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#he prolly had his comm with him
papanowo · 1 year
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they left.
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Soap has to go undercover for an op, to get intel. Actually two pieces of intel, and he's serving two roles. It's an underground crime ring. He's distraction for Price and Gaz while they're collecting their data in the server room, and there's supposedly a thumb drive with more. Ghost is his overwatch incase anything goes wrong.
Dis one a lil spicy.
Things go off the rails, but there is no way he can let this fail.
So he seduces the target, takes them back to a room. He was hoping to be able to shake this off of him by now, but Ghost says that Price and Gaz need more time.
So he goes for it. He and the target undress, and by that point he's too deep to pull out now. He knows what the tatget wants from him, so he gives it. And at the wnd of it all he'll take what he needs.
He's mid thrust when price connects to comms and tells him that they've got what they need. He slams into the target. Hard. And they scream and collapse.
It's only after the target is fully asleep does he dress, and collect the thumb drive. And it's only after he's out of the room that ghost had to watch the while thing...
Anyway ghost prolly fucks him rough and nasty after that........
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agentharkness · 5 months
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“ i didn’t know where else to go. “ ( concept: donna who accidentally got her memories back )
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@isbrilliant
Hers was the last face he expected to see on the steps of Torchwood One. Donna Noble was meant to be living a peaceful life undisturbed by the forces above and undisturbed by the likes of him. Something must have gone wrong because she was asking for him by name; he could see her effing and blinding Steve, the security guard from his personal CCTV where he sat atop his growing empire. It would have been funny in any other situation. Her lack of filter had been sorely missed as the world grew darker and darker in its nature, and he knew the first person he needed to call was Doc. He should send his personal assistant, Morgan, down there to send Donna away. He shouldn't interfere with the powers above him, floating around in the little blue box.
But maybe Doc needed to stop collecting human lives under their belt too.
He flicked his comm switch on; so much for getting his mountain of paperwork done. "Morgs, darlin'. Send the shouty redhead up. It's fine...thanks." Disconnecting again, Jack straightened up in preparation, fixed his hair a little and brushed imaginary stuff off his clothing. This wasn't his first rodeo in seeing someone from his past. That was part of the curse of being immortal; the past can and always come back to bite or haunt you, and he didn't quite know which it would be with Donna Noble. She'd moved on from this world while he had placed himself at the centre of it.
Yet, the second she walked through the spotless glass door of his office, Jack smiled. He couldn't help it. Donna Noble just had that effect on him. "You prolly came to the right place," he nodded slowly in reassurance, then reached, pointing upwards and beyond. "It's one step closer to up there, ain't it?" The stars and that little blue box. "That is who yer lookin' fer, yeah?" Always a phone call away, but seldom turned up on time. They were likely off-saving creation itself. Jack proudly settled for his ancestors instead.
Gesturing to a fanciful leather sofa, Jack pushed away from his desk towards her. "But before I put in a call--we're gonna have a talk first. Take a seat."
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mundanemiseries · 4 months
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@un1awful : 
💎 DIAMOND - how rich are they? can they live the lifestyle they want to? 🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving? 🔪 KNIFE - how do they react to injury / misfortune befalling their loved ones (significant other, family, friends)? do they put themselves at blame? ✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?
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[ oc emoji asks | accepting ]
💎 DIAMOND - how rich are they? can they live the lifestyle they want to?
Koko's quite well off. Unsurprising with his adoptive father being leader of a gang and all. Outside of that, among his posessions from his own time that ended up here with him, he has a rather sizable stock of his timeline's currency, Credits. Even if functionally useless in modernity, he holds onto it for the sake of keeping parts of his native time.
What he does have from his time that may still hold some value here, another currency more commonly used between him and his peers, platinum. He had a solid stock of it on him but, assuming it held just as little modern day value as his credits, Kokabiel's decided to just....stash it away with other keepsakes of his old life. If only he was aware of the fact it did hold quite a bit of value in the modern day.
money aside he's not really one for much of a lavish lifestyle, too used to the years spent adrift in the ruined remnants of the Zariman, and the smaller, yet comfortable space that was his Orbiter and Dormizone
✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?
oh boy do i ever. imma give u a bunch cause i have...a lot of these
ofc there's the two on his page(s) on the carrd:
"...and with a beautiful smile, i look to the stars. knowing that for you the future is worthwhile, dispite bearing innumerable scars." 
and
"...and yet i saw god staring back at me in the mirror, with the face of a child but the soul of a demon. epiphany came over me. the gods would not be the ones to punish us. the children were."
Both from the series W.arframe - The Ouroboros on youtube, prolly some of my favourite wf fanworks and a piece of media that constantly lives rent free in my head
another being:
"we may have forgotten so much about being human, but the one thing we will never lose is our ability to change." - SCP 3812 (also happens to be both of Koko's modern day verse tags)
i could keep going but...imma leave it at those three.
🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?
Honestly? When it comes to getting gifts he's not used to getting gifts at all so just about anything is something he's really happy to recieve. If there was anything specific I'd point out? Likely something to do with his hobbies, sewing supplies and fabric to make plushies with, cool paints he doesn't have for his miniatures, that kind of stuff.
As for giving gifts himself? A pretty good gifter, typically giving handmade items though he if knows there's anything in particular the other's mentioned/been wanting/etc he'll opt to get them that instead, potential costs be damned. He's got the money for it and while he doesn't care to use it for himself he's always more than willing to for the people around him he cares about.
🔪 KNIFE - how do they react to injury / misfortune befalling their loved ones (significant other, family, friends)? do they put themselves at blame?
Internally? Frustration, anger if the situation is serious enough. At whoever would hurt his loved ones, and admittedly...at himself. Even if he doesn't actively try to think it he's spent his life a soldier, a protector against those that wished to lay claim to the system for their own. And seeing those he cares for hurt...even if he wasn't involved to begin with, he feels responsible. It feels like Thursby all over again, his boy's screams over comms as he was torn limb from limb, feeling like if he hadn't stepped in, the boy might have been able to slip under corpus radars just that bit longer.
Regardless, his first priority if anything happens to those he cares about is them. No matter what, minor, major, his first reaction is making sure they're okay. If what happened to his loved ones was something major, however?
Whoever hurt them can only pray to the voids that Koko may deal with them swiftly.
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bylightofdawn · 11 months
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WIP Sunday
I managed to rally myself enough to write SOME and this is the most non-spoilery snippet I can manage from this chapter.
My TENS unit is an actual hero that did more for my shoulder/ribs than literally anything I've tried all day long. I'm risking it for the biscuit right now and laying on a heating pad when I should PROLLY be lying on an ice pack but the heating pad feels really, really good. And enabled me to actually manage to write like 1K today.
So we actually get a WIP Sunday which is awesome. Uhhh...context, you really don't need a lot. This is a pretty short snippet dealing with Jaster and his men trying to interrogate people and Walon Vau just goes all creepy Walon Vau on them. Honestly, a little light psychological torture isn't the same as physical torture, right? Eh heh heh... As always, it's super rough first draft and subject to be edited blah blah blah.
“I got it.” Jango’s mouth twisted in a stubborn line, and Jaster fought back a frustrated sigh.
“Comm me if you need anything.” Jaster mussed his hair affectionately, much to Jango’s consternation, and gestured for Mij to follow him. “Stay close in case things go south? I’m going to go check in on the others.”
“Of course,” Mij reassured him with a smile.
“Good man.” Jaster shot him a smile and squeezed Mij by the shoulder before heading deeper into the warehouse in search of Myles.
He found him overseeing the interrogation of one of the Death Watch survivors in one of the small side offices. The man was unarmored and bound in chains much like [Spoiler character] had been to a chair seated at the table across from a blank-faced Walon Vau.
Much like Jaster, he’d opted to remove his helmet. Still, instead of humanizing him, the sight of those flat, golden eyes and that merciless patrician face somehow made him even more intimidating. In another life, he suspected Walon Vau would have made an effective interrogator though they rarely had called for those skills just by the nature of what they did. By the time they got face to face with their enemies, it was in the heat of battle.
Occasionally they did need to interrogate a scout or a hostile enemy agent for intel purposes. Still, it was a necessary evil of the job and one Jaster tried to avoid if at all possible.
“How’s it going?”
“Well, he was ranting and raving at Vau for a hot minute but I think he’s run out of steam.”
“So, are you willing to listen to what I have to offer now, or do you prefer to continue to waste your breath and my time with needless theatrics?” Walon asked his voice wintry cold.
“I will never betray the Death Watch. You can torture me all you want.” Came the predictably defiant response.
“I’m not going to torture you. Instead, I will surrender you to the authorities who will treat you like the violent terrorist you are and they will throw you into an isolation cell for the rest of your natural-born life.” Vau assured him dispassionately as he stared across the table at the Death Watch soldier with flat, hunter’s eyes.
“You will be an animal locked in a cage, they will throw away the key, and you will spend the rest of your life in a hole somewhere where you won’t see the sky again. And will never breathe another breath of fresh air as a free man." He continued to weave that horrific picture with that same flat, dispassionate tone of voice that bordered on a creepy monotone.
"Your only meaningful interactions will be with a hole in the door where they will deliver nutrient paste every...single...day without fail. You’ll never taste your favorite food again or enjoy another glass of ale for however many decades you live. And I hope you enjoy the company of your right hand because you won’t have a bedmate or enjoy the warmth of another person’s company in your bed anymore.”
The picture he painted was enough to make even Jaster feel claustrophobic. Could there be a worse fate for a proud Mandalorian? To be caged like an animal? Utterly controlled and restricted with minimal interactions and isolated like that? It sounded like hell to him and had unease crawling up his spine.
And judging by the way the man had gone pale and bloodless, Vau’s potent promises were hitting their mark.
“Kark me,” Myles muttered under his breath, and Jaster bumped his shoulder lightly before angling his head towards the door to indicate he wanted him to follow.
The younger man followed him without a word of protest and waited until they were out of earshot of the prisoner.
“You know? I thought your plan to take prisoners and interrogate without torture was a fool’s errand. But now, I think if you lock those poor bastards in a room with Walon Vau for an extended amount of time, he might actually get them to crack.”
“So it would seem. I’m glad he’s on our side.”
“I feel like maybe we should give him a raise and the promise to match anyone else’s offer if they try and poach him from our side because I don’t want to be on the other end of a battle with that man,” Myles said jokingly but there was a note of genuine truth in his tone all the same.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jaster murmured drolly.
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redemptioninchaos · 1 year
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(Nightmare for Sergio) He can see two things in front of him, one is some kind of purple portal. And in front of that stands Vendra. But... she doesn't look right. Something is wrong, she's scared. She turns around, opening her mouth to try and say something, but all that comes is a scream. And the cause of it came from the very portal itself. A huge hand made entirely out om metal came out of the portal and grabbed a hold of the small Nether, pulling her right in while she screams, "SERGIO!"
Sergio dove forward, trying to grab Vendra's hand before the portal could close. However, before the tabby could even touch her, the dream ended. He ended up falling off of his bed, grunting as he hit the ground.
He rubbed his head and got up, feeling a little confused. He sat back on the bed and pulled his comm unit, opening the messaging app.
[text] hey you up?
He backspaced. Nah, message is dumb as hell. She prolly sleep, anyway. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn't have anything meaningful to say. Was he supposed to mention how he had a dream about her? No matter what the context was, Neftin wouldn't have been happy to hear about anything of the sort, and Vendra already had enough to worry about.
He did keep Vendra in mind even more so than usual after they met during Valentine's Day. He caught himself gently rubbing the cheek she kissed throughout the day, reminiscing of the nicest gesture anyone had ever done for him in the last decade.
[text] are you safe?
Backspace.
[text] i just had a feeling
Backspace.
He had to tell himself that what he saw was only a dream, not a premonition. It was a good thing that Vendra wouldn't have been awake to see that he was typing so late at night.
Right?
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regulatedchaos · 5 months
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BDA Progress
10/17 zoom with Sir Francis
Sir Francis is the spiritual director of the facility and very hands on with the patients and stays beside and behind Cassie to protect him.
He is a recovered addict and been sober for 8 years (meth and gambling)
He sounds really genuine and pleasant.
So far no other diagnosis yet but Psychosis induced drugs (cannabis) I am the witness how he overused it and I feel kind of helpless that I wasn't able to stop him but I tried. I really did. It's saddening. Could it have gotten this worse if I was able to stop him? On second thought this could be a ticking Bomb and will happen eventually cos he is fucking stubborn and impulsive. Plus I was thinking this could be a great way to deal with his past trauma so he could be his best for Papicito and me. Cos it's also a lingering issue based on my observation.
Sir Francis is concerned and asked to stop Dra Francis to give Depacote and ketiapine 150mg(25g is adviced) which is really strong and can make him a robot if not stopped.
Cos Cassie has been sedated with those drugs and hinder with his mental capacity to communicate healthy and degrades his functionality. Making him lose his reality.
Program
1-2mos no comms
3rd month: can be called and visitations are allowed
4th: day pass- will be allowed to go out with an escort
5th: allowed to sleep 2nights with family
6th: 4days 3 nights with family
Privileges are earned and will be taken away if he behaves inappropriately (be defiant, violent, unruly he will be transferred to facility in Cebu)
Cassies mom will receive progress report every Friday beginning next week (thru email since he is Vietnam) and ate Ettiene asked of anyone else in the family can also get the report cos Cassie grew up with his tita's family (ate Ettienes mom) and then Cassies mom said she will share the progress.
"I spoke to him and He's very gentle and hoping it won't happen. We will just need to remove the drugs."
2-3mos: family therapy if Cassie wanted to include us.(video call)
Sir Francis: DOH and American Psych Association has proven that it takes two years for an addict to mentally stabilize.
BDA offers 6mos intensive 3mos after care.
Cassies mom always comes in too strong but you know it's coming from a concerned mom. Every time she says "my son" it's so stern but if you look beyond the words it's from a loving mother. It's apparent that they are really not close (Cassies real mom and Cassie's adoptive family which are his Tita whom he treated as his mom and tita's kids whom he treated as his siblings) and they're just all together cos of Cassie. I also can see and feel how they all love Cassie, their individual efforts and the way they ask the director questions for his well-being (in which he were assured of) most of his cousins were from medical field so they know what to ask.
No diagnosis yet if he really is bipolar or it was just because of the heavy cannabis use. Hopefully the latter.
I was late for the zoom meeting cos I had the worse gastritis attack in months. Contemplated for hours if I wanna go to the ER but everyone's busy and prolly it was due to stress.
17Oct23
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hanasnx · 10 months
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❝ moth to a flame. ❞
── hobie brown x reader
MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 2.9k SUMMARY: hobie’s sent to pick you up, but fights the power by sleeping with you instead. NOTES: takes place before across the spider-verse | hobie’s voice is hard to write for i tried my best | hobie is at least 18 they didnt specify in the movie but if hes not then hes aged up. WARNINGS: f!reader | established relationship (fwbs most likely but idk) | reader is a spider of her own universe | hobie has a nickname for you “bug” | no use of y/n | not rly edited mb | make out | light vag fingering | hand/height size difference (tried to make reader as ambiguous as possible) | usage of the word “cunt” | praise | dirty talk | objectification (mention of being used) | some degradation | sex a bit on the rougher side not too bad | (“quickie” kind of) protected and explicit sex.
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“Hobie?”
HOBIE BROWN lulls his head in the direction of the sound of his name. He hums in lazy affirmation as he fiddles with scraps in his hands. 
Jessica sighs, resting her fists on her hips when she shifts her weight. “Will you pick up your partner? She’s late, and she’s not answering her COMMs. See what’s going on.” 
“Prolly kidnapped; something vile.” Hobie responds, his device zaps him as if to punish him for his negative manifestation and he waves his hand to rid the sting. 
“Very funny.” she remarks, but it’s devoid of humor, crossing her arms and turning back to her blueprints. “See to it.”
He pushes off his chair with a huff. “Not her keeper, but just ‘cause you asked nicely.”
“Bug?” he calls through your apartment, having invited himself in with the spare key you keep under the mat. “Bug, it’s Hobes, I’m lettin’ myself in.” he warns loudly enough, shutting the door behind him. There’s no possibility you’re not home, he’s memorized your schedule by now. As he creeps closer to your bedroom, he hears the soft snoring emanating from behind the beads hanging in your doorway. A portière, decorated with a painted white, crescent moon. He’s surprised he didn’t wake you with all the noise he made, but he splits the strings down the middle, ducking in. From the looks of it, you didn’t waste time jumping into bed. Wearing a tank top and panties, cuddling the pillow underneath your cheek, the edge of the covers covering only the tips of your legs. Gingerly, Hobie crawls onto your mattress to lay next to you. His eyes take in your peaceful form, his large hand coming up to pet the hair back from your forehead, stroking down your back rising and falling with your breath. He had half a mind to swat your ass but figured he could get to that later. 
You murmur, and he scoffs. Did you sense him? Your parted lips appear so appealing, a passing fascination goads him to kiss you awake. His lips press against yours so gently. At first you have no response, but as he lingers, you stir. A content and groggy sound, and you tense your lips, chasing him. 
He obliges you, granting you a peck before propping himself up on his elbow. “Up late?” he asks, pinching the thin material of your tanktop between his fingers. 
“Bridge collapse on 51st, had to clean up. Didn’t make it back til…” you mumble, and peek your eye open, the brightness of the sunlight through your room temporarily blinding you. Your vision focuses on Hobie, and an instinctive smile stretches onto your mouth. “seven? Seven AM, I think.”
Your friend feigns a pout, cooing sympathetically, “Poor girl,” His hand ends its trail at the base of your spine, brushing his fingertips on your bare skin, dipping it underneath your ridden up top. Soothingly, he explores you, and your eyes fall closed, sighing in relaxation. “HQ was wonderin’ where you’re at. Sent me off to fetch you.” 
A pause, and your eyes fly open, picking yourself up to reach for your alarm clock twisting it to face you. “Hobie! Why didn’t you tell me?” you yelp. He’d been so sweet on you, you wanted it to last, but it’d lured you into a false sense of security. You stumble standing onto your soft mattress, kicking off the tangled sheets around your ankles to hop off. 
“Cool off, bug,” Hobie nestles further into your bed, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you. Lavender colored panties, not even big enough to cover your supple ass. He moistens his lips, biting down onto his piercing while you reach above you to grab a cardboard box from the top shelf of your closet. His thoughts now occupied by how he could get payback for earlier. “Why don’t we stall a bit?” he suggests, but the intention behind his words goes over your head.
“I can’t, I’m already in trouble with the bureau—“ you start, straining on the tips of your toes to balance the box on the pads of your fingers. You manage to pull it from its place, but you lose stability. Hobie appears behind you, beating you to catching it. 
You gulp, and slowly he sets the container in your hands. Directly behind you, he leans his head over your shoulder. 
“When’s a little trouble scared you off, heh?” His arms rest against another shelf, caging you in. 
His breath tickles your neck and you shy away because fiery heat sears your insides as it travels straight to your core. “C’mon, Hobes, don’t be like that. I’m trying to stay off the radar. Things are tense enough as is.” You duck under his elbow, casting aside the cardboard once you’d plucked your uniform from its spot. 
“Sure, sure,” Hobie nods, but his fake agreement doesn’t fool you. He shoves his hands into his vest pockets as he follows you out. “Listen to this though…” Attentively, you side-eye him, and he knows he’s got you interested. “Let’s ditch and catch up here.”
You narrow your eyes, a playful curl to your lips as you drop your arm holding your suit, and you rest your other fist on your hip. “Do you mean catch up? Or-“ Raising your hands, you form air-quotes. “‘catch up’?” 
Hobie scans your body, a generous look up and down, and he lulls back until his shoulder hits the framing, relaxing there. Jutting his chin, he offers a vague and cheeky response. “You decide.” 
You chew on the inside of your cheek, biting back a smile that threatens to display itself and exacerbate Hobie’s arrogant attitude. Having a cocky attitude is an attribute of his you can’t decide if you like. Your suit falls to the ground and you pick up the pace when you approach him. He anticipates your next move, stooping and clutching you when you leap into his arms. You secure your legs around his waist, cupping his cheeks to guide his lips to yours. 
It’s feverish, stolen breaths and parted lips, tilting your heads to deepen it further. The rush of rebellion always ignites a fire in you that Hobie is happy to fan. Neither of you thought of yourselves as exceptional kissers when you worked this fast, luckily you found each other, and your kissing styles fit together like puzzle pieces. Tightening your legs, you heighten yourself, as if to gain an edge by being taller than him. 
Hobie answers this by lumbering over to your bed, collapsing on top of you which you pay no mind to. As if you’re a couple of horny teenagers, he slides his hands underneath your ass, so he can grind into your crotch. Over his jeans, you can’t tell if he’s hard, but the delectable pressure makes you exhale through your nose. His fingers dig into your supple flesh, tasting all he can while his tongue is inside your mouth, chasing yours to explore. 
You had an urge to retract, to moan out his name and ask him to do something foul to you, but he beats you to this as well. Breaking the kiss, he impatiently relays to you, “Been fuckin’ horny for you, d’you know that?” 
The fabric over his zipper catches on your spread folds through your panties and your breath hitches in your throat. “I had a feeling.”
He moves quick, but you don’t mind it. You actually prefer it. The idea he came here knowing he was going to get some is enough to make you dampen. 
“Want me to do som’in about it?” 
“If you’re snappy about it, yes.” You adjust underneath him, searching for that friction, so he obliges you by pinning you with his hips to let you hump him properly. 
His tone conveys his amusement, “In a rush?” 
“Well, you did say I was wanted back at HQ. What are they gonna think if we take too long—? And we show up together?” While you talk, he rolls his abdomen, sweeping his hardening length over your clothed sex, and you shiver. 
He’s swift to derail your verbal thought process, familiar with your ability to overthink things. Your relationship with him is private, but that hasn’t shaken your feelings of inadequacy when you’re dwelling in someplace as daunting as the “spider-society.” Jumping dimensions without sanction or reason is frowned upon— if not an offense— and you and Hobie have a nasty habit of it. “We’re Spider-Men. World ain’t gonna save itself. We’ll tell ‘em we got caught up in som’in.” The word “spider-men” is simply a figure of speech. Contradicting its inherent gender by shifting his weight aside in order to find your sensitive nub, circling it with the pads of his digits. 
His skill with his fingers causes you to instinctively buck your hips. As confident as he was in his answer, you aren’t so sure that’d be acceptable to your superiors. Yet here you are, remaining underneath him. “Yeah, you did. I was ready to go before you pulled me in.” You want this just as much as he does. 
“Don’t act so innocent, you like this.” he calls you out and you try to change the subject of agreeing with him by fitting your hands between you, unbuckling his belt. 
“Hobie.” you croon sweetly, ceding your growing interest in what’s residing in his pants. 
He hooks a digit in your underwear, snapping the elastic against your skin as if to chastise your little show. “I wanted to go down on you first.”
“Next time. Just get inside me.” You undo his button next, and he’s pliant in your hands. Allowing you to shove his pants and boxers down until his dark treasure trail and a glimpse of his pubes are visible. 
“Tell you what,” To assuage you and your impatience, he daintily pinches the corners of your panties, pulling them down your thighs. “let me sleep over tonight.” 
You scoff at his dramatism and the way he stalls just to get a ride out of you. A level of hysterics sets in your tone as you react to him, “Yes! Yes, whatever you want, Hobie, I’d love that.” You shuffle away, reaching for the drawer of your nightstand to collect a condom. Your maneuver spreads your legs, and Hobie pervs on how you glisten. 
“Can't get over how lovely you are,” he muses, two of his curious fingers swiping from your clit down the surface of your sex, gathering the moisture there. Your head tips back, his touch— as fleeting as it was— is so heavenly. You try not to attribute that gift to his guitar-playing… at least, not out loud. “You know, I daydream about this cunt?” 
You sigh out his name, relaxing fully onto the bed while he lubes up his fingers with your essence, rounding your entrance to coax it to loosen. 
“You and your pretty sounds, stuck in my head. D’you know what you do to me, dove?” he emphasizes his sweet nothings with shallow dips into you. 
“Hobie, I’m so glad you’re here,” you confess. He’s not the only one that daydreams about the other. You’ve never shared your bed with anyone that makes you feel like Hobie does. A bit of kissing, a couple of certain touches, and you’re hounding him for his dick. “Do you want to fuck me, baby? Right now? I can’t wait any longer…” Who knows when you’ll have another opportunity like this?
Hobie— arrested in mid-motion to lean into your quivering sex, open and ripe for his taking, for his tasting— must steel himself. You want him now, and giving you head will have to wait ‘til tonight. “I dunno, bug, might be a little tight.” he warns, and thumbs your sensitive bud. You squeak and writhe, an ache blooming within you because of the absence of being filled. 
“I can take it, Hobes- God, please?” you beg, blindly reaching for his pelvis. 
Humored, he toys with you still. “Am I your god?” he teases. 
You huff and pick yourself up, snatching his wrist to shove the condom into his palm. He takes the direction— finally— and rips the wrapper with his teeth. “You are such a jerk.” 
“Pity you need this jerk to get yourself off, eh?” The words bring a grin to your face, and he yanks his pants down fully, rolling the latex onto himself. He catches your eye, witnessing the hunger in your dilated pupils, the anticipation in the way you chew your lower lip. You sit up, enveloping his gloved cock with your hand to lead him over. Obediently, he follows you, amazed at how a motion like that sent a painful throb straight to his dick. Whenever you get exasperated enough to take what you want from him, Hobie can’t help but tease you mercilessly in order to achieve that result. 
Balancing on his knees and his hand next to your cheek, he lets you direct him. His swollen head inclining into you, meeting a brief resistance. 
You reassure him, “It’s okay, I’m okay. Keep going,” You replace your hands, resting them on his nimble hip bones. Sinking in, that delicious stretch draws a moan out. 
“Fuck, yes. Music to my fucking ears.” Hobie captures your mouth in a kiss, swallowing those sounds, taking them for his own as he inches into you. Listening to them strain against the base of your throat as his cursory thrusts deepen. Unable to speak, you can’t admit to him how full you feel as soon as he bottoms out. His cock perfectly sheathed inside you, basking in the moment until you wiggle your hips, signaling for him to pick the pace up. He’s messed with you long enough, and he can’t pretend any longer how thin his self-control is wearing. Pulling all the way out, he slams back into you, the force of it rippling your body in a most pleasurable way. As if electrical currents of delight spark up your spine with each piston. 
Once he adopts a steady rhythm, he breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting the two of you after you practically fucked each other’s tongues. “I fucking missed you,” you breathe, gazing up at him with stars in your eyes as he adjusts your legs to fold over. Creating a new angle, your eyebrows twist as the tip of his cock hits a new spot. The web of his thumbs tuck in the backs of your knees, squishing your tits together in between your thighs. Bouncing with each of his thrusts. 
“Fuck, you’re beautiful. Could watch you do this all day. Takin’ my cock this good.” Your pussy slurps him up, emitting the most delectable and filthy noises. “So fucking wet,” 
“All for you, Hobie, all for you.”
There’s a certain part of himself that’s revealed whenever he’s around you. How susceptible he is to praise in these certain circumstances. Your loving words make him work harder, fucking you into the mattress, keeping you in that mating press. Unintelligible noises spill from your mouth, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let him fuck you to his heart’s desire. The continual attention to that spongy spot inside of you makes that coil inside your belly tighten. The angle of the position, and how expertly he rolls his hips, causes tremors in your legs to surface. 
Usually, Hobie’s keen on staying verbal. Maintaining conversation with anything he can think of, but this time he’s different. Allowing himself to reduce to his basest desires. The kind that control getting the hell off, and using your body to do it. By God, are you fucking happy to do it. Unlike a vessel of pure pleasure, you’re beyond satisfied to let him abuse your hole like this until he’s milked clean because it edges you closer to your own release. 
It nears as Hobie rails you faithfully, and you claw at his biceps. Your walls involuntarily clench. 
“That’s it, baby, that’s it!” he commends, and you feel the ever-present heat on your cheeks warm further. “You gonna cum for me? All over my cock, yeah?” One of his favorite sensations in the world. How you flood around him until it seeps out of you. 
Sentences can’t form in your head, you can only nod furiously to alert him. 
“Go on, touch yourself for me.” You obey his suggestion, and when you lift your trembling hand, he helps you along. Enveloping yours in his hand, he guides it to his mouth, sucking on two of your digits, tonguing them to wet them. Once lubricated, he sticks them in between the two of you, rubbing your clit with them. You whimper. Every cell in your body screaming at you to release, and a couple circles to your nub and you unravel. 
Those tremors travel, igniting every nerve ending as he slows his roll to ride it out with you. Your orgasm is powerful, tensing up your body, including closing up your holes around Hobie who immediately stutters his hips because of it. How you tighten around him becomes the perfect opportunity. You’re so busy letting your euphoria wash over you, Hobie uses it to his advantage, cumming with you. 
The latex protects you, but you can still feel the temperature change inside of you. How things get more slippery, and your own liquid oozing out of you as he pulls out. Sweaty, and out of breath, he collapses next to you to ease the condom off of his softening length. 
A comfortable silence is broken by his cheeky comment, “Tonight, do you fancy another go?” 
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the-archangel · 1 year
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V’s Diary Part 2
[Note: Around 85% of Kerry and V’s in-game arc was covered in the first entry, so I might have to get a bit fast and loose with the beginning of the story for this one, the end however is in-game lore, I checked, a lot. Be warned  - inexpertly written but enthusiastically researched sexy times ahead!]
——————————————————————————
 “You’re not writing in that crappy, boring journal again? Shit V, I might just delta now to save the trouble.”
“Fine Johnny, whatever. You prolly wouldn’t like it anyway.”
“Colour me intrigued, maybe I’ll stick around after all....”
 V, typing: The day after the Dark Matter gig, I felt like shit. Not because of what had happened, that was all preem, more because of the mouthy terrorist in my head trying to kill me. I’d passed out on the bathroom floor for a good portion of the morning, missed a couple of jobs – nothing that would’ve changed the world, but it’s never good to let down a fixer. Fortunately, (kinda, I guess) most of them know my situation and give me some leeway. By the afternoon I was feeling more myself, stretched my legs doing some gigs for Dakota in The Badlands and visited Vik for a couple of upgrades....
“Gosh V, your life is so thrilling. I thought you weren’t writing about the boring shit?”
“I’m setting the scene, Butt out Silverhand.”
...... all without realising that I’d left my dumb phone on the bathroom floor. The pricey upgrade to use the holo without a phone was out of my reach until recently, and then I just hadn’t gotten around to it, and now anything could be going on and I wouldn’t know – shit!
 I’m rushing to get home so much, I nearly crashed the Porsche a couple a times pulling into the garage....
“You would’ve if I hadn’t taken the wheel.”
“Ok, maybe you’re not entirely useless.”
 .... I get parked, get in the lift and push through to my apartment, as usual Nibbles is there to meet me, but so is my smashed phone, still in the water on the bathroom floor......
 “Hey Johnny, did people in the 2020’s have mobile phones?”
“No V, we all used pigeons and smoke signals instead.”
“Really?? – Nah I’m just messing with you. They didn’t though, right?”
“No, no they didn’t. Sheesh.”
 Frantically, I dry the phone, shake off the worst of the glass and, thankfully it comes on, still half-charged. 7 messages from Regina (No, I don’t need another car right now, yes, I will deal with your psycho problem in Kabuki.) and one other from Kerry. He really enjoyed the previous evening and would like to go out for a drink sometime. Preem!
 I needed to check out some new contacts, so I suggested that I’d pick him up on the Apollo and we could bike down to the Afterlife. He’d not been for years, but agreed that it sounded fun, I didn’t care where we went, and I just wanted to feel his lithe, tanned body pressed up to mine for the journey.
 “Johnny, are you ok with this?”
“Course V, I’m not some prissy, tight-assed debutante who’s never kissed a guy.”
“Wait,.... What??”
“Never mind....”
“.......”
 Anyway, I pick Kerry up at his place, he climbs up behind and ......
[muffled] “Snksnk.”
..........and we head towards the bar. The ride is pretty uneventful, Kerry holds on to my belt-loops and is the perfect passenger, leaning and turning with the road. We have a chat with Clare, Kerry is disappointed that she doesn’t recognise him, but never shows it. I leave him with Johnny’s old flame Rogue, chatting about the old days and I network the room. Got a couple of leads, a possible heist (maybe not) and picked up some contacts.
The rocker comes to find me at around 11, “Wanna dance?”
Afterlife isn’t much of a dance bar, but Kerry flings his arm around my neck in the most debauched manner imaginable, pulling me towards him and I couldn’t say no. We begin moving (awkwardly in my case) to the heavy music, chest to chest, groin to groin we move as one with Kerry whispering filth in my ear, all I can do is sigh into his neck and slide my hands down to grab his righteous ass. It’s only Rogue’s passing comment about screamsheets lapping this up that brought us back to reality. Good job too, I was ready to do him right there on the bar....
He steps back, licking his lips, “We good to go V? I turn into a pumpkin these days if I’m not home by 1.” I chuckle at the thought of a sexy little Kerry pumpkin sat on his lawn; he reads what I’m thinking and laughs a gruff, sexy cackle.
Neither of us were what you could call sober, but I’d driven in far worse states and as long as Ker could stay on the back we’d be fine....
 “Ker?”
“What’s the problem now Johnny?”
“You just called him Ker.”
“Yeah, I did didn’t I?”
 How to get him on the bike was the first puzzle. Every time Kerry lifted a leg to pass it over the seat, he took a step back and missed, in the end I had to get off to let him crawl over and drop his leg on the other side, then squeeze in front of him without him falling off the back. It might be the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Then, he wrapped his arms around me to hold on tight, much as it was kinda nice, I also kinda like breathing when I’m driving, so I wiggled til he loosened up and we headed back to his.
Somewhere up there, there are stars and I was riding beneath them with Kerry behind me, his hands up my shirt resting on my abs, his cheek on my back and his hot groin sliding towards me at every corner – breathtaking.
Just before the North Oak bends, I felt the chrome in his throat humming on my back. It took me a minute to realise that he was snoring – not how the date was supposed to go...
“A date is it now?”
“You know it was Johnny.”
“I guess....”
I took my time on the bends, didn’t want to lose rock god Kerry Eurodyne over the side of a cliff, and made it to his door. Now I’m faced with a quandary. Not being able to quite see what position he’s in, I’m not sure what will happen if I try and dismount without waking him, but I don’t want to wake him. I want to see his face, serene in sleep and to kiss his eyelids til he wakes.....
“......”
“?”
-
-
....but he wakes as I move to get off the Apollo, slides his hands back down my stomach and rests them on his thighs before yawning loudly and stretching theatrically.“Thanks V. Had a great night.” he purrs.
“Mhm, me too. You know you were asleep there for the last couple of miles?”
“Yep, knew I was in good hands.... V, can I ask you to do something for me?”
“Course Ker, anything.”
“Not sure I’m ever going to get the hang of you having Johnny silently judging me in your head, could you just, y’know,  talk out loud to him when we’re together, let me have some clue what’s going on?”
“Sure, nothing easier. Night Ker.”
“Night V.”
He walks a few feet closing the gap between us and holds my face in his hands, looking deep into my eyes, my soul, eyes never wavering from mine he kisses me gently, almost chaste, soft but with a bite as he catches my bottom lip in his teeth and pulls. Then he backs up, smirking devilishly, the door opens and he’s gone. His eyes never once left mine the whole time, I needed a minute before I could sit on the bike in my tightening jeans.
“... V, you should probably skip the next bit...”
“What, how do you know what happened next, I took a bloc......shit. I meant to take a blocker then Mama Welles called and, .....oh never mind.”
“I’ll sum up for you, rode home, shower, embarrassingly short jerk off, bed.”
“...Gee thanks, Johnny, who needs self-esteem?”
“You’re welcome.”
 Ker called really early the next day, I wished Jackie was here cuz I’d want to see his face when I tell him I’d been invited for drinks on a yacht with a rock star. This is the big leagues Jackie!
It was originally supposed to be an afternoon thing, but Kerry messaged to say that something had come up and to meet at 7. Every time the phone rang I flinched in case it was him cancelling.
At 7 prompt.....
“....Actually it was 6:25”
“Fuck off Johnny.”
“Just tryin to help.”
 ...At around 7 I went to meet the boat. Ker welcomed me on board with a shitty pirate impression that made me laugh and he sat with his guitar on his leather clad knee gesturing me over. As I approached he patted the seat right next to his thigh, so I obediently sat thigh to thigh with the most fucking beautiful and intoxicating man in the world.
I leaned back with my eyes closed as he played a hauntingly beautiful, relaxing riff, the deep timbre of his humming vibrating deliciously through my thighs, he told me a bit about his life, his beliefs and so on. It felt like a privilege. He seemed very tied up in ‘life’s loops’.....
“D’you see what I did there Johnny?... Johnny...? Hmph”
...A philosophy (I guess) about important things coming back around. He told me about his guitar, its scarcity, its importance, and then smashed it dramatically to bits on the decking. He paced like a caged tiger looking for destruction; I would have done anything he asked of me that night. I still would. Kerry’s reasons for the upcoming destruction – more music biz stuff – went over my head, but the anger, passion and vitriol he was putting into wrecking that boat were infectious. I followed his lead and we totalled that shit – it was awesome.
 “....Johnny, you sleepin?....Johnny??...... Kay, ..sweet”
 So this time I definitely know I took the blockers, it’s not that I expected something to happen, but I hoped it would and didn’t want to waste any time.
The sweat on his body glowed like he was lit from within, his eyes sparkled with electricity (could’ve been the optics I guess) his full, open lips were too, too much to resist, so why bother and we clung onto each other like ships in a storm, lips pressing hard together until the clink of teeth warns us to slow down. He steps back to turn up the radio and displays his toned physique before taking a single step towards me and freeing me from my pants. His warm, calloused hand works my shaft expertly; his eyes are on mine once again, looking deep inside me as he brings me close to orgasm. But this guy is obviously a tease and likes to play, luckily, so do I. I slap his gorgeous ass – hard – eliciting a moan of pure lust and he turns to let me feel how hard he is.
“We need to get those pants off Ker.” I undo the laces and he pushes the leather down his perfect thighs until his erect dick bobs into view, I lick off the pre-cum and take in him my mouth briefly, until I’m pushed back and Kerry’s lips slide easily over my shaft, right to the balls which he takes in his hand and squeezes at the exact moment that I cum explosively into his fucking beautiful mouth. He smiles and swallows – I think I’m falling in love. The lighter is a surprise, thoughts of danger are forgotten though as I watch the firelight reflected in the depths of his eager eyes. Much of the rest is a blur, he lifts my thighs, slides inside me, bracing on my chest, he cums hard. I play rough, grabbing his throat, throwing him on the ground until I corner him and take him from behind , the breathy pants and groans tell me I’m on the right track. Just before I can finish in him again, he spins, pushing me backwards onto the seating and mounts my lap, bouncing his gorgeous ass on my grateful prick, but the fire burns too brightly and I finish lamely , gasping for air and massaging Kerry’s cum into my stomach as we run for the door and we abandon ship.
A moment of calm descends on the beach as we watch the Seamurai go down. Kerry is vibrating with potential and excitement, full of ideas. It feels like moments, but we sit for an hour or so talking, kissing and making promises. We both feel safe and optimistic in that moment, if only it could last.....
 “...Johnny? Do you mind me sleeping with Kerry?”
“Don’t get above yourself kid, you have one fuck and now you think you’re sleeping together? Ha!”
“What? No, it’s way more than one time.”
[Kerry’s voice] “More like, what? 15, 16?”
“Sounds about right for this week so far Ker. Didn’t you notice the blockers bottle emptying Johnny?....Johnny?”
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galaxygermdraws · 3 years
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would you consider sharing the Imp and Skizz headcanons you have?? pls???
Oh anything for the person who gave me my favorite Imp n Skizz angst AU + 3L drabbles ever, why wouldn't I? (No joke tho Separation AU is amazing and the reason I even know of Skizz's existence-)
So I guess I'll do Lore this time since last hc drop was just pain. Feel free to ask me to go into detail on any of these btw. U r also allowed to expand upon any of these ideas
So first off, both of them were born completely human. It just so happened Impulse ended up in the End and he doesn't really know why, but he was raised by the Ender Dragon(who I personally hc as a goddess of sorts), n she realized it'd be hard for him to survive as a mere human so she blessed him, n that's why he's considered to be Enderborn.
And Impulse lives in the End for like 10 to 15 years, the Dragon vanishe very early into this time, before Skizz finds him. Impulse doesn't entirely trust Skizz at first, given he can't even understand him, but Skizz isn't threatening Impulse or any of the nearby Endermen(surprisingly), so Impulse sees no reason to not trust him.
After a while, Impulse goes to the Overworld for the first time, and at one point he gets spooked n the 2 get separated and Skizz kinda finds Impulse half dead, shaking on the ground and crying (and given Impy has never felt this much physical pain in his life, makes sense). He picks him up n takes him home, placing him in bed n taking care of him as much as he knows how to.
This is probably when Impulse truly starts to trust Skizz, and this is probably when the two start teaching the other their own languages. Because Impulse was raised in the End, he can't speak English, but a less complicated dialect of Galactic. Meanwhile, Skizz can speak English, n has to try n teach it to Impulse. Given the two of them talk very similarly, Impulse prolly picked up on some of the weird speech habits Skizz has.
From this point the two of them just kinda live together n it's really soft. They basically become brothers and are practically inseparable. Then ofc they find Tango n Zed and the quartet is complete.
And then of course... Impulse eventually gets summoned to HC. I like to think the summoning spell is a more advanced way of summoning the Dragon, so that's why n how Impulse can be summoned, but this left Skizz n Zed alone on the quartet's main world.
Skizz tried not to think Impulse was dead but he had never seen that happen before, and Zed was tryna get in contact with Tango, unaware that that's who summoned Impulse.
Of course they all figure out what happened and things are okay.
As for other headcanons I've got, some of my personal favs
-Impulse helps Skizz adjust to getting Enderman powers after 3L. Impulse doesn't have all these powers, but he has some, and some of those happen to be powers Skizz also ended up getting. (i.e. teleporting specifically). This also means Impulse can directly look Skizz in the eyes without freaking him out, since the Enderman data made Skizz extremely skittish when it came to eye contact.
-This is more a ZITS headcanon then just Imp n Skizz, but they've all got friendship bracelets(even if I forget to draw them half the time)
-Imp n Skizz have the same height to age difference as Mario n Luigi and honestly Is There a Better comparison? I think not.
-These 2 def have a tad bit of separation anxiety from each other so Tango rigged their comms so they can communicate between SMPs no problem.
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swaps55 · 3 years
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Before the Beginning?
No Excuses Writing Meme
BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project
Current project: Cantata
~
Quiet bunch.
Kaidan folds his hands behind his back at parade rest, resisting the urge to pace the Myeongnyang’s comm room, where he’s been parked with the new marine squad for the last forty minutes. He wracks his brain for an icebreaker, but the icy look he’d gotten from Private Aslany for asking where she was from suggested he'd need a bigger chisel.
Besides, everyone keeps looking at the door, waiting for the Butcher of Torfan stroll through and inform them their lives are now in his hands.
Corporal Pendergrass keeps fiddling with her omni-tool between door glances. The Alliance uniform is the only clue she’s even old enough to be here, but just watching her fingers work the haptic shortcuts at just short of light speed suggest she’ll be hard to keep up with. The aforementioned Aslany stands utterly still with her arms folded across her chest, scowl on her face all but daring everyone in the room to pick a fight. Service Chief Beaudoin, on the other hand, slouches against the back of a chair with the bored look of someone who's seen it all before. Given he's got six years on Kaidan and has spent all of them here, he probably has.
Private Wong is the only one who paces, occasionally muttering under his breath and casting as many glances at Aslany as he does the door. Whatever their introduction was before Kaidan showed up, the daggers in her eyes indicate Wong should probably request a do-over.
“So where do you think he is?” Pendergrass asks finally.
“Probably setting a house full of kittens on fire,” Wong replies.
“Stow the chatter,” Kaidan snaps. “That’s your XO you’re talking about.”
Beaudoin slides a glance Kaidan’s way but stays silent.
“He’s spec ops, right?” Pendergrass persists. “Kittens are prolly below his paygrade.”
Wong opens his mouth again, but shuts it after a sidelong glance at Kaidan.
When the door does slide open, it’s not Lieutenant Commander Shepard’s silhouette that greets them.
“Captain,” Kaidan says, squaring his shoulders.
Captain Oseguera gives him a brisk once-over before skimming over the rest of the squad. She can’t be much more than 170 centimeters, but the way she carriers herself, Kaidan has to check the impulse to look up.
“Lieutenant, may I see you outside?”
He nods, glancing briefly at the others before following her out.
“Ma’am?” he asks when the door closes behind him. The CIC is only staffed with a skeleton crew, with the rest not due to report back from Arcturus until closer to departure. Only the marine squad had been called in early.
Captain Oseguera inhales deeply though her nose. “Lieutenant Commander Shepard hasn’t reported for duty. I need you to go find him.”
Kaidan’s eyes widen. “He’s AWOL?”
“That’s what I need you to find out. Find his location and report back to me.”
“If I find him, I assume you’d like me to bring him in.”
She scrutinizes him carefully, brow furrowed deep. “Depending on what you find, I’ll leave that decision up to you.”
Kaidan shifts his weight. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. That will be all.”
She dismisses him with a curt nod. Kaidan salutes and heads for the airlock.
Lieutenant Commander Shepard, the Butcher of Torfan, failing to report for duty.
Not really the introduction he'd been hoping for. So much for getting a tour of the ship.
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Text
They’ll pay...(HC)
Requested by a candy-cotton Anon: Oh hhhhh what if, what if,, you do something where there's a very dangerous mission going on and Damian gets injured to the point of being rushed back to the cave with someone while everyone else (including reader) has to complete the mission and Damian just gets real worried about everything, tries to escape, yknow normal Dami stuff hehe (1/2) Hiiii I was the one with the worrying Damian thing I forgot to add: you get to decide the ending on whether or not the reader is still alive and prolly injured or.... The very thing that will break Damian. (another thing: they in a relationship ehe) thanks bye luv ya (2/2)
Warning: A bit angsty ya know my guys, but I didn’t decide to go the whole ten yards with it, hope y’all enjoy, also, I decided to make it Headcanons, because it wasn’t specified what the Anon wanted and I kinda felt like it
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Okay so it isn’t uncomment that Damian hurts himself on missions
To be fair it isn’t uncommen for any of you
That’s just the risk you take
Fighting villains doesn’t really happen by itself does it now?
But it was somewhat seldom for any of you to be hurt enough to have to be actually brought back to the Cave by someone else
But during one fight against a way-too-good coordinated gang of seriel-robbers, they came out of nothing but fought like they had been in the buisness for ages, exactly that happened
Damian recieved a few punches and kicks too many and was in no state to continue fighting
You were currently occupied with defending yourself against the blows and bullets that were coming from all around you so you were not able to get to him and bring him home by yourself, but Duke was luckily near enough to get to him and get him out as quick as possible
Damian is not happy
He may be in pain and wants nothing more than to sleep for a week, but it’s still Damian we’re talking about
He’s a little fury-filled demon who will not go down without a fight
Even if he already lost the fight (more or less)
He’s exhausted enough to let Duke bring him to the cave, but then his thoughts get the best of him
If he, the son of Batman and the grandson of the demon, couldn’t hold himself against these criminals, how could you?
After that it’s spiralling out of controle
All the different scenarios go through his head and he can still hear the voices of his family talking with Alfred through the comms
He can’t continue fighting no matter what he tells himself and he sure as hell isn’t good at sneaking right now
He tries to
Wants to sneak away from Alfred and get back to the fight
It’s not like you could escape from Alfred anyways
But the fact that he’s groaning after every step doesn’t really help
After a while Alfred had enough and basically ties Damian to the hospital bed
He completely wears himself out by trying to escape, to no avail, and falls asleep
When he wakes up Bruce is sitting on the side of his bed with a sombre look on his face and all the worry he felt comes right back
In his mind there is only one reason why Bruce would be there and look like that
Shit shit shit shit shit
No this can’t be happening
There’s no way
Turns out there is actually no way, because before he can even say anything you come in with wet hair and a blue eye that must hurt a lot
“I told you he would wake up as soon as I left to take a shower,” you chuckled and came over to him to give him a kiss on his forehead
Bruce excused himself and said he had to look after the others who all had taken quite a beating
“Your eye,” Damian would mutter and carefully trace the outline of the blue mark 
“Meh, it’s not that bad, you should see the other guy,” you chuckled again only to wince in pain, “Even though he did quite a job on a few of my ribs”
“They’ll pay” - grumpy Damian­­™
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bylightofdawn · 1 year
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Whaaaaaat me managing to slip in some Kal Skirata low-key misogyny for old-time's sake into my fanfic?
Look, Traviss wrote that man into the fucking ground and has kinda ruined the character for life with the last Rep Comm book. Some hot and medium-spicy takes below.
I MAY end up cutting this, I'm kinda on the fence. Jaster makes a comment to the gathered boys about how you can sell everything up to and including your body but if you sell out your honor, you can't ever get it back. (This is in regards to his past experience with Tor Vizsa for context)
And I had Skirata make a flippant comment on how he thought it interesting Jaster would put that above selling your body and Jaster kinda calls him out saying he's not going to judge someone for selling their bodies so long as it's their choice and they have a say in the matter. And then points out they sell themselves just like sex workers do they simply sell their martial skills but they're no better than sex workers and he has no right to feel like he's superior somehow because of it.
Which I kinda want to keep because I think it kinda demonstrates Jaster's kinda pretty clear-eyed view on what they do and how he's remarked multiple times in canon about how they are selling their skills for money and don't look down on them because they do that. They comport themselves with honor and have a code of ethics but they are still mercenaries. (Also this is me projecting but I like the idea of Jaster being pro-sex worker and respecting the hustle) Maybe I am soapboxing a little bit here.
So yeah, I'm kinda waffling on this. I also have a low-key hate boner for Kal Skirata because of his pretty overt misogyny throughout the Rep Comm books. Like to the point in the last book I wanted to take a fucking shower and claw my skin off.
Which again I ask myself why am I including two characters I dislike in my fic? FUCK IF I KNOW. Maybe I'm trying to work out some of my personal issues with the characters in my own way.
Maybe I'm hoping if Jaster doesn't die, Jango doesn't lead them to disaster on Galidraan and proceed to go off the deep end, they won't turn out as bad as they did in the Rep Comm books.
 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Hmmm gonna add some spicy trigger warnings to this post just to be safe.
Also welcome the shit 1:00 El thinks about I guess. Anything I post after midnight is prolly going to be some level of fucked or unhinged in someway.
I’m like a fucking mogwai who got fed after midnight. And if you don’t get that reference you’re prolly too young to be around the parts. Go ask your parents or google that shit. 🙃
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sunflowersteves · 4 years
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Hi! Can I please request a Bucky x short!civilian!fem!reader where her & Bucky are engaged & She figures out she’s pregnant while he’s still in Wakanda getting rid of the brainwashing. She’s really happy, but lowkey panicking because Bucky isn’t there & she doesn’t know when he’ll be back, & the rest of the team are on a mission. She starts crying because of this & FRIDAY alerts the team (a worried Sam leaving to come back right away to check on her) + the team comes back with a surprise: Bucky
Bucky x short!civilian!fem!reader
author’s note || omg, I totally forgot I had these in my ask box, I’m so sorry! I was working on so many fic challenges and then summer school it completely went over my head! Anyway, I really liked writing this and I hope you like it! @kpopgirlbtssvt
warnings || angst to fluff, prolly swearing, panic attack, pregnancy
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You just stare at the pregnancy test in front of you, crouching over on the toilet seat. You were totally and royally fucked. You can’t be pregnant. Well, you could. You honestly really wanted to be. But the one thing that was stopping you from jumping up and down in excitement was:
What would Bucky say?
He’s been in Wakanda for the past three months and even though Shuri was able to find a cure to save his mind from the terrors of Hydra, you had no idea how would he react must less even know when he was coming back. You were even trembling at the thought that he didn’t want you, or the baby.
Not to mention that you’re finding out about this one hundred percent alone. The team had offered you to stay at the tower since Bucky was gone and you didn’t want to be alone so you accepted. However, right now they were on a mission and you knew when you threw up this morning that it wasn’t from food poisoning. You hadn’t had anything that could trigger that.
Natasha had her suspicions after you had been complaining about various odd smells in the room and then you missed your period. You really just hoped it was your birth control being weird but now you knew. You were having a baby. Your lips attempted to curl into a smile but immediately faltered as the appending doom of the unknown clouding your mind. 
You started to breathe heavily, feeling like your lungs were filled with water and you couldn’t get back at the surface. Tears streamed down your face and the test started to shake in your hand.
“Miss y/n?” The AI boomed through your ears but you couldn’t make out what she was saying. A gasp escaped your lips as you tried to breathe but the world crashing in and closing in on you made you cower. There was no way
“Miss y/n, do you need help?” the AI still got no answer, watching as your vitals reached dangerous spikes. Your heart rate looked like you had run a whole marathon and your blood pressure looked like you had eaten a full jar of pickles. “Miss y/n, I’m contacting the team. You’ll be okay.” You didn’t even hear her, slipping off the toilet seat and onto the ground. You pull your knees in as the tears continue to flow. 
--
“Sam, are you in position?” He presses a finger to the comm, “Roger that. Get it? Because of Steve- Ow!” Natasha rolled her eyes and grabbed a knife from her belt, ready to attack whatever came in front of her. Tony, in his suit, straightened himself from his position. 
“Tony-” “Steve, shut up.” The team waits for his signal, but he lifts a hand up notifying them to stop. Steve sighs and just waits with an arched brow. They were trying to get this done and then bring Bucky home so what’s the holdup?
“F.R.I.D.A.Y says y/n’s not well.” Everyone froze, immediately crowding around Tony and asking tons of questions. “She’s having a panic attack and her heart rate and blood pressure are skyrocketing. She also just found out she’s pregnant, so she can’t afford the stress.” The whole team stared at each other wide-eyed, they really wanted to cheer but if she was in trouble, now was not the time. 
“Look, someone needs to go and check on her. The rest of us can get this mission done and bring Bucky home. He’ll want to be there.” Everyone nods and Sam volunteers to go and help calm you down.
--
You had no idea how long it has been. An hour? Five minutes? Who knows. F.R.I.D.A.Y had been trying to get you to drink some water but you refused. Your mind couldn’t comprehend anything but fear and the feeling of an abyss that you’re slowly sinking into. You didn’t even hear Sam burst through your room and into the bathroom.
He crouched in front of you, “Hey, sweetie pie.” You jumped a bit, startled by him. You opened your mouth but all you could do was gasp for air. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I want you to breathe with me okay? Can you do that?” Sam rubbed circles on your back and wiped the tears falling down your face. “Okay, I want you to follow me, sweetie pie, okay?” You nod as Sam started to slowing breathe in and then exhale out. Steadily, your breathing was getting someone back to normal, F.R.I.D.A.Y notifying her vitals slowly going back to normal. 
“You’re doing great. Just keep following me.” You gave a deep breath out, oxygen filling your lungs again. “In and out.” Once your panic attack was ceased and you were calm, Sam had you drink some water and he continued to rub your back in comfort.
F.R.I.D.A.Y then notified the two of you that the team was back. You ran out to the quinjet landing pad, the grass tickling your bare feet. You stood, waiting for the team to shuffle out. What you were really not expecting was a certain super soldier that was also on the jet.
“Where is she, Steve?” Your eyes twinkled at that voice. You knew that voice. “Steve, I swear to fucking god, which room is hers?” “Buck.” He whipped around so quickly it made him a bit dizzy. He ran off the jet ramp and enveloped you into his arms. “Oh god, doll, are you okay? You aren’t hurt, are you? Is the baby okay? Did Sam even help? I bet he was shitty at helping you I swear if he-” You immediately pressed your lips to his and wrapped his arms around his neck. He was startled at first but eventually reached up and cupped your face, savoring the sweet taste of your lips.
“So, who told you? Steve can’t keep secrets from you but he wouldn’t bring it up either.” Bucky smirked and put his large hand on your belly, “It was Tony. He was too excited to be a grandpa.”
“Hey! I’m fun uncle material at best. Steve would be the grandpa, he’s the oldest person alive.” Steve’s face pulled into a frown, “What? I’m not a grandpa!” Tony shrugged as your laughter filled the air. “I don’t make the rules, Rogers.” 
“That’s not fair, Tony!”
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dragonblobz · 4 years
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Ever watched Resurrection F, looked at Tagoma, and thought "God i wish that were me." No? Anyways have this self indulgent canon divergent one shot. No smut but I'll prolly do a part 2 which will be smuttfilth.
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WARNING: CANON DEATHS AND VIOLENCE
You weren’t ready. Not when they’d hauled Lord Frieza back in pieces. Not when he’d burst from the healing tank in a spray of calm fury.
You had heard stories. So many stories. Of his might. Of his ruthless power. But you’d never seen him. You’d seen images of him, yes. But in person…….
He was much shorter than you’d ever imagined he’d be. Dwarved by all except perhaps the Commander.
But his diminutive nature both began and ended there. The Emperor radiated strength and vivacity, even as the liquid from the tank still glistened on his alien skin.
You caught yourself staring at the gem atop his head. Starlight and other mysteries of the cosmos seemed to play in its depths, mixing with the sparkle of the fluid which rolled down it in rivulets. Droplets splattered as he turned his head to gaze at everyone with inherent distaste. You felt your throat tighten as you remembered your place and dropped your gaze.
It had all happened quickly. Commander Sorbet's simpering. Tagoma stepping forward and speaking out of turn. What was wrong with them? Couldn’t they feel him? Couldn’t they feel that simmering rage and power? You dropped your gaze all the way to the floor.
A motion from Lord Frieza had you lifting your eyes again. A raised arm. A single pointed finger. A red glow in the center of Tagoma's chest. You watched as the Elite floated up to be pinned to the large window. His face was bland and slack with fear. And then all was still.
You felt bile raise in your throat at the dawning horror weighing like a pit of lead in your stomach. As you realized what Frieza was going to do.
There was no time too empathize. No time to ponder your own instant drive to survival rather than to cry out or warn anyone else. You reached over and clutched to a pipe on the wall used for drainage to the tanks. Clutched it so hard that your palms stung and a nail chipped. And just in time. With a casual flick of Frieza's wrist, and the extension of his pointer finger, the window shattered.
The next instant was all fading screams and terror. What soldiers where not caught upon something or catching hold of something else, were strewn into space like so much writhing living confetti.
Fire shot thru your fingers and you couldn’t help but squeal as a nail was ripped away. You watched helplessly as soldiers who had been holding things just as you, lost their grip and were lost to the vacuum. Machinery and electronics followed suit. You felt the pipe you were holding beginning to bend.
But you didn’t notice. You were being pulled so mercilessly. Your feet dangled upwards till your body was vertical with the floor. But all you saw, standing before you, visible between the toes of your boots, was the Emperor. Still as death, his arm still raised, finger pointed like a blade. As unmoving as if he himself were part of the very bulkhead. And even in all the cacophony and noise, he still dominated the energy of space with his massive aura of power.
“SHIELDS! RAISE THE SHIELDS!!” You barely heard Commander Sorbet screaming into the comm.
The absence of the vacuum was instantaneous and more pain bloomed in your side as you crashed unceremoniously to the floor. You fought the pain in order to regain your footing and stand at attention.
He turned from the shattered window then. In order to avoid his gaze, you focused on that window. On the portal that had just expelled so many of your comrades. You didn’t even realize how your jaw trembled.
You didn’t hear much of the following conversation. Your mind was numb. But the cadence of his voice itself couldn’t be ignored. Calm. Bored. Angry. All in one tone.
You jerked involuntarily at the force of his tail snapping against the floor. He was frustrated about the news of Majin Buu being defeated by Goku. You tried to focus on something else. Didn’t want to listen.
But then he GLOWED. Radiated a light from himself. As if he were powering up. Speaking of how strong he’d be if he actually TRAINED. Before settling back down to the ground. The energy faded. It was still present. You could feel it swirling around you. It just wasn’t VISIBLE anymore.
“Hmmmmm…… I suppose I’ll need a sparring partner.” These words from him made you look up, startled. You immediately wished you hadn’t. He was looking right at you.
You immediately dropped your gaze. Then cursed yourself. Such an action was a blatant show of weakness and you knew it. And he knew that you knew it.
“You there. What is your power level?”
“I…. Um…..” You face burned as your mouth went so dry that your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth like a lump of dry leather.
“Did I stutter? Or are all of your soldiers this incompetent, Commander?” another thwap from his tail. Another involuntary jerk from your body. Sorbet's spluttering was covered by your shaky response.
“22 thousand…… Sir……. My Lord.” Suddenly the power level you had been so proud of seemed meaningless and foolish. Like a grain of sand on the shores of his unimaginable might.
He approached you then. You didn’t know where you found the will to lift your gaze. It settled upon his dark lips. You simply couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.
Frieza slowly lowered his head. Only slightly. And twisted it the most minute degree. You couldn’t move without being obvious, and your inaction brought your gaze into direct contact with his. The outer rim of your vision became hazy. Those red irises, that porcelain looking face, was the only thing in focus. Your abdomen clenched and quivered in rodent terror.
The outer corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as a wide smile broke his face. A beautiful smile, really. But over exaggerated in a way that was so unnatural that, combined with the cold calculating emotionless assessment of his gaze, made it more frightening than even his earlier display of callousness.
“That’s passable, soldier. Exemplary. Truly. A more than acceptable power level. And since you were at least intelligent enough to avoid a hapless death, I’d say that makes you worthy enough to have the honor of assisting me unlock my own power. Wouldn’t you agree?” His tone was mocking. A contrast to the jovial nature of the words.
And as his smile faded into ruthless hunger, you were suddenly glad you’d relieved yourself directly before you’d entered this chamber earlier.
“Y-Yes, my Lord.”
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ask-drunk-wheeljack · 5 years
Text
I have some nasties under the read more for y’all.  I wanted to make a NSFW about section for anyone who is interested in NSFW RP and would like to know more about my boy.  Enjoy!
He is horny.  No ifs, whens, or buts.  It’s his state of being and the intensity fluctuates, but he’s always low grade horny and ready to go.  If he’s not, you prolly need to ask him if he’s ok and give him a cube of high grade to drown his sorrows in.
He’s a switch but will only bottom if he trusts you.  No spikes anywhere near his valve unless he trusts you completely.  You may ride his spike if you really, really want him to bottom and he’s feeling it, but you are lucky if he agrees.
He had his spike and valve modded millennia ago when he was young.  It will probably be the most beautiful spike you ever see.  It’s equipped with green and red bio lights (which glow more brightly the more turned on he is), as well as overall being very shiny.  He’s never had a bad thing said about it
That spike is also HUGE.  It’s always been that way, even before he modded it.  He mostly boasts girth, but he doesn’t lack on length either, so rest assured that your ceiling node will definitely be stimulated.  Even if you’ve fragged a lot, taking him can be a challenge.  If you’ve never done it?  Be prepared to stretch quite a bit beforehand.
His valve has matching bio lights to his spike, and his nodes glow softly in varying shades of red or green.
When he got modded, he also had some of his sensors adjusted to be more sensitive.  He got hornier and had harder overloads after that.
Underneath all the plating around his array is very, very sensitive, and a good use of a small vibrator or a talented glossa will have him fainting.
Anywhere is a good place to interface, in his processor.  He’ll sneak around the corner at base for a quickie, not worry about closing the door if he’s fairly certain no one is coming that way for a while, and stop for some fun times while on not-dangerous missions.  The higher the chances of being caught, the more he enjoys it.
And if you get caught?  He’ll moan obnoxiously to absolutely scar whoever walked in on him.
He is constantly building new toys to play and experiment with.  Don’t knock it till you try it.  Some things he builds are wild.
He’s a freak in the berth: he loves bondage, roleplay, dom/sub play, pet play... if it exists he’s probably tried it.  Whether or not he repeats it is how to tell how into it he is.  
Don’t call him “daddy” though.  That’s SG Wheeljack’s thing.
Do call him sir.  He gets off on it. That and master.
His favorite is tying his partner up and making them watch him touch himself, then edging them until they overload, purring soft things to them.  Or just flat out bending them over and fragging them senseless.
If he trusts you, he absolutely gets off so hard when you tie him up.  He loves it.
He’s extremely into being sucked off and eaten out.  Oral is one of his favorite ways to receive when it comes to interfacing.
He loves to come up behind his partner at base and very softly purr dirty things to them to get them all flustered.  No one else will know what he said until they see your faceplates flushed.
Don’t put it past him to occasionally make slightly lewd comments and jokes though.
Private comm messages of his spike are a must.  He can’t keep it to himself if you’re together or in an arrangement of some sort.  Basically if you’re fragging, you will never be able to get away from his spike (unless you truly do not like it, of course)
When he makes love with his partner (which is very, very rare unless he is in a relationship), he makes it.  He can be such a slow, passionate lover when he wants to be. All you have to do is ask.
If you’re in a relationship with him, expect him to make love to you for hours and give you as many soft overloads as you can take.  He’ll overload deep inside you and cuddle you afterwards, still inside you.
He is very gentle if his partner is interfacing for the first time.  He softly eases into it and asks them to tell him how they’re feeling and when they think they’re ready for him to speed up.
But if you ask for it rough from him, you will not be walking for a bit.  Just fair warning.
He loves to fill his partner up with transfluid, but is just as into overloading all over them.  He’s a nasty boy.
He is loud during interfacing, but mostly keeps it to groans, growls, moans, and whimpers.  He usually overloads loudly, but if he does hard enough he will be almost silent.
His aftercare is the best.  If you’re just frag partners, he’ll help you clean up and rest for a bit before you leave, and during that time he’ll tell you all about how much he enjoyed fragging you.  Might even bring you a snack or let you stay over if it got really wild and you can’t leave.  Overall he wants you to generally be ok and satisfied.  If you’re in a relationship, he will clean you up while gushing praises about your performance and appearance, offer a warm bath together, cuddle, stroke your helm and profess his love for you, softly kiss your face, massage you.... Basically he wants you to know how lucky he feels to be with you.
Literally one of the best boys to frag.  Servos down.
SG! Wheeljack (CW- dubcon/noncon mentions):
Don’t frag him.  Just don’t.
If you do decide to be with him... you’d best hope you come out alive. If you’re lucky he’ll leave you alive and be soft enough that you’ll come back for more.
He’ll start slow and sweet, but listen to him as he talks.  He will whisper things like “you’ll almost think I care”; “so good for me, I might not make you scream this time”; “your sweet little valve is taking my spike so good... what if I pushed a false spike in there too?”
He does not care.  If you’re in the berth, you’re his and there for him alone.
He often will have his partners frag Ratchet, while he gets himself off.  Don’t let him; Ratchet is meaner than him.
The kinkiest boy.  he’s far more likely to let you live if you too are kinky and are good for him.  Tying up his partner is a must.  Whipping/spanking too.  Don’t ask him not to do anything; that’s how you guarantee he’ll do it.
If you think about turning him down, he’ll grow soft and warm and assure you that he’ll take care of you.  You’ll even get several soft frags from him.  once you’re sure he’ll take care of you, he’ll slowly ease back up to what he wants.  He has incredible patience.
call him either master or daddy.  nothing else unless you want to be punished.
e-stim is something he enjoys giving.  he’ll use a shock stick on you until you’re crying, and even a little more after that.
He can cum from watching his partner/victim crying out for mercy; you’ll hear his transfluid splatter onto either you or wherever while he’s edging, teasing, and hurting you.
Will not let anyone fuck his valve.  Ratchet has a habit of holding him down and shoving things up his valve that should never be in it, and thus it’s a show of submission.  He will never submit to anyone other than Ratchet, and even Ratchet has to try very, very hard to break him. 
When he has you eat him out, you’ll see there are numerous tears, cuts, and scars on his valve.
If you ask him about them, he’ll comm Ratchet to use him in front of you, while you’re chained up in his torture room with a vibrator on your node and an overload inhibitor attached to you.
speaking of the overload inhibitor, it’s his favorite thing to use on partners. He’ll tease until you’re burying your face in his plating and crying for him to take it off, and even then he’ll gently purr something like “Just a little more baby.  Just do a little more for daddy.”
he doesn’t do relationships outside of his conjunx.  you will never be seen as a partner.  just a toy for his playing.
Once again.  do. not. fuck, him.  he’s fucking dangerous.
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