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

Julian had never been a loving and sentimental person. He finds it hard to even say “I love you” despite you being the most important person in his life besides his mother.

Most of the time he’ll just lay next to you, let you cuddle into him and occasionally kiss your forehead.

If he has to do something after, he’ll start you a bath and order you some food of your choice because he just hates leaving you with nothing after you made him feel so good.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs

and also their partner's)

He likes his hands; he doesn’t know what he would do without them. They’re arguably the most important part to his business because without them he wouldn’t be able to code and work. He supposes he also likes them because they allow him to play with your hair, hold your hand and etc.

Julian loves your eyes. He could stare into them for the rest of his life, he loves how much your pupils dilate when you look at him and the color of your irises are just so gorgeous to him.

Your thighs are also one of the most perfect things that whatever god has ever created. He always keeps a hand on one of them when you’re near him. The thicker the better in his opinion. Btw he really loves just burying his face into them until he starts getting light headed. (he also loves thigh jobs)

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

Always inside, he doesn’t wanna have to clean it up afterwards. He definitely still does it if you can get pregnant; he doesn’t want to be a dad yet but that’s not the point. He can buy you any kind of birth control if you need it so pregnancy isn’t a worry.

Butttttttt if you give him a blowjob, he loves cumming on your face. Watching it splatter everywhere makes him hard again. Any other type of “job”, he likes when you lick it up afterwards.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty

secret of theirs)

N/A

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do

they know what they're doing?)

He’s had his fair share of girlfriends, he’s rich, of course he has. He knows what he’s doing but he’s only really experienced in the vanilla stuff, none of his exes ever wanted to do much. That’s why he loves you so much!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Legs up on his shoulders, gives him the perfect angle to push his whole length into you at a sickening slow pace.

He does also like back shots, kinda the same reasoning but it gives him better access to watching your ass giggle and spanking/groping it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment?

are they humorous? etc.)

He’s extremely serious in the moment. He won’t crack a joke by himself but if you say something funny he’ll definitely stop mid thrust to chuckle at your joke.

He cracked a joke once and he felt like it ruined the entire moment so he leaves it up to you to be the comedian.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the

carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It’s a little darker than his hair, like a shade darker. It’s definitely curly and well maintained.

Julian’s just an all together guy anyways, he doesn’t like going full bare but he hates having a bush. Just enough to make him feel like a man and not a pre-pubescent boy who got his hands on his first razor.

| = Intimacy (how are they during the moment?

the romantic aspect)

N/A

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He finds himself too busy to masturbate most days. He’s also never really hard unless you’re there and why would he jerk off if he has you to help him out?

When he was single he definitely did jerk it a bit more, he would typically do it after work to relieve some stress but it was more about that then cumming for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

semi public sex - he likes the risk of you guys getting caught but not really. He likes doing it in a secluded place that is also easily accessible if that makes sense, like his office or any other room in the building. It’s not like any of the workers would say anything.

spanking - he loves spanking you. Not even in a sadistic way, he just loves the noises you make and the way your ass moves when his hand makes contact with it.

daddy/sir kink - sir more than daddy but he really enjoys when you call him either. He likes feeling like he has power over you most times, it also just sounds really good when you start begging out “sir” or “daddy”.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bed, it’s a lot comfier than his. He’ll always insist on making it back to your place before even starting to get closer to each-other, he pops a boner incredibly quick around you and he really doesn’t want to be stuck in public like that. He also doesn’t want his mother to hear the two of you, that’s the main reason he avoids his place.

He’ll never admit it out loud but he loves having sex in his office, it’s so risky and that’s just what he needs for his normally bland life. He loves when you ride him in his chair or if you let him fuck you against the glass wall that sits behind his desk.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them

going)

He likes when you wear shorts/skirts. This guy just really likes your ass, he’s able to control himself for the most part. He’ll grab a handful of ass when he can but won’t start like foaming at the mouth but if you even remotely bend over anywhere near him. He’s done for and he needs to have his cock buried inside you within the next four seconds.

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

He would never get a third involved, you’re his and he’s very adamant about that. He also hasn’t really been attracted to anyone else since dating you, even if you were into the idea. He wouldn’t know who to even pick, especially if you start asking those TikTok questions about who you would pick to have sex with. (Ykwim)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill,

etc.)

He eats pussy like it’s his last meal on death row. He can be sloppy or proper. It’s all up to what you want. He himself prefers sloppy. He loves when your juice coats his face and his chin, he loves the taste of it. Doesn’t matter if it tastes like pineapple or an exposed organ. He loves it.

Does also love getting his dick sucked and he does like it sloppy aswell. He’ll thread his hand through your hair and shove you down until you’re genuinely making his length drip.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and

sensual? etc.)

He’s slow but rough. He doesn’t love his hips very fast but he really shoves himself in there when he decides to trust. He doesn’t prefer fast paced sex, if he really needs to release tension he’ll just try and go deeper and deeper inside you.

The one time he tried to go faster, he ended up cramping extremely bad in his hip so he really doesn’t want to be dealing with that again. He’s like an old man and gets injured pretty quickly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how

often, etc.)

He likes quickies in his office if it’s really the only choice but he never prefers them. He likes having his time with you, sex also tires him out so it’s kind of annoying that he’ll be tired the rest of the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they

take risks? etc.)

The most risk he’ll take is fucking you in his office. He doesn’t want to do anything that would hurt his reputation or possibly get you caught by his mother.

Getting caught by one of his workers or something is a situation he doesn’t really care about. He knows they won’t say anything because he literally pays them to stay silent.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for?

how long do they last?)

About 4 rounds if you really got to him. Small like two minute breaks in between each time and he’ll usually last about three minutes before cumming.

If it’s just a “regular” boner or later in the night, he can go for two round but last for the same time. He’s gotten really good at controlling him so he doesn’t bust in a few seconds within being inside of you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on

a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any toys and he also doesn’t like using toys on himself but he doesn’t necessarily have an issue with you owning anything.

He’ll scoff or make a snarky comment if he sees or you mention one of your toys but he really doesn’t care. He does like your vibrator though. He likes using it on you to tease and be an asshole if you piss him off or if he’s feeling silly, he also kinda likes it if you use it on him but he’ll never go out of his way to use it himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t really like teasing; every time you guys fuck, he just really wants to get his dick inside you and doesn’t want to waste time.

Instead of teasing, he’ll do more like a lot of overstimulation because he just keeps going constantly.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they

make, etc.)

Julian’s not super loud, he groans a lot but it’s never super loud. It’s deep and breathy, he’s able to keep his voice down to avoid getting caught if you ever so happen to do it at his house or his office.

If it’s a more secluded setting, he’ll be a bit louder with his groans. His groans will echo off the walls if you get him just right.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the

character)

N/A

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

5 and a half inches soft and around 6 inches hard. He’s packing a good amount for the skinny white boy he is.

I like to imagine he’s not circumcised 🤤. He doesn’t really care to get it done regardless, it’s never bugged him before and he keeps it clean.

Is it weird if I say his balls are big? It better not be because that’s what I think, since he doesn’t have sex often. He doesn’t cum often so therefore it’s kinda just big, ya know.

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

Not extremely high, he’s a busy man. A lot of the time he doesn’t really even think about sex. It’s not like he doesn’t ever wanna have sex, he loves how you make him feel.

His drive does get a little higher if he’s around you for two hours without anything else. He’s used to being a multi tasker, his brain can’t really focus on one thing unless it’s you, and when he’s only focused on you. He’s mainly thinking with his dick.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

The air was cracking with electricity. It was making the very hair on the back of your neck stand up – that, and the vision in front of you.

You couldn’t see his face – nor that you needed to. It was his voice that made you grip your disk tighter.

"User."

Rinzler’s digitized rasp, filtered through a dozen layers of corruption. It wasn't a greeting. It was an accusation. You stood your ground, your own heart a frantic, organic drumbeat against the Grid's sterile rhythm.

"Tron."

His name. His real name from the past that was dunked in darkness with a smile on his creator’s face.

"Unauthorized sector. Proximity breach."

He took a single, fluid step closer. The heat from his systems washed over you, a shocking contrast to the Grid's ambient chill.

"Violation."

This was the moment. The point of no return. Instead of retreating, you lifted your hand, fingers trembling only slightly, and pressed your palm flat against the cool, unyielding chassis of his chest plate. The sleek, black armor seemed to drink the light, and the orange circuitry glowed with a malevolent life of its own. The effect was instantaneous. The orange circuits on his body flared, a brilliant, angry burst. He went preternaturally still, a statue of lethal potential. A low, warning, animalistic growl emanated from his helmet, a sound that was pure system threat-response.

"Some rules," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "are meant to be broken."

For a terrifying second, you were certain he would derez you on the spot. His hand snapped up, but it didn't reach for a disc. Instead, his gauntleted fingers closed around your wrist - not with crushing force, but with a firm, undeniable possession. The grip was cold, hard, yet it sent a jolt of something hot and entirely human straight through you. He tilted his head, the blank helmet studying your joined forms - your soft, vulnerable hand on his chest, his unbreakable hold on your arm.

"Inefficient," he rasped, but the word lacked its usual cold finality.

It was… questioning.

Then, he moved.

In one swift, shocking motion, he used his grip on your wrist to spin you, pinning your back against his front. His other arm banded across your collarbone, not to harm, but to hold you immobile. You were trapped, caged against the living weapon. The hum of his core was a vibration you felt in your bones, a chaotic symphony against your spine. His helmet dipped, the smooth surface brushing against the shell of your ear. The digitized whisper was so low it was almost a distortion in your own audio receptors.

"User protocols… do not compute this."

It was the closest to confusion you would ever hear from him.

«I’m not using any protocol, Tron,” you whispered yet again.

“I want you to wake up. Just for a nano-second. You know it. You feel it. There is a deep, aching need inside you; not to please that cruel program in an ivory tower, but something… more. Do that, Tron. Please.”

You turned your head and your lips barely touched his helmet.

“Use me.”

The flicker in his circuits became a war. Orange light bled, violently, into a searing, celestial blue. It was a flash, brief and agonizing, like a scream in the dark before the orange slammed back into place, darker, angrier.

But it had been there.

His grip on your wrist shifted. The crushing, metallic pressure softened, his gauntleted fingers curling until they were almost… cradling your pulse point. He was holding on, not to detain, but to keep from being erased himself.

He didn't gentle you.

He bent you.

His grip on your wrist twisted, forcing you forward, your hands slapping against the cool, glowing surface of a data conduit. He pressed you down over it, the hard edge digging into your hips. His body was a cage of black carbon and furious energy at your back.

"Error. Corruption," he rasped, but his actions betrayed the coldness of the words.

His gauntleted hands were frantic, searching. They slid over your user-soft clothes, the material foreign and infuriating to him. He found no ports, no interface panels, only the maddening, yielding warmth of flesh. With a grating sound of pure frustration, one hand clamped on your hip, fingers digging in with a promise of bruises - a punishment for your insolence, a brand of his claim. The other hand tore at the fabric at your shoulder, not to remove it, but to expose the skin beneath. The cool air of the Grid was a shock against the bared curve of your neck. His helmet pressed against that exposed skin, the unyielding surface a shocking contrast to the intimacy of the gesture. The orange circuits of his chest plate seared your back, the heat nearly unbearable. You could feel the frantic, chaotic whirl of his core, a storm contained within armor.

"Punishment," he growled, his voice laced with static, a mantra against the desire tearing him apart.

"Derezzing. System purge. You are a virus. You must be purged."

But his hips ground against you, the hard, articulated plates of his armor meeting the softness of your body. He was seeking a connection his programming could not comprehend, a port that did not exist. It was a brutal, desperate friction, the rigid structure of his form a stark contrast to your pliant humanity. One of his hands left your hip, moving between your bodies. You heard the click of a release, not of his disc, but of a different kind of panel. Then his hand was back on you, but this time, it was different. The hard plating had retracted, and the touch was pure, searing energy—the naked, unfiltered data-stream of his being.

It was not a caress. It was an interrogation, an invasion, a claiming. A jolt, white-hot and blinding, shot through you. It was pain and pleasure fused into one unbearable sensation, the raw code of the Grid meeting the chaotic, organic electricity of your own nerves. He shuddered violently against you, his systems overloading.

A broken, digitized groan echoed from his helmet, muffled against your skin.

"User... interface... achieved."

The last of the barriers fell away, and he drove into you, a single, devastating stroke that felt like being rewritten from the inside out. It was not the clean, efficient transfer of energy, a forbidden synchronization. His rhythm was relentless, a perfect, punishing algorithm designed to break you apart and reassemble you. Each thrust was a command to submit, and each ragged, hitched breath he took was the ghost of Tron fighting to obey a new, deeper directive. He was chasing his own deresolution, seeking to lose the Rinzler-protocol in the blinding, white-hot static of your shared, illicit connection. He was both the punishment and the prisoner, and in this intimate, violent crash, you were his only path to system failure and, perhaps, to freedom. It was not a gentle merging. It was a crash. A system failure of his primary directives, a glorious, catastrophic corruption. He was a force, and in that moment, he was using you exactly as you had asked - as the catalyst for his own violent, long-awaited awakening. The pleasure he took was as brutal as the punishment he had promised, the two now inextricably, perfectly, fused into one act of rebellion.

<...>

You were past words, past coherent thought.

Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending screaming with an overload that was both agony and ecstasy. You’d come apart for him what felt like a dozen times already, your own release slick between you, a testament to his brutal, thorough efficiency. You were boneless, oversensitive, wrecked.

"Enough," you whimpered, your hands sliding uselessly against the smooth, heated planes of his back.

"Tron, please… I can't…"

His head, still hidden in that impassive helmet, jerked up. The blank visage stared down at you, but the body pinning you to the cool surface beneath was trembling with a tension that felt like a system on the verge of catastrophic failure.

"Negative," he growled, the sound raw and stripped of its usual cold precision.

His hips stuttered, pressing deep, holding there, a brutal, perfect invasion that made you gasp despite the many cycles that passed. He coaxed your leg higher, opening you up further, a silent, desperate plea.

"The output…" he rasped, his voice cracking with static.

"Insufficient. One more. Generate one more."

It was a command, but it was also a confession. The unshakeable enforcer of CLU’s will, the perfect weapon, was begging. He was caught in a feedback loop of his own making, driven by a need his core programming had no name for, a need only you could satisfy. He lowered his helmet, the cool surface resting against your feverish forehead in a grotesque parody of a kiss.

"User… please."

That single, corrupted word, filled with a agony that was more than just physical, was your undoing. Your body, traitorously, responded to the raw need in it. A fresh, shocking wave of pleasure began to build from the deepest, most exhausted part of you, cresting fast and inevitable, pulled from you by his desperate, grinding plea.

He felt it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"How much time do we have?"

"That's not funny," you sighed, crossing your arms and using a glare to hide the pain in your chest. "You told me you were sending an intern to work with me. You never mentioned that it was her." You punctuated the word with a point towards the door of your office, where Quorra stood on the other side after you'd very politely asked her to wait there so you could talk to Sam alone. "By the way, not a great idea to get the ex and the new girl together."

Sam groaned. This was not going the way he'd hoped. "I told you, there's nothing going on between me and Quorra. She's basically my sister!"

"You said that before, but what the hell does it mean? Did your dad have a second family or something?"

"No! It's-" He quickly stopped himself. "It's nothing like that, I just...I need you to trust me."

The glare on your face faltered a bit, but your arms stayed right where they were. "And I need you to tell me the truth. If you can't do that, this is never going to work."

Sam wanted to tell you everything, but he also knew how insane it would sound. Hell, if not for Quorra being living, breathing proof of his time on The Grid, he would think he'd lost it, too. But, even after everything, you'd given him another chance to be in your life, and he couldn't just throw that away.

He held out his pinky finger. "Promise you won't have me committed. Because this is going to sound crazy."

In spite of his words, your shoulders relaxed in relief knowing you were finally going to get some answers. "Oh boy," you muttered as you linked your pinky with his.

"And promise you won't tell anyone else. Not even your parents."

"Okay! I promise."

Sam hesitantly let go of your pinky and sighed. "Remember a few weeks ago when I pranked the board? Your dad came to my place that night and told me that he got a page from my dad's old office at the arcade. I went to check it out and found a hidden office in the basement. My dad had a computer and one of your mom's lasers down there. And, well, I ended up on The Grid."

You'd been with him up until that last sentence. "You-I'm sorry, what?"

"My dad had been going there for years, building a world with Clu and Tron. But Clu went crazy...and dad got stuck. That's where he was all that time. Trapped on The Grid to keep Clu from getting out." Sam nodded his head in Quorra's general direction. "There were these special programs called ISOs. Clu thought they didn't belong in his 'perfect system', so he killed them all. Except for Quorra. My dad mentored her, protected her for years, so yeah, in a way, she's my sister."

The room was silent for several moments before you reached your hand up to gently touch his temple. The most soft and tender you'd been towards him in a long time. He could hear the tinge of concern in your voice. "Sam, you jumped off of ENCOM Tower that night. Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

"I don't have brain damage, okay?" Sam carefully moved your hand from his face and took it in his own. "I get it if you don't believe me, but I swear to you, it's the truth. My dad thought Quorra's existence would change the world, but...I don't want to put her in danger. I need to protect her, and I can't do it alone."

Your gaze flicked down to your joined hands, then back to his pleading eyes. Sam was a lot of things, but you'd never known him to be a liar. Especially not to you. As unbelievable as it all sounded, you couldn't completely write off the possibility that Kevin Flynn had actually realized his dream of a digital frontier. That Sam really had gone to The Grid.

"I...I don't know how much I believe in all of that...but I do believe in you, Sam. Always have. I'll do whatever I can to help."

Your words smacked him right in the face, and he was once again reminded of how much of an idiot he'd been. Of just how much he'd missed having you in his corner. He gave your hand a little squeeze. "Thank you..."

You cleared your throat and let go of his hand. "I guess we should–"

"Right, let's–"

You opened the door again, and Quorra's attention quickly turned to you. Her bright blue eyes burned into you even more than Sam's did. "Is everything alright?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's fine. Sam was just...filling me in on how you two met." You took a step towards her, intending to follow through on your promise. "Um...I was actually just about to grab some lunch. Wanna come with?"

Quorra smiled so big that it reached all the way to her eyes. "I'd love that!" She waited as you grabbed your bag and headed out of the office, gesturing her to follow.

Sam watched the two of you walk away, catching the beginnings of a conversation.

"So, do you like tacos? There's a great truck on the corner."

"I'm not sure. I've never had them before."

I’d like to go ahead and first say, welcome aboard! A little bit about myself:

I am a midshipman at the United States Merchant Marine Academy, currently studying how to drive ships. I am a creative writer and published author, and I love writing but I don’t really have as much time for it these days. I go by she/her pronouns. I do run through obsessions insanely. And I want to write about them.

I REGRET TO INFORM:

My ASKS are currently CLOSED.

Reason? I AM RETURNING TO SEA. (not.. not a joke...)

First, I’ll lay down the rules, and then the Fandom list (with recommendations as to what to ask for).

RULES:

I will ONLY write Reader Insert fanfics, or general/reader insert HCs. No OCs. While I AM willing to write smut, I will not include themes of pedophilia, rape, or racism, or anything of the likes (I will be the one to judge that). Just… don’t go crazy wit it alright?

EXCEPTIONS TO THE READER INSERT ONLY RULE are specific to fandoms (which I will update over time maybe), and my self insert TADC fic. Please don't judge that. I just needed a place to put it where i felt somewhat productive.

Fandom List: (my current obsessions)

TRON: specifically Tron Uprising and Tron Legacy. I’m familiar with most of the characters, but am best with Tron himself, Clu, and Beck. I have a lot of personal theories about Tron

The Amazing Digital Circus!: my most recent obsession. While I trust my skills with pretty much all of the characters enough to write HCs, if you want a genuine fanfic, I’d go with Caine, Jax, or Kinger, because I obsess over them the most.

POKEMON: god please pick a character I’ve heard of there’s so many. Remember my rules for this one. But if I’ve heard of them I can probably do it, since pokemon characters are usually pretty standard. Hey, if you just want to have a peaceful day hanging out with Ash, I am happy to give that to you tbh

The Wild Kratts: despite growing up with them, they seem to have barely any fandom. I like them tho. Obviously best with Chris and Martin. Would be super pleased to get an ask about this

STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS: I specify the Clone Wars bc it’s my Star Wars major. I know most of the clones. I know most of the Jedi. My one exception to my own rules is I will write Codywan (and Foxiyo) bc I like it. I will also write Bad Batch, but NOT post Order 66, just to put a cap on things.