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techhasmjolnir · 3 months

Text

Dealer's Choice

Plot: You and the guys are enjoying some downtime in between missions, and one night you all decide to kill some time by playing a game. Things quickly take a bawdy turn.

Author's Notes:

Many thanks to @zoeykallus and her wonderful “Truth or Dare” story as the inspiration for me to finally craft a poly Batch tale.

Unlike my other works, there's a general description of the reader as someone that's into body modifications (piercings and tattoos). Additionally, assume the reader has a contraceptive implant. No other description of the reader is implied, nor should it be inferred. This story also assumes that the interest is there between the reader and the boys, but they're not yet in a relationship.

Sit back and set aside some time to read this one, for it comes in with a word count of 14,009.

Important Notes:

This content is strictly for audiences 18+. The roles in this story assume female readers and all members of the Bad Batch. Concepts introduced include: creampie, cum eating, cum swapping, dirty talk, female ejaculation, M & F masturbation, M & F oral (giving & receiving), PiV, toys

A collective sigh of relief comes from you and the men you've spent the past year working with, the specialist troopers of Clone Force 99. After bouncing endlessly between missions, the word is finally given that all of you are to take a standard Galactic month off for much-needed R & R, and to spend time overhauling the Marauder. You look forward to going home to your countryside villa on Naboo, and extend the offer for the guys to stay with you instead of spending their nights on the ship.

“This is some place you've got here, Y/N,” Wrecker says, his head swiveling around to look at the large vestibule into which everyone is gathered.

“This is nothing,” you reply, groaning as you let your heavy backpack slide off your shoulders. “You should see some of the villas out in Lake Country. This place? It's modest, by Naboo standards. I did the best I could hoarding credits away for years during my time as a bounty hunter in order to be able to afford it.”

“Bounty hunter? I suppose that explains how you ended up with us,” Tech chimes in as he pushes his lenses back in place. “Mercenary work is a natural extension of bounty hunting, in terms of a general skill set.”

“You're not wrong about that, Tech. I may not have enhanced tracking abilities like Hunter, but I more than make up for it elsewhere. All right, since all of you are going to be crashing here for the next month, you're more than welcome to occupy any of the spare bedrooms on the second or third floors. It looks like the housekeeper was here just recently, so everything should be cleaned and in full working order. I don't know about the rest of you, but I've been dying for a real shower ever since we were holed up in that dump on Tatooine!”

“Don't remind me,” Crosshair remarks. “I think I still have the stench of bantha on me.”

“I thought it was obvious it was their breeding season,” Tech slyly adds, never missing the opportunity to get digs in on Crosshair whenever possible.

“Enough, you two,” Hunter interrupts. “Grab your gear and head upstairs. Y/N's been gracious enough to let us stay here instead of being miserable in the Marauder every night, so let's at least try and act somewhat civil.”

You let out a cackle and painstakingly re-shoulder your backpack. “All right, you guys. Go upstairs and get settled. How about we reconvene in a few hours for something to eat, and maybe start unwinding with a game or two?” You start walking off to your bedroom, stopping to turn around when you hear Echo.

“Where are you going, Y/N?”

“Oh, my quarters are down here. I don't think there's enough room in there for all of us,” you tease.

You disappear down the hall toward your bedroom as the guys start making their way to the second floor, completely out of earshot as Crosshair casually says, “you want to make a bet?”

*****

“All right, guys, the rules are simple. All you have to do is spin the bottle, and whoever it points at is the one who will be asked “truth or dare.” If you pick truth, just answer the question honestly. We're all adults here, so there's no need to be embarrassed about anything. Same goes for dare. The only rule about dares is that you don't have to do them if it violates your personal ethics, or is a violation of whatever you consider to be your hard limits. You can rescind consent at any time and ask for a pass, or change it to truth. I just have a hard time believing you guys have never played this game before...I think almost every culture in this galaxy plays some version!”

“Remember, Y/N, we're from Kamino. “Fun” and “games” are two words that are not in the Kaminoans' language,” Hunter offers. “We did our best to amuse ourselves when we were boys as a means of escape from our harsh reality...but not with anything like this.”

“She doesn't need a trip down your memory lane, Hunter,” Crosshair sighs irritably, shifting his ubiquitous toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Are we doing this, or what?”

You roll your eyes and set an empty wine bottle on the floor. “Since you are my guests, one of you can spin the bottle first. Mmm, Wrecker, you want to do it?”

“Absolutely! Let me at it,” he says cheerily.

“Wrecker, mind your strength,” Tech warns. “We do not need you launching the bottle into the wall, or one of us.”

Wrecker's huge hand closes around the wine bottle and he gives it a deft spin. It slows and comes to a stop, the neck pointing at Crosshair. He chuckles and narrows his good eye as he looks at his brother's seemingly constant sour expression. “Oi, Cross...truth or dare?”

There's an audible crunch as Crosshair snaps the toothpick, hastily plucking the broken pieces out of his mouth. “Do I have to?” he grumbles.

“Do you have to be so disagreeable all the time, Crosshair?” you reply, half jokingly. Quiet laughter from the others ceases when you hold up your hand. “It's a harmless game. Just relax and play along. You might just have fun.”

“All right, fine. Truth,” he says churlishly.

Wrecker's face breaks out into a huge grin, and you have the feeling he's up to something. “Yes or no – do you have a crush on Y/N?”

Crosshair's eyes widen, heat stealing its way up the back of his neck and into his ears. You look around at the others, surprised that Wrecker would lead off with a very revealing question. Hunter is trying not to smile, and Echo and Tech share a knowing glance. You won't be surprised if Crosshair answers yes; it wouldn't be the first time someone admitted they had feelings for you while working closely together. The reactions of the others suggest your prediction is correct.

“Well? Do you?” Wrecker asks again, grinning madly.

Crosshair digs his fingertips into the arms of the chair in which he's sitting, his face slightly reddened. “Yes! Yes, all right? For fuck's sake, Wrecker, did you have to do that?” He turns his head away, not able to look at anyone, especially you.

Uproarious laughter fills the room as everyone finds it hysterical their normally unflappable brother is quite humiliated. The only one not laughing is you, because while you find it fitting that Crosshair is temporarily subdued, you're empathetic. You've always known Crosshair is a very private person, and admitting something like this represents a serious loss of control.

“Guys, please. Crosshair, it's your turn. Spin the bottle,” you say gently.

He sighs softly and turns to look at you, his cheeks tinged red. His dark eyes bore into yours and don't break your gaze as he leans down and forward, speedily grabbing it and setting it in motion. The bottle wobbles for a moment before it stops and points at you. You can hear Tech muttering something to Echo under his breath and for a split second, you have a feeling of apprehension. Crosshair's pride is hurt, and now that means he's unpredictable.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” he sneers, completely evaporating whatever embarrassment he just felt.

Everyone's eyes are on you, keen to see if you'll accept a challenge from him. You look around and grin, chuckling softly. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, boys, but for the first round, I'm going to have to go with truth.”

One look at Crosshair's expression tells you exactly what he plans on doing; he's going to try and retaliate in an effort to fluster you. “Have you ever fantasized about any of us in a sexual way?”

You feel your heart start to race a little and you do your best to stay calm. Heat flows into your cheeks and as your expression softens, a little grin is riddled upon your lips. Ever since you became part of the squad, you've done your best to try and maintain an air of professionalism, but you're only human, and with five handsome men always in close contact with you, you certainly entertained thoughts of what it would be like to be with any one of them.

“Hey, are you in there?” Wrecker asks.

“I'm...thinking,” you reply slowly, the grin becoming a big smile. Finally you end up laughing, rolling your eyes as you speak. “Of course I have. Anyone with eyes would end up fantasizing about a group of incredibly attractive guys like you. There. Are you happy, Crosshair?”

He smirks at you, sitting back in his chair as he taps his cheek idly with his finger. “Not just yet, but give it some time. I think I will be.”

*****

“Are you ever going to accept a dare?” Crosshair complains. “I think you're playing coy on purpose.”

The game has been going on for awhile now, and it's been highly entertaining. The bulk of the racy questions have all been directed at you, and the only reason you've hesitated opting for a dare is because you know the minute you say yes, someone is going to get really creative, which will result in you losing an article of clothing. You're no stranger to being in various states of undress around men out in the field, and the guys are no exception, but you've never been completely naked around them.

“All right, all right! Fine! If you're that keen on it, I'll take a dare. Just make it a good one, Crosshair,” you say, feeling your heart starting to beat a little faster.

Crosshair grins and runs his hand through his hair, pausing briefly before speaking. “I think we've all learned quite a bit of...shall I say...interesting things about you tonight, Kitten.”

“Cross, don't call me that. You know I don't like it,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead. “Where are you going with this?”

“You wanted a good dare? I've been thinking about this all night, and it's something I think we're all going to like,” he says, a disconcerting grin emerging. “As long as you consent, of course.”

It doesn't escape your notice that Hunter flashes him a questioning look, and both Tech and Echo moved forward to the edge of one of the couches they're sitting on, clearly interested as to what could possibly be this good. Wrecker glances over at you, puzzled as to what Crosshair's about to do, and as you look over at him, you shrug. As you look back at Crosshair, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a very hungry look in his eyes.

“I've consented to everything you boys have thrown at me tonight. I can handle whatever you come up with.”

“That's good to know, because you're going to strip down to nothing and stay that way the rest of the night.”

You flash him a look of defiance, momentarily catching him off guard. “Fine by me! I've got nothing to hide, and besides...” You pause and look around at the guys, all of whom have the tiniest of grins on their faces. “The likelihood of all of you not wanting to see me naked is precisely zero.”

Tech clears his throat a little nervously. “I do believe she's got us, there. Statistically speaking...”

“Tech, shut up for a moment, will you?” Crosshair snaps. “Y/N, you accepted the dare, so follow through with it.”

You slowly rise and roll your shoulders as you stretch. Sighing softly, you pull the tie for the lower back of your top, letting the ribbons flutter loosely around your hips. The guys have all gone quiet, watching with you with rapt interest. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back a little as you reach up to loosen the ribbon at your neck, pulling away your top and letting it fall to the floor. You can hear someone's breath hitch in his throat as your chest is on full display. Heavy tattooing spans the area over your breasts and down your sternum, prominent steel rings in your nipples.

You open your eyes and Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker are looking at you completely awestruck. Glancing over your shoulder at Tech and Echo, you wink and flash them a sexy grin, chuckling as you see color beginning to creep into both their faces. “You won't be left out, boys. Just be patient.”

Might as well give them a little show, as long as I'm doing this, you think. Really give them something to get off on, later...

Sliding your thumbs under the waistband of your soft, loose pants, you start to roll your hips in an enticing manner, purposely making eye contact with Crosshair. You slowly begin to slide the material down, the silky shimmer of your black panties coming into view. He stares, completely enamored, shifting uncomfortably in his seat in an effort to disguise the fact he's starting to grow hard. Despite the fact that Tech and Echo are sitting behind you, they're getting as much of a show as the other three, and the moment your muscular ass comes into view, one of them accidentally lets slip a tiny groan. You grin and step out of your pants, casting them aside to join your top.

“Mm, someone's enjoying the view, am I right?” you say, your voice lowering seductively as you turn to look over at Wrecker, who's got his hands in his lap, trying to cover up his growing arousal. “Please, big guy, I'm not stupid. If anything, it's pretty fucking hot.”

You bring a hand to your chest, letting it linger between your breasts, as the other slides down your stomach and lightly grazes your pubic mound. Letting out a content sigh, you hook your index fingers in the band of your panties and begin to lower them almost agonizingly slow, stepping out of them carefully as you drop them with the rest of your clothes. You're careful not to reveal too much of yourself, but you can't help but part your legs just a little so that the ring in the hood of your clit is plainly visible.

“By the Maker...” you hear Tech utter quietly.

You raise your hands above your head and lazily turn yourself around in a full circle so everyone gets a full look at you, coming to a stop in front of Tech and Echo. The two of them can't stop themselves from looking you over head to toe, with Tech's attention turning to your hood piercing. A broad grin crosses your face as you take your index finger and let it rest under his chin, tipping his head up so his golden brown eyes meet yours.

“My eyes are up here, honey,” you laugh. “It's all right. You like what you see. There's no shame in that.” You look at Echo, his normally pale skin now flushed pink with arousal. “I think the same goes for you, too, dear.” You turn around to face Crosshair, a look of smug superiority on your face. “Well? I did it, and I managed to render you speechless. I consider that a rare victory...and I do believe it's my turn to spin the bottle.”

You sit down on the floor, keeping your legs closed and to the side. Giving the bottle a hefty spin, it eventually stops and points to Wrecker. “Truth or dare?” you ask, a little smile on your face. He looks over at you, blinking slowly as he makes up his mind. Heat floods his cheeks as he feels his cock twitch heavily under his hands. “Which one, Wrecker?”

“Truth,” he says hesitantly.

“Hm. If you could have one thing right now, what would it be?”

His mind immediately goes blank trying to think of something plausible, because he's embarrassed to tell you the truth. “A giant bowl of Mantell Mix would hit the spot,” he mumbles.

Crosshair bursts out in derisive laughter. “Wrecker, you're the worst fucking liar. Really? Mantell Mix? You're going to have to do better than that!”

Hunter rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, turning to look at Wrecker. “Just tell her the real truth, vod. The smell of it rolling off you is getting to be a bit much.”

Wrecker groans and closes his eyes. “All right, fine. Honestly? I'd love to have you sitting in my lap with my cock buried in you, while I play with your clit.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, a mixture of amusement and intrigue on your face. “Well...I certainly wasn't expecting to hear that out of you.” The idea of having him splitting you in half with what is probably quite a thick cock is tantalizing. You feel the stone of arousal forming in the pit of your chest, along with a tiny pulse in your clit.

This gets a rise out of the rest of the guys; they're all laughing quietly and Echo gently pokes Wrecker in the arm playfully with his scomp-link.

“Come on, everyone. If Wrecker is brave enough to say that, then I'm betting the rest of you are having some pretty sexually charged thoughts, too,” you gently chide.

Wrecker takes the bottle from you and a brief look of appreciation passes between the two of you. It spins wildly before ultimately pointing to Hunter. “Truth or dare?” he rumbles.

Hunter's dark eyes lock on yours before he speaks. “Truth.”

“I wanna ask you the same thing Y/N just did. What's the one thing you want most right now?”

“I really want Y/N perched between my knees, letting me fuck those perfect tits of hers,” Hunter replies quietly, shifting just a little so you can see the bulge forming under his blacks.

Now it is abundantly clear to you where the rest of the game is headed. The heat building between your legs is growing stronger, wetness beginning to seep from you. The pulsing in your clit becomes constant as the sensitive flesh begins to swell. There's absolutely no hiding from Hunter that you're fully aroused now, and the look he gives you is one of sheer desire. You wonder if the rest of them are all sporting massive erections by now, but you don't dare to move your head to look around to check, lest you give away your intentions.

“I think you like my idea, Y/N, don't you?” Hunter asks with palpable amusement in his voice.

“She's turned on?” Crosshair murmurs, idly scratching his chin with a fingertip.

“Without a doubt, she is,” Hunter replies, giving the bottle a quick spin. It lands back on you, and your heart starts to race again. “Truth or dare, ad'íka?”

Your mouth goes dry and you manage to keep your voice from quivering with apprehension. “Dare.”

“I'm willing to bet that you've got an absolutely gorgeous little cunt. It's a shame you've kept it hidden away from us for so long. Spread your legs so we can all see.”

You feel your cheeks go hot, but not from shame. Hunter's never used language like this with you before and all it's doing is casting more kindling into the roaring inferno of your arousal. More wetness seeps from you as you carefully unfold your legs and rearrange yourself into a position on the floor where everyone can see you from the front. Slowly, you comply, leaning back on a hand to balance yourself as you part your legs. With your other hand, you take your index and middle fingers, spreading them into a V shape as you spread your outer lips, showing the guys the slickness between your cleft.

“You look so fucking tasty, Kitten...” Crosshair rasps as he slowly starts touching himself through his blacks, already soaked through with pre-cum.

Ignoring Crosshair's use of the epithet, you look at the others to see them all nodding in agreement, their eyes all seemingly darkened with lust. Tech leans over to whisper something to Echo, and the two of them chuckle softly, Echo biting his lower lip for a brief moment. You steal a quick glance at them, and like the others, they're concealing prominent bulges under their blacks. Tech looks over at you with a gentle smile on his face.

“If you are willing, Y/N, would you consider letting us all have a taste?”

It takes you a moment to figure out what Tech means by having a taste, and you realize it goes much further than wanting to eat your pussy. You choose your words carefully, making sure there's no room for any misunderstandings that could end in regret. “I know it's been a really long time since any of us have gotten what we want, or need. If we're going to do this, I want you to know that I trust all of you explicitly, and yes...you may all share me. Let's just have fun, and enjoy each other.”

“Then I believe a modification of the way this game is played is necessary,” Tech declares, pushing his lenses back into place. “Instead of asking truth or dare, we will tell Y/N what we would like to do with her, and she can choose to accept or decline. This way, there will be favorable outcomes for us all. Y/N, is this agreeable?”

You smile at him winningly and nod. “Works for me, everyone.” You exhale forcefully and send the bottle spinning. As it stops on Wrecker, you look and see him grinning like he's won the best prize in the galaxy.

“Can we do that thing I said earlier?” he asks a little shyly. “And will you let me have a little taste of your pussy, too?”

“Absolutely, big guy,” you chuckle as you get to your feet and stop in front of him. Even though you're roughly at his eye level when he's sitting, it still feels like he's towering above you. “How do you want to do this?”

“Climb on my lap, sweetie, and let me do the rest. I'll be gentle, I promise.”

As you straddle his massive lap, one of his huge hands rests on your back and the other comes under the back of your leg, suddenly pulling you off your feet so your legs are slung over his shoulders, your pussy so close to his face you can feel the heat of his breath. You let out a yelp and try to figure out where to put your arms so you're comfortable. Balancing your forearms on his thighs as his hands close on top of your knees, you look up at him, catching him wink at you with his good eye. You've watched people eat you out before, but never from this vantage point.

“Just relax, mésh'la. It's all right,” he reassures you.

You let out a surprised, quiet moan as he lightly kisses your clit and then your outer lips. His warm tongue delicately trails its way through your folds, gathering up all your juices as it makes its way up to your now swollen clit. When he closes his lips over it, you groan and let your head fall back, shutting your eyes as he alternates between suckling lightly and flicking the tip of his tongue along the underside of it, and over your piercing. When your legs start twitching involuntarily with each stroke of his tongue, Wrecker lets out a deep, rumbling moan of his own against you, the vibrations tickling every nerve ending.

His cock twitches against your back and you moan his name softly, thinking about what it's going to be like to have him inside you. Wrecker turns his attention from massaging your clit to slipping his tongue through your outer lips all the way to your entrance. His strong tongue probes deeply as he tastes another flow of your juices, and his grip on your knees tightens.

He starts to gently rock his hips up into your back, silently telling you that he's just about ready for the next step. As he pulls his mouth away, one hand comes back under your back to support you as the other brings one of your legs down. Once you're back in an upright position, you climb off his lap, your legs visibly trembling.

“I hope that was all right, Y/N,” Wrecker says. “Been a long time since I've done that with anyone.”

“All right? I think that was more than just a little all right,” you reply breathlessly, feeling like your legs are going to give out.

He laughs and takes your hand, placing it right over his thick, meaty cock, straining to be let out of his blacks. “That's all for you, mésh'la. Why don't you show everyone how beautiful you look when I've got my cock stuffed inside you?” His hands slip under the waist of his pants, easing them down to his ankles. His cock lies long and straight against his stomach, and as your eyes fall upon it, he flexes it for you, a little bit of pre-cum clinging to the tip. “Come sit and keep it warm, Y/N,” Wrecker coaxes.

You turn around and see the wanton expressions on the others' faces as they patiently wait their turns. Wrecker takes his cock in his hand and starts stroking it gently as he waits for you. As you back up and straddle his lap once more, you let out a loud gasp as you feel the head of his cock slip through your outer lips, positioning right at your entrance. Resting your hands on his thighs for balance, you start to carefully ease yourself down on him, exhaling slowly as you feel him start to stretch you out.

Wrecker wraps an arm loosely around you, resting a hand on one of your breasts, gently thumbing your nipple. “Take all the time you need, Y/N. I know this is an awful lot,” he murmurs.

“Y-yeah, it is,” you reply shakily. “You feel incredible, already...”

You lower yourself down onto him, inch by inch, moaning continually as his girth stretches you to what feels like your absolute maximum. Wrecker buries his face in your hair, groaning loudly the farther you sink. As he bottoms out in you, his strong hands slide under your legs and lift you up just a little so that instead of your hands on his thighs, now your feet rest there. He takes you by the ankles and you take a hold of his forearms as he starts to slowly rock up into you.

“How's it feel, Wrecker?” Hunter asks as he strokes his cock idly through his blacks. “Usually women are scared to death of that thing,” he chuckles.

“So tight...hot...wet,” Wrecker groans through his clenched teeth. “Ride me, mésh'la, please...”

You oblige, and start bouncing on his cock, deep lusty moans springing from you with each successive stroke. He starts bucking up into you a little harder, passing over your sweet spot repeatedly, sending white hot bolts of pleasure through your pussy. One hand leaves your ankle and works its way between your legs, where the flat of his thumb falls upon your rosy pink pearl, swirling in tight little circles. Wrecker is notably dexterous, switching with ease from rubbing your clit to flicking his thumb over it, loving how you're responding to his touch.

Riding him faster, you feel yourself getting closer to your peak, unable to combat the fiery combination of Wrecker's cock ravaging your pussy and the determined stroking of his thumb. Your clit buzzes pleasantly, tiny little contractions starting to multiply, and a deep growl rolls out of Wrecker as he now lays into you, feeling his own orgasm on its ascent. His cock begins to tighten even more with each upward stroke, and the electricity in your clit becomes more concentrated.

“Don't stop, Wreck...I'm so fucking close,” you gasp.

“So 'm I, mésh'la...come for me,” he moans.

A few more well-timed strokes of his thumb against your engorged clit is all it takes before he hears your breath hitch in your throat, his name falling from your lips in tiny gasps. The lightning in your clit spreads quickly through your core, sharp cries of unrestrained bliss spilling from your throat as your walls constrict around him. Wrecker's thrusting becomes erratic as his cock swells to maximum within you. He lets go of your other ankle and you lift yourself off, sinking to the floor on your knees with your back to him, chest heaving wildly.

Closing his hand around his cock soaked with your juices, he strokes himself hard. It's only a few moments before he lets out a choked gasp followed by a deep moan as he comes, painting your back with thick, ropy strands of his seed. He sinks back in his seat, covering his face with a hand, panting heavily. Utterly spent and basking in the afterglow of his long overdue orgasm, Wrecker slowly gets his pants back on. He looks down at you, sitting back on your feet, admiring his handiwork as his spend trickles its way down your back.

“Go clean her up, dí'kut,” Crosshair hisses. “She doesn't deserve to be left a mess.”

Wrecker gets up and heads to the kitchen, returning a short while later with a warm, damp towel. He attentively wipes down your entire back, then takes his hand and ruffles your hair affectionately. “Sorry about that, Y/N...I didn't ask if I could do that,” he says apologetically. “Are you okay?”

You get to your feet and reach for his chin, standing on tiptoe as he bows his head. Your lips meet his for a soft, loving kiss. “I'm fine, big guy. Might be walking funny for the next day or so, but...” The entire room erupts into laughter as Wrecker returns to his seat, blushing slightly. You wait for everyone to calm down before picking up the wine bottle. “All right! Who's next?” you say playfully, giving the bottle a spin. This time the bottle comes to a stop in front of Tech and Echo, pointing at neither. “Hm, well, this is a conundrum, indeed,” you muse.

“If I may, Y/N,” Tech interrupts, “there is a perfectly reasonable solution to what you perceive as a problem. Let us both gratify you, thus eliminating your need to choose. Echo, why don't you show Y/N the modifications to your scomp-link that we made? Perhaps we can also show her that new attachment I created. I am most eager to see it in action.”

“I'm not surprised you two have been up to clandestine operations,” you say, rolling your eyes. “But you've piqued my curiosity, and...I very much want to have both of you.”

“Excellent. I will return shortly, Y/N. Echo, help her get more comfortable on the floor; we will need the extra space,” Tech says as he rises from the couch, purposely readjusting himself so you can get a better sense of what he's got hidden under his blacks. “This will be worth your while, cyar'íka...I promise.”

As Tech heads upstairs to gather all the necessary equipment, Echo takes all the pillows off the couch and lays them on the floor. You walk over and sit next to him, his good arm wrapping around you. Slipping your hand down between his legs, you run your fingers gently over his fully primed cock, loving the little moan that escapes from him. His lips seek out yours as he lightly pushes himself into your hand, moaning once more when your tongue collides with his for an impassioned kiss.

“Oh, mésh'la, if you only knew how long I've dreamed of doing something like this with you...” he whispers hotly against your neck, planting a few open mouthed kisses there.

You let out a soft sigh at the touch of his lips, his kisses working their way down your neck to your collarbone. He lowers you just a little so he has easy access to a breast, his tongue gently licking a nipple, sending shivers down your spine. Echo grins as he closes his mouth around it, sucking lightly, relishing the sounds of your moans. You squeeze his cock firmly in return, his eyes tightly shut as he groans deeply.

“You want me to suck your cock, Echo? I can't wait to see what you have for me,” you purr, feeling the material of his blacks dampen under your fingertips.

“I do not think he wants to wait any longer to show you what he has in store for you,” Tech calls from the entrance to the living room. He's carrying a case and a small drawstring pouch with him. “Y/N, if you please, spread your legs for Echo so he can begin.” He pauses, and you see his brow furrow for a moment. “I...know we already have your consent, but I feel it prudent to ask you regardless...” He stops again and you see one of his hands tremble slightly.

Crosshair snickers as you get up and walk over to Tech. “What, now you lose your nerve, Professor Highbrow? She already said you can take her, so what the hell's your problem? Got limp dick syndrome, or something? You should forfeit your turn and let me –”

You whirl around, fury written all over your face as you approach Crosshair, who looks supremely amused with himself. As you stop in front of him, you grab the collar of his blacks and yank him up until he's a hair's breadth away from you, eyes locked on his. His eyes widen in genuine shock; he's never seen you this angry before. Hunter is about to spring into action to pull the two of you apart, but Wrecker puts a hand on his shoulder, curious to see how this is going to play out.

“Crosshair, shut your fucking mouth! I am so sick of you constantly ripping on Tech, trying to tear him down. Is it really necessary to try and destroy your brother's self-esteem?! You dare...in MY house?!,” you seethe. “Just for that, when it's your turn...I've already decided what you're going to do with me...and you'd better fucking follow through!”

You shove Crosshair back into his seat hard, letting go of his shirt. You look at the others, and they're all staring at you in disbelief, especially Tech, who remains rooted to the spot. Walking back over to him, you reach your hand up to gently cup his face, his eyes seeming larger than ever. “Now, what were you going to ask me?” you ask softly.

“Cyar'íka...” he starts, trying to regain composure and find his voice. “I would very much like it if you would orally pleasure me while Echo takes care of you. Would you also let me take you from behind?”

“For you, Tech, anything. You know...you didn't need to ask me for permission, but I'm happy you did. I just want to enjoy both you and Echo in every way possible.”

You retake your seat on the floor next to Echo, with Tech coming to sit beside you, putting the case and the pouch off to the side. “Spread yourself for me, Y/N, and relax. I think that beautiful pearl of yours needs some more loving,” Echo says as he positions himself between your legs. “This might feel a little strange at first. I'll start with this, then switch over to the new attachment.”

Tech leans down and rests a hand on the back of your neck as his lips graze across your cheek and down to your mouth where your lips meet his for a delicate kiss. Echo lightly rests his scomp-link on the hood of your clit, then activates it. You gasp as you feel gentle vibrations emitting from it, and Echo smiles, glancing up at Tech. “I'm glad you suggested we rewire this thing...I think she likes it!”

Echo swirls the scomp-link around your clit attentively, listening to you moan deeply as he touches every part of it. He can see you beginning to swell and grow harder for him with each pass, the sides of your clit especially sensitive. You lift your hips up into him, craving more stimulation and he obliges, upping the level of vibration. With his good hand, he pulls his blacks down enough to free his cock – thick, hard as durasteel, and craving your attention.

“Please, Y/N,” Echo softly moans. “Touch me...let me come for you,” he pleads.

He shifts a little so you can slip your hand down between his legs, taking his cock to slowly stroke it in an underhanded position. Echo sighs in pleasurable relief as your hand glides over the hot, turgid flesh, taking time to swirl your thumb over the head as more pre-cum steadily seeps from him. Tech, not wanting to be left out, takes your unoccupied hand and you look up at him, his eyes glazed over with arousal. He guides you down between his legs, and as your hand covers the conspicuous bulge, you squeeze gently, making him shut his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

“Are you ready for me, cyar'íka?” Tech asks as he takes your hand, kissing your palm as he frees himself from his blacks, revealing the sublime and statuesque curvature of his lengthy cock. “I will let you set the pace,” he reassures you as he lets your hand go, shifting close to your mouth.

Closing your hand around his cock, the tip of your tongue gently trails its way underneath the head, earning you a stifled moan. Slowly, your tongue swirls around its entirety, getting a taste of pre-cum as you slip him into your mouth, letting your tongue glide along his shaft. You expertly corkscrew your hand around him as you find your rhythm, sucking and stroking him with vigor. “If you only knew how many times I imagined doing this with you...” Tech murmurs as he lets his hand rest gently on the back of your head.

The grasp on Echo's cock tightens as you stroke him a little faster, feeling the pulsing in your clit intensify with each pass of the scomp-link. The constant low moaning coming from Echo sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you, and you feel your juices seeping out, dampening the pillow you're sitting on. You moan heavily around Tech's cock, the vibrations rewarding you with a hard flex and the sound of him choking back a deep-seated moan of his own. He rests a hand on your cheek, then pulls his cock out of your mouth, leaving you feeling strangely empty.

“You're too good at this, cyar'íka...I am already getting closer than I would like,” he pants as he sits back down, blinking heavily as he tries to recompose himself.

Echo's hand covers yours as he pulls himself back from your grasp, breathing hard. “I'm close, too, mésh'la...still want to...show you the best part...”

He takes the scomp-link away from your throbbing clit, taking the case lying next to Tech and opens it, revealing an instrument with two distinct curved parts to it – the larger part is considerably longer and thick, the smaller one much shorter and thin. Echo nimbly unscrews the scomp-link and replaces it with this new creation, holding his arm up so the others can see.

“The larger part goes inside you, and the smaller part stays outside and rests on your clit,” he explains once he catches his breath. “Both parts vibrate, and they also have a small range of movement to them, so they can simultaneously work your sweet spot and clit at the same time.”

Tech picks up the small drawstring pouch and opens it, taking out a bottle. “You may want to use this,” he advises, handing it to Echo. “It will make Y/N's entire experience that much more pleasurable.”

Echo applies a few drops of the lube to the attachment, spreading it evenly. He drips a little bit more onto your clit, letting it run down between your outer lips before he takes a finger and traces it around your entrance. As his fingertip makes its way just inside, a content moan rises from you, and Echo smiles. Satisfied you're ready to accept this new toy, he withdraws his finger and smears the residual wetness on his cock. He carefully nudges the head of the large end up against your entrance and eases it fully inside you. As promised, the head of the smaller end is flush with the underside of your clit – a perfect fit.

“I really want to see you come before Tech fucks you, mésh'la, but if it gets to be too much, tell me and I'll stop immediately.”

“Oh, fuck!” you gasp loudly as Echo activates the toy. “This isn't going to take me long!”

Echo keeps the level of vibration on its lowest to get you used to the feeling, the tip of each segment moving in tiny circles, alternating with a gentle upward massaging movement, perfectly mimicking someone's fingers and tongue. Involuntarily, your walls clench around the toy as it teases your sweet spot. You let out a lusty moan as the outer piece flicks gently under your clit, sending waves of fresh heat through your core.

Your eyes close as Tech's brilliant new toy works its magic, biting your lower lip as your hands come to your breasts, cupping them as you gently pull on your piercings. Echo increases the speed just a little more, a sharp cry coming from you as the pressure increases in your cleft and the buzzing in your clit becomes stronger, drawing you close to your peak. Tech smiles proudly, knowing his little invention works perfectly and is driving you wild.

Echo's hand strays between his legs once more to close around his cock, his arousal at a hair-trigger. He finds his rhythm quickly, his eyes locked on yours as he strokes himself hard, bucking his hips as he goes. Your head drops back against the couch cushion, arching your back and suppressing a small scream as Echo increases the intensity a third time. Tech takes one of your hands in his and squeezes it as your other hand remains on a breast, rolling and pinching your nipple.

Your clit becomes the epicenter of searing heat and electricity as the manipulation of your sweet spot triggers your inner walls to contract around the toy. Your legs begin to tremble, toes curling as you're nearing your climax with everyone watching you in fascination, waiting to see you come. Breath catching in your throat, you manage to utter, “So fucking close, Echo...you're going to make me come...”

“That's it, mésh'la, let it all go,” Echo groans as his cock pulses in his hand. “Come for me, Y/N...”

As your orgasm breaks, his name cascades from your lips in a heaving sob, a riptide of pleasure crashing violently through your body. The walls of your pussy constrict forcefully around the toy as you bear down. Rolling your hips madly, you cover your face with your hands as you keep riding the waves of your high. “No more, Echo, pull out...pull out...pull out!” you wail.

Echo shuts the toy off and removes it, a lewd wet sound following in its wake as a spring of your juices ejects all over his hand and cock. “By the Maker, Y/N,” he says, looking down in disbelief. Using the newfound wetness to his advantage, he strokes himself hard, moaning your name. You watch his balls tighten as he starts to come, spilling a considerable amount of his seed all over your stomach and pubic mound. Chest heaving with exertion, he sits back and gets himself tucked back into his blacks.

“It appears the toy did exactly what I designed it to do,” Tech says with a satisfied grin on his face. “You performed flawlessly, Y/N...how do you feel?”

“I'm...not sure I have the words, Tech. It's been a long time since I've come like that,” you admit sheepishly.

Wrecker passes the damp towel to Echo, who lovingly wipes you clean. His parting gift to you is a gentle kiss between your legs just above your clit, then he leans in to plant another kiss at the corner of your mouth as he lightly strokes your hair. “Thank you for everything, mésh'la...that was extraordinary,” he says, his voice laden with adoration. “I can't wait to watch you with Tech...you're in for a real treat,” he chuckles as he returns to your other side. “She's all yours, ner vod...”

Tech smiles and takes your chin in his hand, turning your head and leaning in to kiss you tenderly. You bring your hands up behind his neck, enticing him to leave a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your throat, all the way to your breasts. One of his hands reaches for a breast, closing over it as he traces his finger over your firm nipple, taking hold of your piercing. You let out a breathy moan as his eager tongue snakes out and flicks quickly over the other, holding the ring in his teeth. As Tech begins to gently pull on your piercings, your arousal renews with strong pulsing in your clit and an insistent fluttering deep in your pussy.

“You are hungry for all our attention tonight, aren't you, cyar'íka?” Tech says as he lets go of you, his silken voice low and sultry. “Get on all fours for me, and I'll share something else with you that is in desperate need of attention.”

As your rise to your knees, Tech pulls away the pillow soaked with your juices and replaces it with a larger one, wanting to maximize your comfort. You get into position for him and he reaches out, tracing his fingers down your spine, making you shiver and lift yourself up toward him as his hand reaches your ass. Taking both cheeks in his strong hands, he kneads them firmly, letting his fingers roam down a little until his thumbs are on either side of your outer lips. He gently parts your folds, looking down upon your entrance, moist with fresh wetness.

“Both Wrecker and Echo did an excellent job preparing you for me,” Tech states casually as he draws his index finger between your glistening lips. “Now we've learned that even something simple as playing with your nipples leaves you a soaking...” He slides his finger into you slowly, grinning as you let out a tiny moan. “...wet mess.”

Tech finds your sweet spot easily, teasing it in short strokes with his fingertip. Your eyes close and you let out a quiet sigh, a hand straying down between your legs to gently touch your clit, still partially swollen and sensitive from the last orgasm . Tech feels your pussy gently contract around his finger and he lets out a small groan as his cock stirs heavily. He pulls his finger out of you and slips it into his mouth, sucking it clean and marveling at the delicate balance of sweetness, salt, and acidity.

“Are you ready for me, Y/N? Will you come as violently for me as you did for Echo?”

You push your ass back toward him and he meets you halfway, letting you rub yourself along the front of his blacks, dampening them with your juices. Tech slides his pants past his knees, guiding his cock through your folds and over your clit, holding back a moan as your hand passes along the underside, your fingertips deftly caressing the tip, feeling a small amount of pre-cum emerge. He withdraws and then aligns himself with your entrance, taking your hips in his hands as he slowly pushes his way in. He's nearly as thick as Wrecker, and as he sinks himself deep into your succulent heat, Tech lets out the moan he's been trying to suppress.

“Fuck me, Tech,” you mewl, swirling your hips around him once he's fully seated within you. “You feel so fucking good...”

Tech feels pleasant heat rush to his face from your praise and he smiles, proud of himself for being able to please you like this. Now he starts to slowly rock his hips fore and aft, watching his cock effortlessly slip in and out of you, listening to your fervid cries growing steadily louder. You reach down to start rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, fingertips dancing lightly over it, making your legs twitch uncontrollably again. A shuddering groan comes from Tech as he feels your walls quiver around him, feeling like tiny kisses all along his cock.

You softly moan as Tech leans over you, propping himself up on one hand as the other comes up from underneath to cup one of your breasts. His long fingers easily manipulate your nipple and piercing, gently rolling and pulling the hardened flesh and its adornment. You feel another strong pulse in your clit and Tech groans quietly in your ear as the contraction that follows makes your walls squeeze against him tightly.

“Cyar'íka, move with me,” he whispers as he begins to sit up, pulling you with him. “Let me show you what you and I have done together in my dreams.”

As the two of you rise, Tech carefully shifts himself back onto his feet, not wanting to slip out of you. One of his arms is slung loosely around your hips with the other around your torso, his hand resting between your breasts. Resting on your knees, you straddle his lap with your hands on his thighs as he pulls you flush against him, the hand on your chest sliding up to gently close around your throat. His mouth comes to your ear and plants a tiny kiss, followed by more along your jaw. A deep moan emanates from your parted lips as Tech's other hand comes down between your legs, his graceful fingers brushing over your hot, swollen clit.

“I always wondered what it would feel like to fuck you while you sit in my lap,” Tech mumbles into your hair as he starts to buck his hips up into you once more. “Granted, I wanted to do this with you while in the cockpit of the Marauder...but this will suffice.”

You start to ride him, timing your descent perfectly with each hard upward thrust. Tech lets go of your throat and lets his hand gravitate down to your chest, cupping a breast as he begins to play with your nipple and piercing again. His fingers skillfully swirl over your clit at the same time, stoking the fires of arousal once more. Tech lets out a muffled moan against your neck as his cock is greeted with renewed wetness.

Your hands dig into his thighs as you bounce on his cock a little faster, the fingers working your clit keeping time. Luscious, tingling heat pools in that tiny singularity, begging for release. Tech turns his attention to your neck, hungrily nibbling and kissing the soft flesh, sending shivers down your spine. You gyrate your hips when he's nestled fully in you and he moans unabashedly as his cock begins to swell.

“That's the way, cyar'íka...such a good girl, letting us fuck you,” Tech says, his voice pouring into your ear like liquid silk.

He lets go of your breast and trails his fingertips up your chest before wrapping his hand lightly around your throat once more, holding your head steady as his hips snap up into you briskly. As you match his pace, you feel him getting tighter as he stretches your insides to their limit. He rubs your clit in tight circles, your moaning constant as he starts to shorten his thrusts, the head of his cock perfectly massaging your sweet spot. Tech squeezes the sides of your neck slowly and you shut your eyes as your breath hitches in your throat, every nerve ending in your clit ready for the ultimate liberation.

“So close, Tech...make me come,” you gasp.

“I thought you'd never ask,” Tech replies flippantly.

He buries himself all the way in you and holds still, his fingers flicking over your clit as you near your peak. His thighs tremble against you as he feels your pussy clutching his cock like a vise, requiring every ounce of his restraint to not release before you do. Tech takes your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the flesh of your hood over it as he strokes firmly, drawing out a few last gasps from you.

As he loosens his grip on your throat, an intense cry bursts from you as the floodgates open and he tips you over the edge, your nails digging into his thighs as the nectar of euphoria flows through you. Writhing your hips madly, Tech wraps his arm around your waist to hold you steady, unable to hold himself back any longer. He swiftly withdraws, then cants his hips up into you, relishing at the obscene wet sounds his cock is making as he drives himself in deeply. Mouth at your ear, Tech's low moaning sends shivers down your spine, knowing he's just about to come.

“May I...” he grunts, and you feel his cock swell and stiffen.

You bring a hand up around the back of his neck and turn your head towards his, pulling him down for an ardent kiss. “Do it,” you command. “Be my good boy and fill my pussy...”

Tech hides his face in your hair as he thrusts hard for a final time, letting his breath out forcefully as his orgasm overtakes him, moaning your name repeatedly. His cock flexes heavily in your cleft, and you whimper as you feel the sudden heat of his seed coating your walls. At long last, Tech releases you. Falling forward onto your hands, he backs out of you, juices steadily dripping between your legs onto the pillow underneath.

“Y/N, are you all right?” Echo asks, reaching out to take you by the shoulder and help you upright.

“Better than fine,” you reply breathlessly as you shift around to face the others. “Here's a little something extra for you, boys. Consider it an encore...”

You part your legs enough so they can clearly see between them, your outer lips swollen and spread wide. Biting your lip as you bear down, everyone watches transfixed as Tech's thick, creamy load slips out of you. You look over at Tech, now sitting back on the couch as he recovers from his high. Unsteadily, you get to your feet and go to him, taking his chin in your hand as you look into his beautiful golden brown eyes. He reaches up to touch your cheek with his finger, a relieved smile on his face.

“That was...extraordinary, cyar'íka. Thank you for letting me –”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss. “No need to thank me, Tech. If anything, I should be thanking you.” You pause for a moment, a grin creeping across your face. “However, I think you and I need to have a chat about an escapade in the Marauder's cockpit sometime...”

Wrecker snorts and bursts out laughing, causing Tech to immediately start blushing. Everyone else joins in as you sigh and shake your head, reaching for the towel to wipe yourself down. You look around for the wine bottle, stopping as your eyes meet Hunter's. He's sitting calmly in his seat, watching your eyes as they travel down toward his groin. As if he's read your mind, he spreads his legs apart for you a little, resting his hand on the mouthwatering bulge under his blacks.

“There's no need, ad'íka. It's my turn,” he says, pulling the waist of his blacks down just a little so the head of his cock is visible. “I'm serious about wanting to have those exquisite tits of yours squeezed around my cock. But first, be a love and let me have your mouth for awhile. Seems to me your pussy needs a break,” he chuckles.

Hunter swings his legs up onto the generous couch on which he's sitting, stretching out as he lies down, sliding a thumb under the waistband of his blacks. Looking over at you, he smiles and starts stroking himself through the material, closing his eyes as he starts thinking about sliding his cock into your mouth, watching your tongue swirl around the tip. You make your way over to him, wedging yourself between his muscular thighs. Curling your hands into his pants, you start sliding them down his hips, your lips curled into a seductive grin.

“Show me what you've got for me, Hunter,” you say as you get his blacks down to his thighs, holding back a moan as his lengthy cock is unveiled, thick with a gentle upward curve. Once you get his blacks off, you lay your palms on his thighs, running them up toward his groin as you lean forward to gently kiss his tip. “Just as beautiful as your brothers,” you murmur.

Starting at the base, your tongue draws its way up his shaft, tenderly swirling along the underside of the head. Hunter moans softly and rests a hand on the back of your head as he spreads his legs wider for you, resting one foot on the floor. Taking his cock in one hand, you bring him to your lips, kissing the tip once more before you guide him into your mouth, sucking lightly on the head. You ease him farther into your mouth as your free hand cups his balls, palming the firm, swollen orbs carefully.

You pull him out of your mouth with a slight pop, licking your lips. “Mm, look how full you are, honey. I bet you want to blow a huge load all over my tits, don't you?” Now you squeeze his balls just a little, a deep groan rolling out of him. “Gotta say, Hunter, I figured you would have wanted my pussy, but your creativity is fucking hot...”

Sliding him back into your mouth, your tongue flattens out along the underside, letting you inch him in slowly. Your eyes meet his, pupils fully dilated and shining brightly with fascination and arousal as he watches his cock disappear around your lips. Taking in as much of him as you can, one hand closes around him again to start stroking, twisting its way along as you hollow out your cheeks, sucking on him hard.

Hunter groans and lifts his hips up into you as you pull away, a long strand of saliva connecting your tongue to the tip. You close your index finger and thumb firmly around his cock, swirling up and over him, taking time to massage the head as your tongue lavishes attention upon his length, flicking over the small slit as a bead of pre-cum oozes its way out. Back into the hot confines of your mouth he goes, this time picking up the pace to stroke him a little faster while you give most of your attention to the heated, swollen flesh.

“Fuck,” he moans softly. “I thought you'd never do this for me, Y/N...”

One of his hands comes to rest on the back of your head once more, and now he begins to gently buck his hips as you let him fuck your mouth, pushing in deeper as you close your hand fully around him. Your other hand returns to give his balls attention, rolling and squeezing them while your index finger strokes the fine, soft flesh of his perineum, evoking a gasp and a choked breath from Hunter.

You can feel his leg starting to tremble against you a little as you draw him closer to his climax, and you chuckle with him in your mouth. The vibrations travel along his shaft, causing him to flex in your hand, and when the head tightens and swells, you exhale sharply through your nose, pulling him out. You're slavering all over his cock, curling the tip of your tongue as you withdraw, showing Hunter just exactly how much you love giving sloppy blowjobs.

You shift yourself back a little, placing a hand on Hunter's thigh as your head dips down, your tongue lovingly passing over his balls. Your other hand comes to rest on his other thigh, and reflexively, Hunter encircles his fingers around yours, while his other hand reaches to take a hold of your hair. Slowly your lips close around one of his balls, sucking a little to pull it into your mouth. Hunter closes his eyes and grits his teeth as he tries to restrain a deep-seated moan of pleasure.

He's so full that you almost can't fit it in your mouth, but as you engulf him completely, you suck on him tenderly, filled with anticipation over how much he's going to come for you. Hunter lets go of your hand and takes his cock, still wet with your saliva. He starts stroking himself, watching you intently as you let him go with a wet smack of your lips. As you take his other testicle in, he comes undone, moaning deeply as you sensually tease him. You can feel him beginning to tighten up in your mouth, and you release him, sitting back on your feet, flashing a sassy grin as you wipe your lips with a finger.

Hunter pulls himself up and you hear a low growl building as he suddenly reaches for your shoulder, pushing you down onto your back. Quickly, he climbs on top of you, his cock pulsating as he gets himself into position. Your heart races with excitement over his powerful show of dominance, but also with curiosity over how it will feel to have him gliding between your breasts. Hunter takes a breast in each hand, massaging them softly as he takes in this new vantage point.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are, Y/N? You're like something out of a wet dream,” he confesses as his thumbs trace over your nipples, mesmerized by the gleaming steel of your piercings. He looks up and over at Tech, holding out his hand. “Gonna need that lube, vod. Throw it over here.”

Tech pitches the small bottle of lube across to Hunter, who catches it easily. He flicks open the cap and drizzles the lube generously onto your sternum. You let him rub the lube between and all over your breasts, groaning happily as he massages your heated flesh. As he finishes, he takes his cock by the base, rapping it firmly on your chest, a wicked grin on his face. You start pushing your breasts together until they're just touching him, a little unsure of how close you should be.

“Always wondered what this would feel like,” he murmurs as he starts to rock his hips slowly, pushing his cock between the cleft, letting out a soft sigh as he easily glides through.

Hunter looks down at you, seeing the enthrallment on your face as he pushes his cock closer to your mouth. Briefly, he pulls himself out and holds himself within reach of your mouth, easing just the tip in a little as you suck on him gently. Back between your breasts he goes, and you push them much closer together this time to create more friction. He teases you, the head of his cock coming close to your chin and mouth, and you let your tongue hang out a little, trying to lick him.

“Tech's right, ad'íka...you're starving tonight...you want me to feed you?” he questions, voice smoky with passion.

“Give me everything you've got, Hunter,” you reply.

Hunter smiles and licks his lips as he continues driving his cock between your breasts, this time adjusting himself so he can push his way into your mouth easily. You take him in and he watches as your gaze meets his, an incredibly arousing sight to see you suck his cock so easily. His heart goes into overdrive as he feels you press yourself tightly around him, and he wonders if your pussy feels anywhere near as good as this.

Faster he begins to thrust, and low moaning progressively becomes heavy as Hunter feels himself rapidly approaching his edge. Your eyes are locked on his and again, you open your mouth to show him your eager tongue. Seeing you so willing and trusting turns him on even more, and he holds his breath when his balls begin to tighten, knowing his orgasm is imminent. You can see his thighs beginning to shake slightly as he comes close and you push your breasts against him as far as they'll go.

“M-mésh'la, hold still, I'm gonna come,” he gasps, surging forward a few more times before you feel his cock flex, watching as he starts to unload.

Hunter moans loudly as thick streams of his hot seed launch all over your chest, neck, and chin before he pulls his cock from between your breasts and strokes it a few more times, sending the rest into your mouth. You swallow every last bit, your tongue slightly tingling as you taste the salty, slightly bitter profile of his spend, momentarily grateful he chose not to come solely in your mouth. He carefully climbs off you and reaches for his pants, tugging them back on before he leans down and kisses you affectionately.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says quietly, moving your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “That was incredible...I would love to do that with you again sometime.”

You take his face between your hands, bringing your lips to his for a few velvety kisses. “Any time, Hunter...never done anything like that before, but it's getting added to the “must do” list,” you laugh.

Hunter gives you one last kiss before excusing himself to the kitchen to get another clean towel. You're sitting propped up on your elbows when he returns, and you close your eyes, letting your head loll back as he cleans you up. The warm dampness of the towel and Hunter's tender ministrations leave you feeling relaxed and perfectly sated. You inhale deeply, collecting your thoughts before you finally finish this game and set Crosshair in his place.

Without opening your eyes, your voice takes on a startling edge. “Crosshair, be my good boy...come over here and kneel before me. Now.”

The chatter among the others stops and Hunter retakes his seat on the couch, his attention fixed on Crosshair, who's looking across the room at you. As you bring your head back up, your eyes slowly open and you turn to look at him, his normally bitter expression erased and replaced by one of uncertainty, his cheeks red with uncharacteristic embarrassment. He's rattled by the glacial look you're giving him, and he swallows hard, looking at his brothers one by one, especially Tech.

“I strongly suggest you comply, Crosshair. It would be unwise to arouse cyar'íka's anger once more,” Tech says with a vein of mirth in his voice, a sly grin on his face.

As you sit up, you move to the edge of the couch, spreading your legs so Crosshair can get a good look at what he's been coveting all night long. The roseate bloom of your pussy lay before him, his longing for you coming to its summit as he sees your glistening folds, his cock throbbing insistently. Resting a hand daintily upon your knee, you reach out and beckon to him, smiling sweetly. But Crosshair is no fool; he sees through your façade, knowing you're up to something.

He gets up out of his chair haltingly and does as he's told, stopping before you and sinking to the floor on his knees. You can see his breathing becoming shallower, his dark eyes shining brightly with deep yearning. You bring a hand under his chin and lift his head up as you lean in, your other hand running through his silver hair. Your lips brush softly over his, and he doesn't bother trying to hold back a small moan. Now your mouth seeks his, tongues sparring as you converge for a fiery kiss.

“That's my boy...” you whisper heatedly. “You're going to learn a little humility and accept the consequences of your earlier transgression...starting by licking my pussy until every trace of Tech is gone.”

A brief look of disgust flashes across his face at your choice of words, but the desire to please you and be praised for it is overwhelming. As you look down at him, your expression softens as his hands make their way up your legs slowly. Crosshair never takes his eyes off yours, his long fingers caressing your silky skin as they rise over your knees and over your inner thighs. The corner of his mouth turns upward into a tiny crooked grin, knowing you're enjoying this.

Crosshair gives pause as he reaches your pubic mound, suddenly not wanting to proceed lest you think of something else to deflate his ego. His eyes search yours pleadingly, looking for the sign that he should continue. He wants nothing more than to touch you, let his tongue work its magic on the tantalizing swell of your pearl, and draw you to another orgasm. Hesitantly, his fingertips stroke the soft flesh of your outer lips, and when you don't stop him, his thumb rests on your piercing before he retracts the hood of your clit.

You let out a pleasurable sigh as you watch him close his eyes and lean in, his mouth closing over your clit. He wastes no time in showing you how skilled he is, sucking firmly while his tongue teases and massages the hypersensitive underside. His index finger makes its way to your slick entrance and slides in with no resistance. It's quickly followed by the middle, and you let out a gasp as he carefully threads in his ring finger, your pussy feeling like it's about to split in two.

Crosshair opens his eyes and looks up at you for signs of discomfort, but sees none. He starts moving his fingers in and out, the wet sounds coming from you are almost profane. He knows exactly where to touch you, curling his fingertips upward to manipulate your sweet spot as he pulls his mouth away, letting his tongue flick expertly across your clit. The divine heat and pulsation start you anew on the path to your climax, and he feels your walls starting to close around him.

“I think someone's hungrier than I am tonight, boys!” you exclaim, exhaling sharply as your needling leads Crosshair to pull out his fingers, coated with both your juices and the remnants of Tech's. “You're desperate, Crosshair. Lick them clean,” you order.

Jeering laughter erupts from Wrecker, clearly enjoying watching his brother being put in his place. “She's got you there, eh, Cross?! About time someone taught you a lesson!”

Crosshair's eyes narrow as heat spreads like wildfire through his face, blushing furiously. He sticks his index finger in his mouth, sucking it clean, the commingling of salt and bitter acidity not as vile as he expected. He licks his middle and ring fingers, watching your face for the sign of approval he aches for. You smile and point down at your pussy, slick with fresh arousal. Choking on a groan, his hands fly to your thighs and grip hard as he buries his head between your legs once more.

He licks a wide path with the flat of his tongue through your slit, gathering up everything he can. You rest your hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to do it again. Moaning softly against your folds, he makes another pass before his lips close around your clit and piercing once more. This time he suckles gently, feeling his cock twitch hard underneath his blacks as you utter his name. He brings a hand down between his legs and feels how damp the material is, badly wanting to sink his cock into you in any way possible.

Crosshair gives your clit a loving kiss and looks to you once more. “Was...that all right?” he asks. You don't answer right away, instead moving in to taste yourself on him, licking at the corner of his mouth before lightly kissing his forehead. “C-cyaré, please...are you satisfied?” he implores.

His words from earlier in the night come back to haunt him as you chuckle softly. “Not just yet...but give it some time. On your feet, Crosshair...show me that cock of yours and let me make fantasy a reality.”

He rests his hands on your knees as he slowly rises, his lithe, muscular body seeming taller than ever as he looks down at you. Your eyes lock on his as your hands slide their way up his thighs, and you feel him tremble slightly in anticipation. You palm his cock through the fabric, feeling how hot and impatient he is as you lean forward, strategically planting ethereal kisses as your hands take the waistband of his blacks and ease them down. The graceful curve of his impressively thick length is unveiled, the head glossy with pre-cum.

Crosshair licks his lips as he watches you take him by the base, your tongue emerging to lightly trace its way over his frenulum before it swirls over the tip, drawing in his wetness. His breath catches in his throat as you take him in your mouth, his level of touch starvation evident as you feel him beginning to swell a little from the most basic attention you're giving him. You suck on him gently for a few moments before withdrawing, and he brings a hand to your face, cupping it tenderly. Closing your eyes, your hand comes up over his, letting out a sigh of contentment.

“Cyaré, tell me how to please you,” he begs, inwardly cursing himself for feeling so needy and vulnerable.

You let go of his hand and slip it between his legs, taking him by the balls and squeezing firmly. Crosshair groans and bites his lip, moving his hand to the back of your head as your other hand grasps his cock. “Begging is beneath you, Crosshair,” you coolly reply. “Here's the deal. You're going to blow your load on my face, and then you're going to lick it up.”

Hunter raises an eyebrow in surprise as he looks over at you, and you hear Echo mutter, “oh, Maker,” as Tech covers his face with his hand, desperately trying not to laugh. You look over at Wrecker and he's sitting there silent, mouth agape and eyes wide. Crosshair feels the heat of embarrassment crawling its way up his neck and into his ears and face. He didn't expect this from you, and now he finally regrets his egregious behavior.

“Just one more thing, love...don't swallow!”

With that, you release the grip on his balls, rolling them in your palm as the hand on his cock moves it way up his length, closing over the tip to gently massage it. Crosshair moans softly and his fingers wind around your hair as your lips close around him, slowly easing him in. Your hand slides up his shaft, joining your mouth as you move your head to and fro, sucking tenaciously. He can't tear his eyes away from you as more of his cock disappears, chills running down his spine as you moan deeply around him. Cautiously, he starts to thrust into your mouth, curious to see how much of him you can take.

You accommodate him easily at first, your hand controlling the depth of his progress, but he soon starts to push in more aggressively. Tears prick the corner of your eyes unbidden as he moves in too deeply, triggering your gag reflex. You pull back, salivating wildly all over the head of his cock and for a split second, you catch just a hint of smug satisfaction on his face. Squeezing his balls roughly in retaliation, he lets out a hiss as your hand picks up the extra wetness and grips around him tightly, stroking him hard. Crosshair's thighs tense up, his arousal mounting exponentially as he starts bucking his hips toward you, wishing it was your pussy he was fucking instead of your hand.

“That's the way, baby,” you croon gently. “Such a good, obedient boy, wanting to come hard all over his cyaré's face...”

Crosshair moans heatedly at your words, especially the Mando'a term of endearment. He pumps his cock through your skilled hand, groaning deeply as his tip pushes through the tight ring of your fingers. Visions of having you all to himself and feeling how tight your pussy is for him race through his mind, and it's not long before his other hand joins yours, grasping his cock as his thrusting intensifies. You slowly ease your hand off him until he's fully in control, stroking himself vigorously as he chases his climax.

Now with both hands free, you turn your attention to his balls, which are already starting to tighten. You take one in each hand, rolling your thumbs over them, massaging lightly as Crosshair's breathing becomes rapid and shallow. As you squeeze his balls again, this time with care, his free hand gravitates to the top of your head to hold you steady. A low groan builds deeply in his chest as he feels himself drawing close to his orgasm, cock swelling firmly in his hand. He closes his eyes and brings his hand up to start quickly stroking the first few inches, moaning your name ardently.

“So close, ner cyaré... Let me come... Please let me come,” he gasps, legs trembling as he forces himself to hold on until you grant him permission.

You shift back a little to give him space and close your eyes. “I release you, Crosshair!”

He deftly strokes his cock a few more times and feels the coil in his pelvic floor unwind, a deep moan pouring out of him as he begins to come. Hot streams of his seed eject all over your forehead, nose, lips and chin, covering your face like a spectral mask. Breathing hard, Crosshair pulls away from you, hastily pulling his blacks up and tucking himself back in. Not forgetting the other half of your directive, he gathers his courage and sets aside feelings of revulsion, leaning forward and taking you by the shoulders.

He's never tasted himself before now, but curiosity and the driving need to satisfy you get the better of him. His hot tongue starts at your lips, licking them clean with a single pass. Hunter chuckles quietly as he watches Crosshair grimace, the salty bitterness an unpleasant surprise. He returns to your chin, then quickly passes over your nose and forehead, lapping up the remnants of his spend. You open your eyes and see he's pulled away from you, a look of serious aversion on his face as he's fighting the urge to spit out his load.

“Have you learned your lesson, Crosshair?” you say with great merriment. “Judging by that sour face, I'd say you have. Am I correct?” He nods, and you get to your feet, wrapping one arm around his slim waist, the other around his shoulders. He looks down at you and you can see his eyes silently beseeching you to hurry. “Feed me, love...I want to know how you taste.”

You open your mouth, tongue resting on your bottom lip as Crosshair lowers his head, opening his mouth when he's within reach. A quiet moan emanates from you as his tongue touches yours, the creamy pool of his seed passing from him to you. Curling your tongue back into your mouth, you swallow all of it as Crosshair closes his eyes and sighs softly. Your hand trails its way up the back of his neck until you're cradling his head, and you moan faintly into his mouth as his lips connect with yours for an amatory kiss.

“Now...I'm satisfied. See, I knew you would bend to my will. All it took was the proper motivation. Well behaved boys will always be rewarded...miscreants will not. It's that simple.” Your fingertip traces its way along the lines of his tattoo, his eyes meeting yours. “Such a good boy you are, Crosshair. My good boy.”

Crosshair's hand passes down your spine until he reaches your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks firmly as he seeks out your mouth for a passionate kiss. You hold onto him tighter as his tongue and yours meet, his hunger for you not yet slaked as he takes your tongue between his teeth and gently nips at it. You groan softly as you start growing wet again, and you can feel Crosshair's cock stir once more. A soft cough behind you interrupts the moment, and you turn to see Hunter looking at you with a gentle smile of approval.

“Oh...right. Game's over, lads. Everybody wins,” you laugh.

“What, no second round, mésh'la?” Wrecker jokes as he stands up and stretches. “I think I'm ready for another go!”

“No way, big man. Not until I've had another shower and a little sleep...you've all worn me out. So if you'll excuse me, I'll –”

You let out a yelp as Crosshair reaches under your legs and picks you up. “Then let's get you cleaned up and in bed, cyaré...as far as we're concerned, the night is still young,” he says devilishly, turning to walk out of the living room with you.

“Crosshair, wait.” He stops as he gets into the main hallway, and you look over his shoulder. “I don't want to sleep alone tonight, boys. Come on.”

*****

As you exit your bathroom still combing out your hair, you see Crosshair and Tech already under the covers of your gargantuan bed, waiting for you to occupy the space between them. The other three are all sitting at the foot of it half undressed, their shirts slung over the back of a nearby chair. You stop and flash all of them a flirtatious grin, and all of them return it with carnal smiles of their own.

“You said there wasn't room for all of us in here, Y/N,” Echo remarks with amusement.

“I was being facetious, Echo. This bed can support half the Hutt family, and then some!”

“Then we are in no danger of having it collapse,” Tech interjects. “Come to bed, cyar'íka...we all very much would like to continue the bonding process with you.”

He holds up the covers for you, and you see that both he and Crosshair are fully naked and partially aroused. You slip between them, Crosshair pressing himself against your side as he nuzzles your neck contentedly. Tech slings his arm around your waist, kissing your cheek softly. Echo and Wrecker reach for Hunter as they all lie down, settling in the spaces between you and the twins.

Crosshair closes his eyes, laughing quietly. “You owe me 10 credits, Tech. I told you we'd all fit.”

#star wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #the bad batch poly #the bad batch tech #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch echo #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch crosshair #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb echo #the bad batch smut

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ms-cartoon · 4 months

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I've been coming across a bunch of Hazbin spoilers and decided "screw it" and found the leaks to the full episodes. (I don't care how sensitive you leak haters are about it)

Of course, as expected, this show is already turning out to be trashy as I would expect it to be. Little retcons here and there, shitty writing, some crappy and pathetic characters who already lost whatever mojo they had back in the pilot, voice-acting is bitter as it will always be, etc.

There are a lot of issues with just these two eps, but I'm just gonna point out the ones that got my attention the most.

WARNING: THERE ARE SPOILERS/ MENTIONS OF HARRASMENT AND ALL THE 18+ BS.

-- Charlie- "Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates, known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light. Angels that worshipped good and shielded all from evil."

I beg to differ since it's established already that angels from heaven are nothing but fakes and are evil as hell, probably proud of it. Exhibit A: Adam and Sera. Now if they were anything like Frollo (someone who believes they are doing good but are not) I might be okay with it. Like say, they only resort to extermination because they're from heaven, they feel it is their job, and they have to do it even though it's wrong. Instead, however, I assume they exterminate because they just like to do it and they're evil like that. They probably have a feeling that some sinners are still good people on the inside and just don't care.

-- Charlie: As the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power. Threatened by this,

Heaven made a truly heartless decision that every year, they would send down an army an extermination to ensure Hell and its sinners could never rise against them.

I hear with my little ear another retcon!!

In the pilot, the only reason why extermination was a thing was because of overpopulation in hell. Now they're saying heaven is exterminating sinners cuz they're threatened by the overgrowing power and they don't want to be rebelled by it?? I going to guess that they only made this change so they can force evil on heaven while making Lucifer the innocent one. This is exactly what they did with Stella in the HB series where it was brought up that things were okay between her and Stolas only for the second season to say Stella hated Stolas the whole time they were together and treated him badly just so the writers can tell us viewers that she's evil.

Is this gonna be a thing now?

-- Angel: I'll have the horniest sinners knockin these walls down to get in!

This body was made to be exploited!

Seriously, guys, this is the same pervert we're supposed to feel bad for BECAUSE he's being exploited!

And leave it to Angel to completely miss the point of this hotel. What they want is to convince sinners to REDEEM themselves. Banging them is not a way to go about it, bud!

-- My predictions about Angel being a sex joke are correct. I'm mean- they've always been correct, I'm just saying I had a feeling they were going to show it off more in the show.

-- Vaggie: "No, we can't force sinners to stay here. They need to choose to."

Angel Dust: "Well, I chose to stay here and I think it's all stupid."

No shit- The only reason why u agreed to stay is for the free rent. So don't go marking yourself as a good example.

-- I don't totally have a problem with this show being a musical as long as the timing is right. Charlie is so quick to tell Vaggie about a meeting she'll participate in and is excited about, but before Vaggie can even question it and talk to her, Charlie immediately starts singing without even hearing Vaggie out. They kinda rushed this musical number a little too quickly. Which only goes to show how fast-paced this episode is. It's always fast-pacing with these shows.

-- I have the sudden urge to jump inside this show and beat the ever-loving crap outta Angel if keeps on moaning and getting horny . . .

-- Angel continuously flirts and touches an obviously uncomfortable Husk and fans are going to look at this as "cute" while I look in annoyance and disgust. And once again, this is the same guy we're supposed to feel bad for because he has a pimp who inflicts the same actions that he does and fans will choose to ignore it.

-- Adam is practically the most irritating character in this series so far. I was right with what I said about him before. For someone who's supposed to be an angel he sure as hell doesn't act like it. The whole time he's on screen, he's just making jokes, ridiculing the hell out of Charlie, and not listening to her at all. Continuously cussing and talking about dicks??? He has the most cringiest dialogue ever and I had the urge to skip it every time he's on screen. Something tells me he and Lute should switch positions since she seems more professional.

-- Charlie: Sinners make mistakes, but everyone makes mistakes.

Charlie, I know where you're trying to get at sweetheart, but I really hope you don't include all the rapists, murderers, abusers, and pedophiles down below. Do you really think they qualify as someone who can be redeemed? If so, I would have to side with the angels here despite their antagonistic behavior. I would understand trying to rehab drug addicts, alcoholics, robbers, etc. but definitely not the former.

Now that I think about it, Charlie is kind of acting like Viv in this scenario where she tries to excuse these criminalistic behaviors most of her characters committed when they really don't deserve anything good happening to them. That's like trying to redeem Valentino for pimping and abusing Angel Dust. Do we really think Val is capable of redemption??

Sorry to burst your bubble Ms. Morningstar, but the angels are in the right here. Hell exists for a reason and people who do bad things and like to do bad things deserve to be there. I wouldn't bother trying to rehab sinners who don't deserve it or are not going to try to fix their behavior.

-- Lute: Angels don't make mistakes . . .

Then what does that say about Lucifer? He was an angel who caused some actions that you guys would count as mistakes therefore expelling him from heaven. You guys never even attempted to exterminate him yet.

-- I'm sorry, I don't like Brandon Rogers as Killjoy. It's literally just a demon version of one of his characters. It's nothing original like the pilot.

So that is what I think about the first episode. If I forget to mention something, i'll just edit the post. Won't be too long before I make some comments about the second one, but for now, the gist of everything is . . . it's bleh.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me!!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #angel dust critical #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #anti hazbin hotel #anti huskerdust

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tobiasdrake · 9 days

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Hi! Absolutely adore your DBZ analyses, thank you so much - just spent a delightful time reading them all. I was wondering, since you've commented on Chi-Chi and Goku's marriage, what do you have to say about Vegeta and Bulma's relationship? (I've always been entranced by it - mostly because as with all his romances, Toriyama had the wisdom not to show any of it onscreen. But I'd love to know your thoughts about it.)

Bulma and Vegeta are a match made in Hell, and they deserve each other. (Which is to say yes, I love this ship.)

Hooking Bulma up with Vegeta was a hell of a narrative swerve. Generally speaking, stories rarely do this; They rarely let characters break up once they're already invested in a romance, unless it's supposed to be like a love triangle thing.

And Bulma? Bulma was invested. At least, to a degree.

This was the birth of the original Bulma romance that ran through about half of the manga. Two teens interesting in the opposite sex suddenly realize the availability of the other and a relationship is born.

Toriyama says he's bad at writing romance but to be honest, this has always hit me as more believable than your typical drawn-out five-seasons-of-pining Will They/Won't They affair. I'm a girl. You're a boy. Wanna go out and see what clicks?

And these two... these two do not click. We only really see their relationship from Bulma's perspective but it's clear that these two are miserable together.

The manga sorta takes Bulma's side, in that we never really get to hear Yamcha's opinion about their relationship one way or another. When he's around, all he wants to do is talk shop about martial arts. Since Toriyama doesn't like to write romance, we simply don't see much of it from them. What little we do hear about it comes from Bulma complaining about how miserable she is.

Bulma is pretty much always pissed off whenever the relationship is in focus at all.

Anime filler tends to take Yamcha's side instead, portraying him as a put-upon victim of Bulma's jealousy and abuse. A nice guy who doesn't deserve the way she treats him.

It's not hard to buy into this interpretation of their relationship since, as noted, we rarely get anything from Yamcha with regard to his relationship to women or Bulma specifically but we know Bulma's a lot. It's easy to accept Bulma as the "bad guy" of this relationship because. Like. Remember that time she enslaved a sentient being? Good times.

Though one particular moment from Yamcha later on kinda stands out as a bit of a retroactive Yikes.

Yeah. Uh. Threatening violence against a woman for rejecting his bro is a bit of a Yikes. Is this who we were supposed to see Yamcha as all this time? Because, if so, it might have helped to let him opine about the relationship more. Just saiyan.

According to Toriyama in interview, Yamcha and Bulma ultimately broke up because she caught Yamcha cheating on her. I guess that's what him being "popular with girls" was supposed to mean: Once he got over his gynophobia and found confidence with the opposite sex, Yamcha became a player.

But that doesn't necessarily come across from the statement, "Bulma can't stand that Yamcha's popular with girls." A lot of fans took that to mean girls just like him for no reason, and Bulma's unreasonably jealous about it. The anime took that position too.

Note that the "Yamcha is popular with girls" thing isn't helped by the fact that we never see it on-panel because he's only ever talking shop when he's around. But we do see a wandering eye from Bulma often enough.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying the aesthetic appeal of another party even when you're in a monogamous relationship, but it doesn't really present the "Other party is a womanizer and cheater" case when you're the only one ever seen doing this.

So it feels like there's a lot about Yamcha and Bulma's relationship that never made it to print yet influenced later decisions. Those decisions ended up being controversial because the foundation for those decisions was never laid. Here, Toriyama's disdain for writing romance worked against him.

But ultimately, regardless of whose side you take, it doesn't really matter. It doesn't matter who the "bad guy" is. A healthy relationship does not have a "bad guy" in it.

Whether or not Yamcha cheated, whether or not Bulma's just an unreasonably jealous hell-beast, it doesn't actually matter. What matters is that once you reach the point where you're taking sides over which party is the most obnoxious asshole and I hate you and I wish we never met... this relationship is not working for anybody.

It doesn't matter who the bad guy is. It doesn't matter who deserves the blame for this relationship being a toxic shithole. That there is blame to throw around in the first place is the problem. Every relationship has its ups and downs but if one party is constantly miserable for years and has possibly been looking for an escape hatch since year 1, that's not a little tiff.

What matters is that these two are not working out. Any time we see their relationship in focus, they are miserable together. The anime tried to do some patchwork on that with audience reception by giving them some cute moments as well, but because those moments aren't canon the pair remained miserable.

And then this happened.

Despite everything, I think we all assumed that Bulma and Yamcha were going to work it out. Fictional relationships are often portrayed as tumultuous. To a writer, nothing says true love like being constantly miserable and despising every waking moment you spend with your awful, nagging ball-and-chain of a spouse. That's just. Like. What the straights think romance is. It's weird.

I think we all thought that was going to be the deal here too. And then Trunks came along and said, "Nope, actually, they finally severed the cord."

Again, Toriyama says he's bad at writing romance but holy shit, the toxic and miserable relationship actually ended. The two characters involved who only got together out of loneliness and desperation later found they were incompatible with each other. That's so real. Much moreso than a lot of fictional romances.

Instead, we got the absolute crack ship that is Vegeta and Bulma. What a wild-ass revelation for Trunks to drop.

Like. Until the end of the Namek arc, this was the only time these two characters even met.

She also saw Vegeta for like two seconds here.

That was it. That was their entire history together until Goku defeated Frieza while Kaio sent everyone to Earth. But that's when everything changed for Vegeta.

Stranded on Earth with no ship, no affiliations, no ability to leave the planet and nowhere to go or be and no obligations to anyone but himself, Vegeta's circumstances were wildly different than they'd ever been before. He had become one of the Namekian refugees.

And Bulma was offering refuge.

Hard to resist, indeed. That moment is absolutely hilarious in retrospect. Bulma rolled a Nat 20 on that charisma check. It's pretty clear who the instigator of this relationship was.

Like. It needs to be stated that at this point, the only thing Bulma knew about Vegeta was that he tried to kill them all multiple times, and also he's kinda hot. But. Like.

It's Bulma. Anyone who doesn't expect this from her by now either hasn't been paying attention or started watching the English dub of the anime when they did Z first.

So, naturally, Vegeta is a kind and loving man and became a phenomenal husband and fa--

Wait. No. I got my notes mixed up. It says here Vegeta's a rotten dirty bastard. Like. Chronically. He has Supreme Dickshit Syndrome. It's genetic.

Most of Bulma and Vegeta's developing relationship happens offscreen. From what snippets we get, Vegeta has a tendency to vanish during the day, but he still lives at Capsule Corp so Bulma sees him around.

By the end of the three-year timeskip, it's official. Or semi-official. Yamcha and Bulma broke up at some point during that timeskip and Bulma's given birth to Trunks.

As for Vegeta, he's evidently moved out of Capsule Corp and into his own place.

I guess he's still keeping contact with Bulma since she knows what his intentions are. Not to mention he found his tranquility during these three years, though it's somewhat ambiguous as to what exactly brought that peace to his heart.

But the relationship is off to a rocky start nonetheless. Clearly something went down between Vegeta and Bulma that drove Vegeta out of Capsule Corp. To. Uh. Somewhere.

I like to imagine Vegeta living in some shitty West City apartment he rents off a stipend Bulma's sending him that he refuses to openly acknowledge. Like, room 101 is a down-on-his-luck tax accountant, room 102 is a couple with a kid trying to make ends meet off two retail workers' salaries, and then room 103 is Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans. Sometimes he goes to community events and pretends he isn't having fun.

No lie, I would absolutely watch that as a sitcom.

As for Vegeta himself, he's still a rotten dirty bastard.

Worth noting that Vegeta's saying this as a Super Saiyan which means he's drunk on the form's enhanced aggression. But. Still. Vegeta is an absolute monster being dragged kicking and screaming into a pleasant life that he'll one day resent himself for enjoying. This is his arc moving forward.

It's not so much a redemption arc as it is a domestication arc. The uniquely evil even by Saiyan standards Vegeta is gradually being changed by his new terrestrial life. He doesn't want to own up to how much he enjoys it here. Seven years later, he's still desperate to avoid owning up to it.

He doesn't want to be happy here. He doesn't want a loving wife and a son who looks up to him and the most lavish home wealth can afford him and easy, comfortable days spent with friends and loved ones by his side. He doesn't want a happy ending.

But it's like Bulma warned him: Dragon Ball's queen bee is hard to resist.

Welcome back to Capsule Corp, Vegeta. We hardly even noticed you were gone. Honestly, Future Trunks deserves a lot of the credit for this; Watching him die at the Cell Games was what flipped the switch in Vegeta's head that he wants the family he and Bulma have spawned together.

Sure is a good thing we have Dragon Balls because this is a hell of a time to suddenly decide you love your son. But we see the consequences of that seven years later, since Vegeta moved back into Capsule Corp from... I don't know, wherever he went. They're gonna miss him at the next community poolside summer BBQ event for all tenants.

Part of what makes Vegeta and Bulma work, I think, is that they're on the same page about one crucial point. For Bulma, there is one person who will always take precedent in her life above all others. Romance comes and romance goes, but this is the relationship that matters most to her.

Especially when it comes to martial arts and fighting. Bulma doesn't know a lot about the subject, but she knows that Son Goku is her #1. She has no reservations about saying that to her lover's face either.

When fists start flying, Bulma knows who she's rooting for. If Goku's involved, then it's not her guy. That's. Just. Something that anyone who wants to be with her has to be willing to understand. The single most important relationship in Bulma's life will always be her friendship with Goku.

And the thing about Vegeta is... He kind of agrees? Like. See above, re: I wanted Babidi to destroy my feelings for Bulma so that I could become the warrior that can fight with you, Kakarot.

As much as Goku will always be Bulma's #1, he'll also always be Vegeta's #1. He even gets included into Vegeta's fond farewell to the family he loves.

Goku is basically the platonic third in a two-person polycule. This is the second marriage that this poor ace plays a vital role in despite having no real interest in romance whatsoever.

Bulma is selfish, spiteful, petty, and vain. At one point, DBS: Broly directly compares her to Frieza; A comparison that manages to be unbelievably unflattering to both participants.

They're the same picture. A revelation that would probably be horrifying to both.

And Vegeta. Especially Vegeta. But. Like. She warned you she was irresistible. You didn't take her seriously and now look where you are. Married to the She-Frieza. Maybe you should think about your life choices.

This is just. So much fun. As I said at the outset, Bulma and Vegeta are a match made in Hell who make it work because they're both similar brands of awful.

As for Yamcha, it's a little known fact but Yamcha rebounded and moved on with his life. He stops having much story relevancy after he leaves Capsule Corporation so we see very little of his private life from there. After retiring from martial arts and splitting up with Bulma, Yamcha's left without any story hooks to keep him involved.

But there was this interesting moment, when he realized they had a Shenron wish to spare.

After Krillin comes up with something better to use the wish on, he takes it back and claims it was a joke.

This is, surprisingly, a point of contention in the fandom as some of Yamcha's fans prefer the idea that he died miserable and alone after Bulma ruined his life by leaving him. This takeback gets pointed to as proof that he made up his girlfriend entirely. However, in context, it's clear that a) he's trying to brush off his earlier attempt at making a petty wish and b) the thing he's transparently pretending was a joke is the necklace wish, not the existence of his new girlfriend.

Like Bulma, Yamcha moved on with his life after the break up of their miserable relationship. And that was the final word that was ever uttered on Yamcha's romantic prospects, because this was the last time he was ever meaningfully involved with anything at all.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #bulma #vegeta #yamcha

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sordidmusings · 6 days

Text

WIP Snips!

This is a scheduled post I'm setting to weeks ahead as a threat to myself to get something more substantial done. If this makes it to post then I have failed in that 🤡 (Checking in on it now with only a week and a half until it posts and no closer to that goal of something actually fully finished with no dice so whoops 🥴). Or I’m MIA who knows at this point but we can hope lol

Some of these will be more substantial than others - sometimes it means I have more done but largely it means that I think the piece has something more worth showing. There's tons that aren't on here which just goes to shows my abismal lack of control on the AuDHD in general but especially right now 💀 Ranges from actual sections to summaries. Listing these all out really shows how I'm little more than a smut peddlar 🤡🥴 There is some SFW on the docket so there's that lol

Hopefully you enjoy a little finger food buffet - we've got Buggy, Croc, Doffy, Law (some also ft Shachi and Penguin), Corazon, Shanks, Mihawk, Nami, and the series pulls in Beckman, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Koby. There's canon and some AU.

Organized by character except the themed series, which is at the end. Like I said, there's many in the works that aren't on here but this shit is big enough lol

Eat up ٩꒰ ˘ ³˘꒱۶~♡

Buggy

The Hat Stays ON NSFW

Snippet:

“I told you, you need to relax”

“How am I supposed to relax when- ahh fuck, baby, pleaaaaase don’t stop.”

“When what, Bugs?” you goad. You watch with glee as his eyes flutter shut at your teasing grip on the head of his cock sliding over him in small swirls. He sinks a little lower into his seat and spreads his legs just that much wider.

“When they’re gonna kill meeee,” he whines, half for fear and half for pleasure. His gloved hands paw deeply into your thighs in search of comfort.

“They wouldn’t dare,” you grumble and loom over Buggy even more possessively.

Sensing you closer, he cracks his eyes open below his furrowed brows to take you in. The protective violence that mixes into your expression to fully bind to your hunger makes him feel split in two. One piece of him is flung towards warmth and safety, knowing you really would try clawing and shredding your way through the other two for him. The other half of him shrinks to a shivering speck under the threat in your eyes looking down on him and giving him a taste of what it would feel like to be your prey. He shivers at the safely anxious and dangerously addictive feeling, cock jumping hard in your grip.

Your scowl turns into a smirk as you quickly pick up on his train of thought. Oh your sweet, beloved clown needs time being weak and possessed? You’ll happily oblige.

Your free hand moves from the large pool of red fabric at his waist to trail teasing touches up his torso, rewarding you with a show of his muscles jumping under your fingertips. When you get to his collarbone, you jerk your hand up to firmly grip his jaw. Buggy gasps, staring at you with wide eyes, fully showing off the way his pupils were overtaking that beautiful sea green of his. “You’re mine,” you growl to him an inch from his face, forehead touching the front of his hat, staring fiercely into his eyes. You can feel his pulse pound harder against your index finger. “And I protect what is mine.”

Scare Actor AU NSFW

Original notes in somewhat coherent paragraph form then a bulleted play by play (ish) of the first part where he's more in the headspace of his scare actor role. This one'll really give an idea of how my notes for things process lol

Original notes:

Buggy is a scare actor at a circus themed haunted house/corn maze for the Halloween season - he wouldn’t tell you that sometimes the other employees would come back here to smoke for their breaks. He was absolutely positive that this was worth losing the seasonal gig. He was also pretty sure his friends would watch instead of stopping anything. They were freaks after all and not just the sideshow kind. He’s ashamed to admit that the idea of Shanks walking in on him for once had his cock twitching.

(Slow up because you keep hearing rustling) You slowed you me hips down so that he could hope to respond. He actually whined at you. A few sharp pats to his cheek got his eyes opened and watching you. The hazy look in them had you clenching and him leaning his head back again with warbling moan. “Hey, no, look at me!” His head lolled back forward and you were greeted with a very grumpy expression. “You’re sure that no one comes this way?”

He was sure that he’s never been more turned on in his life. The way his heart skittered each time he’d test the waters with you and you allow it was beyond addicting. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he never felt that again.

Buggy hastily jerked off his jacket before noticing his opportunity. When he was sure you were looking, he flapped it dramatically and gently laid it out like a server preparing a fine table. He finished his little gag with a flourish of his arm and a deep bow. He was rewarded with your giggles. “Such a gentleman. Did they offer hospitality courses in clown school?” “Only as extra curricular.” Something about him getting down between your legs or smth “You must be an overachiever” “Just very eager to learn” (him referencing earlier mention of not having a lot of experience)

Struggling cuz like it would also be hot for him to be actually scary and threatening. Maybe there’s two interactions, the first one being actually in the horror house and in that one he’s feral and still in his character but the second one is where they sneak away to the corn field and he’s much more in his own personality. First one is him ‘forcing’ the reader to blow him (mostly about her doing things for him?) while in the field they have longer penetrative sex.

You try to ask for his name for the second time but he says he hates his legal name (hinted family issues??) and everyone just calls him Buggy now.

Part 1:

Reader finds joy in scary places instead of fear, they are exhilarated by the haunted house that is terrifying everyone else

Buggy is a murder clown actor there and you caught his eye, half attraction to you physically and half attraction to your responses to the house (he feels curiosity and also comradery for it and finds your fear giggles and laughter addictive)

He makes sure to tail you around the whole property even though he was supposed to be sticking to his own section

He does want to see what you’d look like actually scared - just for a moment like creeped out then jump scare not like actually scared for your safety

He makes sure you start seeing him out of the corner of your eye and know that he’s following you around

He corrales you into a back area (with help from Shanks - bless up to the wingman) that was closed for the night

Once you’re there is when he shows himself more again - you saw him well and a lot in his actual area but then only in tiny glimpses after

At first he won’t respond to you to be intimidating, but eventually he does talk

Through the interaction you notice he is following the no touch rule religiously - even moving back when you lean into him - so you bring it up

He slightly breaks character or moreso breaks the 4th wall - mentions that he’s playing a role (and that he thinks you’re enjoying it as much as him) and there are rules that he needs to follow

Important check in!!! - when rules are mentioned he says that its for safety and that all the scares are only fun when they are supported by safety - it emphasizes that he wants to push and tease you but you are not in any actual danger

He somehow manages to keep the on edge and aggressive mood going through tone and body language and pacing around and toying with you despite the actual words he’s saying being quite kind

You ask if you play a role too if that means he can touch you (say directly that you want to touch him and he almost goes for it before the complete check in)

He asks what role you want to play

You say, “cornered victim who tried to escape”

He responds, “Oh darling, but that’s what you are” and the game is on

Starts by grabbing you in easily escapable ways or lightens his grip immediately when you pull against it to ease you both into it and to really make sure that you are also furthering the scene

You get to your knees and palm at his thighs and that’s when he starts getting fully into his role again

Somewhere in the blow job when he’s getting pretty close you decide you want to feel chased and cornered again so you pull back, kiss his tip, give him a wink, then bolt off

He screams after you and immediately begins chasing you

*Find a way to have reader knowingly stay in back areas but don’t really want to run out to the woods - want to stay in run down building environment

It doesn’t take him too long to get close but you manage to hide (hiding pretty quick could be how you stay out of public area and away from other employees - maybe mention earlier that Shanks also wingmanned by clearing employees out of that area too or that the closed off area is bigger than I originally imagined)

Have short scene of him moving around the room and taunting you with all the things he’s going to do with you once he finds you

When he does get you he picks you up (easily) and carries you to a nearby table

While he’s placing you down, you manage to slip away again but this time he catches you after only a few steps

“Guess I’ll have to fuck you into the floor like the little bitch you are”

Similar to prone bone, has you very arched and mostly clothed still (hot and also helps keep your skin from being rubbed into the concrete floor)

Definitely have the whole thing be real feral but also have very small moments that show he’s making sure you don’t actually get hurt - stuff like putting his hand between your head and the floor, changing positions of limbs around if he notices the discomfort in them growing, nuzzling/pressing into places he’s hurt/marked (kissing over them would be too nice)

Of course the fact that he’s making sure your pleasure is as prioritized as is reveals the underlying equality to the dynamic

He pulls out when your getting close and plays it like its a punishment but it’s actually because he was about to cum in you

You whine at him about it so he makes fun of you for enjoying being caught and begging for your attacker

You beg him to use you and he folds easily so you end up sucking him off to finish him

He switches to heavily praising

He shoves you down and eats you out until you cum

After talk!!! - roles completely fall off and you both act really relaxed about the situation - you’re more in charge with leading things afterwards tho

Buggy asks if you want help, you respond that you wouldn’t mind if he got your pants back up over your ass but you think you gotta lay for awhile

You pat the spot next to you for him to lay down, he stares at it for a moment (the floor do be kinda dirty) before he decides “fuck it” and lays down

You roll your eyes at the fact that he laid on his back and even his arm isn't brushing yours so you roll onto your side and snuggle onto him, he seems unsure of what to do

“You’re gonna lay here and cuddle me until I’m ready to move. You have no say in the matter.”

After you say that he melts into it and pulls you closer and to lay more comfortably

Cheek on top of headdddd

Y’all talk awhile

Wanna address The Nose, cuz he can’t be born with that nose in our world - definitely some is part of the costume but maybe he has a crooked nose he hates from it getting broken a few times in scraps when he was a young teen

TLC Massage pt 3

Snippet:

You reveled in the feeling of rough stubble changing to soft skin as you slowly rubbed your cheek across his, from jaw to nose. When your cheek met the side of his nose, Buggy flinched again. The hand on his opposite cheek held him steady, enough pressure to comfort but not enough to control. You followed the path of your cheek with the tip of your nose until it met his. Keeping the contact, you brought your lips forward to press next to the corner of his lips. The soft skin against your lips twitched and you heard a shaky exhale. When you tilted your mouth back away, Buggy chased it by tilting his jaw towards you.

Buggy was thinking so many things that none of them fully registered. Gods, he wanted to kiss you. It was a wish unfolding right in front of him, one that felt so surreal it left him stuck between reactions. There was delicious, bubbling anticipation shooting through his veins, but anxiety was hot on its heels. In his mind your kiss was perfect - had you imagined the same? How could he ever measure up to a fantasy? Did you even think of kissing him before or was this some flippant fancy to enjoy affection for affection’s sake?

You turn to hover over his lips, making your noses brush again. This time, Buggy pushed harder into your opposite palm.

“No?” you asked in a whisper. He felt the word form against his lips, just barely a touch. Instead of answering, he took a deep breath, so you pulled back just far enough to look in his eyes. A thousand shades of blue and green flickered through them with thoughts and feelings just as numerous. You patiently held steady and pet his opposite cheek. Finally, he answered, “I don’t know.”

You gave him a nod and a reassuring smile, letting him release some of the tension cording his muscles. Moving steadily so that he had plenty of time to turn back, you placed a lingering kiss to his cheek before settling yourself back on his chest.

Buggy couldn’t gain the courage to put his hands back on you. He felt beyond ridiculous; you must think he’s some pitiful loser for being scared of a kiss. Well it wasn’t the kiss - it was the inevitable rejection that he remembered was coming every time you touched his nose. Feeling like he should hide away from you, Buggy kept his arms spread on the bed and his head turned away.

Sir Crocodile

Bonding Exercises (Request) NSFW

Summary:

You and Sir Croc have worked together for a long time, feeling even longer due to the way you wrestle each other for control in your partnership. You would've dropped your work with him a long time ago if it weren't for the fact that together you produce exceptional results and you can't pretend that he doesn't have the skills to back up his confidence and pigheadedness determination. You hate to admit to yourself that you also stick around for the respect and attraction that has grown right alongside your frustration. You know that the attraction is at least mutual - Croc started out subtle but now he does little to hide his wandering eyes and the way his hand yearns for you. The touches stay all in the realm of cordial and platonic, but there's a weight to his palm on you and a lingering that both of you allow to slip well past polite timing. Your frustration with each other seems to grow right alongside everything else though and work is getting harder and harder due to your shortened temper guarding fragile feelings and Croc responding in kind.

With all this in mind, you grab the hand that's found more and more of a home on your skin to capture Croc's burning gaze and proposition him: why not indulge in your attraction and get the passion out that way? You'll both have clearer heads and he'll get a chance to prove that his aura isn't compensating for something. He falls for the bait quick, barely giving you enough time to enforce your golden rule: kissing above the neck is only for someone who loves you.

Snippet:

Even with your foggy mind, the blazing trail he's trying to sneak over the corner of your jaw is obvious. It seems that he's having just as much trouble keeping his sanity through the sweet onslaught of the slick glide of his cock working you open. The hand you had pawing at his solid shoulder snaps to fist in his hair. He cuts off his deep groan with a curse, not wanting to let you know how the feel of you tugging at his hair makes his eyes roll back. The jerk interrupting his steady thrusts and the eager jump of his cock pressing into your plush walls was more than enough to clue you in. You use your grip to guide his ear to your lips.

"What did I tell you?" you reprimand, voice honey and venom in one. Your tone and the humid little puffs of breath caressing his ear pull a full body shiver from Croc. You tighten your legs around his waist to wring out more closeness, relishing the muscles in his sides fighting against the meat of your thighs. "You have to love me first."

A shaky breath escapes Sir Croc, as his temple brushes your cheek. Then, as if lightning struck through him, his muscles tense and he dives deeper into you with a punishing thrust. Though faster and more forceful, he clearly knows what he's doing; these aren't the sloppy motions of a fresh dom clinging to control. These are smooth and precise in their unrelenting thrust and grind to touch every piece of you and remind you of all the strength laying in wait to be used. The threat of it and the covetous way he plunges into you has your muscles going pliant in his hold. The heavy shove of his thick tip across your electric nerves to punctuate each thrust has you hiccuping to chase your breath.

"And how will you know? Words are cheap," Croc taunts against your own ear between the increasing pant of his breath. His smooth, deep rumble turns to a forceful growl with his next words. "How many have lied to claim the prize of your lips?"

Give Them an Inch ft. Mihawk NSFW

Summary:

You wake up mildly confused between Croc n Hawk. You'd spent the night talking and drinking with them and hoping that the two shrewd men would notice your little hints that you desperately wanted either of them to finally claim you. The most you got was occupying the same bed, but it seems that that may be because there was a preference for you to be sleep-fogged instead of buzzed.

Snippet:

Croc is waking up more with each motion of yours and you realize he’s truly amongst the living when he noses his way up your neck and blows gentle cold air across your ear. Your shiver and goosebumps earn a quiet, rumbling chuckle from him. The way you can feel it shudder his chest against your back has pleasure tingling through you.

“Good morning, little lamb,” he whispers, lips brushing the skin of your neck before placing a light kiss right behind your ear.

Now that really throws you off guard. The only way his lips have touched you before was in his usual greeting: a soft hold on your hand and a bow to kiss your knuckles. Never has he treated you to anything so intimate. He continues to do so, now trailing his lips to brush down your neck and across your shoulder. He retraces that path with firmer and firmer presses of his warm lips against your skin. The whole time his fingers continue to pet into the flesh just below the crease of your thigh. It all leaves you so confused; surely he would’ve done this last night if he had wanted to? When you were trying to subtly clue either of them into your want?

“Sir Croc?” you breathe out, “what-”

“Shhh, little lamb,” he croons before his tone turns teasing. “Wouldn’t want to wake up the hawk now would we?”

Your eyes snap up to the beautiful image of Mihawk’s peaceful face, looking perfectly carved in the soft morning light where it rests upon his pillow. Your awareness goes back to his large palm under your cheek and the gentle weight of his hand in yours. You shift again and notice your legs had been faintly brushing his with each motion. How had he not awoken?

“Lift your waist, sweet thing,” Croc urges.

You listen right away, too thrown off by the whole situation to question much else. You press your side away from the mattress and feel the chilled metal of Croc’s hook begin to slide under you, earning yet another shiver from you. It continues on its way, lifting you up even higher as the large, rounded base bass passes below you. All the fidgeting and movement has Mihawk shuffle slightly, spiking your heart rate at the idea of him staring you down in the embrace of Sir Croc. It only holds steady for a moment before Croc uses the base of his hook and his hold by your hip to drag you until you’re pressing flush into him, making your heart thump even faster and harder at the feel of his intimidating hardness coming to nestle against you.

“Croc, what are you-?”

“Hush,” he orders, tone more commanding even though it remained quiet. “Just want to touch you for a while, is that so bad?”

------

“How many times do I have to warn you, little lamb?” Croc says, voice fond and teasing. “Hush.”

He stops his tugging when the cloth makes it halfway down your thighs; he doesn’t need it any further to get what he wants anyway. He nestles back against you, making you both let out shaky moans at the feeling of finally being skin to skin. When he grinds on you this time, you cherish every new detail you can feel, loving how his velvety skin contrasts with the solid cock it covers and how his cock was dripping enough to make his head feel like a sloppy mess against your skin. He’s stuck thinking of the heat of you seeping into his body and taking him over, how much your pussy, exposed to him by an obscene arch of your spine, is painting the underside of his cock with each grind.

“There you are,” he breathes reverently, “so fucking warm and wet.”

You whimper in response to the words, pussy fluttering in want of something to clamp down on. Forgetting that you shouldn’t disturb the man lying next to you, your right hand leaves Mihawk’s to fist the front of his loose shirt. You don’t aim well and your fingers instead search against bare skin and anchor to his golden cross instead. You peek at him again from under your pleasure-scrunched brow. He lets out a breath much closer to a sigh and you feel the air curl gently over your face, a strong contrast to Croc’s forceful grinds. However, there are still no signs of Mihawk waking up. You keep looking even after you’re sure; staring at this gorgeous man lying next to you while being touched has your skin buzzing and head fuzzy.

How would he react if those golden eyes opened and saw you like this? Would they turn dark with desire, pupils blowing large enough to swallow you whole? Would his face flush a pretty pink from seeing you fall apart in front of him? What pretty sounds would he make to echo your own? Would he reach to touch you, unable to hold himself back?

“I wonder how warm you are inside, little lamb,” Croc whispers after a teasing nip on your earlobe.

Hybrid AU NSFW

Summary:

You specialize in helping exotic hybrids with traumatic pasts. Your biggest challenge has just been plopped on your lap in the form of a crocodile hybrid who reigned as champion in the fighting rings for years, yet being at the top didn't afford him any more humanity from his owners; shown in the fact that he has no name beyond "Croc". His cordial and sophisticated nature (likely taken from the mob family who owned him since he was a child) nearly lulls you into forgetting the ferocity and cruelty ingrained in him. It was branded into him from the outside by owners, strangers, and competitors, but his ability to harness it and explode it back outwards was what kept him alive for all these years. Will he learn to do the same with the patience, understanding, and kindness you feed him or will his smiles only ever be to show off sharp teeth?

Doffy

I Love You So, I'll Eat You Whole (Request) NSFW

Snippet:

“I told you, tesoro, I want you,” he responds, voice starting to tighten with his rising frustration and muscles coiling with his need to pounce and drag you out to get your angry farce over with already.

“What do you even mean? You already had me!” You scream at him, flinging closer in your wrath. “You had me and you didn’t give a shit; you sent me to die!”

Your fury and your closeness only made him smile wider and ease his posture. “No I didn’t. See-” even with those flamboyant glaces obscuring them you can feel the self-satisfaction oozing from his eyes roving over you, “you’re alive!” He actually has the gall to laugh at his comment.

“Fuck you and fuck this,” you snarl out through gnashed teeth. As you whirl around, away from him, you yell with all the accusation, hurt, and contempt your shredding vocal cords could muster, “I gave you everything!”

“No,” he finally snaps back, all the dark cheer and playfulness sloughs off of him to reveal the pure wrath and greed beneath. “No you didn’t, tesoro”

This time you can’t escape his iron grip, and your own hatred flares at the realization that he was still toying with you earlier because he was simply letting you go. Nothing you’ve done has intimidated him, he still doesn’t take you seriously - this man you loved beyond the point of obsession has always and will always toy with you.

“Fuck you,” you spit again, too angry to think anything else. He drags you close so you see every detail of his responding sneer. You kick and claw at anything you can but he doesn’t budge an inch and neither does that awful look on his face. “The fuck does that even mean?! I loved you! I faced death for you! I have nothing else to give.” Pieces of defeat that you hate even more than the man trapping you creep into your voice in the end.

“You’re giving it to me now, tesoro,” Doffy coos mockingly, leaning to brush his cheek against your temple. You would’ve killed for this affection before, but now your skin itches under the weight of the condescending touch. Trying to cringe away from him doesn’t work so you lash out with a blind bite. It catches his cheek and the corner of his lip, just barely drawing blood before the pop of opening flesh has you spit him back out in revulsion. “Ahh that’s perfect, tesoro.”

“Fuck you,” you sob your mantra, part hate, part confusion, and a tiny piece of defeat. “I can’t give you any more”

“You can and you will!” He yells, throwing you on his obnoxiously large desk and slamming his hands beside your head in threat. The impact shakes the expensive hardwood and your body, reminding you yet again of the force of nature that entranced you in the first place.

“I don’t hav-”

“Yes you do,” he screamed, snatching your face in one large hand and forcing you to see the raw fury and festering need twisting his expression. You’ve seen many outbursts from this man but never have you seen such ravenous rage consuming him. “You do. You gave me your love and your skills and your time and your devotion, but that’s not everything I want more.”

His large body feels hot as glowing coals as he lowers it over you, further trapping you between him and the unrelentingly cold and hard wood of his desk.

“I want your hate,” he growls, trailing his nose across your hairline in what you’re sure is a pantomime of real affection. “I want your fight and fury and violence.” His voice has softened but lost none of its fierceness, rushing out of him in a hiss instead of a roar. “I want you to kick and scream and claw at me, show me you loathe me almost as much as you worship me.”

Your confusion starts to wane and you begin to do exactly as he asks - writhing under him in search for an opening, pulling violently at his hair, clawing at his skin and clothes, turning to bite at the hand that has lifted to pet your cheek.

“When I have all of that I will have all of you.”

Law

A Warm Touch pt. 2 (undecided on NSFW)

TW for suicide, self harm, depression, messy discussions of mental health - but it will have a build in understanding and connection and a hopeful direction. Heavy heavy hurt/comfort on both sides. May have deleted pt 1 from tumblr but it should still be on Ao3

Summary:

Your attempt fails due to Law realizing how still you got and then the convulsions let him figure out what was happening. He jumped right into acting as the doctor he is, emptying your stomach and stabilizing you. He's glued to your side through your continued sleep, finally feeling the emotions come now that you're out of danger. He's filled with a disorienting cyclone of rage, guilt, fear, and grief. That storm is the second thing you notice when the world blurs back into being. The first thing you noticed is the shaky, clammy, too-tight grip on your hand.

In the wake of your desperate act, everything that's been left unsaid must be bled out for each other to see and the new hurt in both of you must be tended.

Snippet:

"How could you?" Law whispers. The broken crack and warble wounding his usually smooth and deep voice dragged the dense pit in your chest deeper than you thought possible. It took with it all the words of comfort and apology you wanted to pour over him. You've held him together when he's crumbled before, but you were never the cause of his distress. There was pungent anger and hurt seeping from his every action. Seeing the consequences of your decision had you falter and wish your running had worked to spare you both - you would be spared facing his pain and Law would be spared your failure to make anything better.

"You were going to leave me," he whimpers. "You're not allowed to leave."

He curls forward under the weight of his next sob, bent head hovering over his clasped hands white-knuckling your own. You feel his stuttering gasps and the steady drip of hot tears on your tingling hands. His distress shoots panic through you great enough to overcome the fear of making it worse and the deeply rooted feeling that you're not worthy enough to touch him. A quiet sniffle of your own interrupting your otherwise silent tears is all Law hears before he feels the feather light tough of your cheek brushing the crown of his head. The way you slowly pillow that cheek into him is hesitant and jittery as frightened deer, but it's all he needed to surge forward and crush the two of you together in a desperate hug.

"How fucking could you?" He asks again, broken but insistent, shoving his face into your chest instinctually chasing your beating heart. All you can do is whimper back and try to cling back such that you'd never be able to part.

Lonely in Company (will include NSFW)

Might change the title to Degausser cuz that song fits the vibe too well and I can see Law listening to it lol that mf looks like a man who indulges in that type of emo music - very Midwestern Emo adjacent but they’ve got the the tri-state bitterness lol

Bullet notes for the first build, leaving the notes on the outcome and growing relationship and then more angst a secret rn lol:

No stranger to these types of feelings himself, though yours manifested without some of the bitterness directed at the world or individuals, it was all directed inward

Noticed it long before he acted on it, was waiting for you to seek him first (figured if you wanted his help you’d come get it, didn’t want to prod or force)

You were avoiding bringing it up to Law or showing him because you felt your woes were insignificant compared to his and that it would almost be insulting to come to him

He also isn’t the warmest of people either, so even though it would mean the most to receive comfort from him, you also expected it the least

He eventually realizes that he’s going to have to come to you first once your symptoms are far beyond his comfort zone

Being direct, he has a talk with you that ends up making you feel like more of a burden due to your headspace more than his intention, telling you things like he’s noticed your work has been faltering and you’ve been disappearing more and more and asks if there’s something you need done - switch of position, leave the crew, etc.

You apologize (he tries to wave it off but you don’t take that to heart) and downplay how you’ve been feeling and that you’ll take care of it

He’s worried but doesn’t press

He starts to be around you more often and in closer proximity than usual (not like being next to you but he never chooses to be across the room anymore and is within distance to engage with you or your activity if need be)

This hovering is coming from a place of worry but you think it’s worry that you’re slacking or going to mess up and not his actual worry for your well being

You finally open up some when he changes to asking you what you’re thinking instead of how you’re feeling. You take a moment to stare into his eyes and he hates how empty yours look. You ask, “do you ever feel lonely?” “...every day.” You switch back to watching nothing in the air in front of you. The pause is long enough for him to think you’re done with the conversation before you look back to him. “Would it… would it be okay if I was around, Captain?” “It would be nice.”

You start to spend your free time with him, each doing separate things but sharing space together. It doesn’t help much with your loneliness but it is a good stopper for your mind getting worse because you’re not in an empty space - you can see and hear him when your thoughts start spiraling instead of them amplifying the “fact” that no one wants you around.

One night you end up falling asleep in his office. He let you rest there until he was done, not wanting to lose your presence.

He wakes you with a hand on your knee and the other gently shaking your shoulder. He whispered your name so softly that it broke your heart with the yearning to hear that all the time and have it mean something

Similarly, Law was of seeing you sleep soundly as a normal occurrence, and being able to touch more of you, craving the affection more than sex (tho that is something he also wants)

Both of you are Touch Starved and move apart more slowly than was normal and both of you thought about it constantly until the next touch

Because of this, personal space starts to be shared (standing with arms brushing, leaning over shoulders, sitting with thighs touching) but using hands seems to be where you two falter

This goes on for awhile before Law decides to advance things, wanting to help your shared loneliness

Making it be about physical needs over emotional ones is easier for him to admit so he goes that route

You’re about to leave his office to head to bed but he stops you by telling you to wait a moment

You turn around to wait for whatever he has to say, watching him get up from his spot to go over to you. You are shocked however when he keeps walking right into your bubble and stalks forward while you back up until he has you trapped against the door

He was looking into your eyes the whole way and you have to look up when he stops so you can keep eye contact while he looms over you

He watches you intently, trailing two fingertips along your jaw from one ear down to your chin, when he passes that he turns his hand over to brush the back of it against the opposite cheek. The caress ends with your chin propped on his index finger, his thumb teasing your bottom lip back and forth. Both of you are caught in a trance the whole time, breathing soft and shallow for fear of breaking the moment.

“Are you still lonely?” “I… yes, Captain” “Me too” He swoops down to replace his thumb with his lips

The kiss is slow and savoring, but also tentative and shallow. He’s holding your shoulders and you’re standing stiff, again both of you afraid the other will bolt at any moment

He separates but is only able to let himself get far enough to breathe, your lips still tickling each other and being warmed by each other’s breaths. Both of you still have your eyes closed, fearing that opening them will wake you from this dream. You feel his lips when he asks, “Still?” You push through your nerves and the feeling that you’ll fuck this up somehow to reach for him. He shivers when he feels your fingers through his shirt as you take a fistful of it. You give it a nervous tug and say, “Yes.” He’s back on you, forceful and needy, pulling you into him like you’ll disappear

You begin sleeping with each other to feel less alone. It’s needy and passionate and over time it becomes more and more vulnerable. It’s not all you do (you keep up the quiet time), nor is he kicking you out once the deeds done but there’s an unspoken rule not to talk about What It Means

First Heat ft Shachi and Penguin (ABO) NSFW

Originally was gonna be Law's section of the ABO series but I couldn't resist adding Shachi and Penguin so it's probably best if it's its own thing.

Summary:

A supply run being pushed back has left you with no other choice but to have your first heat on the Polar Tang. You've been hiding your status for safety in the pirate life more than for fear of being kicked from the crew. Your life has left you with a healthy fear of alphas finding your status however so only three of the betas know - Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku. In order to avoid facing the reality of the situation, you've been putting off prepping for your heat, so when it begins to set in early from the stress Shachi and Penguin scramble to help hide and provide for you.

Law forces them to show him where they've been hiding you. Law quickly falls into being as out of his mind as you are when he enters the room you've holed up in. Shachi and Penguin enter too to try and encourage him out but Law will not be removed from you. They're stuck there with the both of you as you try to adjust to sharing your heat and the rut it's pulling from Law, creating a mess of dominance and desire between the four of you.

Malicious Compliance NSFW

Notes/Plans:

Law - “I want this place clean enough I could eat off the floor” Reader does an immaculate job and leaves him his favorite food but left on the middle of the floor, maybe with a note that says “I even made time to whip you up something”

Tells you to stop tying your jumpsuit around your hips (it distracts him), you move to your waist first then when thats not enough you fully cover and make sure to ask permission each time you need to take off your jumpsuit, including each time you’re going to change for bed, phrasing it as “permission to disrobe” to see him fluster

You’re one of the ones on supply run in town - law is focusing on specifically restocking the medical supplies so you ask if he wants you to grab him anything and he’s dismissive in waving you off, saying “don’t bother”. You give everyone in the crew a little something except him (he realizes that he did say he didn’t want anything but it still hurts). When he returns to his room that night he finds a bag hanging from his door with a thoughtful fandom gift and a note “doesn’t count - it wasn’t a bother”

He tells you not to spend so much time with Luffy’s crew on this next meetup lest they influence you so you spend the whole time with Luffy (“what you said his crew-“) and Law feels jealous at the more boisterous side of you Luffy can easily pull out that he just doesn’t have the right personality for and it’s only rubbed in by you happily picking up Luffy’s nickname for him. It feels like a taunt every time you use it. After a few days of you using it (you love the excuse to be more openly warm and teasing with him) he snaps at you that it’s not his name. You go through a few more iterations of not quite his name, landing on Cap as a disrespectful version of his title, before he snaps

“I’m gonna fuck you until the only thing you can say is my name”

“Now you know just a fraction of how insane you make me feel”

“You could tell how fucked I am for you couldn’t you? Thought it would be funny to play with me and my feelings?” “No-” “Then why? You poke and you prod and you tease as if I’m not already incapable of thinking of anything but you. You could just look at me and you’re the only thing that exists.”

“You think you’re so clever huh? Let’s fuck that smart mouth stupid”

Shanks

Drunken Courage NSFW

Snippet:

Drinking with Shanks and the crew is nothing new to you. While you are more of an explorer than a pirate, you have tagged along with them on many adventures. At first it was simply because your aims aligned and your skills mutually benefited each other. That driving force, along with a lot of fortunate coincidence, carried your relationship along for quite a while, until you found yourself keeping tabs on him and adjusting your path so it wouldn’t stray too far from his. You’re pretty sure you’ve done it gradually enough for it to not be noticed (though Beckmann seems to be onto you - nothing gets by that man), or at least it’s escaped Shanks’ notice because he’s yet to poke fun at it.

No, instead he’s playing his usual game of pretending three shots is deep enough into his drinking to get affected. If the tales from crew mates of his legendary tolerance weren’t enough to expose him, then his mediocre acting skills would be. You’d have to rat that out to your other favorite drinking buddy. He didn’t particularly like hearing about your red-headed pal, but a bitch-fest did get him giggling enough to turn as red as his nose.

Despite the fact that you and the entire crew knew of Shanks’ game, you all still go on letting him play it. What’s the harm? And all of you were curious as to where he’d go with it. You had some idea; you’d have to be legendarily dense to not notice that it was an excuse to share your personal space, but the further “why” escaped you. Why did he want your touch? He could be a fan of physical affection who didn’t feel comfortable coming right out with it to you. That in itself was strange. You knew he had no trouble engaging women with sweet talk and caresses to tempt them for more, so why were you different? Was he unsure because he wanted the touches to stay platonic or did he truly find you intimidating? You found that idea positively ridiculous - Shanks could bring a legion down with his willpower alone.

One thing you were certain of was that he wanted your touch; he’d sprinkle himself on the others around but he’d glaze himself onto you, leaning and laying and resting and holding but just barely playing with the line of romantic touches. That circled you right back to the question of where he wanted it to go.

You had nurtured too much affection for this man and his many layers to halt your relationship at ‘bedmates’. Months into your relationship you would have happily skipped into bed with him, back when you only saw him as a silly man with too much power for anyone who breezed so flippantly through life. The year after that had you watching that veneer become transparent and show more serious aims and opinions from him. It made you pick over how much of it was genuine and worry about why he would want you to be so disarmed by his outward nature. You settled on it being a purposeful choice on what part of himself to highlight and not a false identity to hide behind.

Once you were decided on that, it was over for you. You loved a man who could bring a calm joy to your life and Shanks had the added benefit of knowing exactly when you needed him to get serious. The few times your vulnerability had broken through, he had treated you with care and respect. The way he made you feel safe and cared for in those times melted you and had you irrevocably hooked. It made it easy to see why his crew followed him with such devotion, and you’re positive you’d do the same if he’d just ask it of you.

He wasn’t very great at asking these things of you though, if his drunken farce was anything to go by.

He was sat with you on a small bench he had brought out to share while he had helped set up earlier. Using his talent to notice details, he set a thick woven blanket on the bench as a cushion, set a softer and thinner one within reach (on the opposite side of the fire so that it could be properly used as a barrier to the heat without already being warmed itself), and placed a small table on your side so you wouldn’t have to put yours on the floor if you tired of holding it. All were little gestures that had your heart skipping giddily since

Beckman was the one who pointed for you to watch Shanks at work from your position on the top deck. You were unaware that Beckman was meant to be distracting you from his task - orders from Shanks himself. Beckman figured a little insubordination would be fine if it would finally get the fucking ball rolling. In an attempt to make sure it stayed rolling instead of crashing and burning, Beckman decided to offer a little advice.

“Don’t make too big a deal of it, he’ll scurry away.” There was a dry humor to his words but enough seriousness to you to know he meant it.

“As if I could scare that man,” you huffed. “Besides the drink and fire will draw him back if he does scuttle off.”

“You don’t scare him, but I’ll be damned if feelings don’t,” Beckman explained. “And before you argue with me - look.”

He jutted his chin back in Shanks’ direction just in time for you to see the careful way he was fussing with the blanket on your side. He would massage and nudge it slightly before testing it out and repeating. He got through that maybe four times before his face lit up with pride, showing that eye-crinkling, cheek-splitting, shiny-toothed smile that made you weak. There was a short moment before he joined the swirling crew to help with the rest where his face became achingly tender with affection while taking in the spot you would sit.

“Well maybe it’s more of a commitment fear. There are times even I can’t figure out the ridiculous parts of his brain,” Beckman sighed.

“That’s a shame ‘cause I had a ring picked out and everything,” you facetiously mourned. “Even started thinking of dress silhouettes. You think mermaid or a-line would fit him better?”

“Go ball gown; he’ll be insufferable if he gets to show off his figure,” Beckman warns seriously.

“He’s fun when he’s insufferable,” you giggled lovingly.

Beckman looked over to see your expression matching the one just seen on his captain and barely reigned in the urge to drag you to him and knock your heads together. He was very practiced in his restraint; this was the eighteenth time today alone that he had to exercise it. The crew all got their practice with it, but most found Shanks’ show too amusing to want to expedite the experience.

Lifetimes of Summer

Shanks is very tied to this song in my brain for some reason. I have lots of personal ties from a few happy memories in childhood to the imagery in the song too, so I feel I have to do something with it. This thing, as with many of these, has been marinating forever 💀🤡

Snippet:

I died happy in my sleep

He never thought he would make it this far. Given his lifestyle, he thought it would end early and abruptly, explosively and violently. Even when he held the power to make legions kneel at a look, death sat watching him in his periphery and he had long since accepted its inevitability. He wasn’t wrong about the certainty of its due payment, but he was very wrong about its patience. Death waited long for him, letting him build decades of life around adventure, adrenaline, leisure, and love. They wore into his body not like waves on crags but as hands on leather, getting softer and more perfectly fitted with each caress.

My children around and you looking down

As his body lay still, the decades came to him in hands. Hands large and strong, delicate and manicured, warm and cold and soft and cracked and loving - always loving. Hands grasped him and stretched before departure, wanting to hold on forever. A hand kept from him in a thick glove laid on his cheek, before disappearing and returning to share its calluses and wrinkles. Many more came to brush and pass over him, record him against their skin and speak feelings his ears could no longer hear. He marveled especially at the many hands smaller than his, most of which could have hid under his palm and one that could only manage to hold his finger. He yearned to know how the years would shape them, but easily let his last desire go when he remembered the hands he didn’t feel.

Now the time stands still

His eyes finally work again and the light is blinding. He squints against it, hoping other things will come in to fill the vast white. His other senses fill in before his eyes adjust - creaking wood and washing water reach his ears, familiar sea salt is in his nose and on his tongue, beaming heat is softened by a loving breeze on his skin. Large bright blurs dim and sharpen and the only one that registers anymore is the one that takes your form. His heart pounds harder with each detail that comes into clear focus, his favorite being your face, looking exactly as it did after first saying “I love you”. He’s forgotten to breathe - he needs to do that again? - and his legs waver under him, knees weak at seeing you again.

He gets you for nights and days, seasons come and gone, and each of time’s cycles, but all lacking the symptom of age.

And there they are, your hands, warm and gentle on his own. He stares into your wet eyes and shaking smile while he reacquaints to your skin. His grip settles around your wrists, searching for one last mark of certain life. A steady beat plays against his trembling fingertips and you both finally weep out your joy.

Young, Dumb, and Full of- NSFW

Summary:

Shanks’ 20s were treating him quite kindly. Despite only being halfway through them, he’s filled out his crew, traipsed most of the Grand Line and four seas, and made quite the name for himself. He’s sure that, if given another decade on the seas, he could secure his spot as a yonko.

His determination and travails haven’t kept him from wandering or indulging his whims. What kind of pirate would he be if he forgot the lessons Roger taught him and fell only into diligent avarice? He made sure that he and his loved ones indulged in life heartily as they sought their prizes and purpose. After all, a happy future won’t come at the cost of never enjoying the present.

And enjoy he did, finding adventure, treasure, acclaim, challenge, and a fix for every appetite. Though recently one appetite was left wanting. Not for a lack of trying, but Shanks bed felt empty. No body warming it not his skin felt quite right. Sure, he had fun and got a quick fix, but each one left him feeling slightly more hollow. The turn to this confused him, as he hasn’t come across this problem in his years of enjoying others. He’d be lying if he said there weren’t two who stood out above the rest in sating him. It was why that was the case that confounded him.

Luckily, he has Beckman there to help steer him towards his answer. They both shared a wide appetite for women, yet with such different approaches and results. There always seemed to be a true affection warming between Beckman and his partners that the sparking lust of Shanks' exploits didn't match. How he managed to kindle such embers, Shanks had no clue. Maybe some direction will help him finally sink his teeth into a real meal, the kind that left you warm and sleepy. And maybe if he's really lucky then he can get the platter that's had his mouth watering for awhile now; you.

Corazon

Little Something (undecided on NSFW)

Summary:

He's pretty sure that your heart belongs to another but he'll take any of your attention he can get. Besides, he started this purely aiming for your friendship and he cherishes it so deeply.

Mihawk

A Light in Dark Places (will include NSFW)

Summary:

Reader is an organ and piano technician restoring all the instruments in Kuraigana Castle. The largest project is the heavily damaged organ that used to be the crown jewel of the concert hall. Proximity love, as slow burn as I can manage, depressed reader, so much yearning, sharing a bed/semi-one bed trope, love is found in helping each other connect to living. Snippet of first chapter below.

Snippet:

“Little Mouse.”

A hollow metallic thunk rang loudly through the empty concert hall, announcing the warlord like a ceremonial gong.

“Son of a cunt! God fucking-” a flurry of expletives helped fill the grande room, tapering off in time with the pure tone of the struck pipe.

Mihawk watched with masked amusement as you crawled out from the entrance to the innards of Kuraigana’s pipe organ. He did have some pity for the undoubtedly throbbing spot you held on the crown of your head; he wasn’t heartless. His shielded empathy was far from the list of traits he wanted his name to evoke, however. Along with that fact, that empathy did nothing to taint the entertainment he found from the size of your entryway; it was much more suited for five year olds than a fully grown adult. It made it wondrously impossible for anyone to enter and exit with anything other than ungainly fumbling at best. You were still on hands and knees when you first addressed your employer.

“Hello, Lord Dracule,” you huffed, mostly from exasperation at yourself for how well this interaction had started. You gave him a tired nod of your head, before turning and placing the nearby wood panel back to seal and disguise the entryway. You cursed the designer on each entry and exit; was the seam of a door so bad that they had to resort to this?

“I thought you’d heard my steps when I came in,” Mihawk stated with one minutely raised brow. He and his expression looked all the more imperious casting a shadow from so far above you.

You answered first with a good-natured laugh at your own expense. Brushing off the knees of your pleated trousers, you stood to feel at least a little more ready to address the lord of the castle. Re-rolling the cuffs of your long-rumpled button-up gave you a place to put your nervous energy while you made to straighten your spine and square your shoulders.

“You know how I can get when I’m at work, my lord,” you spoke through an apologetic smile. You took a moment to rub your aching eyes before meeting his gaze again. “Nothing short of an invasion would’ve caught my attention.”

“Or a nickname apparently,” He drawled, feeling teasing but sounding condescending. He didn’t like the responding flinch in your smile. It was minuscule, but it was still there. His brow changed to furrow when he saw the light sway to your posture.

Nami

Enjoying the Enabling NSFW

Summary:

Ever since you've set eyes on Nami all you've wanted to do is spoil her rotten. Nothing beats the shine in her eyes when you hand her something or do something for her and she just looks so cute with that cheeky smile when she shows off her new treasures. The thank you kisses don't hurt either, though you dream of the day they wander from their spot on your cheek. All that daydreaming is having you miss how Nami likes her things best when she can share them with you, so she decides to see if you'll recognize your own love language better.

Cross Guild

Why's HE the Favorite? NSFW

Overview/outline:

Mihawk and Croc forcing Buggy to fuck you in front of them thinking it would be humiliating to him, but he gets off on it and it’s not humiliating at all because he knows very well how to please you. They get wrapped up in watching - Mihawk petting your hair and holding your hands, Croc making you suck on his fingers and playing with your ability to breathe, Croc using his hook to drag your thighs wider, Mihawk sucking dark marks into your neck. After your highs and how much the others enjoyed watching you, Buggy is flying high on rare confidence and offers to the others if they’d like to have a try making you feel that good.

Mihawk goes first, steady and meticulous, focused on keeping you present and feeling him everywhere, building a climax slowly. He's ardent in a way that's completely foreign to you, even the simplest caress brimming with underlying energy and passion. He has you completely surrounded, hands brushing and massaging every inch of skin they can reach, lips and tongue you both in slowly sharing taste and leaving loving trails over your face, eyes always coming back to soak in your every reaction and trap you to him. When your climax finally crests, it grips you from head to toe and you cling to him and call his name, but your hands and eyes still seek Buggy.

Croc goes next and works at getting you close over and over again only to laugh at your whining when he keeps you from cumming. The stretch also has you maddened and plays just right with your cervix, feeling beautifully overwhelming so you need Buggy to keep you comforted through it. Croc commands Buggy to choke you and when he finally lets you cum he tells Buggy to let go, you’re absolutely thrashing and crying for this one and near painfully gripping down on Croc. You beg him to cum - you want to feel full and focus on that instead of the overwhelming pleasure, you snuggling into his hand and begging him with teary eyes fucks him up and he cums. Buggy sends a hand to rub gently at your clit and that throws you over a final time. Mihawk is touching you gently the whole time and praising you. Croc is holding you possessively, unwilling to let go. You’re babbling “thank you”s swapping between grabbing at each of them, but it’s Buggy who you pull in to kiss and nuzzle.

The other two seek your affection - their true purpose for this encounter coming to light. Croc leaving kisses from your ankle up your calf and caressing your hips, gently rubbing the sore joints, Mihawk is entwining your free hand with his, pressing it lovingly to his face before kissing your fingertips and palm and wrist, you give little shows of appreciation to them, but your dopey smile and lovesick eyes always go back to your dear clown.

Sweet-Scented Secrets (Truth Potion Series)

A magical vendor you (sort of) trust sells you a perfume meant to make someone confess. Inspired by this vid where a dude is testing a perfume then just starts opening up about some out of pocket shit 💀 Character list is very fluid right now - will include the usual favs and fold in any that spark my interest or in the case anyone else is interested. Below is a good chunk from the intro/set-up.

Snippet:

You would’ve had to have been blind or willfully, stubbornly ignorant to see that woman and think anything other than “witch”. Feathers and beads were tied in her dark hair, swaying in time with her vertebrae earrings on each turn of her head to watch passersby. You kept your eyes to them as you approached her, feeling unsettled and intrigued by the strange decorations. Shortly after you began heading towards her, her face snapped to you and she zeroed in, making you feel like a rabbit stalled before a fox. When she stood from her seat and sashayed over to greet you in front of her stall, you realized she was barefoot, sporting wood and leather anklets instead of shoes. The music they beat with each of her steps and the open smile that warmed her face eased you just a bit.

“Hello, sweet thing,” she greeted, the cheery tone of her voice ringing out the pet name. “I can help you find just what you need. The coven and I have built a stock to aid any situation, including yours.”

As she leaned forward in a semblance of a bow, you noticed her large necklace of braided bramble (Thorns still on? you noticed incredulously) hung low, holding dried roses in front of her cleavage. The languid way it followed her matched the nature of the scant drapings of deep red and dirty beige fabric, which hung on her in the vague shape of a summer dress. She held out her suntanned arms, palms up to ask for your hands. Having her this close nearly made you step back; something unnatural lived in the air around her and her tawny eyes saw right through doors and walls and words and skin. Feeling hesitant, you continued to meet her gaze and only offered a mumbled greeting.

“Come now, let me have your hands,” she encouraged gently. “They’ll tell me what you need.”

“How are they supposed to do that?” you asked curtly. “And I usually like knowing someone’s name before hand-holding.”

“Call me Pythia,” she chimed immediately, still holding her bent posture and asking hands. “I don’t have the time to explain the hands. I promise I won’t keep them though.” She giggled at her own… joke? You were hoping that was a joke. You eyed the peeks of death behind her (articulated bugs here, bones there, jarred creatures, hides, blood-) that made all the pretty wares around them seem tainted.

Watching her laugh was the first time you noticed the knack her loving smile had for curling into something more impish, cluing you in that she knew something you didn’t. Despite this making her feel even more dangerous to interact with, you put your hands in hers.

“Thank you, lovely,” Pythia said, voice heavy with a gratefulness that didn’t seem to fit the moment to you. While she cradled your hands, you cautiously took in the many carved rings and bangles of stone, leather, metal, and bone that decorated her own.

That caution had rooted itself to you and was very stubbornly sticking to your feelings about her wares. Besides the perfume, you had purchased an herbal pouch to hang over your bed, meant to aid with ease and depth of sleep. The first night you noticed your mind was much calmer than its usual anxious whirring before bed. The second night you listened to the first of her instructions and took ten deep breaths through your nose against the sigil-embroidered pouch. Your sleep came mere minutes after taking in the floral and earthy scent. It had you decide to try out the full instructions, adding on asking the herbs for good rest, placing a gentle kiss to the sigil, and sealing it with a long press of your forehead to the marking. You slept like the dead.

The success had you brainstorming on how to make it back to her in a few months, as she had warned you that the effects will fade with use. It has only been three weeks since your first full ritual with the pouch and you can already feel it start to wane just a bit. You mourned this morning when the sun through your window had actually managed to rouse you from sleep. When you were grumpily blinking at the bright light, you had noticed the perfume bottle still sitting untouched next to the beaming light.

If the pouch worked then shouldn’t this?

ABO Series NSFW

You've been hiding your omega status but circumstance outs you to them. Sometimes it's your heat, sometimes their rut, but it always ends in you being overwhelmed with the need for each other.

Group 1

Buggy

Full heat

The small town that is the base for Buggy's Delivery is finally settled

You're long overdue for a heat, knowing you've been pushing your body by keeping so hard at the suppressants for so long

The heat would be hell, but it would be way worse if you kept this going until your body forced it on you anyway

You take finally staying in an established place, especially one that allows you far more privacy than a ship, as a sign that it's time to bite the bullet

Thinking Buggy was still too busy with running things (and largely waving other people off to take care of it for him), you just pulled back your presence and hunkered down to ride this out instead of trying to come up with a full excuse

Buggy was very much not too busy to notice your presence lacking in his days, and he noted it with increasing worry and frustration

Did he upset you? Were you disappointed in this whole business? Was he disappointing you?

That last thought scared him too deeply so it was quickly covered with 'how dare you just run off and ignore him like your time together meant nothing?!'

He storms to your corner of the hideout, primed and ready to scream you an earful. He pounds at your door to no response until knowing you're on the other side acting like he doesn't exist enrages him enough to kick the door in

He inhales to yell but deflates completely when he's hit with a wall of sweet and musky heat that somehow also smells deliciously like you and he almost can't believe it until he sets eyes on you and is struck with how you've put every single one of his fanatsies to shame with how you look

Croc

Pre-heat

You knew Croc kept a good eye on you but you underestimated him

You didn't underestimate his acumen, no you underestimated just how closely he watched you, missing that his eyes on you were absolutely obsessive

It does take a long while (longer than he'd like to admit) but he does find out why your status struck him as odd. Your act was good but he could in fact sniff out that it was an act

The moment he finds out that the act is hiding your omega status for fear of your safety (proof found when he finds out about your suppressants) he's setting a trap for you

He intercepts your suppressants and replaces them with sugar pills, enjoying his game as he watches you try to keep up your farce while your hormones trickle back in

He didn't think it possible but each compounding show of your born status has him needing you just that much more

That should've been his sign that this ploy could have him lose himself too, but he was too consumed with thinking of you to consider it

He thinks he has you right where he wants you when you begin to go into pre-heat, but when he's in front of you, he's the first one to become fully helpless to their instincts

Mihawk

Full rut

Trying to deal with his rut alone as he often does but he's in agony

He thinks of calling past rut partners but the thought of touching any of them is making his skin crawl

Slowly his instincts eat away at his higher decision making and he's leaving his rut room before he's even thought of getting up

He's propelled by his need, feet guiding him towards a promised relief that only takes the blurry shape of kind hands and intelligent eyes

A familiar scent manages to make him both relieved and starved at the same time

His eyes finally focus and see your face, frozen in shock and concern

With each step towards you, your scent begins to sweeten and musk and the panic in your face heightens but all he can think is of his need to touch, taste, feel, and own every inch of you

Shanks

Pre-rut

It's hitting him different than it usually does, heightening his aggression more than his lust

The lust is still there under the current but the way he can't detach it from you only has his temper quicken

He doesn't feel right propositioning you as you've become part of the crew and he also worries about hurting a beta with an aggressive rut

Your instincts however have been telling you to soothe and care for him despite his increasingly prickly demeanor and you keep searching for whats wrong until he finally snaps at you

With his uncharacteristically frayed patience in the wake of his body's turmoil, some of his conquerors haki slips into his command for you to just stop

It has you drop to your knees and in your hazy consciousness you begin to feel your body warm, propelled by the stress and a command from the alpha you've been yearning for

The moment he smells the heat on you he snatches you away for himself

Beckman

Pre-heat

You’ve been on suppressants too long so they begin failing

You’d been hovering around him as of late, a lil more touchy than you’d ever been

You’ve taken to wearing scent covering perfume

While it’s nice, he’s yearning for your scent again

You take a sudden 180 and he doesn’t see you for a day and a half

When he sees you again, you’ve hidden yourself in his sheets, curled around some shirts you’ve pulled from his laundry

You’ve got obvious patches on, cluing him in to the situation as if your obvious nesting and flush weren’t enough

You’re in your right mind just enough to convince him you do want this

One thing that helped convince him was the hovering behavior

Beckman is heavily interested and trying to hold himself back despite your scent not being out to influence him yet

That changes when you rip one of the patches off of your neck (“smell how much I need you”) and he’s immediately on you

Group 2

Luffy

Full Heat

You were separated on an island and ran out of suppressants

he finds you holed up in heat and it triggers his first real rut since he first presented

Luffy as an alpha never really reacted to omegas

Chopper knows you’re an omega and tries to only let those who wouldn’t be affected by your heat search for you and he wrongly includes Luffy in that group

Zoro

Pre-heat

he got you both trapped with a wrong turn in some ruins

normally you’d be making the decisions instead of him but your pre-heat is setting in

the increasing close proximity is just making it worse, enough that your scent starts to leak through your blocking underwear with the slick

Sanji

Pre-rut

Pre-rut brain has him snoop through your stuff

He wants your scent to get off and comfort him through his rut

He ends up finding patches and scent blocking underwear

Ace

Full Rut

he’s in the rut room on the ship and you’r sent in to check on him because he’s doing really awful

as the closest “beta” to him, you’re the smart choice except you’re fully an omega, who already struggles with their instincts around him

you figure an omega might help his rut calm down and Ace might keep your secret (especially if you offer the leverage of becoming his rut partner?)

Sabo

Pre-Rut

he’s gotten obsessive in his pre-rut, sticking to you like glue

He convinces you for some physical touch for comfort and finds your patches on your body

in his desperation he can’t keep from ripping them off and burying himself in your scent, nor can he stop his hips from rutting into you the whole process

He goes to mouthing at your glands immediately and begging to mate you

Koby

Pre-Heat

finds you because he’s checking in on your “rut”

you’ve been posing as an alpha, you find the role easy to play most of the time as you’ve become used to overcompensating for your status and you hoped it would help ease you up the ranks

He’s just one step above you in rank (something Helmeppo won’t let you forget) so he’s your captain both directly and in marine rank and feels the need to make sure you’re okay

when he goes to check in and you violently fly to the door to close it he gets worried but the broken voice you use to tell him to leave is what makes him do otherwise - he’s never heard you sound so pathetic and it had his instincts kick up in a need to protect you

he barges in despite your protests and the smell hits him like a ton a bricks, the sweet alpha gets aggressive with you for the first time (‘why won’t you just fucking let me take care of you for once”)

Group 3

Doffy

Full Heat

He's had you locked away for awhile, keeping you from your suppressants (unknowingly), when he checks on you again you’re already in heat

Cora

Pre-Rut

seeks you out because you’re his favorite and his brain is telling him you’re who he needs for his rut, he’s already pretty far gone but when it triggers your omega scent he’s gone

Law

Full heat

Thought you were leaving the crew for the Straw Hats (you were holing up with them for a heat)

Thinks you don't trust him because you've refused most medical attention from him yet you're fine with Chopper

The problem was that you're reactive to him and his recent rut had you burn through your supply of suppressants

Kid

Full Rut

You’re the ship doc and need to check on his rut because its going bAD and despite taking precautions and doing fine with all the other ruts it throws you right into a heat the moment he’s on you

Killer

Pre-Heat

you got real injured in a reckless fight the crew got in, docs been keeping your secret but Killer finds out when he’s checking on you

Group 4

Aiming to contain Katakuri, Lucci, Garp, Roger, and Rayleigh

Thank you if you've made it this far cuz damn lol

If you like any of these snips enough to read them again I’d suggest saving them, lest my propensity to delete my posts make them disappear. Honestly if you like any of my fics enough for another read I’d suggest saving them what with the long struggled debate of nuking my presence becoming a more and more tempting idea - to let like a percent of the Edge out, a bitch is disgraced with her own existence and proof of my failing at it sucks to see 💀 thus ~delete~ inclination lol sorry for the Hot Topic Moment, I hope you managed to enjoy!

#buggy x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #one piece x reader #wips #sir crocodile x reader #law x reader #doflamingo x reader #x reader #reader insert #my writing #writers block

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apocalypse-shuffle · 2 years

Text

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (generalized canon)

────────────────────

“Lick” (Jason Todd x Fem!Reader)

| Jason rushes to pay you a little visit.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, cunnilingus, fwb to more, Dick Grayson has a big mouth

| 1k+ words

| One last treat from me for Halloween! Happy Spooky Season!

Jason has you on your knees, arms crossed over the back of the couch, and mewling into the bend of your folded limbs.

It’s not fair. An hour out of his patrol, time where he was supposed to be debriefing with the Bats, and instead he’d slipped through your window and dropped to his knees for you like a man starved.

Jason didn’t always start a whole conversation when you guys met unplanned like this, but it was uncommon for him to not chat you up at least a bit before reducing you to thin gasps.

You moan, muscles in your legs straining due to the way you’re writhing against the broad strokes of his tongue. He might’ve switched up on you but it was a great switch.

“S-shit Jay,” you pant. He groans a muffled ‘mhm’ into your folds before tightening his grip on you and bearing you down on his face.

The lingering keen that move pulls from you is not voluntary.

The heat that travels up the low of your stomach has your brown skin glistening and chest heaving. Clearly Jason was on a fucking mission. Your toes curl, and Jason undoubtedly notices how close you are because he starts moaning like it’s his clit being abused, and then your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Your orgasm crashes through you so suddenly that in order to not wake your whole floor you’re forced to bite into the couch cushion. Moaning and desperately grinding down on him all the while.

Your legs lock together as you cum, only not crushing Jason’s head because of the vice-like grip he’s got on them. Glutton for punishment he is though, you don’t think he’d mind much if they were actually squeezing around him. But that was something to bring up later when you weren’t full body shuddering through catching your breath.

“What,” you gasp. “Was that for?”

Jason, who for all intents and purposes hasn’t moved, barely responds. He’s too busy licking the cum from your dark lips and making chills run up your spine from the oversensitivity. Your only saving grace is that even with him occasionally dipping into the pink of your vagina to hungrily lap up your juices he at least wasn’t still attacking your bud like it personally betrayed him.

Eventually he hums from between your trembling legs, gives two more long broad swipes up your pussy that make your breath hitch, presses a kiss to your clit, and then pulls himself away. The cool air hitting your skin is a disappointing but instant balm, however, so at least there’s that.

You managed to get the question out but whether post-nut clarity would’ve hit in time for you to elaborate on it is a different thing entirely. It’s for the best. With a sigh you turn around.

The large man’s just kneeling on the floor, and still tasting you on his tongue if the delirious look in his eyes is anything to go by. Despite your confusion it makes you smile.

“Jay? You gonna answer me?”

He licks his lips slowly and drags his gaze up, taking his time unashamedly going over your naked form, till you lock eyes. It’s a little intense. His eyes are usually blue with flecks of green swirling around in them but the green overwhelms his eyes whenever he’s amped up, the last remnants of the pit within him. It’s teal that bores into your brown and you shiver.

The shrug he gives you is so nonchalant it throws you off for a second and you find yourself giving an amused scoff.

“Dick told me something earlier,” he rumbles. It’s because he was just neck deep in your pussy you know that but shit if it doesn’t make your face heat up.

A nod from you and he keeps talking, clearing his throat.

“You told him we were -ah- seeing each other?”

Oh. Oh.

The veil of blissful release leaves you in seconds and you sit up fully with a wave of your hands. In your rush the tentative (because of a certain jackass interrupting your night routine) hold your bonnet has on your head gives way and the satin lands in a heap beside you.

“Shit! I’m sorry Jay, I just responded I wasn’t even thinking. It’s just we have technically been seeing each other for a while and it slipped out…”

At the look on his face you trail off. He’s smiling. At you. Not with his I’m-deflecting-and-full-of-shit smile either.

A small quirk of his lips and then he eases out of the kneel and into your space in one effortless swoop.

“I’m not mad or anything,” he shrugs and glances away. “Just- you meant it right?”

You let out a puff of air and your own smile rises, pulse ratcheting down. “Yeah I meant it, you fucking dork. I claim you once and you rush to make me cum?”

Jason rises with a huff of laughter, hands wrapping around your waist and gliding over your rich skin with the tenderness someone might handle porcelain figurines. The sharp urge to kiss him makes itself known and you don’t fight it, bending down to meet him halfway like you need it to survive.

The way your lips connect makes your heart fucking flutter and you can’t be alone in that if the smile you can feel pressed against your mouth has any say.

How he looks at you when you separate, hard gaze gone soft, is even better.

“I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate it,” he inclines his head. “And you.”

Jesus, this man was gonna make you pass out if he kept making your heart flip like this.

“Well consider me very appreciated, Jay,” you peck him on the lips before huffing and moving to shove at his shoulder. He doesn’t remotely budge but it’s the principle of the matter. “Now go clean up and get to your debriefing, you know how Bruce gets.”

Jason rolls his eyes as he rocks back and runs his hand through his hair, white streak catching briefly.

“B can kiss my ass,” the smile he throws your way this time is tinged with suggestion as his voice drops. “I have way better things to be doing right now, Beautiful.”

A cool wonderful thrill goes up your spine at the promise in his gaze but you refuse to get caught up in it. So what if the way you kiss him after is a little desperate. He’s earned it.

“As amazing as that sounds,” you say against his lips, hand holding onto his jaw so he won’t chase your mouth for any more. “It’s not happening until I know I can thank you properly without a bat or a bird scratching at my window. Understood?”

He groans and gives you a pleading look you know you’ll be drawing out of him later, but you only press another kiss to the tip of his nose before pushing his face away from you.

“Oh, come on!” He gets up and leaves though. Eventually, and with a hard on after you’ve made out for twenty more minutes and damn near made him cum in his pants.

NOTES: as per usual hope you enjoyed! (ps: I rewrote it just a little since I had to rushed to get it out on Halloween but, yeah. I needed to add the flavor real quick.)

EDIT: Slightly rewritten again on 1/17/23❤️

#jason todd #red hood #black!reader #black y/n #jason todd x black!reader #red hood x black!reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #x black!reader #red hood imagine #18+#jason todd smut

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libraford · 1 month

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Idk maybe it's because I'm autistic and don't get how things are supposed to work (I also haven't been able to work for over a decade due to disability so take this all with a heap of salt) but it feels like she needs someone to blame for problems.

You said last year there were three leads but this year you're doing the work of three on your own. Did they quit or get fired? Maybe someone else was the assigned "problem child" last year? But the fact that you didn't get any useful feedback at the times problems supposedly happened and they continued using your work...it just reads like a power trip on her end tbh

One of them left to become a veterinarian and do photography on the side. The other one of them left because there was a pretty big death in the family and also oldest kid was going through his senior year. Both have said that they might come back, but so far neither of them have committed.

The two of them were nearly perfect leads. Like they did all the paperwork properly and had all the details right and they didn't rush and they rarely did anything wrong.

Except when they did. And since I learned from one of them, I learned on all of her mistakes.

So I've had to be retrained.

Again and again and again.

There would typically only be one lead per job, so its not like I'm doing the work of three people the way I was doing the work of like... 7 people at the flower shop. I am still doing the work of one person, but I am doing it every day instead of only two to three times a week.

So the mistakes I learned are more obvious now and I am put in positions where previously I was not, like having to call as soon as there's a problem- because previously I was not often having these problems. I get dinged for not following procedure for this.

She tried training me on groups last year, but every time there was a chance to learn on the job something interrupted it. The first time it was because the person we had doing individuals was going painfully slowly and she had me set up my unit to clear out the bottleneck. The second time it was because our individuals photographer went into labor.

So I've been trained wrong on a bunch of things and had to be retrained. Attempts to train me properly have been interrupted, but she thinks that I received proper training and that I should be good to go.

So I do it. And I do it wrong. Over and over again.

And then I get the critique and there is disagreement between my boss and her boss about how I'm supposed to have done it.

And then I try again. And there's disagreement between my boss and me about how I was supposed to do it.

So my spirit is fuckin' crushed lately and I just want to get to the end of the season but of course there's YET ANOTHER critique at the end of the year where she says I'm bad at receiving critique when I've had to be retrained several times in several different areas, and she claims that NOTHING HAS CHANGED FROM MY INITIAL TRAINING even though documentably it HAS, which makes me feel like a fucking crazy person for suggesting that its hard to keep up with the changes sometimes.

And she says she's tired of arguing with me about how things are supposed to be done when I'm supposed to KNOW how things are done by now because this is my THIRD year in the business and why am I so argumentative?

At the last groups job, I asked her to help be out a little bit and check my work to make sure I was doing it right. I wasn't even done with the first group and she jumps in and tells me my numbers are wrong, changes it all and that's how we found that the guides were different. But when I talk to her about what made me mad there, she has a different story- she says that I did 2 or 3 classes wrong before she jumped in. Which is not what happened to my recollection.

I've asked her to take a more passive role and she got mad at me because she swears that she did take a passive role and now I'm being inconsistent- because I asked her for help and now I'm asking her not to get her hands in it. So now I'm confused again because I remember that day completely differently, and when I asked the rest of the crew they said that she was being pushy. Once she left and I was on my own, I did fine- but being unable to even get through a whole class without her jumping in to save the day kind of crushed me.

So I think she's misremembering a LOT. And making it my problem for bringing up inconsistencies, confusions, and changes. Either that or I have worse memory problems than I thought I did.

And now I'm being told that I go too fast. Because there were days last season where we were done an entire hour earlier than we were supposed to be. And I asked her- did people complain? Were my photos bad because I was fast?

No, no one complained. We had less retakes this year than we did any year.

If no one complained, then the problem is that I'm not taking time with the students to get the perfect photo. The problem is that you don't think I could possibly be that good and that fast at the same time. But if a kid only needs thirty seconds to get the pose, why should I take more time than is needed?

My photos have improved significantly from my first year. Oh my god, they've improved so much. But I'm struggling to learn a new, complicated thing for which I've gotten mixed messages and not gotten a lot of consistent guidance on.

And because I get confused when something is different from what was described, I am told that I can't take criticism.

Well yeah, no- if that's the criticism you've got for me, no I can't take criticism.

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cross-my-heartt · 15 days

Text

Alright, I’m saying it

I hate what they did with Crosshair in season three

Yes, the entirety of season three, barring maybe only the first three episodes. Let me elaborate.

I’ve been seeing people be more open about criticizing the finale and it’s given me the push to be more open about my own thoughts. And since I still advertise myself as a Crosshair girlie, I think this is a good place to start.

I really honestly don’t like the majority of what they did with Crosshair’s character this season. And yes, that includes the hand tremors. From the myriad things that felt out of character for him to making him a walking exposition dump, to completely stripping him of his more interesting qualities I honestly struggle to see him as the same character I loved right up until the end of season two.

I almost understand why so many people have come around on him – it’s because he’s a completely different character. We’re meant to believe that his time on Tantiss and Hemlock’s attempted reconditioning has changed him as a person. Which is all fine and dandy until you realize that this new character we get feels more like he’s gone through therapy rather than trauma.

New Crosshair is much more agreeable. He’s mild, he rolls over at the first sign of conflict, he talks about his emotions at the drop of a hat and there’s barely any meaningful tension between him and the other characters (not one that’s not forced anyways).

And my question is, why? If we’re just going to use off screen trauma (off. screen. trauma???) to change characters willy nilly then what even is the point of watching a show?

Say I suddenly wanted to make Wrecker this very angry character with a short fuse and I decide that he got an injury off screen that’s causing him chronic pain. It makes sense logically while at the same time making zero sense for him, even less so if you don’t see it play out, because it erases core parts of the character that we already know.

One of the first things Crosshair does in tcw is start a fight. Crosshair has always been a belligerent guy. He literally responds to being hurt by attacking. Where is that combativeness now? I would even go as far as to say that he’s been the primary source of conflict for the group since season one and I don’t even mean that in a bad way. Crosshair bites back. He hides pain by trying to inflict it, he talks back, he challenges, he digs his heels in to the point of proactively making bad life choices.

And the reason why he’s worked so well in this team so far is because his tendencies were counteracted by those around him, right up until the inevitable rift caused by the chip. I could go on about Wrecker and Tech but we all know that the main counterbalance, Crosshair’s foil here, is Hunter. Hunter is supposed to be the one that deescalates, they’ve gotten along so far because he’s the one that handled rising tensions (it’s the reason he’s the leader of their group to begin with. Remember who deescalated that fight in tcw? Remember who started it?) Where Crosshair pushes, Hunter puts a stop to it. Where Crosshair attacks, Hunter deflects, maybe sometimes too much.

And these first two season have felt like they were steadily building towards a confrontation between these two. We wanted Hunter to snap at Crosshair on Pabu because we’ve been craving it. This whole time Crosshair’s been saddled with more and more trauma, unresolved tensions from as far back as season one (which we all seem to have forgotten about as if that story never happened, tldr I’m still bitter no one addressed the Crosshair being abandoned subplot, hello remember that) while the narrative has simultaneously been stripping Hunter of his patience; months of anxiety and frustration and stress chipping away at him and wearing him down so that we can finally get to see these characters clash. The perfect recipe for all of that tension exploding and being set loose.

And what did we get instead?

A tiny little spat. An argument that gets interrupted before fizzling out (because Crosshair can talk about feelings all of a sudden). We got Hunter in the exact right position only for the show to purposefully strip Crosshair of his characteristic belligerence because apparently we don’t want to see any conflict. It’s like they’re teasing us – look Hunter’s on the verge of snapping but Crosshair’s the bigger man now so we don’t get to see that! Why??? What part of that was satisfying?? We got Crosshair pushing back for the tiniest of seconds and resolved two seasons of tension in half an episode. Where they had to fight a giant worm. In what universe is that a satisfying conclusion.

The only reason I can think of is that this mirror development is supposed to be some kind of irony or subversion but honestly that explanation falls so flat in the face of our expectations as an audience.

And the thing is, I think even the authors realized that they had nuked their most intriguing character. Because once they removed his established response to trauma, which was all of those wonderfully complex emotional reactions, they realized they needed to manifest it in some other way. So we got the hand tremors.

Now Crosshair doesn’t get angry or stubborn he just gets jittery. And I know this sounds dismissive but the only reason that is is because the show itself deals with it in a completely ham-fisted and surface-level way.

I hated the hand tremor subplot. Me. Someone who spent two years being disabled because of neural damage to my hands that prevented me from doing the hobbies I used to define myself as a person. Someone who spent two years depressed and dysfunctional because of the loss of identity and purpose I suffered because of that disability.

So no I’m not fucking happy that they used something as serious as ptsd to spice up a character they themselves made bland in the first place. For no reason other than a subplot that went literally nowhere. A subplot that was shish kebabed after an underwhelming fight scene.

Don’t even get me started on the pun level writing of chopping said hand off.

But back to Crosshair… or what’s left of him after this season (see I can make a pun too). Crosshair was already interesting enough as a character without the added hand tremor subplot and I'm dying on that hill.

The thing is, they were so intent on pushing this new, watered down version of Crosshair that even more reasonable, level-headed characters had to be thrown under the bus, made irrationally aggressive next to him to try and make us believe it. I have a lot to say about Howzer this season but the only thing I’ll say for now is that he’s the most prominent victim of this, along with his entire retconned season one plotline.

And speaking of victims, I can’t help but feel like I need to apologize to all the Tech fans out there once again. Because what I think actually happened is that Tech was never the writers’ favorite and was never meant to get any sort of satisfying conclusion.

That was always Crosshair.

The focal point of season one. The most prominent source or drama and conflict. The character who drove the plot forward even when he appeared in a fraction of episodes. The character who got the most development (even if that development spiraled wildly out of control at the end). Nearly every major subplot in this show happened in relation to or in favor of Crosshair’s arc. Tech’s death. Omega’s capture. The CX clones. The hand tremors. All of the meaningful developments and events reserved for two characters in this show, Omega and Crosshair. (Some would argue Hunter as well but really, did Hunter get any development as a character? Spoiler alert, a happy ending is not the same as a character arc.)

My guess is that this was always meant to be the case. The writers just weren’t prepared for the fans’ response to Tech’s death, it caught them off guard, and here’s one more reason why I think creators should stay away from social media or any kind of prolonged fan interaction. Because all it got us in the end was some form of cruel teasing, them trying to ride the wave of attention and thinking their original plans would make up for it when that wave inevitably crashed.

But anyway.

What happens when you dump a bunch of pain and suffering onto a character with a problematic response to adversity? Apparently it makes them emotionally intelligent, at least according to this show. Crosshair in season three feels like a shadow of his former self – the combativeness and complex emotional responses that made him so interesting to begin with are gone, replaced with a ham-fisted manifestation of trauma that gets resolved in an equally ham-fisted way.

And I’m just not on board with that. Nor will I ever be. Even if you give me all the supposed emotional payoffs, hugs or whatever.

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb crosshair #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #tbb season 3 #tbb critical #bad batch critical #this post is a mess but I'm angry and I've had a long day

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isaut · 2 months

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𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓— f!reader x captain rex. 11.1k. ao3

you meet rex on a friday night in a bar. it's the start of a whole lot of coincidences. next. masterlist.

It’s a warm, spring night. The first warm night of the season. The sun still sets early, still leaves the evening blanketed, tucked in. In celebration of the weather’s grace, grace had been extended to the 501st. A night off. A night in their blacks, suits tucked away on their ship.

Naboo’s streets are lined with lamps encased in glass and iron. Intricate designs, ones that were hammered out by grizzled, loving hands generations ago. The streets are cobblestone, not dirt nor concrete. They’re slightly uneven, mined from below the planet’s surface. The favorite of a queen generations ago.

Taking the lead of the group are Fives and Hardcase. Their hands are all over each other: around each other’s necks, shoving each other, playing tag along the winding roads. They’re more like children on these streets, adulthood and responsibilities loosened by the shots taken back at the ship. Flavorless, bright green. From some hole-in-the-wall corner store in Coruscant.

Hardcase darts up the road, ducking behind an intricate column. He’s not well hidden at all, shoulder peeking out from behind. Nonetheless, when Fives walks past and Hardcase jumps on him, the former stumbles, hands stuck between bracing himself from falling and grabbing his brother’s legs to keep him on the piggyback. Instead, they both tumble to the ground, laughing loudly in the night.

The laughter sounds good. It sounds better than the screaming, than the shouting, than the panting, dying breaths that can be heard over the comms.

Tup helps them both up, his hair down and flopping around his jaw. It’s a shaky business, alcohol and giddiness marring all of their veins.

While Rex doesn’t like drinking, isn’t favorable to the warmth from a fresh shot, isn’t favorable to the inhibitions that comes with it, he is favorable to the comfort it brings his brothers. Twelve hours ago he’d been running through dry desert, frantically pulling helmets away from their suits, checking for pulses, holding his own face as the force left their eyes–

“You going to have fun tonight?” Comes a voice from beside Rex. He looks over— Kix. There’s a hair of worry in his eyes, a flash of concern.

Rex clears his throat. Pushes back the thoughts. If he trusted himself more he’d drink.

“I’ll stay out for a while,” Rex replies.

Kix pats his shoulder. No more words are exchanged. No more words need to be exchanged between the two of them.

The trio of stooges stop in their tracks, drawn to a bar. The door opens, and a few women tumble out of it, hair perfectly done and breathless. With them, music wafts out behind them, the acoustic tones shutting with the door. They giggle and wave at the group, one of them pulling a paper pack of cigarettes out of her purse.

Fives waves back. He’s got a not-real grin on his face, one that he thinks is cooler than it is.

“I think we should go here!” Hardcase says, louder than he needs to. Louder than is acceptable in the quiet streets. It earns them a look from some passerby, and a giggle from the tallest of the women.

The name of the bar swings in the warm breeze on a wooden sign, seared into it. Comienzos.

“When we get in, we can do another round of shots!” Hardcase continues. Rex doesn’t think they need another round of shots. But Hardcase’s hands are clapping down, hard, on Rex’s shoulders and shaking him around a bit. “And this time make sure our beloved captain joins in!

“I’m really— I’m fine without one,” Rex insists, waving his brothers off.

“It’s team building!” Hardcase presses. He loops around Rex to be in his face, tilting his head in a way that is probably supposed to be pleading but comes across as childish. “C’mon, you can’t say no to team building.”

Unease churns in Rex’s stomach. Not from the shots, but from imagining Hardcase a little too risky. A little too forward pushing. A little too maniacal. Panting last breaths over the comms.

“Fine. I’ll do one,” Rex bends. He’d regret it. He’d regret not seeing the joy immediately sprawl across his brothers’ faces.

Hardcase lets out a loud whoop! It draws more attention. From the women, from an older couple walking a fluffy, four legged animal. Rex gives a little wave and a nod to the couple, as if he could silently apologize for the disturbance they’ve caused.

Once inside, Rex is bathed in warmth. Bodies are moving on a tightly packed dance floor. Humans, not droids, stand on a stage with an array of instruments. They play each one like it’s an extension of their body, like the instrument has been part of their skeleton since they were born. They’re wooden and brass, and the band shows no sign of stopping soon.

Finding an open spot at the bar, Fives pushes to the front to flag down the bartender. She’s a pretty woman, with tan skin and black hair and a low cut shirt. Something that Fives is very appreciative of.

“Brother’s night out?” She calls over the music.

“Dad’s genes are strong,” Fives says. “We’re gonna do a round of shots.”

The bartender doesn’t seem phased at the joke, which dims the expectation in Fives’ eyes. It’s worked on every girl in the past, after all.

Rex pats Tup on the shoulder. “Gonna go sit down. Do not get crazy.”

Tup clicks his tongue. “We’d never.”

Rex isn’t a fan of liars, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he turns away from the bar and heads towards an empty table in the corner. It’s miraculously empty and seems to have enough stools for all of them.

When they’d been given their night off, General Skywalker had been flippant but also wished the force to be with them. Perhaps it was happening right now. Rex is slightly thankful as he slides into one of the stools, and watches his brothers from afar. The Stooges do what Rex only assumes is a secret shot. Clear liquid is tipped back from a small shot glass, and then quickly set back down on the table.

Kix, already on his way over the table, points his thumb back at them as if to say get a load of this. Rex huffs a laugh through his nose and shakes his head in disbelief. He slides into the seat beside Rex, rolling his eyes.

“As if we aren’t going to notice,” Kix says.

“Whether or not we saw…” Rex tacks on. He watches them hoot and holler as Echo does a shot of something an amber color. Hardcase rubs the back of Echo’s head with that maniacal grin on his face.

On surprisingly sturdy legs, little yellow shots with candied rims are brought over to the table. An expression of disgust forms across Rex’s face before he’s even tried them. The sweet treat must be Tup’s choosing.

“What is this?” Kix asks, pulling two towards him and Rex.

“Limoncello,” Tup says. “Maria recommended it.”

Rex wants to be on the ship watching a nature documentary on his datapad maybe with a cold beer.

“Maria?” He asks, bringing the shot to his nose to take a whiff. It’s citrus sweet.

“Tup was a big boy and asked for her name,” Fives laughs.

“Don’t marry her in your dreams,” Rex warns, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Don’t marry her in your dreams,” Tup mocks under his breath, shaking his head from side to side. “I just asked her for her name. Don’t be weird.”

The shots are for living another day, apparently. Rex doesn’t see that there’s anything better to cheer for. Not dead yet. The glasses hit the table, then are dumped back down their throats.

It is sweet. A little sour, but mostly sweet. Rex isn’t a fan.

Kix shares his distaste. He gathers the glasses into both his hands and stands. “I’m getting beers. You want?”

“Yeah,” Rex replies.

“Hey!” Fives calls after Kix. Kix turns, raising his eyebrow. “Nothing for us?”

“You’re going to be drunk enough,” Kix replies. He turns, and heads off towards the bar.

Hardcase hasn’t sat down yet. Instead, his hands are clapped on Echo’s shoulders. He’s speaking to Fives about his brother, making diabolical plans to get him laid that night above his head. He’s speaking too loud to be discreet, and loud enough that it makes Rex want to be swallowed by the floor. Fives gestures over to a group of women, a different group than the ones seen before, and adds to their conspiring.

All four of them, the Stooges and Echo, head off towards the women. Rex takes a deep breath of the warm air. Glances over at Kix– The bartender, Maria, seems to actually be engaging him in conversation. She’s leaned over, giving him a look down her shirt, and is laughing at something he’s saying.

Rex looks back at the dumpster fire that’s going on across the room. Fives seems to be making some sort of case for Echo, hand on his shoulder and speaking animatedly. Maybe it’s the same lie, the one about Echo being a virgin, they’re spinning.

Kix returns with two beers and a triumphant look on his face. He slides one over to Rex, and is sure to clink the necks together in cheers before taking a sip.

“What’re you so happy about?” Rex asks.

“Maria said I was pretty,” Kix hums.

“How nice of her to give us all a compliment,” Rex mumbles.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Kix says, furrowing his brow.

“Sorry.” Rex speaks into the beer’s mouth, taking a long pull.

A beat of quiet passes between the two of them. Rex watches the dancefloor. It’s more attractive than his brothers failing miserably at wingmanning each other.

The dance floor has swelled as the night has progressed. A few of the girls walk away from the Stooges, joining the breathing floor. Rex’s attention isn’t on anyone or anything in particular. Instead, he’s watching the general shapes, the general flows of rhythm that extend through the physical body.

“Maybe you should try getting laid tonight,” Kix suggests.

“I’m not in the mood,” Rex replies, almost too quickly. He’s not.

Kix lets it go. Rex returns to his watching. Maybe the beer will make him feel better. Maybe a walk will clear his head. Maybe he really should have stayed in with a nature documentary. Everyone on the dance floor moves with such ease, as if they are all of the same mind and body. One living organism.

“Hardcase straight up asked if they wanted to, and I quote, fuck,” Fives huffs, sounding more like a petulant child than a rejected adult.

Rex’s attention snaps away from the floor. Fives sits down on a stool beside him, resting his head in his hands.

“He let down Echo. What if he never gets his dick wet?” Fives bemoans.

Hardcase rolls his eyes. He crosses his arms, and doesn’t sit down. “I think we should go to the next bar.”

Rex looks beyond the bemoaners. It seems like Tup and Echo are doing just fine, now that Hardcase and Fives have walked away.

“Don’t think a new bar is going to fix your problems,” Kix says, his gaze following Rex’s.

Rex stands. He claps both Hardcase and Fives on their shoulders. “I think the problem is you.”

They look over. A pained expression paints their faces.

“We have to go to another bar,” Fives insists.

“I’m content right here,” Kix says, bringing his beer to his lips. “Maria gave me her freq– Hey, where are you going?”

Rex turns, a few paces from the table. “Taking a leak. Want to hold my hand?”

“Fuck off,” Kix sighs and turns back to the group. There, he has questions to answer about the bartender from his eager brothers. They sit around him, hanging on to each word that Kix reluctantly shares.

“What I thought,” Rex mumbles to himself, and heads off in search of the restroom.

It’s tucked back behind a wall, sitting behind a large oak door, common in Naboo. After trying the handle, Rex sighs. It’s occupied.

Rex leans back against the wall while he waits, closing his eyes. The music reverberates through the wall, sending pleasant waves through his body.

“Ugh, is it occupied?”

Rex turns his head to face the voice. Immediately, he straightens off the wall. Words escape him for a moment, stuck somewhere in the blank spaces of his brain. You’re beautiful. Red lips, long lashes, curve-hugging dress. His lips part once, then he finds his words, though it’s not many.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.” What is he apologizing for?

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Honestly, kind of insane this place only has one bathroom.”

Rex nods. Words filter back to his brain in a slow, gracious trickle. “You come here often?”

A laugh stretches out past your red lips. “I’ve been known to spend an evening here, yes.”

There’s a beat of silence. You glance towards the wall before back to the man in front of you.

“What about you?”

“Me?” Rex turns his head back to you. “Oh, I’m just visiting.”

“Where from?”

“Small planet, far away. Nowhere as nice as here.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s plenty nice. You’re just from there, so you don’t see the beauty in it.”

Rex shrugs. He’s about to reply when the bathroom door opens and a patron exits. He gestures towards it.

“Ladies first.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” You deflate with graciousness. With a hand on the door, pushing it open, you look over your shoulder at Rex. Your lashes bat down as you take a long look up and down his body. He’s filled out quite nicely, but there’s something about him that draws you in. “When I’m done in here, I’m going to smoke a cigarette on the rooftop. If you want to join me.”

“Oh, I don’t smoke,” Rex says. He makes a split-second decision. “But I’ll join you.”

You smile wide at him again, then disappear into the bathroom. Rex resumes his slouch against the wall. A faint smile crosses his face as he thinks about your own smile.

Rex doesn’t bother telling his brothers where he’s off too. Instead, he goes straight from the toilet to the rooftop. It takes a small staircase where the middle of the stairs are worn down, and a good push on the door that seems to be stuck on its hinges.

The rooftop is nice. Decorated with little lights and a few tables. It’s clear that it’s meant for patrons, but wasn’t being used tonight due to the live music below. The night sky stretches on above you, stars drowned out by the city lights of Theed.

The bar is across the street from the sea, so the lights are swallowed whole by the waters of Naboo. You stand by the wall, which is a white plaster that reaches your waist, curved at the top. The fairy lights illuminate you, working with the moonlight to encase you in an ethereal glow. There’s a shawl around your shoulders, and a pearlescent cigarette case glints in your hand.

Your head turns at the sound of the door being opened. A lazy grin makes its way across your face as you recognize the handsome stranger from earlier.

“I think you come here more than you’re letting on,” Rex says.

“Sue me,” you hum.

Rex crosses the distance to reach you. He’s handsome, face lit up by the fairy lights and backlit by the door he emerges from. There’s a nice chisel to his face that hints at the rations that fill his diet. In the darkness, his eyes are a glinting brown.

Flicking open your cigarette case, you withdraw a cigarette and place the white butt between your lips. Immediately, red lipstick rings around it. Your lighter lands in your hand, with the same pearl sheen as your case. You illuminate the tip of the cigarette, casting your face in the glow of the handheld fire.

The light shuts off abruptly.

You exhale away from his face.

“Oh, I never introduced myself, did I?” You pull your cigarette away from your face to examine the tip and make sure it’s burning smoothly. Then, you follow through on your words and let your name tumble from your lips.

Rex does so in turn. It’s nice to meet you, as he tells you in turn, repeating your name on his tongue to try it out. The syllables flow nicely, more than he’s used to. There’s an antique ring that he’s a fan of.

You take another drag of your cigarette. “It’s fitting. Your name.”

Rex can’t help but chuckle at the truth behind your words. It does fit, doesn’t it? Almost as if it had been picked out for him. Still, it warms him that you like it. That you enjoy the one thing he’s picked out for himself.

“I saw you staring earlier,” You say. “Do you dance?”

“It’s not for me. I just like watching.”

Your lashes skim down your cheeks again as you look him up and down. The sheer sparkle over your lids is becoming a treasure. When they return their gaze to his own eyes, your brow is raised in question. Lots of men like watching.

“What kinds of things do you like watching?”

Shit. What kinds of things does he like watching? His mind goes blank, and his lips supply the one thing he can think of right now, because an example is standing right before him: “Pretty women.”

“Oh?” You feel your face warm slightly. Flattery. You have to hold off from asking if you’re one of the pretty women he likes looking at.

“Don’t get to very often. Always a nice, good thing when I do.”

“What keeps you from it?”

“The war.” There’s a lot of admittance coming from his lips. It feels strange on his chest. Like there’s a slurping on his soul he can’t tell if he should lean into or avoid.

You hum. Another drag of the cigarette. “Scary times we live in, isn’t it?”

Rex wishes he was better at asking questions. His tongue feels too big for his mouth. “Hopefully you don’t get too close to it.”

“I suppose I don’t.” You pull the cigarette away from your face and place it before you, checking the burn on the tip before raising it back up again. Your arm crosses your chest to support your cigarette elbow, and it presses your chest together. Rex’s eyes dip for just a moment. “Closest I get is asking Gungans for art to hang in the museums.”

“What puts you in that situation?”

“I’m a curator for the National Art Museum. We’re actually celebrating tonight. You into art?”

“I don’t get the chance for it very often.” Only art he had was the jaig eyes on his helmet. He had painted those on, long ago. Taped down the area around them and used an airbrush. Sometimes he’d find Tup drawing in the common area during downtime. Tup liked portraits– sketched anyone and everyone he saw in ballpoint pen. Rex wouldn’t deem his exposure ‘museum worthy.’

“That’s a shame. Don’t dance, don’t look at art, don’t even get to look at pretty women.” You shake your head. “I feel bad for you, Rex.”

“Don’t,” Rex says. “‘S just part of the job.”

“Still. Maybe this is why–”

You’re cut off by the door to the rooftop jostling open. A large figure fills the space, calling out.

“Rex? We’re going to another bar. You ready to go?”

From the cadence, Rex can recognize the voice as Kix. “I’ll catch up later.”

“Right.” Kix pauses, and then makes an exaggerated movement across his lips, as if he was zipping them shut and locking them. He even throws away the key. Rex’s eyes crinkle with a small smile and he waves him off.

The door shuts firmly behind Kix.

“You sure you don’t have to leave?” You ask, slipping your bag from your shoulder.

“Nah. See them everyday.”

Flashing him a smile, you reach inside your purse and produce a tin. You pop it open and place a mint on your tongue. Rex’s eyes follow your fingers intently. “Want one?” You offer.

Rex almost denies. Why must he take more? Instead, he goes along with it, nodding.

“Open your mouth.”

Rex does so. You place the little white mint on his tongue, a small smile on your lips. The muscle flutters slightly.

“Come dancing with me,” You whisper. “I don’t care that you can’t.” Your eyes flit down to his hands, which rest clasped together before you. They’re large, the nails wide. You glance up at him, and lean in slightly. You smell like cigarettes and mint, not something that Rex would ever think he’d like. “I want you to put your hands on my body.”

The sharp breath Rex takes is invigorated by the mint. He almost swallows the small, white candy.

“Yeah?” You ask, smiling widely at him. “Or do you want to stay up here and talk for a little longer?”

Rex swallows. He bets his brothers are gone– Hardcase had probably been begging to leave since he was rejected. Rex glances down your dress again, then to your hips.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you hum, catching his lingering gaze. You slip your hand between his, separating them from their clasp. His fingers are calloused against yours, signs of hard work over every smooth surface. You slip your fingers between his. “Just follow me.”

Rex does check to see if his brothers are still present. Luckily, the corner is empty. Free of them. He feels his shoulders loosen as he follows you over to where your friends are sitting. A giggle rises in your throat as you toss your bag beside one of your friends, flippantly telling her you were going dancing. Happily, the ones around the table titter upon seeing you with a man in tow. You reach over and take a sip of her drink, laughing when you’re whacked on the hip for your thievery.

Dancing you do go. You lead Rex to the outskirts of the dance floor, somewhere where he can still breathe. Taking Rex’s hands within your own, you place them on your body. The one that wraps around your hip practically engulfs the bone. His other does the same to your hand.

“I promise, no one is watching,” you say, “And I won’t take it personally if you step on my toes.”

“I’ll take it personally if I do,” Rex says. His eyes leave yours for a moment, and land on one of your friends, who is, in fact, busy watching. Quickly, he returns his gaze to you. You’re gazing up at him, a faint smile on your lips and a faint sway in your body.

Rex looks at his feet once you start moving, genuinely worried he’d step on your toes. He fills the space as your feet leave them, and you gently turn him to make a small circle with your box steps.

“Keep your eyes up here, on me,” you murmur over the music. Your hand slides to rest on his chest, and his on your shoulder. Rex’s eyes immediately flash back up from your feet. “Let’s go a little faster.” Your gazes are locked too close to each other. It’s all mint and smoke and a spice that Rex can’t place. Maybe it’s your perfume.

Rex keeps up much better than you had thought. He keeps himself nearly pressed against you, with just enough room for the rise and fall of your chests to fill.

“You’re doing really good,” you whisper, the complement washing over Rex. “Want to spin me?”

“I don’t know if I can,” Rex murmurs in reply.

“It’s easy. Just pause and let me spin and we’ll pick right back up,” you instruct. “It’ll be easy.”

It is. Your fingers glide against each other as you turn, Rex’s hand sliding across your waist as you spin. It electrifies when it crosses over your naked lower back. You settle back into the rhythm of the music, grinning up at Rex.

And oh, suddenly he doesn’t care about your friends staring at the two of you.

“You’re a natural.”

The sweet words swell Rex’s chest with pride. After all, his body is good at doing what it’s told to do. And you’re much more attractive than any general who’s ever given him orders.

Under your gentle and enticing guidance, Rex gets it, to some degree. Understands the rhythm to some degree, as long as your hands and encouraging words were nudging him along. Gotten to understand your body to some degree, smell your perfume and feel your chest press against his.

“I want a drink,” you state.

“Let me get you one,” Rex replies.

“You misunderstand.” Your hand rests over Rex’s chest, right over his heart. It’s not beating as quickly as you would have expected it to after the cardio of dance he had just participated in. “I want a drink at home.”

“It’s late out, let me walk you there.” The response is natural, easygoing. Second nature.

“I hope you do. I hope you join me, too.”

Oh.

“Yes ma’am.”

You grace him with one of those near kisses he’d witnessed earlier when he was just watching. It feels completely different to be on the receiving end– To have your breath almost mingle with his.

The walk to your apartment isn’t too far. It’s close enough that Rex can see why you’d frequent the bar so often– It was barely a walk and you seemed to enjoyed dancing. He wondered, just for a moment, if he was just another part of your normal Friday nights. Work, dance, bring someone home.

Secretly, he hopes he’s an exception.

The gate to the apartment’s courtyard squeaks as it opens. Rex reaches over you and pushes it the rest of the way. The movement has you engulfed in the scent of soap and the hint of sweat. You find yourself taking another breath.

“What a gentleman.” You throw a smile over to him as you step in.

Within the safety of your apartment, you discard your purse on the small table in the entryway. Flip on the lamp that reads there as well. It fills the small area with a warm, orange glow.

“Take your shoes off,” you say, placing a hand on the table for balance as you lift a foot behind you to fiddle with the straps.

“Here,” Rex says, voice soft and rolling in the small space. “Let me help you.”

He drops down. His fingers are large against the soft leather straps and the small metal buckle. There’s half a thought to press a kiss to your knee, half covered by the asymmetrical hem of your dress, but he refrains. He stands and dutifully takes off his own shoes.

With a heavy gaze, you look Rex up and down again. He’s a head tilt taller than you now, not in your heels anymore. He seems to take up more space now, too. Now that he’s somewhere so personal.

You slide into your slippers and pad through the apartment, leading him towards the main living area. Each lamp is flicked on manually, which surprises Rex. Most buildings were designed to be easily controlled by one central data pad.

The warm light is a stark contrast to the fluorescents he’s used to. So is the atmosphere of your living room.

Tall, cream ceilings with windows to match. There’s a balcony, which is locked shut by a heavy brass contraption. The sofa and chair are thick with cushioning, and the coffee and end tables appear antique.

Rex follows you into the kitchen. Another small space, where he finds himself closer than ever to you. The tile is cool through his socks, an intricate design in shades of cream.

“Do you want wine or beer?” You ask, opening up the refrigerator.

“Beer, please,” he replies.

You produce two from the fridge. They clink together as you hold them by their necks in one hand. As you turn, you’re met with the view of Rex leaning against your counter. It’s a far cry from most of your… visitors, who make themselves at home on your couch the moment they enter.

You like this change of pace.

“Want to sit inside or outside?”

“Where do you want to sit?”

“Outside,” You admit.

“Then outside.”

You smile. Rex simultaneously wants to never stop watching the pull of your lips and break the smile with a kiss.

On the balcony, you flick on some more lights, illuminating the area until the darkness of the night consumes the rays. There’s a small table for eating, and a couch. Beside the couch is an elaborate glass hookah set up that you’re quick to move aside.

Taking a seat on the couch, you pat the spot beside you for Rex. You hand him his beer as soon as he’s sat.

Facing him fully, you rest your arm on the back of the couch.

“You said you never danced before, but I have a hard time believing that,” You say.

Rex takes a pull of beer for confidence. “What makes you say that?”

“You were a lot better than I was expecting.”

“Glad I could defy expectations.” There’s a glint in Rex’s eyes that the light accentuates.

Humming, you pose your next question. “Is this your first time on Naboo?”

Rex can’t help but chuckle. He’s by far no stranger to Naboo, but typically spends his days stationed within the capitol building. “No, but it’s the first time I’ve been truly off duty here.”

“And? What are your thoughts?”

“I have no complaints.” Rex flits his eyes down your body. “Have certainly had a change in expectations for the night.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side. “What were your original expectations?”

“I…” Rex’s voice gets lost as his eyes wander, watching your lips form to take a sip from the bottle. The way your fingers wrap around the glass. “Definitely not this.”

You hum, and it makes a reverberating sound through the glass. “This?”

“Something not so rowdy. I was expecting rowdiness.”

“Tell me more,” you urge, leaning into him.

Rex’s heart flutters uncharacteristically in his chest. He swallows. Your perfume has a spice to it that he’s never smelt before.

“My brothers and I have the night off, so we went out. They’re… A lot. Don’t always think things through.” They deserve not to, Rex thinks, at least when they’re off duty.

You laugh. “I think I can tell. Two of them tried picking up my friends.”

“I must apologize for them.”

“Don’t. It was funny.” You reach over, into his space, and run your fingers over his buzz cut. “Are you a natural blonde?”

Rex glances over at your bracelet, which dangles precariously on your wrist.

“Yeah.” The touch of your fingers feels good. Soft and gentle.

“I was blonde when I was a baby,” you comment.

“I think the brown suits you.”

“You’re sweet.”

Rex hums. You withdraw your hand. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

You smile. “Perhaps. What keeps you in?”

“Work.”

Taking another pull of your beer, you tilt your head to the side. “You know I’m going to ask you what you do.”

“Nothing fancy. I’m just a soldier.” Rex picks at lint that’s not there on his pants. “For the Republic,” he tacks on.

“Oh.” You take another drink of beer. “Can I be honest with you?”

“You’re going to be, anyways.” He gladly anticipates whatever truth you’re about to share with him.

“I’m a pacifist.”

Rex muddles the words around for a moment. “I think I’d be one too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Would have to think on it a little bit more but… Between you and me, I’m ready for it to be over.”

“I bet. I think you’re too handsome to be a soldier, anyways.”

Rex feels his face warm. It feels like a compliment just for him. Not one to be shared.

“You don’t think there should be soldiers.” There’s no heat to his words. Perhaps, in another life, he’d agree.

“Please, I’m trying to call you handsome. Will you please accept my compliment?”

“I’ll accept it.” Rex takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

This time, a warmth spreads across your cheeks. You take a final drink of your beer. The metal end table you’re aiming for is on Rex’s side. Instead of passing the bottle to him, you completely lean over him. He gets a good, long look down your back. His hand has half a mind to run down the expanse, to dip into the valley of your spine and run over the swell of your ass.

You pause in front of him as you settle back.

“Tell me, Rex,” his name slides off your tongue, “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

Rex’s eyes drop from yours to your lips. “I’d be very thankful.”

You inch your face closer. “Would you kiss me back?”

What a ridiculous question. Rex responds by setting his beer down and sliding his chilled hand through your hair, resting it at the nape of your neck.

A shiver trickles down your spine.

Rex’s lips are on yours. Warm, confident, slightly chapped.

You rest your palm on his chest. His heart thrums away beneath. One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, thumb smoothing back and forth over the fabric.

Your tongue slides across his bottom lip. His mouth opens, tongue sliding alongside yours in wet heat. Easing yourself against him, you twist your body to take a seat on his lap. It’s sideways, your dress won’t let you straddle him. Instead, your legs are tucked up next to him.

His hand slides down the smoothness of your legs, down to your ankle before up again. He continues his journey upwards, to your waist and your open back, playing with the low dip of your dress.

You allow your head to lull into the hand that supports you there. Rex presses into the kiss, nose pushed against your cheek. As your tongues pass each other again, you don’t know where yours ends and his starts.

Rex kisses like he’s drinking water. Like the quench to his thirst rests in your lips, in the slick of your saliva. There’s a thrumming building in your core, right where your soul lies.

Your heart aches for him as you pull away and he chases your lips. His eyes flutter open, blinking amber into the dim light.

“Hey,” he says, voice rolling over roughness. There’s a faint hint of red from your lipstick over your lips.

“Hi,” you reply, a little lilt and giggle to your voice. You wonder if your alleged kiss-proof lipstick had shifted.

There’s a lazy, pleased smile working its way across Rex’s mouth.

“Want to follow me inside?”

“Gods, yes I do.”

You slip off of his lap and onto your own two feet. Leaning down, you take Rex’s hands in your own and pull him up to his full height.

“Lead on, gorgeous,” Rex says, dipping back down to get another taste of your lips.

The door to your bedroom is wide open. You fumble for some more lights, slipping around the room to turn most of them on. There isn’t much in your bedroom: only a bed with a large, wooden headboard, an armoire that’s as old as the building, and a vanity you found at a flea market. A few paintings of deities Rex doesn’t recognize hang on the walls in dark wood frames. With the lights dim and warm, you come back to stand before Rex, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands settle on your hips, then slip to your lower back.

“You don’t need to be so polite,” you murmur, sliding your hands down his chest and further, fingers dancing along the hemline of his shirt.

“Feel like I gotta. Not everyday…” he trails off, distracted by the feeling of your fingers, slightly cold, dancing up under his shirt. You don’t go far, just enough to feel over the v of his abdomen.

“Not everyday…” you encourage.

“‘S not important,” Rex decides on. It’s not. You don’t need to know he rarely does this. That his experience here isn’t to his normal standard. He ducks his head, pressing his lips back against yours, walking you towards the bed.

Your teasing question dies in Rex’s mouth, swallowed by every slick pass of your lips opening and closing on each other. The backs of your knees hit the edge of your made bed, and you fall back on it.

Unfortunately, Rex doesn’t come with you. Instead, he stands before you and between your legs, hesitation momentarily seeping across his face. You sit up and lean back on your hands, the way your shoulders move causing one of the dress straps to slip.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, tilting your head so it rests on your shoulder.

“Nothing,” Rex says, pulling his shirt off over his head.

He’s quick to lean back over you, doesn’t give you much time to admire the planes of his pectorals, or the almost-defined abdomen he has. Wants to drive your attention away from the scars that litter his skin. His knees dip in the duvet, and you spread your own to accommodate him. As your dress rides up, his gaze follows the fabric, which still leaves you modest.

Rex is consuming above you, taking up every aspect of your vision. Your hands run over his shoulders, defined and firm, down his arms, defined and firm. His muscles are carved like the statues you select for showcases. It causes a giddy, girlish giggle to bubble up from your lungs.

“What’s so funny?” Rex murmurs.

You shake your head, hand moving back to cup his face. “Nothing. You’re just… You’re so muscle-y.”

Rex blinks at you, once. Then he ducks his head, a smile forming. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You think you might have dreamed him up once before. With your eyes shut, and a hand in between your thighs, the moon high in the sky. “Yeah.”

Rex’s lips find the pulse point you apply your perfume to, licking over what remains of vanilla beans and spice. Your hand rests upon the back of his head, a sigh leaving your lips. He sucks and laves lavishly, never leaning his full body weight against you. A trail is formed, from jaw to shoulder, as he nips and kisses.

Shrugging your shoulder again, the other strap of your dress is encouraged to slide off as well. The fabric of your dress continues to keep you modest, despite Rex’s kisses continuing over the plane of your exposed breast.

He lifts his head, meeting your gaze.

“May I?” He asks.

And to think he’ll ship back off after tonight. You nod, sliding the straps down so your arms are freed from them. Your nipples, erect and wanting, stubbornly keep the garment up, coming between them and their desire.

Delicately, Rex slides your dress down to your hips. A punched out whine mews from the back of his throat at the exposed skin. It’s equally unbecoming, for him, and attractive, for you. With his hands firmly on your waist, he lowers his head further and swipes a long line across your nipple.

Your nails scratch along his shorn hair, a breathy sigh leaving your lips. You’ve missed the feeling of a mouth on you, and Rex’s is wet and eager. His tongue swirls around the fat of your nipple, slurping around it with obscenity.

Rex wonders how your nails will feel digging into his back.

You push against his forehead, and his lips detach with a pop! His cheeks are ruddy, his eyes wide, filled with worry he’d done something wrong.

“Take off my dress,” You breathe, sitting up on your elbows. Glancing down, you take in your chest, and the array of splotches that decorate your chest and breasts.

Rex swallows and nods. He slips back off the bed, and undresses you with careful, steady hands. An open mouthed sigh leaves his lips as he has you bare before him, only in your underwear. Mindlessly, he uses his hands to messily fold the dress before throwing it on top of a chair in the corner of your room.

Rex’s back swells with the size of his breath. His eyes dart all over you, unable to find just one place to land.

You tap the side of his thigh with your pointed toes. “You doing okay up there, handsome?”

“Yes ma’am,” Rex breathes. He bends down to press a kiss to your stomach, nipping at the soft skin there. When he falls to his knees between your legs, you know it’s over. There’s never been someone through your door like this.

Rex sucks deep kisses into the fat of your thighs, over all the sensitive bits. Your hands slide over his hair, nails scratching against the short hair without purchase.

Mouth centimeters away from your clothed pussy, Rex glances up the mountains and valleys of your body. He speaks your name, calling your attention down towards him.

He doesn’t even need to ask, before you’re breathing a “Yes, yes, yes.”

Instead of sliding your panties to the side, or removing them completely, Rex swipes his tongue along the already wet fabric. You can feel the edges of his tongue over the areas of your labia that try their hardest to eat your underwear whenever you’re out. Rex seems insistent on tasting you through the silken fabric, his nose pressed up against your covered mound.

Your hands leave the back of his head and hook under your panties, trying to push them down. As your hips rise off the bed, his hands wrap around your thighs and pull you closer.

“Rex, let me, let you…”

He pulls off with a sigh. His eyes are slightly glazed over, and you want nothing more than to pull him up for a kiss.

“Is it okay?” He asks.

“Give me your hands,” You urge. He offers them to you without second thought.

Contorting your hand, you gain control of his right hand and dip his fingers past your panties, so they slip behind the flimsy fabric. Rex sucks in a breath, fingers sliding through nothing but warmth.

“Right?” You release his hands and tuck your fingers under the waistband of your panties and slide them down until the top of your mound is visible.

Rex slides them down and off you, and you reward him with a fair piece of praise: “Good boy.”

Rex stills above you. His eyes trail up the line of your body and land on your face. Your brows furrow. “What is it?”

“Never heard that one before,” Rex replies.

“Really?” You find that hard to believe. With a man like this?

Rex nods. He slides his fingers through the silk of your cunt, collecting your wetness on his fingers and sliding it up over your clit. You gasp, hand coming up over your mouth.

“Don’t do that,” Rex murmurs, reaching a hand up to wrap around your forearm, easing your hand away from your face. He replaces your hand with his thumb, swiping over the smearing red lipstick.

There’s a brief moment where he doesn’t move from his gaze, where he just lingers over you.

Then, without warning, his fingers are moving again. They’re slipping through your folds, and he’s lowering himself back down to the side of your bed again. His lips join his fingers, as if it was second nature. Breathing.

His fingers part your folds for his tongue, which traces opening to clit, in a long pull. Rex’s eyes flutter shut, savoring the tang on his tongue. His lips close around your clit, laving attention over the sensitive bud.

Little gasps pop from your lips, and Rex’s ears twitch to pick up each one. There’s a firmness in his pants that’s veering on uncomfortable, and his body shifts to apply underwhelming friction.

There’s nothing but warmth and attention in your core. Waves of pleasure lap at your shore, tides pushed and pulled by Rex’s attention.

Rex lifts his head. He wants to watch your facial expressions as his middle finger slides through your wetness. As it presses against your entrance, which all but sucks him in. A contented sigh slips through your lips, and Rex rises up your body to press his lips back against yours. His tongue slides against yours with the same pace as his finger, easing you deeper into the bedspread.

Your legs bend so your knees brush against his sides. Leaning back, Rex’s hand rests on your knee, gently moving it to the side to give him a better view of how his finger moves in and out, of the whiteness that clings to his finger.

He slides out completely, then wets his ring finger to join. At the welcome intrusion, you stretch your arms back above your head, pulling your stomach taunt. Rex’s fingers coax within you, searching for the perfect spot to press upon.

You shift your hips slightly, and a sigh leaves your lips when he grazes upon the spongiest part within you. Rex curls his fingers, and a breathy moan leaves your lips.

Satisfied, Rex ducks his head back down. His fingers find purchase on your mound, exposing the flushed wetness of your clit. His tongue works in unison with his fingers, flicking over the bud.

The tides within you swell. Subconsciously, your legs close in around Rex’s head, swallowing him closed like an oyster. Your hips shift, rising and rolling in synchronization with his fingers. Up and down, up into the warmth, down into the pleasure.

“Rex…” you breathe, fingers grazing against his head.

He hums into you, eyes opening and watching as your hand slides along your stomach, nails creating little deltas along the flesh.

Your thigh quivers beside him. Moans rise from your mouth, floating into the heady air.

Temptation to speed up, to intensify swirl around in Rex’s mind. To elicit louder cries, to encourage the small of your back to lift off the bed. Instead, he keeps his course steady, eyes fluttering shut once more.

There’s another weak call of his name, laced in between a moan. Rex groans, content to do nothing more than hear it again. He’s listening, he promises he’s listening. He can feel the tightness building, can hear nothing but the slick sounds emitting from where he’s dipped inside you.

The final crest over is prolonged. Arched back, complete stillness, whimpering moan. Hands fisted in the bedsheets. Rex slows his movements, detaching his mouth first.

He hovers above you, lazily moving his fingers. Your legs continue to quiver, your chest continues to suck in deep breaths. Your eyes crack open, a hand lazily rising to tug on his dog tags, pulling him down and closer to you.

You slot your lips against his. There’s wetness and tang and a rapidly familiar warmth. You hold him close by the side of his face, feeling his jaw move with each swipe.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips.

“Don’t thank me,” Rex replies, pressing another kiss to your lips. His fingers withdraw with a slickness, and he’s careful to not set them on your bedsheets.

You give a non committal hum. Reaching for his hand, you bring it to your lips, licking a stripe along the underside before taking them into your mouth. Your tongue laves over the digits, sucking every drop of your essence off of them.

When Rex withdraws his hand, his eyes are wide. There’s a beat of your breaths, before his lips are on yours again. He plunders your mouth, chasing after the taste he was planning on enjoying himself.

You slide up your bed, until your head is comfortably pillowed. A groan slips from you, when you see that Rex is still wearing pants.

“That can’t be comfortable, can it be?”

You watch with rapt attention as he slides his pants off and down along with his boxers. Your next breath hitches in your throat when you get a good look at his cock.

Heavy. Seated among a thatch of thick, dark hair that trails up to his bellybutton.

You swallow. Then, you reach over and fumble within your nightstand, pushing aside lube and vibrators for the box of condoms that was in there.

“Come here,” you beckon, patting the space beside you. Rex crawls on the bed beside you, shoulders rippling in the lamplight. His thighs are decorated in thatches of hair that thicken as they near his groin.

He settles between your thighs, hands moving over the smooth skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Rex murmurs. His hands engulf your thighs, sliding upwards to where they crease into your core.

Spellbound by the reverent tone of voice, you slide your legs apart for him, revealing the very place he had just been. His eyes dip down, then up to your chest. His brows furrow, seeing the little marks he had left in his wake.

One of his hands rises, fingers gliding over a hickey on the side of your breast. “My apologies about this.”

“Oh, Rex,” you coo, covering your hand over his, “There is absolutely no need to apologize. In fact, you can even leave more.”

Rex’s eyes search yours, discovering nothing but lust. Pupils blown wide.

Cupping his face in your hands, you pull him closer for another kiss. His hardness slides between your folds as he presses close, and he groans into your mouth. Long, drawn out. Pent up.

“Feel good?” You widen your legs for him. His cock slides along your clit, rubbing against it deliciously. You hum in pleasure.

Another moan slides from his lips. You reach between the two of you, fingers carding through his happy trail as you follow it to his hardness. He’s heavy in your hand. Your fingers dance along the underside, cutting between his heat and your own. You thumb slides over the flushed tip of his cock, and another groan comes from Rex, this time directly in your ear.

Your core squeezes. You feel a dribble of wetness slide from your hole.

Removing your hand, you gently push him back and away from you. Rex goes easily, all too quickly. You tear a condom off and pass it to him.

Rex dutifully takes it. There’s little fanfare as he wraps himself up, sliding the latex on.

You push him back again, giving him a little nudge on the chest. Situated on his back, you climb over his hips, dragging his cock back through your folds. Rex’s eyes flutter shut before they snap back open.

“Don’t want to keep you from watching,” You reply with a breathy laugh.

“Wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.” Rex gives you a handsome half smile that makes your mind stutter.

You return the smile, through slightly smeared lipstick, and rise up on your knees. Rex finds his cock for you, and your fingers pass over each other as you take it in your hand. The head presses against your entrance, which flutters at the pressure.

Biting your bottom lip, you let gravity ease you down. One of Rex’s thighs rests propped up behind you, the other turned open. He offers you his hands for you to hold onto resting against so you don’t slip down his cock too quickly.

Once fully sheathed, you give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness within you. Your hips begin rolling slowly, warming yourself up even more. A punched out whine comes from behind your bitten lip.

Rex’s brows are pinched together as he watches, mouth open and lips in a wide ‘o.’ He lets you grind against him, lets you start to shallowly bounce yourself up and down on him, lets you take your pleasure into your hands for a few minutes. It’s pleasurable, combined with the little moans that you’re letting out, but it’s not enough.

His hands find your hips, and he braces his feet against the bed, knees up. With little effort, he lifts you up to the head of his cock before pulling you back down. For the next pass, he’s sure to thrust his hips up to meet you halfway.

The look on your face is a mixture between pleasure and shock. It doesn’t take you long to get on board with the change of pace. Your hand presses over your stomach, so you can feel Rex as he slides in and out of you, and you make sure to hug his cock with every pass. From your vantage point you watch as all of his muscles move in harmony with each other. Your core squeezes. A ring of white begins to form on the base of Rex’s cock.

With your hips as purchase, Rex pulls himself up into a seated position. Immediately, you lock your ankles behind his back. He chuckles as he leans in to kiss you, pressing you back against the pillows again. One of his hands supports your lower back, the other on your thigh.

You look at him through your lashes. His own pupils are blown wide.

“I’m not very good at sitting back,” Rex murmurs.

“Thank goodness,” you hum, hands running over the planes of his shoulders.

“Thank goodness?” Rex repeats, slowly sliding out before pushing in even slower. At this angle, you can feel every centimeter as it's fed into you. “Why’s that?”

“Um…” You can’t exactly think through your comment.

“Tell me,” Rex urges, continuing the slow thrusts.

“I just… I don’t… I like…” How deep is he?

“What do you like?”

“I like… I like working with… With gravity…”

Rex slowly picks up the pace. He hikes your body up, giving your knees no place to notch but over his shoulders.

“With gravity?”

You whimper your affirmation.

“Is this better?” Rex’s hands move from your hips to your thighs, holding them flush against his chest. When you nod, he moves to press your legs back, so they’re butterflied away from your cunt. “Or do you prefer this?”

Your reply is a moan. One of your hands cover’s Rex’s splayed fingers, the other reaches above your head for your pillow. A breathless chuckle leaves Rex’s lips, and he continues to keep a steady pace. Each thrust you can feel in your throat with how deep he’s pressing– you didn’t know you could feel anything that deep within you.

It’s full. Almost too full. Your cunt flutters around his cock, anticipating and rewarding every stroke.

Your hand is on the way to cover your mouth, but Rex is faster. He slips his fingers through yours, pressing your hand into the plush of your pillows. Your other hand reaches up to cup behind his head, sprawling out over the nape of his neck. As your lips reattach to his, his thrusts fluster before speeding up, giving you no choice but to pull away to let out a moan.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe. One of Rex’s hands comes to knead the soft tissue of your breast.

It leaves its work quickly, however, to spare attention towards your clit. As his thumb swipes over the bundle of nerves, an even louder moan climbs out through your throat. Your thighs shake, and your hands rise to press against your headboard.

Rex almost feels bad. He’s going too fast, he’s going too hard, your headboard is millimeters away from knocking against the wall with each rhythmic push of his hips. But your face is contorted in pleasure, eyes screwed shut and head tilted back.

Your eyes flash open as you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Rex,” You gasp.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Rex asks, leaning over you. “You gonna cum?”

You whine. There’s another thrall of pleasure at the pet name.

“Tell me,” Rex urges. His lips hover over yours.

“Yeah,” You breathe, the vowels hitching with every thrust. “Don’t– Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Rex gives you a grin before a grunt, trying his hardest to keep a steady pace. He’s throbbing, you can feel the twitch of his cock inside you.

Your orgasm spills over and out, rippling from your moans down to your cum. As you peak, Rex’s thrusts speed up for a brief moment, then still, as he empties with a groan into the condom. Your legs feel gummy, weak and heavy as Rex eases out of you and rests your shaking legs on the bed. The sweat on his shoulders glazes in the light as he cleans up.

You gesture to the bathroom, which is attached to your bedroom. Closing your eyes, you listen as Rex throws the condom away, then as cabinets open and close.

“In the closet,” You call, voice lighter and higher than you’d ever heard it.

Rex returns with a damp, warm washcloth as he removes the last traces of sex from between your legs. He presses a kiss to your knee, a little too soft for a hook up but makes your stomach flip regardless, before getting back off the bed.

When you crack open your eyes, you see that he’s pulling on his pants. You sit up on your elbow.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“I figured you’d want me out of your hair,” Rex replies.

You pout. “Come lay with me for a moment, at least.”

Rex hesitates. You rub the bedding beside you. “Just for a moment. And then I’m going to go take off my makeup.”

Rex obliges. He slides into the spot and you rest your head on his chest. His arms wrap around you, thick and secure. You exhale, relaxing into him. Maybe you should have taken off your makeup first, then you could rope him into spending the night. Absentmindedly, you card your fingers through his chest hair. His hand begins to rub up and down your back.

“Normally I insist people spend the night,” you murmur against his skin, eyes slipping shut. He hums to show he’s listening. “I like it.”

“I gotta be gone real early in the morning,” Rex replies. His voice rumbles through his chest.

“That’s a shame.”

“Why?”

“Was going to make you breakfast. I have avocados that need using… eggs that need frying… coffee that needs drinking… I just got new coffee cups…” Your words begin to slur together from sleepiness.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Rex says, jostling his shoulder slightly.

You hum, raising your eyebrows.

“Go take that makeup off.” He sits up, bringing you with him. His eyes glance down at your nipples, which are soft in the heady air.

“Right,” you say, climbing over him and off the bed. “Don’t slip out.”

“I’ll stay right here,” Rex promises.

Rex doesn’t leave in the middle of the night. Instead, he’s under the softest sheets and the heaviest blanket he’s ever experienced, with the fan on high and a naked woman next to him, tucked up under his arm and sleeping soundly. He finds sleep doesn’t evade him as easily as it normally does.

Morning comes too soon. Rex wakes to the birds chirping outside, to the early streaks of dawn as she streams through your window. He’s still on his back, arm thrown over his head. The pillows are too soft. Beside him, you’re still mercifully asleep. Back exposed, arms wrapped around your pillow. Nose tucked into your bicep.

Shit. Rex has to leave. He glances over at your sleeping figure again, then slowly sits up. Despite trying his hardest not to disturb you, he’s unsuccessful. You stir beside him, shifting around and sitting up on your elbow, rubbing your eye.

“Hey.” Rex’s voice is rough in the morning air. “I gotta get going.”

You huff a sigh and flop onto your side. “Give me a second. I’ll make you coffee.”

“I really can’t stay,” Rex says. He keeps his hands to himself– The lustful era of the evening had been left before the sunrise. It wouldn’t be to his morals if he laid a hand, no matter how soft, against your skin.

You’re lifting yourself back up, duvet slipping down to your middle. “No, I– Let me.”

Rex’s eyes dip down to your breasts before back to your face. He’s already out of the bed. “I have to get back.”

“A cup of coffee isn’t going to kill you,” you insist, sliding out of the bed. You head over to your armoire, pulling an oversized sleep shirt out.

“Really, I appreciate the hospitality,” Rex repeats, pulling on his pants. “But—”

Rex’s protests land him sitting at the kitchen table, gaze torn between watching you make coffee and the view out the window he’s beside. You have a really nice view, overlooking Theed. However, you are also a really nice view.

With the fridge open, you pluck a carton out of it and set it on the table.

“I only have plant milk,” you say, “Hope it’s okay.”

“Oh, I drink my coffee black,” Rex says.

You blink at him. “You know, you look like you do.”

Rex hums. He watches appreciatively as you pour two mugs of coffee.

“Where do you have to be this morning?” You ask while handing him a mug and taking a seat beside him. You do not take your coffee black, and look like you don’t anyways.

Rex murmurs his thanks as he accepts the mug. He takes a sip before responding. The real answer is that he needs to be back at the ship before General Kenobi notices General Skywalker’s absence, and Rex is included in the “You know, Anakin, it’s important to remain focused on our missions at hand” spiel. Instead, he gives you: “Work. Before that I have to make sure everyone’s made it back from their nights.”

You desperately want to ask him if he’s one of those fabled clones that the Republic breeds. But it feels too personal. Too out of pocket. Instead, you settle on changing the topic entirely.

“You know, you have very distinguished features.”

Rex raises an eyebrow at you. “Pardon me?”

“Like… your nose and your eyebrows and your jaw.” You trace the features on your own face. “You look kind of like…” You remember that Rex had mentioned he didn’t have time for art the night prior, “Well, there’s this painting of a philosopher named Diogenes. You resemble him, but without the beard and the hair.”

It’s the strangest, and most detailed, compliment Rex has ever received. “Thank you?”

You hum, taking a sip of your coffee. “It is a compliment, by the way. He’s handsome in the painting.”

Rex takes another drink of coffee. It’s stronger than he’s used to, for sure. The stuff on the ship must be watered down to accommodate so many drinkers, and after tasting this cup, he’s not sure the coffee he’s used to is actually coffee. “What about you? Are you doing anything today?”

“No, I have the day off.”

Must be nice. “What are you going to do with it?”

You drum your fingers on the side of your mug. “Paint, probably. Maybe go for a walk. Practice my Gunganese.”

What a life of leisure. First, there’s an ache of jealousy that stokes itself deep within Rex. By tonight, he’ll be in a debriefing meeting about a planet that’s fallen under Separatist control. Then, it’s washed away with the reminder that he’s designed to allow for people like you to have lives of leisure. That life isn’t for him.

“I don’t know any humans who speak Gunganese,” Rex comments.

You sigh. “That’s the whole issue. The Gungans have been here long before humans and yet no one really speaks their language. I’ve been learning to try and at least smooth things over in a cultural sense. They have such a rich history with fascinating art pieces that I really want displayed in the museum, so people can learn more about them.”

Rex raises his eyebrows. The only Gungan he knows is Senator Binks who is… If Rex will allow himself a moment of selfishness, not his favorite person to be assigned duty to. “That’s quite noble of you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” You shrug.

“You speak any other languages?”

“My Rodian is really rusty. I took it in school, so I can write essays but my conversational isn’t very good. What about you?”

“Kaminoan.”

Your brows raise. “Really? What does it sound like?”

Rex chuckles, a little sheepish. “It’s nothing special. It’s not attractive or anything like that.”

“Rex, I literally speak Gunganese. I promise it’s probably more attractive than that.”

True. Rex clears his throat. Takes another sip of coffee. Thinks about what to say. When he sets his mug back down, he gives you a sentence. It rolls off his tongue, second nature.

It is attractive. All vowels and consonants that slide together. You cross your legs under the table.

“So, what did you say?

“That you make your coffee really strong.”

A blush rises on your cheeks. “There’s milk and sugar if you want it.”

“No, no, it’s not a bad thing,” Rex says quickly, “I like it. Really. It’s leagues better than what I normally get.”

“You’ll have to let me know the next time you’re in town,” You hum, finger tracing the mouth of your mug, “I’ll make you another cup.”

Rex’s heart tugs uncomfortably. That would be nice, wouldn’t it be?

“I don’t know when I’ll be back on Naboo,” Rex says, “But you've definitely made my visit worth more than I could have imagined.”

You hum at that, then stand from the table. You open a drawer and pull out a pad of paper, shaped in a heart, and find a pen. You scribble onto it, then tear it away.

“Here,” you say, passing the paper to him. “This is my frequency.”

There’s an x next to your name like a little kiss. Rex accepts the paper, and doesn’t bring up that there’s no way he’ll be able to contact you, not when all of his communication is heavily monitored. Instead, he tucks it into his pocket, where it feels warm against his thigh.

Rex leaves your apartment with a day-old croissant in his hand and the taste of berries and coffee lingering on his tongue. The sun seems brighter. The sky seems bluer. The birds seem to chirp in a melodic harmony. The walk back to the ship is pleasant. One that he doesn’t mind taking the long way for. After all, there are things for him to appreciate.

#captain rex x reader #by ophelia #i had to get this out of the docs it was sending me insane #pt 1 of ???

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