#Strafe Man

[stardestroyer81]

In the tags of my previous post, I mentioned that the prime reason behind Hydro Man's redesign was so that I could have a portrait drawn of him for the finalized version of Mega Man Ultimate's stage select, and seeing as I haven't shown its updated version since 2020... here are the eight robot masters of the Synth Legion in all their glory! 💙🏳️‍⚧️✨

(Psssst! You can find individual pins of every Synth Legion Number's portrait as well as a full stage select shirt over on my RedBubble store!)

[dynmghts]

what a good day to remember that even though it was a part of the rejected dynamy comic, katsuki just wants to be appreciated with, i quote, all the dreadnought love (someone) has.

brace yourself a second, i'm gonna talk nerdy history talk.

if you don't know: a dreadnought is a battleship classification from the beginning of the 20th century, which was used as the main naval battleship throughout wwi. the namesake comes from the first of its kind, the british navy's hms dreadnought!

but in japanese kanji, it specifies "super-dreadnought". katsuki, first of all, knows his historical classifications. but second, a super-dreadnought is a very loose term coined for ships developed which "outclassed" a dreadnought - starting with the british orion class battleships, circa 1914. they outclassed typical dreadnoughts in size and firepower (and by that i mean their guns were 13.5 inch, compared to 12 inch).

extending on that idea of "super-dreadnought", though: japan had multiple ships that fell under this classification. the main ones i want to mention are the nagato and yamato-class battleships, super-dreadnoughts, which were some of the most powerful ships in the world for a very long time. (the nagato-class was completed post-wwi, the yamato-class was completed pre-wwii.) their firepower completely outshone any predecessors; remember, the first super-dreadnoughts had 13.5 inch guns. WELL. the nagato-class had 16.1 inch guns, while the yamato-class had 18.1 inch guns, to compare.

"so cam what the FUCK are you getting at," you may ask. i swear i have a point here!

katsuki is saying that if you're going to love him, it should be with the entire firepower of a super-dreadnought battleship. and knowing katsuki, he's not just saying a single measly pre-wwi dreadnought battleship; remember, he said super-dreadnought in kanji. if we indulge in my headcanon that he's the BIGGEST history buff, he's likely alluding to the yamato-class battleship.

you know, the battleship with approximately nine naval artillery guns, twelve dual-purpose turrets, twelve anti-aircraft guns, twenty-seven automatic anti-aircraft cannons, and four anti-aircraft heavy machine guns, on top of aircraft launch capabilities........

so anyway tl:dr love is war and he demands it as such.

[ahalliance]

me on my delulu arc hoping tubbo and étoiles will be teamed for purgatory 2

[scr11bles]

Hi! Could I have a medic x fem! Reader Italian espresso with a side of chocolate macaron and chocolate cake?

order up for anon! wanna order something for yourself? here's the menu!

- italian espresso: "Try to stay quiet, understand?" + chocolate cake: forced proximity + chocolate macaroon: rough sex

(MDNI UNDER THE CUT!)

cw: technically cnc (reader wants it but theres no explicit permission given), a little bloodplay but its barely there so??, unprotected sex

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Honestly, you thought Medic hated you. Really, most of the team did when you first showed up, mainly because you were a new face (and also a woman but you reprimanded them swiftly and proved yourself overtime), but Medic always seemed to be the one that would ignore you the most. Even Spy treated you like you existed, which is saying a lot in reference to the Frenchman and his closed off put together personality.

Medic ignored you so much that you haven't even gotten your surgery to have the ability to be Übercharged. Which, in retrospective makes the situation worse for him and you. Ultimately more him than you, since without the ability to Übercharge, you were a prime target for the other duplicate team, constantly being the main focus of their ire. With this, Medic had to follow you around more, pushing himself away from the group and heal you with his medigun before walking away with a scoff and grumbling under his breath.

That particular incident was even happening now, Medic having to strafe away from the group and running behind you to heal you as you outran and skillfully shot at the Blue Scout that wouldn't leave you the fuck alone. Though just as you turn the corner with medic in tow, the enemy Heavy and his own Medic appear, causing you to skid to a stop and turn around, your shoulder crashing into Medic's, making you to trip and catch yourself before running in the opposite direction, barely avoiding the rain of bullets that whir from the Blue Heavy's gun. Running on pure adrenaline and the fear of feeling the pain of being killed (You bitched about that for weeks when you began- how do these people have the ability to literally undo death, but not be able to prevent the pain that comes from it?).

You feverishly turn another corner, entering one of the spacious rooms of the Teufort location and scrambling towards one of the nearby doors, opening it wide and grabbing onto Medic's arm to pull him through with you. Sure, the man probably hated your guts and didn't give two shits about how you ended up, but that doesn't mean you would leave him behind, he is your teammate after all.

Though when you expect to run into a different room, you slam into the wall of... A closet? Fuck. Medic crashes in after you, his medigun clattering to the floor as the door is shut behind the two of you. The closet is smaller than it appears to be, forcing you to squirm against the doctor as your heart pounds in your chest from the combination of fear and adrenaline, making your chest rise and fall quickly, your lungs screaming for the air that was stripped from you during the chase. All of the sudden you feel your heart drop as Medic's large hand wraps around your mouth, silencing your frantic breathing. The smell of latex and blood making your head feel fuzzy.

"Try to stay quiet, understand der Schatz?"

His voice is silken but with a twist, the tone he uses holding a sort of rumbling growl in its depths. You feel Medic's other hand snake around your waist, tugging you towards him to press your back against his chest, and you can feel that he too is panting, his warm breaths ghosting against the back of your ear. You turn your head to the side slightly, making eye contact with him and letting your expression get away from you as your eyes go wide from the shock of him being so close and willingly touching you. The way your eyes must've been bugging out of your head makes Medic smirk down at you, the man chuckling darkly. It isn't the first time you've heard the sound, but when he's so close you feel the rumble and baritone of the sound, causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

Footsteps pound against the flooring outside the door to the closet and you swear you feel Medic pull you closer to him, his hand still staying pressed against your mouth to keep you quiet. Your eyes stay wide as you hear the enemy Medic and Heavy talk, praying to whatever god that they wouldn't find you and your own Medic and shoot the two of you dead. As the footsteps of the enemy fades, you imagined crying from the relief. Thinking that Medic would let go, you try to move forward and reach for the doorhandle until you feel Medic tighten his grip on you and keep you in place, making you cinch your eyebrows together and crane your neck to look up at him behind you.

"We should wait. They could be lingering..."

He murmurs against the shell of your ear, immediately feeling your face burn from the close proximity. You suppose he was right, and this position didn't really hurt, in fact- you really liked this position. Medics hand splays across your stomach, his gloved fingers practically teasing the edge of the shirt of your uniform, threatening to slip the cool latex under the fabric and tease your skin. You in turn arch you back into him, the chill of his gloves making you squirm, causing Medic to tighten his hold on you even more.

"Careful Schatz, you're not trying to provoke me, are you?"

He teases, sliding his gloved hand under your shirt and letting his fingers roam across your stomach, slowly inching his fingers up to your ribs and feeling him shudder as he touches the bottom of your ribcage. His deft fingers prodded at your ribs before sliding his hand up further and cupping your breast through your bra, giving the sensitive mound of flesh a rough squeeze that elicits a hiss from you. Once again, Medic chuckles against your ear, lowering his face to nuzzle the side of you neck before biting onto the curve where you neck meets your shoulder, sinking his teeth deep into your skin and pulling away when you whimper to lick at the blood that pools at the marks.

You murmur his name, and you feel the twitch in his pants start to grow behind you, his hand around your breast tightening once more for a rough squeeze before trailing back down to your pants, sliding his gloved fingers beneath the fabric and pushing aside your panties before swiping a finger across your slickening folds. The wet sounds that echo off the closet walls make you whine, embarrassment and pleasure flooding through your veins at the sound of your arousal.

"Don't be shy Liebe, I've wanted this too."

Medic growls against the skin of your throat, his gloved fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit while relishing in the small noises that escape you and the quivers of your body. You swallow shakily, letting a particularly large moan tumble past your lips when Medic pushes two fingers into the depths of your wet heat, the texture of his gloves and thickness of his fingers making your brain short circuit. He curls his fingers deep inside you and keeps his thumb on your clit, the stimulation making your knees grow weak and pathetic whines exude from your throat. At a particular brush against your sweet spot, a loud moan escapes past your lips. Medic curves his fingers deeper into you, thrust his fingers knuckle deep into you and eliciting a louder moan from your lips. When you part your lips to make more noise, Medics hand around your jaw shifts, the doctor forcefully shoving his fingers into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue.

"Ich hätte nicht erwartet, dass du so laut bist."

He murmurs into your ear, withdrawing his fingers from your cunt and grinning wickedly when you whine from the loss of stimulation. Bastard. Though your whining comes to an end when you feel him yank down your pants and undoing his just as swiftly, shuddering as you feel his cock brush against your skin. Medic shoves his fingers deeper into your mouth, causing you to gag on the latex of his gloves while he pushes your head back against his shoulder. The doctor loops his other arm under your knee, forcing your thigh to press against your chest to give him easy access to your weeping core. He guides his cock to align with you dripping cunt, rubbing himself through your folds to create a makeshift lube before plunging deep into you, ignoring the gagged moan that drips from your lips at the burn and stretch of him within you.

Medic doesn't let you adjust, needlessly and roughly thrusting up into you and letting out faint pleasurable grunts while pressing down harder on your tongue with his fingers, not caring that some of the blood from his gloves is smearing onto your lips and your tongue, the copperish-iron taste making you gag further. Your body convulses beneath the doctor as he doesn't relent in his pace, the piston of his hips making you hiccup and stutter over your already barely formed words. Medic bites down on your neck again, sucking what you know is going to be a deep hickey later into your skin. At the sound of your muffled moans, Medic chuckles his usual dark chuckle into the skin of your throat, his grunts morphing into deep moans.

"So tight Schatz, I should've done this sooner."

The man grunts, a piece of his usually slicked back hair falling from its hold and brushing against the lens of his glasses. His thrusts start to stutter, turning his body and pushing you up against the wall of the closet to pound into you harder without abandon. The new pace and angle makes you weak in the knees, bracing yourself up against the wall as you moan and whimper while drooling over his fingers. Through the flutter of your walls, he knows your close, shifting his hold under your knee to position his fingers perfectly over your clit, rubbing harsh circles onto the sensitive bundle of nerves.

With the stimulation you feel the heated band growing in your belly snap, your hold against the wall becoming weak as you cum and squeeze him like a vice, the pressure pushing him over the edge too, making him paint the inside of your cunt with all he has. Medic thrusts harshly a few more times while nipping at you neck as the two of you come down from your highs.

Medic pulls out of you with a strangled grunt, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and patting your cheek with a small chuckle as he helps you back into your pants, the sentiment coming off as odd but endearing all the same.

"You failed!"

Fuck. The Administrators voice rings out through the whole area of Teufort, signalling your loss against your mirror team. You turn to Medic and grimace, the two do you are definitely getting interrogated on where you were instead of helping. Surely you can come up with something convincing, right?

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

first request!!! i hope i did medic justice he was my og crush when my brother introduced me to tf2

[uhohgottashreep]

hermits (mostly etho) being in awe of slash terrified of gem, an inexhaustive compilation:

etho: she's gonna drop you like a sack of bricks, ren.

etho: she's brutal, man! she's brutal, okay?

gem: i actually just have a dungeon i'm trying to decorate / xisuma, giggling madly: that's awesome.

etho: not so easy, is it, doc?!

etho: she's ready for anybody.

xisuma: one hit, that's all i got [on gem]?! the first hit?!

doc: she's juggling me like an absolute boss--!

(special shout out to 1. xisuma asking her about her strafing patterns and nodding along with great interest + 2. doc putting his netherite back on and wailing that it's "the only way to beat her!" ｏ(*≧∇≦)ﾉ)

[weirdchristmas]

"Allerhand hoert man von dire - das kostet strafe -- komm' zu mir!" "Gruss vom Krampusine!"

[valiantwarriorsquadroncomic]

MY VWS PROJECT IS RUNNING

“The VALIANT WARRIOR SQUADRON is a serialized collection of short stories following an American soldier named Joseph Baker, in an alternate earth, year 2040. After developing psychic powers from a bio-terrorist weapons misfire, Joseph is inducted into VWS-1 special forces to fight a neo-nazi organization that has caused death and suffering for countless people, including Joseph himself. Not only fighting for right over wrong, and for personal revenge, Joseph fights to preserve a fleeting sense of normalcy in an increasingly tumultuous and unsure world. The Valiant Warrior Squadron explores the importance of putting aside personal differences to create a united front against fascism, while also taking inspiration from anime and video games such as the works of Hideo Kojima and Koichi Ohata. If you are looking for an adult-geared story about war and fascism with a diverse cast of heroes (including multiple large, bulky monster women!) The Valiant Warrior Squadron might be for you!

you can read it on tumblr  https://valiantwarriorsquadroncomic.tumblr.com/

and on wordpress!  https://valiantwarriorsquadron.wordpress.com/

i’m also active on twitter!  https://twitter.com/Towerofdoubt

thanks for reading, hope you enjoy my stories!

ACKNOWLEDGMENT AND THANKS

Editor for missions 1-2: Tish doolin https://heysawbones.tumblr.com/

Story Consultant: Gabriela Carolina

LINKS TO EACH STORY!

[saphronethaleph]

Faster Falcon Finding

“Okay, what’s wrong now?” Finn asked, coming down from the dorsal turret. “We did jump to lightspeed, right?”

“We jumped to lightspeed, then the motivator on this piece of garbage failed!” Rey replied, already levering up one of the floorboards with her staff. “That was the only thing that wasn’t giving alerts!”

She glanced up at Poe, who’d arrived from the cockpit. “Not that our pilot was helping much.”

“Hey, cut me some slack!” Poe replied, defensively. “I’m an ace fighter pilot not freighter pilot! And I didn’t want to take this ship anyway!”

“It’s not like we had much choice,” Finn pointed out. “That quadjumper got blown to pieces! We were being strafed! We’ve got to get to the Resistance, right?”

“Yeah, but – you guys seriously don’t know whose ship this is?” Poe asked. “I asked before but I think the question got lost!”

“Like we are?” Rey asked, then put a hydrospanner between her teeth while she adjusted something with a vibro wrench. “Hold on… who does this? This thing’s got a bypass on it to feed pseudovelocity compensation from the secondary generator – the one that blew up halfway through the fight!”

She sighed. “And it’s not on any of the manuals, either.”

“I’m not really surprised,” Poe said, then something began beeping.

“What’s that?” Finn asked. “That doesn’t sound like a good beep. That sounds like a very bad beep!”

“Proximity alarm, I think,” Poe replied, turning to run back to the cockpit. “That or the reactor’s about to fail, but since the reactors are in standby right now… it’d have to be-”

He yelped.

“Guys!”

“What?” Rey replied, head poking up from the underfloor compartment.

“You’re going to want to see this!”

By the time Rey reached the cockpit, several seconds after Finn, their ship was already most of the way inside the cargo bay of a much bigger bulk freighter.

“That’s not good,” Fin summarized. “Do you think – the First Order? Have they found us?”

“Maybe,” Poe muttered. “If they have, why aren’t they using a Star Destroyer?”

“Do they have enough to go around?” Rey asked.

“Who cares, we need to get out of this mess!” Finn said. “Tractor beam, right? Can we shoot it out?”

“Not likely,” Poe replied. “Okay – we need to hide under the floor plates. Rey, how soon can you get that hyperdrive motivator fixed?”

“If I knew that I’d already have it fixed!” Rey shot back. “Um – I’ll see how quickly I can do it?”

“Make it quick,” Finn suggested.

BB-8 whistled something.

“Yeah, take BB, he can help,” Poe agreed. “Finn, you and me should hide in the other compartment.”

It was cramped in the other compartment, but not that cramped, and Finn felt around to make sure he knew the space.

“It’s like these were built to hide stuff in,” he said.

“Of course they were, do you know whose ship this is?” Poe replied, in a whisper.

“I clearly don’t,” Finn countered.

Something went clang, then two sets of feet walked up the ramp.

Stopped.

“If you’re in the underfloor compartments, you can come out now, nice and slow,” a voice told them. “My friend and I have you covered, so don’t get any funny ideas.”

Finn glanced at Poe. “Got any funny ideas?” he whispered.

“I’ve got a blaster, but that’s it,” Poe told him, quietly.

Then a hand lifted the compartment, and Finn put his hands up as a sixtyish human man covered him with a blaster.

Poe stared.

“...General Solo!?” he said, astonished. “How did you-”

“I thought General Solo was a girl!” Finn objected.

“There’s two, they got married,” Poe said. “This is Han Solo, not Leia Organa Solo. I, uh… so I can explain-”

“General Solo?” Rey asked, then banged her head on the roof of the compartment. “Ow!”

She shoved the roof of the engineering space open, and stared at the wookiee pointing a bowcaster at her. “And you – you must be Chewbacca!”

Chewbacca made a pleased noise.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m recognizable too,” Han muttered. “So you stole my ship?”

“We didn’t have much choice,” Rey said. “We were being shot by the First Order!”

“Imagine how I felt!” Han replied. “I got called in to do a favour for my wife by helping answer the distress call of that kid over there, Poe Dameron, right?”

Poe nodded, a bit jerkily.

“I knew he was on this dustball Jakku, not much else,” Han went on. “So Chewie and I parked our ship – this ship – to ask the locals about anything that had been happening, and then the First Order starts shooting at us and I turned around and our ship was taking off without us!”

“...oops,” Rey said, quietly. “Sorry?”

“We didn’t recognize it,” Finn volunteered.

“I did, but I got outvoted and it was a bit hectic,” Poe finished.

“I also want to have a word with your engineer,” Rey said. “Who has a failing inertial compensator?”

Chewbacca suggested something.

“If that compensator had failed I certainly wouldn’t have been able to do that!” Rey objected. “...I don’t think I could anyway, is that possible?”

“How did you catch up to us, then?” Poe asked.

“That’s the ship we’re on,” Han explained. “I paid some smugglers way too much to charter their freighter-”

“Hey, Solo!” a trandoshan called, from the cargo ramp. “You done yet? We need to get moving!”

“Give me a minute!” Han shouted back. “Eesh, with how much I paid you’d think they’d be less rude.”

There was a clunk, and the whole freighter shook slightly.

“What was that?” Rey asked.

The trandoshan outside shouted something harsh in another language, and Han frowned.

“That sounds important, we’d better go and see,” he said.

By the time they were outside, the situation had not improved.

Two more freighters had shown up and docked with the one Han had chartered, and both had disgorged heavily armed groups, and the trandoshan smuggler group had armed up to find out what was going on.

“Hey, Rakas!” the first pirate group said. “Where are our rathtars?”

“Rathtars?” Rey repeated. “What are those?”

“They’re not hauling rathtars on this thing, are they?” Finn asked, extremely worried.

“I didn’t ask,” Han admitted.

“Rathtars are balls of teeth, tentacles and attitude,” Finn summarized. “You don’t want to deal with them!”

“We’ve got them, we’ve got them,” the trandoshan leader said. “Just let us get our passengers out of the cargo hold and we’ll begin the process of transferring them safely. You don’t want to cut corners with rathtars.”

“You were supposed to be delivering them already!” the pirate snapped, then the other group turned up and bristled. Blasters got pointed in just about every direction, and Poe frowned.

“This doesn’t look good,” he muttered. “What are those guys doing here, then, if the other group are here for the rathtars?”

“That’s Solo’s ship!” the aqualish in charge of the third group said. “I was here for the bounty on you, Rakas, but Solo’s bounty is much higher!”

“How much higher?” the trandoshan asked, sounding interested.

“Uh oh,” Rey said.

BB-8 whistled, and all the pirates turned to look.

“...isn’t that the BB unit the First Order is after?” one of the pirates asked. “The one where they’re offering enough to buy all of us a ship?”

“Run,” Han advised.

Rey and Poe made it into the Falcon, but a barrage of laserfire cut the others off from the ship, and Han glanced at Finn as they hid behind some barrels.

“Please tell me you’ve got a com frequency for them!” he said.

“Here,” Finn replied, handing his comlink straight to Han.

“Okay, listen!” Han said. “Underneath the back right seat in the cockpit there’s a control to deploy a miniature blaster turret. Use that to give us some cover!”

The Falcon deployed its miniature turret a moment later, opening fire, and Han glanced around as Chewbacca used his bowcaster to nail one of the trandoshans to a wall.

“We need to shut off the tractor beam before we go anywhere,” he said. “Story of my life… okay, kid, how good are you with freighter control systems?”

“...I don’t like this question,” Finn admitted.

“You’ll like the plan even less,” Han told him, glancing over his shoulder at one of the other corridors leading off the hangar bay. “We need to cause chaos. They’re keeping the rathtars somewhere, so…”

“You make terrible business decisions!” Finn accused.

“I know, I know!” Han replied. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“When a plan is this bad, no plan is better than this plan!” Finn complained.

[sideroachblog]

Kinktober Day 11: Aphrodisiacs! I'm a little behind 😅

Thank you @nonsenseafterdark for the prompt list!

Trans!Roach/König

Words: 961

NSFW under the cut. No TWs.

Anatomy Words Used: Pussy, Clit, T-dick, Hole, Entrance, Lips

~~~

Roach ducked as the hulking enemy in front of him threw a punch. Motherfucker was nearing seven feet tall and wide to match, wearing some creepy t-shirt over his head with eye holes cut out. With nearly a foot height difference Roach had to kite the man’s attacks perfectly or get grabbed and thrown to the ground. He strafed right as the guy tried to tackle him, then to the left to avoid his follow-up attempt and create some space between them in the tight warehouse.

Unfortunately, the enemy grabbed Roach’s wrist and yanked him back. Being so much stronger he whipped Roach around into a stack of crates as if the Sergeant weigh nothing. There was a crack! as wood splintered around Roach as he stumbled right through them onto the floor. The contents vaporized in a fine pink powder.

Roach recollected his bearings. Remembering where he was, he braced for impact—one that never came.

His assailant sneezed.

The Sergeant reached for his holstered gun before realizing the powder had a funny smell that tickled his nose and spread warmth across his cheeks. Considering his luck it was probably Agent Orange: The Squeakuel.

Something felt odd. Distracting. The other man must’ve felt it too, since the violence stopped dead in its tracks. That warmth filled his lungs, made his heart skip a beat and accelerate, parted his lips with a needy sigh. But what did he need?

His hands began to shake. A shiver ran down his spine. The feeling of clothes on his skin was suddenly too much; fabric dragging over sensitive flesh drew a moan from his throat. He pressed his legs together only to feel wetness squish between his thighs.

What the fuck?

He looked up at the enemy towering over him like a draft horse and couldn’t help but wonder if he had a cock to match. It seems the feeling was mutual, as the man fell to his knees and crawled on top of him. Suddenly his mouth was stuffed with a stranger’s tongue, a gloved hand at his throat pinning him in place.

“Jesus Christ,” Roach whispered. Fingers slipped under the chain to his ID discs, ripping them off before he could stop it. “Hey!”

“Sergeant Sanderson, huh?” The man asked with some unplaceable accent.

Roach yelped in surprise as a knee rammed between his legs, expecting a penis based on its angle of approach. Finding different machinery, the man pulled back, narrowed his eyes in what might’ve been a devilish smile under his mask, then ducked down to rip off Roach’s fatigues.

He groaned at the sight of Roach’s boxers, only the slightest bulge created by his mound, growling, “I don’t know what the hell is going on but I’m glad you have a cunt.”

It was an Austrian accent.

Roach gasped. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Why the fuck aren’t you stopping me?” He rubbed Roach’s slit through soaked boxers. “Why are you so wet, Gary?”

All Roach could manage was to whimper and tense his thighs, although he couldn’t bring himself to shove his enemy off or even close his legs.

“Mhm. Figures. My call sign is König, if you need something to scream. Or Colonel," he said, promptly burying his face in Roach's pussy.

Apparently, König was a freak. He inhaled deeply through his mouth and nose, one hand pinning Roach’s hip while the other lifted his homemade mask. As he licked, his nose rubbed Roach’s sensitive t-dick, wide tongue pressing against Roach’s hole.

Roach grabbed the back of his helmet and humped up into the sensation. Lifting his ass gave König the opportunity to pull his boxers down.

“Scheiße, look at that! Your clit’s huge,” he marveled, then wrapped his lips around it.

Roach yelled, earning a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t believe König was large enough to reach. Next thing he knew, two huge fingers pressed against his entrance. Under any other circumstances he’d beg the man to wait, to start with one, but he was too horny. He pushed back and they slid inside.

He cried, “Fuck, you’re stretching me out.”

“You can take it, slut,” König said, finding his G-spot and earning more delicious sounds. “Yeah, moan for me.”

When König’s fingers curled and his pace increased, Roach suddenly reached a shuddering orgasm and squirted up his wrist. The hand retreated, a fly unzipped, and König lined the tip of his dick up with Roach’s hole.

The sheer size of it made Roach’s eyes widen. “It’s like a fucking water bottle,” he sobbed.

“You can take it.”

His cheeks burned hot while König held his legs together in the air. It spread his pussy lips, stretching his hole as he gripped König’s arms. A rubber band tightened in his abdomen as the cock entered, impossibly deep until the man’s body pressed into his t-dick, who moaned at the feeling of Roach’s insides.

Roach’s eyes rolled back. He rolled his hips so it rubbed his G-spot.

“Ready?”

He nodded.

König groaned and pulled out before slamming himself back inside, dick long enough to just barely kiss Roach’s cervix. Roach gasped—König gave one more exploratory thrust before jackhammering down inside. Using him like a fleshlight. Completely uncaring about the obscenely sloppy sounds emanating from Roach’s mouth and hole.

Roach saw stars. He came again, bearing down on König's length, which began to throb as the man filled him with cum, spreading his legs to make out sloppily as their bodies rocked together.

Suddenly, Roach was empty. Cum poured from his pussy.

König stood on shaking legs and yanked him up. “Pull up your pants. You’ve got twenty seconds to run before I put a bullet in your head.”

[stardestroyer81]

Glitch Man attempts to start his morning with a hearty breakfast, but he doesn't get very far once Strafe Man's hijinks get involved.

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

Though tightly squeezed and under heavy fire, Easy held its ground. The Germans did not enter Nuenen. As the sky drew dark, Winters, badly outnumbered, finally ordered his men to withdraw. A short distance west of the village, a line of American deuce-and-a-half trucks waited for them, as did Lewis Nixon. He had been with Easy when it ran into the Germans. Knowing Winters would need help, he made his way back to battalion and ordered up the trucks. “Thought maybe you could use a ride,” Nixon said to Winters as his friend approached. Exhausted, Winters could only smile and nod. The wounded were loaded on the trucks and Winters led the rest back to Eindhoven on foot.[...]

Winters and Nixon returned to the church belfry and looked to the south. Although Holland is basically flat, Uden is about twenty feet higher than Veghel in elevation, and the two men had a grandstand seat for the battle. Winters gazed in fascination at the desperate struggle raging just a few miles away. He watched German tanks roll forward in battle formation while Luftwaffe planes strafed the ground ahead of them. The roar of artillery and the incessant rattle of small arms fire echoed across the fields while tracers blazed through the sky. Moments later the observers became the observed as an artillery shell whooshed by the bell tower. Winters and Nixon raced down the stairway. “I don’t think our feet touched the steps more than two or three times,” Winters later reflected. Back on the street, Winters prepared the men for a possible attack, but Uden remained unmolested.[...]

A dull clang to Winters’ left drew his attention. Nixon, a stunned look on his face, removed his helmet. A machine gun bullet had pierced the metal shell near the front, deflected, and exited at the side. It had left a burn mark on the left side of his forehead, but did not break the skin. Nixon would be one of the few Easy Company men to go through the entire war and never get the Purple Heart. “Are you okay, Nix?” Winters asked urgently. “Yeah, I think so,” he said, mildly dazed and feeling his forehead for blood. Finding none, he put the damaged helmet back on his head.[...]

Winters had stopped firing with the darkness, not wanting to give away his position through muzzle flashes. Sometime around midnight, Winters heard engine noises on the road ahead and the distinct clank of tank treads. He hoped the Germans were pulling out, but he held his line, waiting for daylight. As he listened to the noises, he looked at Nixon, who was huddled next to him. Somehow his friend had procured a bottle of schnapps and was in the process of finishing it off. “Where the hell do you find this stuff?” Winters asked in a low tone. Nixon waved the bottle at him drunkenly and said, “Never underestimate the resources of a man in need.” Winters shook his head in disapproval. He would not take this kind of behavior from any other man and was not sure why he tolerated it from Nixon. But he knew Nixon would be there doing his job when needed.

~ Larry Alexander

[leaderofthemafia]

WHOEVER YOU ARE GO TO HELL!!!!

How dare you to doxx someone (a minor !!!) and even write that shit too???? GO STRAIGHT TO HELL YOU SICK BASTARD!!!!

Und wenn du Deutsch sprichst: Geh scheißen!!! Wie kann man von einem Minderjährigen die Adresse überall hinschicken??? Du Geisteskrankes etwas du! Und weißt du was? Ich hoffe es wird dir wehtun!!! Ich hoffe, dass du gefunden wirst und eine saftige Strafe kassierst!!!!

→ IF YOU SEE AN ADDRESS IN YOUR ASKS REPORT IT!!!!!

(if anyone wonders I run both blogs, Higuchi @girlinmafia and this here but got this shit on both blogs)

[ddarianne]

Ah, just watched uncle dane's heavy video, made me cry, he didn't even scratch the surface on good positioning and his gameplay killed me. Also not even a mention on why sandvich is so good with or without a medic, just replacing a small healthpack for your team ;A; Also my boi doesn't bone his gun, you know how expensive that would be? he is not stoopid *cries* He treats his gun more like a child or his favourite stuffed toy, than a woman, specially on the comics. Also boyo! how can you ignore that voicespam with the medic, it's too iconic man, too iconic People still don't give him enough respecc. *sadge* So many details that he still hasn't picked up, shaking head, also my boy can move, last thing soldiers want to see it's a strafing heavy, and let me tell you, we're like a flying truck. Psht, freaking noob.

[becauseplot]

Phil was talking about how, if he and Ranboo ended up 1v1 in the final round of Dodge Bolt, he would throw so Ranboo could have a win, and it gave me the funniest mental image of like:

*in Dodge Bolt*

Phil, strafing back and forth like a madman: "RAN, STOP TRYING TO SHOOT ME AND FUCKING SHOOT ME!"

Ranboo, hands shaking, sweating bullets, on the verge of tears, *this* close to throwing up: "I'M DOING MY BEST MAN OKAY??"

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump Day 1 Part 3

Touch-Starved – Wrecker - An innocent request leads Doc to a horrifying discovery that she's quick to remedy.

Warnings: Reference to child neglect/ starvation, star wars cursing

WC: 3,452

Still slightly dazed, I watched my hands gather the last of the medical supplies littering the floor from Tech’s evasive maneuvers. He’d sent the Marauder rocketing between incoming fire and tumbling boulders too quickly for my eyes to even keep up with. Hunter had ordered me to stay aboard the ship for my own safety, but the death-defying stunts we’d had to make in order to meet the others at the rendezvous left me certain I’d have been safer with them.

But then we came into view of the very tail-end of their escape. The Separatist forces were staggering. If not for the unforgiving terrain of massive caverns and towering cliffs, the soldiers would have been overrun. Kriff, as it was, they should have been overrun, but the lethal efficiency driving their movements was… nearly inhuman.

Echo danced between flurries of red bolts, the pistol in his hand firing ceaselessly with frightening precision. Even from above, I couldn’t make out where Crosshair lay nestled against the stone wall, somehow anticipating his brothers’ actions well enough to not only avoid hitting them by mistake, but managing to build off their attacks to setoff explosives midair to cover a greater range. Hunter flitted between the targets so quickly, their own computers weren’t able to keep up, lining up enemy fire to take out handfuls of their own numbers between attacks of his own. And Wrecker…

Wrecker was terrifying in the most amazing of ways. I’d seen him toss 100Ib B1’s like they were nothing, but the B2 droids weighed over six times that, and, still, he heaved them about like it was a game. I could practically hear his booming laughter over the screaming engines, knuckles gleaming white as I clung to the flight harness trapping me into the copilot’s seat. Tech hadn’t even slowed down as we skimmed dangerously close to the ground, strafing low enough for his brothers to leap onto the lowered ramp as we soared past.

Of course, they were given the most dangerous missions – each one of them was a far cry from sane, but armed with the mental and physical prowess to rend reality into whatever truth they deemed fit. Maker, I was glad they were on my side…

“H-hey, Doc?” The hesitation in that gravelly voice instantly drew my attention back to the present, glancing over my shoulder to find Wrecker tentatively shifting his weight between his feet just beyond the doorway in a blindly stark contrast to his earlier display of might.

“Yeah, Wreck? Something I can help you with?” I asked softly, offering a gentle smile that I hoped might sooth his lingering unease.

“Ah, well… not really, just…”  Maker, this man was going to be the death of me. It took every ounce of control to keep from melting into a unprofessional flood of affection amidst the display of sweet innocence before me.

“Why don’t you come in here, big guy? I promise that door won’t lock behind you.” I murmured in as gentle of an invitation as I could manage. His gaze shifted briefly, almost as though he was studying the doorway to ensure I hadn’t added some hidden locking mechanism.

“Right, no – I know that.” He said dismissively, but his movements were still stiff as he walked forward enough for the sensors to automatically slide the door shut behind him.

“Alright, you want to tell me what’s going on? Did you get hurt on that last mission?”

“No-no; nothin’ like that!” He answered quickly, hands shooting up to wave away my concern. I leaned back against the cot, hands resting lightly atop the padding in full view as he chewed absently on his lip for a moment.

“Is this about one of your brothers?” I guessed, eyebrow raising slightly.

“Uh… no?” The tilt in that word finally drew an almost exasperated chuckle from me that finally pressed him to speak, though he still stammered over the words slightly, cheeks flaring red. “Well… so, Hunter an’ Echo mentioned what you’ve been… yuh know, that you’ve been helpin’ ‘em, that it was real’ relaxin’ and…” My face lit up, understanding finally dawning on me.

“Wrecker,” I called quietly, “are you asking for a massage?” The instant I said it, his eyes flew open, lips shifting quickly around some excuse that he hadn’t quite worked out. “Sweetie, I would be more than happy to. Is there a spot that’s been bothering you?” The eagerness in my voice seemed to alleviate some of his nervous energy, shoulders sinking slightly as he watched me step away from the bed.

“No-not, not particularly? Just… sounded nice, I guess?” I had to bite my lips to still the way my heart soared.

“Okay. How about I start on your shoulders and back, and if anything feels tender or you want me to focus on anything, you just let me know?” The warmth in my offer was evident even to my own ears as I gently rested a hand over his arm to guide him toward the cot.

“Sounds o-okay, I guess.” He answered in something of a mutter, that earlier hesitation just granting him the briefest of pauses before taking that first step forward.

“Great,” I whispered, letting a grin stretch across my face. “Are you comfortable taking off your armor and shirt?” I asked, stepping away to retrieve a bottle of oil from my personal supply before adding quietly, “It’s okay if you’re not.”

“S-sure.” I wasn’t used to this side of his normally boisterous personality but was eager to reward this step out of his comfort zone with the utmost care. He quickly shed the outer shell of plastoid and shamelessly pulled the top half his blacks off without bothering to loose the clasp stretching down the left side of his chest, and I felt myself pause.

I’d known the man was strong – all of the clones were careful to keep themselves in peak physical condition, but… the way his amber skin sunk against him to overemphasize the peaks and valleys of each muscle was… excessive. With his focus absently tuned to free his legs of the heavy plates, Wrecker, thankfully, didn’t notice that moment of distraction, and I quickly returned my attention to warming the lightly scented oil. That was a concern I would have to address. Soon. But not now.

“Go ahead and lay down on your stomach for me.” I said, drawing that gentle gratitude back into my voice. “Sorry if it’s a little cold.”

“I run pretty warm, so that don’t bother me.” He replied, infectious smile finally returning to those plush lips as he settled onto the cot, corded muscles shifting with painful clarity beneath his skin. Pushing back that fresh concern, I moved to stand at the head of the bed, pouring the oil generously over my hands.

“Mind if I ask what they told you about my messages?” I started at the base of his neck, gently dragging my hands down his spine before shifting up around the curve of his shoulder blades.

“Didn’t say much, I guess – just that you didn’t need to give ‘em any shots to make ‘em stop hurtin’.” The words were muffled against mattress, but the resonance of his voice still carried easily throughout the room. I fought the initial dismissal, searching for a way to ensure he didn’t grow to expect miracles when moments were dire.

“Certain kinds of pain, yeah.” I said, letting the rhythm of my speech fall in tandem with my movements, gradually adding weight to the heel of my palms to begin working the thick mass of muscle. “If you overwork something, or pull a joint wrong, that’s something I can help with.” His shoulders slowly began to sink further into the mattress. “It’s not a magic cure for everything, but I like to think it helps.” He hummed quietly, the sound rumbling against my fingers.

“Don’ think ‘nything’s helped like that when Hunter has one of th’s episodes.” His mumbling was getting worse, and it nearly drew a huff of laughter from my lips.

“I was really touched with how considerate the rest of you were for him - you could hear a pin drop in this thing.” The light praise flowed softly from my lips, shifting slightly to focus more pointedly on the swell of tissue sweeping from his neck down to his shoulder.

“Hm, when he gets like that, nothin’ we do c’n really help, so only thing we can do is not make it worse.” The subtle groan dragged through his words. “Wha’ver you did’s the first thing tha’s worked.” The heartbreak his absently mumbled comment shot through my chest brought with it the too real threat of tears, and I had to take a slow breath to steady myself.

“I’m really glad I could help.” I whispered as though it was a secret shared just between us. “And I’m really happy you’re giving me the chance to help you, too.” A shy laughter shook through him. “Did Hunter tell you about the breathing technique I had him do?” His head shifted slightly as though to glance back at me before going still once more.

“Don’t think so.” He replied, and I could feel some tension return to his shoulders as his attention tuned in on me.

“That’s alright. Would you mind if I walked you through it?” He shrugged lightly with a hesitant, ‘sure,’ and I fell into that trance-like cadence. “All I want you to do is breathe in for five seconds, and then slowly breathe out for eight seconds.” With Hunter, I’d offered no forewarning, anticipating his own assumptions to throw him off-balance enough to disrupt that impatient reluctance, but, with Wrecker’s willingness to follow my lead, I didn’t want him unbalanced. I wanted him calm and confident, fully aware of what to expect.

“Breathe in for 5…” He readily lost himself in the quiet meditation of those guided breaths, occasionally letting out a small groan as my touch dug between his shoulders. He tensed slightly at the sound, but quickly relaxed at the steady continuation of my count.

As I worked, straining my own muscles to push deep into his, I couldn’t help but cringe at the mass of knots lining his spine and tangling beneath his shoulder blades, certain that the only reason he couldn’t pinpoint a problem area earlier was because everything hurt and found myself wondering if it was a pain he’d grown so accustomed to, he’d simply learned to ignore it. Driving by that fear, I meticulously soothed out each ball of kinked tissue until my sweat-soaked hair stuck to my forehead, straining to quiet my own breaths as I continued quietly guiding him through his.

The unruly mess of knots was only a part of my worry, however. His body was painfully wiry, dense muscles void of almost any protective fat. I knew how readily he devoured his rations, and had seen no telltale signs of illness that might impede digestion, but the man was desperately in need of at least another twenty pounds. The question of ‘why’ settled painfully in my chest. Nothing mattered more to Hunter than his brothers, and I couldn’t doubt that he was both aware of the issue and just as troubled by it as I was. Mind racing over the implications, I tried to keep my mind from wondering too far from the man eagerly turning to puddy beneath my hands.

I’d only just begun leisurely revisiting the worst spots when that deep rumble sounded low in his throat, briefly biting my lips against the threat of laughter, but his next breath shook with an even louder snore, and I couldn’t help the way my slow exhale faltered. Movements unrushed despite how deep in slumber the man was, I slowly worked my way over the broad expanse of Wrecker’s back and shoulders once more before stepping quietly away from the bed to retrieve a spare blanket. He didn’t so much as twitch as I draped the fabric gently over him and silently left the room.

-

“He finally got around to asking you?” Echo was leaning against the wall just a few meters from the medbay entrance, eyes shining with a mirth I couldn’t help but mirror, lips instantly pulling into a broad smile.

“He did.” I confirmed happily, chest puffing out in a little dance of pride. “He just might sleep all the way back to Kamino.” The arc chuckled quietly at my glee, lips shifting with a response, but my expression fell when I caught sight of movement behind him, and he went quiet. Shooting him a grimace of a fleeting smile, I quickly tread passed him.

“Hunter?” I called softly, freezing the Sergeant mid-stride. Eyebrow cocking slightly, he glanced over his shoulder at me as I paused barely a meter away. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” His gaze darkened at the way my troubled words whispered on a hushed breath, giving a short nod before motioning me into the rec room and purposefully closing the door behind him.

“What’s wr”

“Will you take your shirt off?” I interrupted, teeth nervously working over my cheek as my fingers fidgeted against the plate of armor stretching around my thigh. Any other day, the sudden shock that shot over his face, brows arching high above his eyes as his lips fell just slightly open, would have granted me no end of laughter, but the worry twisting through my chest robbed me of that. His expression twitched into a frown, gaze burring into me with that normally unsettling intensity, but, at that moment, I barely noticed it.

“I’m not going to like where this is going, am I?” His voice dragged past his downturned lips with a deep reluctance.

“Please.” I whispered, head tilting slightly, shameless of the desperation in my voice. His gaze turned pointedly away, jaw jutting forward as he released a deep sigh, but with a subtle shake of his head, relented, quickly piling his armor into a neat stack beside him before undoing the clasp of his shirt and pulling it over his head. Fabric still dangling in his hand, he crossed his arms impatiently over his chest and let his eyes sweep back to mine, but I didn’t notice the sharpness of his gaze.

Maker, I could see the outline of ribs connecting to his sternum. Throat shifting to swallow back the sudden stiffness, I stepped closer to him, ignoring the elegant tattoo overlaying his left side as I studied the wretched slenderness of his waist, hips far too visible against the stretch of his blacks.

“Get what you need?” There was a harshness in his voice that only deepened the guilt sinking through my gut.

“Yeah – just lost a bet with Jesse about that tattoo.” I muttered but found no relief in my own wretched joke. “If I drag Crosshair and Tech in here, am I going to be able count their ribs as easily as yours?” I asked, eyes finally dragging up his painfully lean body to see the defensive anger flare through him. The muscles balled against his jaw, tendons gleaming white as his hands tightened into fists.

“Maker, I’ve been with you for months!” I had to turn away from him, hand dragging through my hair as I fought to steady my own breaths. “Kriff, I’m so sorry.” Exhale fleeing in a tense huff, I forced myself to look back at him, to let him see the depths of my guilt and sorrow, and I saw the hesitation tentatively replacing that anger.

“Will you tell me why?” I begged. His tongue darted over his lips, that burning intensity of his gaze studying me anew.

“Can I put my shirt back on first?” Some heartbreaking mixture of laughing and sobbing shook through me, eye slipping closed as my head dropped to my chest with a small nod, absently listening for the shuffle of fabric to cease before looking back at him. He’d turned that glare toward some distant point beyond the far wall, arms once more looped over his chest as his jaw ground stiffly for a long moment.

“The Kaminoans were never particularly considerate when it came to our… differences from regs.” He started quietly, fingers absently thrumming against his forearm. “Wrecker was nearly twice our weight even as cadets, but they barely gave him any extra rations. The rest of us have been… making do – splitting our shares with him.” I went painfully still as he spoke, horrified at what he’d just told me.

“You’ve been… this has been going on since you were kids?” The words barely flitted across my tongue, reluctant to even grant them that much voice. A flash of that anger flared through him as those dark eyes briefly darted back to me, but whatever he saw when he looked at me quickly stifled it, gaze dropping to the metal floors beneath us.

“I haggle for extra food where I can, but, between the regs and the long-necks, there’s not exactly a flourishing network willing to share with us.” He growled, clinging to what safety his anger granted him. Swallowing back my own disgust at that revelation, I turned resolute eyes up to him.

“Thank you, Hunter.” His brow hitched up at my words, but I was already turning away from him, mind churning over how to fix this because if I didn’t, if I let myself fall into the despair of not noticing it sooner, I’d be no good to any of them.

-

I’d spent the next hour rapidly typing out messages and quickly sent them in the brief lapse between lightspeed travel as Tech changed hyperspace lanes, and, the instant we landed, darted quickly down the ramp with barely a word of explanation to the others. They’d be busy with standard debrief for at least an hour, and there was every chance we’d be taking our leave again shortly after. I had to make sure everything was finalized by then.

The last delivery had just arrived when the squad made their way back to the Marauder, and they all stopped short, looking over the half dozen crates stacked up around me.

“That better not be some useless nat-born-” I interrupted Crosshair’s snarled comment by silently tossing a ration bar at him. He easily caught it, gaze lingering over the wrapper for a moment before turning back to me.

“Oh, kriff yeah! It’s all food?” Wrecker boomed, snatching the bar out of his brother’s hand before trotting quickly forward to dig through the open box beside me. I’d didn’t have time to answer, lips only just pulling into a small grin before he shouted, “It is! Aww, these are my favorite, too!” The impressed surprised on Tech’s face sent a flush of heat up my neck.

“How did you manage to requisition so much?” He asked, glancing briefly over the wealth of supplies before looking back toward me.

“I’m your medic.” I started simply. “Regretfully, an oblivious one, but my orders still carry some weight. I pulled rank where I could and called in a few favors to update your base inventory.” The darkness that replaced the fleeting glimpse of confusion lingered for barely a heartbeat before his expression went carefully blank. His head dipped in a small nod before turning to his still exhilarated brother.

“Wrecker, let’s get these loaded. We will need to rearrange the supply room in order for them to fit.” Even the loathsome task of organizing couldn’t dampen Wrecker’s joy, and, before he moved to help, the towering man darted toward me, mischief gleaming in his eyes. I barely had time to tense before his arms darting around my waist, iron hold locking me against him as he hoisted me up in a fit of laughter. My hands darted out to his shoulders, loud gasp tearing from my throat.

“Thanks, Doc!” He set me back down and darted away so quickly, I had to grab onto one of the crates to steady myself, cheeks burning at Echo’s quiet laughter.

“Impressive.” The arc murmured warmly as he tread passed me into the ship to help Tech, the sniper following him with barely a glance toward me.

“I’m not sure if I should be grateful or offended in how quickly you were able to get all this.” Hunter said, stepping quietly toward me. My jaw tensed, again feeling that resurgence of guilt.

“This isn’t a one-time thing,” I murmured, gaze carefully burring into his, “I swear. Hunter, if it’s not enough, you tell me.” He watched me in silence for a long moment, but finally replied with a small nod.

Next Chapter

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[bambi-nex]

Du schreibst in einem Kommentar, dass deine Freundin gelegentlich von dir verlangt, dass du Groß in die Windel machst.

Ist sie die Dominante bei euch und ist das dann so eine Art Strafe für dich? Oder ist es für sie einfach nur der Anlass, dich liebevoll sauber zu machen?

Grüße von den Harzkindern

Ganz unterschiedlich. Wir schlafen an den Wochenende oft lange aus, vor allem wenn meine Freundin von der Nachtschicht nach Hause kommt. Ich musste damals aber schon dringend groß und sie meinte, mach doch einfach in deine Windel, dafür hast du sie doch an. Die Bedienung war dann nur, dass sie mich dann auch sauber macht, denn wenn du groß in der Windel hast, sollte man definitiv zu zweit sein. Seitdem mach ich manchmal auch groß rein, aber nur am Wochenende oder im Urlaub. Hab als Strafe aber auch schon ein Abführzäpfchen bekommen und sie hatte dann ihre Freude dabei mich zu beobachten. Also beides irgendwie.