the weathering of time and hardship. High cheekbones caught the moonlight, throwing delicate shadows across his face. His skin, where it wasn't marred by blood, was like polished alabaster, smooth and luminous.

As you gently moved to cleanse his temple, your fingertips brushed against a strand of his hair - silk curls spun from starlight.

Yet it was the imperfections that truly drew you in. Fine lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, like a map of laughter and sorrow etched by the years. His brow, while regal, bore the weight of exhaustion, a testament to the burdens he carried.

There was something mesmerising in the juxtaposition - this timeless, otherworldly beauty marked by the unmistakable signs of an unlife born of hardships and losses yet unspoken between you. But each line, each weary shadow, only served to enhance a grace that time and pain could never fully erase.

Your hand paused, cloth hovering near his cheek, as you realised you'd been lost in studying him. In that moment, beneath the moon’s gentle gaze and the river’s whispered song, you saw not just the elf; the vampire; the mysterious travelling companion, but the man - beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly captivating.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, catching you in your reverie. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. The air between you was filled with unspoken words and possibilities. 

It was… intimate.

“See something you like, darling?” Astarion’s voice was soft, lacking its usual sharp edge of sarcasm. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made your breath catch.

You smiled softly, resuming your gentle ministrations.

“Just making sure I didn't miss any spots.”

You weren't quite ready to voice the thoughts swirling in your mind.

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by rippling sounds of water as you periodically dipped your washcloth in the river to wring it out.

As you shifted to clean the last traces of blood, you finally looked up again to meet Astarion’s gaze fully.

“There,” you said, “I knew there was a handsome man somewhere under all that filth.”

Astarion’s lips quirked into a smile - not his usual smirk, but something softer.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for your… attentions,” he murmured.

The moment stretched between you, fragile and charged with possibility. For a heartbeat, you thought he might lean in; might close the distance between you. But the moment passed, leaving behind a mix of relief and something that felt dangerously close to disappointment.

You cleared your throat, breaking the spell.

“We should probably head back to camp,” you suggested, your voice steadier than you felt.

Astarion nodded, rising to his feet with his usual grace. As you gathered your things, you felt his eyes on you, thoughtful and considering.

“You know,” he said as you started back through the woods, “I think you might have one hidden talent.”

You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

His smile was enigmatic, tinged with something you couldn't quite name.

“You have a remarkable ability to surprise me. And that… that is no small feat.”

As you made your way back to camp, the weight of your nightmare felt lighter. And if you walked a little closer to Astarion than strictly necessary, well, that was just to avoid tripping in the dark. Nothing more.

It was a night like any other and yet, as you settled back into your bedroll, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Astarion. A new understanding, perhaps, or the first trembling notes of a melody yet to be fully composed. Whatever it was, it sang you to sleep, keeping the nightmares at bay just this once.

No Pressure Tag List: @roguishcat @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard

[thewickedjazzy]

Artificial Paradise ➵NSFW MDNI ˎˊ˗

➵Pairing: soft dom! fyodor x afab! reader.

➵Summary: fyodor helps you with your studies, but things start to get a bit heated between you two.

➵Tags and word count: 1.8k nsfw, minors dni, fluff, smut, soft dom! fyodor, teasing, explicit language, rough sex, gentle aftercare, light biting, praise, mutual desire.

➵A/N: @charkvc 's request, sorry pookie, i accidentally deleted the ask by mistake (｡･-･), but hyg, thank you for the sweet request i'm always down for fedya's big brain.

you sigh in frustration, rubbing your temples as you stare at the dense pages in front of you. how on earth are you supposed to write an entire analysis on hamlet in just one day? the play feels like trying to run a marathon in quicksand, and hamlet’s constant overanalyzing seems to stretch endlessly.

you notice your lover's presence in the room immediately, feeling his slender fingers gently resting on your shoulders. his touch is ever so gentle, soothing even as he begins to knead the tension away.

“fedya, how am i supposed to finish this?” you murmur, glancing back at the daunting stack of papers scattered across the desk.

his lips curve into a soft smirk that you can feel more than see. “you’re overthinking it, my love. hamlet is just like you—burdened by choices, unsure of the right path.” his fingers press into a knot in your shoulder, and you exhale in relief, the stress momentarily forgotten.

“you’re making it sound too easy,” you sigh.

he hums, lowering his lips closer to your ear, his warm breath brushing against your delicate skin. “let’s start with the basics. what does hamlet fear the most?”

“death?” you answer, almost instinctively.

“not quite.” he gently holds your arms from both sides, rubbing them softly. “it’s not death itself he fears… it’s the uncertainty. the unknown.”

you pause, your mind working to decipher his words while he continues to massage you, each touch making your skin tingle.

“he fears what comes after?” you murmur, leaning your head back to look up at him. he looks ethereal in his black half-sleeved turtleneck, his hair tied back in a low, messy ponytail, with a few strands softly framing his face and one resting between his eyebrows. his amethyst eyes, half-lidded, gaze tenderly over you.

he chuckles lightly, his soft tune ringing in your ears. “exactly. now, let’s use that. how does it relate to his indecision? and how does shakespeare weave that into the soliloquy you’re struggling with?”

“well, uh..” you mumble, feeling your mind finally beginning to understand the coded texts, “he’s caught between acting and inaction because… he doesn’t know what’s worse—suffering or the unknown suffering that may follow.”

fyodor smiles softly. “excellent my dear. now, why don’t we dig a little deeper into that?”

his hands move along yours as he leans slightly from behind, hovering over your seated form. slender fingers gently take hold of the pen between your fingers, while his other hand rests on your left shoulder. he guides the pen smoothly, highlighting a few key lines.

“let’s explore how this fear of the unknown impacts his decisions,” he says, “look at how shakespeare contrasts hamlet’s contemplation with his actions. the more hamlet fears the future, the more paralyzed he becomes. we see this tension play out in the soliloquy.”

you nod, trying to follow up with him as he writes 'action' and 'inaction' in a beautiful cursive handwriting. the connection between his fear and his hesitation starts to become clearer, and the analysis begins to take shape.

but as you work, you can't help but find yourself distracted by how close he is. the way his body leans against yours and how his expensive cologne filling your senses. you gaze at him, admiring how effortlessly beautiful he looks. his features seem almost ethereal, and you can’t help but think how perfect a kiss would feel right now, completely forgetting the assignment.

“you’re distracted,” he says suddenly, glancing up and catching your admiring gaze. “focus on the text, my love. we need to get this done before 7 pm tomorrow.”

you try to shake it off, your attention returning to the marked passages, but it’s futile. the way the soft candlelight flickers against his skin, the delicate curve of his lips, the slow rhythm of his breath—it’s too much. your heart flutters every time his fingers brush against yours, guiding the pen, and the assignment feels like a distant memory.

he notices that you’re still not responding to his questions, and his smirk returns, teasing yet knowing. “you’re still distracted,” he murmurs, his voice lower this time, more intimate. his eyes, a deep shade of amethyst, meet yours as he pauses his explanation, leaning in just a fraction closer.

you swallow, pulse quickening, your gaze drifting to his lips. screw the assignment, you think, as the temptation becomes unbearable.

“fedya...” you whisper, the sound barely escaping your lips as your hand moves instinctively to his cheek, pulling him gently toward you.

he doesn’t resist. in fact, his smirk widens, as if he knew all along that this moment was inevitable. his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you in as his lips press against yours—soft, warm, intoxicating.

the pen slips from your fingers, forgotten, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer. his other hand finds your waist, gripping you firmly. the world feels like it’s spinning, and all you can think is that you never want it to stop.

your hands clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer as if you’re trying to fuse your bodies together. the taste of his lips against yours makes your mind fuzzy. the soft brush of his tongue occasionally meeting yours in a sloppy slow kiss. you feel his fingers tightening around your waist, his other hand cupping your cheek, completely getting devoured by him.

the candlelight flickers casting erratic shadows on the walls, mirroring the rare intimate moment. your focus narrows to the sensation of him—his warmth, his taste, the way he clutches you as if you’re the only anchor in a storm.

he pulls back just slightly, his lips brushing yours as he pants softly, orbs completely dilated with lust. “milaya,” he murmurs, “this isn’t helping with your assignment.”

you laugh breathlessly, “i think… i think we’ve found a new way to procrastinate,”

he grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “well, at least you’re not distracted by the texts anymore.”

he smirks before gently closing the gap between you, cupping both sides of your face as he presses his lips against yours again.

with ease, he lifts you and places you on your desk, the papers crumpling beneath you and pens tumbling to the floor. the fact that he rarely gets aroused like this only heightens your arousal.

you both share a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses, tongues exploring and breaths mingling in a heated exchange.

he slips his hands under your shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head tossing it aside. he leans down, kissing a trail down to your breasts, humming in delight as he inhales your sweet scent—flowers mixed with a hint of fruity lotion—oh how he adores the way you smell.

his soft, wet kisses continue down your skin as he expertly unclipped your bra with on hand, while the other holds you closer to him, the warmth of your body presses against the cotton fabric of his turtleneck shirt.

you press your hips against his moving in tight circles that elicit deep groans from both of you.

his hand that was holding you tight slides down to tug at your pants, and you eagerly help him get it off of you.

“this needs to come off,” you say with a half-chuckle, gesturing toward his turtleneck.

“giving orders now, milaya?” he replies, a teasing smile on his lips as he lifts the shirt over his head, revealing his pale, perfectly soft sculpted body. unable to resist, you lean in, kissing and licking along his chest and neck, your warm breaths brushing against his skin. soft mewls escape his lips as you explore every inch of him.

taking his time, he slowly removes the rest of your clothes, revealing your bare skin to him. soon, both of you are completely naked, your bodies molded together as you share another heated kiss. the warmth of your skin against his makes him harder every passing second that he thinks he might just cum from just being this close to you.

you feel his hands glide teasingly over your drooling cunt before he chuckles and pulls away slightly. "oh my love, look at you— hardly need my preparation"

before you can utter a word, he swiftly lifts you by your ass, sliding you along the desk and sending the remaining papers cascading to the floor. at this point, you hardly notice. he carries you to your shared bed beside the desk and sits down, pulling you to straddle his lap.

"my lovely darling, are you going to take your pleasure and ride me?" he murmurs against your lips and you whine softly humming in response.

his slender fingers guide your hips to grind against him as soft mewls escape your lips burying your face into the prominent crook of his neck.

you lift your hips to guide his tip into your slick entrance. even though he slips in easily, your walls stretch around him, yearning for the fullness you haven't felt in nearly two months.

sweet sweet soft moans escapes his lips, as your legs tremble trying to hold yourself up, only to sink down more on his cock. he spreads your ass cheeks with both hands helping you slide down on him easier.

you pull your head away from his neck, only to see the blissful sight before you—his eyebrows furrowed, eyes tightly shut, and jaw slack. as you quicken your pace, your moans blend with his soft mewls, and you both glisten with sweat while you bounce up and down on him.

"ngh- moya lyubov, let me hear your sweet voice," he murmurs, "ah- I missed you so much, milaya," his soft moans—oh those lovely soft moans, how he mumbles in his native tongue when he's too spent.

he starts thrusting up into you as you bury your face again but now into his chest, moaning against his skin feeling his cock twitch and pulsate before a sharp groan leaves his mouth.

his thrusts quicken, each one leaving you breathless for a moment before the next one knocks the air from your lungs again, your body rendered completely paralyzed by the picked up pace, his tip brushes against your g-spot repeatedly, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

then you feel the familiar heat coiling in the pit of your stomach, your ears growing muffled by the sound of your heartbeat. "fed-yyaa i- i'm coming aahh-"

you can’t help but grind against him, striving to keep pace, feeling him twitch inside you before he shoots thick streams filling you completely, throwing his head back with a deep moan. "bozhe! chert voz'mi da da" (translation: jesus! fuck yes yes)

he collapses back against the sheets, trying to catch his breath. you slide off him and join him, stretching your arms before resting your chin on his chest.

“you look so handsome with your hair in a ponytail like that,” you say, biting your lower lip to stifle a teasing giggle.

“ah, it has grown a little indeed... I’m thinking about trimming it down a bit.”

you lightly hit his hand, exclaiming, “don’t you dare!!!”

he giggles, pulling you closer to place gentle kisses on your hairline. “anything for you, milaya.”

[nino-rox]

KEEHO x Male Bottom Reader | S

Content Warning : NSFW Gay Smut, sexual themes, Top Keeho and Bottom Male Reader, unprotected sex (please use protection)

Disclaimer : This is a Fan-fiction story written for entertainment purposes only, no part of the story implies or affirms anything regarding real world events or individuals. Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post

(NOT PROOF READ)

My eyes were still tired, even though the sun was beaming through the blinds. I had the worst headache ever and felt so sick, as if I were in a hangover.

I groaned, turning on my side to grab a pillow, an action that unexpectedly hurt. My whole body ached. I slowly opened my eyes, looking over to the window, I squinted my eyes, as I felt an arm drape over my side.

What?

I looked over and saw an unfamiliar figure lying in bed beside me.

A man?

I blinked.

This has to be a dream.

I rubbed my eyes and turned around, the pain from my bottom made me gasp.

My stomach dropped, I didn't have a single clue what happened last night. I remembered going to a frat party with a couple of friends and then...

Oh god.

I had sex with him, didn't I?

The realization came to me like a wave.

How much did I drink last night?

I had a feeling I would never remember.

I was naked, the other man was also naked, and he was so close to me that I could smell his sweet scent. We were both now laying facing each other as he slept soundly.

He looked peaceful, and honestly, he was kind of crazy hot, but I had no idea who this was or why he was in my bed.

I tried to wake him up but was too scared to shake him.

I slowly removed his arm from me and got out of bed. I looked down and winced at the pain, my thighs were covered in purple and blue hickies and my bottom had the same coloring, only, they were bigger and redder.

I sighed and turned around to find my phone. It was on the nightstand. I went to grab it but accidentally bumped into the table, causing the lamp to fall off and the other man to jump awake.

I yelped, and we both froze, staring at each other.

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as I realized that he had a morning wood.

The man sat up, the blanket falling off his body and landing on floor.

We continued to stare at each other, unable to move or say anything.

"How was your night sexy?" He finally asked.

I hesitated, "Oh, uhm...,” his very visible hard on wasn’t helping. I didn’t know what to say or what to do.

The other man chuckled, "Don't tell me you don't remember. You were pretty drunk last night.

"Did we-"

"Fuck? Yeah, you were quite loud. I don't think your neighbors will be very happy about it."

I didn't know what to say.

"Do you not remember?"

I shook my head, "No."

"Damn, I wanted you to remember," the other man sighed, "well, since we both woke up like this, why don't we help each other out? Help you remember,” he said smirking, "come back to bed."

"Wait-"

But before I could finish, the other man grabbed my hand and pulled me back into bed.

I gasped as he kissed me, his lips were so soft, and the feeling of his warm tongue exploring my mouth sent shivers down my spine.

He pinned me down and I could feel his morning wood rub against me.

He smirked at my reaction, "you’re so hard, you want more, huh? Then let's have some more fun," he whispered, and started kissing my neck. As if instinctively, I tilted my head, and the man started biting and licking the spot where he did last night, making me moan.

"You liked it here right?" he mumbled, "I could tell by how loud you were screaming."

I moaned as he continued kissing and biting my neck, his arm snaking its way to my cock as the other grabbed my hair, pulling it and exposing my neck even more.

My body just gave in, getting turned on by the other man and letting him do whatever he wanted, as my arms wrapped around his neck.

He started stroking my dick as he rubbed his own against me.

"Mmm," he moaned, "I want to fuck you, lets go for round 2 baby? Huh?" he said as he bit my ear, "let me hear you say it."

I moaned, "yes, fuck me please."

He smiled, "that's what I like to hear," and kissed me. He let go of my dick and inserted his fingers into my mouth, "suck."

I looked at him but obeyed, and he continued stroking himself with his other hand.

I sucked his fingers and he removed them from my mouth and placed one of them at my hole.

He looked up at me and grinned, "ready?"

I nodded and he inserted one finger, and another.

I moaned as he scissored his fingers, stretching me, and began stroking his own cock. “Fuck baby you’re still loose from last night. You ready to take me now? Huh?"

I could only nod, my mind was in a daze.

"Then come milk me baby, you did such a good job last night, and now, I want to see you do it again."

I couldn't believe that this was happening. I didn't even know the man's name, yet, I was already moaning beneath him, waiting to take his cock.

He lined his cock at my hole and slowly slid in, and I groaned at the sensation.

He thrusted into me and we both moaned. He continued thrusting and I moved my hips, matching his rhythm.

"Fuck," he groaned, "you feel so fucking good."

He lifted my legs and put them on his shoulders, his cock hitting a different angle, and I couldn't help but scream, "oh fuck, oh fuck, don't stop, don't stop, mmm fuck,"

"I won't stop," the other man moaned, "but tell me your name."

I whimpered, "Y/N, and yours?"

"Keeho," he said, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper, "you like that ? Want me yo go faster Y/N?."

I moaned, "Ah AH, oh god, yes."

He grinned, "such a naughty boy."

He pulled out, making me whine, but then flipped me around and entered me again, and I screamed.

He gripped my hips, his thrusts becoming more aggressive, his skin slapping against mine, as he grunted.

I could feel myself cumming, "oh fuck Keeho, I'm gonna-"

"Not yet," he growled, and he slowed his pace, and started rubbing my nipples.

I moaned, as he bit my ear, "you gonna be good for me?,” he said as he groaned into my ear, and started pinching and pulling my nipples.

I could only whimper.

"Answer me."

"Yes."

"You want to cum?"

"Yes."

"Want me to fill you up?"

"Please."

"I'm almost there baby, but not yet."

Keeho continued thrusting slowly, making sure that the head of his cock hit my prostate with every thrust, and his fingers played with my nipples.

My body was on fire, his rod stretching you out, as it went in and out, his hot breath on my neck, and the way he was teasing my nipples were driving me crazy.

I couldn't take it anymore, "Keeho, I-,"

"Now," he moaned.

His hands left my nipples and he gripped my waist, his cock sliding out, and then entering, and he continued to fuck me hard, making me scream.

"Y/N, fuck," Keeho moaned.

I could feel him cum inside me, as I orgasmed.

I fell on the bed and he collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily.

"You are so sexy," he said, his voice still husky, "I could fuck you again."

“Let’s.”

Keeho kissed me, and we laid in bed, holding each other.

He smiled, his eyes sparkling, "I want to see you again," he whispered, his fingers tracing my chest, "would you be interested in seeing me again?"

[hubbypossession]

Liza and Lily were one of the cutest couples when they were alive. Both women found each other in their early 20s and married. They were happy for years before both tragically dying in a car accident that abruptly put a halt to both of their lives.

Now as ghosts, they can still have some fun, albeit in different ways. They had both always been very open to exploring their sexualities and being ghosts made perfect opportunities for this. They had tried being other lesbian couples and straight couples that moved into their house and of course it was fun, but recently a gay couple had moved into their former home which intrigued both spirits.

"I can't believe two guys are moving in here. This'll be a first." Lily said as both ghosts hovered above the boys watching TV on the couch.

"Well, you always scare all of our tenants and they end up leaving." Liza said exasperated.

"Hey! I'm just keeping things interesting. Are you... thinking what I'm thinking?" Lily said as they both watched the guys.

"I think I should be able to pick first. You owe me that much." Liza joked.

"Fine. After you, Liza." Lily yielded.

Liza flew down towards the gay couple and listened in closer to their conversation.

"Gus, c'mon babe. You gotta lay off the beans." The smaller guy, Spencer, said as he backed away from Gus on the couch. The two had been cuddling on the couch when Gus farted on Spencer's lap.

"Just keeping up my fiber intake for my boyfriend. C'mon babe, I thought you were into farts. My stink loving top of a guy" Gus says defensively before turning his attention back to the TV.

Liza looked disgusted at Gus and turned her attention towards Spencer. "Looks, like you will do Spencer. I'm not going to possess the fat, gassy guy."

Liza dove into Spencer's ear and spread herself out through his body as his eyes glossed over and his body went limp. She quickly overtook his body and opened her eyes and swallowed. Spencer now looked down at his hands and his shirtless body before smelling his pits in curiousity.

"So not into gas but you are into pits, huh?" Gus says as he crawls back towards his possessed boyfriend.

"Oh, uh, no babe. I'm good." Liza says as she backs away from Gus some more.

"C'mon babe, I know you want th-! AH!" Gus goes flying backwards as Lily dives towards his body and into his agape mouth.

Liza curiously approaches her new boyfriend as he convulses on the floor and opens his eyes suddenly.

"You gave me the bigger, gassy guy? Figures. Well, you better get used to this." Lily taunts as she farts and groans out in her new voice.

"Seriously?” Liza stuttered as her new body started to get turned on. She distracted herself by approaching a hallway mirror to inspect her new body. “Alright, well this is different. We've never been a gay couple before."

"Yeah I'll say. I'm so... big. Dudes take up so much space." Lily flexes her arms in the mirror and grins.

"Wanna go out tonight babe? Find out what it's like to be a gay couple?" Liza asks as she explored her full blown boner.

"Oh for sure baby. We've never been to a gay bar. And later tonight, I'll let you pound this tight hole too... that's what guys do right?" Lily asks as she inspects her ass.

"Beats me. But sure, let's go!" Liza says as she excitedly runs towards their bedroom to get changed.

[hubristic-king]

Wip for a,, Wilson accounting skin. Yep.

Also here's a drawing for an aftermath of a suggestive piece I made on twitter (Wx-78 saw the horrors of organic bodies exploring each other)

[mrdogface]

tbh, babs as someone who went right from a very gawky middle school phase to superhero explains a lot of her actions and beliefs in simone's birds of prey, ie. her being inscure about dick fucking helena. that conflict was kind of undercooked imo, because dixon (who i promise i am not complaining about) was, by his own admission in interviews, not someone who wanted to write characters having pre-marital sex and imo didn't want to explore that concept because it'd mean making it a whole thing. so when babs mentions it in simone's BOP, it kind of comes out of nowhere, y'know?

i DO think that simone has a bit of a habit of having women get mad at each other for dumb shit men do instead of getting mad at those men together, but to be ABSOLUTELY fair to her, because i want to like gail simone's work and mostly do (keeping in mind i haven't read her modern work and this was written by simone just shy of 20 years ago), when you're working on birds of prey often conflict directed at a man is going to go nowhere because they, by design, aren't regular cast members. it's less a "all women hate each other" thing and more just good writing to give your central cast conflict like that imo.

simone kind of acknowledges and does something with it by making babs a little traumatised by how boys do be smellin and directing that towards power girl, imo. i think it also plays into her disability -- when chuck dixon was writing her early in the BOP, babs had a whole mini arc about becoming comfortable being perceived and dating around her e-situationship with ted kord, which imo ends in a cute place, and culminates imo in her being able to date dick and get trapeizy with him. i think that it's fair to say that babs has a bit of insecurity around the idea that stupid boys are going to disregard her for prettier girls or whatever when she went from "boys are cruel to me because i'm not hot" teenager to "i don't know how to be comfortable in my own body as a recently disabled person" young adult.

i also like that in this scene babs consciously addresses it and am hoping that it's a thing that simone lets fade out / allows babs to mature beyond.

still, redirecting babs and helena's conflict away from "you might be a psycho killer and batman, robin and nightwing have all warned me about you, plus how you went rogue with fascist cop pettit during no man's land" to "you fucked the boy i liked" was eeeeeeh. like i get it and i think it's cool to explore for all the reasons i discussed above but i would like it if their conflict had more to do with, for instance, helena almost getting herself jason todd'd / stephanie brown'd at the end of no man's land.

[reverieblondie]

Loved your sub!rolan hcs! Perhaps, if it’s not too much trouble, the same with Zevlor but with make reader? (Gn is fine, too.) Have a good day!

A/N: You ask for Sub!Zevlor I will do my best to provide. Sorry this took so long!

Sub!Zevlor HCs

Zevlor, no matter what, it is all about your pleasure. Zevlor feels good if you feel good. A service sub, if I had to give it a name. Zevlor is happy if his partner is happy…

You want a back rub? Zevlor's hands are slicked with oil, rubbing all the knots out of your body, as soft or as hard as you request. His skin is warm to the touch, and the feeling of his long nails slightly dragging over your skin never fails to make your toes curl. 

Do you need to dry the laundry? Zevlor is already carrying the basket of wet laundry out to the line for you; he's following your exact words as you direct him. When you tell him what to do and how to do it, you will see Zevlor looking into your eyes with the smallest of smiles and his cheeks just a bit redder. 

Feeling needy? All you need to do is go to Zevlor, sit on his lap, or run your hands down his broad chest. "Help me..' is all you need to whisper, and Zevlor is on it. He's quick to lift you to the bedroom, practically kicking the door down so he can lay you on the bed. Zevlor will whisper praise in your ear that switches from common to infernal as he strips you bare. Then, finally, when your sex is exposed to him, all you need to do is tell him… Gods how he lives for you to tell him what you want… let him run his tongue over your sex, toy lick, and suck against you as his fingers probe at your tight entrance. 

It isn't about Zevlors pleasure… that comes when you cum into his expecting mouth.

After a long day of work, Zevlor's body is coated in a sheen of sweat and aches with every move. You see how his face twists in pain as he tries to settle; you want to take care of him, asking him if he needs anything, wants anything, but all he says is you, and suddenly you are wrapped in his arms. As you settle in with Zevlor, leaning into his chest, you feel his hands slowly rubbing your body and relaxing as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. "Zev, you don't have to take care of me. You have had a long day, so you can relax." Zevlor hums into you as he works the knots out of your back, what you should be doing for him. "Please… let me take care of you… having you feel good makes me feel good." Well, with soft words like that, who are you to deny a man his pleasures?

Zevlors pleasure, of course, leads to you lying back and splayed out as Zevlor loses himself as he runs his tongue against your sex. He's been down there for what feels like hours, his mouth pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. Zevlor's voice praises and begs you for more; let him please you more. Of course, you let him, the pleasure you're giving him is undeniable and mouth-watering. Through you worry about Zevlor, is he enjoying this as much as you… But when you finally feel his groan against you… there is no doubt he is enjoying himself immensely…Then the problem becomes trying to get the ex-hell rider off. You can whine and beg until you shake from the sweet overstimulation. That feeling starts to give way to an intense pressure that aches in your lower stomach… you're warning him, begging him… but he's just too lost in you… then, it washes over you in a sighing relief… and poor Zev's face is ruined with your mess, and with hazy eyes and a soft smile, he sucks and licks it up. 

Zevlor has an oral fixation to the max, and when your cumming or… erm, engaging in water sports… Zevlor is at his happiest. It isn't a degrading thing, he just really fucking loves the taste of you. 

Once everything is out in the open and you two have talked and explored each other's kinks more, it is revealed that not only does he want to please you, but he also wants you to direct him… to command him.

You two will start slowly if you are not used to giving directions. Like asking him to help rub your shoulders, have him help strip you bare; if you are nervous about being this direct, don't worry; Zevlor is right there. Just put your hands in his as he whispers how he loves you, and if you want to stop, you can anytime you want. He's literally perfect.

After some time and practice, your confidence is built enough to ask him more direct things… like moaning your name, having him tell you what he wants to do for you, asking for it faster or slower, and telling him where you want him to cum. If you ask him to bite you or if you can bite him, he might be lost for words... 

Zevlor stands in front of you tall, his hands behind his back, and his posture is perfect. "Stip," you command as you sit in front of him. Zevlor slowly sheds off his shirt, then drops his trousers with a smile. Once bare to you, revealing his muscular body with the most beautiful scars that, on many nights, you have taken the time to sit and map out to completely make him yours. You stand and circle him, tracing your fingers over him; Zevlor tries hard not to move as you take your time teasing him, though he can't control how his cock swells to attention, hard and glistening at the tip, eager to feel more of whatever you are willing to give. Finally, you grab his neck and lean into his burning ears. "Turn around for me, then on your elbows…" 

Zevlor is so obedient to you, never trembling under your words, just doing. Tender touches along his spine will make his breath catch; its a touch he has long dreamed of, and now you, his love, his person who will take him tenderly in your hands. It's not just sex now, not with you in this moment. It's a complete surrender to another and to be about ro share in physical and emotional intimacy. 

Let him wrap his tail around you as you kiss the nape of his neck down his back, as you gently stretch his tight entrance with probing fingers, then later…something else… His muscles constricting taut at the stretching intuition… then if you curl your fingers, you've never heard anyone moan so pretty.

When you thrust into Zevlor, he will moan and growl, and if his needy, pleasing side starts to get the better of him, he will start meeting your thrusting with his hips slamming back into you just so you know how much he needs this with you. 

You won't need to praise Zevlor; in fact, that might overwhelm him with a blazing flush. Just kiss him tenderly and whisper how much you love him; bonus points if you growl it in infernal. He will surely make a mess, then. 

Though this isn't Zevlors favorite position…

Zevlors favorite position is you riding him (obviously). Zevlor loves to feel your weight pressing down on him as he watches your face contort into a concentrated furrow as you bounce yourself on his cock. Your hands gripping his hair like rains and he's speechless, he feels nothing but total reverence as his partner uses him for their pleasure, to be giving him pleasure as they grip on him tighter and tighter with every thrust. You may be receiving, but Zevlor is in the plan of your hand in complete bliss…

You lean into his ear, your breath hot and heavy, "Knot me, commander… I know you want to…" His knees feel weak, and the base starts to swell….he will never deny you…

[phanfictioncatalogue]

any 2024 bottom!dan fics?

It’s an endangered breed that i come more and more concerned with as the days pass, anon. Here’s a few I have been able to salvage.

As He Comes, So I Come (ao3) - cloej88

Summary: Dan and Phil have just returned from Chicago, where they finally sorted themselves out. They’ve slept a full ten hours under their own roof, and now they have an uninterrupted afternoon to rediscover one another’s bodies.

Blue Sofa (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: This might be Phil’s favorite place in this house to fuck, he thinks. The beds are nice, and they’ve certainly tested the integrity of the office chairs a time or two, but this blue couch in the nerd cave, it really is his favorite.

in this smoking chaos (ao3) - writingcollective

Summary: Dan bottoms for the first time, not being able to shut down his inner demons that whisper internalised homophobic thoughts into his ear. But Phil guides him through it, somehow.

Not Since I Posted The Cat Photo (ao3) - Absolutefilthimsosorry

Summary: Dan hasn’t been a ‘top bunk kinda guy’ since he posted the catboy photos.

Set after the catboy photoshoot

so I will share this room with you (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Phil hadn't meant to end up here.

an exploration of the aftermath of meeting your soulmate when you're still so impossibly young

sunkissed (ao3) - ivylakes

Summary: Maybe Phil was made to pour warmth into this man and leave little marks all over his body the way the sun does when it covers his skin with freckles. Maybe everything they’ve ever done and every little way they’ve loved each other has culminated in this very moment, where they can hardly see each other in the low light but are still brighter than the yellow light that breaks through the sky and glitters on the ocean.

Or, Dan and Phil go on holiday, and every photo they take tells a story.

Take a Ride (ao3) - RosannaDrinksToForget

Summary: Dan likes to surprise Phil, especially with sex.

You and Me (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: Birthday sex after Dan's birthday livestream

-Rae

[mintydoll]

do you think that malenia and miquella ever explored each others bodies? do you think miquella ever called malenia mommy

[enbysiriusblack]

tell me ur prongsfoot thoughts

they're sooooo obsessed with each other.

codependent asf

they understand each other more than anyone else and can have a full on conversation with just looking at each other

each other's first kiss and then just never really talked about it for years

soulmates in every universe type bond

the only person james listens to is sirius. the only person sirius listens to is james.

geeky jock x geeky punk dynamic (sirius does sports but only for james)

the hunter dog and the deer it was meant to hunt but became friends with instead (went into the sirius star/orion star and his hunter dog lore with this before!!)

best friends that have explored each other's bodies

[d4minnie]

Please do a nerd sub teacher gojo x dom student reader....do it as a noncon too... like student reader nonconing teacher gojo... but make Gojo a nerd.... student female reader nonconing him please please pleaseeeeeee... I'm begging you.... I love the way you write....🥺🎀💖

Pairing: Teacher!Gojo Satoru x StudentAfab!Reader

Warnings: Non con(towards gojo)

wc: 1,074

MINORS DNI

I didn't know how to end this so I'm sorry if your not satisfied😭😪

“Okay, meet me after class if you have any questions!” Gojo-sensei announced, wrapping up the last lesson of the day. As the other students filed out, you lingered, intentionally slowing down while packing your things.

Gojo-sensei turned to you with his trademark bright smile. “Do you have a question for me, L/n-san?”

“Yeah, I do. Just give me a second,” you replied, moving to lock the classroom door. Your ever-gullible sensei didn’t think twice about it; he always saw the best in people, especially his students. Little did he know, he’d soon come to regret that.

You walked toward him slowly, each step measured, and he didn’t think anything was amiss—perhaps you were just nursing some leg pain. As you approached, you slipped behind him, resting your hand lightly on his shoulder. Leaning in, you whispered seductively into his ear, “Hmm, anatomy questions…”

His face turned bright red in response. “O-oh, but I’m an English teacher. Maybe you should ask Nanami-sensei; I’m sure he’d know!”

You leaned in closer, your bodies touching. “No, I’d prefer to ask you. You know I’m a visual learner,” you smirked, letting the tension linger between you.

He quickly moved away, putting some distance between you. “Haha, um, I need to go. I’ve got some things going on at home, so see you soon, L/n-san,” he said, trying to slip past you.

Before he could escape, you grabbed his wrist. “But we’re not done yet.” With a firm pull, you drew him toward the desk, guiding him to the comfortable teacher’s chair and pushing him down into it.

He let out a high-pitched squeak, his face flushing bright red. If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was on the verge of a stroke. You pulled down his pants leaving him clad in his Spiderman themed boxers before pulling those down too, his dick sprung up as you watched precum seep from his tip. "L/n-san we shouldn't be doing this!!" Your sensei squeaked out but you cut him off with a brief lick to his tip.

You held onto his member bringing a long lick up his shaft all the way to his pretty pink tip before deep throating his whole length. Sucking on it you felt him go limp to your touch. You went even deeper letting his tip explore the crevices of your throat before pulling out and sucking on to his balls which caused your sensei to let out a whimper. Going back to deep throating his member you brung both of your hands to twist and play around both his cock and balls before deep throating it one last time allowing him to release into your mouth.

“Spit it out! Spit it out! It’s dirty!” your sensei pleaded, his face flushed bright red. Instead of obeying, you swallowed, watching as he brought his hands to his mouth in shock.

“Yuck!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide.

You shot him a warning glare. “N-no, not yuck! Never mind, sorry!” he stammered, backpedaling in embarrassment.

He was about to start pulling his boxer back up before you stopped him and started pulling down your skirt along with your underwear which the act alone pulled a yelp out of your sensei. "L/n-san I- I haven't done this before plea- AH" He let out the most high pitched moan as you sat down onto his girthy cock. You brought your arms around his shoulders holding onto him as you bounced up and down his cock emitting yelps and whimpers out of your sensei, you started rotating your hips around his member which made him let out even more cute little whimper and incoherent words.

“Gonna—ah, g-gonna cum, gonna cum! Oh my god, s-shit!” You watched his beautiful blue eyes roll back as you bounced and rode at an even faster pace, you felt his hot liquid paint your insides before continuing to bounce on him even more which made his eyes shoot open.

“N-no more! Ah, it hurts! Can’t do more, can’t!” he whimpered, tears spilling down his cheeks, his small, cute pout contrasting with the distress on his rosy lips.

You bounced and rode him even faster chasing your release. After a few more bounces on his dick you felt him tense up beneath you before warmth enveloped your insides as he came for the third time that

day.

[niilue]

Yoriichi + touch-starved + nipple play + fem reader

⎯ yoriichi tsugikuni• kny

cw: dom reader, female reader, touch starved, nipple play, yorii it's so shy :( this is a cute nsfw drabble <33, and sorryyyy for the delay

niilue's 3k event

yoriichi tsugikuni was always an enigmatic figure. his imposing presence and deep gaze hid a heart that was passionate, yet extremely shy. you, a warrior who had fought at his side, had realised that there was a hidden fire within him, a desire just waiting to be fed.

that night, after a long day of training, you decided it was time to explore that desire. the moon shone brightly in the sky, casting a silvery light over the dojo where the two of you had gathered. shadows danced around you, creating an intimate and mysterious atmosphere.

you approached yoriichi, who was sitting on the floor, lost in thought. with a seductive smile, you said, "would you like to learn something new tonight? his face flushed, but he couldn't help but look at your lips curiously.

in one smooth motion, you knelt in front of him, your hands delicately touching his thighs. his breathing quickened as you approached. "don't be afraid, yoriichi. trust me." you whispered as your fingers began to play with the ends of his clothes, sliding gently down to his chest.

yoriichi shivered at your touch, his wide eyes reflecting both desire and fear. yet there was a fire within him that began to flare. you leaned forward and let your lips brush his neck, feeling his skin bristle under your warm breath.

"take me wherever you wish," you said in a soft but commanding tone. his trembling hands reached for your waist, but you stopped him. 'this time i'm the one in control".

with a firm motion, you gently pushed him back, forcing him to lean back against the tatami. you stood over him, looking into his eyes, seeking his approval. his nod was almost imperceptible, but enough to let you know he was ready.

you began to explore his body with your hands, touching his chest, playing with the soft threads of his clothing. as your fingers slid down to her nipples, you noticed how her body responded to each touch. it was as if your every touch ignited a spark of pleasure she had never experienced before.

"yoriichi, look at me", you said in a firm voice, forcing him to maintain eye contact. his shyness was still there, but there was a new confidence in his eyes. you continued to play with his nipples, alternating between gentle caresses and harder squeezes, enjoying how his moans mingled with the softness of the night.

"do you like it?" you asked, a gleam of mischief in your eyes. he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "yes… it's very pleasurable." the answer filled you with satisfaction, knowing that you were unleashing his true self, one that craved more.

finally, you decided it was time to take it to another level. you lowered yourself, letting your lips follow the path your hands had traced, moving down his abdomen until you reached the line of his clothing. with a deliberate motion, you unbuttoned his clothes, exposing his skin.

"yoriichi, you are so beautiful," you whispered, enjoying the vulnerability he offered you. you took your time, exploring every inch of his body, making sure he knew how much you wanted him. his moans grew louder, and though he remained shy, there was a spark of burning desire in his eyes.

your connection intensified, and in that moment you both knew your world was about to change forever. what had begun as a simple exploration turned into an erotic dance where roles blurred and you simply existed for each other.

that night, under the moonlight, yoriichi tsugikuni was no longer just a lonely warrior; he became the lover he had always wanted to be, and you, the woman who would guide him through the fire of desire.

word count: 625

[doshmanziari]

Shadow of the Erdtree: Some Reflections

Well, folks, since no one asked, here are some thoughts I've had while exploring Elden Ring's add-on, Shadow of the Erdtree.

The existence of an alternate shadow realm has solidified my conviction that what Elden Ring is depicting on micro and macro scales is the phenomenology of etheric bodies -- extending even to the moon, the double of which is visible from the Moonlight Altar plateau (this is reflected by Rellana's Twin Moons spell). Each of these bodies possess a regulating function. Although each might be generally described as doppelgänger, the occult scientist Rudolf Steiner wrote of the Doppelgänger proper as its own sort of body, responsible for the tension between aspiration and temptation. It's interesting to me that this is such a major preoccupation of the game, because it indicates a layer of esoteric involvement, on the part of Elden Ring's narrative conceptualizations, that I don't think anyone in the so-called lore community has picked up on yet. The shadow realm helps explicate the otherwise inexplicable Godefroy the Grafted, too.

Various details have also strengthened my impression that the revolt against Nature we see in Elden Ring is a revolt against motility -- motility being the ultimate enemy of utopia: a human conceptualization reliant upon infinite stasis. In the base game, I think we see this revolt most profoundly in the narrative of Ranni, who first abandons her own flesh and then strives towards the realization of an Age of Stars, that "thousand year voyage under the wisdom of the Moon." Although the Seedbed Curse represents its own revolt against Nature, it remains within the organic order. Ranni's vision is of the inorganic and remote. And I don't think it's unrelated that, in certain esoteric cosmological systems, the moon stands as most distant from the Absolute.

The colors of the landscapes and sky are amazing: vivid, autumnal, and strange. These palettes have only made me dislike the game's rain effect all the more, which does not deepen the arboreal colors (as it should) but drains all surfaces of color and sets them into a depressing, bland grayscale. To say that the rain is a part of why I consider Raya Lucaria to be Elden Ring's low-point in the realm of major level design could be seen as a trivial complaint, but visual drudgery will wreck even the best schemes; and Raya Lucaria is as far as you can get from that anyway. FromSoftware has done fine with types of snow (see, e.g., the Frigid Outskirts or Painted World of Ariandel), but I think they've yet to figure out rain, among some other graphical technicalities.

The forges are among my favorite instances of discrete level design, even if, or maybe because, they tend to contain only two or three enemy types, feature no bosses, and severely scale back the level of challenge. I happened upon one yesterday that I did find a little dull, but the other two were wonderful, brief, atmospheric knots, quiet sequences of colossal architecture, that sort of evoked shades of Stonefang Tunnel from Demon's Souls. On that note, I'd call special attention to the forges' theme music. The only other piece of music from the DLC that's gotten my attention is the theme for Belurat.

Plants are People, Too.

Torrent is just... a terrible inclusion for this game. It's maybe obvious enough to not warrant being said, but -- any design decision has to be evaluated on what it contributes to the system it's been set into, and Torrent adds nothing outside of the occasional, brainless convenience. I could maybe see an argument for Torrent's presence if he had some emotionally charged narrative integration, maybe like what Shadow of the Colossus did. Without this, Torrent is nothing but a tool which perpetually problematizes the overworld's scale (a bit too big, yet no fun to traverse at high speed) and trivializes all of its gauntlets on a potential and actual level far worse than anything the Spirit Ashes could ever do. Better to me would've been if the only way to use a mount were by defeating a mounted knight without killing their horse and then sneaking up to the runaway to gain ownership of it.

I'm finding the map much more engaging than that of the base game because of how it plays with abstractions and builds anticipation through that. One part of the map, for instance, shows a bunch of trees with red leaves. Reaching this place reveals these "trees" to be enormous red flowers. Another section shows pink, purple, and orange specks. What are these? And what are the gray, finger-like lumps erupting from the mass next to it? I've also found it tough to figure out how to progress from one plane to another because of how densely stacked and knobby the continent's features are, so consulting the map has been helpful in a way I rarely experienced with the base game's.

Love how much the Ancient Ruins of Rauh resemble The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, from the explosion of verdure, to the crude, architectural naivety defining the pseudo-Gothic structures.

With Shadow of the Erdtree, I keep coming up against an unresolvable simultaneity like the one mentioned above regarding the overworld. There's a lot of good level design to be found here among the dungeons, castles, and forts, yet the abundance and enormity of it all seems to have deprived the game of significant contrasts, and those special spatial moments, which I found much easier to locate and reflect upon with, say, Dark Souls or Bloodborne. Sure, the sky-piercing spiral of Enir-Ilim is a sight to behold; but soon enough the sequences of grand staircase upon grand staircase, great bridge upon great bridge, creates a perpetual climatic grandiosity that diminishes the very effect of a climax (and I'm not even sure that Enir-Ilim is the DLC's intended final location). Anor Londo or the Nightmare of Mensis could feel special because the qualities and features of their spaces stood apart from everything else. Elden Ring, I think, has gotten itself into a predicament by trying to one-up its internal material and all prior FromSoftware games through the enormity of its scale -- and challenge. More and more, I've been craving a new project from them that resets these terms of engagement, even while enjoying the consistency of the material at hand.

That's all for now! In time maybe I'll turn these thoughts to an essay for my Substack page, perhaps with a focus on the first two points.

[weyounpussyindulgence]

Here, have some Dr East headcanons I came up with over the years

💚💚💚💚

- I have no clue how real Zoanoid names work, but I feel like he’d use the name Henry as a part of his nom de plume. Something like Henry B. East

- He collects bizarre/silly neckties. The more peculiar and novelty the design, the better

- Even though he’s the head of CHRONOS’ Genetics Department, he doesn’t get the respect he deserves from Balcus or the other Zoanoids. Lisker, Ramsey, Striker and Weber have shoved him into a locker and stuck his head in a toilet many times

- He’s bisexual. Look at his interaction with Dr. Gordon and tell me that they haven’t explored each other’s bodies at least once

- He’s primarily a carnivore, but eats a lot of pre-made salad kits and fruits. His favorite mixes are chicken ceaser, avocado ranch with bacon, and his favorite fruits are apples, dragonfruit and nectarines

- Speaking of carnivorous, I have no clue if this is canon in the manga or not, but I feel like Zoanoids eat humans. So when he’s getting his apartment broken into or something, he turns into his goat monster form and will eat the burglar

- I feel like he listens to a lot of classical music because it helps him relax and focus. He also listens to old science fiction radio dramas like the Twilight Zone radio dramas, X Minus One and Ray Bradbury Theatre.

- He keeps a goldfish as a pet since they don’t have a huge attention span, so it won’t pay any attention if he changes form

- Sometimes when he laughs, he bleats like a goat. He gets very insecure about it though because he’s been mocked for it

- He’s lactose intolerant. Idk how else to elaborate, it just makes sense to me. It’s not life threatening or anything, but it does cause him a lot of tummy trouble

- Also speaking of tummy trouble, I firmly believe that with the superior technology the Zoanoids have at CHRONOS, he never died from being gutted from the inside. Dr Gordon was able to patch him up and do some organ transplants. Then they kept him on life support until he woke up from a 30 day coma/recovery period (he has a big scar on his lower chest and stomach from it though). He then resigned and collected a severance package and now lives a happy semi normal life somewhere off the grid safe from the Guyver