#you're a bad liar/need a hand

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

The Jar

Summer of Bad Batch | Week 5 | Prompts: "You're a bad liar" and "Need a hand?"

Summary: After being rescued from Skako Minor and joining Clone Force 99, Echo is still getting used to his modifications.

POV: Echo

Rating: PG

(Word Count: 784)

Read on Ao3

Echo stared at the vacuum-sealed jar of rations with narrowed eyes.

I WILL figure out a way to open you myself, he silently vowed to the small metal container sitting innocuously before him.

Usually the squad had boxes of rations - those were easy to open with one hand - but they had learned the hard way on this assignment that some of the wildlife here on Yrzac were also capable of breaking into the ration boxes, and therefore the sealed jars of food were necessary.

Echo hadn't wanted to admit he didn't know how he'd be able to manage opening the container, just like he'd refused to admit he was still having difficulty negotiating the rocky terrain and climbing with his prosthetic legs, just like he hadn't said a word about the fact the cybernetic implants that had been bored through his skull into his brain were still giving him excruciating headaches despite the med droids' assurances that the pain would dissipate eventually. He'd only been with Clone Force 99 for two weeks. He was NOT going to be a burden, be dead weight, ask for help with simple tasks like getting his own food. He would admit to nothing.

So he had taken the rations jar Wrecker had handed him in the morning, then had claimed he wasn't hungry and he'd eat later. And when Tech had taken watch as the others settled to sleep in the stone ruins where they'd set up camp for the night, Echo had snuck around the corner of one of the crumbling walls and stared at the sealed container, considering his dilemma.

He had tried bracing the jar between his knees to break the seal and unscrew the lid, but the metal jar against metal prosthetics proved too slippery. Same with wedging the jar under his right arm. Using his teeth would do nothing. For a wild moment, he considered throwing the jar against the ground - to release his frustration as much as to see if denting the jar would help - but no, that would be too loud...

"Need a hand?" a soft low voice sounded over his head.

Echo didn't jump, but he had to confess he was slightly startled as he turned to look up at Hunter.

"What?" he stammered. "What, no, I'm fine, I..."

Hunter crossed his arms and blinked at him, the light of the moons falling full on his face and clearly showing he was unimpressed by Echo's protests. "No, you're NOT fine; but if you say it again, I might actually leave you here to struggle with that kriffing impossible jar."

Echo sighed in defeat. "I want to be able to do it myself."

"And you will, just not tonight," Hunter said, holding his hand out for the container. Echo handed it over and Hunter, gripping it tightly in both hands and straining to open it, added, "You've had to adjust to a lot in the past few days, Echo. And you're doing great - better, I think, than anyone else would be able to do. It might take some time to figure out how to do things like open a jar with one hand, but you'll get there. You're an ARC trooper, after all." The lid unsealed with a quiet schhh-lok and Hunter finished unscrewing it before handing the open jar back to Echo. "In the meantime, maybe let your brothers help you every once in a while?"

"Thanks," Echo murmured as he took the jar, hesitating slightly before adding, "And, you know, not just for this," indicating the rations.

Hunter nodded, turning away and taking a few steps back to the campsite before stopping and looking back over his shoulder.

"Oh, and maybe let Tech take a look at your prosthetics? You looked like a newborn shaak trying to find its feet when we were running up that rocky hill today. Tech wouldn't stop going on and on with me about calibration and leverage and friction coefficients or... something, and I'm pretty sure he was referring to your legs."

Smiling ruefully, Echo nodded - of course the squad had noticed his difficulty, he had been foolish to try to hide it from them; but he appreciated that they hadn't mentioned anything to him at the time, for that would have been mortifying. "Yes, sir," he replied; and with this promise, Hunter left him to eat in peace.

He hadn't realized just how hungry he was until he took his first bite of biscuit... He had never been a big eater, but now he finished his day's rations in record time and leaned back against the wall with a contented sigh.

And with his hunger satiated, he suddenly noticed his headache wasn't quite so bad.

@summer-of-bad-batch

[lifblogs]

Mayday

Week 5 Prompt: "You're a bad liar." Alt. Prompt: "Need a hand?" @summer-of-bad-batch Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 6646 Summary: Crosshair falls incredibly ill during a storm, and his family does what they can to help him. Only, there's not much they can do. READ ON AO3

Rain pattered down hard against the stone roof, and against Crosshair’s window above his bed. The dark night had turned into a gloomy, gray dawn, and he could even hear the waves crashing tumultuously against the rocks. For some reason he couldn’t discern he didn’t want to get out of bed. He just didn’t have the energy.

Thunder rumbled, and he winced. Oh, that had been too loud.

A knock sounded on his door (ow), and he tried to suppress a quiet groan, but it came out anyway. He took his pillow and put it over his head.

“Crosshair, you getting up?” Hunter asked. “Wrecker and Tech made breakfast.”

Thank god. It’ll be something palatable.

He wanted to tell Hunter that bit of sarcasm (Hunter actually was a good cook thanks to his enhanced senses), but he felt sluggish, mind moving slowly.

Maybe I’m getting sick.

“Yeah, yeah,” he eventually grumbled at him.

Crosshair sighed, moved his pillow back under him, and slumped down on it.

“Omega’s waiting,” Hunter added.

“Fine,” he breathed.

That was enough to get him moving.

Today typically wouldn’t have been a rest day on Pabu, but they’d all seen the storm coming the night before and had prepared.

Lightning flashed as he finally sat up. Ugh. His limbs shook slightly, and he passed a hand over his tired eyes.

What is wrong with me?

He’d slept the whole night, to his surprise; maybe those medicinal herbs the healer had given him really were helping with his nightmares. So what was the problem?

Crosshair clambered out of bed. He went through the motions of getting ready, wincing at the soft glow of light from his lamp each time his eyes passed over it. Everything took longer, like he was trying to move his limbs through mud.

Eventually he was sitting at the kitchen table with his family. Tech was on his datapad, half-ignoring his food, his two mechno-fingers on his left hand gleaming. In the dim light their lamps provided the scars across the left side of his face looked deeper, more jagged from the shadows.

Omega sat next to Crosshair, excitedly eating the pastries Wrecker and Tech had made, nudging Crosshair, trying to get him to eat something.

For some reason nausea curled in his stomach, but he tried a few bites.

He admitted to himself that if he wasn’t getting sick the flaky pastry with the tangy fruit filling would have been delicious. Yet he was sick, or something was wrong.

Crosshair sat with his hand under his chin, eyeing everyone tiredly.

His family was talking about Phee and whether she was safe today (though she could easily handle herself), and Hunter was trying to keep Batcher away from the food, but Crosshair wasn’t really taking it in.

Omega nudged him, and he glanced at her.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

Crosshair sighed, and pushed his plate away.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked.

“Not hungry.”

Crosshair thought of the projects he could work on while inside, something to bring life to Pabu, and earn his family some money or traded goods. He supposed he could try to work on his paintings, but there wasn’t really good lighting for that. Maybe there were some nets he could weave?

“Here, maybe this’ll help,” Wrecker said, handing over a mug of caf.

What is the logic in this? Yet…

Knowing Wrecker it was strong, and bitter. The thought turned Crosshair’s stomach.

Yet, if he put a lot of cream and sugar in it like he did for Omega’s small, small cups (he did not want her drinking so much caf so young, but they let her have some or else she’d steal theirs) maybe it’d taste good. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want the sweetness of the pastry, but suddenly wanted a sweet cup of caf.

His movements were slow as he prepared it.

Crosshair ended up moving to the couch in their living room. The living room was actually in the same room as the kitchen, no wall dividing them since the open space had better air circulation, so he wasn’t being too antisocial. Was he?

Crosshair grabbed one of the nets he’d been working on the night before, right hand trembling as he tried to tie the knots. This wasn’t like painting. For some reason painting stilled his hand. This was more difficult, but when he took his time everyone said he was even better at this than any of his brothers.

Batcher rushed over, and instantly put herself under the net. She wasn’t trying to steal it at the moment, just nudging her head up into it, so he didn’t admonish her.

Omega, another pastry in her hand, sat next to him, taking the net off of a disappointed Batcher. But the smell of food had her nudging at Omega.

“Don’t get that on the couch,” Crosshair told Omega about her breakfast.

Mouth full, a crumb falling onto her lap that Batcher immediately licked up, she mumbled out, “I won’t.”

“Mm hmm.”

A few seconds passed, Omega thoroughly enjoying her food, and Batcher trying to climb up into her lap.

“How are you not full yet?” Crosshair ended up asking Omega.

She shrugged.

Maybe it was something to do with how she’d sprouted so much recently, and all the growing pains she was dealing with.

The others set to their own tasks after breakfast. Tech started working on something at the table, and Crosshair glanced over, curious, seeing tech strewn about, accompanied by the flash and hiss of a solder. Wrecker was also at the table, looking over architecture plans for an aquarium he was helping to make in lower Pabu, though he kept getting distracted talking to Tech about the fish and marine life they’d be helping. Hunter was washing the dishes.

Rain continued to pound down in thick sheets, the ocean’s wrath a constant roaring reminder. Batcher decided hiding under the kitchen table, nestled between Tech’s and Wrecker’s legs was the safest place to be for the moment. She whined a bit from the storm, and Wrecker pressed his leg against her to try and comfort her.

Lightning flashed, blue and brilliant. Even with the curtains closed Crosshair saw the flash, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Thunder boomed around them.

It was so loud!

Argh!

Crosshair put his head down, wincing.

Suddenly, Wrecker complained, “Tech, don’t do that with your eye.”

“The lightning is too bright. I’m simply making an adjustment so I don’t get a headache.”

“At least take it out in your room.”

“You have a cybernetic eye too.”

“Do you see me taking it out at the kriffing table?”

“Language,” Hunter reprimanded.

Omega giggled, though Crosshair could now feel her watching him, and she put a hand on his arm.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmph.”

Crosshair fumbled a knot, and had to untie it, starting over. Hunter finished with the dishes and sat in a chair by the window, probably taking note of Crosshair struggling with his work.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

Can’t they all just leave me alone?

“No.”

His body froze up for an indiscernible reason, even as weakness flooded his limbs like cold water. 

Something’s… wrong.

Something’s…

Crosshair wanted to tell his family. He wanted to…

The net fell from his hands.

He wanted…

He…

Crosshair was no longer sure what he was looking at. His mind took in that yes there was something, but what? The words seemed to have been erased from his head. Comprehension and language floated away. He could feel it leaving him.

If only he could…

He looked around, feeling like everything was thumping through his body. What that “everything” was, he didn’t know.

There was a sensation at his arm, a… a face in his field of view. But whose face?

What was… a… face?

Crosshair’s head (he thought maybe it was his head) started pounding, and pounding, and aching, like someone was hitting him with a stone, or a wooden beam, like they’d bypassed his skull and directly hammered his brain. He could have sworn someone or something was trying to scoop out his right eye with a spoon, the pain going all the way down into his teeth.

He curled in on himself; maybe he was groaning, maybe he didn’t make a sound.

Where am I? And why did it matter?

Who… who am I?

What am I?

Crosshair—is that my name? What’s a name?—couldn’t think, couldn’t comprehend anything.

And the pain. Oh, stars, the pain. He just wanted someone to stop hitting his head! Why couldn’t they stop?

Please…

Everything seemed to be… shaking.

There was pressure against his arms, his back, his field of view changing, body moving. Dizziness nearly had him collapsing.

He was lying on something now, something glowing too bright in his vision, searing his eyes.

He groaned, and rolled over, head sloshing.

His ears picked up on sound—maybe language—and it all hurt, like someone was puncturing his eardrums with picks and getting right inside his brain.

There was pressure on his shoulder, his back. Something was placed over him, and he perhaps felt a bit warmer, maybe more comforted.

The light was thankfully turned off, and he was left alone. Head swimming, not knowing a thing, he closed his eyes, and wished for it to end.

Instead, he floated in the madness, the suffering, the confusion, the raging tempest.

Help.

Omega was drinking Crosshair’s cup of caf, even though it was no longer hot. Holding the mug at least kept her hands from trembling. They’d gotten Crosshair in bed, but he hadn’t been able to say a word to them. He had just mumbled and moaned, and was otherwise completely unresponsive. But he was in pain. Omega had seen it in how he had curled in on himself, had heard it deep in his rasping voice.

Batcher was trying to go into his room, but worrying she’d be too loud, Wrecker was on the floor in front of the door, deterring her.

“We need to get AZI,” Omega said. “I think he was last at Shep’s checking on Lyana’s cold.”

“I agree,” Hunter told her, rising.

“I’ll go,” Tech volunteered, also standing, albeit with a slight hitch when he put weight on his left leg.

Omega took a big sip of the incredibly sugary cup of caf, and decided, “I’m going with you.”

“I’ll watch over Crosshair,” Wrecker volunteered, petting Batcher hard as she nuzzled into his hand.

Hunter crossed his arms, looking thoughtful.

“I’ll stay too. Tech, Omega, be quick.” Hunter stepped in towards Tech, and asked, “Do you still have that brain scanner you used for the chips?”

Tech pressed his lips together, shaking his head.

Hunter put a hand on his shoulder. “All right. Be safe. This is a bad storm.”

Omega and Tech got ready in their ponchos to head outside. She glanced at his left leg. Was it acting up today?

He didn’t bring it up, so Omega didn’t ask him. Her gut was clenching, and she kept leaning forward a bit, putting weight on the tips of her toes, feeling the horrible need to get going.

What was wrong with Crosshair was… scary. She’d never seen anything like this before. He had been completely unresponsive, and his eyes had been unfocused (when they were even open). His breaths had been coming in quick pants and gasps.

A groan sounded from his room.

Tech put an urgent hand against her back. “Come on.”

Rain pounded down on them as soon as the door was open, pattering at least a meter into the kitchen.

Omega headed out first, ignoring the discomfort of the storm upon her, Tech following behind her.

She walked fast, but it didn’t feel quick enough. They passed house after house, lamps and plants and other various decorations blowing in the harsh breeze, soft light leaking through the curtains out into the dreary day. Some trees had fallen down, but most of the outdoor furniture had been tied down the night before so it could stay in place. Still, there were a few tables and chairs strewn about in their path, along with various debris. Omega hoped Phee was okay, but reminded herself she probably was. The problem was Crosshair.

“How’s your leg and hip today?” she asked, huffing slightly as they went up the winding path to Shep’s, the wind fighting against them. She had an arm up to shield her face from the rain.

“Fine,” Tech answered, voice faint under the roaring of the rain and wind, the booming of thunder. 

He gripped his hood tightly. Omega had completely given up on hers.

“You’re a bad liar too,” she called to him.

“Fine. Yet I do believe I am well enough to jog,” he admitted.

That was all Omega needed to hear.

Lukewarm rain pelted them in the muggy air. Lightning flashed. Thunder sounded. From the sea wall she could see the grueling, foamy waves, homes that had been evacuated being pounded by water before it receded for a few seconds, only to flood around them—and possibly in them—once more.

And Omega couldn’t stop thinking about how Crosshair had held his head, how his eyes had grown unfocused, the agonized groan he’d let out after dropping the net.

There could be something wrong with his brain.

“Have you seen anything like that before?” Omega called to Tech, who raced beside her, his left hip dropping lower than the right one.

They dodged an airborne flower pot, clay smashing against stone.

“No, not really. But perhaps he’s having a seizure of some sort.”

Fear gripped Omega’s throat tight, and she broke into a run, not at all caring for the slippery rock, and the puddles she splashed through, soaking her from head to toe.

“Wait up!” Tech called.

“Why did you volunteer?” Omega asked, voice accidentally coming out much snippier than she had wanted. Oops. “I can tell your leg needs a tune-up. Did you take all your medicine?”

“Stop mothering me.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Only in one way,” Tech pointed out. Then eventually he said, “I wanted to help. I wanted to do something useful for once. I… have much to make up for.”

Omega couldn’t help how she stopped in the rain, almost slipping, but catching herself, and turning to Tech: Tech, who looked so different after his Fall, his imprisonment, his brainwashing. She met his eyes unflinchingly—the brown, and the cybernetic.

“Tech, you have nothing to make up for.”

“I… know.”

From the way he bowed his head she could tell he didn’t.

“Well, let’s do this then.” She took his hand, lacing their fingers without a care that she was touching his two cybernetic ones. “Come on.”

Tech fought against the storm with her.

By the time they made it to Shep’s and Lyana’s, Omega was sweating and soaked through with rain. Tech was too. They were both panting as they knocked urgently on the door.

Lyana opened it up, hair gusting back violently, her eyes squinting against the wind.

Omega could hear AZI saying, “I do not think it wise to go out in the rain in your condition.”

“Omega? Tech? What’s wrong?” Lyana asked, sniffling, voice stuffed with congestion. 

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and Omega wished she had more time to check up on her. Though she was glad that she’d picked up on their obvious distress so they could skip the pleasantries.

Lightning flashed, and the resulting thunder seemed to shake the whole island.

“It’s Crosshair. He’s sick or—or something,” Omega panted out. “We need AZI. Quick.”

“Oh, I do not like rain.”

Omega raced in to grab him, gritting her teeth against his reluctance. “You were made on Kamino. It’s fine.”

“I never said I liked Kamino either.” Then he shot back at Lyana, “Stay inside.”

As Omega was leaving, Lyana put a hand on her arm, “Please let us know if Crosshair’s okay. As soon as you can.”

“We will,” Tech assured.

The race down the island was harder with the wet rock, and Omega’s shins were burning. Tech was managing all right, and even managed to pull Omega out of the way of an errant, flying deck chair.

They were filling in AZI on Crosshair’s condition as they hurried back home, and Tech suggested he could be having some kind of seizure.

AZI started running through the potential problems, and Omega felt her eyes trying to fill with tears. She lied to herself that it was just the rain, but she was a bad liar too.

There was so much that could be wrong: brain aneurysm, migraine, seizure, cranial hematoma, stroke, apparently even a heart attack. It all sounded so horrifying. Omega hated that she wasn’t by his side right this instant. Tech picked up the pace, only slipping and needing to catch himself a couple of times, though he winced. Omega wondered what this was doing to his lower back.

Yet she could see his love and determination as he raced back home, a love that Omega shared. Crosshair was an important member of their family.

They made it back home, and Omega didn’t bother taking her poncho off, leading AZI right to Crosshair’s room down the main hall.

She turned on the lamp, which caused Crosshair to groan, and roll over onto his stomach. He was shivering and sweating. She felt his head for a fever, but he was cool to the touch.

She did her best to not say anything, wondering if sound was hurting him too.

She pulled up a chair, and waited as AZI started what tests he could.

Hunter was pacing outside Crosshair’s room. He’d monitored his breathing and heart rate the whole time that Tech and Omega had been gone, able to hear it clear as day. Wrecker sat on the couch, hands clasped, rocking back and forth. Batcher had nestled in beside him, but her head was in the direction of Crosshair’s room. Clearly she knew something was wrong.

Hunter could hear AZI performing various tests, Crosshair groaning the whole time.

Omega, still soaked, suddenly rushed to the doorway.

“We need a bucket.”

In a flash Hunter was moving to the refresher, grabbing a bucket from under the counter, and unceremoniously dumping the cleaning supplies it held onto the tile floor. He belatedly realized that the clattering might have been too loud for Crosshair. He rushed back to Omega, handing it to her. She was back in the dimly lit room.

The sound of a hand smoothing against fabric reached his ears, and when he peeked in Omega was rubbing Crosshair’s back.

She and AZI had managed to get him hunched over the bucket.

A terrible moan left him, and Wrecker stood up, Batcher whining since she had just been placing her head in his lap.

Hunter held him back.

“He needs his space.”

Wrecker groaned, and hung his head.

Tech was leaning against a wall in the kitchen, dripping water, datapad in hand, fingers typing away faster than usual—a sure sign of his anxiety. He winced when he switched which leg held the most weight.

Hunter leaned his head down, and put his back against the wall when he heard Crosshair throw up. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Thunder shook the house.

He was tapping his toes against the floor, wishing there was something he could do, anything! He wanted to be in the room with them, but he worried it’d be too overwhelming. And, he didn’t trust himself to not get in the way. Crosshair needed these tests, not another person taking up his space.

But please, anything to help Crosshair.

“That’s it?” Omega suddenly asked, tone straightening Hunter’s spine. “No, no, that can’t be it. Please, there has to be something!”

That’s it.

He made to enter Crosshair’s room.

AZI floated over, blocking the doorway, and in a flash Wrecker and Tech were by Hunter’s side. Omega leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, lower lip trembling.

Hunter blinked at the sight, and reached out to her, rubbing her arm. Then he brought everything back into perspective, looking to AZI, who tapped his fingers together.

“Well?” he asked.

AZI held his little arms out in the approximation of a shrug. “I have tested him for everything I can think of, and was able to scan his brain. From what I can see there’s nothing wrong.”

Omega just about stamped her foot.

“Something’s obviously wrong,” Wrecker argued.

“I agree. These symptoms are quite unusual for the tests to not show anything. Perhaps this is just a migraine.”

“Just a migraine?” Hunter asked.

“Migraines can be quite severe,” Tech chimed in.

AZI floated closer to Hunter, and asked, failing to whisper, “How has his hand been?”

“The—the same,” he responded, taken aback by the question. Then it dawned on him. “Wait, are you saying this could be trauma related?”

“It is quite possible.”

Hunter glanced back at Tech, thinking about all his trauma symptoms he suffered from as well. Though, his didn’t make physical manifestations quite in the same way Crosshair’s seemed to. And Phee seemed to help. Crosshair didn’t have that, though maybe he didn’t need it. He had them.

“Was there anything that happened on this day?” AZI asked. “Anything you can recall?”

Hunter frowned, rubbing at his chin.

“No,” Omega sighed, chest caving with defeat.

“We were apart for some time,” Hunter said, that old regret an uncomfortable, lukewarm ache right above his stomach. He looked back at Wrecker and Tech. “Did he mention anything to you?”

Wrecker rubbed at the back of his head, looking down. Tech lifted his head from his datapad, squinting as he thought.

“No, nothing,” Wrecker said.

“I can’t recall anything either,” Tech responded.

“Will he get better?” Hunter asked.

“I assume so. Whatever is causing this in his mind will pass. Sometimes the body remembers things we do not. He could very well be better tomorrow.”

“And what if he’s not?” Wrecker asked. “What are we supposed to do? AZI, I don’t even think he knows where he is.”

“It is quite possible he does not know. We can treat symptoms for now to keep him comfortable. I have given him some injections for the nausea and pain.”

Hunter peered around AZI and Omega to where Crosshair was lying in bed, hopefully asleep. His shaking had thankfully subsided, and his breathing was a little easer. His heart rate had slowed.

“Well, thanks for your help, AZI,” Hunter said, tone low, deflated that there wasn’t more they could do. 

His body was tense, the chemicals in his brain telling his whole system that there was a problem, and as a soldier he had been able to fix many problems and dangers with physical action. Now, there was nothing he could do. His nerves were shot.

“I can stay in case he needs more immediate care,” AZI suggested.

Tech chimed in, a pointer finger raised, “I would like that.”

“Yeah, me too,” Wrecker agreed.

“Looks like you’re sticking around,” Hunter said.

AZI gave a little bob and retreated back into Crosshair’s room, Omega doing the same, hugging a pillow to her chest as she sat in the chair she’d pulled up before his bed.

Hunter didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself.

Wrecker put a gentle hand on Omega’s cold, wet shoulder, kneeling down beside her. She was tense, body as hard as the stone walls keeping them safe from the storm. He glanced at Crosshair, who might have been sleeping; he hoped he was. AZI was in the corner, monitoring things.

“Hey, I need some help making lunch,” Wrecker said to Omega.

“I don’t want lunch.”

“Well, everyone else does.” 

Which wasn’t exactly true, but Wrecker couldn’t let Omega keep sitting here doing nothing. Tech had fallen into his work, though his right leg bounced anxiously, and Hunter was using the living room to workout and roughhouse with Batcher. Omega needed something.

She finally pulled her gaze from Crosshair, and Wrecker felt some success at this.

She sighed. “What are we making?”

“Can’t tell you yet,” he said softly. “I won’t have you making lunch in wet clothes.”

Omega frowned, looking down at herself. She was even still in her purple poncho.

“Oh.”

He wasn’t surprised she’d forgotten. Wrecker had often forgotten his own physical state while watching over his brothers when they were sick or injured. Once he’d forgotten about a deep slash to his arm, and had bled everywhere, and then had barely felt a thing as a droid stitched it up. He’d been so focused on Hunter at the time, who had fared much worse than he had on that particular mission.

Wrecker wasn’t sure he wanted food, either. But there was nothing they could do for Crosshair for now, and in case he did need them they had to keep up their strength. Besides, he had a fun recipe planned that he knew Omega would usually feel joy from. It was worth a shot.

She nodded, and winced slightly, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Yeah, I’ll change.”

“Good. Meet you in the kitchen.”

Wrecker was getting out the ingredients for the noodles by the time Omega came over in a fresh set of clothes, her hair wrung out. She took a seat at the counter, kicking her legs.

“So what are we making?”

“I dunno the name,” Wrecker admitted, the dialect from the culture it had come from flying right over his head even faster than basic tended to. “But, we start with noodles.”

Omega brightened somewhat at that, as Wrecker had hoped she would. They always had a good time making noodles together.

This recipe called for milk, rather than egg, which thickened up the dough quickly once they’d made the well in the flour and started to mix.

In no time at all, Wrecker and Omega were at the counter, rolling out their own separate sheets of the blue dough. Though, she kept her head down, maybe in concentration, but there was a stiffness to her neck, and she kept angling her face away from him.

“Crosshair’s gonna be okay,” Wrecker told her.

“How do you know?”

Wrecker shrugged. “I guess I don’t know for certain, but AZI thinks he’ll be all right, and… well, with whatever’s going on with him, he can get through this. He’s strong.”

“Yeah. He is.”

Omega pounded her dough a bit too hard, but Wrecker let her do it. She had to get out her feelings somehow.

Wrecker tried to hold in a grin as they started slicing up the dough to shape the noodles. He picked up a thick strand, and then flung it at Omega. It hit her face, sticking to it a bit before dropping down.

She gasped, but then lifted up her head, grabbing the noodle and flinging it back at him. A hitched giggle left her, as if she were surprised by it.

As they started to fling noodles at each other, cutting them fast and haphazardly into the dough, Tech groaned and moved his stuff to the other side of the room. “Please do not get those on my work!”

Omega dodged a noodle, and Batcher caught it.

Wrecker didn’t exactly want Batcher eating their food, but he couldn’t help but laugh.

Hunter was up now, panting a little from his workout, a surprised smile on his face.

“How are we going to have anything to eat if you throw it all at each other?” he asked.

Wrecker stopped, noodle in hand, its own weight stretching it and making it drip down onto the counter.

“Oh, right.”

Omega giggled, and they got back to work, trying to be very serious about it. Wrecker flicked a noodle in her direction, and she snorted.

Hunter ended up helping, chopping up the various squid and octopi and shrimp they’d need. Omega was soon cleaning out the clams, and Wrecker chopped up the herbs, tomatoes, and peppers.

Together Wrecker and Omega breaded the squid, and Hunter was frying up the seafood, asking Wrecker repeatedly for instructions and how he wanted all the ingredients added together. The other pan for the squid was heating up.

Omega set water to boiling for the noodles, and Wrecker started frying up the squid.

Sizzling and bubbling and the scent of good food filled the kitchen.

“That smells very good,” Tech complimented.

“Can I have the wine?” Hunter asked.

Omega grabbed it for him from their little pantry near the counter, and passed it over. Hunter splashed some into the pan with all the seafood. Omega leaned in over the counter, and checked the pot.

Wrecker almost said a watched pot never boils, but it was good to see her occupied.

Batcher had padded over, lured by the scent of cooking seafood.

Wrecker almost snuck her a piece of the fried squid, but he resisted the temptation. Yet she was so cute! It was hard not doing everything she wanted.

She started pawing at Hunter, and he asked, “Tech, can you give Batcher some treats?”

“I’m a little busy.”

“What are you working on?” Omega asked.

“I am creating a new brain scanner… just to be safe.”

Crosshair moaned, and five heads turned towards his room.

Omega tensed from where she was perched on the counter.

“Should… should we check on him?”

Tech stood, breath hitching a little at first, a fist pressed against the table. “I’ll do it.”

Wrecker was dying to check, but he did have to get the noodles in the water if they wanted everything cooked on time. He craned his head around the cabinets, wishing he could see into Crosshair’s room rather than just glimpse a dark doorway at the beginning of the hall.

Tech limped as he went over. Wrecker wondered if the storm was bothering his scarring and permanent injuries. His own scars ached today.

Lightning flashed hard enough to shake the house, and Batcher ducked down, Omega reaching over to comfort her.

Somewhat reluctantly, Wrecker got back to work, putting the thick blue noodles in the water.

An ache was running up into his head, and he realized his jaw was clenched tight.

He breathed out hard, trying to release the pressure.

Hunter put a hand on his elbow, and just that acknowledgement and reassurance centered him a bit more. Yet he realized he felt like the ground was going to fall out beneath him, like he wasn’t standing in his kitchen making lunch with his family.

Tech came back in, and Wrecker widened his eyes, taking in his tired stance. He took a seat at the counter, engineering project abandoned for now.

“He’s… he’s holding up okay,” Tech said. “I think. It’s a little hard to tell, but AZI isn’t overly concerned. Though he did mention he might need an IV.”

“We don’t have those supplies,” Omega said.

Hunter was drying his hands as he said, raising his voice over the sizzling pans, “I could go to the healer’s, see if she has any available.”

“I believe she had to evacuate to upper Pabu,” Tech said. “I’m not sure where she is, or that she’d have what we need with her.”

Idly, he tried to reach over to the pan with the squid, and Wrecker slapped his hand away.

Tech rolled his eyes at him, but settled down.

In about ten more minutes, almost all of them were sitting at the table with their delicious lunch, noodles piled high with seafood, Crosshair’s vacant seat a horrible reminder of what their brother was enduring.

Tech kept glancing at it, stomach feeling hollow.

He forced himself to eat, tried to take the time to enjoy the various enriching flavors that bit pleasantly at his tongue. And he tried not to groan from where he sat in his chair, body aching in more places than he wanted to count.

There seemed to be a pit in his stomach, a dark shadow writhing inside his brain.

A part of him kept blaming himself, as it always did, murmuring, You did this. You hurt them. You hurt all of them.

The wind smashed one of their flowerpots (hopefully not one Crosshair had made). Hunter groaned, and Wrecker and Omega sighed. Tech flinched, tensing. Unable to release the tension, he tried to ignore it, and speared a piece of the fried squid onto his fork.

Eating sometimes felt… odd, which was to be expected with a branded tongue and memories of normalcy, and it felt odd now. But more than that, Crosshair’s seat was too empty.

You hurt him.

He knew it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t help but feel the blood rushing through him, pounding, pounding; couldn’t help the thorny darkness that expanded in his lungs, stealing his breath.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hanging his head, the squid forgotten on his fork.

Wrecker’s foot nudged him under the table, a subtle reminder of where he was, who he was with, and yet…

You hurt them. Your hurt all of them.

Tech tried to inhale, tried to fight the darkness back, but it just fought back harder, an equal reaction to him pushing on it like it was some sort of real force within him. It expanded into his stomach.

Tech put his fork down.

Crosshair groaned, making everyone at the table tense.

Tech, feeling horrible that his family had made such nice food and he couldn’t eat it, tried to stutter out some excuse, and then gave in to the tether he felt pulling himself inexorably towards Crosshair’s room.

Besides, it was surely his turn to sit and see if his brother was safe.

Tech missed the companionship of his family as he sat in the dark, watching over Crosshair, but at the moment he didn’t feel like he could be anywhere else.

He wished he could talk to him, tell him it was going to be okay, but he imagined even the sound of his voice would be like a knife through his head.

Tech waited.

Recognition slowly came back to Crosshair, though he was unsure how long it had taken, time still out of reach of his weekly-grasping mind. He was in his room, in near-darkness, a droid—AZI?—hovering in one corner, and… and someone beside him.

Crosshair groaned, and lifted a heavy arm to rub at his right eye.

Pain was subsiding.

Outside, the storm had calmed to a gentle rainfall, wind only whistling slightly instead of gusting and bellowing.

“What time is it?” he grumbled into the dark room, wondering if someone really was there.

“I believe it is eight p.m.” Tech responded.

Crosshair let out another groan, and slowly turned his head towards him.

He almost remembered what had happened, and there were lingering remnants: nausea, vertigo, some pain. Things were very slowly starting to make sense.

Tech pulled out his datapad (that’s what that was, right?), and held it close, keeping the light away from Crosshair.

“Correction,” he stated. “It is eight-oh-four p.m.”

“Thanks.”

AZI floated over, and the light almost didn’t bother Crosshair. “How are you feeling?” AZI asked.

“Like I got hit by a speeder,” Crosshair responded. “A large one.”

Or like he had the worst hangover of his life.

“We believe you suffered from a severe migraine,” Tech told him.

“Why would that happen?” Crosshair asked, grunting as he sat up in bed. He leaned over, rubbing at his eyes.

The silence was deafening.

He looked over. “What?” he spat.

“All of your physical tests came back normal,” AZI responded. “We believe your migraine was due to trauma.”

“But I didn’t hit my head,” he argued.

“Mental trauma,” Tech clarified.

Crosshair gritted his teeth, holding in a growl.

Kriff!

Energy suddenly flooded him as he had the urge to throw something, but the sickness in his body kept him in the bed. The two battling forces ended up with him breathing hard, shaking.

Tech put a hand on his shoulder, and Crosshair leaned into it slightly. He didn’t tell him it was going to be okay. Sometimes you just weren’t okay. How could he be?

He had thought maybe he was getting a handle on this, expressing himself through painting and even the spare bit of pottery-making, the tremors stilling as he worked. But now there was this? Did that mean this could happen again? Crosshair had never been so sick in his entire life.

He realized he was hyperventilating, sobbing, snot dripping out of his nose.

“Breathe,” Tech told him. “Just breathe.”

I am!

Though from anyone else the words would be condescending. From Tech, from someone who shared pain deeper than their very marrow, it wasn’t. He knew. He understood, even if his brain wasn’t stupid enough to come up with things for his body to feel because he couldn’t handle it.

Oh, kriff, he was so scared.

He turned, leaning into Tech, instinct and pain telling him he needed protection, that he had to watch his back. With Tech there, he knew he was safe.

In a few minutes Crosshair had calmed down somewhat, exhausted body simply not letting his panic attack continue.

Finally, in the silence, Tech asked, “Are you all right?”

Crosshair shook his head.

“That’s okay.”

“Excuse me,” AZI said, “just to be safe I think I should run more tests.”

Crosshair gave the barest of nods, and leaned back so AZI could have access to him.

In a few minutes he was given a somewhat clean bill of health. Though, he wasn’t sure what he could do for his mind. Helplessness surrounded him, pressed in through his pores, his orifices, seeping down into his bones.

Tech had a hand on his knee, which… it was something. He was with his family, he was home—home, a word he had once thought he’d never have again.

This was all so exhausting, and yet his stomach grumbled, and he thought he could smell leftover remnants of a good meal.

The uncertainty of his situation, of his health, dug into his brain like wire and spikes, settling along his brain stem, making his spine rigid. He didn’t know if he was going to be okay. He just never wanted this to happen again.

AZI explained that perhaps his body remembered something traumatic that he hadn’t been able to keep track of. He supposed that was a reasonable explanation.

With a long-suffering sigh he managed to drag himself out of bed.

He sat at the table, Batcher sitting under said table so she could lean against his legs. No places but his were taken, everyone in the living room to give him some space. It was… nice to have them around, and nice not to be crowded by them immediately. Tech kept glancing his way, though he was pretending to have his nose buried in his datapad. Wrecker, Hunter, and Omega were doing the same, “busy” with other pursuits.

Crosshair sighed.

“I don’t know what happened,” he admitted. “I… don’t know what today could have been an anniversary of.”

Everyone seemed to take that just fine, but Crosshair didn’t.

He wondered, he wanted to know. He couldn’t remember.

Nothing came to him as he ate the admittedly scrumptious meal his family had made for lunch while he had been sleeping, while he had been… suffering, completely lost, mind gone. He was still slowly coming back to himself, not fully recovered just yet.

What could it possibly be?

Crosshair hadn’t been keeping track during his late days with the Empire, but his body knew, and it would always know: it was a year to the day that Mayday had died beside him, killed at the hands of a cruel, and uncaring Empire.

[wreywrites]

Sharing

Summer of Bad Batch Week 5

Prompts: "You're a bad liar" & "Need a hand?"

A/N: Short one this week, but here we are. Warnings: None AO3

“Uhh, your… hand…?” The kid at the next stall stared at Crosshair.

Crosshair glared back. The kid finally took the hint and wandered off.

“You know you’ll have to start telling people a story about it.” Omega sat on the other end of the bench. “People kind of know you around here, and they know you haven’t always had one hand.”

“A story?” Crosshair raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be the truth. Just… an answer for their questions.”

“So… I lost a fight with a rancor.”

“Yeah.”

“I beat Wrecker at Fours and he bit me and it got infected.”

“Sure.”

“Echo actually lost both of his hands, so he took one of mine so now we both have one real hand and one stump.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

Crosshair held up a finger for silence. “I brought it on myself, though, because Echo was struggling with something so I said, ‘Need a hand?’ and he took me literally.”

“You mean he took your hand literally.”

“Yep.”

The silence that fell was soon interrupted by Crosshair’s snort, then Omega’s giggle, and soon they were both laughing, and for a moment it didn’t matter how many hands anyone had—or that Crosshair and Echo were, in fact, missing the same hand—only that they all had each other.

@summer-of-bad-batch

[summer-of-bad-batch]

Week 5 Prompt Drop!!

Main Prompt: "You're a bad liar."

Alternative Prompt: "Need a hand?"

It's the end of our first month of Summer of Bad Batch 2024...going into July with 2 dialogue prompts!! How are we feeling? 🥰 I've loved seeing all the amazing fills thus far, and look forward to so many more!

Remember to tag @summer-of-bad-batch if you're posting on Tumblr for a chance to be reblogged (sometimes posts don't show up when I look up the tags...I don't know why...but proper tags also help me when I'm reblogging!)

This week's tags:

#summerofbadbatch #week5 #you're a bad liar #need a hand?

[happydragon]

Useful Skill

Phee and Crosshair come to an understanding

Ao3

Rating: G

Word Count: 960

Hope y'all enjoy!!

@summer-of-bad-batch

Phee lisented as Crosshair cursed and struggled through his task. He didn’t know she was there since he probably would have snarked at her to leave if he did. She hadn’t even meant to sneak up on him in the first place, but then she heard a cursed shout which scared a poor moon-yo. When she went to find out the source, she discovered a very frustrated sniper as he struggled with his prosthetic hand. He seemed to be trying to do some maintenance on it but wasn’t making much progress. After a few more curses and a handful of groans, she decided enough was enough.

“Need a hand?” she asked as she approached closer. 

He briefly lifted his eyes, not surprised she was standing there. He tinkered a bit more before he finally gave up and threw the tool to the ground. 

“Be my guest,” he hissed as he turned away but held his hand out for her. She raised a skeptical brow but picked up the tool and sat a respectable distance from the sulking man. Both for his comfort and her safety. Can never be too sure if someone bites when aggravated. 

“What seems to be the problem?” She asked as she took his hand to inspect it. When he remained quiet, she glanced up with an expectant look and found him still turned away from her. 

“Listen, as much as I understand you don’t like me, I can’t fix a problem if I don’t know what it is.”

He finally turned to her with an annoyed frown but finally spoke, “Blasted thing won’t respond when I try to do anything. I pick something up only to end up dropping it two minutes later.”

She hummed as she turned back to the offensive item in question. With a slight press of her finger, she opened the compartment that hid all the wiring. She inspected the wiring, carefully using the tool to push aside the wiring so she wouldn’t accidentally cause him pain. 

As she worked, she could feel Crosshair’s eyes watching her every move. It wasn’t so much annoying as it was curious. He usually kept their interactions to a minimum. Hunter assured he was like that with everyone when he first met them and to be fair to Crosshair she has enjoyed getting under his skin just a little too much. He reminded her of Tech, although she used a different method to get under his skin. She sometimes made it a game to see how red she could get his cheeks in the shortest amount of time. Although the things he could say, she could swear made her heart stop. 

With one final click, she finished and handed the tool back to him.

“Should work smoothly now,” she announced as she stood back up and dusted herself. She watched as he flexed his trembling fingers, testing the movements. After a moment he nodded, so she turned to take her leave. 

“I don’t hate you, you know?” he said, causing her to turn back. He now stood, massaging the back of his prosthetic hand as he stared at the ground. 

“Yeah, I know. I also know I don’t make it the easiest for you.”

“Yeah, well I suppose I could be less cruel.”

She hummed but said nothing. Guess they were both at fault. 

“Where did you learn how to do that anyway?” he asked, “You don’t seem-”

“Like the smart type?”

“Your words, not mine.”

She gave a small laugh with a shake of her head. 

“Learned from Brown Eyes.” Crosshair paused in mistrations. “He said it could be used for more than just prosthetics. Like when I need to repair Mel.”

Now it was Crosshair’s turn to hum. She almost decided to turn back but then he spoke up again. 

“What,” a pause, “what was he to you?” 

That took her by surprise. She figured he had been filled in on their relationship by the others or at least had an idea of it. Maybe he wanted a better understanding. 

“Well I’d say we’re what you hope to be with Jana,” she said, unable to resist the chance to tease him. It worked, with his mouth immediately turning into a scowl as his cheeks darkened, if only slightly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a bad liar, you know that right? Most of you are. Funny how the sweetest one of all of you is the best liar.”

That made him actually bark a short laugh, which in turn made her smile. He deserved a good laugh. He and his siblings. If there was one thing she enjoyed more than teasing Tech, it was making him laugh. He had a great laugh. Not too bad of a smile either. She missed that smile. So kriffing much.

“To answer your question,” she began as she looked down, “We never had a chance to define what we were.” 

Crosshair nodded and didn’t press further. It felt strange to talk about it. Shep, Hunter, and Wrecker never asked, but Shep wasn’t a pushy person and the latter two had more pressing matters. It sort of felt nice to let out in the open. While it hurt, it made it real. Whatever they were, it was real. 

“Thanks again for the hand,” he interrupted her thoughts.

“Yeah, well, you know where to find me if you need me.”

“Right, I’ll be sure to look for where there's buried treasure.”

“Oh he’s got jokes now,” she laughed, not the slightest bit upset. 

“I’m full of surprises.”

With that, he wandered off, leaving Phee with her thoughts once more. As she watched him go, she secretly hoped that Crosshair and Jana would have the chance she never did.

I like to think it took a bit before Phee and Crosshair got along, but now that they've teamed up, pray for Hunter's sanity lol

[stardustloki]

The Unfairness of Life

Omega stared down in horror at the blood.

For that was what it was - blood. She’d seen enough of it on clothes and old bandages to be able to recognise the deep brown colour in a heartbeat, to know the crusty way it dried onto fabric.

So, she had internal bleeding. That was fine, that was manageable, they could fix this.

-

Or: Omega gets her first period, and has no idea what it is. Thankfully, Lyana is there for her.

-

Tags: Omega & Lyana, Hurt/Comfort, Omega is so unimpressed by puberty, it's gross, babies should grow in tubes, as is Right and Proper

Read it below the cut, or on ao3 here.

Omega stared down in horror at the blood.

For that was what it was - blood. She’d seen enough of it on clothes and old bandages to be able to recognise the deep brown colour in a heartbeat, to know the crusty way it dried onto fabric.

Kriff.

She forced herself to take deep, steady breaths, in the way her brothers had taught her, ignoring the way her head had started to spin.

So, she had internal bleeding. That was fine, that was manageable, they could fix this. The fact that she wasn’t in any pain yet and that the amount of blood she’d lost was small enough that it had already dried seemed to indicate that she wasn’t in any immediate danger of bleeding out. She would just need to get back to her brothers, who could run a full medical scan, and heal whatever the problem was.

This was fine.

A tentative knock came from the bathroom door before Lyana’s voice filtered through, hesitant and uncertain, “Omega, are you okay in there?”

Screwing up her eyes, she cursed internally. She couldn’t tell Lyana what was wrong, there was no way her friend would be able to deal with this without panicking. After all, she didn’t have all her experience on missions, and had thought a little cut was worth crying over a few weeks ago! No, she’d just have to deal with this by herself.

“I’m fine,” she replied, trying to keep her voice level.

“You’re a bad liar.”

Wincing, Omega did have to admit that this was true. She sighed.

“Can you get one of my brothers and AZI? I’m bleeding.”

“What kind of bleeding?” Lyana asked after a few moments’ silence, strangely calm for someone who surely must have started freaking out by now.

“The blood kind of bleeding.”

“No,” Lyana let out a sigh that sounded mildly frustrated. Omega wasn’t sure what her problem was, she was the one who’d just asked a stupid question. “Do you mean you’ve hurt yourself, or have you just started your period?”

Now it was Omega’s turn to fall silent for a few seconds as she considered this new information. 

“What’s a period?” Obviously it had something to do with blood, and was something she was meant to be aware of, maybe it would explain the situation? However, judging by Lyana’s tone of voice, a ‘period’ didn’t sound like it should be a serious thing, so maybe it wasn’t the answer to her problem - finding dried blood in your underwear due to some kind of injury inside you was clearly serious.

“...You really don’t know?”

“Should I?”

“Well…” Lyana started. “Most humans who can grow babies inside them get them. So, you know the place inside you where you can grow a baby when you’re an adult?”

Omega’s face morphed into a grimace while her friend paused, clearly trying to figure out what to say next. Sure, she knew that natborns who had the same parts as her were able to make kids inside them, but she’d never thought of herself in that way. It was disgusting. It was unnatural. Babies were meant to be made in nice sterile tubes, not squirming around inside of you. And they definitely shouldn’t be squirming around inside of her!

Then a new thought hit her, and as the full horror of it sank in, she struggled to remember how to breathe. Lyana wasn’t gonna tell her that there was a tubie inside her right now, was she? She was sure other stuff was meant to happen before that, wasn’t it? But it would explain the bleeding…

“There’s like a layer of tissue and stuff inside you, that’s meant to protect the baby,” Lyana continued while Omega wrapped her arms around her stomach, reminding herself that soldiers did not panic. “But once a month, when your body sees that there isn’t a baby inside of you, it gets rid of the layer, which comes out as blood.”

Omega put her head in her hands, trying to process this. “So,” she said slowly, “this is meant to happen once a month. ”

“Yeah, for a few days.”

But that was so inconvenient!

“Then why hasn’t it happened before?”

“It’s not meant to happen when you’re a little kid, it’s meant to start when you’re around our age.”

Omega sighed, and tried to think about this logically. Objectively, this completely sucked, especially as she was never gonna grow a tubie inside of her because a) they belonged in tubes, and b) it would make her completely useless on missions. However, it did mean she probably didn’t have some major internal bleeding problem, which was definitely a plus.

She pulled herself together, stopped staring at the brownish spots of blood, got up off the fresher, pulled her shorts up and washed her hands. When she unlocked the door she saw Lyana waiting on the other side, eyes wide with concern. 

“Are you alright?”

She thought about moaning about how kriffing unfair it was, how she bet her brothers didn’t have to deal with anything this stupid, but she stopped herself. What would be the point? Whenever she complained about anything normally they all talked about solutions like blowing things up, or putting things right, or getting back at the Empire - how was she meant to get magically a day younger and then stay like that?

She frowned. She’d talk to AZI. 

“I’m fine.”

“It’s okay, I hate it too,” Lyana smiled weakly at her, “but if you need a hand with any of this, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, folding her arms, feeling embarrassed and childish. “I just think tubies belong in tubes, that’s all. Cloning is a lot less messy.”

Lyana blinked at her.

“What?”

[transpeculativefiction]

Actually dysphoria is fake anyway. Letting a stupid made-up transmedicalist diagnosis define us all is a shitty thing to do to our community. That's the main reason it's important that you don't need dysphoria to be trans.

[inazuma-fulgur]

Normally I truly just ignore shitty opinions

But sometimes I see so many shitty takes, so many posts preaching and shaming, I wonder if there even are any others outside of those and shallow entertainment, goofy jokes

Ie. Everything is either for fun (good) or serious nonsense

And I realize there are serious and good and thoughtful posts out there, they even get shared, I have shared them. But I can't unfeel that they never start discussions, get people talking and rethinking, even when that is their stated goal

To me it seems people are always just searching for the next appealing, popular post to *unironically* integrate into their belief system the way they meet it. No being picky about takes, no taking only the parts you like, no self reflection and merging the new knowledge with the old, always replace everything.

Got a new personality and political opinion for free from my favorite (insert ideology here) influencer

Like genuinely, to me the reason why Hbomb is popular on here is not because he's good (he is though) but because it's good easy drama, comes with a target and moralization (or at least a villain which can be targeted and who's action can be moralized) in a format that is so large most of us aren't even used to comprehending such thorough takes, how could we possibly critically examine and compare them?

And no matter what hbomb says, someone will find a way to deliberately misunderstand him, someone will be lazy and self righteous about it

If you found out from Hbombs video that James Somerton is full of shit, didn't manage to do that on your own, do you really think just by watching that once or twice you've figured out and learned everything about scammers? About fact checking? You probably didn't even fact check his video because everything aligned with your beliefs, you just needed to make the new information fit in somehow.

It's probably pointless to say this, but he isn't infallible, and he knows he isn't, he admits he isn't, still his videos are gospel to people. All Harris gives you is an idea, a starting point, a concept from where you can expand. He doesn't know what's right, he just knows that what James and Illuminaughti did definitely ain't it.

And that's cool y'know, I don't expect anything more. Only if his watchers could stop pretending he is all of the above, no different from Vaush* fans or whoever. Philosophy Tube fans, very much the same. And Abby and others definitely, maliciously or not, profit off of that, actively keep it that way because it makes YouTube safe as a source of income. It also makes for more efficient and easier branding

*not saying hbomb is like vaush. He isn't

But y'know, Harris and Abby are white british people how could they be wrong about anything amiright

Tumblr, I call you out, do the thing you preach and start fact checking and thinking critically

[blondedmuse]

MISERY BUSINESS

felix catton x reader

synopsis. ꩜ based off of this request.

author’s note. ∿ i need this man so bad it’s not even funny. smut (fingering, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, praise, marking, voyeurism I guess idk) it's been a while since I wrote something on this account and its not proofread so be nice, also a bit of a rushed ending??

word count. ⨾ 2.7k

The harsh thud of the car door closing awoke you from your mid-day reverie by the lake. The sun was beaming down on you almost bare body, only covered by a bikini. It was hotter than usual and everyone else at saltburn seemed to share your complaints. The heat aside the weather was pleasant—Felix on the other hand looked less than.

He looked annoyed, almost upset, even from far away. When he exited the car Oliver and Felix went their separate ways, Oliver looking just as unhappy. You wondered what happened in just few hours that could’ve soured their moods but it was only a few moments later when Felix approached you, grinning in attempt to hide the scowl he was dressed in minutes earlier.

Once he reached your figure he towered over your body as you laid on the dock. Having well acknowledge the heat now and your lack of clothing he discarded his shirt and quickly lowered his frame over yours so that his was barely hovering over yours.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head with a small grin. “nothing.”

You scoffed. “Liar.” He raised his brows.

“What’s wrong?” You prodded again. He dropped his head in hesitation, his lip between his teeth as he contemplated telling you what happened on his and Oliver’s road trip, what he felt, what the truth was—but he couldn’t. Not yet anyways.

He looked up at you. “I- Oliver just said something and it hurt me more than I thought it would.”

You sat up, the two of you adjusting your bodies as you did so. You stared intently at his face, watching how his eyes glossed over and how he could barely hold your gaze. It was a different demeanor than what other people knew, one of the more human parts that made people fall in love with him.

You lifted his face towards yours. “I’m sorry.” The silence that followed after your statement determined he wasn’t interested in sharing anything deeper than the surface of the matter.

He looked back at Saltburn then back at you. “Don’t be.”

You scrunched your brows. “Hm?”

“I don’t know,” He said earnestly. “It’s not your fault, I should’ve listened to you earlier. You kept saying you had a bad feeling about him and I didn’t really take it to heart…til’ now I guess.”

“Oh, Felix,” You sighed, cupping his face, your hand over his jaw subliminally believing that it would release the tension he held there.

“He’s out tomorrow.” His hand caressed yours as it rested on his cheek.

“Really?”

“Really.” He confirmed. “Maybe now I can get you, alone, yeah?” His body pushed yours back down on the doc so he was hovering over you once again.

"Felix," You laughed. "Always distracting me, aren't you."

"No 'm not," he mumbled, nipping at your earlobe. "You weren't doing anything important anyways."

"I was going to ask another question," You giggled.

"Okay," He answered, pushing himself so that he kneeled above you, a knee on either side of your torso. "What?"

When he was playful like this he was such a beautiful sight in front of you, you almost felt bad asking him a question as if you were ruining the mood.

"You're not really kicking him out are you? I feel bad."

He sighed. "I am kicking him out and you shouldn't feel bad, he’s in the business of misery it’s almost like his job to make people feel bad." He crawled back over you once again, something heavier within him now. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, his clouded eyes. His mouth made its way back to your body, this time trailing down your stomach, beginning to leave marks you knew you’d have to hide at the party tonight.

“Felix,” You frowned. “I just-”

He cut you off. “Enough, alright. He was a creep anyways, you said it yourself,” He told you and you nodded, internally agreeing.

“He’s going home after the party.”

The feel of his voice as he mumbled into your skin was enough for you to stop thinking about the situation for the moment. It wasn’t until nightfall you were reminded of Oliver's unrelenting presence—it was his birthday after all. Still, no matter where you were in Saltburn, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes upon you, you couldn’t help but feel that you were never alone.

"Can we go somewhere a little more private?" You asked Felix and he hardly registered the question. His hands up your dress the lights were dim, colored strobe lights bleeding in from the outside. The room was close to empty but the music could be heard throughout the house. You could ask him anything to anyone and it wouldn’t really mean anything—and it didn't help that the two of you were getting dizzy on champagne.

So, you didn't ask you question again but your eyes flickered to the maze that could be seen from the window and he understood what you wanted.

"Whatever you want, angel." He grinned, pulling his hands away to grab yours, taking you to the garden.

You scrunched your brows together. "I should be calling you that y'know."

He laughed with you. "You have wings too."

"But I'm a fairy"

"Close enough." You laughed to yourself as you and Felix walked through the house and towards the maze. There was a bottle of champagne in your left, Felix’s hand in your right, grounding you with each step. The more the time passed the less ideal it felt to walk in heels—you thought of ditching them all together. Still, they held the integrity of your costume, matching the chosen Midsummer Night's Dream theme. You'd dressed up as a fairy, donning flowers in your hair and a frilly slip dress, the costume obviously incomplete without wings.

Your heels pierced through the dirt once you’d made it to the grass, your feet sinking slightly with each step. You groaned to yourself, not going unnoticed by Felix.

“You okay?” He asked, stopping to turn to you.

“My heels,” You answered.

He furrowed his brows. “What about them?”

“Well…” You hesitated. “They’re killing my feet and they keep sinking into the dirt. They’re gonna get dirty.”

“We’ll we can’t have that know can we,” Felix replied, picking you in on fell swoop, your body now in his arms, your legs dangling from his grasp.

"Felix," You giggled his named through broken laughs, surprised with the immediacy of his action.

"What? You know I'd do anything for my best girl," He told you, returning the wide lipped smile on your face.

"I didn't ask you anything."

"You didn't have to."

You went limp in his arms as you sighed, comparable to an act of defiance as if you were annoyed, as if he did something wrong; but you knew he couldn't if he tried. He shook his head but the smirk on his lips was undeniable as he carried you the rest of the way to the center of the maze.

"You're insufferable, won't even let me carry you," He carped, putting you down and letting you lean against the cold metal of the statue as you put the bottle of champagne on the ground beside you.

"I did and you love me," You retorted, inching your face towards his, leaving a sliver of space between your lips. The bronze on your back that chilled your skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Felix's body, from the warmth of the air around you. It was intoxicating, his breath on your skin and the breeze of the wind. Looking up at him you could see that carnal glimmer in his eyes when his hands roamed your body only moments earlier, and this morning on the dock. It was something you craved and that was something he knew and savored the fact.

"Well I can't deny that," He smirked before closing the gap between the two of you. You could feel the indent of his grin as he kissed you, his lips turned up into a wicked smile, something more depraved, but still, nonetheless, Felix.

"Why don't I finished what I started earlier, love?" He asked against you not bothering to pull away and you only moaned in approval. His lips traveled from yours to the lobe of your ear so he knew you could hear him clearly.

"You need to use your words, darling."

"Yes," You keened, wanting—needing more than what was being given.

"Good girl," He hummed, his hands drawing down the straps of your dress before they traced down the rest of your body all the way to your thighs. He hooked his hands under them, lifting you to sit on the base of the statue.

"This okay?" He asked, looking into your eyes for conformation, the raise of his eyebrows encouraging it verbally as well.

"Yeah," You sighed breathelessly. "But I still need you."

He smirked again. "Let me fix that then."

Felix's hands gently lowered the front of your dress, exposing your breasts and taking one of them into his mouth, moaning around it.

"You're beautiful, darling" He mumbled, groaning as his tongue slid over your hard nipple. His words were genuine but you couldn't help but feel a little cheesy, kicking your foot playfully at his leg and you felt his erection, hard as you did so.

"And you know that already," He chuckled, sucking your nipple more aggressively. "But it's true." His words made you ache with impatience, whine with desire. Felix pulled back before lowering himself to his knees, his eyes not daring to leave yours. Only when he licked an agonizingly slow, sloppy stripe against your clothed cunt his eyes focused on the sight in front of him.

You breath hitched in anticipation as he pulled down your panties with his teeth and taking them off, shooting you a wink as he pocketed them. Immediately after his gaze moved back to your wet pussy, wasting no time in tasting you.

He dropped his head and his tongue slithered to your clit, flicking the pearl a few times before wrapping his lips around it. Your core was hot against his face, your scent, heady and electrifying; he could spend hours between your legs. Your hand went to claw at his hair, your fingers entangling with his brown locks.

"Ri-Right there," You breathed, attempting your best to string a coherent thought together, but it was hard when one of his hands massaged the outside of your thigh while the other came up to your empty hand. Your fingers interlocking, his thumb kneading the side of your palm as he sucked harder at your clit. You squeezed it as you released strangled moans, strained from the attempt to stay quiet.

"You can be louder, love. No one else is going to hear you except me." You didn't believe him, swearing you heard something in the bushes move along with the fact that there was a full blown party happening in his house right now; but you couldn't help yourself either.

He slipped two fingers into you, eliciting a lewd moan with ease. Your legs pressed together and he almost felt suffocated at the momentary feeling of being entirely enveloped by you—but it was exactly what he wanted.

"Oh God, Felix," You fingers digging deeper into his scalp and he groaned.

His movements were mindless and uncalculated, but they had you reeling each time. He knew your body like a book, where to touch to have your head spinning. The longer he spent between you legs, the louder your moans got, your hips helplessly bucking up to meet his fingers and mouth.

"Atta' girl," he murmured against you core. "Cum for me, love, I can feel you squeezing me."

Your movements got sloppier, raunchier, as your orgasm approached swiftly. It struck you like a bolt of lightning, your body overtaken with rapture and relief. Felix watched as you come down from your high, his fingers still working you over.

"You did so well f'me," He coaxed, finally removing his fingers from your core and scaling up your body, his moving to cling to yours and swallowing any soft moans you had left.

"Need you," You whispered as his lips nipped at yours.

"Need me or my cock?" He chuckled, drunk on you.

"You know what I mean," You replied, hands already to undo the buckle of his belt.

He stopped you before you could go any further. "I know, I just want to hear you say it, darling."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, the smile on your lips indicating otherwise. His brows darted up, goading you on.

"Please?" He pressed and you exhaled in pleasure, in desire.

"Need you inside me, Felix." The corners of his mouth turned up into that smug smirk you've known for so long and he nodded in thanks.

"As you wish, my love."

He was rock hard, heavy and hot in your hands, precum dripping from his tip. You were just as wet and desperate as he reached down as he lined himself up with your entrance, sheathing himself inside you without another moment of hesitation. His arms caged your body under him as he hissed at the feeling. He gave you a a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried deep inside of you.

"You're so tight," He praised as he kissed you, moaning into your mouth as he began to move. The pace of his hips started slow, gently rolling into yours, your clit brushing up into his pelvic bone at just the right angle. Felix tuned into how your moans falter when he hit just right spot, the sensation going straight to your core.

"Feels so good," You keened as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you.

"Yeah? Tell me about it," He asked as he increased his pace, the speed of his pounding becoming relentless, evoking obscene noises from you. You wrapped your legs around his torso, heels digging into his back as you gave him the perfect angle to go even deeper as his cock hit your g-spot repeatedly.

You were sure your nails were going to leave a mark as they clawed into his shoulders while his hand slowly travelled to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit to help you reach your climax. You clenched around him in a manner so desperate, cunt fluttering around his cock. You didn’t have time to tell him you were cumming, screaming and sobbing as ecstasy hit you like a brick wall. You arched your back as his name fell from your lips again and again like a hopeless prayer. He followed suit seconds later, soaked with you as buried his head into the crook of your neck. He came with a strident cry as he bottomed out, filling you to the brim. You went limp under him as he panted weakly with his voice hoarse in your ear.

Still hazy from your climax your eyes widened as you saw Oliver walk into the maze. Felix didn't hear him, but he took note of your expression.

"What? Are you okay? What's-"

You interrupted him. "Oliver." Felix's head whipped around to the man standing behind him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Felix exclaimed and you pulled your legs from his torso and fixed your dress. Felix pulled up his trousers, buckling up his belt before fully turning to face Oliver.

"What are you doing here, mate? I mean, really?" You didn't say anything, composing yourself as Felix stood in front of you. Oliver opened his mouth to speak but Felix cut him off before he could explain himself.

"Actually I don't wanna fucking know, I've seen enough." He sighed and looked back to check on you.

“I think you should go,” You said to Oliver. “Before you do anything more to embarrass yourself.” The words were harsh as they came out of your mouth but you didn’t know what else to say. You watched as he walked away with his shoulders slumped, no doubt some guilt weighing them down.

“Are you alright?” Felix asked you, turning back around. You nodded still processing what had just happened as it seemed the champagne had worn off a while ago. You grabbed the bottle off the ground and held it up, offering it to Felix with a smile he didn't hesitate to reciprocate back.

"To Oliver's fucking party!" You laughed confused as ever, taking a swig of the bottle before he grabbed it from you.

"To Oliver's stupid fucking party."

[sstargirln]

❞ ᝰ .ᐟ call me so i can see?

patrick x fem!reader x art (on the phone)

TW: smut MDNI - oral (f receiving), p in v, masturbation, one bit where he slaps her- patrick is kinda a perv idk, mentions of vomit, swearing

word count: 1637

¡! ❞ a/n: au where they all go to stanford and tashi doesn't exist ig (love her js could not incorporate her!)

"show me what you're wearing, baby," art mumbled. you picked the camera up from where it was resting on your vanity and switched the view to show him your little pink skirt and grey tank top through the mirror.

"and then i think i'll wear these white panties," you hummed, flipping up your skirt to show him the lacy white underwear, turning round to show him the back. "d'you like?"

art looked almost pained on the other end, eyes dark and jaw slightly slack. "you look gorgeous," he grunted. "why does patrick get the white ones?"

you sighed and placed the phone back on the desk as you finished curling your hair. "they're his favorite."

"they're my favorite too," art whined, brows contorting in a way meant to make you feel bad for him.

"liar," you huffed. "you like the blue set," you said, shooting him a glare through the screen.

"i like all of them," art complained, raising his arm so it was balanced behind his head while he watched you get ready. "can't you guys just wait until i get home?"

you finished the last ringlet of hair, examining yourself in the mirror. "you want me to go 2 more weeks without any sex?"

"well, i don't want patrick to have you all to himself."

"you get me all alone all the time, don't be selfish."

"will you at least call me? i wanna see."

your lips curled into a smile at art's blatant voyeurism. "sure," you smiled. "okay, baby, i got to go. love you!"

art responded with a kiss through the air, puckering his lips and planting them on the camera, leaving the view blurry and slobbery.

"gross," you giggled, hanging up on him and heading out your dorm.

—

patrick was incredibly horny. in fact, he had jerked off 3 times today, once to a picture of you and another the second he saw you walk into his crowded dorm room, palming himself through his pants in desperation.

he knew that the only reason you were at this grimy college party was to fuck him - causing his dick to rise even higher as he realised your tiny little skirt and perfectly curled hair was just for him. and with art out of town, it meant he got your pretty pussy all to himself. you locked eyes with him across the room, smirking at the firm position his hand had on his crotch. you tilted your head to the door after scrunching your nose at the pool of vomit that had already been released onto the floor. patrick nodded with a crooked smile, pushing himself off the bed and making his way to the door.

patrick's eyes practically crossed with need as he watched you bend over a little to grab a beer, flashing your lacy panties - his favorite set. his breath hitched in his throat, he maneuvered his way through the sweaty throng of college students towards you.

"hey, sexy," he murmured, hand immediately gravitating towards your ass as he led you towards the door. "i like your underwear. great choice."

"all for you."

patrick internally groaned at your low, purring tone, lips latching onto your neck the second you were out in the hallway of the dorms. he led you to art's dorm, only doors down from his own.

you let patrick slip off your skirt, watching his eyes turn pure black as he surveys your bottoms hungrily. you fumbled with his belt buckle as he ripped off your shirt, lips locking with his sloppily. your panties stayed on even when patrick's fully erect cock came springing out of his boxers. patrick's mouth travelled down your torso, nipping and sucking at your tits before moving down to your thighs.

"wait," you panted. patrick looked up at you with furrowed brows. "i told art i'd call him."

"call him later," patrick huffed, going back to attacking your thighs, marking the soft flesh with love bites.

"no, i told him i'd call him now."

patrick groaned loudly and pushed himself off the bed, searching through your discarded clothes for your phone. "here," he growled as he tossed it you. as you fumbled with the screen, tapping on art's name, patrick pulled your panties off and latched his mouth onto your cunt with fervor.

art picked up immediately, and you angled the camera so he could see patrick in between your legs, sucking and tugging on your clit, eliciting loud moans from you.

"fuck," art said lowly. patrick looked up at the phone with a deathly glare. you got the hint, moving the phone away from your face and balancing it on the side table near your head so you could see art and he could - very clearly - see the two of you.

patrick could see your face now too, and he took immense satisfaction in the way your mouth hung open and your eyes fluttered as he pleasured your pretty little pussy with his tongue. you shuddered under his mouth, reaching out to tug at his hair. his hips rutted against the bed in an attempt to ignore his own erection, because he won't even think about fucking you until you've cum on his tongue.

art watched through the phone, eyes low and burning with jealousy as he watched his favorite boy eat out his favorite girl. he clenched his jaw while he slowly pumped at his dick, saving his orgasm for when the real action started.

patrick began to suck and lick and swirl faster when he felt your legs clench around his head. "shitttt, patrick," you moaned almost pornographically, whiny and loud. "please, please, please, please," you whined, fingers tangled in his hair and head thrown back against the headboard.

you didn't even have to voice that you were finishing, because patrick knew - from the way your thighs shuddered and your cunt began to tighten around his tongue. art knew too - as he watched your eyes begin to cross and moans became louder and louder. once patrick's chin was slick with your release, tip of his nose shiny, he lined his throbbing cock up with your entrance.

you were still completely fucked-out, eyes fluttering open and closed while you panted heavily. as patrick spat on his hand and ran it painstakingly slow down his length, you glanced up at the phone, taking in art's dick, which was out in all its glory. his tip was glossy with pre-cum and he was still slowly jerking himself off. he gave you a crooked grin as he watched your eyes travel towards him. "focus on patrick, baby. he's got you all to himself today."

you nodded compliantly, shifting your gaze to the massive cock that was brushing your entry. "need it real bad, pat," you whined, rutting your hips so you could feel the tip on you.

"you're gonna get it, baby. be patient," he looked up at the phone, making eye contact with art and shaking his head. "look at our girl, art. being so needy."

art hummed in agreement as patrick reached out for a condom, making a visible (and slow) display of the way he stretched it over his cock. he teased your cunt with a finger, pushing back your folds and smiling as he examined the slick hole. "turn around," patrick commanded, watching you with low eyes as you turned onto your belly, sticking your ass up into the air and looking back at him expectantly.

"pleaseeee," you whimpered.

patrick couldn't resist, and he grabbed you by the hips to line himself up just right. with one fluid movement, he snapped his hips against your ass and plunged his cock inside you, making you moan loudly. his thrusts were deep and frantic as slapping sounds filled the air, making art practically salivate.

he felt as if he was watching porn - the way you cried out so erotically, and the intense motions of patrick's hips. your ass stuck up in the air perfectly rounded, and he was pissed at the fact he didn't have the view patrick did, positioned behind you. his hands began to quicken on his dick at the sight of your breasts bouncing up and down against the mattress as patrick relentlessly pounded into you.

as if hearing his thoughts, patrick reached out to grab the phone, flipping the camera so he could see your beautiful cunt, all filled up with patrick. art's breathing quickened, moaning loud enough for you to hear. you snapped your head back, flashing him a large smile and sticking your tongue out. maybe you were a pornstar in another life or something, because holy shit. art and patrick both groaned at the sight and patrick's pace inside you began to quicken.

unable to hold it in any longer, he placed art back on the side table and thrust into you even more passionately than before, hard enough that you could feel it in your fucking stomach. art was moaning too, right along with you and patrick, furiously stroking at his dick. all three of you seemed to come at once - you squirting all over patrick's cock, art shooting ropes of cum all over his hands and the phone, and patrick (unfortunately contained within the condom) releasing inside you with a loud keening sound.

"that was very hot, you two," art praised, panting.

"thanks," patrick replied, still buried inside you. "it's gonna have to happen again, 'cause there is no way i'm going another two weeks without this."

¡! ❞ © niya-writesshit 2024

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Big Girls Cry Too"

The LADS Men walking in on you having a good cry after bottling everything up and that one bad day at work was the final straw. Look even the baddest bitches cry doesn’t change the fact that mc (all of us) is still the baddest. [Requested by: Anon]

Zayne

Zayne: Are you hurt?

MC: I'm just tired

Zayne: Did you not sleep well last night?

MC: Mentally Zayne im just.....I don't know

Zayne: Talk to me what’s troubling you?

MC: I can’t find the words

Zayne: Well then just say anything I'll piece it together as you go

MC: I just .... I feel so ..... but I can't .. and today was just ..... I don't know

Zayne: You're just overworking yourself to keep your mind off your grandma and Caleb but you want a break however you can't seem to catch one and today was the straw that broke the camels back?

MC: What are you a mind reader?

Zayne: No I'm an MC reader

He would sit with you and hold you in his arms while you were a blubbering mess.

Zayne: I'll stay right here for as long as you need

Rafayel

Rafayel: I told you to stop abandoning me for that place look what its done to you

MC: Not now Raf im tired

Rafayel: I know

MC: So stop making jokes

Rafayel: Do you want to talk about it?

MC: No

Rafayel: Do you want me to leave?

MC: *sniffles* No

Rafayel: Good I wasn’t going to *throws you over his shoulder*

MC: Where are we going?!

Rafayel: For a swim it always makes me feel better

MC: I just want to lay in bed

Rafayel: Trust me a dip in the water with me is like free therapy

MC: ….

Rafayel: You trust me?

MC: I trust you

Rafayel: Good I'll do anything to see those tears stop

MC: You’re too good to me

Rafayel: Next time you need to cry call me … I have two shoulders just for you

Xavier

Xavier: Who upset you?

MC: Everything

Xavier: I can’t fight everything

MC: Why not I’m tired of it all

Xavier: What’s going on?

MC: I just need a good cry from time to time

Xavier: How often is ‘time to time’

MC: …..twice a week

Xavier: Come here

MC: *lays on top of Xavier as he rubs your back*

Xavier: Feeling better?

MC: actually ….. yea …. Is this why you lay on me all the time?

Xavier: You’re like a human battery recharger … my personal charger

MC: Are you sad every time ?

Xavier: Not every time but sometimes

MC: Oh I never noticed

Xavier: That’s because being around you makes me happy

MC: Can I lay here for a while ….. please

Xavier: Will that make you happy?

MC: *sniffles & nods*

Xavier: I’ll be your human body pillow whenever you want

Sylus

Sylus: Are you crying?

MC: *sniffles* no

Sylus: You’re a terrible liar sweetie

MC: I had a tough day at work

Sylus: A tough day at work huh?

MC: ….yea

Sylus: Sweetie it’s okay to cry in front of me I know you’ve been bottling up your emotions

MC: You don’t know anything

Sylus: I know this will help *Starts giving you a scalp massage*

MC: You don’t know if it’s helping …… but don’t stop

Sylus: I didn’t plan to …. come here

Sylus takes a seat on the bed and moves you to straddle his lap. You lay your head on his shoulder while he continues to massage your scalp with one hand and rub your back with the other.

MC: Don’t you have work to do?

Sylus: You are always a top priority princess

[planet-dusk]

tw//cnc, coercion

jisungie and coercion in a cnc roleplay scenario has been plaguing my mind for a while... he's all "please, baby? it hurts... i know you want it, too, right? i'll be quick.. promise"

"just the tip, please, baby. i promise. i love you. need you so much. you love me, too, right?"

which he immediately disobeys and slides right in, "why're you so wet, baby? you really wanted this, didn't you?"

"let me cum inside, babe. it belongs in this pussy, doesn't it? you know that."

if u have anything to add i might pass away but no pressure. ily ! i'm glad you're back:)

maesie it's so good to see you,, i hope you're doing well! and leaving such a treat in my inbox? yum <33

🏷️ han jisung x fem!reader. cw ; cnc, free use, breeding, pet names: baby, babe, doll ( 692 w. )

minors dni. for mature audiences only !

jisung gets so desperate when he's needy, and he's just a tad too big for you to not feel the sting without any prep of his fingers; the thought alone makes you wet at the most inconvenient times. so you and jisung came to an agreement: you get to use each other, wherever, whenever. but that doesn't mean it isn't fun to push back a little. feed into his recklessness.

"not now, babe," you manoeuvrer between the spice rack and the stove with jisung clinging to your back. "i'm trying to make dinner here."

"but i need you, baby. i love you. you love me too, right? i need you so bad. please, it hurts," he pleads, bulge pressing thick and heavy against your ass. "just lemme grind against you for a second then, yeah? i'll be quick."

he lifts your skirt and grabs your hips, hungry, fingers making indents in the flesh. his leaking cock slides between your thighs, rubbing against your clothed clit with every rock of his hips.

"that's my girl, so good for me, fuck— i can feel you throbbing trough your panties, baby." he kisses your shoulder, his grip on your hips becoming more insistent. "let me put it in, please? i need to feel your pretty cunt around me. just the tip, okay?"

"sung, the food —"

"dinner can wait," he slides your panties down to your knees and you instinctively push your hips back. the gentle but demanding press of his hand between your shoulder blades lowers you over the kitchen counter. his cock prods at your hole, clumsily in his need, catching on the rim a few times.

the knot in your stomach tightens at the prospect of him entering you raw. it isn't the first time but you know how much the pretense of it riles him up.

"n-no sungie, wait, not without a condom..."

"it's just the tip, baby. i'll pull out, i promise. god, this tiny pussy," jisung groans when your walls give way slowly for the thick head of his cock. you whimper at the burn, caught between the counter and his hips with nowhere to go but take it.

"i know, doll, i know." he soothes you with a kiss to your nape. you gasp when he sinks in deeper, the sting bleeding into a dull throb when he hits that sweet spot nestled between your walls. "'m sorry, shit — this pussy's sucking me right in, baby, i can't help it. want me that bad, huh? you're such a liar."

"'m not," you shake your head, cunt clenching around him at the same time.

"i can feel how wet you are, baby, i know you need this too." his hips slam into yours and he wraps an arm around your chest to lift you up, his long curls tickling your ear. "let me cum inside, babe, it belongs in this pussy, doesn't it? you know that."

his other hand's on your clit now, and you won't last long this way. you're too far gone to give him a proper answer so you shake your head again, stammering a chorus of pleas and moans as your orgasm quickly approaches.

"then why're you creaming on my cock, baby? this tight fucking pussy's begging to be bred," jisung groans, "knows who she belongs to. do you, baby? c'mon, tell me."

he forces his cock as deep as he can and you shudder, holding onto the counter top for dear life as he fucks you towards the peak of oversensitivity.

"y-you," you start to ramble, "it's all yours, sungie-ah, please..."

jisung leaves sloppy kisses all over your neck and shoulder, mumbling filthy words of praise into your skin. "best pussy in the whole freakin' world, gonna fill you up so good, baby, until it's dripping down your legs..."

he cums with a final gasp of your name, then holds you close for a moment. "thank you. i love you," he whispers into your hair, and you squeal in surprise when he spins you around and drops to his knees in front of you.

jisung laughs and presses a kiss to your mound. "dessert first."

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

[teojira]

I saw that you had transformers on your fandom list, will you be willing to write a 'bot of choice x human reader jealousy/protectiveness fic? Like in that one scene from Transformers 2 where the Deception Pretender tried to seduce Sam but Bee absolutely wasn't having that but had to stay in car mode?

[Aren't you supposed to be more mature than this?]

Summary: Optimus knows better than to get attached to you (too late), he can't help but side eye you and a stranger interacting. (Based on Knightverse Optimus, after ROTB!)

Word count: 800+ words!

Pronouns: They/them

Warnings: Optimus is bad at feelings, Optimus being down bad, extremely self indulgent. Mainly Optimus' Pov as well! Lmk if I need to tag anything!

A/N: Everyone who knows me knows of my obsession and love for this man it's so bad, I have him tattooed and have a whole ass shrine I love HIMMM, Thank you sm for the request! He is the love of my life.

Optimus Prime has been called many things, many of which are true, things he'd accept with pride.

A great leader, a good friend, a valuable teammate, A war criminal.

A jealous bot was never one of them, until recently.

He wasn't sure when he started to take a shine towards you. Was it after Unicron? When he held you in his servos, cradling you to his chest as he transformed back into his bipedal form, only letting go of you after the confused looks from Bee and Mirage.

Maybe it was a while after that, when you offered to help clean him up, Noah was too busy rebuilding Mirage to offer his services to the big man himself.

Optimus could never wipe the feeling of your small hands gently running across his frame, taking extra care to mend any scratches you found, constantly checking in to make sure he was comfortable.

He's ashamed to admit, but he kept shuddering under your touch, his senses overwhelmed by your presence. Every time his cooling fans turned on, he'd wave it off as it was just hot outside. (it's 60 degrees out, liar.)

He tries to recharge that night, but the feeling in his chassis makes him restless. He can see his sensors go haywire at the mere thought of you. He is so fucked, he shuts his eyes and groans deeply, his mask shooting up to mask the sound, lest he wakes the others.

Primus help him.

With his new revelation, Optimus tries his best to distance himself towards you, always making excuses as to why he can't drive you home or to work (a flicker of jealously when Arcee offers, no one catches his digits curling ever so slightly into his palm), saying he must go on patrol for the time being. He waves you off when you try and care for him, asking if he'd like any help with any scrapes and dents, saying he can live with them, he's been through worse.

Its only natural that you'd give him some space, that's the kind of person you are, kind, loving, respectful, loyal to a fault, but it doesn't escape his notice when your smile falls after he politely tells you you're not needed, his spark aching when you turn around to go find another bot.

Optimus watches you now, stationed on the street.

He has no right to be upset when you're stopped outside of the garage by an older man, the man so clearly taking interest in you while you're very politely listening and nodding, shooting that oh so pretty smile to a man who he's sure is not fit to be anywhere near you, not worthy of the warm smile you wear.

It makes him seethe in jealousy, and it's scary.

He can not remember a time when he had ever been jealous. He's a prime. He was supposed to be a calm and collected leader and yet. And yet, he's so close to blowing his hor-

You suddenly whirl towards him. If he was any better of a man, he wouldn't immediately think of how cute you looked, how your lips moved as you let out a yelp.

It isn't until that thought passes his mind that he realizes he used his truckers horn. Embarrassment trickles through his body, although now he has your attention, and you are making your way towards him. The man following behind you keeps the conversation going, not catching a hint.

Optimus is ready to honk again, especially if this man keeps following so close behind you, way too close for comfort.

You beat him to it, turning around as you rest a hand on Optimus’ cabins door handle, shooting the man a polite smile.

“Sorry about that, but my husband is actually here to pick me up, so I have to go. Have a good day!” And You hoist yourself up, quickly buckling your seat belt, gently patting the dashboard in hopes Optimus fucking drives before you're bothered anymore.

Optimus’ processor buffers, his engine revving as he goes on autopilot to tale you both away. Does he know where to drive to? Certainly no, but you're with him now. He's sure you could ask him to take you to distant planets, and he'd make it work for you and only you.

“Thank you for the save, big guy.” You smile brightly at his steering wheel, your eyes lovingly trailing across the autobot symbol that sits in the center.

“It was nothing, I am glad to be there to assist.” The cabin rumbles with his voice, soothing your anxiety. You curl into your seat, resting your head.

“Where are we going?”

“If I'm not mistaken, you mentioned wanting to go to upstate New York to drive along some scenic routes? I'll gladly be your escort.”

He is so ridiculously falling for you, but he can't bring himself to hate it, especially when you excitedly hop in your seat.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[sinner-as-saint]

i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader 

Run-through: In dire need of counsel and guidance, you find yourself in Father Charlie’s office each evening working hard to be the perfect daughter your rich and eccentric family wishes you to be. And Father Charlie has a very… hands on approach when it comes to leading one of his astray little lambs back onto the right path. 

Themes: dom!charlie mayhew, smut, impact play (spanking), degrading kink, slight age gap, aftercare, some fluff?

“Did those thoughts bother you again, sweet girl?” 

You tensed up at the sound of his voice, fingers nervously playing with one of the pink flowers on your sweater. You stood right next to his desk, with your back to him. And you heard his steady footsteps getting closer and closer until he stopped right behind you. 

Father Charlie always made your heart race a little faster. Not out of fear, no. It was just that… he was so handsome. And slightly older. And kind. And gentle. And sweet. 

He was stern, and passionate about things. He was like a burning flame. Warm, mildly unpredictable, and it could hurt if you weren’t careful. That’s where the nervousness came from. That unpredictability, that possibility of hurt. That not knowing. 

But most of all, he was crucial in guiding you back onto the right path. You hadn’t committed any major sins, but your thoughts had been troubling you lately. Dark, sinful thoughts. It doesn’t suit a nice girl like you to think like that, he’d said once when you first came to see him, but that’s why I’m here. I’ll help you. 

And so it was decided that a couple of times a week, you’d be in his office in the evenings, waiting for him to be done with his duties so he could give you his undivided attention and get you out of this mess. 

So for the past weeks, his office was where you spent most of your evenings. 

“Um,” Your voice trembled, “A little.” 

“Hmm,” A deep rumble sounded like it came from his chest. “We’ll have to work on that, as we always do.” He spoke, calmly. Priestly. Then his large hands came to rest upon your shoulders. Large, warm, and comforting hands. 

You felt him lean in, nuzzling the shell of your ear. You felt him inhale your scent. 

He exhaled, his hands giving your shoulders a firm but gentle rub. “Is that a new perfume?” 

You nodded and answered sheepishly, “My daddy got it for me from Paris when he went on a work trip.” 

“Ah,” He let out a soft chuckle, his hands massaging your shoulders in a way that had you wanting to let out a soft moan. “You are your daddy’s little girl, aren’t you? Hmm?” He teased, then suddenly switched to sounding stern again when he asked, “But does your father know? Does he know why you come here so often?” 

You sucked in a breath when he pulled you back into his chest. His body pressing into your back, and this time you couldn’t help the moan that escaped, not when you felt his bulge pressing into your lower back. “Father,” You gasped. “Please, you can’t tell him. You promised.” 

Father Charlie had been safekeeping your little secret from your family for weeks. When your parents asked him about your sessions, he told them that you were doing so well. That you were so obedient. So perfect. 

But it was all a lie. Truth was, you were still stuck inside that metaphorical maze – the one that was filled with sinful things, and the way out was not easy. 

His hands moved downward, from your shoulders, down your back, down your sides, and came to rest at your waist. He pressed you even more against him. “But do you see how bad you’re becoming? Sneaky, liar,” He began listing all your wrongdoings, “Deviant.” He scoffed. “Now you see why I’m obliged to punish you each time? Hmm, sweet girl?” He whispered right into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your back. “Do you?” 

“Yes, Father.” 

He sighed, shoving his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent again before he said, “You know what to do, little lamb.” 

Then he let you go, giving you space to prepare for your ‘punishment’. You had done this many times before, it was necessary for you to learn, he’d said. So you knew the steps to take. You kept your shoes on and got out of your skirt, leggings, and sweater. Then removed your underwear and dropped all your clothes into a little pile at your feet. 

You then turned to face him, to look at him. He looked… tortured. Pouty mouth, lips parted as he breathed heavily. Sleeves of his black shirt rolled up till his elbows after a day’s work, and a hunger in his eyes as he walked over to you. You couldn’t look away from him. 

He stood in front of you and reached out to grab you at the back of your neck, tugging just a little to tilt your head back. He leaned in to rub the tip of his nose along your throat, lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, “Now tell me, what was it this time? Huh? What sinful thoughts did your brain conjure up?” 

You were completely as his mercy. And you had no choice but to be honest with him, “I’ve been having dreams. Last night was…,” You trailed off, your sentence ending in a breathless moan the moment he began nibbling and biting on your skin. “There was… there was a man, Father.” 

“Ah.” He pulled away and stared deep into your eyes with his fiery ones. “And? Did this man try to touch you again? Did you let him?” He asked in a lowered, stern voice, “Did you like it?” 

You blinked then did your best to nod. “I… I woke up, but–,” You cut yourself off. Breathing deeply when you felt his other hand sliding easily in between your legs, teasing your clit. 

“But what?” He demanded. “What happened? What did you do?” He sounded disappointed, but also like he couldn’t wait to hear what you had to say. 

You struggled to even form a coherent thought as you felt him touch you, his fingers sliding along your slit slowly. “I… I touched myself after I woke up from the dream.” You confessed. 

He clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed. “We talked about this, didn’t we? Good girls don’t do that.” He chided. “How did you do it? Hmm? Like this?” He looked down, loosening his grip on your neck so you could follow his movement, both of you now looking down at how his fingers touched and teased you until they were nice and wet. “Is this how you touched yourself?” 

It was downright dirty to just watch his fingers leisurely gliding in and out, stroking your sensitive parts. His fingers weren’t even inside you yet, but you were close to the edge already, feeling warm and tingly all over. You closed your eyes tightly and held back a moan as you answered, “Yes, Father. I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t supposed to.” 

“No,” He said, “You weren’t supposed to do that.” He sounded like he was whispering precious secrets to you. He held your stare, leaning in just so he was all you could see. The rest of the world didn’t exist here. “Because that’s my job. Isn’t it?” He pulled his fingers away and brought them up to your lips, sliding his wet fingers into your open mouth like he owned it. Your lips wrapped around his fingers, gently sucking on them as he spoke, “This little cunt belongs to me. And only I get to touch it. Wasn’t that the deal we made? Hmm?” He brushed his lips across your cheek, still sliding his fingers in and out of your wet mouth, “I keep your filthy little secrets from your family, and in return, you let me touch it, taste it, fuck it, whenever I please.” He added, “To punish you, of course. Wasn’t that our deal?” 

You nodded. 

He sighed, “You see? I try to instill discipline and obedience in you, but you defy me again and again.” He scoffed, “I don’t like having to punish you all the time. But you leave me no choice,” He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pointed at his desk, “Bend over.” 

You turned around immediately and bent over the edge of his large desk. Your cheek pressing against the cold surface of the polished wood as your hands laid palm down on each side of your head. Your ass pressed against the front of his pants and you whimpered, feeling his thick, hard cock beneath the fabric, rubbing against your soft folds. 

You felt his hands on your body. “Look how pretty you are.” He placed his hands on each side of your waist and caressed your body, rubbing up and down along your sides, touching your ass but not touching you right where you needed him to yet. “It’s a shame you’re such a dirty, needy slut.” 

You gasped at his crude words, and bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud as his touch made you feel all tingly and floaty. 

He scoffed before pinching your skin to make you gasp again, “Such an obedient little slut, aren’t you?” He finally trailed his fingers down in between your legs and lazily traced along your slit. “So wet and ready for me.” He chuckled, “Tell me, how many times do you fantasize about me while you touch yourself, hmm?” 

You closed your eyes and frowned in pleasure as he lazily finger-fucked you. “A lot… too many times,” You whined as he touched a sensitive spot inside you, “Please Father. You sounded just as desperate as you were.

“Oh.” He scoffed, as if that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “You filthy little slut.” 

You braced for the painful impact which you were certain was coming. You heard how he lifted his hand up in the air and brought it down to spank your ass. You yelped as his spank left behind pleasant tingles on your skin.

“Count.” He ordered impatiently. 

“One.” 

He did it again, allowing his hand to linger on your skin a little longer this time, caressing your skin where his hand landed. 

“Two.”

Again. 

“Three.” You said, almost moaning at how good it felt, and heard him chuckle.

“This never gets old.” He muttered and slid his hand further down, stroking your folds for a moment. “You’re so fucking wet. This gets you off, huh? Pain, being degraded, being treated like a whore,” He listed, “You like this, don’t you?” He chuckled. “Of course you do, you’re fucking dripping.” He lifted his hand and spanked you again.

“Four.” You sighed, in pleasure and pain. 

Again. “When will you learn, hmm?” 

“Five.” You whimpered as he struck your butt again. 

“See,” He spoke in that deep voice again, “Good girls don’t enjoy being spanked. But you’re far, far from being a good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Six.” It stung a little, but the kind that you wanted more of. “Please, Father,” You barely knew what you were begging for. 

He chuckled, sounding smug. “I know, I know.” 

“Seven.” 

Again. 

“Eight.” You gasped. 

He smacked your dripping core instead of your butt. Your whole body tingled. You were breathless. 

“Nine.” 

He grunted as he spanked you one last time. “There we go.” 

“Ten.” You moaned shamelessly this time. He had you all worked up, hot and bothered with just spanks. 

“What do we say?” 

You whined breathlessly, “Thank you, Father.” 

He let out a satisfied hum, his hands rubbing you all over as you waited again, since you couldn’t see him. You relied on your sense of hearing to determine where he was. “Don’t move.” His deep, steady voice ordered. 

You heard him undoing his pants, the sound of him lowering his zipper made you whimper as you pushed your ass against him even more. You felt his hands on your body again, he grabbed you on either side of your hips before spreading your legs apart and pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. 

But he didn’t slide his cock inside of you yet. 

You waited, your heart racing as he spoke. “Remember, I’m doing this for you.” He sounded wild, his voice strained and raspy. “You know that, don’t you?” 

You tried to push back into him but he moved away, chuckling while you whined in desperation. “Yes, Father.” 

Pleased with your answer, he moaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you, feeling your walls tight around him. You whimpered as he filled you up, stretching you as he went. 

“You see? This is how you will always be treated if you don’t mend your ways.” He struggled to talk just a little, gasping as he felt your walls clench around him. “This isn’t how good girls get treated. Bent over a desk like this,” He scoffed, “No, this is how little sluts like you get fucked.” 

He pulled out and thrust deep into you again, making you moan and gasp under him. He reached out and grabbed your wrists, pinning them down at your lower back as he started rocking into you. Using you like a toy. Slowly at first, then gradually building up his pace. 

“But you love this, don’t you? You love it so much you dream about it.” 

You whined as he fucked deep into you, your front bumping against the edge of the desk each time. “Yes,” You admitted, “Yes, Father.” You whimpered as he pounded harder into you at the sound of that confession. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you.

“Yeah? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You sick, twisted girl. All you want is for a man to fuck you like the little slut you are,” He growled, tightening his grip on your wrists as he fucked you harder, feeling your walls getting tighter around him. He hissed again, “Like you’re just pussy to be used, huh?” 

You whined, “Please…” 

He slammed his cock harder into you, making your eyes water and your heart race so fast you felt like it might just escape your ribcage. He thrust so deep into you just then that it felt like you would simply come apart right there but then he pulled out and pulled you off the desk, turning you around so you faced him. He grabbed your chin roughly in his grip as he stared into your eyes. 

“Don’t you dare fucking come yet.” He threatened. 

Your lips parted as you gasped for air. He looked like he was trying very hard to maintain his composure. He cupped your face and kissed you savagely. Hard. Lips, teeth, tongue – all of it. And for a moment it felt like you might just come undone from his kiss alone. 

But then he pulled away from your swollen lip and spat into your mouth before he said, “Get on your knees. Now.” 

Your brain was still processing it all but your body obeyed immediately, falling perfectly on your knees in front of him. You watched him with a hunger in your teary eyes. 

You watched how he grabbed his cock at the base and guided his tip over to your already open, wet, warm mouth and said, “Suck.” 

You did. You opened your mouth wider as he slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. You took him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat. 

“That’s it, worship this fucking cock like you’ve always dreamt of doing, like the filthy little slut you are,” He hissed in pleasure, “And make it good for me.” 

You looked up and met his piercing eyes. He looked like a god as he looked down at you like you were in your rightful place, kneeling before him with his cock in your mouth. Pink lips parted as he hissed in pleasure. 

You gripped his thighs and worked extra hard on him, feeling his smooth skin along your tongue, tasting yourself and his precum as he groaned. You whimpered when he let out an unrestrained growl as you circle his tip with your tongue before sucking on it gently. 

He let out a carefree chuckle as he looked down at you, “I wonder where you learnt that from?” He asked, knowing damn well you couldn’t respond with his cock filling your mouth. Then he said, “Up.” 

You listened, even though you were a little disappointed you didn���t get to make him come in your mouth but you’d take whatever he’d give you, as usual. So you followed his instructions as he had you sit on the edge of the table this time before he stepped in between your legs, still staring into your eyes. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned in to whisper against your mouth, “Still want more, don’t you? Hmm? You don’t care who gives it to you, you’re a happy girl as long as you’ve got some cock in you, huh?” He aligned his cock to your core again. He slipped inside you with ease, making you gasp at how good he felt as he began fucking you again. “We talked about this, didn’t we?” His calm words didn’t match the way he fucked you like an animal. He grabbed your thighs and pushed them further apart so he could fuck you deeper. “Good girls don’t think about cock and fucking all the time. But that’s all your filthy brain is filled with, isn’t it?” 

“Please…” You whimpered. 

He fucked deeper into you, pounding into you relentlessly as he moaned into the crook of your neck. “Your little cunt feels so good… so fucking tight for me,” He whispered against your skin and you barely heard him over the sound of sex echoing in his spacious office. “Only for me though, right? You don’t spread these legs for other men, do you?” He couldn’t help but laugh, “Of course you don’t. This is mine. You are mine.” He growled. 

“Yes, Father…” You whined as you felt yourself getting so close to the edge again as he pounded into you aggressively. You felt a tear slip out of the corner of your eye as you felt the pressure in between your legs getting too much to contain. 

He felt it too, as your walls clenched violently around him. “Fuck,” He growled into your ear, “Come for me, slut. Come all over this cock…” 

You didn’t hear the rest of what he said because you were long gone, well fucked and lust drunk, you came with a loud cry. He followed shortly after, coming undone while he was buried deep inside you, gripping your thighs so tightly that his fingers would surely leave a bruise behind as memory. 

As always. A little something for you to remember him by until you see him next. 

—

Father Charlie had some paperwork to oversee and some mails to reply to. But he didn’t want you gone just yet, so he helped you clean up, put your clothes back on, then he pulled you onto his lap as he sat on one of the couches in his office to get some work done. 

He did his thing, signed some papers, sorted them into files, replied to some emails, checked his socials, while you straddle his lap, resting your head on his shoulder and sighing each time he petted you or caressed your back, occasionally leaving kisses on your forehead. 

You mindlessly played with the buttons on his shirt, tracing imaginary shapes on his exposed forearm, breathing in his scent, finding comfort in his body heat. After the first ‘session’, he noted that you liked being held, at least until you came down from that high. 

And you were, gradually. Soon he’d drop you home and have a word with your family, and he’d tell them that you did good. He’d also tell them that you’d need some more sessions. And they would happily agree. 

Soon. Not now. 

“What is it?” He asked, after noticing that you’d been whining and rubbing your face against his warm neck like a kitten. “Want me to drop you home?” 

You shook your head quickly, “No.” You mumbled quietly. 

“Don’t just whine like a brat then,” He said, “Make yourself useful.” He pointed down at his crotch. “Keep it warm for me.”

You knew exactly what he wanted you to do. So you reached down and into his pants to pull out his cock. You lifted up just until you had room to align his cock to your entrance, and once done you sank down until he was buried deep inside you again. 

You whimpered as you shoved your face into the crook of his neck again, keeping his cock warm just like how he wanted you to. 

“That’s it,” He said. “Now stay still and do a good job, and maybe I’ll fuck you one more time before I drop you home. Yeah?” 

You whined in response, wanting nothing more than to move and make it feel good again. But you knew he’d reward you later if you behaved. 

He went back to his work, paying little attention to you. Only caressing you here and there, maybe a kiss on your shoulder, or a whispered word about how good you were doing, or he’d hiss and tell you to stop moving your hips. 

And you knew.

There was no getting better. There was no way you’d get back on the right path or whatever he’d promised your family. If there was hell to pay after this, you didn’t care. 

Because you knew. 

You knew you’d keep coming right back to him. Each day. Each time he’d want you to. Over and over again. 

Like a helpless moth to an all-consuming flame. 

—

a/n: yeah I have a problem, save me father charlie– 

[ddejavvu]

Mei! You know how sometimes when you put a bra on that has padding you sometimes have to adjust it a little? I feel like Anakin would see reader do that one time and offer to “help” from then on “to make sure it’s in the proper spot” but really it’s just to touch your boobs.

You're not surprised to feel a large palm pressing against the heft of your breast, and you wish you could say you're disappointed, but you're not. That doesn't mean that you can't act like you are, though.

"Anakin."

"I'm helping!" He insists, his voice thick with sleep but fiery with intensity, "I'm rearranging the foam thing in there."

"The pad?"

"Yeah, the pad. I'm rearranging the pad."

"The pad is in perfect position," You swat his hand away, "Thank you very much."

"Gimme the other one," He demands, palm flat and fingers curling and uncurling, "I'm the bra inspector."

"You're a perv," You accuse, taking advantage of his still-closed eyes to reach over and press his face into the pillow. Perhaps you shouldn't be smothering him so early in the morning, but you're admittedly a little jealous that he gets to sleep in and you have to work.

His reflexes may be slowed by his grogginess but his muscles aren't, and he wrestles your hand away from his face and uses it to yank you back down onto the bed. You go from towering over his sprawled out form to being pinned beneath it, and his victory spoils come in the form of a prompt squeeze to your previously untouched breast.

"Mm-mm. Pad's all wrong." He laments, clicking his tongue sympathetically as he settles his hand over your chest, "It's so bad I think we just need to scrap the whole thing. Take it off?"

"The pad is fine!" You laugh, but Anakin's lithe fingers have already slipped into the gap between layers of fabric to yank the foam pad out of your bra. He's quick to slip it down the front of his pajama pants, grinning smugly at you as he leans back with tousled hair against the headboard of your bed.

"Hey!"

"Take it."

"I have more bras," You huff, stripping off the lopsided bra and digging in your drawers for the others, "I'm gonna be late for work, Anakin!"

You expect a groan of defeat from Anakin but it's cheekiness you hear instead, "They're empty."

"What?"

He's right. There's a distinct lack of form in each piece of fabric laying limp in your drawers.

"Anakin!"

"I'll give them back! Just let me put them in," He grins doggedly, "Deal?"

"Only because I'm late for work," You gripe, glaring at him with all the force you can muster even though you're beginning to flush.

"Liar," His eyes gleam with excitement as he lunges for the drawer beside his bed, withdrawing two foam bra pads from within, "Once I get my hands on you you'll be begging me not to stop."

[lilithandherharlots]

Too shy to tell you

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

Miguel hides your heals in hopes of making you forget you ever owned a pair...he confesses about his theft during a hot and heavy night of sex.

Warnings: This might be interpreted as possessive or an unhealthy bond. Though its supposed to be just a very shy and respectful Miguel who let's loose during sex.:]

Authors note: I am not a writer!! This is my first time righting fanfic.. like.. ever!!! So don't attack me. Though honest, constructive criticism is something that I would love to hear. Sorry if there are spelling mistakes. Also, I don't know how to put proper description..... enjoy!!!!

:::

"Miggy?" I call out to my boyfriend who's currently towering over the coffee machine, waiting for it to brew.

"Yes, my love?" He responds with a look over his shoulder.

"Have you seen my black pointed heals? I can't seem to find them."

"No. Have you checked by the door?" He was lying.

He was lying. He was lying, and he didn't feel bad about it. The truth was he had stuffed them in the highest cupboard of the laundry room. He knew you couldn't reach it. He liked it that way. He couldn't let you open it since he had stuffed at least 4 pairs of heals in there.

"No miggy, they aren't here." You say after checking everywhere by the front door.

"Idk what to say, baby... we have to leave soon. Just throw on a different pair and I'll buy you some new ones later."

He was a liar... and he was damn good at it... until he wasn't.

:::

It was 2am. This insanity started hours ago, but Miguel's stamina wouldn't let down. Your soft moans could fuel him till sun rise, and he would love to do this forever. But unlike him, you have limits. Limits to your ability to stay strong, or at least keep yourself up right. But he doesn't really care. Your begs for a break won't succeed with a constantly starving man like him.

"One more round, please baby... please. I need you." His desperate begs caress your tear stained cheeks as he whispers them softly, leaning over you and filling you with sloppy thrust.

"Miguel- please.. It's too much.." You whine as you try to pull away, gripping desperately onto the sheets.

"Last one.... I promise..." he lies.

He said the same thing the last 4 rounds. If he could have it his way he'd continue. But he knew you couldn't keep going for much longer, so he used this opportunity to tell you what he couldn't bring himself to say otherwise.

"I lied..." he confesses. Watching your tits bounce with every rough trust, keeping himself busy while you tried to form a reply. It took you a while, but you managed to let out a soft hum, waiting for him to explain himself further.

"I took them. Your heels.. I fucking hate those things.." he thrust get faster as he says it. Hoping to make your brain foggy enough to not remember his confessions in the morning.

"I like your height, so why do you wear those weird things?" His heart felt lighter as he told you.

"I like that your height forces you to get on your tippy toes every time you want a kiss from me.. and even then, I have to bend over to reach you.... I like that you rely on me to reach those high shelves. Every time you ask me, you grow as red as a rose...."

You can feel his movements speed up. You can barely hear him... your mind fuzzy from pleasure. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin felt like white noise at this point. The dim shadow of his frame covering you completely.

"You're so small under me.. your body falls any way I bend it..." At his point, he was just speaking the first thing to cross his mind.

You didn't hear him, and he knew it. Seconds later, you feel his weight shift, the mattress by your head sinking under his heavy hand as he leaned in and whispered.

"Please don't take that away from me."

His words were demanding. He felt exactly what he said. Even though your eyes were shut tight, you knew his eyes were locked on you. His breath heavy, as if he just confessed a dirty secret. He kinda did...

"Promise me.... Promise me you won't wear them and I'll help you cum."

As tired as you were. You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. So you give in.

"F-fine... I promise."

"You promise what?" He smirked hearing your whiney voice.

"I promise I won't wear the heels!!"

The pleasure he got from you saying that was immense. He shifted his weight once more as he changed your position like a marionette doll. Spreading your legs apart. His hands wrapped around your thighs, and his claws dug into your skin. The stinging pain of it was a wake-up call, causing you to gasp for air.

This position caused him to go deeper. The sticky mess from your previous rounds was being pushed out of your aching hole. The sound of his hips hitting your ass grew louder with every precise thrust. They got louder and louder until they stopped. Your thighs had clenched closed as you hit that high you were chasing. And you took him with you. Tightening around his pulsing cock in a way that made him fill you to the brim once more.

He watched your body shake. Your hips jerking forward. He would usually take that as his sign to keep going, but your fucked out face was telling him you couldn't take another thrust.

"You did great my love..... my little angel~" He cooed gentle praises as he rubbed your claw marked thighs.

"I'll buy you the cutest flats."

:::

A thing he didn't know.. is that you lied, too. His secret cupboard was emptied, and your heal collection was restored... and yes.. he pouted in silence.

The end