#a galactic pants-off you say?

[catastrfy]

the bickerflirting continues to ramp up at disneyland, but now my money is on a wolvie/wade/starlord OT3…

bickering, by jingo! shoving wolvie who’s shoving wade. wade grabbibg starlord bodily and hustling him off stage to the right (and *gasp* in the dark! my aunt fanny!) before running after wolvie! (awwww, young love)

did wolvie hear about the “come on!”/“i’d love to” exchange a few days ago?

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐓𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐠 ♡

Day Thirty - Alien Au (Ft. Egg laying and breeding)

【Synopsis】 : You husband is in need of your "person assistance"... unlucky for you, San and Wooyoung want a taste of you also.

『Word count』 : 2.92k

-> Genre: Alien au. Smut. Pwp.

Pairing: Aliens!WooSanSang x MarsBornHuman!Reader

[Warnings] : Multiple tentacles! Jerking off. Fingering in a sense? Multi-coloured cocks (yes... thats a warning). Oral (m rec). Swearing. Mention of mating bonds and claims. A bandaged wound. Photography and videoing. Unprotected sex. Breeding (obviously). Multiple orgasms. Dirty talk. Pet names. Rough sex. Lowkey free use. Wooyoung is possessive as fuck. Illegal stuff. Running from the law. Guns and sirens. Gotta love a good heist.

Networks: @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity

Note: Ahh, I can't believe Halloween is tomorrow!! Are you all as excited as I am. ♡

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You took a deep breath as you adjusted the bust hem of your long black dress. The ballroom was a swirl of glittering gowns and tuxedos, and the air buzzed with mingling laughter and gossip amongst the galactic elite. At your side was Hongjoong, your captain. He scanned the room, his eyes ever vigilant, ready to seize the opportunity to steal the rare cromer crafted by the fabled artisans of the Gilded Realm. This was your crew's mission—a heartbeat away from the legendary artifact that could bend time and realities itself.

Yet something gnawed at your gut, a feeling of unease that coiled like a serpent, distracting you from focusing. And just as you were about to voice your concerns to Hongjoong, your holocom vibrated against your thigh. You glanced down at where the sleek tablet rested, noticing San's user icon. Without causing too much attention, you unclip the small rectangular size screen. But you felt your heart drop upon reading the message. It was a text, saying: “Sugar, Yeosang isn’t well. Meet us in the far bathroom. Hurry.”

“Captain, I—”

“Go,” Hongjoong replied, his voice steady, sensing the urgency in your demeanour. “We’ll hold off until you get back. Just be quick, okay angel.” The loving pet name rolled off his lips like butter, giving you some peace in your anxiousness.

You didn’t need to be told twice as you wove through the throng of elegantly dressed patrons, each step a mix of concern and adrenaline. You quickly reached the far end of the lavishly decorated hall away from most of the party guests. You opened the door to the women's restroom, and the moment you crossed the threshold, your heart ached at the sight before you. You found Yeosang, your darling husband, in a state of distress. His tentacles, usually restrained and hidden, were now wrapping around his body uncontrollably, and his eyes held a frantic darkening look. "I'm sorry, my love," He panted, leaning against the sink, sweat glistening on his brow, his vibrant tentacles tightening with every second that passed. He looked up at you, a weak smile breaking through his evident discomfort. “I—,” he whimpered, his voice strained.

You rushed to his side, your hands reaching for his arms, noticing that his skin was hot to the touch. “What’s wrong?”

"I've gone into my rut early..." His voice held a note of embarrassment, but you could sense the urgency in his words. Usually, when Yeosang's species goes into their mating cycle's they are isolated, and it's prepared meticulously. But since everyone is a different type of alien on the crew, it doesn't surprise you that cycles change and fluctuate to when they are supposed to happen.

San, standing beside Yeosang, added, "I've been trying to calm him down, but nothing seems to be working. I think we need to help him now before it becomes even more difficult to control. Just until we can get him back to the ship." You nodded at your lover, understanding the situation all too well. You knew that when Yeosang goes into heat, his body has the tendency to take over, and his needs become all-consuming. So this was just to calm his body so it could give his mind some room to breathe.

So without wasting anothering moment, knowing Hongjoong told you to be quick, you pulled Yeosang closer to you. Your bodies flush against one another as he held you against the cold, hard sink. You felt his tentacles slither down towards your legs, snaking themselves around your thighs before tightening around you. A mixture of desire and desperation surged through both of you and in one with swift motion, he spun you around, lifting your dress so the fabric could pile around your waist, revealing your already wet panties, a testament to your own growing arousal.

Yeosang could no longer hold back. With a sharp snap, he tore your panties in half, the sound echoing in the bathroom. Letting the ruined material fall to the dirty floor, he used one of his lubricated tentacles to slide between your legs, spreading your limbs apart so he could stand behind you snuggly. Yeosang was already becoming quickly lost in the pleasure, needing to feel you wrap around him. “Y-Yeo quickly…”

Your pants caused Yeosang to growl animalistically. He hated people telling him to hurry up, but deep down, he knew why you said it, knowing Hongjoongs temper all too well. So using his tentacles, two held your glistening folds open while he started to drill one into your pussy, stretching you out to accommodate his size in a moment.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp gasp, a mixture of pleasure and surprise, moving your hips in time with the tendrils thrusts. San stood by, his eyes fixed on the filthy scene before him. He couldn't help but reach down to palm himself through his pants, already feeling the stirrings of his own needs grow. He watched as Yeosang's tentacle worked its magic, pumping into you with a desperate speed, preparing you nicely.

You felt yourself getting carried away by the pleasure, almost forgetting where you were and why you were there. Yeosang's tentacle knew exactly how to stimulate you, knowing your body better than yourself, curling and twisting in just the right spots. You tried desperately to remain quiet, but as Yeosang's motions became more frantic, your breath quickened and soft moans escaped your lips as you felt yourself creep closer to the edge. “S-sangie pleaseee.”

“I know... Just let me enjoy this. Fuck..” He grunted through gritted teeth. What he would give to take his time with you, slowly pumping you full, eating you, loving on you for hours. But alas time was literally of the essence. So with a hazy mind, you reached out to comfort San... to give him some relief as well. Your fingers fiddled at his belt, and the red alien couldn't help but chuckle at your desperateness. He flipped the belt off in seconds giving enough room for his long cock to slip out of its confinements. The patterning and ridges on his cock made you gulp, never being able to get used to the variety of shapes and sizes your lovers gift you. Your tongue licked a strip up the base until you reached the tip, letting his cock slip into your waiting mouth.

“Fuck that's it, baby…” San groaned his hand gently holding the back of your head. You felt tears welt in the corners of your eyes, most likely ruining your makeup. Yeosang doesn't stop his tentacles having added two more inside you as he picks up speed in his thrusts matching the snap in Sans's hips.

You were almost completely lost in the burn of desire until you could hear your holocom start to ring against your exposed thigh as it sat snug in its holster. You went to reach for it, worried it might be the captain telling you that time was up. But San grabbed it before you could, reading the user icon to see it was none other than Wooyoung. San couldn't help but chuckle at seeing his friend's name given to you. Wooyoung had only recently completed your mating bond when you all travelled to his home planet. His claim on your hip was most likely still red and sore beneath the bandage you put on it.

The poor pup was wondering where you were. His sense of possessiveness was still strong, and he wanted to know your whereabouts every hour. And now, finding you were missing from your post next to your captain, he would have begun to worry. San, thinking quickly, opened your holocom and started recording a video. The sight of Yeosang's tentacles buried deep inside your dripping cunt, the sounds of your moans muffled against his cock, with the image of you sucking him off for dear life was all too enticing to resist not sharing. And with a few quick taps and the quick text saying “busy”, San sent the video to Wooyoung, knowing it would drive him wild.

Throwing the phone onto the sink lazily, you all briefly noticed the vibrations of the com against the sink, announcing Wooyoung's incoming call, but San hit ignore before going back to focusing on the task at hand, fucking your pretty mouth. Yeosang had reached his limit quickly and with a final, powerful thrust he pulled his tentacles out of you before quickly replacing them with his hard cock. He drilled into you with passion, his high-pitched whimpers echoing around the dim restroom. He didn’t take long to start feeling the brew of heat in his gut, indicating his eggs were ready. Just a few more thrusts. He wanted to, needed to, last a bit longer. He was screaming at himself internally for wanting to empty his load so quickly but he couldn’t take it any longer. “Fuck, darling. I need to come. You’re gonna be a good girl and take my eggs huh. Hold them and make them warm for me.”

Yeosang’s ramble caused your cunt to clench tightly around him, sucking his cock in deeper. Your mouth flew off San with a guttural cough. “Sange!! Arghh. Please. I’ll be good. Give them to me.” He came deep inside you quickly after your sweet words, his slicked-up eggs pumping into you in relentless waves. As he emptied himself, one of his tentacles reached around to rub your clit, sending you into your own orgasm, your juices squirting around his cock before splattering all over the floor.

Yeosang pulled out of you slowly, his tentacle still gently caressing your sensitive flesh. But San wasted no time in claiming what was his, spinning you around and pushing you up onto the counter. You had no time to process nor even try to stop him. You were here to help Yeosang, to calm him down, not give San a fucking quickie. But your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist nonetheless as he lined up his large alien cock at your entrance, ready to take his turn with you.

San's eyes rolled back and his jaw went slack as he plunged into your wet ruined pussy, your walls clenching around him, still sensitive from your high with Yeosang. He fucked you with a vigorous pace, his abdomen tightening as the counter creaked under your combined weight. San's hand covered your mouth to muffle your cries as you began to scream out his name, his other hand gripping your hip too tightly to maintain his frantic drilling. He wasn't aiming for a slow climb to his release but instead the quickest route he could possibly take. Yeosang, in his own temporary satisfaction, kissed your shoulder tenderly, lazily, his hazy mind still dancing among the clouds. His tentacle joined San's hand in bringing you to another orgasm, rubbing your little nub in quick short circles. San groaned as he felt your pussy clamp down on his cock, and with a few more thrusts, he spilled his seed into you, his own release mixing with Yeosang’s warm eggs.

The bathroom door swung open just as San was pulling out of your thoroughly fucked hole, and in walked Wooyoung, his face flushed and his cock tenting the front of his pants. The sight before him, the sounds, and the smell of sex filling the room drove him into a frenzy. Wooyoung needed no invitation. He pulled you towards him roughly, bending you over the sink with an audible thud before lifting your dress out of his way. Without preamble, he entered you in one go, his cock sliding easily into your well-prepared hole. You felt full, completely stuffed with his huge cock, given his species was normally well-hung compared to most and your body buzzed with arousal at the forbidden nature of it all. You were definitely going to get an ear full from Hongjoong when you finally get back to the mission at hand. Wooyoung fucked you with wild strength, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass quickly filled the room. The mix of San and Yeosang's seed started to leak out of your pussy with each thrust only serving to heighten Wooyoung's desire to come deep inside you. He was like an animal in heat, even worse than Yeosang, driven by his need to claim what was his. His mate. His his his.

You could do nothing but hold onto the sink as Wooyoung jackhammered into you. Your own needs had been met multiple times over, but the relentless fucking continued, pushing you closer to the edge once more. You drooled onto the counter as your crackled moans played like music to all three men's ears. Wooyoung's grunts filled the room also, as he approached his high, his hands gripping your hips tightly, leaving marks on your soft skin with his sharp nails.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m gonna breed this tight hole, push all Yeosang’s eggs out. Make room for mine. Hmm.” Wooyoung chuckles making Yeosang suddenly chime in his growl deep and primal.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare.” The red in Yeosang’s eyes was evident that he was ready to fight Wooyoung but the other alien seemed to be more calm about the matter, staggering his hips slightly as he smirked devilishly.

“Try me.” With a final, powerful thrust, Wooyoung unloaded his cum deep into your cunt, his seed joining the mixture of his fellow aliens. Your body trembled as you felt yet another high building rapidly, threatening to overwhelm your whole body. As Wooyoung pulled out, his cum leaked out of you like a waterfall, mingling with the others, a sticky mess on the bathroom floor. But Wooyoung was quick to plug your hole back up with his fingers.

You slumped completely against the sink, your body spent, and thoroughly used. You looked at the three men surrounding you. You went to speak, but just as you opened your mouth, the air grew heavy with sirens blaring throughout the lavish ballroom under the door before entering the bathroom. The stomach-churning sound jolted you all. Then, as if on queue, suddenly, the door slammed open, and Seonghwa burst into the restroom, his face pale with frustration, concern, and a little turned on.

“Mingi got the cromer!...the fucking idiot” he shouted but mumble the last part. “We need to leave now!” Without a second thought, Yeosang hoisted you up into his arms adjusting your dress so you were covered. His strength returned as if sudden adrenaline coursed through his veins. You just clung to his shoulders, laughter bubbling between all four of you as they dashed out of the bathroom, hearts racing along with their feet.

The moment you all emerged, chaos erupted in the lavish ballroom. Guards with laser guns were already fanning out, searching with narrowed eyes, but you and your crew were ready. Darting past tables, ducking under chandeliers of illuminated crystals that might have cut the air above them. With Seonghwa leading the way, all the men twisted and turned through the maze-like corridors of the royal estate, Yeosang still tightly holding onto you, their crazed laughter mingling with frantic footsteps booming behind them. “That’s it! This way!” Seonghwa yelled, pointing towards an emergency exit where the ship docks lie.

As they neared the ship dock, they could hear the relentless footsteps of guards and more sirens blaring in the distance. “Hurry!” Hongjoong's voice echoed through the comm, urging his crew onward. With a final burst of speed, Yeosang propelled himself and you through the narrow closing door leading to your vessel, the Illusion. The sleek design of their ship loomed before you—a sanctuary waiting to be boarded.

“After me!” Hongjoong shouted as he helped Seonghwa aboard, hand in hand. Mingi and Jongho were already at the controls, having set the cloaking device to prepare for your escape, the cromer having been hooked up beautifully─Jongho’s handy work.

You felt your heart race, the thrill of the heist and the quick-not-so-quick fucking session igniting your senses. As you finally all piled into the ship, you caught a glimpse of the guards emerging quickly from the exit but Mingi was quicker. “Initiating launch now!” Mingi’s hands flew over the controls as he pressed the buttons with urgency.

Just as the guards reached them, the mighty engines of the Illusion roared to life. With a final surge, the ship lifted off the ground, and you looked back one last time, meeting the glances of hostile eyes as they faded into the stars. “Fuuuckk! We did it!” Mingi cheered, slapping Yeosang on the back as they flew into the depths of the galaxy, laughing at their narrow escape.

You finally let out the breath you were holding, your nose nuzzling into his scent gland on his neck, calming him and yourself. You beamed at him, who grinned back despite the weariness in his eyes. “Next time, can we skip the chaos?” You teased.

“I make no promises,” he replied with a wink walking you towards his chamber where he could finally get you all to himself for the rest of the night.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weir: Dad Energy

“And how is the little one?”

Miori took the offered cup of Ch’a from the waiter and took a sip as Divini continued.

“It must make be a bit of a shock for you to be dating a human that may become your new mate.”

As ever, Divini was ever one to stick her hooked nose into things that did not concern her; least of all Miori’s mate prospects. She imagined it only registered on her friend’s radar as she was pursuing a potential prospect with a human instead of a Nimorian like herself.

She had met Will during a galactic translation stop while she was taking her offspring Mina to visit her grandparents. In the hustle and bustle of the space port Miori lost track of Mina. She began running back and forth between departure gates searching for her to no avail and just when she thought she had lost her only offspring the intercom came to life.

“Ms. Miori, please come to the security office on level 4; we have Mina here waiting for you. Ms. Mori, please come-“

The announcement had barely made it through its second repetition before Miori was there panting and gasping like a belly gna realizing it was at a slaughter farm.

Sitting in a chair with her legs hanging off the side sucking on some sort of treat was her darling Mina, and next to her telling her everything would be okay was Will. He was a security officer at the port and had found Mina wandering alone scared and had taken her back to the security office to wait. He’d comforted her and gave her a sweet while the pair waited together for Miori to come.

Ever since then they’d kept in touch and eventually one thing led to another.

“Are you sure Mina is okay with you being with a human?” Divini said drawing her back to the present.

“At first she wasn’t.” Miori began, setting her drink down. “But a few nights ago Will did something that won her over.”

“Oh?”

Divini’s curiosity was enough for Miori to continue.

“Mina’s been having trouble sleeping at night ever since her father died. He would comfort her each night before she went to bed and tell her everything would be alright. But since he passed she says she’s been having nightmares about monsters coming to get her.”

A look of sadness fell over Miori as she recounted her tale. “I tried to comfort her, but it wasn’t the same.”

“So how does this Will figure into your story?” Divini inquired.

“One night,” Miori began, “I had Will over. The three of us were having such fun that we lost track of time and by then it was too late for him to go home so I invited him to say the night.”

“I bet you did.”

Miori dismissed Divini’s suggestive smile and continued.

“So as we were getting ready to go to bed Will saw Mina laying upright in bed looking at her closet. He asked her what was wrong and she said that there were monsters in her closet waiting to get her.”

“I thought he would laugh at her or try to offer some form of minimal comfort, but to my surprise he went to the living room and pulled up a chair and placed it in front of the closet. He looked at her and said “Don’t you worry; if there are any monsters they’ll need to get through me first.””

“He did not.”

“He did.” Miori confirmed. “And he stayed like that all night long and I swear Mina has not slept as well since my mate’s passing.”

“She now asks for him to come over more and more often.”

“Something I bet you like.” Divini chipped in before Miori threw a toasted cruffle at her.  

[neon-junkie]

Fractured

Summary: Tech's recent injury has led him to your Medical Bay, and despite you being excellent at your job, Tech needs additional assistance with easing the pain. You have something fun in mind.

Pairing: Tech x gn!Reader

Tags: Medical assistance, Fractured bones, Medic Reader, Friends to lovers, Oral (giving,) Handjobs, Size kink, Cock worship, Large cocks, Flirting, Pain relief.

Word count: 5.1k

Notes: This is set after Episode 1&2 of Season 2. I actually started writing this back when those episodes aired, but then… depression… lol I have never broken/fractured a bone before (alpha genes,) so I have no idea what actually goes on when you break one lol. I did my research, but… IDK, this is probs off, but you're not here for the medical side of things, are you? Also, I like the idea of nerds with big dicks. I don't really care about size IRL, but Tech with an absolute unit of a cock? Yeah, sign me the fuck up!!!

"You got squished like a bug."

"I did not-" Tech cuts himself off. "Like a bug? Please, restrain yourself from making such comedic remarks about my pain and suffering."

With that, Tech lets out a grunt, and you're unsure if it's at your remark, or an outlet from the pain that he's currently in.

Tech was squished like a bug during the last mission. Splat! As you so put it, after Tech explained what exactly happened in that war chest. The force of a thousand suns flattened his poor leg, and his thigh soaked up most of the damage.

That's what he gets for not wearing thigh armour.

That comment didn't go down well, either. However, Tech should know by now that your wit and sarcasm will never fail you. You have, after all, been running with the Batch long before the Clone Wars fizzled out into… whatever this is, The Galactic Empire, and those who opposite it.

If only Hunter would allow you and the others to join the fight…

Back onto the topic. Tech was carried into the Marauder's medical wing, with Echo's assistance, and left on the medical bed for you to check him over. He was hissing and wincing as he pushed himself up onto the table, his hands flexing whilst he gripped onto his thigh, and pleading eyes met yours as he began going over the series of events.

You were stationed with Hunter and Wrecker, seeing as Wrecker is your loyalist customer when it comes to injuries, only Tech has taken you by surprise!

"It's definitely fractured," you state as you dig through your medical kit, finding something exciting to dial down the pain. Tech has stated that he'd prefer to remain awake, which is understandable, seeing as you won't be stitching him up, or worse, cutting him open.

"I assume I'll have to lounge around with a cast on for the next six weeks?" Tech questions, his eyes watching you as you read over a few labels, deciding which drugs to supply.

"Minimum," you say with a soft nod, half-focused on his words. "These will do," you decide, holding the pill bottle in one hand, whilst the other shuts your medical box.

You turn to face Tech, and with a nonchalant expression, you order, "take off your pants."

Tech's eyes blink wide beneath his goggles, and he lets out a sheepish cough before asking, "pardon?"

"I can't do an X-ray with your pants still on, and do you really want your cast applied over those jeans?" you point to his new pants - casual, straight jeans, which surely can't be comfortable to work in?

Forgive him. It's his first time out in the Galaxy, and a newly freed man is bound to make poor decisions. Live and learn, Tech…

"Oh," Tech mutters. "Understood."

You hand him the pill bottle first, along with a glass of water, and give Tech a strict order to take his drugs before stripping off. "I'll give you some privacy, call for me when you're ready," you inform, and leave the medical wing, the door swishing shut behind you.

Sure, you've seen Tech in all sorts of states, almost naked that one time, back when you were new. Wrecker had found it hilarious to fiddle with the refresher's water supply as Tech went to take a shower, and poor Tech, who was rather reserved when first meeting you, had to leave the refresher with only a towel around his waist. He had barked at Wrecker to, "leave the hot water supply alone! Are you attempting to impress our newest member? Or perhaps, make a fool of me? Both? Do you find this amusing?!" blah blah blah…

-

Minutes have passed, and you overhear Tech calling out, "you may come in."

The door swishes open, and you're greeted by Tech in the same position on the medical bed, relaxing back against the headboard. An untidy pile of armour and clothing has appeared on the floor, not that he has the ability to neatly organise them.

Tech remains in just his turtleneck under armour, his fingertips currently running along the neckline, picking at its tightness. He's wearing a standard pair of briefs, nothing enticing, and the hemline thankfully stops above the X-ray zone. Great! You don't fancy having to order Tech to remove those as they're in the way…

As for the last item of clothing, they're-

"Tech," you speak with firmness. "Are those my socks?"

Tech stops picking at his neckline to gawk down at his feet. His wiggles his toes mindlessly as he sheepishly mumbles, "it appears they are."

"Is that so?" you repeat with a raised brow.

Tech's pleading eyes come out again as he meets your gaze. "I could not find a pair of my own this morning, and seeing as we were in a rush, I opted for the next best thing."

Your eyes trail from his to look at your socks once more, the little tookas on them smiling at you. They're fuzzy, warm and snuggly, and not the sort of item that you ever thought you'd see on Tech.

Omega? Perhaps.

Wrecker? Definitely.

But Tech?

"The next best thing," you repeat his words again. "I'm surprised that you picked the tookas over the voorpaks."

Tech scoffs. "Tookas are the obvious choice. Whilst voorpaks may be pleasing to the eye, they're needy, with no consideration for personal space. Tookas, on the other hand, are far more independent animals, with a…" Tech shuts his mouth, and nervously licks his lips before asking, "I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

"A sign that the drugs have kicked in," you say with a shrug. "Time to X-ray!"

Tech lets out a defeated sigh, and watches as you set up the X-ray machine. It's a numbing and dull task, but needed, seeing as such a smart man has managed to get himself injured.

The X-ray is taken, and you leave Tech to his own devices as you begin processing the scan at your desk. Whilst you wait for the image to form, you check on a few other things, and in the corner of your eye, you notice how Tech fails to sit still.

His fingertips are running along his neckline again, attempting to find fresh air, even though his under armour has never seemed restricting before. A light glisten of sweat is sitting above his brow, and whenever Tech's hands stray from his neckline, they rest directly on his lap. His fingertips begin fidgeting with the hem of his briefs, only for his eyes to meet yours, and his hands to fall motionless.

"Are you alright?" you question.

"F-fine," Tech mutters. "Just awaiting the results."

With that, the scan is processed, and you hum to yourself as you study it. Tech doesn't look away from you; he studies your reaction, and his shoulders drop with relief as yours do. "It's not as bad as I thought," you state as you rise from your desk. "I'll apply a cast, and unfortunately for you, you'll be bound to the Marauder for the next few weeks."

"Charming," Tech huffs.

You put together a bowl of warm soapy water, and hand it over to Tech, along with a towel. "Give your thigh a good scrub. It'll be the last time it's cleaned until the cast can come off."

Tech follows your orders, and leaves you to begin putting the cast supplies together. He's letting out soft grumbles as he scrubs himself down, not applying much pressure, seeing as bruises have already begun forming.

Within minutes, you're ready, and Tech is attempting to dry his thigh. The bowl of water is discarded, and you softly mutter, "here," as you take the towel from him. "Let me help."

With your order, Tech slowly bends his leg, raising his knee high enough so that you can gently dry the underside of his thigh - a task that he was struggling to do alone. He's still wincing as you dab over the area, but nowhere near as much as he was when tending to himself. It seems you're light on your touch, and Tech is silently thankful for it.

"Keep your leg bent like that," you instruct as you dispose of the towel, and bring your cast supplies over to the workbench.

You gently run your palm over Tech's thigh, questioning if his skin is dry enough to begin the application, and only now do you realise the predicament that you're in.

You're no stranger to Tech's good looks - impeccable cheekbones, a toned chest, nimble fingers, adorable doe eyes, and a hairline so sharp that it can slice through beskar - but the issue is purely that, his good looks. You're attempting to work, and the sensation of your fingertips dancing through the light hair on his tanned thighs is causing quite the distraction.

You scoot your stool over to the medical bed, and adjust the height. Once seated, you let out a deep sigh before beginning your work, attempting to keep your eyes on his forming bruises, rather than allowing it to wander… higher…

Tech looks down at you, quite literally, watching through his tinted goggles as you begin binding his leg, paying special attention to any signs of discomfort - not that he shows any. His fingertips are subconsciously entwining with each other, fidgeting, and attempting to cover up his briefs out of politeness. It's not that you've never seen Tech, or any of the boys in their undies before, but your face is less than half a meter from his crotch, and you're both well aware.

A huff flows from your lips as you fix the soft material in place, the easy part over and done with. Now, it's time to wet the plaster, and apply it one strip at a time - a lengthy process, seeing as you have to wait for each layer to dry before continuing.

As time goes on, you both seem to relax, becoming accustomed to your new-found closeness. Tech even strikes up a light conversation, filling you in on his side of the mission, and speaking highly about the civilian that he met on the way.

"He called me Ace," Tech informs you, "not that I had any issue with it. I found the nickname rather appealing."

Your eyes trail up to meet his, and a soft laugh slips from your lips as you repeat, "Ace?"

"I think it suits me," Tech says with a shrug. "Besides…"

His words continue, shifting into comforting background noise as you do your job. At least Tech is comfortable with you; when you first met, he'd only ever correct you, or information dump on you. Now, you can hold a conversation, seeing as you managed to win him over after correcting him on a minor detail a few weeks into being stationed with the Batch.

The more Tech mutters, the more his form relaxes. His hands move from his lap to adjust his goggles, not that they probably need it, and you can't help but notice something in the corner of your eye.

In hindsight, this was your fault. You shouldn't have looked. You should have kept your focus on your work, and prevented your eyes from prying at Tech's crotch. He is, after all, a grown man sitting in his underwear, with a pretty Medic rubbing their hands along his bare thigh. Tech is a soldier, and it's a known fact that soldiers don't have much leisure time, let alone spare time to do… stuff.

Your lips fall apart, and every circuit in your brain fries within an instant. Your hands, wet and covered in plaster, come to a halt in the middle of a wrap, and all you can focus on is… that.

Tech, after adjusting his goggles, instantly falls silent as he notices that you've come to a halt. He calls out your name, and despite his exceptional mind, it takes him a few moments to realise what's caused you to stop like a deer in the headlights.

"Oh," Tech sheepishly sighs as he puts two and two together. "I…" he stutters, but words fail him. So, thinking on his feet (and fractured leg) he returns his hands to his lap, covering up the issue.

Only now do you realise that you're a karking idiot. Seriously, why did you have to stare?! Why couldn't you have turned away, blushed, and continued working?

You go to apologise, but Tech beats you to it. "I apologise… It's… It's not intentional-" he sputters.

You let out a soft sigh, and shake your head in an attempt to slap some sense into your dense brain. "Tech," you mumble his name, and after blinking heavily, you look up at him.

Tech, with cheeks so bright that they outshine the suns, fails to make eye contact. He's breathing deeply, and mentally questioning if it's possible for him to run away from his problems, even with a half-finished, wet cast around his thigh.

Instead, Tech defends himself even more, seeing as the first option isn't doable. "I have been attempting to control myself this entire time, but it seems my-"

"-Tech," you call out to him again.

Tech finally meets your gaze, but only for a moment. He can't maintain eye contact, he simply can't, that is, until you state something that has his mind spinning in confusion.

"You're huge."

"P-pardon?" Tech sputters, followed by coughing into the back of his hand. That is not what he was expecting to fall from your lips.

You wave your hands defensively, droplets of plaster falling onto the medical bed. "I mean, it's alright, you can't help it," you sputter. Now, you're the one struggling to maintain eye contact, your mind fogging up, clouded with one simple thought.

"Can't help what?" Tech questions. "My erection? Or my size?"

A timid laugh flows from your lips, "I meant your erection, but both, I guess…"

Tech laughs with you, although it's clear that he's nervous. Whatever this is - intimacy, of some form - is new. You're no stranger to light flirting with your boys, and often receiving it in return, but holy Maker. Tech is rock solid, and there is no denying that you're the cause of it; the evidence is right there!

"Well…" Tech's words fall flat, and after adjusting his goggles, he gears up again. Rather than sit in silence, mutually starstruck over the unit sitting in Tech's pants, Tech decides to ramble as much as humanly possible. "…I have chalked my size up as a side effect from my enhancements. There are multiple documented cases that the standard clones all share the same erection size. I am, however, beyond those standards."

"Wait-" you cut him short with a soft laugh. "-There are documented cases of what?"

Tech lets out a chuckle, and shakes his head in awe that he's having to bring this information to light. "It's no secret that we clones have had intimate relationships, and some partners like to… how should I say it? Discuss their experiences with others on the holonet."

You repeat Tech's motions, softly laughing and shaking your head, amazed over this new information. "You mean, people like to jump on the holonet and discuss which Troopers kriff the best?"

"That is one way of putting it, yes."

"Dank farrik," you laugh. You mean, the information that you've been curious about this entire time, has been on the holonet at your disposal? Idiot! Why didn't you simply search for it?

There's no denying that you're attracted to both your squad, and their regular brothers, and as always, curiosity wanders… At least some beings were smart enough to post their findings on the net, along with… whatever else might be on there. You make a mental note to check it out later!

"What were you doing on those sites?" you question, and decide to start working again, seeing as the plaster is slowly drying on your fingertips.

To your surprise, Tech's emotions remain calm as he mindlessly replies, "I was researching my… ahem, abnormality."

"I see…" you conclude. Curious for more, you take a gamble, and up your flirting game. "Has anybody started a thread for Clone Force 99?" you say with a soft purr, causing Tech's ears to perk up as blush begins to form across his cheeks.

"I…" Tech stutters. "Not that I am aware of, no," he says with a nervous chuckle.

Still with wet plaster on your hands, you put on a cheeky grin as you ask, "we could fill in the blank."

Your name comes stumbling out of Tech's mouth as all the heat in his body rises to his cheeks. "You cannot be serious!" He sweats, refusing to maintain eye contact. Nervous hands fiddle with the hemline of his shirt, wringing the fabric tightly in his bare palms, all whilst still attempting to cover up the topic in the room.

"I am," you say with a shrug. "I mean, I've just about seen yours," you gesture to his erection, hidden behind a thin layer of fabric, yet bold enough to make your imagination dance.

"M-Maker," Tech stutters once more. "Where are those pills?"

You laugh as Tech fumbles about with the pill bottle at his side, sliding another one out into the palm of his hand. He doesn't even bother swigging it down with water, dry swallowing the pill like an absolute mad man. "You do know those pills are to ease your pain, right?" you state whilst wrapping another layer around his leg.

"I am certainly in some form of pain. Although I am unsure of the exact type," he sighs, and finally takes a sip of water, correcting his prior mistake.

Biting back a laugh, you suggest, "painfully hard?"

Tech lets out a long and frustrated sigh, meeting your gaze as his shoulders drop in disappointment. "Hilarious," he sarcastically replies, pinching his brow in annoyance.

With a smirk on your lips, you boldly look down at his erection. "It sure seems like you are," you comment, then continue your focus on applying his cast, nearing the end. "You know, sexual pleasure can help ease the pain, and act as a good distraction," you hint, bringing the fact to light. If Tech wants more, then this is his opportunity to take it.

"As delightful as that sounds, penetration would be near impossible in my current state," he gestures to his leg, as if it couldn't be any more obvious.

"There are things that you can do besides penetration, Tech."

Whilst watching you apply the final layer, Tech moves a hand up, fingertips meeting his chin. His brows are furrowed, a sign that he's in deep thought. "You are correct," he hums, before crossing his arms across his chest. "Although I have to question if partaking in such an act will adjust our friendship, and our status within this squad."

"Only if you want it to," you respond, and begin cleaning up, allowing Tech's new cast to dry. "The way I see it, I'm just helping a friend out."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Tech ponders, shifting into deep thought.

Silence fills the air, and yet, you can practically hear Tech's brain ticking away. He's panning everything together, questioning every minor detail, move, motive. Sure, you are helping him out, but wouldn't this lead to other things? Would either of you catch feelings? Have you already caught feelings?

Tech's eyes flick between the pill bottle, and you. He studies you, letting out a soft hum as you tidy up, putting all your equipment away after washing your hands. "I can feel your gaze on me, Tech," you comment, not bothering to look up from your current task.

"Sorry," Tech exhales. "You do have a valid point. This… sexual favour would indeed assist in relieving my pain, yet I cannot accept such a gesture without reciprocating it."

"Let's say that you owe me one, and I can redeem it whenever I see fit," you suggest. You perch yourself on the edge of the medical bed, your form resting against Tech's undamaged thigh. Gently, you tap your fingertips on his cast, testing to see if the material has dried through. "You're all set. So, what do you say?" you offer with a raised brow.

Tech firmly shakes his head in agreement, "I accept your assistance."

"Great," you purr. Your hand comes to rest on his chest, instantly making the man beneath your palm nervous, and he doesn't bother to hide it. "But what do you want me to do, Tech?" you ask, drumming your fingertips against him.

Licking his lips, Tech's eyes wander down to where your hand is resting, before coming up to meet your alluring gaze. "Perhaps you… could possibly…"

"Spit it out," you tut.

"Just… touch me," Tech finally manages to spit his demands out, all whilst looking like he's about to faint. "Your hand alone will be more than suffice," he adds in an apologetic tone, as if he's embarrassed about what has just slipped from his lips.

Eager to see him burst, you ask, "do you want my mouth too?"

"Oh stars."

Tech, the most calm, calculated, and captivating man that you've ever met, is currently turning into putty beneath your fingertips. You've not even touched him, well, at least not in that way, and he looks like he's about to ejaculate at any moment! Maybe it's the pain relief pills that he's taken, or maybe it's because he has a secret crush on you. The answer, you'll never know. All you can do is work with what you've got - a whimpering mess of a man.

"You don't have to answer that yet. Let's just start with my hand," you answer for him. Tech watches through his thick lenses as the hand on his chest begins to trail south, over his lower ribs, across his soft stomach, and now meeting his hips.

Gently, you rest your hand atop of his erection, and Tech just about moans at the minor contact. "I apologise," he sputters, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.

"Don't apologise, I want you to be vocal," you coo. "Well, maybe keep it down a bit, unless you want the others over-hearing?"

Tech shakes his head, then returns his eyes to watching the action. Your strokes are gentle, yet firm, the complete opposite of Tech's rising chest. Is he a virgin? Or has it been a while? Either way, you begin matching his pathetic state once his briefs are adjusted, and Tech's cock is finally free.

"Kriff," you whimper, eyeing up Tech in all his glory. Maker, you weren't expecting such a slender man to be packing so much heat! Sure, it looked rather large when hidden behind his briefs, but now it's here, throbbing in your hand.

You begin pumping his length, slow at first, until finding your rhythm. All the while, Tech is a panting mess, his gaze flicking between your expression, and what's happening between his legs. He all about caves when you slowly trail a blob of spit down onto his tip, lubricating his cock as you continue jerking it.

"This is going to be the death of me," Tech pants. His head rolls back to rest on the headboard, whilst his hands come up to hide his face. He groans into his palms, the odd muscle in his body twitching as pleasure washes through him. When Tech finally does remove his hands from his face, his goggles are on a slight tilt, and surprisingly, he doesn't bother fixing them.

"Oh?" you say with a quirked brow. "I can make things much worse."

"Do enlighten me," Tech suggests, gazing at you through half-lidded eyes.

"How about I show you instead?"

All Tech can do is nod eagerly, yet he fails to prepare himself for what's about to come. (Or who's about to come.)

It's an awkward position, but after readjusting yourself to lie on your side, you manage to make do. Tech's eyes widen as you move your mouth closer to his cock, soon introducing your tongue to the tip. He moans your name, followed by a painful wince.

"Stop putting pressure on your thigh," you look up at him, cock in hand. "That defeats the purpose of my assistance."

In hindsight, you should have propped a pillow beneath his ankle, but something was preventing you from thinking rationally!

Tech mumbles a, "sorry," whilst looking at you with pleading eyes. You know what he wants, and who are you to deny it? You continue introducing your tongue to his tip, his shoulders instantly relaxing at the minor contact.

You soon find yourself sucking the tip, your hand working magic on the rest of his shaft. Already, there's an ache in your jaw, and you silently question how you're going to make this fit… No matter, you'll do what you can, and all efforts seem to be highly appreciated by Tech, who is reaching the state of debauchery as every second passes.

Through the chaos of spit and slobber, a tender hand comes out to rest on the back of your head. The other one finds your free hand, and Tech makes an effort to entwining his fingers with yours. You vocalise your appreciation to his gentle gesture by humming, only that causes Tech to stir. The sensation of vibrations running along his cock earns you another series of pathetic whimpers, and you, being the mischievous devil that you are, decide to only make things harder for him.

Slipping his cock from your lips, you continue pumping the shaft whilst your mouth wanders south. You slip one of his balls in your mouth, gently sucking on it. Tech's mind quite literally explodes! The hand on the back of your head grabs a fistful of your hair, although he is careful as to not hurt you. His other hand, however, removes itself from your palm to grip on the edge of the bed, a desperate attempt at steadying himself.

"Easy boy," you coo, before focusing on his other testicle.

"I c-can't…" Tech sputters. "I cannot hold on any longer, please," he whimpers, begging for what?

"Tell me what you need," you instruct.

"T-To finish… inside your mouth, if you'd be s-so kind," Tech blurts out, his thigh muscles twitching with want. So much for helping ease his pain, hm?

Removing your mouth from him, you peer up to meet his gaze. Tech's hair is askew, loose strands hanging forwards against his flushed face. Desperation is clear in his eyes, although it's laced with warmth and admiration. Tech was right, you two aren't just going to be friends after this, and quite honestly, you're fine with that.

"How can I ever deny you?" you flirt, earning a sigh from Tech. That sigh shifts into a moan as you slip your lips over his tip, and work your mouth to its limit.

Your name is on repeat, drifting from Tech's lips like a prayer. In the back of his mind, he's thanking this strange turn of events. If he wasn't in that war chest, then none of this would have happened, and the pain is most definitely worth it.

A few pumps of Tech's shaft, and he loses himself in the warmth of your mouth. Tech has to remove his hand from your hair to bite his knuckles, a poor attempt of silencing his final moans. The Marauder does not have soundproof walls, so you two will need to come up with a story for when you finally decide to enter the medical wing, and regroup with the Batch.

"Thank you," Tech repeats, over and over, panting as if he's just run a marathon. He looks exhausted, yet you're the one doing all the hard work!

After removing your mouth from his tip, you swallow his load, which only causes Tech to fall even deeper into admiration. "How do you feel?" you ask whilst grabbing the glass of water, left forgotten on the workbench besides the medical bed.

"Euphoric," Tech responds without missing a beat. "The pain was worth it," he adds.

"Are you still in pain?" you ask, offering him what's left of the water.

He swiftly responds, "no," before downing the rest. "You seemed to have worked wonders on me," Tech comments.

You let out a soft chuckle, and rise to your feet, eager to get out of the awkward position. After wiping your mouth dry with a towel, you assist in cleaning Tech up, not that he needs it. It's his leg that's fractured, not his cock, but you're too sweet on the poor man. "You need rest," you comment as you tuck his cock away, putting his unit to bed within the confinement of his briefs.

Tech ponders, and only now does he straighten out his wonky goggles. "I have already asked so much of you, but I have one last request."

"Let's hear it?"

"I… require some assistance with getting to my bunk," Tech sheepishly asks, earning a laugh from you.

"Of course I'll help you with that!"

It's quite the task, seeing as Tech has the upper hand when it comes to height, but you manage to help him to his feet, swinging an arm across your neck for extra stability. You turn to leave the medical wing, until something crosses your mind. Gesturing to the pain relief pills, you state, "you'll probably be needing these."

A smug grin creeps over Tech's lips. "Oh, I don't think I will," he flirts. This time, you're the one blushing, yet you agree with his statement.

Hobbling down the Marauder, Tech's cabin soon comes to your reach, and before you know it, you're helping him into bed. Thank the Maker that the others have retired for the night, hopefully none of them heard that!

After removing Tech's shirt, a pillow is placed under his ankle, providing extra comfort throughout the night. You retrieve him a glass of water, re-entering his cabin to see that he's tucked himself under the covers, his goggles lying on the bedside table.

"Do you need anything else?" you offer, soon expecting to be in your own bunk. It has been a long day, and you're oh-so-eager for your own rest.

"Actually, I was thinking…" Tech trails off, which causes you to raise your brow. "Surely you should spend the night here with me? You know, in case I require support throughout the night-"

"-I know what you're hinting at, Tech," you say with a light laugh, shaking your head at him. "You don't need an excuse, but sure, we can use that when the others ask why I'm leaving your cabin tomorrow morning."

Tech chuckles, watching eagerly as you strip down into your underwear, soon joining him in bed. You're greeted by his stretched out arm, offering you a cuddle, which you gladly accept, all whilst keeping his injury in mind.

"Goodnight, Tech," you exhale, resting your hand on his chest as your head finds its place within the curve of his neck.

"Goodnight," Tech repeats, holding you tightly.

"And remember, I owe you…"

[minecraftbookshelf]

After the End: Angst Version

Hello! You have found the angsty version of this ficlet! The Original (Dark) Comedy version is HERE

-

The wall disappeared.

fWhip isn't exactly sure when it disappeared, he thinks he might have dozed off, tucked in among the scattered blocks and between the gravestones of his friends.

But at some point the wall disappeared and the rain cleared and fWhip woke up to sunshine and blue skies in an empty world.

A few of the animals are still wandering around. One of Sausage's blood sheep is off in the distant trees and the chickens seem altogether unbothered by recent events. Mooshy is peacefully gracing off towards the Winchester. fWhip just stands there, wet jacket, wet pants, wet shoes, and, worst of all, wet socks, and stares up at the messy, frantic stacks of blocks made by a bunch of players like rats in a trap. Fish in a barrel.

The tombstones around him pulse, the purple beacon-like light shooting off into the air, before it fades away again.

Katherine's stone-carved face stares judgily back at him.

Spawn is a mess.

He starts with Kathrine's dirt shelter at the opening of the spawn courtyard. It's easy to take down. Then he gets to work. It takes a few hours, chipping away at the different materials placed in a panic.

He clears up his own pillar of diamond blocks, and Scott's stone one beside it. Mog's gravestone watches.

Dirt and wool and diamond ore and iron blocks and the mis-matched contents of a near-dozen inventories.

Eventually, finally, it is done. The only things left are the shattered remains of the floating obelisk that had been there since they first set foot on the server and the silent witnesses. Shubble and Katherine and Eloise and Owen and Pix on the ground, Mog's so high he can barely see it and, somewhere above it all, out of sight, Scott.

Scott who had looked him in the eyes and flown up into the storm rather than stay.

He wanders back towards the Winchester, walking under Sausage's tombstone and refusing to look towards Oli's. He gives Mooshy a pet on the nose as the passes and trudges up the stairs. Shubble's charged creeper head is still on the noteblock inside.

He sits on the porch.

The sun sinks, and sets, and rises, and still he sits.

It's almost midday when he hears the sound of rockets overhead.

It's not curiosity that drives him to his feet, its something much more numb than that.

They're at spawn, the person who flew in. He can hear them talking to themself before he makes it to the top of the stairs.

One more step and he's able to see.

"fWhip!" Joey bounces away from the graves and towards him. "Everyone else is dead, we won!"

He throws an arm over fWhip's shoulder, beaming directly in his face. fWhip squints back.

"It's just you and me, together forever!"

Joey chatters on, listing plans for ways to remember everyone and about how at least nothing was damaged and fWhip peers up at the sky, towards where he knows Scott's gravestone is.

Eventually, Joey notices his silence and pulls back just a little to look at him. "Are you okay?"

fWhip doesn't say anything. He can barely hear Joey over the roar in his ears anyway.

"fWhip, are you okay? What happened?"

His fingers wrap around something. Cold and familiar.

"fWhip, you're scaring me-"

A choke. A gasp. A gurgle.

fWhip lets go of his sword hilt and back up as Joey slumps over on top of Pix's gravestone for a second before vanishing completely, replaced by yet another monument.

He looks up at the shattered obelisk and somehow, despite the bright light of day, the galactic runes seem reflected in his eyes.

If there was anyone there to see them.

-

AO3 link in the notes

[soldieronbarnes]

Kinktober #1 -- Humiliation, hair pulling

Joining kinktober super late, but if you have any prompts, just drop them in my ask box!!

“Look at you,” Obi-Wan says, and his voice is so full of derision that Anakin squirms, gasping, tears welling up in his eyes. His Master so rarely resorts to contempt, hates having to do so, he knows, and he knows he deserves the scorn, he does, after defying his Master so openly, so carelessly, in front of a Galactic senator no less.

Usually, his Master is so, so gentle and understanding, unless Anakin pushes him too far, and he did – he pushed him too far, knowingly, and he wonders if Obi-Wan knows that it’s a punishment as well a a reward, the way his Padawan braid if wrapped tightly in Obi-Wan’s fist like it’s a leash, the way red blooms around the shape of his Master’s hand on his bottom and makes everything more sensitive, the way the pace of his cock against Anakin’s prostate is just this side of too much too fast, pushing the air out of his lungs and making his spine bend and melt into the movement. 

“Look at you,” Obi-Wan repeats disdainfully. “You think you can defy me? You think you are ready to be a Knight?” 

He tugs harshly at the braid, and Anakin whines. “Master – Master, I’m –”

“Look at you,” Obi-Wan snarls. “You’re so needy, so desperate for a good fuck. You can’t go three days without panting for it like a dog. You go any longer without anyone fucking your brains out and you turn stupid, unable to formulate any clearly thought out plan, as you demonstrated today. And you want to be a Knight?”

Anakin keens. He needs Obi-Wan to fuck him harder, to evaporate any coherent thought. “Master, Master, please –”

Cruelly, Obi-Wan slows his thrusts until they are shallow, the movement barely noticeable. “A Knight is self-sufficient. A Knight is selfless, serving the people of the Republic. A Knight doesn’t want or need anything.” 

He leans down, plastering himself to Anakin, chest to chest, and whispers in his ear. Anakin grasps the opportunity to wrap his legs around him and kiss him, panting against his lips when Obi-Wan pulls back. 

“A Knight is separated from his Master, because he can be trusted to act on his own. Do you think you can be trusted to be on your own, away from me for months and months? You can’t,” he says. “Look at how much you need direction, how much you need a cock in you. You get stupid when someone doesn’t fuck you right for a few days. What are you going to do when you are apart from me, hm? Are you going to doom entire civilisations because you are horny and stupid? Are you going to just fuck anyone to keep you in check? Are you going to be happy hanging off the first thick cock you find?”

“I wouldn’t,” he cries, hot tears running down his cheeks. “I wouldn’t, Master!”

“Yes, you would. You’re so hungry for it. You’d let anyone fuck you, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t”, Anakin protests.

“My pretty little liar,” Obi-Wan croons. “You think you can think straight without getting fucked? How will you complete missions on your own, then? Tell me.”

“I’d make a replica of your cock and fuck myself with it,” Anakin gasps, because there’s no line in the sand he hasn’t relished in stepping over. It’s the perfect solution, too; he’d get to go on his own missions without missing anything. 

To his surprise, Obi-Wan just laughs. “You think all you need is the shape of my cock, and that will save you?” he asks. He pulls out, wrestles Anakin on his belly before he can protest, and lets the head of his cock kiss Anakin’s hole. “Go on, then. If you think you don’t need me, just my cock – prove it. Get yourself off.”

And Anakin – well, he tries. The instructions are simple enough, and the position he’s in allows for a decent range of movement. He starts slow and sinuous, and ends up with a quick and brutal pace, and it should be enough – enough to entice Obi-Wan to move, to touch him in any way, enough to get off – but it isn’t, and soon enough he’s sobbing with need. He can’t rock back onto Obi-Wan’s cock at a satisfying angle, not quickly enough, not when he’s trying to strip his cock with his hand, and he’s so, so, close, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not enough. 

“Let me ride you,” he begs. 

His Master snorts. “You think that’ll help you?” he asks, but he lies down on his back, pulling Anakin on top of him, surprisingly indulgent. “There you go. Try your best.”

The taunting challenge in his voice makes Anakin set a quick, rough pace, because he can do this, he can  – except Obi-Wan refuses to touch him, crosses his hands behind his back and allows Anakin to use him, but won’t even put his hands on him; won’t touch his cock, won’t grip his hips in those wonderful broad hands of his that can span so much of Anakin’s waist, won’t tease his nipples of pull his hair like he usually does and it’s – it’s torture, is what it is. Anakin rides him until his thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably, until tears are rolling down his face and the gasping breaths he takes turn into shaking sobs. 

He’s so, so close, still, but he cannot fall over the edge, no matter what he does.

“Master,” he begs, “Master, please, I want to come –”

“And why,” Obi-Wan asks, “do you think you always deserve to get what you want?”

A desperate whine escapes him. “Please, I promise I’ll be better, I’ll be good –”

“Will you? Will you be good so you can be a Knight? So you can be trusted, away from me?”

“No,” Anakin gasps. “I’ll be good for you, I will, but please don’t send me away, I need you, I need you –”

And finally, finally, that’s the right answer. Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s hands are on his hips, the grip tight and bruising, holding Anakin still as his hips piston up into the scorching heat of his hole, the pace fast and relentless and unforgiving and finally, finally enough. Anakin comes with a silent scream, spine bowed and fingernails raking visible trails down the fair skin of Obi-Wan’s chest. He thinks he blacks out for a second, and when he comes to, he’s half collapsed on his Master’s chest, his cock still moving in and out of him at a brutal pace, making him shudder with the aftershocks of pleasure. 

“Give it to me,” he whines, speech slurred with how good it feels. “Master, come inside me, mark me, please, give it to me, show everyone I’m yours!”

Obi-Wan curses under his breath, and before Anakin can even parse his words, he’s dumped unceremoniously onto his back, and he could cry at the sudden emptiness. 

“I’ll mark you, for everyone to see,” Obi-Wan promises, his voice dark and heated, kneeling over Anakin and stripping his cock quickly, wildly, and Anakin keens when he realizes what’s about to happen. 

“Yes, yes Master, please –” He barely has time to open his mouth before the first thick, hot stripes of come coat his face and tongue, his neck and chest and –

“Look at this,” Obi-Wan says, tugging at his Padawan braid. That, too, is covered in white strands of his Master’s come. Anakin whimpers when he sees it, and despite himself, he feels his cock twitch with interest. “Do you know what that means?”

“I’m yours,” Anakin whispers, his voice hoarse. “It means I’m yours.”

Finally, finally, Obi-Wan softens. “Good boy,” he praises, and leans down to kiss him, and everything else fades away. 

[lokvadnod]

Hi there! I just found this blog and omg I've found my people lol. I just read your response to an ask requesting how one of our yautja boys would react to their human going down on them for the first time, which was incredibly hot and also hilarious, and I had to ask - do you envision the same sort of reaction from a female yautja? Because not to get too into it here in your asks unprompted - but if there's one way this gal wants to go out its with her head between Those Thighs TM

You and I are in the same boat, friend. (Says a creepy voice from the shadows as I rise from the grave with this post lol)

(My take on this with a male yautja can be found here.)

I kinda feel like a female Yautja would be a lot more calm, a lot more logical, and way more permissive from the jump. A Yautja female doesn't have to worry about an appendage being gnawed off, and she certainly doesn't have any perturbation about your oral structure, as dull and unthreatening as it looks. I don't think female-receiving oral is a big thing for Yautja, (though it's far more probable than its male counterpart) but maybe they engage in tongue action from time to time with their own species. I do, however, think that the idea of lips, blunt teeth, and a wider, much smoother tongue would interest a female yautja enough to make her want to try it from the minute the topic is raised...

Mature content below the cut

Terrifying could be a very fitting adjective for your situation for some. A less seasoned human in the fine art of romancing deadly extraterrestrials would probably have bowed out long before now, before a massive, clawed hand could find purchase on the back of your fragile, tiny head.

She's 8 and a half feet of nothing but thew and venom. More muscle than you've ever seen packed onto a curvy frame, with muscular pectorals and the nicest ass and hips you've ever seen. And it's all wrapped in a pretty package of dappled greens and browns, textured skin pulled over the planes of her body in such a right way that it isn't fair.

She's absolutely gorgeous... you know, in her own viscerally terrifying way.

Currently a grunting, growling mess, all teeth and fire-eyes as she writhes beneath you, she's even more alluring. Like a needy predator with deadly claws, she grinds just this side of too hard into your face with a rolling insistence that sparks at your need to provide and please her, wanton enough to inspire a succinct pride within you that you are the source of such a massive, intimidating galactic predator's pleasure.

"Right there." She grits through her teeth, somehow making it sound like a plea and a demand in one. Tree trunk thighs tighten around your head, careful not to pop it like a too-ripe watermelon, and she goes completely still.

Convergent evolution - if such concepts can be applied interplanetarily- is a magnificent thing. Darwin, or what dust is left of him after those centuries past, should be doing backflips in his grave...

In two beats, she's gone, mewling to the stars on the other side of the tempered window in wild bursts of feral pleasure, praying to her brutal gods in a fraternal echo of any human ever to be in her position. Every muscle, previously taut enough that it felt like you could be doing unspeakable things to a boulder, whips along the complete axis of it's motion, spasming in wild bursts of pleasure. As she comes down, panting and growling, she goes limp, only exerting enough energy to haul you up along her frame so you can rest atop her.

On your lips, linger the alien taste of her release, like something not quite familiar enough for a name or a likeness. Gently, she caresses you, tapered claws trailing up and down your back as you rise and fall in time with her massive chest.

"You..." she pants, and you're struck anew with pride at how unraveled you can get her, gruff and unmovable as she usually is. "You are quite skilled with that mouth of yours."

Compliments as such are not unheard of from her but they do fall sparingly and so you soak this one up with a grin. Those shark-like eyes that you've grown to love wander over your face, mapping the topography as if trying to discern for herself what makes your facial structure so pleasurable.

"Consider my ego stroked," you joke, and those eyes swipe up to bore into yours.

"You would like something else stroked." It's not a question, it's a statement she knows to be true and she gives you no time to answer before she rolls and she's on top of you.

Already breathless, you chuckle and bloom beneath her, body spreading under her wandering claws that you know from experience she can use so skillfully...

[sweetrevxnge]

Like Phantoms, Forever

Chapter Eighteen | The Devil In My Bloodstream

Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader

Summary: Your destiny had never been clear to you, only becoming so when it led you to leaving behind the life you knew to train with the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. His Jedi Academy became your new home, bringing with it the promise of someday becoming a Jedi Knight.While navigating the ways of the Force, an inexplicable connection forms between you and a fellow student—the heir to the legendary Skywalker bloodline, Ben Solo. Together, the two of you must face your destinies and forge the path to your true selves.

What to expect: fluff, violence, sexual content, general angst, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

Additional info: this story is set in 28 ABY, six years prior to the events of TFA

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Masterlist

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Word count: 5.2k

Chapter-specific CW: NSFW, pharmaceutical drugs, mentions of death

A/N: let's all just pretend that this chapter didn't take me two months to write... anyways let's get into it yuh!

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��So… Do you want to talk about it?”

Ben had made himself comfortable beside you on the small cot, the two of you laying back with your legs hanging off the edge. Well, at least your legs were—the same couldn’t be said for his exceptionally long limbs. His thumb rubbed soft circles on the back of your hand, and despite being left alone by 4-3B for nearly an hour now, you still feared being seen.

His question rolled around in your head. “It” was all you were thinking about—your father, your mother, the resurgence of the Empire. The relief you felt from the conversation with Master Skywalker was fleeting, now a daunting task once again. But a tiny voice in your head assured you that you were safe. Ben wasn’t just some acquaintance. He hadn’t shied away from discussing the dark side before, and after everything you had gone through, you couldn’t imagine him starting now. Although, you weren’t sure how much insight he would have on amatter this grim.

You sighed, twisting your neck to face him. “Not particularly.”

His eyes mapped your face, starting at your mouth before slowly moving up to your eyes. They were intense, filled with an indiscernible emotion.

“I know it’s still fresh, so if you don’t want to–”

“No,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose to soothe the headache building behind your eyes. “I probably should. Avoiding it will only make things worse.”

The blankets draped over your lap shifted as you pushed yourself up to a sitting position. Ben followed, his hand quickly finding yours again.

With a deep breath, you attempted to untangle your thoughts and wrap them into a tidy coil. After a moment, you realized that you didn’t know what to say, as if every word in all the galactic languages had escaped you.

“I don’t really know what to say. It’s all so much.” Heat rushed to your face, chased by adrenaline at the memory of the dart piercing your neck. Instinctively, you lifted your hand to touch the spot, finding a small bandage in its place.

Ben squeezed your hand. “Would it help if I went first?”

You nodded. Despite your earlier eavesdropping, you were completely attentive.

“Well, let’s see,” he started, running his free hand through his thick hair. “I was in bed, just about to fall asleep, when suddenly, I saw you.” He looked over at you with an amused smile. “Not how I usually picture you when I’m alone in bed, though.”

Your cheeks burned, a familiar heat blooming in your stomach. His comment derailed your thoughts, redirecting them to build an image of him: bare chest peeking out from his robes, messy hair, eyes squeezed shut in concentration as his hand crept lower, pulling down the waistband of his pants—

The drone of the monitor recording your pulse grew louder, and you cursed your heart for misbehaving. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his satisfied smile.

“Threebee can hear us, you know,” you said in a hushed tone.

“Relax. Worst-case scenario, I’ll just pick apart his brain—or circuit board, I should say.” He winked at you, to which you rolled your eyes. “But as I was saying, I was just about to fall asleep, and for a moment I thought I had. Everything felt like a dream—until it didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but in my dreams, I’m… sentient. Involved in the story in some way. This was different. It felt like I was an audience member watching a scene play out in front of me.”

Like a vision, you thought. “What exactly did you see?”

His brows creased. “Everything you didn’t.”

You were quiet, piecing the two conversations together. From what he told Master Skywalker, his vision began after you were unconscious, which would explain why he only saw you being taken away.

“I panicked. I tried to pull myself out of it to get to you, but it was like I was frozen in place, forced to watch it play out.” Heavy emotion filled his eyes. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there sooner.”

A pang struck your heart. “Don’t be,” you whispered, working up a small smile. Just like Master Skywalker, this wasn’t his burden to bear.

He ignored your request, rolling through to his next thought. “When the vision finally let go of me, I ran to your hut, hoping that it was only a nightmare. But when I found your bed completely empty, I felt…” He paused, his knuckles white as he squeezed his hands together, holding them up to his mouth. “Afraid. More than I’d ever been in my entire life.”

“That makes two of us,” you said, half-joking. The guilt from earlier was becoming heavier with each word he spoke, further proof that this entire ordeal had caused more anguish than you realized. In an effort to move past the sinking feeling in your gut, you asked, “How did you end up finding me?”

At that, Ben tensed. He must have known you would ask eventually, but you hadn’t expected him to be so hesitant when you did. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Up until yesterday, there were many things that you wouldn't believe. Certainly not that the Empire had been growing in the shadow of the New Republic for years, slowly spreading throughout the galaxy like a malignancy, or that your father was secretly a fascist who had spent his entire life serving that same institution. Nor would you believe that your peaceful childhood was a complete sham, or rather, a carefully crafted illusion of a picturesque family to hide the true nature of your father’s business. Least of all, you couldn't fathom the possibility that your connection to the Force was a precious commodity, precious enough to drive someone insane in the pursuit of exploiting it.

Master Skywalker was right. Perhaps some meditation would serve you well.

You scoffed. “Try me.”

When he finally spoke, his tone was low—enough to send a chill running down your spine. “I heard a voice. It felt familiar, but I can’t explain how—only that it was cold and harsh. In my panic, I trusted it, and it led me to Zeffo. To you.”

Your mouth parted in disbelief. What he described sounded like the voices you heard when you touched the dark stone. “Ben–”

“I promise that I’m not crazy–”

“No, you’re not.” Gently, you cupped his cheek and turned him to face you. His eyes were a storm, glassy and clouded with a familiar darkness. He needed to know that he wasn’t alone. “And if you are, then so am I. When I connect with the darkness, I hear it, too.”

He shook his head dismissively. “No. This is different. This has followed me for as long as I can remember.”

Unsure what to say, you remained quiet, trying to process what he was telling you. As curious as you were to know more about this mysterious voice, you also didn’t want to pry. “I didn’t mean to–”

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, barely audible over the thrum of blood rushing in your ears. “No, no, it’s okay. All that matters is that it helped me find you.”

The air felt heavy, settling uncomfortably between you. He was guarded, and despite his assurance, you could tell that there was much more to this story. The walls surrounding him were resilient, but they were no match for your persistence.

“What did it say?” you asked, inching closer to him as you rested your hand on his forearm. This had always worked in the past—whether it was draping a hand over his shoulder or winding your leg around his, albeit with much less significant topics. Just like most men, Ben wasn’t immune to a gentle touch.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his lips pressed tight together. “I don’t remember.”

His answer reeked of bantha shit. You only hummed in response, knowing that any effort to extract the truth would likely be futile. As much as you would have liked to know more, you weren’t necessarily keen on starting an argument over it.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. You couldn’t help but wonder why he chose to withhold the details of what he heard.

Ben broke the silence. “Look, we can talk about this another time if you’d like. Right now, I’m more concerned about you.”

“Do you trust me?” The question burst free from your chest, as if you would implode if you didn’t release it. Though, now that the question was hanging in the air, you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer.

He was quiet again, dark eyes flitting between yours. With every second that passed, you could feel your heart cracking, ready to shatter at a moment’s notice.

“Of course I do,” he said finally. “In fact, you might be the only person I trust.”

You blinked. Of all the answers he could have given you, that was the last one you would have expected. And because of that, it felt genuine.

Before you could say anything, he posed a follow-up question. “Do you trust me?”

Shame burned your cheeks. This was the right thing to do. Ben was your person, the only person you had ever let in. Without hesitation, he had flown across the galaxy to find you and bring you to safety. So, why did you fear his judgment? Deep in your heart, you knew the truth. It had been there all along, and despite your efforts to bury it, it would remain there forever, floating at the surface until you acknowledged it.

“More than anything,” you whispered.

He planted a soft kiss on your cheek. “Then talk to me, princess.”

Like a layer of ice in the sunlight, you cracked. A lump rose in your throat as the words formed on your tongue. “My dad was the mastermind behind all of this. He used the Empire’s tracking technology to find the Academy, then sent a group of mercenaries to kidnap me.”

Ben’s eyes widened, but he remained silent. You weren’t sure what reaction you expected. Disappointment maybe—or worse, disgust—but found neither. With a sigh, you continued, “I didn’t know that he was capable of doing something like this. He kept his past hidden from my mom and I, using his agriculture business as a front for his work with the Empire—or what remained of it.”

He furrowed his brows, processing each word. “Wait—your dad works for the Empire?”

You nodded, staring at the torn skin around your fingernails from mindless picking. “Was,” you answered, ripping another strip of skin from your thumb, causing a small drop of blood to form on the exposed tissue.“He was working for the Empire. Not anymore.”

“So, what, he had a sudden change of heart?”

There was no coming back from this. No amount of backtracking or lies could undo a confession of this magnitude. But he had made a promise to you on his ship, a promise that everything would be okay. Now, with his hand resting on your knee, you placed your faith in his promise.

“No. He's dead.” You let out a shaky breath to settle the nerves rolling through you. "I... killed him."

The silence that followed was suffocating, yet he didn’t pull his hand away from yours or stand up to leave. Instead, he just watched you, his eyes searching yours.

Hiding from his gaze, you continued. “I killed him after he told me that he executed my mom, all because she sent me to the Academy, to safety.” A warm tear rolled down your cheek at the memory. “He showed no remorse for what he did, even saying that killing her was like putting a sick animal out of its misery.”

At that, Ben's jaw clenched, his stoic expression morphing into something angry and cold, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. “What a fucking bastard.”

“He was never like this before,” you mumbled, now pressed against the rough fabric of Ben’s robes. “But hearing him say that awakened something horrible inside me. It possessed me—a terrible, cold energy that wanted nothing more than to inflict pain.” You paused, pulling away from him. “I felt it, Ben—the dark side of the Force. It flowed through me, used me like a puppet of its will.” Your voice had softened to a whisper. An echo of the Force rang in your mind; the intensity of it, the power that claimed your father’s life. Your mouth went dry. “I’m a monster.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t say that,” he said, tightening his grip around you. “You did what you had to do to survive. That doesn’t make you a monster—that makes you human.”

You wanted to argue with him, tell him that allowing the darkness to consume you was weak and against everything the Jedi represent. But you didn’t. You were walking through quicksand, sinking further into grief as you told the story.

“If you say so.”

“Yes, I do say so. What he did to you and your mother was terrible and not something that anyone—let alone his child—should have to endure. You had every right to do what you did.”

Guilt, again. Each time he defended you, the lump lodged in your throat grew, slowly closing off your airway.

“You’re right,” you mumbled in the hopes that by agreeing, this discussion would conclude quickly. You sucked in a long breath to settle the acid churning in your stomach. “I’m just thankful that he didn’t hurt anyone else. It makes me sick to think about what could’ve happened if they had attacked the entire Academy.”

Ben hummed in agreement. “I think there are a few people here who could’ve benefitted from being thrown into a fight.”

“Like who?” you asked, suppressing a light laugh. His wit never failed to make you smile—even in a moment like this.

“I think you know who,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at you. “The same people who are dying to visit you.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him playfully. “Well, too bad. You’re the only person I want to see.”

“Not even Tai?”

“Especially not Tai.” The thought of having to talk to anyone besides Ben right now made you nauseous. Who else could understand what you went through other than the person who pulled you out of it? All the sympathy in the world couldn’t compare to the fleeting peace you felt sitting next to him.

Another question crossed your mind. What did it mean? What did it mean that Ben was the only person you found comfort in? The only person that was able to calm and excite your heart at the same time. 

This was insane. No, worse than that—pure delusion. An amalgamation of chemicals designed to turn even the coldest hearts into an inferno. A fool’s curse to fall for it despite knowing the truth. Yet, here you were, flying through the air as you plummeted to the ground. You had known all along—before you kissed him in front of the fire or sat beside him as the stars bled through the night sky. There was no comfort in knowing, only profound heartache. The Jedi Code had deceived you. Under its rule, there was no affection—only devotion. A hollow devotion to the light.

You couldn’t sit with him in front of a hearth in a space leased to the two of you, one of the many rooms in the highrises overlooking the hyperlanes of Coruscant. You couldn’t wrap your arms around his neck and listen as he shared the details of his day. You couldn’t move with him to the grassy plains of Dantooine, or to the lake country of Naboo—a decision that would be determined by the number of credits you could scrape together. But most of all, you couldn’t grow old with him. Watch as the years warped your faces and grayed your hair. Until the day came that you were forced to face this same heartache once again.

It was a fantasy.

“Baby…” Ben’s voice floated through the air, pulling you from your reverie. He wiped his thumb over your cheek, smearing warm tears over your skin. “Talk to me.”

You looked up, searching his eyes until the image of him became blurry. Your heart rattled your ribs as you gathered the courage to say it—the three words that had been burning your tongue for months. But as you opened your mouth to speak, the machine dispensing your medicine beeped, singing a series of cheery notes to announce that the dose was complete.

As the faint squealing of 4-3B’s joints grew closer, you and Ben reflexively jumped away from each other. You cleared your throat, erasing any evidence of your confession as the droid came into view, its triangular eyes fixated on the empty medicine bag.

“This was the last infusion of the day, miss. I suggest you rest now,” 4-3B said as it powered down the machine before hobbling towards a control panel and turning off the overhead lights.

Moonlight poured in through the blinds, washing the marble floors in a cool white. What you wouldn’t give to go for a midnight walk right now. To breathe in the crisp air and listen to the hum of insects. But instead of ripping out the line in your arm and rushing out into the night, you yawned and folded your legs up to your chest. The darkness of the room illuminated just how exhausted you were—both physically and emotionally. 

Ben sighed, somehow immune to the contagious nature of yawns. “Sounds like the princess needs her beauty rest. I should probably let you sleep.”

Thankful that he didn’t return to the previous topic, you matched his tone and narrowed your eyes at him. “You don’t mean that.”

He smiled. “No, I don’t.”

From behind the curtain, 4-3B chimed in, “You are more than welcome to stay in the spare cot, Master Solo. I can gather a fresh set of sheets for you if you’d like.”

A devilish look flashed in his eyes. “Oh, really? That sounds wonderful, Threebee.”

“Don’t,” you mouthed. The last thing either of you needed was Master Skywalker to find out that Ben stayed overnight in the infirmary.

He pressed his finger against his lips as if to say shhh. “I have an idea,” he mouthed. A knot formed in your stomach.

“It would be my pleasure, Master Solo. I hardly see why I should separate two friends after such terrible events,” 4-3B answered earnestly.

“That’s very kind of you.” Ben reached forward, grabbing the near-empty water pitcher from the side table. “Oh and before you go, can you refill her water?”

You sank further into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, watching in horrified awe as Ben’s brilliant plan played out.

“Of course,” the droid said, returning to the side of your bed with a stack of sheets balanced in one of its hands. As it turned and reached for the pitcher, Ben leaned forward, deftly unplugging a thin wire connecting to the base of the droid’s neck.

Immediately, its entire frame went slack. The bedding fell from its hands and onto the floor as the light drained from its eyes.

“Ben!” you gasped, scrambling towards the edge of the bed. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Possibly,” he said, pushing the rigid droid behind the curtain. “If anything happens, I’ll boot him back up. But for now…” He hoisted himself back onto the bed and squeezed next to you, making the already small space even tighter. “It’s just us.”

The tension in your shoulders dissipated. There was a hummingbird in your heart, its tiny wings beating harder than ever before. His fingers trailed down your spine, tracing over the thin material of your gown. Your skin burned under his touch.

“Unless you’d prefer to be alone,” he said, settling his hand on your lower back.

“No, not at all.” You moved closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder. “Especially since you deactivated my only other company.”

He chuckled. “Good. Because I don’t think I can ever sleep without you now.”

“Oh,” you said softly. You supposed you felt the same way. The only reason you had managed to sleep on the Grimtaash was because Ben was with you—even if he was in the pilot’s seat. As for the previous night, you had 4-3B’s drug cocktail to thank for your uninterrupted slumber.

Resting your head on his chest now, you wrapped your uninjured arm around his waist. His heart was steady and strong in your ear, a hypnotic rhythm that you could get lost in. “Neither can I.”

Ben’s hand crept around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Even through the layers of robes, he was radiating heat—like a furnace with too much coal. Glancing up, you noticed that his eyes were closed, and despite the dull ache in your arm being pinned against his body, you stayed there, counting the muffled beats in the hope that they would lull you to sleep.

The cool night air bled into the infirmary, and without a medical droid to bring you fresh, warmed blankets, you were beginning to lose what little heat your body had left. Then, a wicked thought crossed your mind. Just like the night under the stars, you slid your cold hands under Ben’s robes, holding them against his stomach. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation.

“A little warning would be nice,” he said, his eyes still closed.

You hummed, relishing in the warmth spreading through your fingers. “What did Threebee say about me staying warm?”

“Mmm, something about your body temperature being too low. I can’t imagine why—considering what you’re wearing.” He cracked his eyes open to look at you, appraising the sheer gown you were wearing.

“Hey! It’s not my fault that this is the only thing that Threebee’s letting me wear.”

He snickered. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time.” At that, he sat up, effectively pushing you aside as he untied his robes, undressing until only his underwear remained. “There,” he said as he settled back into the bed, pulling the pile of blankets over you both in the process. “Now you can steal as much of my body heat as you’d like.”

"Don't mind if I do," you said as you turned to lie on your other side—the one that hadn't had a blaster bolt fire through it. Ben silently followed, snaking a hand around your stomach and pulling you against him. You squirmed a bit, trying to find a comfortable position in the small bed. After a few minutes of adjusting, you came to the realization that it wasn't the bed or the fact that you were sharing it with such a tall person that was preventing you from sleeping—it was the image of your dead father, seemingly burned into your eyes every time you closed them. Without the aid of medicine, you were wide awake.

For a moment, you considered jumping out of bed and fixing 4-3B’s wires, hoping that he could give you something to ease you to sleep. Unfortunately, Ben’s strong arms locked around you quashed those aspirations. You continued to wiggle in his grasp—as if doing so would magically make the bed more comfortable or erase the memory from your vision.

“You know, it would be easier to fall asleep if you weren’t moving so much,” Ben mumbled in your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin.

By the sound of it, he hadn’t fallen asleep either. You didn’t feel as guilty for squirming anymore. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Not to mention that this is the first night without a sleep aid.”

“Hmmm, I see,” he whispered as his hand inched down your stomach, stopping at the fabric of your underwear. “Would it help if I distracted you?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, as well as between your legs. Was this wrong to do? The infirmary seemed like the last place in the galaxy you’d want to do something like this, but the feeling of Ben’s fingers sliding beneath your underwear effectively pushed aside your logic.

“There’s only one way to find out,” you answered, holding back the desperate breaths threatening to leave your throat as he began drawing circles over your clit.

“I’d be more than happy to,” he whispered. His other hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your jaw up to face him. “Just tell me what you want.”

Before you could answer, he captured your lips in a kiss as slow as honey. Gooseflesh erupted across your skin as his fingers continued to work. If there was one thing you were not expecting about surviving a near-death experience, it was this. The way your body ignited at the touch of someone you thought you would never see again. Being held in his arms made your head spin, dizzy on endorphins. Even more intoxicating was the feeling of his erection pressing into you.

“How’s that, baby?” he asked, his lips moving down your neck. 

It was splendid, incredible. But instead of detailing how his fingers were quickly pushing you towards release, all that came out was a string of soft moans. 

A low groan rumbled in his throat in return, his hips rolling into yours. The hand around your neck crept down your chest, gently squeezing your breast. The pressure building in your belly grew as he rolled your nipple between his fingers, erasing any thought from your mind that wasn’t about the pleasure wracking your body. This certainly cured your restless mind.

“Just like that. You feel so fucking good,” you panted, arching your back into his hips. The sensation of him against your ass was delicious, making you crave more.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm…” You were completely lost in his touch, a puddle of flesh and bones in his arms.

His lips grazed the shell of your ear as he whispered in a sinful, low tone, “Are you going to come for me?”

That alone was nearly enough to send you over the edge. You nodded, grinding into his hand, greedy for more. Slowly, one of his fingers teased your entrance, barely dipping into the warmth of your cunt.

“Okay, next question,” he said, his lips curling into a smile against your skin. “Do you want to come now or wait until I’m fucking you?”

“The… second… one…” You pushed the words out between shallow breaths, focused on the inferno blazing in your core. The string was about to snap, sending you towards pure bliss, but before you could chase it, Ben pulled his hand away to free his cock from his underwear. 

“Pull your panties down,” he growled as he fumbled with his shorts. 

Head spinning, you obeyed, biting down on your lip as you willed your injured arm to cooperate. You managed to kick the fabric off and returned to your former position, sticking your ass out for him. The ache between your legs was becoming vicious—nearly painful. You were half-tempted to finish with your own hand, but before you could, Ben aligned himself with you, dragging his cock back and forth over your cunt before pushing inside.

A low groan rumbled in his throat as he rocked his hips slowly, his hand migrating to grab your hip. His lips seared your skin as they moved down your neck, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses. “Fuck, I missed you.” His words were soft but powerful—like butterfly wings beating through the air. Coupled with his steady thrusts, you couldn’t help but wonder what meaning he had assigned to them.

“I missed you, too,” you said, twisting your neck to see him. With eyes squeezed shut and lips parted, he looked like an incarnation of divinity. Your heart flipped in your chest.

Mustering up all of your strength, you reached up and cupped his face, fingers grazing his cheekbone. A familiar feeling clawed its way to the forefront of your mind, a feeling you didn’t dare say aloud—let alone right now.

Just then, Ben’s eyes fluttered open. You shoved the thought back into the depths of your mind. Darkness consumed his brown irises, but his gaze was soft. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” he muttered before pressing his lips against yours.

As he kissed you, his fingers returned to their previous work, igniting the fire in your belly once more. You moaned into his mouth at the sensation, relishing how your skin buzzed as he fucked you slowly.

Long, soft breaths left your lips, and as he added pressure to your desperate clit, the blinding white light of ecstasy pierced your vision—distant, but clear. You chased it, your heart hammering against your ribs as it drew closer. “Don’t stop, I’m so close–”

Ben’s pace quickened as he neared his own high, pinning you against his chest. “I won’t baby—shit, you’re so fucking tight.”

Within you, the coil snapped. Your body was alight with pleasure, head rolling back into Ben’s chest as waves of bliss rolled through you. Endorphins flooded the blank space of your mind, staining your vision with vibrant colors. His breath grew ragged as he continued to fuck you, his thrusts becoming uneven as you clenched around his cock, sending him over the edge.

He buried his face in your neck as he came, obscenities tumbling from his lips as ecstasy ripped through him. Still riding the aftershocks of euphoria, your body pulsed as he peppered kisses along your shoulder, his cock twitching inside you. Your ragged breaths mixed with his as the two of you laid there, swimming in pure satisfaction.

You wrapped your fingers around his hand that was resting on your chest, squeezing it as you whispered, “I don’t know what I would do without you, either.”

“Hmm?” By the tone of his response, it didn’t seem like he had misheard you, but rather that he didn’t understand what you meant. 

As he tucked himself back into his underwear, you rolled onto your other side, wincing as you crushed your arm into the mattress. “I mean, I wouldn’t be here still if it weren’t for you.”

He chuckled. Through the darkness, you could make out the small smile on his lips. “Don’t give me all the credit. All I did was break you out.”

You scoffed. “Let’s not act like I would’ve been able to find a way off of that planet alone.”

“Fine, I’ll give you that much,” he said with a sigh. “All the more reason for me to teach you the basics of flying.”

Excitement and trepidation bubbled in your stomach at the thought of piloting a ship. A massive hunk of metal with the ability to take you anywhere you wanted, completely at your will. There was no denying the allure of possessing those skills.

“Are you sure you want to take on a student like me?”

He sighed. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

Like clockwork, Ben wrapped his arms around your back, pinning you against his chest. Finally, between the feeling of being in his arms and the steady thump of his heart, sleep carried you away.

[soaps-hoe-141]

Back Together

Part 23

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

WC: 4.9k

Synopsis: Choo choo

Warnings: Lots of violence (if you read the last part you already know what kind)

Six hours since Johnny had been taken. Just six and the fuckers already knew enough about him to put a video on the internet to let everyone know they had someone of value. His fingers were dug into the leather of the chair as Price asked Watcher, "Have you watched it yet?" The young man shook his head, he felt a sense of dread as the cursor on the screen neared the play button. All eyes stared ahead, even Konig and Ghost, so close to one another, no longer paid any mind to their grievances. This wasn't about them, this was about Soap.

-------- (Soap POV)

Fingers dug at the skin underneath his arms, hauling him up from where he had been thrown a few hours earlier, or had it been minutes, he couldn't keep track of the time anymore. It had been so dark and so cold in here that he thought he was gonna freeze to death before they came back. Maybe that would be better though, no telling what these people had in store for him. His hands were bound by something sticky, duct tape probably, and when he tried to move his feet he could tell they too had been tied together by something. The fingers hoisted him up, he couldn't see their faces, he couldn't see anything really. Oh, there was a hood on him, now that made sense.

The fingers released him and he felt the cold floor seep through the fabric of his shirt and pants. He tried to crawl his way forward, but a boot pressed its heel on the back of his hand, pain shooting up his arm but it was secondary to the thoughts he let run through his mind and ground him. The rules, his rules, the ones his experience had taught him well. Rule 1: Do not make a sound, never let them hear you breaking. Rule 2: Little things, you tell them the insignificant details first if you have to, if you just can't take it anymore and you need it to stop if only for a moment. Rule 3: Never sell out your team, never put a target on their backs. Your team can bring you back but not if they're trying to keep themselves from getting killed or taken as well.

The hood slid off over his head, light blinded him and he closed his eyes against it while his head pounded and he had the overwhelming urge to sleep. Had the flash done this much damage to his head? Maybe he wasn't ready when he came back, his head didn't feel like it was healed now that was for sure. A foot rolled him over and then a hand was pulling his eyelids up, harsh light sending another round of pain through him. Don't flinch, whatever you do don't flinch, he forced himself to look up, to gaze upon his captors with the disdain that flooded every corner of his mind. The man he saw was not who he expected, but did you ever expect to see your HVT right in front of you? If your HVT knew who and where you were there was a problem and he already checked one of those off his list.

Ilya Barandin, Soap blinked for a couple seconds before the man smiled above him, but there was no warmth there, only the cold hard truth that he was internationally, galactically fucked. "I thought I recognized you, you're the one who came to my city and stole my favorite German."

His brows furrowed and he managed to croak out, "What?"

The smile dropped for a moment as he answered, "Konig, it was you on the cameras, I even have a recording. Much like the one I'm going to put of you on the internet for everyone to see."

Fingers pulled him up to his knees and watched the Russian as he moved towards a man holding a camera. His heart jumped as the red light came on, recording him and Ilya both. "Hello," he gave a little wave to the camera, his smile back on his face as he pandered to an audience that would soon be millions. How did he keep it there when he obviously felt no joy? "So you come into my city, take my friends, and don't even have the good manners to say hello first. And you don't stop there, you come to my country next, and think that I won't know?" Ilya paused to take a step back towards him, the dark eyes glancing over his shoulder to lock on to his target before a finger raised, pointing at him. "And you do it, all of it, with the same man? You think I wouldn't recognize the Sergeant John MacTavish? Say hello to the world John, tell your friends and family hello."

Ilya motioned to the camera, and Soap stayed stubbornly silent, even when hand pulled him up on his knees. The Russian sighed and nodded at someone behind him before he saw them come around and a fist slammed into his jaw. Lights flashed behind his eyelids, shit he could smell colors right now he was sure. That was red right there, warm and painful and metallic. His stomach tightened at the urge to puke but he had nothing to expel, instead he felt blood trickle out of his mouth to the cold floor under him. Hands pulled at him again, he had fallen over though he didn't remember hitting the ground. "Say hello John," the man repeated with a glare despite the smile on his face again.

Soap returned the glare up at the man before spitting out, "Fuck off ye daft cunt. I amnae saying shite for you, I don't speak for anyone I speak for myself ya prick." He didn't see the nod from the Russian but he still felt the fist land, on his other side this time, were there two of the bloody bastards?

"You know John we could have a lot of fun, you and I, but not if you are gonna talk like that. Now try again, say hello, I'm sure your team would want to hear it from you, da?" Ilya was watching him with narrowed eyes, don't blink, don't react, just stare straight ahead, give them nothing to go off of.

Soap stayed silent for a couple seconds before finally muttering, "Hello."

It seemed to satisfy the Russian at least as he turned back to the camera. "So you have something I want, and I now have something you very desperately want. How about we trade? You give me back Suheil and, let's say, a million UK pounds for emotional reparations and I'll give you back little John here." Someone handed Ilya a syringe, watching as the man backed up towards him. Soap started to move backwards but hands grabbed his shoulders on both sides and he couldn't escape. "You have four days to get me what I want," the needle slipped into his neck and he watched as the plunger pushed down, the liquid inside emptying into his veins. Everything went blurry and he couldn't keep his eyes open. He tried to work his mouth but all he could do was let out a strained gurgle. And then it all faded, the emptiness of the void protecting him in its womb, for now.

---------- (Ghost POV)

Soap’s head slumped forward and Ilya pulled the needle out, handing it off to someone. The Russian stared at the camera with his empty smile and kneeled down beside Soap. His fingers grabbed the dark locks and pulled his head up, face blank for the camera now, no longer carrying that telltale look of defiance that was just Johnny. "Four days. Each day you fail to comply, your friend and I will have a chat, nice and long. Don't wait four days, you won't like the outcome. Just ask Konig." The video ended then, Ilya still smiling at the screen.

Ghost felt the rage boiling in his mind, no longer was it a want, it was a need to kill the man. He turned his eyes down quickly to look at the German as the Captain questioned, "What does he mean by ask you Germ?"

Konig was still staring at where the video was, until slowly all gazes turned to him. His green eyes were wrought with disbelief as he answered, "He gave KorTac the same ultimatum, and you saw the aftermath of that. He tortured us for three days, the fourth day he killed us."

The pit in his stomach grew wider when Gaz spoke up then, "We need to get him back, Captain."

"Agreed," Price answered, standing up to look at Laswell. "When can we leave?"

Ghost didn't bother to wait for the woman's answer, he was at the door in a second as he growled out, "Now."

-------

Eighteen hours and twenty seven minutes since Johnny had been taken. Eighteen hours and twenty seven minutes since the world had shattered around him. Since he’d gazed over the precipice and known he couldn’t do this, couldn’t live without that little bastard annoying him at every turn and constantly being under his feet. Every room in this base had been cleared, every single one and there wasn’t even a trace of the Scotsman to be seen. Watcher had been tasked to their unit and was sitting behind a computer terminal now. Konig, Price, and Gaz were down the hall searching through every file, every piece of physical evidence they could find, for anything that could tell them where Soap was.

The ginger Scotsman behind him stood and said quickly, “I’ve got everything, we can go now.”

Ghost grunted and moved down the hall with Watcher right behind him, “Comin’ in Price.” They turned into the room where the rest of the team was sifting through everything.

The Captain barely even looked up as he skimmed a file before he took a phone out of his vest and snapped pictures of three flight manifests, all claiming multiple passengers on board but not having any names that were of note. He lifted his hand to his radio and his voice came over everyone’s headset, “Laswell, I’ve got three flight manifests here, sending you the pictures now.”

“I’ll start tracking them down now,” the woman said over the comms.

Price motioned for Watcher to get over there, he had become their designated pack mule for the time being since he was already carrying computer hard drives, what difference would a few files make to the Scotsman. He turned the young man around, unzipping his pack and shoving the files inside before he zipped it back up and said, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Ghost led them out without a word, counting every second in his head that Soap wasn’t there with them. Thoughts focused on a single thing, getting Johnny back and alive in one piece. Not just for his own selfish thoughts but for Soap’s physical and mental wellbeing, so his family never has to bury a son, a brother, or an uncle. Johnny was gonna grow old living whatever life he fantasized about if it was the last thing he did.

A three hour flight out of the country and to the nearest motel they could find much to Ghost’s annoyance, if it were up to him they’d be sniffing that Russian bastard down with or without the intel they needed. But, realistically they had no information on where to go, they had no choice but to wait while Watcher and Laswell worked through all the information they had gotten from the base. Laswell was roomed with Price and Gaz, while Konig, Watcher, and Ghost were shoved into a room together. Laswell tracked the flight numbers down to each of their respective destinations while Watcher sorted through the digitized information.

The German and the Scotsman showered quickly, changing into fresh clothes after getting the gore off of their bodies. Ghost was reluctant to clean the blood off his hands though, to change out of the clothes that had been soaked in the blood of the men who had stolen Soap from them, from him. However, when he caught the German looking at him he let out a gruff, “What’re you lookin at me for?”

Konig’s glare hardened even more before he answered, “Trying to figure out what is going through your head.”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed and both men stared at one another for a few seconds, tension building in the room. He half expected to hear a Scottish accent cutting in, breaking their eye contact but it didn’t come. The only Scot here was the ginger typing on his keyboard as he sorted through the data on the hard drives they’d taken with a can of soda sitting on one of the night stands beside him. “It’s none of your fuckin business Konig,” he disappeared into the bathroom, showering quickly and staring at himself in the mirror. He reached a finger up to the scars that were etched across his face. The memory of Johnny doing the same thing flashed through his mind and he dropped his hand to the sink, rocking into it as his knuckles turned white. He gripped it as he tried to hold himself together, to not feel all the emotions trying to flood his mind. His chin fell and hazel eyes closed, head shaking as he forced the emotions back where they belonged.

Twenty four hours and three minutes since he’d been taken, he had to hold it together. Breaking down was not an option, get angry, see red, but do not break down. Ghost pulled his clothes on, hands shaking as he pulled his mask on in the mirror, hiding his face behind the black balaclava. He left the bathroom, throwing his bag on the seat near the door into the room. Watcher was still typing on his laptop, the soda can now gone and replaced by a bottle of water and a bag of chips. Konig had moved to the other side of the bed, elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. The German looked up at him as he stood at the window, looking out at their truck with one shoulder leaning against the wall. He heard the other man huff and saw his head shake in the reflection of the window before he turned his attention to the reflection of the man on the bed, “I do not understand you.”

He felt a growl rise in his throat as he answered, “Good thing you don’t need to then.”

The German stood up, the bed creaking at the loss of his weight. His head tilted as he watched the Lieutenant, “You act as if you do not care. Why? You obviously cared enough when you tried to beat me for spending the night at his apartment.”

Ghost gritted his teeth, hazel eyes narrowing as he stared at Konig though he still leaned casually against the wall, “I do care. He is my teammate too. What happened the other night was a misunderstanding.”

Konig gave a cynical laugh at that, “Is that what you call it? A misunderstanding? You know as well as I do he was more than a teammate, do not say that quatsch to me Ghost.”

He pushed himself up from the wall then, watching as the German stalked closer now. There was a distinctive lack of typing now, Watcher’s eyes flicking between the two of them nervously. “The bloody hell do you want me to say Konig? That I’m sorry for breaking your nose? I’m not, deal with it.”

The big man was wearing the black mask that Soap had gotten him, the one that didn’t cover his entire face, only his mouth, nose, and part of his cheeks. He could see the way his face reddened, not in a blush but in a deep seated rage. The words flew out of his mouth seemingly without thought, “Du bist eine Verschwendung einer Existenz. Du warst, du bist und du wirst immer eine böse Kreatur sein, die seiner unwürdig ist. Jetzt wirst du nicht mehr geliebt werden.”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, “Say it in english, coward.”

The man didn’t hesitate, “You are a waste of an existence. You were, you are and you will always be a nasty creature unworthy of him. Now you won't be loved anymore.”

It finally set him off, he struck out smacking a fist into Konig’s face. He felt the cartilage give under his knuckles, still not completely healed from the last time he’d hit him. The German fell back a couple steps but when Ghost tried to follow it up, arms wrapped around his torso and drove him to the ground and the air was forced from his lungs. He kicked upwards, a foot smacking into hard abdominal muscles but the man didn’t budge. A fist came down at his face, then another, and another. He heard the room door open, catching the sight of ginger hair fleeing the room. Ghost kicked again, pushing Konig up and flipping him over his head. He was scrambling to get on top of him when he heard the door open again. He lashed out with a fist missing his mark when hands grabbed him, pulling him backwards. Ghost roared at the German as he watched the man stand up, trying to fight through the strong arms that had locked around his waist and now had him pinned against the wall.

It was Price’s voice that broke through the red haze in his vision, “Ghost! Stop! Bloody hell mate stop!” Konig stood fists clenching at his sides as the Lieutenant calmed slowly, Laswell and Watcher standing at the door looking between the two men. 

Finally he stopped struggling, and growled at the Captain, “I’m fine, let me go.” Slowly Gaz and Price’s arms holding on to him released their tight grip. They were both unsure at first but when he pulled away and stalked to the other side of the room to stand on the other side of the bed. He distanced himself from everyone else and the tensions seemed to subside at least for the moment.

The Captain looked between him and Konig now, “What fuck are you muppets doing? We barely just get here to get some rest and you two are fighting like you’re each other's enemies? Are you fuckin kidding me? Use your fuckin heads!”

Konig was staring hard at Ghost but he didn’t say anything, neither in German or English. The Lieutenant had to break the silence, “We’re fine Price. Disagreement.”

The brunette shook his head, noticing for the first time he wasn’t wearing a beanie or the boonie hat. Soap would have had a field day with that, he never would have shut up about it. “No, I've had enough of whatever this is between you two. But we are a man down and a minute short we do not have the resources to be fighting right now. Shelf whatever the fuck is wrong with the both of you and deal with it after we get Soap back. Get your head out of your asses.” The Captain shot a glare at Konig and said, “You’re changing rooms Germ, get your shite. Gaz you’re in here with Watcher and the other big bastard.”

----------

Twenty five hours and forty two minutes since Soap had been taken. He couldn’t sleep and it wasn’t just because of Gaz’s loud snores, and Watcher having yet to close his laptop as he imagined Laswell in the other room was doing the same thing. When the typing stopped it took his mind a second to realize the absence before his eyes shot to the ginger who was staring at his screen, fingers paused over the keys as if time had frozen. “What’s wrong,” his deep voice rasped out, throat dry and cracking, as he took his eyes off of the truck for the first time that night other than his fight with Konig anyway. Watcher still didn’t move, frozen, and for a moment he thought he might be sleeping and just hadn’t realized it. He lifted the sleeve of his shirt, pinching the skin hard enough that it would undoubtedly bruise later. Everything stayed the same, the streetlight outside still flickered and the occasional car still chugged by slowly on the road outside. He asked his question again, raising the volume of his voice then, “What’s wrong, Watcher?”

Blue eyes found his face before the man finally answered, “There’s another video.” He felt like he’d been punched in the gut, the urge to panic trying to set in as he actively smothered it again. They were supposed to have four days. Twenty five hours and forty seven minutes, that wasn’t four days.

---------- (Soap POV)

The sedative wore off slowly, the dark world around him coming into focus groggily and it didn’t help that he was shivering so hard his teeth were clicking together. The concrete room was literally freezing and he felt, was he wet? He tried to move his toes but he couldn’t tell if they responded or not, he couldn’t feel them. He’d lost the pants and shirt he’d been wearing on his last mission, replaced by a thin pair of pants and an even thinner t-shirt all that clung to him, while the wet fabric chafed his skin.

Blue eyes scanned the room, his body spasming in an attempt to generate heat, far past just shivering now. Soap slid himself backwards until his back hit a wall, analyze your surroundings and get your bearings. There was nothing to analyze though, he was in a lightless room and his hands and feet were still tied. He didn’t manage to stay upright long though as he trapped his fingers between his thighs and his shoulder smacked against the cold concrete floor. Every surface sapped his warmth, whatever his shivering was creating didn’t stick long in his limbs.

It was timeless sitting in the dark, draped in wet clothes. When the door finally opened and light filtered into the room he couldn’t summon the energy to move, only his eyes could find the two men who stepped inside. Puffs of air were visible in the light as they grabbed him by the arms, dragging him out of what he feared might soon be his tomb. He continued to shiver even as they pulled him through the heated sections of whatever building they were in. Eyes examined every surface, trying to find something, anything of import he could use to his advantage.

When they lifted him up over a step and then threw him down he realized he was in the same room as last time. His body couldn’t stop shaking even when the Russian rolled him to his back with that same empty smile staring down at him. “Good morning, John, did you sleep well?” Soap stared up at him, he opened his mouth to answer but he couldn’t get the words out past his chattering teeth. “You should have said you needed a blanket if you were cold, your poor lips are turning blue. Oh and apologies for the wet clothes, you smelt like shit, so I told the men to give you a bath.” Ilya turned to look at the camera, nodding to the man who was behind it before the red light turned on and he knew he was being recorded for the whole world to see again.

The Russian spread his hands and shook his head as he paced in front of the camera. “One day down and poor John I have to tell you, I really thought your friends would care more about you. See I was even kind enough not to hurt your teammate 141, and you repay that kindness with silence. So John,” dark eyes looked down at him as he signaled with a hand to the men who had brought him here. He heard a chair slide across the floor before hands lifted him under his arms and sat his still helplessly shivering body into the chair. He knew he would have fallen over again if it wasn’t for the hands of the two men holding him in place. Ilya leaned down beside him as he looked at the camera, “Looks like we have to have that talk.”

The tape on his hands was cut and the men pulled his arms away from where he had been warming his frozen fingers in between his thighs, or at least attempting to. He opened his mouth, sucking in cold air that chilled him even further before he growled out, “Go stick…yer dick…in a blender.” He felt his hands press back together as he was rebound, and then his ankles were taped to the legs of the chair.

Ilya’s smile turned into a smirk then and his head tilted, “Where is Suheil, John?” Soap was finally getting his shivering under control, staring at Ilya with clear defiance. “If I ask again you wont like the way I do it. Don’t make your team watch that, I hate to be the bad guy.” The Scotsman stayed silent, even when the Russian sighed and gestured to the men who moved the chair closer to the camera. Ilya pulled his own chair forward, taking a seat beside him as a knife was handed to him. He tested the blade for a moment with the tips of his fingers before he glanced up at him again, “Where is Suheil, John?” Soap stared forward, not saying anything even as the knife neared his leg. The thin fabric cut like butter under the knife, exposing two huge gashes, one in his thigh and the other in his calf. They were both angry, red, and puffy and undoubtedly were infected by now.

“We should get you something for that, don’t you think?” Fingers pressed against the torn flesh and the small shivers still going through him hid the flinch he couldn’t stop. The fingers slid into the flesh, digging in as blood coated the man’s hand and wrist. His hand disappearing deeper than any foreign object should have been able to go. He felt like a worm was burrowing into his muscle. Soap couldn’t take in a full breath, his face contorting despite his best effort to control his expression. His breath halted when another finger pressed into the open wound, digging around like he was searching for something, “Just gotta make sure the dog didn’t leave anything behind, you understand da?”

Blue eyes turned to glare at the man, his breath shallowing even more at the pain, “Aye I understand.” He paused to strangle a groan in his throat before continuing, “I understand that every girlfriend or wife you’ve ever had walks away disappointed. Your fingers couldn’t satisfy the tightest woman on the planet and I’m sure anyone who has ever been with you is looser than your mother was the day she pushed out yer big head.” Ilya’s eyes narrowed at him and he added in a growl that could rival even Ghost’s, “The least you could do is play some bloody music so I don’t have to sit here listenin to your pre-pubescent voice, or maybe some fuckin earmuffs that’d be nice.” The knife struck out without thought, the pain in his thigh blinded like the sun. Despite it though, and despite his shaking head and muffled groans, he was laughing. He, the dead man, the victim, was sitting here torturing his captor mentally just as much as he was receiving physically. Wasn’t that some backwards shit?

---------- (Ghost POV)

Shut up Johnny, just shut your mouth for once in your fuckin life. The video went on for fifteen minutes, Soap’s emasculating and berating comments flying out so fast he was sure the Russian was going to cut out his tongue before it was through. He noticed just how bad his stomach hurt, the bile rising in his throat with every cut of the blade across once unmarred skin. Skin he had marked to hell once, skin he had claimed as his. “He’s cold,” the voice broke him away from the picture at the end of the video. Soap’s head once more hanging forward after being sedated with whatever fuckin drug they were shoving into him.

“What does that even mean?” Gaz asked, turning a questioning look over at Konig who was standing just barely in front of Ghost.

Konig leaned back, fingers lacing behind his head as he remembered what he had been through with the Russian. “When he had us he used the environment, the heat in my case, to try and break us psychologically,” a finger tapped against his temple as he indicated what he meant. “He put us into what turned into a sauna, packed together and radiating heat, sun beating on us every morning and evening while he tortured us through the afternoon. He used the desert to break us.”

Something in Laswell’s mind seemed to click and she nodded slowly agreeing with the German, “You think he’s doing the same thing to Soap.” She disappeared for a few seconds, returning with her laptop from the other room as she opened the files that Price had sent her from the last base. “One plane flew to Brazil, where it is currently summer so going off of what Konig is saying we can strike it off the list. Another plane took off to Estonia, and the other landed in Ukraine. It could be either one, John.” She turned her gaze to the Captain, neither one certain they wanted to make this decision.

Finally, Price steeled him as he made his decision and said, “Ukraine is more likely, we’ll go there first. Pack up boys, we’re leaving.”

[adventureroftheuniverse]

RE; The Blue Dwarf [Pt.1]

A soft, comforting voice broke the eerie silence of the captians quarters as harsh bright lights flickered to life.

"Captain, it's time to wake up. We are approaching Sarah-5"

John slowly opened his eyes as the lights burst to life, giving a small groan. He sat up in his bunk and slid his legs off to the side, eyes still half closed.

"Annie-"

He mumbled, grabbing at his captians badge besides him on the steel bed stand and groaning quietly.

"how close are we exactly?"

A small hologram of a woman, clad in what seemed to be midevil clothing appeared before him. Its green eyes and brown hair swaying in a non existent wind as it spread its hand wide, revealing a massive star map that covered his quarters in a pale green sheen.

"Approximately... one earth hour, and five minutes."

The hologram says, closing its palm. With that, the map vanished.

"Ah, good."

Grunting again, John stood up and opened the sliding cupboard he kept his clothes in, pulling out a very nice black suit and tie. He carefully slipped on the silky black pants, the tie, and finally the vest. Smoothing it down, he gave himself a look over. It still fit, even after all this time. Honestly, he was a little suprised with all that had been happening.

"Annie, how do I look?"

The AI- Annie, as it seemed to be called- looked over his suit and gave an approving nod.

"You look quite nice sir."

She said, her voice soft and comforting.

"Perfect. I want to look nice for her."

John patted his pants down before swiping his badge across the scanner. A soft hiss filled his ears as the bulkhead doors slid open to reveal a hallway leading into the rest of the ship. The lights dim, but not enough to hinder his vision. The perfect light level- and her favourite.

"And how is everything doing? Engines? Agricultural department? FTL drive?"

He asked, taking a step out of his cabin and falling into a brisk walk almost immediately. The sound of his shoes echoing down the halls.

Annie seemed to blip out of existence for a moment before returning to his side, walking on air besides him. It was always entertaining to see her mimick whatever he was doing, and somewhat comforting at times like these.

"All Nominal, though the engines seem to be working at 98.6% of their regular output."

John nodded along as he opened another bulkhead casually, continuing his quick pace after opening entirely.

"Well, I'll take a look at it afterwards."

Another hiss, but this time a room of greens and reds and whites, all fruits and vegetables. Well, all but one row of pure white roses, besides which were a colorful array of different flowers, in which John stopped and seemingly hovered his hand over them, deciding which one to pluck. His eyes wandering over all of them, inspecting each one for any flaws.

"Sir, I know today is important. But I also need you to know we cannot continue on our own for much longer. I am barely able to moderate all the systems by myself, and you cannot do every odd job around the ship."

Annie piped up, blinking as he swept his hand down and swiftly plucked one of the roses. Then another. And another.

"Mmm... I'll think about it. You know how I do with teams." He responded a bit gruffly, fixing some of the the newly acquired roses onto his chest. The rest, he put together in a bunch and gave them a sniff.

"Though, you are right- how long have we been by ourselves?"

As he spoke, he slowly picked various other flowers, from purple tulips to sunflowers and added them to the small bunch in his hands.

"Approximately three and a half star cycles."

She answered curtly, watching him slowly fill out his hands with flowers.

John clicked his tongue as he ties the bottoms of the flowers together with some spare string he seemingly pulled out of nowhere, deftly tying it into a bow.

"In another time code please, you know I hate galactic standard."

Annie sighed audibly, even if she didn't have to. A habit she was picking up from her traveling companion.

"seven earth years."

"That's much better. Hmmm. That *is* quite a long time- maybe you're right. I'll ask her. Do you think she'll like the flowers this year?"

He ponders, almost to himself as he exits the Agricultural gardens, fiddling with the boque of flowers.

"I'm sure she'll love them"

she responded softly, placing a non existent hand on his shoulder as they walked.

"I hope so. How much longer until we get to Sarah-5?"

He asked, tugging at his collar.

"About... five earth minutes."

Annie vanished for a moment again before returning, wearing a much more appropriate dress.

"I'll open the bridge viewing port"

John nodded and sat down in his captians chair, spinning it around to face the front of his craft as Annie slowly opened the viewing ports. Just outside, almost engulfing the ship in its massive blue halo, was a blue dwarf. It's soft hue coloring the entirety of the bridge blue, white corona's spiraling off into space with a firey rage. Surrounding the blue dwarf was a harsh purple and red nebula, from which it had formed. The view was- stunning. Always left John speechless at first. But, soon he collects his thoughts and smiles, leaning forward in his chair.

"Hello beautiful. I brought you flowers, do you like them?"

The blue dwarf, of course, had no answer. It just continued to spew blue light and radiation. But John didn't care.

"I know I know I missed you too. Did you hear that Annie wants me to get a new crew? On the ship? I wanted to ask your thoughts."

Casually, he let the flowers slip into a small tube, ejecting them out into the cold vacuum of space towards the dwarf. When they made contact, there was a massive corona burst, shaking the ship violently.

"Ah, so you agree huh? Always nice to hear your thoughts. I wore my wedding suit this time. I kept it nice for you."

Again, no answer. But that was all John had to say, and said nothing more. Just sitting there, looking out into the depths of the star.

Hours passed, before Annie gently spoke up.

"Sir, we should head out. She'll go back into her gamma ray storm soon."

John sighed and patted down his suit, small flecks of dust floating to the ground as he did.

"You're right you're right. Well, where's the nearest station?

He asked, turning to the controls.

[Thank you for reading! This is an older post of mine I am very fond of. Recently, I managed to recover *some* of the notes for this story and wanted to restart it! So I found the old post, tweaked a little bit of it, and am sharing here on Tumblr + reddit.

This is the only piece I will be posting again, I just love this short little snippet into the world and didn't want to try and rewrite it, as i really loved this one. Thank you for reading, and i'lll continue the story in future! I have another part currently and will post it soon, how soon I'm not sure. Probably later today. Or tomorrow.]

[dogmatik]

Three Seconds.

Rick runs his tongue across his teeth, finds a split above his left canine sluggishly oozing blood. He presses into it, the wound covering his soft pallet with liquid-iron. He used to love the taste of blood, it was exciting, made him see red. That was a long time ago, back when he was with the flesh curtains, doing mostly earth coke in the galactic equivalent of shitty truck stops. Now the taste just pisses him off, reminds him that some nameless waste of carbon actually got a hit in. He can feel a drop of spit and blood plop onto his thigh. He spits and the blood splatters a lurid pink against the concrete floor. He'd wipe his face, but his hands are tied around his back, zip ties of all things dig irritating impressions into the thin skin against his wrist. His knees ache where they're pressed against the floor below him, the cold seeping in through his pant legs and promising a good week of creaking pain if he manages to make it out of this shit hole alive. Fuck, he's too old for this shit.

Rick is pulled very sharply from his thoughts when he hears the door open behind him, followed by strong, steady foot falls and much lighter shuffling ones. He recognizes the later, and his guess is confirmed when Morty stumbles into his line of sight. He doesn't look hurt, his clothes are dirty and there's dust sticking to the tear tracks along his cheeks, but no pain graces his features. Just fear. If it weren't for Morty he'd already be out of here, fucking plastic zip ties were the last thing that would stop The Rick Sanchez. His captor knew that though, and they both knew that the ties were really more of a formality anyway. So yeah, he could've left an hour ago, but with the couple of blows to the side of his head knocking loose his augmentation controls he wasn't convinced he'd find Morty wherever they were keeping him on their ramshackle compound before they decided to take him out back and put the sorry little bastard down.

Speaking of, there's a laser gun pressed snug against the base of Morty's skull. Their kidnapper is a Melvonian, bipedal and mostly humanoid apart from their second set of arms, eyes and various other appendages. Wink. This one is male, about middle aged for his species, his skin tone an admittedly pretty shade of mauve. It's a shame, the guys hot, too bad as soon as he lets his guard down he'll be dead. "Morning Sanchez, I've brought your little buddy. Say Hi little buddy." The man grins, shaking Morty by the bruising grip on his bicep. "Ow, H-hi, grandpa Rick." he winces. "So here's the deal. We've got a really important fight coming up, and that portal tech of yours sure would come in handy." "I don't get involved in interstellar politics, and neither does my badass tech. Bite me." The guy shoves the gun harder against Morty's head, eliciting a squeak of fear and causing his knees to wobble like a new born calf. "Don't interrupt me." Rick rolls his eyes, but stays quiet. For Now.

Rick can see the twitch in one of the mans four eyes, he's still smiling, but he looks angry, a little crazed. Damn, it really is a shame this dude's gotta die. Forgive him for thinking with his dick here, but crazy is pretty much the only type that can keep up with Rick for too long, and the guys got two sets of pecs. Drool. "As I was saying, your tech would help us a lot. Someone from my group has tried and failed to get the machine from you peacefully. Clearly peaceful is not a approach you sway to. Now it's my turn. So here is my ultimatum: Give us a working portal gun and blueprints to build more, or I send a laser through your grandson's head. Simple, no?" He cocks his head to the side, tone light, like he's discussing which restaurant he wants to go to and he's not the perpetrator of a goddamn hostage situation. Morty has been so quiet, eyes trained on Rick. It unnerves him, the genuine panic on his grandson's face. He needs to focus.

Rick's been doing some mental math, trying to figure out how to get through the zip ties and the gun out of this big idiots hand before he pulls the trigger. He can see the safety is on, but he'd recognize a Fentel 16 anywhere, and you can bypass the safety by pressing down the trigger and holding for three seconds. Kinda always struck Rick as defeating the purpose of the safety, but the Fentel series is pretty much exclusively used by criminals, so the company only put a safety on the thing in the first place to get past Galactic Federation manufacturing guidelines. He's not sure he can get to Morty in 3 seconds from here. He needs to think of something, fast. "Listen muscle man, I'm telling you I'm not giving you or your little gang my portal tech. I don't care how righteous you think your cause is, there's a billion other warmongering douchebags in this star system alone who think the exact same thing. I'm not contributing to that." The guys fucking built. Rick isn't short by any means, a cool 6'4" un-slouched, but this guy has at least a foot or so on him. Plus he's pretty sure the dudes forearm is at least the size of his thigh; side note again: Drool. Anyway, he's not sure he can take him in a wrestling match for that gun, especially considering the two extra arms. If Morty reacted quick enough maybe, but the kids little wrists are bound like Ricks are, and he looks scared enough to be nauseous. Rick can't count on him on this one.

"I've been following you a long time, I can tell when you're stalling." Rick can talk a fish out of water on good days, but revolutionary types are a notoriously stubborn breed. He'd know, he was one. Still is, though its been a while since he's been in a fight over anything but his own self-interest. That thought stings just a little. Don't have time for that one, Back in the vault it goes. Rick can see Morty trembling, and can see his chest stuttering when he holds his breath to stop the shakes. It makes Rick's chest hurt a little, like something in there was knocked loose the same time his augmentations were. Rick stops looking at him. "Morty's a shit bargaining chip by the way, Broh. I've got a coupon for a new one from the citadel in my back pocket right now." Rick bares his teeth, smells his own blood on his breath. "Besides, I've been to your pitiful little planet shit for brains, I know your species has a thing about killing kids. You're all too sentimental." Their captor laughs, two of his four eyes squeezed shut in mirth, the other two still diligently trained on Rick "For The Rick Sanchez? I'm willing to make an exception." He grins, double canines glittering blue-white as he switches the safety off and the gun comes alive with a mechanical hum, neon purple lights flicking on incrementally, indicating the charge.

Fuck, there go his three seconds.

[lunamidnight]

November 12th

Fanfiction/Original Fiction

First created: Aug 2015

Last updated: Feb. 2019

General Premise: Kid next door post story after Number one returns from teh galactic K.N.D. and meets up with number 5.

Other notes: kinda shipy but can be platonic

It was the middle of winter on a typical night, it was just past nine o'clock when one would find Nigel Uno laying back on a park bench. He wore a red button-up shirt with a black vest and tie, khaki pants and black dress shoes. someone would generally think he came from some fancy party and decided to rest for a moment on the convenient bench, but in truth, this was his normal apparel in his late teen years, complete with his all too familiar signature black sunglasses. Why does he wear them at night even though it could potentially ruin his eyesight? well, some would think he’s too cool to take them off. While his friends would say they were like a security blanket of a kind or a memento to the past that most of them were forced to forget.

Not Nigel Uno though, since his days in the galactic kids next door, he had returned from his “study abroad” to come back and be initiated into the teens next doors. Of course its merely undercover work nowadays but he was internally grateful to keep his memories. Alas, when he returned he was able to see a lot of his old friends, but like most other kids from the K.N.D, they were decommissioned at age thirteen. Despite their distorted memories on their childhood adventures, he was glad to see all of them.

Numbuh two or rather Hoagie Gilligan had grown out of his childhood roundness into an almost twig-like teenager, nowadays since his crush on Cree Lincoln had ceased, he was going out with Nigel’s ex Lizzie Devine. This almost surprised Nigel if it weren’t for the fact that their relationship just worked. He was glad to know that they were happy, and there were no hard feelings at all, even when Lizzie slipped her old Nigie nickname by accident.

Numbuh three and four, aka Kuki and Wally, had finally gotten together. After years of Wally crushing on Kuki and Kuki crushing on Wally, Wally finally asked her out to a date, which she, of course, accepted. That was shortly after their decommissioning, but like everyone else, Nigel couldn’t help but think, about time.

Now Numbuh five was a different story, she hadn’t been in the states since just before Nigel came home. Kuki told him about Abby going with her family to Africa to help her doctor of a dad with a few cases of some non-fatal but irritating disease. She was due to return home soon, if not already. He often thought and hoped that when he saw her that she too got accepted into the T.N.D, but he wouldn’t find out till he saw her.

He laid against the back of the bench looking up at the sky, where he once was not even three years prior. He sometimes missed the adventures, but not as heart-wrenching as being separated from friends and family on earth.

He frowned at the thought slightly until suddenly his shades were taken off slowly by gentle hands, giving a pure look of confusion, he looked up to see the culprit. Which was none other than Abigail Lincoln herself. Wearing a blue button up long sleeve over a white camisole with blue Capri jeans and white and black one and half inch high heeled boots. of course, she also had her own signature red cap on top of her head, tilted to the side over not a braided ponytail but, loose waves of dark brown hair.

Abby smiled down at him still holding onto his sunglasses “I see old habits die hard, Nigel” She said with a small tease in her voice. Nigel sat up with a start. “Abby, it's been too long.” He stated as he stood up and walked around the bench to give her a warm hug. “Way too long,   sorry for not being here when you got back from your trip.” Abby said with a smile. Nigel froze for a split second thinking the worse. Abby noticed and pulled away.  “Nigel, the other one.” She specified causing an all too relieved sigh in response. He wouldn’t look so relieved if he had his glasses, but she still held onto them, almost too scared to give them back in case he was just an illusion.

Nigel understood the fear even if it wasn’t too evident on her face. “It’s quite alright Abby, at least you're here now.” He said with his usual old smirk. “Yes here, in the park at almost, ten at night?” Abby replies glancing at her watch before giving her own smirk in response. Nigel chuckled wholeheartedly at her response “Guess you're wondering why I'm out so late.” He said. “Yes, but I know you could ask the same exact question.” Abby said smiling. “Right but, it isn’t polite to ask a lady a question until I have answered her’s first, Ms. Lincoln.” He stated causing her to roll her eyes and blush ever so slightly, even though he most likely couldn’t see it in the dark.

“Well, to answer the question of the night… I simply couldn’t sleep...mom and dad are on a second honeymoon to England and I was able to convince them not to take me. So I could be left with my thoughts, guess that wasn’t the best idea.” Nigel replied sheepishly but honestly. Abby shook her head.”Is that ever a good idea with you Nigel, I’ve known you this long. When you think, you think hard. At least I see you trying to relax, despite how cold it’s getting.”Abby replied.

“Are you getting cold?” “Nope” “Hmmm alright so what about you, what are you doing out so late?” He asked as he watched he shiver despite her previous denial. “Guess being back home had me too jittery to get to sleep in my own bed. Wanted to see home without too much interference, I guess.” Abby replied with a shrug rubbing her left arm. “Understandable, you haven’t been home in what three years, give or take?” “Yeah that’s about right, so Wally and Kuki are together now?” 

“Hehe yes finally right? Lizzie and Hoagie too actually” Nigel said chuckling. “Oh, how’d you take that?” Abby asked curiously. “I was surprised at first but it just works for them. You’ll have to see sometime soon.” “I hope I see them soon.” Abby said before shivering a little more violently. “Cold now?” “No.” Abby replied stubbornly glaring at her friend. “You're lying.” Nigel pointed out not affected by her glare. “Come on, we can talk more at my house.” He offered, leading the way out of the park. Abby sighed following and catching up in a few strides. “Aren’t you?” She asked after a moment  “Am I what?” “Cold.” “A little, at least I don’t deny it.” He replied smugly. “Whatever.” Abby said sticking out her tongue at him making him laugh and grin playfully at her.

“Be careful that may freeze if it gets any colder.” Nigel teased. “Haha very funny.” Abby said returning her tongue to her mouth. “So generally speaking, how was it? the trip I mean.” Abby asked side glancing at him. “Fantastic, I don’t know if I can even do it justice with my own words, but I missed home a lot, family...and friends.” Nigel answered looking over at her with a small smile. “Well, I’m sure glad to have you back.” She replied with a similar smile just as they arrived at the Uno residence.

Nigel unlocked the door and moved aside to let her in first. By now the old treehouse of sector V had been removed and relocated for the new sector V, now Nigel’s home was just a plain old house. “Ever feel weird not having it here anymore?” Abby asked “All the time.” He said solemnly. “Want some tea?” He asked. “Sure herbal if you have any.” “That’s all I have right now actually.” “how convenient.” Abby said with a laugh following him into the kitchen, watching him fill up a tea kettle with water and placing it on the stove.

Both fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments until Nigel broke it. “You still have my glasses.” He said turning from the stove towards her with a questioning look. She smiled pulling the prized sunglasses out of her shirt pocket.”I suppose I do, would you like them back?” “Very much so Ms. Lincoln.” He said crossing his arms with a smirk. “Hmm well...you gotta catch me first.” Abby said before bounding out the back door with Nigel at her heels. She didn’t get too far into the back yard since he caught her by the waist and lifted her up some to stop her from running. “I will take those.” Nigel said as they laughed and he took back his glasses gently and placed them back on his face.

“Guess I can’t outrun you, even when you're in dress shoes.” Abby said still in the air a bit. Nigel set her down again shortly after noticing himself. “Well to be fair you are in high heeled boots.” Nigel pointed out letting her go so she could turn around to face him. She nodded in agreement before he abruptly snatched her hat off her head. “I’ll take that” He said smirking. “Hey! Give that back Nigel.” She exclaimed before he took off back into the house. 

She followed quickly as Nigel headed to the front door. She vaulted over his couch and landed on top of him, catching him on the floor and retrieving her hat. she was seated on his back at this point. He let out a pained grunt as he tried to lift himself up but stopping at the weight of his friend. “Alright, you have your hat back now, mind getting off of me please?” He said almost wheezing since the impact knocked the air out of him.

Abby laughed before getting up off of him and offering him a hand to help him up, in which he took gladly and got himself up. “I may beat you at running by a few inches but you sure still have me with all the gymnastics.” Nigel said laughing too. Abby smirked.” Eh wasn’t too hard to catch ya over your couch.” Abby explained just as the kettle went off. They moved to the kitchen and prepared the tea before sitting down at the dining table.

”So how was Africa?” Nigel asked after a couple long sips of his tea. “Alright, mainly helping dad and Cree with the doctor stuff, mainly sanitizing tools and such things like that. I was able to help a few kids with a bully in one of the villages too.” Abby explained. “Awesome, bet that was entertaining.” “It was, but overall I just couldn’t wait to get home.” Abby said with a sigh drinking her tea. “Yeah, I know how that feels. What all happened in the sector after I left?” Nigel asked. “Not too much after I took over, but after I become supreme leader our sector V got a lot of honors and recognition.” Abby explained.

“You became Supreme leader? When? What happened?” Nigel asked excitedly.  Abby laughed “A few months after you left actually, the first kid that I had to get decommissioned was Numbuh 363 because of his constant outburst about being touched. ”Abby explained. “Wow, I knew he didn’t like me touching him but so much to everyone to get that?” “You have no idea, Numbuh 362 requested I did that before she got decommissioned because even she realized how much of a pain her little brother could be.”  Abby replied. “Wow, he had a great mind for the Kids Next Door, but not exactly heart” Nigel said with a sigh.

“I know, but Sonya took over sector W, and it thrived even better than when he was the leader.” Abby explained. “Oh, that’s good to hear, glad that worked out. Who did you get to be supreme after you?” “Sonya actually, she really worked hard those last couple years, she deserved it.” “I could agree, she has a heart of gold and with a little training I’m sure she flourished.” Nigel said going back to his tea just like Abby was doing.

It goes back to the comfortable silence once more, the only sound is the two sipping their tea.

[pondslime]

I've been absent from Tumblr for a couple of days and somehow my FYP is full of Sinclair thots??.?? Is this some national holiday?🥶🥶🥶🥶 I have so many that gnawl at my brain at night.

Imagine calling Bo Beauregard for the first time🤐🤐🤐 You're either trying to be serious and have a real conversation with him for the first time since settling in Ambrose (spoiler: this is impossible. He's misogynistic and a firm believer that there's nothing to talk about with girls🩷🩷🩷🩷 he gives off that TikTok vibe "Do girls even have hobbies?" Like bro, drinking bear and crying ain't a hobby either), or you're so exhausted with his neanderthal shenanigans that you just sigh "Beauregard...." while absolutely pissed off and annoyed.

I just KNOW mama Sinclair would call him Beauregard in that no-nonsense tone when he would rip a hole in his dress pants before church , he must have PTSD from hearing his own freaking name. He's so used to being just Bo, that the only times he even acknowledges his full name are when he's either being scolded by his parents or when he's arrested and sees it on the paperwork.

So yeah, long story short I doubt he'd be amused by anyone calling him Beauregard. RIP MC.

*bonus crack thought* I remember talking here with someone about how Fucking Funny™ would it be to call Bo Robert. I'm not a native English speaker and I honestly never heard of the name Beauregard before😭😭😭 I just assumed Bo is like Bob, which is Robert😂😂😂😂 I'd get smacked on the head with a wrench for trying to be cute and calling him Robert. End scene

omg jhdsjhfjd not the fyp being inundated w/my dumbassery 💀

I lowkey felt like I was spamming the dash last night. BUT idk what came over me, I've had a couple days off work and I'm in a chatty mood hjhdsjahjhsdjh like. I just wanna TALK about this goofy ass movie?? **note to all the poor souls that might be following me rn: pls feel free to block the tag "sinclair brainrot hours" if u would like to save urself from my shenanigans**

this ask is killin me dshjhdfsjhj DRINKING BEER AND CRYING AIN'T A HOBBY BOY

I'm unfortunately part of the Anti-Beauregard Sinclair Hater Nation. I am, after all, the graphic designer responsible for THIS abomination:

context for this can be found here, with poki's galactic big brain take

I also love this take on what his real actual name is 🐔🧊

I just CANNOT buy this guy as a beauregard hdjhdfjh I simply cannot

HOWEVER. I do this thing w/ppl I'm fond of where I'll lengthen their names in ridiculous ways. like just add in entire syllables and letters that just. wholly don't exist. and I could see one of two situations playing out w/bing bong

scenario one: u drop a "beauregard" out of the blue one day. maybe you're trying to be cute. maybe you're trying to piss him off. he looks over @ u. crinkles his brow and gives u the bitchest lil expression. u best be glad u make good pork chops, WOMAN. bc u can't even remember his NAME. who tf u think ur talkin to??? one of ur fancy shmancy city boys?? get outta here!! just grumblin' around the living room abt how if u want some prissy ass boy w/a genteel ass name like that, his brother's right downstairs grumble grumble mutter mutter

scenario two:

he's been slurpin up that good ambrose moonshine (some crazy ass shit that comes in a jug w/x's on it. u know the one. lester labeled it as "ambrosia" and walks around saying it's the "fruit of the gods" and slappin his knee. bo has no fuckin' idea what he's saying.) and despite his high tolerance, boy's a bit sloshed. so are u. u drunkenly crawl into his lap and call him beauregard. he thinks this is v heehaw funny. whatchu think I am girl?? some kinda royalty?? that pretty lil head of urs is all kindsa messed up!! figure I AM like a king here hehehehehe

both equally as annoying😔

[stoptellinglieslois]

Principal of pleasure part 17

As the sting starts to kick off Dick get’s unexpected news.

Superman x Nightwing 

Dick

We are in full swing with the sting we even got to talk to the trafficker by asking casual questions about the time the bar opens up trying not to alarm anyone, We had to move a bit slower to really advance on them. It is simple but it became a bit trickier for us I told Kal not to go in all bravado and wait to take them down.

We’ve been here for eight weeks now when I thought we would leave sooner we stayed a bit longer then what I expected to.

We stayed at a park all though there were no grass or blue sky just a vast sand and tree’s things I have never seen before in my life. But this planet is a wonder of all the universe It looked like an underground evolve sandy utopia.

Since the day in the kitchen me and Kal have been having a lot of conversations about our situation. We are somewhat on the same page about most of the subjects I wanted to make sure that we understood each other. 

And I hope he would keep up being on the same page we are in I wanted to stay in that state of understanding each other. 

I sighed as we sat here watching the bar type gambling club where the trafficker frequents there.  

We had earpieces that connected us to the watch tower The Batman Green arrow and Green lantern had earpieces and a camera that is linked up to us in the form of a triangle pin that is clasp to are tunic.

Whatever me and Kal have to say to each other it could wait till later so far we sat here for over an hour not saying one word to each other, Watching the costumers go in and out of the bar.

I looked down at Kal’s hand how was drumming the wooden rustic bench, As I watched and listen to his fingers hitting the wood in a rhythmic sound and observe, it sounded like a heart beat he was mimicking I touched my chest as I look at Kal it was my heart beat he was hearing I couldn’t say anything I looked at him wide eye we didn’t say anything he looked over at me and smile at me and kept drumming his fingers to the beat of my heart.

“Whoa whoa I see the pink haired woman again.” The light pink haired woman Green lantern is referring to is the trafficker she is wearing leather pants and a hot fuchsia leather halter top she was medium built curvy shaped figure fair skinned evil little foul person. I wonder what planet she came from I wanted to know more about her I wondering if she had family and if she would traffic them maybe for the right prices there just some beings that are just not even beings.

“Good she keeps coming in and out of the club. She hasn’t left the club in days that space craft hasn’t moved in a week now.”

“Just stay on the bench they can’t see you guys so are cover isn’t blown.” Batman said the pink haired women finally went in the beaten up space hover craft and took off.

“Boys stays on that bench and see when she will come back.” Green lantern said the unsuspected woman didn’t know the whole planet was under arrest and on lock down the government of Axis and the guardian of the universe are surrounding the whole planet there is no violence here there is no murder’s here crime is none existence here.

And they intended on keeping it that way I agree I think they picked here to do there crime because this place is not on anyone’s radar.

We stayed here for three hours while listening to the trio in my ear talking planning and talking to galactic officials. 

Suddenly another hover craft station itself in front of the bar and the pink haired lady is not there but two men who looked human carried the crate in the bar.

“Superman use x-ray to see what’s inside it.” Kal stares at the wooden box. “There’s two children in there a boy and a girl in there.” Kal replied he looks at me as he says it.

“Ok so we need to advance on them sooner then later we won’t wait for another week we need to move in within twenty-four hours.” Batman said. “I link both of you up with the officials tonight we will commence the sting.”Batman continued the two other hero’s disconnected with us preparing for are bust.

We get up but Batman has not disconnected from us. “Dick I wanted to tell you some news before you prepare for the bust.” Batman's deep voice sounded so open as far as open go’s that was a mile stone. “It’s about Batgirl.”  Kal turned his head to me looking at me with no expression just a blank look.

“Yeah what’s up.” I said nervously I knew Kal could hear my heart because it was pounding hard. 

“Congratulations Dick she is expecting.” I breathed loudly through my nose I started laughing I put my hand over my hair and ruffled it. “Are you serious I can’t believe it oh my god B.” I was so excited and shocked that all these emotions are exploding inside of me right now. 

“Ok I delivered the news.” And Bruce disconnected with us still in shock I looked at Kal who was surprised but not that shocked he had a warm smile on his face.

And he started walking waving me to follow him we reached our small place. I took off the earpiece and camera Kal do’s the same I rubbed my face and looked at him my hands on my cheek in disbelieve. “Kal I’m going to be a father.” I said as he approach me and hugged me tightly.

I shivered as he held me and he kissed my nose. “Welcome to the club.” I looked up at him he wasn’t pissed or upset he looked at me with love in his eyes. “What do you mean what club?” I asked him.

“The father club I’m happy for you my little bird.” He snuggled his face on my throat and kissed it. “Nothing changes how I feel about you any less it actually makes you even more desirable to me.” I looked up at him and it was there right there I knew one thing I understood today it didn’t matter if I had a football team of a family or just one kid Kal was going to pursuit me anyway.

End of part 17 next is part 18 

Thank you for reading 

[blogger360ncislarules]

“I do a lot of research. A lot. You can’t really go, ‘I’ll just look it up and see photos.’ You glean through art and pick and choose,” says The Chosen costume designer Leila Heise, who joined midway through the first season and outfits the main cast, guest stars and extras with her small staff of about 12 people.

The process begins in preproduction and the team sews all the way up to the very last flick of a flowing robe when shooting wraps. Many looks are based on Heise’s research, but she also gets directives from producers.

“They do write certain things in the script,” she notes. At one point, there was a request for more color and texture, so when Joey Vahedi joined the cast as Thomas, Heise gave him stripes. Coming up, “We have a lot of different factions of the Roman guard now, so we have to pump them up. A lot is happening in Seasons 4 and 5,” Heise shares.

Scroll down as she breaks down some key costumes.

The Chosen

Atticus

“One of my favorites is Atticus [Elijah Alexander] because he’s secret police. He’s got the biggest closet of anybody because he has to blend in wherever he is and stand out when he’s his most Roman,” Heise says. In his Season 4 look (above), he gets a new breastplate, and the secret police emblem on it was hand painted. During downtime in Utah, a trip to Crazy Mary’s Rocks, run by a miner, yielded obsidian made into closures for Atticus’ cloak.

The Chosen

Tamar

For Tamar’s (Amber Shana Williams) red dress, “I had this beautiful orange-red silk, and I just started playing with it,” Heise says. The necklace was hand-made by a local artist. “I wanted it very rough—it’s gotten better with age. The raw amber and raw emeralds have more luster. It’s four years old, and it’s been through wind, rain, snow, whatever, because then they wrote it into the script that she can’t really get rid of it.”

The Chosen

Simon Z 

“He was kind of based on Star Wars,” says Heise of Simon Z’s (Alaa Safi) Zealot attire. She got the galactic idea for the ex-assassin while seeking a variation on the standard T-shaped tunic. “He has a crossover kimono-style jacket with a wide belt for his protection. Because he’s a fighter, he has to be able to move in his clothes.” Heise also put the Zealots in trousers to reflect their class. “The poor would wear pants more than the upper echelon,” she notes.

The Chosen

Jesus

He’s very much still the carpenter. His mother would’ve been making His clothes even as old as He is, at 30, and she would take the time to do the embroidery around the neckline. I find old embroidery patterns,” says Heise of Jesus’ (Jonathan Roumie) ensemble. For the fabric, “I wanted it to be soft and still have that homespun feeling.” To give something a handmade look, Heise hides stitching and uses embroidered yokes, never finishing the edges so they fray. “In Season 4, the texture is a little rougher.”

The Chosen

Matthew

“I talk about Matthew [Paras Patel] a lot because he’s had a lot of different looks in flash-forwards and big flashbacks,” says Heise. She modified Matthew’s existing costumes, created before she joined the show, but tweaked them to maintain the former tax collector’s Roman style: “He is very much Romanesque. He has money and can buy what he wants. He cut his roots off from his Jewish heritage, but as he’s becoming more of the disciple, he’s got more texture to him, rougher, and he’s got a leather belt.”

[stormcried]

Apart the army? So; there was a army once? Or is there still one? There ARE royal guards planted around the Outpost still. So, there was some sort of opposing force still for the Outposts defense. There must've been a reason that there is a security force here. "How come he left? If it's okay to ask..?" Though, the following silence didn't seem to come across wanting to answer it, so, Drake decided to shut up about it. But, Asgore said he'd tell him later about it. For now, Asgore would need to go back to his home and talk to his family. He said he'd be back for him, so, he decided to trust Asgore on that front that he'd come back for him eventually. Drake slides off of his back and sits down onto the mattress. This hotel is interesting. It looked so fancy but simple at the same time. The galactic stars shining through the window when looking above. Asgore however closes the curtains to keep him hidden for now.

Snuggling up under the covers would Drake press his hands against the silk and pulling them over his face. "You promise?" Drake just one last time to be sure. And, when given a reassuring reply would Drake leave it as that. Settling into the covers, would Drake yawn quietly and begin his small slumber. He really was tired, wasn't he? He didn't want to think about anything else, but here he is. Staring at the side of a wall with the lamp nearby the desk. Questions. So MANY questions. Who was Asgore really? Why did he help him? Why did people question him being a human? How did he end up here? Why is he here? He really hoped that Asgore would give him SOME sort of answer to what's going on. He said he'd tell him.

Sleep came to Drake later on, and it finally gave Drake the piece of mind to just let things play out the way they should. He couldn't do anything about it right now. Sleep.. Sleep young Drake. That's all he can do. Although, sleep that night were incredibly restless. Cries and screams of pain in his head. The memories replayed again. The accident. Murmurs for his parents proceeded to whisper in his sleep. And, another scream.

"MAMA!" A exclaim as he shot up in his bed panting heavily. The eyes glowing in response to his abilities activating with tears floating about in a hovering motion. Dammit. Not again. This is the 3rd time these couple weeks. A knock at the door, Drake unsure if he should say anything, but, He decided to anyway. Maybe it's Asgore? Drake sniffles and rubbed his eyes to shut the powers off and would slide off the bed. Leg still hurt. But it wasn't as bad as before. How long had he been out for? Glancing at the clock. It's 8:30 PM. 3 hours about. He sniffles again and embraced his body against the wall. "Wh..who is it?"