#Sand Reconer

[thewitheredking]

E2 of Sand Reckoner

[reykjavik-municipality]

Woops.

We got a bit lost reading up on Dune and lore and watching part one and reading some summaries and critiques and making sketches of our favorites and of course watching the second part and then read all of the books again to refocus and also sit quietly with idle hands while listening to the soundtrack and also just trying to find out ways to incorporate more sand into the office

[lear-dot-rpy]

me: thank you for everything sir

my prof: you shouldn't be taking me, you should be annoyed at me.

me, incapable of anger and on the verge of tears: no, still, thank you. even though I failed, you still gave me the opportunity to try and achieve my dreams by helping me shift courses. you still gave a shot to study here in this state university. i still get to live on with no regrets that i didnt try

my prof: ... Ms. Lear, no matter where you may go, I hope you [something I didn't hear]

me: what?

my prof: just looking at you stresses me out. everytime i look at you i feel stressed out. just take a break and do what you want to do in life

me, emotional whiplash: wait what, what do you mean-

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill To Die On

This is most of Chapter 1, cutting before the smut. IT DOES GET SPICY THOUGH. 🌶️⚠️ Some of this has been posted before, but figured I'd give you all one nice big chunk of it!

Tim brush his hand idly through his damp hair as he stepped out of the shower.

It had gotten long.

He hadn’t planned to grow it out, it just sort of happened. He’d gotten it cut last summer before he started his sophomore year of college. The start of the semester had bled into midterms. Midterms had proceeded papers and projects. Projects had become final presentations and exams. Classes ended abruptly into a too short winter break of Tim visiting Cass and her team then dragging her home for Christmas. The New Year had been filled with Titans and teammates and fireworks.

He might cut it when it started getting to muggy. Spring had barely broken into the city. It was warm enough not to need heavy coat but cool enough Tim could still wear his favorite leather jacket he’d stolen from Jason. It was a good time of the year.

His hair really had gotten long.

As long as the wig Tim wore when he became Caroline. He tugged at the ends of the hair where, if he tilted his head down to look up under his lashes, the black strands brushed the top of his shoulders.

Tim hadn’t been Caroline Hill in a long time now.

Or Alvin Draper.

Or Timothy Drake— CEO to be.

He hadn’t been anyone, really. Instead he had been struggling to find out who Tim Wayne was beyond the expectations of dead parents, missions hidden behind masks, and under the weight everyone else’s needs.

He still really didn’t know.

It felt more like a game of finding out what he wasn’t than falling into what he was. Or what he liked to be.

He could be a ruthless businessman, but that was Timothy Drake, wasn’t it? That was his father’s Jack’s legacy and Janet’s cold, confident smile. He didn’t like being that.

He didn’t like being them.

He could be whatever the mission needed. He could do recon, hacking, infiltration, fighting—a replacement, like Jason said. The word didn’t have the same sting that it used to. Replacement. It was almost a word of respect now. It had taken a lot of talking (and a lot of alcohol) for Jason and Tim to get somewhere good, but they both got it now. Red Robin was whoever the team needed.

He was tired of having to fill in cracks.

He beyond tired of just existing for everyone else’s needs.

The weight of that had nearly broken him.

Had broken him.

Tim watched the black strands of hair slip over the spider web of scars on his left hand.

Bruce had assured him that there would always be a place with the Bats if Tim still wanted it. Tim didn’t know if he would. Tim refused to just fill in the space that was left open anymore. It took a lot of sessions with his Justice League approved therapist for Tim to even get to that line in the sand, but he understood how important it was now.

He had to stop being the replacement. The other Robin. The other son.

It was a problem.

Another problem was, he didn’t always think he was Tim Wayne, even with the pieces that he was slowly learning.

Tim dug around under his sink, coming up with the purple case he’d stolen from Steph to keep Caroline’s things in. The robin red lipstick was on the top. Slowly he uncapped it and smeared it almost recklessly across his lips.

Tim no longer stared back out from the mirror.

Maybe Caroline deserved a night out.

It had been a long time, after all.

-

Clothing was an issue.

Tim had grown. Not much mind, but enough that the shoulders were a little tight and bottoms a little short. Well, the bottoms weren’t a huge matter in that moment. Caroline wanted to go out to a club after all; they could work with a too short skirt. The top though… Caroline adjusted the black strap of the lacy bra. Even with the right padding in, it still didn’t look right.

She chewed on her lower lip, still messily smeared with bright red, as she held another top up against her chest. That wouldn’t do either. Caroline gave the box of old clothing a little kick. Hum. She should paint her toenails.

Focus, Caroline.

It was time to look outside of her box.

Fifteen minutes and a pair of scissors later and one of Alvin’s too large and nondescript red t-shirts had become a drop shoulder crop top. It wasn’t the most amazing fit, but as she dressed it up with the right necklace looped a few times around her throat, a splash of red and leather in the bracelets (cover the scars, they were identifying marks), she figured she could pull off the look—at least for getting sweaty in some dark club.

Ever grateful for quick drying polish, Caroline did a rush job of all her nails and waved them impatiently dry before she did her make up properly. Some contouring, false lashes, the right highlights, step by step Caroline felt herself come alive again until staring back from there mirror was no Tim or Timothy or Alvin—just her.

Just Caroline.

She let out the breath she had been holding.

-

Finding the right club took a little bit. Her old favorite had shut down, apparently. That wasn’t uncommon with the short lifespan of clubs and even less so in Gotham with the money laundering and drug rings that often went with the clubs, but it still sucked. Caroline wanted somewhere that if someone got very handsy on the dance floor there wouldn’t be issue with everything that was carefully and securely tucked away in her underwear. The person might not want all that, which was perfectly fine as long they parted ways amicably.

(And if not, well, one of her bracelets could be shockingly persuasive.)

She tucked her fake ID back away in the hidden pocket of her bra, not minding the bit of a show it gave. Tim would have to make her a new one; she didn’t needed the fake age anymore. Then, with a steadying breath, she entered the thudding music, bright lights, and throng of bodies of the club. It took a moment to adjust to it all. This wasn’t always Caroline’s favorite thing, but they needed to relax already. Any tenser and something was going to snap.

Besides, this is where the boys failed and Caroline thrived; slipping between bodies, flirting, giving enough to capture attention without actually giving anything away. Dealing with a mass of people was a complex game of chess and Caroline very much intended to be the conquering queen.

The bar was the first stop, ordering a fruity martini so that she could sip at the drink and people watch for a time. It was always good to get a feel for things before diving in. It also gave her time to get used to being her again as she fielded a few flirtatious advances which landed her another drink in turn for the first dance of the night with her. She didn’t linger long.

She wasn’t sure what she was in the mood for. Caroline flitted across the dance floor from partner to partner, just letting herself enjoy the thud of the beat and the press of bodies. She always moved on before people could get too invested (or too handsy).

Caroline was on the edge of the floor, slipping away from one dance and looking for the next when a laughing group at a close by table shoved one of their number her way. She took a tentative step back, but didn’t actually need to. The poor sacrificial lamb found his footing rather gracefully.

He ducked his head with a crooked smile that was actually somehow charming. “Sorry about them.”

“Stay on target, Danny!” someone called from the table to cheers and jeers.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Really sorry. Just, ah, I maybe have been talking about how pretty you are and how much I want to dance with you for, like, the last twenty minutes. Feel free to tell me to fuck off if this is rude, but would you like to dance?”

Caroline tilted her head and tried not to smile in too predatory a way. “You’ve been watching me?”

“It’s hard not to, with how you move.”

She laughed at that. This one was so earnest. That was odd for Gotham.

“Once dance,” Caroline said, holding out a hand. “Unless you have the moves and then maybe you’ll get more.”

Danny took the hand and brushed a kiss against it. “One dance, to start.”

-

Despite any doubts that Caroline might have had, Danny knew how to move. She’d lost count of the song they had danced to about the time that Danny’s hand had first slid up her shirt. She rolled her hips, grinding back against Danny’s tight jeans and growing arousal. Danny followed her lead beautifully.

His teeth scrapped lightly against her neck and she threw back her head for him, letting him suck a mark into her skin. She enjoyed the thought of Tim being stuck with a reminder of her night out. (Maybe it would convince him to have some fun of his own.)

Danny’s hand slid down from where it had been cupping a breast, traced over her stomach, and moved to her skirt. Caroline caught it before Danny could do more than slip a few fingertips past the band.

“Sorry,” he murmured into her ear.

“Not that,” Caroline said. She turned her head to press a kiss against the corner of Danny’s mouth, smearing robin red against his tan skin. “Just need to let you know there’s more down there than you might be expecting.”

She held her breath as tightly as she held Danny’s hand. It this went bad, she wanted to be able to act quickly.

Danny’s huff of air sounded amused.

She relaxed her grip slightly.

The hand slipped a little lower.

“To me, any combination of bits is a good combination. I’m up for all sorts of surprises,” Danny assured her. His fingers ran over just the top edge of her underwear, not really touching anything, but applying just enough pressure that she shuddered. “She’ okay to use?”

“Yes. She, her, Caroline.”

“Caroline.” Danny said her name like it was a prayer.

She guided his hand a little lower.

His touch stayed almost teasing and Caroline had to alternate between pressing forward into his hand and grinding backwards against him until Danny pulled them so close together that she could barely move. And fuck, it had been too long for any of them. She half thought that if she put in the effort, or Danny’s hand dipped any lower, that she could manage to come right there on the dance floor.

That was not how she wanted tonight to go.

She ran her hands through Danny’s hair and tilted his head where she wanted it. So that she could nip at his ear lobe. “Tell me you live close.”

“In walking distance.”

[cheriladycl01]

The Bottle - Carlos Sainz x Reader

Plot: You'd always believed in soulmates, in your culture an old tradition was that a person would send out a letter in a glass bottle for their soulmate with clue's requesting the person who found it comes to find them.

Carlos walked along the long stretch of sand with his cousin. It was summer and they were vacationing in Mallorca in the family property.

They'd gone for a morning jog keeping up with his fitness plan for over the summer break ready for the second stint of his F1 season.

"What's that?" Carlos mumbles looking down at the glass bottle buried half in and half out of the season. He reaches down to pick it up but his cousin smacks his hand away.

"It could be broken and hurt you!" he exclaims looking at Carlos in shock as to why he would be so silly.

"It's not broken look, there's a note inside I'm intrigued!" he says pulling it out the sand and popping the cork off the top that was keeping the paper dry.

He pulls the paper out looking and reading the note on it.

Dear Soulmate, If you picked this up, it's because something called you too. In my culture when we do this and someone picks it up it means their our soulmate. I now have to give you clues and if you're intrigued enough you'll come find me. My name is Y/N and I'm 21 years old. Clue 1: I'm from country known for it's monarchy! Clue 2: I have a degree in fashion design from a top university Clue 3: 2021 Clue 4. I work under Mr McQueen Clue 5. 36 Clue 6. Enbankment Yours Sincerely, Your Soulmate.

"No way!" Carlos laughs re-reading it! He stuffs it in his pocket, knowing to take it home and look more into it.

"What was it!" his cousin asks looking over.

"Nothing!" he exclaims not wanting his cousin to think he was crazy, but Carlos had a strong belief in fate. This meant that of course he would come and find you.

You had actually sent that bottle out years ago on your 21st birthday in Australia, you were now 24 and thriving in your career as a fashion designer in Alexander McQueen.

You'd forgotten about the bottle since you'd done it, for a few months after you hoped someone would have found it but it slowly become one of those things you just forgot about.

For Carlos, he returned home with the note in his jacket pocket and he set it down on his desk.

He couldn't help but giggle re-reading over the clues and note. As a famous F1 driver he found the working under McQueen funny, but that didn't lead him too much.

But his best chance would be to join Lando for the week before the British Grand Prix, as he knew that you'd be in the UK. According to clue 1.

"Lando, please take this seriously this is a real person I want to find her!" he exclaims shoving the photocopied version of the original letter as he didn't want to destroy it.

"Okay, right so you've determined she's a uni student from the UK. There's like over 150 universities here so it's going to be impossible especially if we don't know what year she graduated" Lando sighs looking down the clues.

"Well, what about Clue 3, 2021, you recon that's when she graduated?" he asks and Lando puts a finger on his chin, thinking for a moment.

"It could be, but that would mean she also would have sent it out in 2021, how did this survive for four years at sea!" Lando exclaims looking over at Carlos who has his head tilted in shock.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Well, the youngest you can graduate is 21 in the UK, so if she did it in 2021, at age 21 she would now be 24?" Lando admits.

"And it says top UK, university that's either Oxford or Cambridge. And only Cambridge have a specific one called Fashion Design" Lando explains after some research making some deductions.

"Take me there!" Carlos says suddenly.

"To Cambridge... no mate! Look there's other clues. She's got a fashion degree, is in the UK and works under Mr McQueen, she probably is a designer in London HQ of Alexander McQueen which would explain Embankment!" Lando deducts and Carlos just has a shocked look on his face the whole time.

"What is Enbankment?" he asks.

"It's an underground station, I bet that's the station she uses to get home, to Apartment 36 perhaps?" Lando asks.

"Fuck onlyfans, if F1 fails become a god damn detective!" Carlos says pulling him into big hug before letting go and pulling shoes and a coat.

"Where are you going?" Lando shouts after him.

"The McQueen HQ building!" Carlos shouts back.

"Do you even know where it is?" he asks making Carlos pause.

"No, but I'll find it!" he shouts back before running out the door.

He tries to find his way around the underground system of London before googling the HQ and where it was. He eventually got there into the reception checking to see it was 4pm, not the end of office work day so maybe he would catch you.

"Hi there, really sorry. Looking for a Y/N?" he asks and the older lady looks over at him with a frown.

"Business?" she says in a posh British accent.

"Erm..." he couldn't think of anything to say.

"She's a friend of mine from Uni, from Cambridge" he smiles and she looks over him.

"Well, you just missed her, she left for the day about 10 minutes ago!" she offers and he sighs.

"Enbankment!" he says before running out the building. He runs down to the underground and he starts to look around all the people on the platform.

You were stood there, leaning against the underground wall and reading your book.

Carlos eyes were darting around the platform, he could make deductive reasoning. He was looking for a 24 year old fashionista and when his eyes met yours, it was like something in him just knew that it was you.

You looked at him with your head cocked to the side in confusion as to why this man was looking like that as you. However, as the tube pulled into the station your gaze wavered as you made your way on.

Carlos was in awe that he wasn't moving until someone ran past him to try catch the door. He realized you were gone and must be on the train, so he did the same getting on as the doors were closing into separate compartment.

He waited and at every stop he'd poke his head out to see if you got off. At one particularly busy stop, some people get off and a bunch of people push on before he can poke his head out, he gravitates back towards the front and sees your hair in the little bow walk away and towards the exit.

He pushes through and jumps out the doors just as they are about to close. He runs up the only stairs that are there seeing you at the top swiping a rail card onto the scanner and being let out of the gates.

He runs foreward swiping his own card.

"Hello, sir... can we take a minute of your time to talk about Climate Change!" a protester stops him, with a smile on his face where he looks behind her to see you stepping out into the sun lit street.

"I'm really sorry! No! I'm late to meet someone!" he explains before pushing past and running through the gate swiping the Oyster Card he owned from when he worked with McLaren.

He runs out onto the street where you did letting his eyes adjust to the light as he looks around for you. His eyes catch the long dress you were wearing, it was colourful and red, a colour he considered his since working for Ferrari.

He saw you walking into a building block and started to run towards the traffic lights and presses the button straight away. He waits for the green man before running across apologising to anybody he bumped into. He finds the entrance seeing security there and panics.

God they'd think he was crazy if he asked them to let him in. But then again. He was Carlos Sainz!

"Hey, I was hoping i could look round the building. I'm thinking of letting a place!" he smiles his puppy smile at the two guards on the gate who turn to him with stoic expressions before noticing who it is.

"Yeah sure! That's fine! Can we get a picture with you? Me and my son are huge fans!" he exclaims making Carlos nod. After he walks into the building looking around for a map of where rooms were.

36 - thats what he was looking for.

17th floor, he got into the lift and pressed the number shooting up. He fixed his hair in the lift getting nervous to meet you, this complete stranger.

Why was he even doing this?

He exists the elevator and walks down the corridor to your apartment and stands outside. He waits for what feels like forever before he knocks on the door.

He waits and then there you are in front of him.

"Hi" he breathes out looking over your gorgeous features.

"Can I help you?" you ask looking over him. You could sort of remember his face, but from where you didn't know right now.

"Erm, I!" he starts.

"Wait your the guy i saw in the tube, did you ... follow me here?" you ask stepping out the apartment shutting the door behind you so he couldn't get in if he was a crazy person.

"Yes. But, your Y/N, you should be 24 right now. You went to Cambridge and studied Fashion design and live in a country with a famous monarchy. You work for a Mr McQueen which actually means Alexander McQueen where you use the tube to get to work each day and live at apartment 36" Carlos breathes out all in one breath, you cock your head to the side in curiosity wondering why they were such specific facts until he pulls out a sheet of paper that you never thought you'd see again.

"No!" you laugh putting a hand over your mouth.

"Where did you find this!" you ask looking up at the man in awe.

"A beach in Mallorca" he offers scratching the back of his neck trying to work out what you were thinking right now.

"I chucked this off a boat in Australia on my 21st birthday" you gasp in shock at how far it had come.

"My family has a holiday home in Mallorca and it was on the beach where I run everyday!" he smiles nodding.

"And you actually came to find me?" you laugh in shock thinking it was a silly thing your mum would always tell you was how your family did things. Its how she found your dad, how you nan found your grandad and how your aunt found your uncle.

"Well, I did find it. I was curious!" he grins, looking at you and you look around the corridor before you bite your lip.

"Did you maybe want to talk about all this craziness over dinner?" you ask looking up at him.

"I'd love that!" he smiles, holding a hand out for you.

"I cant believe you found me!" you smile, placing a kiss on his cheek making them turn a little pink.

"Mmmm I did find you! All from the Bottle."

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[the-californicationist]

he lets you watch

When you overhear Captain Price watching porn in his office, you decide to turn his fantasies into a reality.

Link to AO3

MDNI/18+

TW: femdom, gagging, one slap

You were working late. Again. It was the most frustrating part of any operation: recon review. All the footage collected from all the soldiers’ body cams had to be reviewed and documented. Any dialogue? Syntactically tagged. Any shots fired? Counted. Any kills? Confirmed. You were glad to help the team, but this stage of discovery was dreadfully boring. 

Even worse, your new-found crush on your captain was driving you insane. To be honest, you’d had your eye on him for a while. There was something about a man in charge, but it was when this last set of footage came through that you really went off the deep end. 

Price had gone with Gaz into a warehouse that was suspected of housing enemy munitions, and the captain had uncovered crates and crates of target-marking spray paint. Huge canisters that attached to the bottoms of planes were all stuck in little rows, lined up and ready to use. 

Unfortunately for the captain, one of the canisters was propped open on the top of its box, and when he lifted the lid, he got covered in red dye. You watched it explode, covering the camera, and then when it reconnected, there he was. Shirtless. Down to his boxer briefs. Wiping red dye off of himself with his clothes. Gaz had brought a full kit, so Price was changing out, hoping to stay covert and camouflaged in the clean gear. Couldn’t well be a glowing red dot while trying to escape enemy territory. 

His chest was broad and full of dense, dark hair, laying flat like soft fur, untrimmed and natural. His beard was streaked red, and half his face was painted, making him look like an ancient Celt, ready for brutal highland battles and bedding willing lassies. He was frustrated by his accident, so all of his movements were sharp and aggressive, his muscles raging and wrestling against his skin. Then, he moved closer to the camera, and the bulge in his underwear became glaringly apparent. 

Hung. Thick. Not so long that it was out of place, but heavy. His cock was imposing, and when he readjusted himself, you could see how dense the muscle really was. You couldn’t help but pause the film, staring, in glorious 4k. You nearly had to wipe the drool from your mouth. 

Price looked so confident here. He was always self-assured, but sometimes, when you spoke with him, there was something that he was holding back. Some shyness perhaps, maybe just a reserved nature, but not here. Not in his livid rage, he was like a wounded beast - angry and virile. Full of righteous energy. It made you imagine making him come undone in other ways, in the ways a woman was meant to make a beast like that come apart at the seams. Ripping the constricting threads and freeing the hulking creature looming within. 

Now, he was sitting in his office, right next to yours, and he’d started watching footage of his own. Or, at least, you thought that he was watching the cams…until you heard a woman’s salacious moan penetrate the thin wall between you. 

Your eyes grew wide, and your breath caught in your chest. You sat in the silence of your office, hearing your heart pound in your ears. You waited to hear it again, just to be sure.

Then, a very quiet, 

“You wanna come?”

You let out the breath you’d been holding. It wooshed from you like a wave crashing against miles and miles of sand. 

Something snapped, some darkness possessed you. You found yourself standing, walking toward the door to his office. It was so late, everyone else had turned in. Just you and him in the west hall of the base awake. He never slept, it seemed. A night owl like you. 

You opened his door without knocking. You’d never done that before, and objectively, it was a truly insane choice. 

In your mind, his hand had lingered when he took his cup of coffee from your hands. In your imagination, he’d cocked a sly smile when you made a joke, just between you and him. You thought you’d seen him checking out your ass in the gym. But, you didn’t have any real proof. 

Popping open his door was the equivalent of pulling the trigger on a bazooka. 

He stood, caught like a fox in a snare, his chair clattering as you came into the room and shut the door behind you quickly. 

“Sergeant, uh,” he recovered, “What happened?”

“Captain.” 

It was a full sentence. And, it was all you had. You were finished. 

The video was still playing. The lurid slapping of skin on skin. Her over-acted moans, his ritual panting. Every few seconds, you counted three, there was another soft,

“You like that, daddy?”

You smiled. He turned red, just like he’d been painted again. 

“Sergeant, I was just…”

He paused the movie. Then, with his body, with the hand roughly rubbing down his face, with the palm tightly covering his mouth, he said a million other words. He was still pink with shame, and then he laughed,

“Yeah, no. I was ‘bout to have a wank. Not sure why I was trying to make you believe otherwise, love. Sorry. It’s too loud?”

You smiled wider. His genuine honesty was so smooth and effortless. A thief caught with his hands in the cookie jar, begging you to punish him for it. 

“No,” you shook your head, “Just wanted to see what you were watching.”

He didn’t register what you said at first, still staring down at his boots. Then, realization washed over him and he looked up at you, eyes shining, brows arched.

“Oh? That so?”

You nodded,

“Let me see what’s got you up so late.”

The captain rubbed a big, calloused hand across his mouth, smoothing his beard, a bit nervous. Then, he pulled a chair around and motioned for you to sit beside him. You sat. He sat. He hit play. 

A woman was straddling a man, both of them hairless and slick like brand new Barbie dolls, spray-tan orange and bleach-blond hair. Americans. She was riding his larger than average dick slowly, deliberately slow, edging him with her pussy. She had a hand around his throat, grasping his jaw tightly, pushing his head back. He was tied to the chair, straining against it, clearly desperate as he writhed beneath her, fighting his restraints. 

“Please, baby. Please, let me come?” He begged. 

“You wanna come, daddy?” She teased. 

“Yeah, can I come?” He begged. 

“Ah-ah! I don’t think so…” She teased. 

Begging. Teasing. Begging. Teasing. A vicious, uncontrollable cycle of cruelty on her part, always pulling the proverbial carrot farther and farther from his snapping jaws. 

You turned to Price who was watching, rapt. He noticed you staring at him. Before he turned to face you, he smiled, sighing,

“Sometimes, when you’re the one barking orders all day, it’d be nice to turn your head off and follow someone else’s for a change.”

“You could follow my orders,” some psychotic part of you spoke. 

He gripped the side of the chair, his once-relaxed hands now making the cheap aluminum frame creak and pop. 

“What’d you say, Sergeant?”

“You heard me, Captain,” you didn’t know if you should call an exorcist or what. Who was this version of yourself and how quickly was she going to get you court martialed?

“You think you can order me around?”

You leaned in, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath, Cuban cigars leaving earthy notes of vanilla and licorice behind. You whispered,

“I know I can.”

He breathed out, his exhale caressing your lips, threatening to kiss you. 

You didn’t move. Not a muscle. You locked eyes with him, 

“Sit on your hands, Captain.”

“Sergeant,” he tried to kiss you, but you pulled away quickly. 

Part of your body screamed at you, wondering why you’d avoid his advances, but your mind knew what he wanted. He needed to lose control. For a man like Price to lose it, it must be taken from him. Forcibly. 

“I said sit... on... them,” you sneered, making yourself larger by standing over him, placing your hands on his thighs to press into his skin. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed, patronizing and light-hearted. It made you want to break him of that habit. Of thinking you were just his sergeant. Just the girl who brought him coffee. Just his gym buddy. 

He still hadn’t complied, chuckling to himself. Out of no where, you straight up fucking slapped him. Hard. Right across the jaw. Grabbing him by the collar,

“Sit on your fucking hands, soldier. That’s an order,” you barked. 

He sat on his hands, staring at you like you had doused yourself in gasoline and caught yourself on fire, in awe.

You pushed his chair back until you had room to move in front of him, and you began peeling off your clothes, one by one. Your shirt, your cargos, your bra, your panties; they all ended up on the floor, leaving you naked and touching yourself lazily, letting your hands wander. 

He moved to lift his hands off his seat, wanting to touch, so you backed away from him. It was a warning: move and this ends. Follow my orders, and I’ll stay. He settled back down. 

“You know, I should punish you for slapping me, Sergeant. That’s insubordination,” he chided, trying to regain control of the situation. 

You took your panties off the ground and found the wet stain he’d caused, showing it to him coyly, like you’d picked up a pretty shell from the beach. It gleamed in the light of his desk lamp. Then, you walked over to him, swaying your hips, and bent down as if to kiss him. 

As he opened his mouth to kiss you back, you pushed your panties into it, past his teeth, clutching at his jaw with the other hand as roughly as you could, knowing you couldn’t hurt him. You shushed his surprised noises, putting a finger to his lip,

“Shh, Captain. That’s enough. You’re not in charge anymore, are you?”

He furrowed his brow as if he would fight back, as if he would remove his hands and teach you a lesson. Then, as he tasted you on his tongue, he realized that you were offering prizes for obedience. He would reap the rewards, if he was willing to play along. His face softened, and he shook his head no. 

“Good boy,” you whispered. 

You kissed his mouth, awkwardly, since it was full of your wet panties, there was little he could do except experience your kisses. He reacted as if he wanted to kiss you back, and as you moved to kiss his jawline, he moaned. 

Price’s moans were rumbling and deep, long and low like a bull elephant’s roar. You wanted to drag that noise out of him again. Your hand found his belt buckle, and you rugged at it, willing it to loosen. As you kissed his neck, you drug down his zipper and freed his cock from the fabric. 

The captain was not soft. If anything, he was harder than he should’ve been for a little teasing and some neck kisses. You decided to use that to his disadvantage,

“My, my, my. Someone’s eager…”

You tugged up and down with length in a long, languid massage, feeling how his foreskin slipped over the head and down the shaft, smooth and supple. He was hairy around the root of his cock, just as you’d hoped, and after seeing the video of him covered in paint, you wished you could strip him down and run your fingernails through his chest hair, delicately scratching his skin and peaked nipples. 

For now, you spit on his cockhead, using it as lube as you rubbed him. He threw his head back in ecstasy. You removed your hand. He snapped back to attention, staring at you a bit desperate for relief. 

You giggled, 

“Is this for me, or for her?”

Pointing over your shoulder, you motioned to the paused video. You took your hand away, feigning hurt feelings.

His body arched toward you, missing your touch, and he shook his head, trying to say something. 

“For her? How disappointing,” you pouted, playing with the head of his cock with one finger, drawing circles around the edge. 

Price was saying something muffled through the fabric of your panties, shaking his head, scooting his chair closer with a quick thrust of his hips, making his cock flag from the jolting movement. 

“You know,” you whispered, drawing him in with your quiet tone, “if this was for me, I’d really be looking forward to feeling it inside of me.”

“Mmm. Mm, mm!” He tried to correct you, his shoulders straining as he pulled them forward, struggling against his self-imposed restraint. 

“Oh?” You caressed his face, rubbing your hand through his soft beard, feeling the stubble on his chin, “It is for me after all?”

“Mm hm,” he nodded, leaning his cheek into your palm, eyes hooded with relief. 

You could tell he was enjoying the game. You were enjoying it, too. You could feel how wet you were, watching him gaze at your shining folds hungry. Impatient. 

“In that case…” you straddled him, planting your knees on either side of his hips, trapping his cock between you both. His body felt warm, and his breathing was labored. 

You rubbed your wetness up and down his shaft, spreading yourself along his length, making wet little sounds as you smeared him until he was slippery. 

Carefully, you moved his head into your eager pussy, your walls pounding for him like a heartbeat. Then, you held his throat with your hand, forcing him to look at you. 

“You don’t get to come until I tell you to. Do you understand, soldier?”

“Mm, hm,” he nodded, rolling in the ecstasy of your tight cunt. 

“Good, boy.”

[eatommo]

Hotshot [c.f.99]

CW: Poly!batchxreader, group sex, exhibitionism, oral sex (m&f recieving), double penetration, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, vaginal and anal creampie, multiple partners, cumshots, anal sex, ass eating, spanking, praise, authority kink, cucking? kinda?, implied recording of sex, mention of weapons, mentions of aftercare, overstimulation, post season 7 pre omega, dom/sub dynamics, allusions to subspace, slight degradation, shower sex, mutual pining lots of kissing, no clonecest, liberties for hunter's tattoo, reader has hair long enough to pull, reader gets picked up and carried, i probably missed something let me know!

A/N: 5.6k of pure smut, absolutely no plot here. All mistakes are mine, repost and let me know what/if you like <3

As you climb the steps to the Marauder, something about this mission feels different.  It's been months since you've been away from the boys, and almost as long since you cared.  

Since running away from the clutches of the empire and charming your way aboard the ship you've become an asset to the team even in just your companionship, but it was also nice to have someone around who wasn't a clone.  It made it that much easier to do recon, and also that much easier to infiltrate a group because your face wasn't spread across every corner of the Empire. 

However, the longer you stayed with them, the more you valued what made them different.  You learned who to go to for help with blaster trouble, and even learned to overlook Crosshair’s slights during your target practice.  You’ve also learned that Hunter was sensitive to flowers and strong scents and that he had the best-smelling soap aboard the ship (and never seemed to mind when you used it). Tech, on the other hand, was always great at making you feel included, but was always, always going to double-check anything you did to the ship ‘just in case.’ Echo might've been one of the most interesting people to talk to, during his work with the 501st and the glory days of working alongside some of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy he saw many planets and cultures that you had only dreamed about.   Wrecker, well, he was a big softy despite his talent for demolitions and overall penchant for violence, he was the first to volunteer to take you out and stretch your legs in a nearby city and to help you bring home rations (and a sweet treat or two) for the rest of the crew, and has even carried you home from cantina trips a time or two. 

They were closer than any other troop you'd seen, all depending and working so tightly and neatly together you'd think that adding you to the mix would complicate things but all you seemed to do was fit in like sand in the desert.   You fell into a routine, they'd leave you at the ship during more dangerous jobs, typically with Echo or Tech at your side to assist with any repairs as you kept the inside of the ship in order, and kept a close eye on any equipment and prepping rations and meals as they became available. 

After a stop on Batuu, in which you fought every urge to procure a Loth cat, instead letting Crosshair buy you a long thin vibroblade to appease you.  “I haven't given up by the way.” You shout over your shoulder, as you settle into your seat before the others.  

“I've thought so.” Tech, his voice more amused than anything.  “Let us not berate the woman so that she uses that thing on us, shall we? We are cleared for takeoff.” Wrecker chuckles at the idea of you brandishing the thin blade to any of them.  You could hold your own for sure, but you were no ARC trooper. 

You settle aboard, staying seated until you reach the upper atmosphere, locking your cloak away with your blade, settling back into the seat near the cockpit, and resting your head against the wall.   

“If you need rest, my bunk is open,”  Wrecker whispers his words and his voice contradicting each other.  He's gruff but his speech is soft like he's afraid to startle you, he's cleaning his blaster but leans forward to speak softly to you. “It's still the biggest bunk.” He smiles and with his helmet in his lap, you can see the intense scaring over the side of his head, and your fingers twitch at your side begging to caress it.

“I'm fine thank you.”  You beam at him surprised by the crack in your voice and not wanting to seem ungrateful for the gesture.  “I’m quite content out here.”  Wrecker blushes, as if embarrassed he even brought it up.  

You can hear the audible judgemental breath of Crosshair even from your position behind his back, as he examines his rifle, something amiss and there's a thick tension in the room you can't quite place.  Glancing around as they settle in for take-off, none of them seem to want to meet your eyes.  

“I didn't expect you all to get so shy, I thought maybe you were starting to warm up to me.”   You let your voice trail off, a hint of a tease that cuts into the thick tension in the air for a brief moment. Before Hunter sharply stands up and lets his feet carry him towards you.  

Last night’s mission for Rex was messier than any of you had expected and used up the last of your bacta supply.  Hence the trip to Batuu, and what you thought was a tense conversation about purpose or authority between the group.  You’d overheard something about keeping secrets when you’d greeted them at the ship’s ramp and the pinched nerve in Hunter’s jaw encouraged you to keep your mouth shut.  Since the tension between each of them has been as taught and dangerous as a tightrope.  As the long-haired clone approached you, you sat straighter, already apologizing for being difficult before he cut you off. 

Leaning down until he is practically whispering in your ear, "We are programmed to be professional first and foremost. And we are not always so shy."

Just sharing your space with him has your body reacting to him, vibrating in both fear and a sneaking feeling of arousal.  His breath is hot and you turn to look into his dark brown eyes, eyes you should be so familiar with. “I am not an officer, I do not bite, and there's no reason to be formal.” the sentence comes out as a squeak, and you try to hide embarrassment flashing through your cheeks. 

He smiles, his voice dips lower but is so soft you swear you can feel his words caress your skin, “Easy hotshot, we might like a woman who bites.”

Oh, oh wow. We.

In an instant, everything and all your feelings about them shift and change.  You spent the last few rotations convincing yourself it was normal to feel bubbly around them, they'd saved you, and they were providing for you.  This feeling, the unmistakable pull of longing and need in the pit of your belly, would complicate things.  

Hunter stands and departs the conversation with an ease you envy.  You take a deep breath and compose yourself just to look up and see the rest of the crew watching you, like a wounded animal, you catch just a glimmer of a blush in Echo’s face.  

Rex mentioned they were a tight-knit group he seemed shocked you fell in line with them, but hell you didn't expect this.  Each of them is in their thoughts as you glance around the ship.  Echo and Tech are busying themselves with the controls, but you can see Echo worrying his lip, and Tech turning his head to glance at you every few moments as if wondering what will happen first.  Or rather who?  

Crosshair stares at you, blankly like he's trying to read every line in your smile or every wrinkle in your clothes, your eyes click together and he smiles like a lothcat with a womprat in his teeth. “You're not intimidated by us?”  It's almost as if he's as shocked as the fact itself,   there's a cutting edge to the statement like you should be, and then a corner of his mouth turns up. “You like being here,” he tests the statement as if tasting the fact on his tongue, “with all of us.”

You smirk, doing your best to match the heat in his stare, “I am grateful. I've never felt so important or wanted,” you swallow thickly letting the heat in your body you know Hunter can sense, speak for itself,   “At least, not yet.” You shift in your seat glancing up at Hunter who is glaring hungrily at your chest as if he could hear your heart leap in your chest with every passing moment.  

 You glance up to the stars ahead of the ship, Tech looks like he's preparing the ship to jump to light speed.  The return mission, at its worst, should only take a few days and even less of that is travel, normally you're not one for long lightspeed trips but this time you wonder if it will be too short.

The way the crew looks at you makes your skin tingle, not sure if you’ve ever been paid this much attention before.  As the ship lurches into hyperspace, you let your head lull back to catch Hunter's attention, peering up towards his face as your chin hovers just a foot away from his codpiece.  

Doing your best to keep your breath even, a part of you wishes to stand and kiss him, but this time it’s your turn to feel shy.  You stand, brushing your chest across Hunter’s’ and waltzing over to lean against the control panel of the ship and the two quieter clones on this ship.

The moment Tech realizes you’re moving towards him his posture is stuck straight, but Echo only leans slightly towards you as you pass your hand over his shoulder.  Standing at the front of the ship has only allowed them all to stare at you, your heart skips a beat.  You see Hunter’s eye twitch, he is reading you like a book.

“Well,” you speak slowly and eloquently, playing into their curiosity, “How should we pass the time?”

“Come here.” the room's attention snaps to Crosshair, whose red-hot gaze is marring into your skin. Silence falls over the craft as Crosshair lifts a hand and gestures toward his empty waiting lap.   Slowly, Echo, Tech, and Wrecker turn again towards you but Hunter stays strong locked into some silent dialogue with his brother.  

You feel as if it is entirely dangerous to cross the space between the two. Yet your feet carry you without worry, and neither of them breaks until their vision is obstructed by your body. You turn facing the softened expression in Hunter’s eyes, and slowly lower yourself onto Crosshair's lap.  

Placing your hands on his knees to steady yourself, you lean back until your head is resting on his chest and his breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “Good girl.” 

His whispers send shivers down your spine and Hunter sinks to his knees in front of you, as Cross removes your shirt from over your head and the rest of the Batch descends upon you like wolves.  

As Hunter’s face presses against the softness of your hip, Tech's teeth graze your neck and Wrecker's hands smooth over your nipples, you're overwhelmed at their strength.  These are battle-hardened soldiers, Crosshair runs a calloused finger down your spine, and you're reminded how soft you are.  Your skin is plush and comforts all of Hunter’s senses as the boys proceed to lose themselves upon you, you're reminded of the comfort they provide for you, a safety net you never knew you craved and the appetite you never knew could become so hungry.  

Your canvas pants are ripped down the leg by Wrecker and Hunter’s combined efforts, the sound almost drowned out by a collection of panting wanton noises, and the scraps hit the floor out of sight.  

Hunter noses across the top of your panties, letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin of your pussy as you feel Cross shift his hips and push his hard cock into your ass.  All of them are in full armor, save for the helmets, yet you lie strewn out before them slick pooling in your panties as they take turns pulling pleasure from your body like they serve no higher purpose.  

It's Wrecker who pulls himself from his flight suit first, and you can't remember ever having such a physical reaction to something like this before.  You reach out on instinct, fingers not wrapping completely around his girth and teasing the pink tip until it begins to leak into your palm.  He towers over your head as whimpers and shudders wrack through his body as though he's never been touched.  

You catch a glimpse of Echo, standing slightly off to the side, watching with his pupils fully dilated as he follows the path of Hunter’s mouth on your skin his face flush with crimson.  Tilting your head back you turn towards Crosshair and give him a deep kiss, letting him lick into your mouth feverishly. Hunter’s fingers trace over your seam delicately over the thin fabric of your panties as they grow transparent with your desire.  

Wrecker’s cock is thick and heavy in your hand, and you clench wantingly around nothing, his hips brush into your hand with a tenderness you long to experience. Crosshair snakes a hand up your chest and cradles the thin skin over your throat, chasing Tech’s glancing kisses away,  but taking the opportunity to encourage you to grind your hips against his cock.  

In a few mere movements, the men surrounding you have altered your state of mind and each passing touch coaxes you further into submission.  Tech shifts and lets his breath ghost over your nipples, you turn your head and catch Hunter in a deep kiss noting how different he tastes and feels against you. You let your thumb swipe over the leaking tip of Wrecker's cock, and fight the urge to stuff your fingers in your mouth to taste.  

Hunter breaks the kiss and steps away, letting Echo take his place between your legs but not before using his dagger to cut the hip of your undergarments and stuffing them into one of his pant pockets.  

You blush at the obscenity of it all, but it quickly soothed away but the cool metal of Echo’s headpiece brushing over your thighs. Wordlessly Crosshair adjusts the seat so your pussy is presented to Echo, leaning more onto your back and looking up at the boys devouring your form. 

His mouth is hot, licking softly over your clit as you relax with Crosshair stroking the pulse point in your neck.  You’re slick with arousal and he doesn’t hesitate to lick it up teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. 

You writhe, letting yourself melt against him, fighting to stay concentrated enough to play with Wrecker’s balls tugging and rolling them beneath your fingers.  Eager to pleasure every one of them.  

Echo’s glove ghosts over your sex, teasing your entrance with a digit, the leather smoothly gliding over your skin. Hunter and Tech each take to stroking down your thighs and holding them in place, “Easy, meshla, we will take good care of you.” 

Your mind is swimming, when did this start? Tech steps a hair closer to your face, tilting your jaw up with his free hand, and slips a finger past your lips. You suck lightly, sure to match the pace at which you’re stroking Wrecker.  You get a praising hum, and Tech surprisingly is the second to drop his pants and pull himself free. Stroking himself to the rhythm of you teasing him with a curl of your tongue.    

It's the tangled moan of you around Tech’s fingers that breaks Crosshair, his pants unbearably tight and each little movement of your hips making him clench his jaw to stave the noises that die in his throat.  He lifts you to your feet, and removes his pants, letting himself spring free.  You have to admit you expected the armor to be harder to take off. 

You stand on unsteady feet, in an attempt to turn your head towards Crosshair, Hunter captures your chin in two fingers locking your eyes together.  “Echo.” A chuckle reverberates between them, all seemingly on board with whatever plan this could be. Echo slides flat onto his back looking up at you and the rest of the boys.  The realization is enough to make you shiver. Your pussy clenches, still empty, but a dripping mess sticks your thighs together.  Hunter’s eyes are burning through your resolve, there’s an intensity you’d come to respect that now sends a spike of fear through you.  “Sit.”

You go to protest but are quickly shut down and you look around at the men surrounding you eagerly but patiently waiting for you to follow his instructions.  Swallowing thickly over the lump in your throat, you sink to your knees and hover a few inches from Echo’s waiting mouth.  From your knees they tower above you, all but Hunter free from their confines.  You get a good look at the three cocks, all weeping and swollen pink across their tip, beautifully complimenting the darker-tanned skin of their shaft.  

Each of them was different, which only slightly surprises you, Wrecker being the thickest, but both Tech and Crosshair meet him in length.  You can feel each breath from Echo’s mouth, knowing you're probably close to dripping across his chin. You lower slowly, afraid to hurt him, until he licks the seam of your entrance savoring the hot flesh and you seek his tongue sitting on his face in earnest.  His mouth brings welcome waves of pleasure as he suckles on your clit.  

They pump themselves slowly, enjoying the view of your tits bouncing with each shiver.   You start to move your hips in small circles while reaching to palm over Crosshair’s balls and stroking up over his shaft squeezing a bead of precome from the tip.  You open your mouth and glance between them, expecting to see some kind of hierarchy emerge but they take a half step toward you together.  

You opt for taking Tech into your mouth, but only because he's in the middle, letting yourself drool around him as you suck on the thick knot of his cock head, before turning and spitting the excess saliva onto Crosshair’s cock coating it with slick to make your fist glide against him nice and quickly. Tightening around the base and working more of those beautiful precum drips from his leaking tip.  

You snap back to Tech’s cock, tasting the sweat of his skin, and the desire for your body grows with each passing second as he throbs needfully in your mouth.  

Echo is teasing your clit with calculated movements of his tongue, licking around it in sharp purposeful circles, and sucking on it every few passes.  Enough to make your brain fuzz up each time his lips seal around you as Tech nudges the back of your throat to earn a gag.  

You pull off him again, this time gathering the drool in your mouth to cover as much of Wrecker's cock as you physically can.  His cock is so heavy it sways low on his hips thick and so hard your body is already aching for the sting that will accompany the stretch.  You use the thick spit to pump him slower, allowing yourself a moment to admire what has to be the largest you'll ever get the chance to worship. 

The slick sounds are broken with an “Atta girl.”  in the shape of a deep growl from Wrecker’s chest.  He reaches and gathers some drool from your chin and brushes it over your lip and you open instinctively, just as Echo uses his tongue to prod at your entrance.  His praise is as wholesome as his affection for you.

Hunter has taken a seat across from the rest of you, watching as if analyzing each movement of your legs as they quiver from the ravenous pleasure and your throat tightens around the length of Crosshair's shaft.  His thin fingers find purchase at the back of your neck, urging you to sputter around him and the sick squelch just barely audible beneath your moans. 

Echo swiftly plunges two fingers into your pussy, crooking them and stroking deliciously at your g-spot and forcing you to pull yourself away from Crosshair to let your head drop as you fight for composure.  “Let yourself enjoy it little one.  It won’t be your last.” Cross takes the tip of his cock and taps the tip to your tongue.  

You swear, body humming and teetering on the edge before losing yourself to one hellishly explosive orgasm.  It shocks you, body shaking and toes curling against the cool floor as your body burns in the aftershocks Echo works you through it with some tentative kisses to your entrance, and he encourages you to sit up so he can slide out from under you. 

So much of the room is spinning you don’t notice Tech sitting in front of you until you’re kissing him.  His tongue finds yours in a syrupy sweet and methodical kiss as you fight to catch your breath.  Wrecker moves behind you, running his rough hands down your back and palming the flesh of your ass, striking it with a loud slap.  

Tech swallows your gasp, pinching your nipples and pulling them as Wrecker bends you at the waist until you’re scrambling to your hands and knees sucking Tech into your mouth with a compliant and satisfied hum.  

Hunter speaks up, “Turn around.” The trance is broken for the briefest of seconds, and you don't have time to think before they’re turning you so you’re faced with Wrecker’s huge cock and Tech teases your entrance with the tip of his cock.  The passive command that Hunter has over all of you gives you goosebumps, his authority even stronger than the ache they share for you. 

You sink to your elbows, propping your ass up on display and practically begging for Tech to fuck you, pushing back onto the head of his cock, all while blinking away tears as Wrecker’s size makes your jaw ache.  The larger man splays his hand across the back of your head, inciting your thick moans as you work as much of him as you can fit. 

Tech’s hips pitch forward and he’s splitting you open in one fluid deep thrust until your ass is nestled against his hips and he grunts at the eager squeeze of your sex around him. You work your hips in sync with your head the drag of his cock along your walls is unlike anything you’ve ever felt.  He shifts from both knees to one, allowing a deeper thrust to kiss your cervix with a hiss of pain-laced pleasure.  He sets a pace, hips meeting yours in synchronous harmony, and the three of you get lost in each other's pleasure.  

You’re briefly aware of Crosshair stroking himself above you and Hunter is still watching with bated breath as you service his brothers, wondering if you’ll let each of them have a turn or if they’ll need to give you a break.  

Tech snakes a hand around to press a firm thumb against your clit, and a rush of fluid hits the floor of the cargo space that permeates his senses. The sickly sweet smell of your release coats his tongue and he chokes the head of his cock through his clothes to stop him from cumming before he even gets to touch you.  

Your vision is white, and you’re vaguely aware of the spend running down your thighs.  When Tech pulls himself free with a grunt you feel the hot ropes of his cum on your back you whine, feeling ashamed that you long for him to finish inside of you.  You clench around nothing and sit up to look at Wrecker who brushes a hair out of your face.  You kiss him, softly at first, unsure of his comfort with the taste of his precome in your mouth, but he growls and lifts you by your waist, licking into your mouth as he helps you hover over his cock.  

You take advantage of the break, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking the weight off your knees in favor of straddling him. Even in his lap, you’re looking up at him.  Letting gravity do some of the work, you adjust to let him prod at your entrance and sink slowly onto him, the slick warmth of your pussy a welcome substitute for your pretty mouth. 

His chest rumbles beneath yours, groaning as your pussy flutters around him.  You kiss him through a grimace, “Take your time.” He whispers against your mouth, low enough you’re not sure the others hear him.  Heart swelling at the compassion, you let him slowly rock his hips against you, easing his way into your heat and keeping his hands splayed across your hips to support you.  

It’s a slow process, each inch accompanied by breathless and muffled moans followed by kisses and words of endearment.  “You can take it mesh’la.” You’re nearly there, body so in tune with his every word you nearly forgot your showmanship. 

Crosshair is to your right, one hand gripping the base of his cock as precome dribbles and hangs just out of reach from your eager tongue, muttering something in a language you don’t understand. 

You swear you can feel the throb of Wrecker inside of you, and he presses his mouth to your forehead as he pistons his hips slowly angling your body in a way so that he’s moving you along his shaft effortlessly. 

Breathless and spent, you let him.  Being filled by him is almost overwhelming, each push and pull feeling like he's going to split you in half.   He mumbles and groans into your hairline, speaking nonsense in between bitten-off praise.  When his fingers find your clit you all but cry, shaking your head in protest, “Please- I can't.” 

It's Hunter that answers your cries, “You can.” His voice hoarse with need and restraint, “Be a good girl.” Your brow furrows, in concentration, tossing your head back in near agony at the overstimulation. 

Wrecker leans forward and presses his mouth to the column of your throat sucking on the thin skin and leaving a pink welt in his wake.  You feel as if you could explode, not able to hear the sounds of your screams as you shudder and writhe under his touch, against his skin and your body falls slack with the overwhelming pleasure. 

He lifts his face and you catch a pleased smile, like a loth-wolf with its prey in its teeth.  As he throbs and fucks his spend deep into your core.  They all see the muted smile tug at the corner of your mouth as Wrecker cums inside you.  

He holds you for a moment, kissing over the reddish blemish on your throat and waiting for you to make eye contact with him before slipping free with a tangled whimper from both of you.  

Wrecker wraps your legs around him and stands on sturdy legs, you cling to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder hyperaware of the wetness between your thighs. He sets you on Hunter's lap, in your euphoria, he’s lost his pants and sits still in a pair of soft cotton underwear, stark black against his tanned abdomen.  It’s now that you notice his tattoo, so familiar with the portion on his face you never notice how the tattoo bleeds across the entire left side of his body.  

The lines are both clean and elegant, highlighting the rich flawless tone of his figure.  Gorgeously broad shoulders with rippling cords of muscles supporting your cheek as you rest your head lazily and admire him.  Placing a lingering and exhausted kiss to the stretch of skin between his shoulder and neck and relishing the warmth of him against your sweat-soaked skin, in the extra cold air of a ship in hyperspace.  

He runs his fingers through your hair, scratching lightly and working every line of tension out of you over a few minutes.  You distantly hear the sound of the fresher’s shower being turned on.  Crosshair is gone, and you fear a pang of regret and pity. 

 Your breath is coming easier by the time, Hunter carries you towards the sound of the water.  Crosshair meets you both under the water’s spray refreshing your senses and soothing the ache of your muscles. You get settled on your feet between them, legs feeling like they’re made of sand, Hunter’s body is pressed tightly to your back, anchoring and steadying you as you greet Crosshair with an inviting kiss. 

He welcomes your touch, all but overtaking your space completely as you get pressed between the two of them and lost to the feeling of their bodies against yours, Hunter nestled into the small of your back and Crosshair’s cock leaking and purple with need against your belly.

The steam only adds to the dreamlike quality of it all, tendrils wafting off the ground and highlighting the sight of your ass pressed against him.  Hunter doesn’t want to hurt you, but each passing second without fucking you is making him lose his sanity.  As if he might just sink into the floor with the weight of his need crushing him entirely.  

He nibbles at your earlobe, earning a low whine from your chest.  You tilt your head in invitation for his affection, kissing up the column of your neck and tasting the water on your skin tangled with the smell of his brothers.  He makes eye contact with Crosshair, and they communicate silently as they spin you around and switch roles.  

Hunter licking into your mouth and letting his hand run down to your hip and pull you to him.  Expecting the press of Crosshair to your back, you’re startled when you feel the graze of his teeth on your ass.  His palms run over the smooth skin, kneading the flesh and watching it move in response to his touch.  

Crosshair splays a hand on the small of your back, urging you to lean forward.  You glance over your shoulder as he spreads you open and licks a stripe across your asshole. The feeling sends a shiver down your spine, you hear a chuckle as he presses the pad of his thumb into you and watches you with a hungry stare. 

Hunter distracts you, kissing you slowly and running his hands soothingly down your back as Crosshair preps you to take him until he’s working two fingers in and out of you and sucking a bruise into your hip to match the one adorning your throat.  

You nibble on Hunter’s lip, and bury your hands into his hair, tugging at the root living for the whimpers you get out of him.  Crosshair kisses his way up your spine, standing straight, and this time you see them.  There’s a small nod of agreement and both of them turn their full attention to you, “You gonna let us fuck you cyar’ika?”

 Without hesitation, you nod.  You’re not able to explain, how you were able to wrap your arms around Hunter as he hoisted you up his waist and you sank down onto his length.  Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was the way he demanded your submission through the tone of his voice.  No, you thought, it was the way he sounded like he was begging you, he commanded your attention but the way he used his authority had you believing that you, and what he asked of you, was the most important thing in the galaxy.  You wanted nothing more than to give him everything he asked for and more. 

They give you a moment, Hunter biting his lip as your cunt squeezes him like you haven’t already come three times already.  You throw an arm around Crosshair’s neck opening your legs just enough for him to slot himself against you and slowly push into you with the cant of his hips.  

He goes incredibly slow, sawing his hips back and forth and relishing in the feeling of Hunter’s cock also nestled deep inside you making you impossibly tighter and the friction of your walls against him.  

It feels like too much, pain and pleasure mixing in an enchanting cocktail of stimulation, yet still the familiar tug of an orgasm stirs in your belly.  You suppress a sob at the idea of coming for a fourth time around the both of them.  They hush you, nuzzling against you and pressing righteous and thankful kisses to your skin, “Look at you, pretty girl.” Crosshair’s voice is so low and drawn out that it takes every last shred of your concentration to hear what he’s saying, “You look so good taking everything we give you.” 

The inflection acts like a highlight reel, your body remembering along with your brain the feeling of being the center of attention during your first orgasm.  The complexity of your second. The white-hot stretch of Wrecker using and worshipping your body filling you to the brim during the aftershocks of your third.  Hunter whispers against the shell of your ear, “Good girl.” Reading the signs of your body and feeling the crest of your orgasm build around him, and pulling you over the edge with his praise. 

He presses his forehead to yours as he follows close behind, senses overwhelmed and fighting the bend to his knees as they buckle with the intensity of his climax.

Crosshair pumps into you from behind, lifting one of your legs slightly and changing the angle so he can thrust deeper grinding into you, and urging you to lean more heavily on him to keep the three of you from collapsing as he stills and spills into you. 

The three of you pant in silence, ragged breath lost in the noise of the water hitting the metal floor of the fresher, you wordlessly separate.  The endorphins running through your bloodstream turn your muscles' pain into a blissful ache you never want to forget. 

[nowimjustastranger]

possible fic request: chap 2/3 ford pov of you look like yourself (but you’re somebody else) when he sees stan/saves him from the creatures/patches him up? whatever works best

Ford crouched on top of a large rock that protruded from the sand, his eyes vigilantly sweeping over the expanse of desert as he sipped from his water canteen. Most of the wildlife on this planet resided underground so the ability to see had been bred out of most species, replaced with sensors that could detect vibration.

Delta/R3 wasn’t the worst dimension that Ford had traveled through, nor was it the most dangerous.

Ford paused when he saw something move in the distance, half hidden by another boulder. He tapped the side of his goggles to zoom in on the area of interest, brows furrowing when he saw a pair of human legs sticking out from behind the rock. Ford shifted as far over as he could while remaining on his perch, screwing the cap back onto his water canteen before stuffing it into his pack.

The legs shifted again, boots digging into the sand as the knees drew up to brace under an equally human torso. Ford had been consuming plenty of water and even started eating semi-regularly between doses of his meal replacement pills again, so he highly doubted what he was seeing was a result of a hallucination. Still, Ford did a quick recon of his body to be certain that he could trust his eyes.

It quickly became apparent that he was in perfect health save for some lost sleep, which meant that there was an actual human being in this wasteland with him. Ford widened his stance, pressing a hand to the rock to keep his balance, his free hand rapidly tapping the side of goggles to enhance the image. He caught a brief glimpse of grown out brown hair and an arm before a Guux descended upon its unsuspecting prey.

Ford hadn’t even seen it emerge from its burrow, as focused on the human as he was.

The scream that cut through the air had Ford’s body lunging off its perch before his brain could even register that he recognized that sound, hitting the ground running. He jammed his finger against the side of the goggles to reduce the zoom so his depth perception wouldn’t be off, his other hand drawing his gun. He couldn’t get a clear shot with the boulder in the way, so he adjusted his course to a wide arc.

Ford’s finger froze on the trigger when he cleared the rock and saw just who was dangling from the Guux’s jaws, his heart leaping into his throat at the sheer amount of red that covered both Stanley and the surrounding area. There was far too much blood outside of Stanley’s body, which jerked when the Guux began to retreat back to its burrow with its meal.

Ford heard a choked cry and it was due to muscle memory that he was able to react as quickly as he did, his hand smoothly correcting his aim before he squeezed the trigger. Ford had to lock his knees to keep from rushing to Stanley when he dropped from the Guux’s mouth, hitting the ground in an unmoving heap. Ford’s vision tunneled on Stanley as the Guux roared at him, silently willing his brother to show some sign of life.

After what felt like an eternity –but was really only a second or so– Stanley moved, weakly pushing himself up. The Guux twitched when it sensed Stanley’s movement and Ford fired two more shots before it could go for Stanley a second time. The Guux twitched as it toppled over to lay in a rapidly growing puddle of its own acrid yellow blood, sending up a plume of sand that obscured Ford’s view of his brother.

Ford prowled forward, sidestepping the Guux’s corpse as the cloud of sand was broken apart by the wind, revealing the familiar face of his teenage brother. Ford would assume he was seventeen if not for the hair, but he couldn’t possibly be any older than twenty. Ford leveled his gun with Stanley’s chest when the teen pushed himself back a bit, forcing his hand to remain steady.

Ford crept closer at a controlled pace so he could dodge at a moment’s notice, searching for any indication that this was some kind trap meant to lure him into a false sense of security. And, if it was a facade, it was a good one. Ford couldn’t find any deformities or imperfections that would reveal that this was indeed just an elaborate plot with the end goal of killing him.

So that left the suddenly very real possibility that he was currently holding his brother at gunpoint.

Stanley was talking, saying something, but Ford couldn’t hear it over the heartbeat thundering in his ears. But this wasn’t the time nor place for a breakdown, he had to compartmentalize and keep moving. Stopping meant death or worse, especially out in the open. Even so, Ford was undeniably compromised and Stanley needed immediate medical attention.

But one last test first. He had to be sure.

Ford swiftly closed the distance between them as a bitten-off shout emitted from Stanley when he foolishly tried to gesticulate, Ford swallowing the impulse to scold him for forgetting the fact that his arm and shoulder were more shredded meat than functional limb at the moment. Ford’s stomach rolled at the comparison, startling him. Ford hadn’t been squeamish since he was still a child, so feeling nausea outside of contracting an illness was a novel experience.

Stanley’s wild eyes darted down to Ford’s hand when it slipped into the inner pocket of his trench coat to retrieve the DNA reader, telegraphing his movement as he extended the device with the intention of taking some blood that was leaking from Stanley’s wound. However, Ford wasn’t exactly surprised when Stanley twisted away, shielding the wounded limb as best he could under the circumstances.

Ford’s finger tightened on the trigger automatically, causing the gun to charge in an upward crescendo that had Stanley’s face going alarmingly pale as he obediently stilled. Ford carefully relaxed his finger as he collected a sample of blood, the wind abruptly dying down as if the universe itself were holding its breath. Ford split his attention between the device and Stanley as the compartment snapped shut, braced for the worst.

The screen lit up and Ford’s mind went blank, staring down at the results in disbelief.

Stanley Filbrick Pines – Dimension M55”0

[moriaarts]

ARC Trooper Corporal Jaig

Blorbo the second, Jaig the ARC of the 343rd. In house mother and bleeding heart in disguise. With the text under the cut.

CT - 8407 “Jaig” has proven herself to be a survivor. Calm, collected and aloof, Jaig comes across as a cold and unapproachable soldier. But its a mask of a hunter observing the world for signs of danger.

The name “Jaig” was given to her early in the war when a B1 droid got in close and disarmed her. It’s not in Jaig nature to go down without a fight. It’s not in her nature to go down at all. All clones are trained in hand to hand combat, made stronger and more agile than base humans. But these are necessary against unyielding mechanical fists. Knocked off her feet by a metal backhand, she remember the raw of the wind across the sands, of the LAAT’s, of blaster fire.

She registers the B1s flooding in and going for her batchmates, her squadron, helmet forgotten she goes for the nearest one and shreds out the wires in its neck. It’s a valiant effort. It’s luck. The droid reaches back, grabbing her by the face to pull her off. It’s joints seize and all thats left as it turns on her is the command prompt to shoot and keep shooting. The fucker took her eye. Tore the skin off around it.

The scar that it left was triangular shaded, the skin too smooth for the rest of her face. A jaig eye, Jai’galaar’la sur’haii’se, a shreik-hawk eye, they said. Said her quick thinking took out a platoon of clankers when the droid she hardwired mindlessly shot a downed LAAT, blowing it, sending it crashing on top of the ones storming their trench. She just remembers being pissed because they knocked her bucket off and didn't finish the job. So she gets to trained as an ARC. It’s an honour. And she agrees but it doesn't feel real. Even assigned to the 21st Nova Corps, under the command of Commander Jet, Clone Marshal Commander Bacara, and General Ki Adi Mundi.

She never really like red. Liked the long kama though. She also had not like General Mundi. The rumour was that he had ten wives. The number changed depending on the battalion they were bunking with. It was more like four. But knowing the jedi’s no string policy she's even less of a fan. Even less in the coming months before. Jaig would be with the nova corps for few campaigns. Used to smile when Block chased her around with hair shears. How Duke would always grumbled getting dirt off his armour, and asked how she kept hers so clean and not smelling of wet bantha. But besides that she hadn't known much about herself until they had met them. Two of General Mundi’s wives met them at a medical station one a doctor the other visiting from a relief mission. Pamania. She was lovely. Covered in simple jedi cream robes all except for her eyes. Eyes of deep pools of dark purple, nebulas set in russet skin. They creased when she smiled. Lashes fluttered when she cried. They visited the medical base often. Pamania was gentle with them. Patient and kind, and fierce as a forests fire when they came back in a state. Jaig thinks she liked her. The first one to call her sister. The first to run fingers through her hair rather than playfully pull it when she gave her some self sacrificing crap. The first person to kiss her on the cheek and tell her she had a right to live in this world. War or no war.

Jaig had been younger then, Naive and unsure what to do with such gentle treatment. Who knew an innocent kiss to a clothed cheek would do such damage? Jet had scolded her and within a week she was decommissioned for improper behaviour, officially. Unofficially reassigned in shiny armour to the 343rd.  

Bonus:

Jaig loves the twins like her own. Especially Lash, whose quiet sarcasm is a family brand of deflection. She wants more with Ro, but Ro has a whole host of issues to make up with before Jaig is next in line. Doesn’t stop her having the ARF troopers back though. They both got on best, both being recon troops and with her 3rd in command and Ro in 2nd, they often share looks of exasperation and concern at the expense of Kiss.  

Here is Captain Kiss x and the rest of the company.

WIP Playlist

[system-threat-detected]

Horizontober day 2: Oceanic

More ocean machines!

The Buzzjaw, a new combat class machine based off the helicoprion shark. Hephaestus' big middle finger to boats and people who want to swim in the ocean.

The Quiverfin, a recon class machine based off of the bigeye thresher shark. They're a little small for Scrubbers to remove barnacles from, so they are occasionally seen in shallow waters rubbing themselves on sand. Sometimes they accidentally beach themselves and flop around pathetically.

The Shoalwarden, a recon class machine based off of a baikal seal. With all that synthetic muscle, they pack a powerful slam out of water, not to mention their ramming attacks underwater.

[lionheartapothecaryx]

PROTECT YOUR NECK ! Lyonessa’s Speedy Tutorial for Sharp Shootin

Protection, Uncrossing & Curse Freezin in a Traditional Hoodoo style.

A good practitioner eventually has the good common sense to be diplomatic and avoid a witch war. Avoiding drama, means avoiding headaches. It’s easy until it isn’t. Smoothing sailing isn’t always a guarantee in this world. Stay vigilant and well prepared.

Knowing how to protect, defend, uncross and cleanse yourself is a basic but crucial part of the Hoodoo practitioners spiritual hygiene.

Now this is a quick basic tutorial, to set you straight and keep you right.

⚔️ - KEEP YOUR HEAD SHARP & CULTIVATE COMMON SENSE

Hot heads, I’m talking to you. Emotional self control can save you from the stress of unnecessary witch battles with other practitioners. Be respectful, be mindful but take no shit. Try your best to avoid witch wars with other practitioners. I’ve seen these things be drawn out for years and it’s a huge colossal drain of energy and finances, usually over something very petty. Usually the person with most financial backing and resources wins but I’ve also seen clever maneuvering outweigh more powerful players.

It’s so easy to get caught up in drama in the spiritual community and have it spiral out of control. As your developing relationships, try to avoid warring and argumentative personality types so you don’t get caught in their crossfire. Committing all of your energy to constantly defending yourself from petty attacks is a waste of your energy. Cultivate social discernment & wisdom. This is not an invitation to live fearfully but smart. This is also something that takes time and practice.

On the other side of the spectrum, as you gain experience do your best to not become mad with power & trigger happy.

Constantly throwing jinxes, hexes or curses takes it’s toll mentally, energetically & physically, in some cases it can cause serious physical health problems further down the line. Don’t develop a god-complex. Stay grounded. Now I can’t tell you where to draw the line in the sand when it comes to certain situations, because every practitioner has their own code of ethics.

I’ll use myself as an example. On my spiritual journey I’ve acquired and invested in vast amounts knowledge and other resources which have made my defensive and offensive skills pretty extensive. Some of the things, rituals, and spirits that I have access to would be overkill depending on the circumstances. Coming into a massive powerful spiritual inheritance so early was hard.

I had to learn by trial and error to be more respectful of my own power. I was an overpowered baby witch shooting lightning bolts, while burning my own hands. Learning to practice emotional regulation allowed me to hone my skills better. I had to do shadow work and confront my traumas.

Cultivating a respectful working relationship between yourself, your own power and your emotions can save your life.

⚔️ - PRACTICE GOOD OFFENSE

A good practitioner will use various methods of divination to spiritually strategize before moving to attack. Attacking blindly without any knowledge, can cause all sorts of problems, especially if you’re dealing with someone who has strong spiritual or ancestral protections or a higher rank then you, worst case scenario you’re going up against a coven.

Excellent offense means doing recon. Good Reconnaisance skills means gathering information about your target, through various means of surveillance. Gather as much information about your enemies or targets resources, spiritual force or power, protection and activities. You should approach this like a military operation. Once you’ve got enough information, then you can strategize, prepare and do divination on what your next move should be.

This isn’t always easy either, depending on the skill of your target. People can cloak, shape-shift, even have guardian or monitoring spirits or ancestors to alert them. When in doubt, always use stealth. Always make sure to cloak and protect yourself when surveilling your target. It’s the most practical form of offensive protection. I’ve seen practitioners attack folks just for doing surveillance. Don’t get caught out here lacking, put on your damn armor.

All Power is intoxicating and life altering. Without self control you can seriously injure yourself and others. Ego often makes many people in this community think they are invincible, until they get humbled, tale as old as time. Respect your powers & yourself. Cultivate self control & discipline. Resist wild impulse. Build habits that protect you in the future.

Our plant allies are crucial to our practice and connection to spirit and the earth.

ASSORTED TOOLS & HERBARIUM

🌿 Mint- protection, cleansing, mental clarity refreshing, brings vitality and a fresh start. This herb is perfect for regular cleansing or removing negative energy, hexes, evil or crossed conditions

🌿 Angelica Root - strength, protection, warding off evil, safety, creates a happy home. This incredible ally is associated with Archangel Michael and said to be blessed by him in angelic lore.

🌿 Lemon Grass - clears out negative stagnant energy, breaks blockages, rejuvenates and brings positive vitality, breaks curses, uncrossing.

🌿 King Solomon’s Root - Protection, Wisdom, Wards off All Evil & Negativity

🌿 Red Brick Dust - creates an protective energetic shield around your spiritual and physical being.

🌿 White, Black, Sea or Kosher Salt - Cleansing, Purifying, Protective

🌿Rosemary - Cleansing, Purifying, Stabilizing, Protective

🌿 Camphor - Cleansing, Purifying, Protective, Wards off Chaos, Negativity, Evil Spirits, Hex Breaking

🌿 Cayenne Pepper - Speedy, Fiery Protection, Cursing, Hexing, Jinxing

Redbrick dust, Solomon & Angelica Root can be sprinkled along your widows or the four corners of the house to create a protective house space. This same blend can be mixed with holy water, an a petition and frozen as a defensive protective ward to temporarily freeze the effects of a curse, until you can remove it. This same mix can be used in a bowl, outside the freezer as regular defensive ward from any potential threats.

Lemongrass and mint can be used to make a cleansing spiritual bath to remove jinxes, crossed conditions and break blockages, while rejuvenating your spiritual energy. Angelica Root can be added to this bath for extra protective effect.

These herbs can also be used in candle magick, mojos, poppets and more.

Traditionally our Elders used beeswax, oil lamps, bonfires or cookpits, utilizing whatever the resources available, to conduct pyromancy. Color correspondence was utilized in other ways, with herbs, scarves & many other things but can also be used with candles etc

COLOR MAGICK

🕯White & Blue - cleansing, healing, purification, innocence

🕯Purple - increased power, strength, protective, the mind, wisdom, spirit

🕯Red - increased energy, protective, offensive attacks

🕯Black - energy removal, protection, reversals, hex breaking

It’s important when practicing candle magick to practice fire safety.

Place all glass & tin candles on plates, pans, aluminum foil or fire safe surfaces to prevent damage, burn marks or wax on surfaces, like wood and linoleum.

Never leave candles unattended for long periods of time or overnight without attendance, remove nearby flammable hazards, hanging debris + keep a wick & fire extinguisher on standby.

⚔️ - PROTECTION, UNCROSSING & CURSE FREEZING TIPS

- Salt & Lemongrass, on a black candle can assist with uncrossing and cleansing yourself from negativity or hexes

- Cayenne, Angelica & Brick Dust on a black candle can create a decent protection spell.

- Cayenne, Rosemary, Mint & Angelica Root on a blue candle can assist with protected healing, quick recovery and rejuvenation especially when one is under attack, or restoring their energy.

- Holy Water, King Solomon Root & Red Brick Dust Boiled and prayed over, bottled & frozen in the refrigerator can freeze or slow down the effects of a hex or curse, without alerting the magician, it’s also an effective ward against curses and hexes.

- Bathing in Solomon Root, Rosemary & Mint regularly assists with good spiritual hygiene cultivating a protected aura and promoting spiritual health & wisdom, cleansing out negativity or gunk, purifying and stabilizing your soul.

- Solomon Root, Mint & Rosemary on a purple candle, cleanse and protect your mind from chaos psychosis & confusion, an give you protected mental clarity and inner stability. This is handy for curses, jinxes that are designed to make you go crazy.

- Four Red Bricks, with Psalms 91:3-4 written in sharpie, washed in holy water, placed in the four corners of your property creates a spiritual hedge of protection for you & your home against violence, evil and chaos.

- Rosemary Plants Potted are natural spiritual wards of protection, stability and purification and are great herbal ally, to have planted in your garden or keep in your home. You can tag lock these plant to alert you of any curses or hexes, sent your way & they will naturally filter and cleanse the energy of your space.

- A mirror washed in holy water & smoked cleansed with solomon root, angelica, mint and rosemary, can be commanded to be spiritually locked & sealed with Psalms 147: 13.

⚔️⚔️⚔️

Hopefully this speedy guide, has been ultra helpful for y’all. This is just a quick guide to wet your whistle and provide a good foundation of protective magical knowledge. As you grow in experience and power, your skill set and knowledge, about protective magic will grow even more.

Be smart. Be strategic. Don’t be a dumbass

xxx

Lyonessa Hart.

[stareyedmoonchildworks]

Late Night Ideas: Daminette Soulmate AU II

Disclaimer: this is in no way related to my other soulmate au.

Basically, everyone is given the first initial of their soulmates' name on their wrist at the age of 12, but only upon touching your soulmate do you get to see their full name.

Think about it.

The boys are doing some recon in Paris, especially after seeing a video sent to the JL, which wasn't taken very seriously. (Side eyeing you Booster Gold.)

Anyways, they explore the city during the day, acting like tourist asking locals for their stories, and even getting some background on LB and CN. All the while, they are unknowingly passing Marinette in each place they go to.

It's pure coincidence, really. Like first time was when they pretended to be interested in getting Damian enrolled in Collège Françoise Dupont. Dick got hungry, and Tim wanted coffee, so naturally, they stopped by Marinette's family's bakery. Dick orders as Marinette's leaving, never really making contact with any of them.

Then, as they are taking a tour of the school and asking questions. Marinette is there hanging out with Adrien, who she's cool with by now. They have more of a best friend/sibling dynamic now.

Then tye next is out an about like them questioning the pigeon guy and Marinette had been their for a while now sketching away. The next a the Louvre and she's hanging out with Alix or something. So on and so forth.

You know the always within proximity but never getting the chance to meet kind thing. That is until Marinette trips or something, and her art supplies falls and it's the Wayne boys help her pick them.

Damian is holding out a few pencils for her. She's not really paying attention and embarrassed over the ordeal. She's just graving and going. Just when you think their hands are going to meet and lock eyes; feeling that click sand seeing each other's name slowly reveal itself, it doesn't happen.

She grabs the ends of the pencils and hurriedly shouts a thanks to the boys as she was in a hurry to get somewhere. Nobody thinks much of it.

Then, later that evening, there's an akuma attack. The boys were out prior to doing some discrete patrol hoping to catch a glimpse of the heros and maybe do get their statements only to be caught in the middle of it.

There is some tension between Ladybuy and Rodin, especially when they had to make a strategic retreat together with the rest. Dick was able to have them set it aside for after they defeated the akuma.

Fun times people. Fun times.

The akuma is defeated. Lucky chatm is cast, things are talked over, negotiations are made, and hand shakes are shared.

Now, because of miraculous magic, it kinda buffs the whole dramatic soylmate meeting scene, but it doesn't stop the name from forming.

When they return to their place of living and get out of costume; both Damian and Marinette are very surprised to see each other's name delicately scribed onto their wrist.

That's all I got, but if anyone wants to run with the idea, then be more than welcome to. Just be sure to give credit.

[haakaan00502]

Ghost squints his eyes as the chopper flies off, sending dust into the air. He stands, his body present but his mind still gone, thinking about the recent operation. He walks mindlessly, doing a quick mind map of the intel they gathered just from their recon mission.

He looks forward and sees a Sergeant with a hair ruffled, sand everywhere as if the man has tussled on the sand. He brings himself around with pride and an air of confidence, talking with peers after a successful mission. They just started working together no longer than 3 months ago.

Their eyes meet and for a while, Ghost swears he wants to look away, Soap’s smile widens, his heels turning towards Ghost.

“Aye L.T., up top?” Soap says energetically, bringing his hand up for a five.

Ghost stares, not really knowing what to do. His arm moves but he instinctively stops it in place.

“No? Ah well,” Soap chuckles, giving Ghost a quick tap on the shoulder before walking towards camp.

“Need a shower, sand is a bitch and a half,” he walks, waving Ghost a quick goodbye.

Soap trots forward, the desert heat casting a mirage, distorting the horizon. Though only one warmth stands out under the sun’s beams. Ghost stares right on his shoulder, the brief contact left him stunned. Derailing Ghost’s train of thought, only focused on what a simple touch made him feel, a simple touch that for once didn’t cause him to recoil.

Soap left him with a thought.

‘Don’t leave him hanging next time.’

[himasgod]

Eula x Reader

(Not angst, for once and for all! It's her birthday so I wanted to dedicate a one-shot to my beautiful girl. I was also hesitant about writing a eula x fem! reader smut for her birthday, but I'll see if I write it or not. Enjoy! 0.7k words)

Where Eula relaxes with you after a week of missions

The cool wind of Mondstadt caressed your face as you walked down the dirt roads that led you to the outskirts of the city. You had received an unexpected letter from Eula. Her elegant handwriting invited you to one of the beaches where she used to spend time with her recon team. An unofficial date, perhaps, but you were surprised that she had made the effort to contact you after her long weeks away.

Eula was as unpredictable as a storm, you knew that well, but beneath her facade of ice and arrogance there was something that attracted you irremediably, a force that always seemed to be in conflict with itself. She was proud, stubborn, and above all… misunderstood. Being a Lawrence, someone whose history was tied to Mondstadt’s dark past, had condemned her to a life of solitude and scornful glances, and although she always insisted on her search for “revenge,” you knew that what she really wanted was to find her place.

You reached the shore where the waves gently crashed against the rocks. Eula was there, her back to you, contemplating the horizon. Her silhouette looked like a picture of serenity frozen in time, but you knew that, as always, her mind was at war with itself.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she said without turning around, her voice loaded with that mix of coldness and haughtiness that seemed to be her usual way of starting a conversation.

“And letting you take revenge on me for ignoring you, do you really think I would give you that satisfaction?” you answered with a soft smile, searching her gaze.

Finally, Eula turned to you, her ice-blue eyes watching you carefully. She always seemed to be measuring every word, every gesture.

“I don’t joke about revenge,” she replied, her expression serious but with a small spark of irony. “But… I’m also glad you’re here.”

That last comment took you by surprise. Eula wasn’t usually direct with her feelings, always hiding them behind her sharp words and distant attitude. Seeing her break, even if just a little, that barrier made you feel closer to her than ever.

You sat next to her on the sand, letting the sound of the waves fill the silence that was created between the two of you. It was a pleasant stillness, not uncomfortable. For a while, neither of you said anything. It was as if you both needed that respite after so much time separated by Eula’s missions, by her life always full of responsibilities and struggles.

“How was the mission?” you asked finally, wanting to break the ice.

“Successful, as always,” she answered, her tone cutting, but you noticed the slight satisfaction in her voice. “But it was… exhausting. Sometimes, the true enemy isn’t the Abyss Order or monsters, but the shadows of the past.”

You knew Eula was talking about her last name, about the burden of being a Lawrence in Mondstadt. You’d seen it before, how even after saving lives and protecting the city, people still looked at her with distrust. It was never enough, it never would be.

“You are more than your last name, Eula,” you said softly, moving a little closer. “And you know it.”

She sighed, a dry laugh escaping her lips. “And what am I then? A knight who constantly seeks revenge? A warrior who barely fits in her own home?”

“You are all that, and so much more,” you said firmly. “You are strong, loyal, and though you deny it, you are kind. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

For a moment, Eula looked at you with an expression she rarely showed. Vulnerability. It was as if, only with you, she could afford to let her guard down. Without warning, you reached out her hand, and for a second, you thought she was going to quickly push it away, but she didn’t. Her fingers brushed against yours, a light touch but full of meaning.

“Maybe… only with you I don’t have to keep up appearances,” she murmured, her words a barely audible whisper over the sound of the sea.

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew that small gesture, those few words, were more than enough. In her own unique, twisted way, Eula was letting you into her world, a world where vengeance was just a mask and loneliness was a constant struggle.

You leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder. “You’re not alone, Eula. Not anymore.”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t push you away either.

The waves continued to crash softly, like a quiet melody marking the end of an internal battle.

You and Eula had finally found a moment of peace amidst the ever-changing tides of your life.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On

cw: gender identity issues, overall identity issues

Tim brush his hand idly through his damp hair as he stepped out of the shower.

It had gotten long.

He hadn’t planned to grow it out, it just sort of happened. He’d gotten it cut last summer before he’s started his sophomore year of college. The start of the semester had bled into midterms. Midterms had proceeded papers and projects. Projects had become final presentations and exams. Classes ended abruptly into a too short winter break of Tim visiting Cass and her team then dragging her home for Christmas. The new year had been filled with Titans and teammates and fireworks.

He might cut it when it started getting too muggy. Spring had barely broken into the city. It was warm enough not to need heavy coat but cool enough TIm could still wear his favorite leather jacket he’d stolen from Jason around. It was a good time of the year.

It really had gotten long.

As long as the wig Tim wore when he became Caroline. He tugged at the ends of the hair where, if he tilted his head down to look up under his lashes, the black strands just brushed the top of his shoulders.

Tim hadn’t been Caroline Hill in a long time now.

Or Alvin Draper.

Or Timothy Drake— CEO to be.

He hadn’t been anyone, really. Instead he had been struggling to find out who Tim Wayne was beyond the expectations of dead parents, missions hidden behind masks, and under the weight everyone else’s needs. He still really didn’t know.

It felt more like a game of finding out what he wasn’t than falling into what he was. Or what he liked to be.

He could be a ruthless businessman, but that was Timothy Drake, wasn’t it? That was his father’s Jack’s legacy and Janet’s cold, confident smile. He didn’t like being that.

He didn’t like being them.

He could be whatever the mission needed. He could do recon, hacking, infiltration, fighting— Replacement, like Jason said. The word didn’t have the same sting that it used to. Replacement. It was almost a word of respect now. It had taken a lot of talking (and a lot of alcohol) for Jason and Tim to get somewhere good, but they both got it now. Red Robin was whoever the team needed.

He was tired of having to fill in cracks.

He beyond tired of just existing for everyone else’s needs.

The weight of that had nearly broken him.

Had broken him.

Tim watched the black strands of hair slip over the spider web of scars on his left hand.

Bruce had assured him that there would always be a place with the Bats if Tim still wanted it. Tim refused just to fill in the space that was left for him anymore. It took a lot of sessions with his Justice League approved therapist for Tim to even get to that line in the sand, but he understood how important it was now.

He had to stop being the Replacement.

The problem is, he didn’t always think he was Tim Wayne, even the pieces that he was slowly learning.

Tim dug around under his sink, coming up with the purple case he’d stolen from Steph to keep Caroline’s things in. The robin red lipstick was on the top. Slowly he uncapped it and smeared it almost recklessly across his lips.

Tim no longer stared back out from the mirror.

Maybe Caroline deserved a night out.

It had been a long time, after all.

---

AN: Look, look, I'm not officially starting this but I had the idea for this scene in my head and had to get it down. (Now I should sleep cause it's past 2 in the morning.)

Anyways, I love me a gnc Tim.

[yeorin08]

Homies forever?

Did your homie come up to you one day all excited with an illegal book about the outside world, and your homie didn't give a fuck about government and law. Then your eyes saw the shine in those obviously gorgeous soul awakening blue eyes. Hearing him talk about the outside world with excitement made you want to earn something you never thought you needed.and from then on ,you shared dreams.

You protect your homie from bullies,you take care of him, you want to be with him forever and explore the outside world with your homie.

Your homie gave you a purpose in life which you want to achieve,you want to destroy all the danger beyond the wall just so you can make your dream come true.

You join the millitary with your homie and together you graduate, u hold hands, probably have gotten the most intimate with your homie than any girl that people have started creating rumours about your closeness with homie.

You and your homie want to join the recon corps,

when the titan was picking up your homie to eat him , even in half unconscious State, missing a leg, and hurt pretty bad, you were ready to save him, even if it meant to give up your life.

You were ready to give up your life and saved your homie but went down the drain instead.

In the pit of the Titan you realised you haven't given up on your dream, dreams with homie, that enraged you so much you turned into a titan

you recognised your homie hand while being unconscious,and interwined his hand back

A few hours later your homie saves your life again .

Your homie is the only one who could wake up the sleeping Beauty inside the Titan and bring you back to reality

Your homie wakes you by reminding you the dreams you guys shared.

"I thought you have forgotten it long ago, but... you remembered"

And throughout your homie was with you, he got you out of the Titans nape after you blocked the hole in the wall of rose.

and later you and your homie are in recon crops but with new problems.

Your homie's speech during female titan arc motivated you so much that you were ready to abandon your humanity to capture Annie any how.

Seasons later your homie got molested by some old pervert just for the sake of plan where you and historia would be safe.

He even killed a few people to get you back from rod reiss.

Then the mission to retake wall Maria came;

Your homie saw your shaking hand and decided to help, motivated you and with his pretty face, blue eyes and beautiful hair ,you calmed down.

You tell him how you were motivated by the shine in his eyes when they were 8-9 years old.

once again your homie wakes your sleeping Beauty ass up by reminding you of dreams, after you got kicked by betholt.

Your homie entrusts you with his dreams for you to complete it "witness the ocean for me?"

Seeing your homie's Crisp body made you devastated, from each corner , and both physically and mentally.

You see your homie struggling to breath and now with new hope you are screaming for him to continue breathing.

You fought your captain to bring back your homie.

"He's the one who's going to save humanity"

With your cries and please , the serum is given to your homie and your homie lives.

You run to hug your homie when he wakes up . A few Tears of relief washes over your eyes.

You offer you jacket to ur half naked (hot waisted) homie.

One year later you guys are finally at the sea (which didn't go as planned)

You are ready to give up everything so your homie can live long and free. You entrust your everything on your homie and go for genocide.

You guys travel years in path , just you and your homie , witnessing all the beauty the world could offer and looking at your homie's happiness have your chest swelling with love , affection and maybe pride.

You see the flames of water

Land of ice

Field of sands

And huge lakes of salty water

After that your homie punches you for saying hurtful things to your adopted sister.

Then you guys make ou-

Then you guys say everything you have wanted to say to each other cause it is "now or never " moment. You guys talk with no filter, no nothing just you and your homie talking with thick ass sensual tention background music.

Your homie tell you how he also shared the blame for your crime , after all he was the one who showed you the book about the outside world, he shares the equal shoulder for the sins.

and you promise each other to meet in hell and be together forever!!

Fuck everything and tel me

Is HE STiLL YoUr HOMie??!!