#Klick and Listen

[trd-blog-magazin]

Die Werbe-Stimme aus Grevenbroich

In der beschaulichen Stadt Grevenbroich hat sich eine außergewöhnliche Stimme in der Werbebranche etabliert. In einem kürzlich veröffentlichten Artikel erfahren wir mehr über die Sprecherin, die hinter zahlreichen bekannten Werbekampagnen von Lidl steht. Ihre warme und kraftvolle Stimme hat ihr nicht nur regionale Bekanntheit, sondern auch nationale Anerkennung verschafft. Grevenbroich gehört zum…

[nerdygirlramblings]

Stuck on Reader being someone like Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds, stationed in the US under Laswell

Off to See the Wizard (1)

next

eventual poly!141xfem!reader

TW: mentions of canon-typical violence

"You'll find exfil three klicks north, far side of lake," you say. You have the intel about their op open on the monitor to your left; the time in the corner reads 6:30pm. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you you skipped lunch, and you tell yourself you'll eat dinner when the op is done. Your eyes flick back to the time on the monitor in front of you. You can see Task Force 141's helicopter waiting; local time reads 4:00am. It's been a long few days, and you can't imagine how tired they are.

"tch, lass, 's a loch," Sergeant MacTavish whines. Despite sounding a little like a toddler needing a nap, his breathing pattern tells you he's moving quickly, trying to stay quiet.

"Copy that, Sergeant," you chuckle back. "Exfil's north of the loch." You wait a beat before adding, softly, "Get home safe, boys."

Captain Price's voice rumbles in your ear, "Copy that, Oz." He, too, waits a beat and says, "Thanks for the help."

You roll your eyes at the nickname: Oz, like the great and powerful wizard of. When you asked, Sergeant Garrick said it was due to how you seemed to anticipate their needs when you're Watcher. You tried telling them over and over again anyone doing your job would do the same, but they all swore you were Laswell's best. Their best. "You know there's no place like home, luv, and you make sure we get back every time," the Sergeant said. It made your heart flutter to hear it, and you have no idea how much their affection for you grows each time your magic gets them home safely.

You pull yourself out of your musings and focus on the drone feed for the next twenty minutes, needing to see all four heat signatures make it to the helo. As they cross into view, you immediately notice something off. They aren't filing in one at a time like usual. There's one out front and three together behind the first man.

"Bravo-6, what happened? I'm seeing unusual movement at the helo,” you say. You wait several long moments, listening to the crackle of satellite communications. You're about to say more when the Captain sighs.

"Gaz took a bullet," he said calmly. "It's a through and through, and Ghost already put Celox on it."

You try to calm your breathing, but even though you know, you know, these men have dangerous jobs, you can't help your reaction. One of your boys - not yours, not yours - is hurt, and you're an ocean and a half away. "Bravo-6, I'm putting in a forward call to your temporary base," you tell him as you bring up the base's medical building information over the op intel. "They'll be waiting on the tarmac for you." You haven't spoken to them yet, but you will make sure someone is there to take care of Sergeant Garrick.

"See, Oz, always ten steps ahead," the aforementioned soldier chuckles in your ear. Despite the distance, you can hear the strain in his voice.

“Don’t try to sweet talk me, Sergeant,” you scold. “Keep your strength,” you say more softly. “I- we want you back in one piece.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responds quietly.

Your office is quiet for the next few weeks. Laswell directs most operations to other groups, giving the 141 time to rest and recover, and while you support whomever Laswell tells you, your work is mostly with the 141. You've been their primary point of contact for nearly a year now.

Despite not covering them in the field, you're a bloodhound, following any scrap of gossip about your boys. You know after the bullet tore through his thigh on that last op, Sergeant Garrick - “Gaz, please, Oz. Or Kyle,” he insisted softly when you checked in - had multiple surgeries to repair the wound.

Months back, during an op that had them embedded on a snowy tundra for more than two weeks, you found yourself chatting quietly to whomever was on watch during your shift. You were their anchor to the real world, "Oor very ohn angel on the airwaves," Sergeant MacTavish cooed. One long, quiet night - local time - Lieutenant Riley mentioned some of the things from home they missed. You squirreled the information away, as you did everything you learned about them.

While Kyle was in surgery, you sent a care package to their barracks, timing the delivery with their return to Hereford. You needed to feel like you were doing something to aid in everyone's recovery. You didn't expect to receive a call from Captain Price - "None of this Captain stuff, yeah? Yer not one o' my men. It's Price or John to you, dove." - thanking you for "making the barracks feel a little more like home."

While Kyle recovers, Laswell sends the others out sporadically on short missions. You make sure to be on this side of the monitor when any of them are deployed. It's superstitious, but you fear what will happen if you aren't there to watch their backs. You keep Sergeant MacTavish from walking right into a hostile camp whose heat signatures barely registered on the drone. You'd missed it too, until a blip from what had to be the terror cell's servers made you look closer. Afterwards he says,"Ya watched me clear the place, bon. Ya knoo how ah got mah name. 'S time ya use it, ya ken?"

Another time you're watching John and Lieutenant Riley on a mission to liberate human cargo. The Lieutenant is in his sniper nest, waiting for the buyer, plying you with his dry humor as he's done before, and this time you have a response. "Hey, Lieutenant, why do seagulls fly over the sea?" You give him a moment to think before continuing, "Because if they flew over the bay, they'd be bagels."

He groans and follows with, "If we're trading jokes that bad, Oz, call me Simon. No leftenant in his right mind would chuckle at that rubbish." Unlike the others, he didn't want to give you the choice of using his call sign. He was no Ghost to you.

As each man offers more of himself to you, you fall harder. You are not aware they do it because they are all falling for you too and are trying to break down the walls between you.

Five weeks after Kyle's surgery, he's deemed fit for duty, and Laswell mentions an op that's going to embed the boys in the desert for close to two months at least. She wants someone forward at Hereford, acting under her direct authority, to minimize delays with intel, communications, and decisions. Unbeknownst to you, Price has all but demanded Kate send you.

She comes into your office early, startling you as you read over the details of the 141's new operation. It worries you: eight weeks embedded in Uzbekistan, where intel says there's been an uptick in black market trafficking of both weapons and people. The 141 are being tasked with sorting enemy from friend, identifying their buyers, routing their sources, and cutting off the supply chain. It's a massive undertaking, one you're sure will take longer than predicted. Your heart aches for what your boys will have to do.

Laswell stands in your doorway and says your name, pulling you from dark daydreams. "Yes, ma'am?" you ask.

"You got a go bag?" You don't answer. In theory you know what a go bag is, but you've never needed one in all the years you've worked for her, and she knows it. "I have a forward assignment for you. Three months, maybe more." She reads the confusion in your face and continues. "The 141's new op is bigger than we've done in quite some time. I need eyes and ears I trust over there, able to make smart decisions on the fly, and they need someone whose priority is a successful mission, and that includes getting them home safe." She pauses and lets the information settle. Then she holds your gaze. "That's you, Oz. I know it, and more, the boys know it. Other than me, you're our best chance of pulling this off the way it needs to be done."

You don't even need a moment to think. "What should I bring, and when do I leave?"

Laswell smiles wide.

In short order you're boarding a military transport with two duffle bags and a hard-side case full of your tech. Laswell said you'd be put up in the barracks and be given a secure workspace in one of the base's office buildings.

The flight is uneventful, so you spend the time mentally preparing for finally meeting the 141 in person. You feel like you know them from the little glimpses you've had into their lives, but this will be your first true interaction with them. You hope they aren't disappointed to see the woman behind the curtain.

You're going over your role for the hundredth time when the plane finally lands. You grab your bags and follow other personnel off the back of the bird into a damp, overcast day. Your watch says 11:00, but with the weather, it could be any time really. You want to settle your things down and find the base canteen for lunch before setting up your work space. As much as your heart thrums in your chest about finally meeting your boys, you remind yourself this is a job.

Price stands inside the open hanger door, watching everyone exit the transport. Laswell told him you'd be arriving today, and he wants to be here to greet you. He knows if he said something - if the boys knew you were the intelligence specialist Laswell was sending them - he'd have had to fight them all to stay away. He knows they're all a little in love with you. If he's honest with himself, he is too. Which is why he needs to run interference, or they might scare you off.

He finally sees a woman in civvies with a nondescript duffle bag slung over each shoulder and rolling a shiny silver piece of luggage that screams fancy technology. He walks over, catching your eye as you take in the details of your new surroundings. You don't startle much as he approaches; he likes that you keep your cool. That combined with the look on your face that isn't delight or awe, just a cool calculation, filing information away for later, raises you in his esteem even more. You slow your stride until he's right in front of you.

"Hello," you say cordially. Price is a little surprised. You're usually much warmer than this. But then he realizes he's never seen your picture and only knew it was you because everyone else on the plane was clearly a soldier. Perhaps you don't know who he is. Yet.

"Oz, dove, so glad to have you," he rumbles, holding out a hand. He sees the moment his words hit, your eyes opening a fraction wider, mouth popping open a bit.

"Oh! Captain Price?" You're hesitant but proffer your hand to shake his. You know his voice over comms, but in person, the rich timbre is more rounded and melodic. You'd question it, but he's the only one who's ever called you dove.

"'s me," he replies, warm hand wrapping around yours, "An' I'm not yer Captain, remember?" You feel his callouses against your palm, and you smile widely at him. His moustache twitches, and you see his crows feet crinkle. He seems pleased.

He reaches over and snags one of the duffles from your shoulder before you can muster a protest. He leans down for your equipment, but you hold fast to the handle. "Sorry, sir. Can't let this go 'til I've got it in a secure location." He hums at that, and you swear his smile grows.

"Knew you were who we needed here,' he says quietly. He looks you over again. "You must be tired. Let's get you settled, yeah?"

"That sounds lovely," you tell him. You follow in his wake as he makes his way across the base. He points out various buildings as you pass them: medical (not that you'll need it), gym (not that you'll want it), armoury (not that you're allowed in it), mess (not canteen), and various office buildings. Price stops at this last destination, leading you to the secure room (keypad entry only and you get to set the code) where you drop your equipment. For now, it's enough that it's in a safe place. You can set it up after some food and sleep. The 141 doesn't ship out for this op for another week, so you have time to settle in.

After you lock the door behind you, Price takes you past the training grounds to where the classrooms and barracks are. "This isn't much, but it's ours," he says, a little bashfully, ushering you into a small building on the edge of the training ground. You notice 'TF 141' painted in black over the door of the grey building. "Welcome to your temporary home away from home."

You stand in the entryway and look at Price. Clearly your emotions are all over your face because he huffs out a laugh. "Didn't Laswell tell you we were putting you up in our barracks?"

You splutter, shocked. No, she certainly did not! "She simply told me the barracks. I had no idea I'd be..." You wave your hand around the space. How will you cope with basically living with these men whom you've grown so fond of? You panic. They'll be able to read your feelings a mile away. They're highly trained SAS soldiers.

Price waits you out, silently cataloguing your physical changes. Your eyes dart around, never staying on one thing for long. You're breathing just a hair faster now, and through your mouth as if desperately trying to fill your lungs. There's a bead of sweat forming at your hair line. He can tell you're nervous, but he doesn't realize he's the cause, him and the rest of the 141, so he says, "If it's a problem, Oz, we can find a bunk in the women's quarters with the recruits. Laswell and I jus' thought you might prefer the quiet of personal quarters instead."

You quickly come back to yourself. "No, no, it's fine!" You know your voice is pitched too high, but you can't help it. You're being offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to live with these men and you refuse to lose it. "I was just a little surprised," you rush to continue. "I don't mind if you all don't." You look at Price and hope your smile isn't as deranged as it feels.

He chuckles softly, and the sound causes warmth to blossom in your chest. "A'right then. Come see the place, then I'll introduce you to the boys." He points down a short hallway to the left, noting where his and Leftenant (not lieutenant like you've been calling him) Riley's offices are and telling you there's one the Sergeants use that you're welcome to. In front of you are a pair of double doors Price says hide the common room and kitchen area. There's a door to your right he takes you through, and this is the living quarters with a communal bathroom at the far end. Most of the doors are closed, though a few are propped open. "Most task force units have nearly a dozen members, but we only got us four, so there's plenty of extra space. Take any open room ya want, dove." You almost ask where everyone else is to position yourself best, but in the end you take the interior room closest to the bathroom.

Your last stop is the shared space. You aren't sure what to expect from a space shared by a group of men with such very different personalities, but stepping in, it reminds you of the fraternity living spaces you'd been in during college. Two worn but comfortable looking couches and a mixed collection of wingback chairs and recliners are arranged in front of a large television. Wires peek out from an entertainment center under it, and you suspect more than one gaming system is hidden behind the doors. A few bookshelves stand like sentinels along the back wall, covered in various books and movies and games. To the left is a small kitchenette. You see an electric kettle and coffee maker on the counter next to a microwave and hot plate with cabinets beneath. There's a small refrigerator too.

You take in all these details in an instant before settling on the most important thing: the other members of the 141, who have all sat up, conversation forgotten, as Price leads you into the room. You barely have time to consider what they must make of you as Price starts introductions. He starts with his men, pointing first to a man who is the living embodiment of the Tasmanian Devil Looney Tunes character, all compact muscle and startlingly blue eyes with the most ridiculous, and completely against regulation, haircut you've ever seen. "That's Sergeant John MacTavish, but you can call him Soap." Price must not know you've been urged to do just that. He continues around the room to an absolute beast of a man: nearly as broad as he is tall in his seat and covered entirely in black. "Leftenant Riley, goes by Ghost." You blink; that's not at all what he told you, though you realize he never gave you his callsign at all. "And Sergeant Kyle Garrick. We call 'im Gaz." Price is pointing to a brown-skinned man who, if you weren't seeing him with your own eyes, you wouldn't believe really looked that good.

You're about to introduce yourself to the room when you catch a slight smirk on Price's face. He puts a hand on your lower back so gently you think it's an unconscious gesture. With a little pressure, he pushes you further into the space the men inhabit. "Boys, meet Laswell's intelligence agent, Oz, the Great and Powerful."

an: Whelp, this spiraled quickly out of my control. There is absolutely more as I haven't even gotten started.

series masterlist | main masterlist

[rabotimagines]

I keep rereading your decepticons with a cybertronian reader who calls them pet names, and j wanted to share the mental image I had.

Skywarp seeing them enter the room and sliding on his knees like “there goes my babyyyy” meme.

Meanwhile you, unphased just place a servo on his head as you inform Megatron of your lastest report.

I’m down bad 😔 and ily.

-Applin

*YouTubes meme* OH YEAH, totally 100% he would. Pspspsps Moot, come get your food @smallestapplin

Summary: GN Bot reader using human pet names!

G1 character: Skywarp!

Genre/Theme: Platonic but flirting

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Skywarps getting reamed out by you for a prank he pulled on Astrotrain. At least you didn't beat him if he didn't start slag himself first (like Screamer or Megatron). So Skywarp just stays where he is and waits for your mouth to stop moving. They won't punish him again for the same thing if you've already done it. But he's got more important things to do, y'know! Okay, maybe he stops listening and only starts again when you just up and grab Skywarp's jaw and yank him to focus back on your optics.

"Now c'mon babe, we both know we don't want to be here right now. Do us both a favor and focus the first time." Babe? Babe??? Skywarp didn't care a lot for the squishies and their culture but Skywarp knew what "babe" meant. His optics cycle once but he stays where he's staring at your faceplate as you keep ripping him apart with your words. You finish and Skywarp only realizes you're done after you wait for a klick for a response. When he doesn't respond you actually brush your em field up against his frame- You open your mouth again and Skywarp's still staring right into your optics when you start speaking again "Got that, sweetspark?"

Skywarp's wings hike up and his plating fluffs. "Uh yeah- yeah! I got it! Don't put dye in the communal wash racks- or something- got it!"

Your blank expression shifts and you smile at him. "Good boy. Don't do it again." Your em field brushes along the side of his helm and you just turn and leave him standing there. Skywarp watches you leave before his mouth shuts with a click.

Skywarps like a starved mech- it wasn't like any of them were getting any stuck on this mud ball in the middle of nowhere of the galaxy. He's not wasting the chance at something even if it was just affection and not interfacing. And slag it all it's been wayyyy too long since Skywarps even gotten flirted with by anyone. Yeah the violence and fighting of being a con was fun and all but he doesn't realize how much he missed the fun of this until you started flirting with everybody. Which, the fact you flirt with everybody? Skywarp gets annoyed over it. Skywarp wants your attention on him- c'mon he's doing soooo much better than Thundercracker right now! Stop calling him cute and start calling Skywarp cute instead!

It's like night and day suddenly when it's you he has to answer to vs Starscream or Soundwave. (Primus, below he's actually behaved- well as behaved as Skywarp can be.)

Then you come waltzing into the meeting room, and Skywarps warping out of his chair- Thundercrackers got his face in his servo already, and Starscreams already glaring in your direction knowing exactly where Skywarps going. You don't even flinch when Skywarp wraps himself around your waist. Servo petting Skywarp's helm while you just casually start reading off your report. Megatron bluntly asks if you rewired Skywarps personality module due to this being the first time he sees it. You just grin and give Megatron a look- which is apparently enough for an explanation and Megatron just scoffs and goes "I see." As they watch you praise Skywarp for completing what you asked him to do earlier in the cycle.

[mikuluvu]

HER LAST CALL

Summary: You and the team were in a mission, almost a whole swarm of enemies we're chasing you and the team. But when you stepped on pressure-triggered landmine with no way to disarm it, you made a unthinkable choice to be left behind so they can escape.

CW: Character death, Soap ooc??, Themes of grief and loss.

Tf141 x fem!reader

A/n: 3/10 COD fic posted! This one is a angst, i rlly love this fic mwa mwa. It was 4 out 4 pages in my google docs LMAOO. This was kinda a little bit of Soap x reader?

The jungle was filled with chaos, gunfire tore through the trees, and shouts of the enemies closed in. Task Force 141 and you moved through the bushes, their breathing ragged but their focus was steady. The extraction helicopter was only three klicks away, the sound of its blade barely heard over the gunshots.

“Move, move! They’re on our six!” Ghost’s voice barked through the comms.

Soap glanced back, looking the silhouettes running towards them. “Christ, they’re swarmin’ like bloody ants! We need to pick up the pace!”

Price pushed forward at the front, his rifle raised as he led the team. “Eyes up! Stick together, and keep fuckin’ moving!”

You ran in the middle of the team, your lung burning. The mission had gone sideways hous ago, and now it was a race for survival. 

The enemies was close, too close. But then, as you pushed through a particularly thick path of brush, it happened.

Click.

Your boot froze mid-step. For a moment, you didn’t register what it was. But then the cold, horrifying reality hit you like a train. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down. There, placed beneath your foot, was the edge of a land mine.

“Shit,” you whispered. Your body went rigid, “No, no, no…”

Soap, who has been keeping close behind you, halt to a stop as he noticed your sudden halt. “Y/n! Fuckin’ move it! We’re dead if-” His words dies as he saw the look on your face. His eyes followed yours to the ground, and his expression instantly turned grim.

“Fuck,” he muttered, crouching down beside you. “Pressure-triggered?”

You nodded, you voice shaky but calm. “I-if I lift my foot, it’s game over.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Soap hissed, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright, don’t panic. We can figure this out. There’s got to be a way-”

“Soap.” you cut him off through his rambling. “You know there’s no way out of this.”

The rest of the team realized both of you were gone, making them double back, forming a tight circle around you. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Ghost said,

“She stepped on a mine,” Soap said quickly, his jaw clenched. “One of those pressure-sensitive one. If she moves, it’ll blow.”

“God damn it,” Price muttered, dropping to one knee to see the situation. Gaz stood nearby, firing gunshots into the jungle to keep the enemies at bay,

“We’ve got to disarm it,” Soap said, his voice growing more frantic. “Or… or swap out somethin’ for the pressure.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Gaz cut in, “They’re right behind us!” he yelled, as he keeps on shooting.

Price’s hand hovered over the mine, but hesitated, “It’s too risky,” he admitted. “Even if we had time, there’s no guarantee we could disarm it without triggering it.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to speak through the lump in your throat. “Then… you have to leave me.”

Those words hung heavy in the air, like a gunshot. Everyone froze, their eyes snapping to you, because you suggested something unthinkable.

“Not happenin’,” Ghost said instantly.“Listen to me,” you said, your voice trembling. “They’re closing in. If you stay here, we’re all dead. I can buy you time to get to the helicopter.”

“No,” Soap snapped. “We don’t leave anyone behind, and we’re not starting now.”

“Soap…” You reached out, gripping his arm. “You have to, There’s no way to save me without costing everyone else their lives.”

Ghost took a step closer, “We’ve been through worse. We’ll find a way-”

“You fucking can’t!” you shouted, tears stinging your eyes. “There’s no way outt of this, and you know it!”

The team fell silent, the weight of your words sinking in. Price stood up slowly, “She's right,” he said quietly. “We’re out of time.”

Soap stood up and whipped around, glaring at him. “You’re just gonna leave her? Just like that?” 

“Do you think I want to do this?” Price snapped, his voice cracking. “Do you think any of us do? But if we stay, she dies and we die. We’ve got to make the hard call.”

Soap turned back to you, his eyes pleasing. “There’s gotta be another way,” he whispered. “Please.”

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice, but you steeled yourself. “There isn’t. Soap, you have to go.”

Gaz grabbed Soap’s shoulder, pulling him back. “She’s giving us a chance to get out of here. Don’t waste it.”

Ghost lingered, his dark eyes burning into yours. “You don’t deserve this,” he said quietly.

You smiled weakly, your tears finally spilling over. “Just promise me you’ll make it out,” you said. “All of you.”

“We will, love” Price said, his hand gripping your shoulder and looking at you with his now soft eyes.

Ghost hesitated a moment longer, then turned away, his hands gripping his gun tightly. Soap looked back at you one last time, “I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“Don’t be,” you said, your voice breaking. “Just go.”

And then they were gone. The sound of gunfire grew louder as they closed in. Your gripped your gun tightly, your heart pounding as you prepare yourself.

“This is where I make it count,” you whispered to yourself. 

The first wave burst through the trees, and you opened fire, cutting them down one by one. You fought with everything you had, holding your ground as long as possible. The sound of the helicopter’s rotors grew faintly louder in the distance, a reminder that they were almost safe.

You closed your eyes, and then the mine detonated, englufing the jungle in a blinding flash of light. 

.

.

.

.

The team was silent, their boots heavy as they walked through the compound. 

Laswell was already waiting for them, she noticed the missing member immediately.

“Where… is she?’ she asked, 

Price stopped in front of her, his hat pulled low over his face. He didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, “She didn’t make it.”

Laswell’s breath hitched, “What happened?”

“She stopped on a pressure mine,” Gaz said softly, “There was no time to defuse it. She… she stayed behind so we could make it out.”

Soap, who has been silent until now, suddenly snapped. “It shouldn’t have happened!” he shouted. “She didn’t have to fuckin’ die! We could’ve done something! Anythin’, but we just fucking left her there-”

“Soap,” Price said, his voice low but firm.

“No!” Soap turned to Price, “you were the one who agreed to leave her”

He didn’t react, “She made the call, Johnny. She made it for us.”

“And we listened,” Soup muttered bitterly, sinking onto a nearby chair. “We bloody fuckin’ listened.”

A/n: Wooohooo! sorry for this... (Im rlly not) I hoped you all liked this <3 Feel free to request Tf141 x reader! or any of the characters!

Reblogs w/comments are appreciated! You can support me through buying me a coffee!

[benihana-circumcision]

Listen man yeah i get it it'd be cool to pilot a mech robot that jerks u off while u engage in dog-based narrative motifs but you chuuni motherfuckers are Really fumbling the bag by not hedging your bets on learning to be repairbay techs. have fun risking ur life and getting ur sense of self electrochemically decimated while u commit Gooner Warcrimes i'll be chilling in climate control 15 klicks beneath the main barrier of the geofront sippin state-subsidized chicory synth-caf while "supervising the print fabs" (read: scrolling holofeed and getting hit on by the overbearing 40something IT techs)

[towriteloveontheirarms]

After Nightfall (dark!modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

synopsis: Her low, raspy voice is light-hearted and though you know she is joking, you can´t shake the feeling of the hair at the nape of your neck standing up and the skin on your arms prickling.

“I´m fine.” You mutter rather dismissively. Taking a large gulp of the pretty, pink drink in front of you. (side Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

warnings: non-con, confessions, angst, smut, semi public sex, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), p in v, afab reader

word count: 4k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @legitalicat

(If you want to be tagged for any specific character/series/fandom or in general on my fanfic or moodboards let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: This one is a little darker so if you don´t feel in the right mindspace to read this right now there is no shame in klicking away and maybe come back another time. I love you all!

Dividers by @djarrex

“Okay, I´m gonna say something right now, yeah? But you can´t judge me for it. No matter how controversial it.” You say, barely holding back the nervous giggles as you look at Helaena with a look that made her promise.

“We listen and we don´t judge.” She holds up her palms defensively.

It makes you feel safe enough to burst out the confession. “I´m so desperate I might have gotten turned on by how Aegon looked at me earlier.”

The words almost jumble together by how fast they get pushed out of your lungs. Followed by a squeak and your hands coming up to hide your burning face at the sight of the immediate shock written onto your friend’s face.

“No! You can´t mean that. Seriously? Aegon?” She asks over a disbelieving laugh and bulging eyes. Her mouth gaping ever so slightly at the revelation.

“Yes, Aegon! And you said you wouldn´t judge…” You whine, barely able to hold back a chuckle of your own as you lower your hands to look at your friend again.

“I´m not judging. I´m just… asking.” The blonde woman across the kitchen table defends herself. “Because you know he has been flirting you since we were old enough to know what that is, right?”

Your response is a heavy sigh. “I know, I know. But I dare you to have a dry spell this long, filled with only bad dates and not start getting thoughts when someone undresses you with their eyes so openly any chance they get.”

“Please, you gotta have some standard left. What happened to ‘I wouldn´t even touch him with a ten-foot pole’?” Helaena pauses and looks to the side. “Oh, hi Aemond.”

You follow her gaze and see that her younger brother had just entered the room. Waving back at him as he nods to the two of you in greeting whispering a soft hey.

According to Helaena he had always been shy towards strangers and had stayed so even in your grown age now. But you were by far no stranger anymore. Helaena and you had been friends since first grade, and you had accompanied the family on multiple visits to their summer home. In all fairness you thought it was kinda cute how nervous he seemed to be around you. The way he stuttered and blushed gave a bit of life to his otherwise cold and rebelliously emo looks. And a crush never hurt anyone. Most times at least. There was a reason why anyone barely ever talked about the cases when it did. Aemond leaves the two of you alone and you continue the previous discussion. This time around you can´t shake the feeling of a gaze burning into your back though. Any time you turn around to the entrance though, there is no one to be seen.

“Are you okay?” Helaena asks with a huffed chuckle, tilting her head to the side. “Scared Aegon heard you and makes your wishes come true?”

Her low, raspy voice is light-hearted and though you know she is joking, you can´t shake the feeling of the hair at the nape of your neck standing up and the skin on your arms prickling.

“I´m fine.” You mutter rather dismissively. Taking a large gulp of the pretty, pink drink in front of you.

Together the two of you head outside to the pool side where you lay down on the sun chairs. Your body, clad in a skimpy one-piece bathing suit, barely hidden underneath a cover up is covered in goosebumps. Despite the comfortable warmth left by the sun. After a while of trying to relax, one last shiver runs down your spine and the previous uncomfortableness is gone. Like someone has pushed a switch. Thoughts of why you are so hung up on something like this persist though. Running around your brain in circles. Thinking about it deeper you realize that this wasn´t the first time you had felt like that in the house or on the premises. You had always chalked it up to the house being massive and old and someone has once been spying on someone else around here somewhere hundreds of years ago. Like in the Middle Ages or something. But now it did feel so much like that anymore.

A week later you find yourself in much a similar spot. This time a few hundred miles further south. The whole Hightower-Targaryen family had left for their summer home once more and as Helaena´s friend of course the invitation was extended to you as well. The reach was nice, and Helaena and you have always spent nothing short of memorable vacations there. However, this time around it´s too hot to do anything. Anything but try to keep body temperatures as low as possible by dangling your feet in the pool and enjoying ice cold drinks while gossiping with your best friend. And you weren´t about to complain about that. Not if it came served with this gorgeous environment that you couldn´t afford in a thousand lifetimes.

The two of you spend barely any time away from the pool unless it is to sleep. So, it is no wonder that it goes entirely unnoticed that by halfway through the vacation most of your underwear has gone missing. Disappearing right from the guest room into thin air while you were sprawled out and exchanging glances over a cigarette or your sunglasses with Aegon. Meanwhile, Aemond's absence goes unnoticed. Disregarded as something normal. The perfect excuse to spy on you. One hand down his pants, rubbing furiously at the straining length. A used pair of your panties wrapped snugly around it. His one good eye roaming over your strategically placed inviting figure splayed out on the sun lounge. The free hand props him up against the wall beside the window. With frantic motions he spills himself into the lace fabric, a subdued whimper filling the empty room, just as you rise to your feet. Shedding the cover up and throwing it to the side to dive into the pool. With ragged breaths Aemond buries the soiled fabric at the bottom of the laundry basket and moves away from the window. Before anyone can look up and see him. He almost felt bad at his actions. Almost. The tingling of pleasure left behind in his limbs from his previous actions did well to mask any other feeling. He doesn't realise how lucky he is to not get caught for so long.

“What the fuck?” You whisper under your breath on the last day of the vacation.

You had just walked into your room in the middle of the day to get your sunglasses which you had forgotten to grab before heading out with Helaena. Only to find one of your panties, which by now you had noticed gone missing, laid down perfectly on the large bed. The lacy fabric standing out against the beige of the bedsheets and standing out from the colour of the lace underwear, white stains. Well not quite dried into stains yet but rubbing the fluid between your thumb and forefinger leaves no doubt as to what was currently soaking into the fabric. For a moment you stand there as your mind races with thoughts of who could have done this. You hadn't seen anyone but Helaena and, very briefly that morning, her mother Alicent so anyone could come into question. And for your own mental health your brain settles on Aegon. Taking it as a hint, a consequence of flirting for the entire vacation with it not going anywhere yet. It's the least unsettling possibility to think about and being honest with yourself, the drop that made the cup overflow, in a way. Nevertheless, you tuck the panties into a safe place and head out again. Wanting to make use of the fact that the day was finally cool enough to go out and enjoy some time somewhere other than on the brink of heat stroke no matter the precautions.

Helaena and you are out all day. Being greeted by her brothers when you come back in the evening. Revealing the house was all yours for the last night as their mother and grandfather had to go back just a little earlier for business in the morning. The glint in Aegon's eyes tells you exactly what that means even before he pulls the neatly rolled joints out of his pocket. Smoking with him wasn't anything strictly restrained to the times when Alicent and Otto were out of the house, but with them gone it could be done a lot more openly and without having to worry about the smell. Outside, on the wide-ranging lawn, laid back on a large blanket. It was one of the rare occasions that the four of you all came together. And even rarer was that it happened in peace. There was no sibling fighting, which especially with Aegon and Aemond was so rare you thought about celebrating every time it did.

After dinner the four of you would head out into the garden. Everyone carrying some snacks or drinks, ready to enjoy a peaceful last night. Passing around the joints, revelling in the smoke filling your lungs and laying a veil over your brains as you slip into separate conversation. Beside you Helaena and Aemond start a deep talk that you only listen in on every nnow and again. Meanwhile Aemond watches you and Aegon laugh over the most stupid shit. Muttering jokes under your breaths to each other, leaning forward to be closer to each other. He grinds his teeth as you playfully shove his older brother by the arm and play with your hair. Aemond was sure that even with the weed numbing your senses Aegon couldn't ever possibly be that funny. The blood boils through his veins at the sight and yet he can't take his eyes off you.

Even if the others notice it, you don’t, and they don't say anything. There is nothing to a harmless flirtation after all. Soon enough Helaena bows out and seeing as you just pluck the joint from between Aegon's lips, Aemond stands up as well with so much as a growl and balled fists, though unlike his sister he doesn't head inside directly. Instead, he hides somewhere halfway to the house. Unable to take his eye off you.

With the others gone the tension between you and Aegon grows heavier yet, coming to a peak since you have started flirting weeks ago. And at the same time both of you are suddenly flooded with uncertainty on how to continue, but your hands twitch. Eager to make contact with the other's body. Slowly you inch closer to where you are sitting across from him until your feet stand on each side of his legs. When he doesn't move away, your hand inches closer until the pads of your fingers feel the surprisingly soft skin of Aegon's inner thigh right underneath the hem of his linen shorts. Instantly his leg twitches, leaning into it further just a second later. Aegon's legs spread a little more to allow his upper body to lean closer to you. Barely audible whimpers escape him at your ministrations and the way his hard length rubs against the inside of his shorts. Taking one last puff of the joint between your fingers, you carefully put it aside. Pressing the now free hand against his lips to keep him as quiet as possible.

“Ssshhh, wouldn't want anyone to catch us. Would we?” You whisper. Unable to hold back a giggle at the eagerness behind Aegon’s responding nod.

Your hand wanders to the apex between his thighs. Cupping the clothed, hardened length to provide just the smallest amount of stimulation. Aegon´s hips buck off the ground in response to it, searching for more of it. Then you feel his tongue against your fingers. Licking first but quickly wrapping around two digits. Sucking them into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. This time it is your lips that leave out an affected whimper. The hand between his legs trembling as it opens the button and pulls down the zipper to take out his cock. Under Aemond´s hidden but ever watchful gaze, you lick your palm before wrapping around Aegon´s length, pumping it up and down at a teasingly slow pace. The same time as Aemond´s hand finds its way into his own pants. Imagining himself in Aegon´s stead at that moment as he grips onto the wall beside him and biting his lower lip to ground himself so he wouldn´t be heard whimpering as he mimics your hands speed. Thinking how soft your hands would be, how they would look wrapped around his arousal.

A pleased sigh brings him back to reality. A reality in which Aegon had just buried two fingers in your heat. Your head falls forward being half obscured by shadows, still even from afar it is visible how your jaw hangs open loosely around the sound that has just escaped. With a wet pop, you pull your fingers away from Aegon's mouth. Holding onto his shoulder to keep yourself upright instead.

“Please, faster.” Aegon whimpers just loud enough for you to hear.

The words broken up. One soft spoken and one whispered desperately. His fingers curling inside your velvety channel, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your clit as added encouragement. Electric shocks zap through your legs, thighs snapping shut to keep his hand in place, making it hard not to give in to his plea. Almost instantly your hand begins pumping faster up and down his girth. And so does Aemond. Listening to the quiet, but lewd sounds from your mouth. Letting them spur him on, drive him closer to the edge of his pleasure. Shutting his eye tightly, Aemond bites his lip to keep silent as ropes of cum shoot from his cock. Imagining painting your face instead of the concrete underneath his feet. Only a few moments before Aegon and then you reach your peaks as well. So, while you two are still distracted by catching your breaths and fixing your clothes, Aemond slips into the house.

You make your way inside shortly after. Alone, to not raise suspicion. Face still warm and body tingling with satisfaction, when you quite literally walk into him in the hallway to the guest rooms.

“Oh, sorry.” You apologize in an instant, stumbling back a few steps.

Feeling a cold wall press against the warm skin of your back, you subconsciously run a hand through your hair. Your lashes flutter and your slightly parted lips release a breath as you look up at him. He catches your scent, weed and sweat but still that warm scent that is uniquely you and it's like a flip is switched in Aemond's brain. His eye visibly darkens when it roams over your form and suddenly the air in the hallway feels cold. He had always been taller than you, but in this moment, standing with a straight back Aemond towers over you even more. A small gasp escapes your lips as one of his hands connects to the wall right beside your face.

“A-Aemond what…?” Your eyes search his.

The only answer you get at first is a deep growl. “It sounds so good when you say my name.”

“What are you doing?” You demand to know though the demand is undermined by the whispering tone of your voice.

The change in his behaviour pulls the rug from underneath your feet and it feels like you are struggling not to fall into a gorge. Feet half over the edge, arms flailing and body struggling to keep from falling forward. Only to be given the last missing push by his following words.

“You are so pretty.” Aemond mutters lowly against your lips. “Aegon couldn´t ever worship you like you deserve.”

You gasp. At the closeness and at the possibility of him having seen what you did in the garden. Or if it was simply a reaction to having seen you two talk. The thought of having been not only caught but also watched in the act sends a cold shower down your spine. Shuddering as Aemond moves ever so slightly closer until there is barely any room for air left between the two of you.

“Not like I could.” He lets out a raspy growl. “Gods, I´m crazy for you.”

A flip switches in your own brain that moment, your eyes widening as you think back to the disappearing underwear and the ´gift’ you had found on your bed earlier. The likelihood of Aegon being the culprit being eradicated at a rapid pace.

“What are you saying?” You ask again.

This time with a less shaky voice. You just have to make sure, even though your mind still refuses to fully accept.

“You already know, darling. I know you found my little present for you. Seeing you walk around in these skimpy bathing suits every day for two weeks… It´s no wonder I can´t control myself.” Aemond cups your cheek in one hand when he answers.

There is a small smile turning the corners of his mouth upwards. It makes you break out in a cold sweat. Had he been the reason why you had felt watched at any given moment too? A stupid question with an obvious answer, but your mind races. Helplessly questioning everything that ever happened, every word exchanged. Somehow trying to find the fault in your own actions when there was none.

“Why?” You are sure you don´t want an answer to that question, but it is out before you can hold it back.

“Because you were stuck seeing me as nothing but the little boy I was when you and Helaena became friends. So busy looking for love anywhere but right in front of you…” He rasps, stealing a quick peck from your lips.

Your eyes widen even further, body frozen in place from the act that is so saccharine and so in contrast to the whole situation that you can´t help but feel the need to run. Damned to be stuck in the moment.

“I could give you everything you want. Everything you need.” Another peck is stolen from your lips.

Then one is placed against your cheek, and another to your jawline, your teeth instantly clenching. And then more follow down the side of your neck.

With no fight put up against from your side, as you are unable still stuck in your position pressed against the wall, his hand has free reign to leave your cheek and gently push up the flimsy shirt you are wearing. His touch is feather light and reverent. Tracing the soft skin around your areolas and then closing in around your nipples. “Aemond…” You whimper, trying to lean away from him but being stopped by the wall still in your back. “I´ve loved you for so long. Let me show you.” He takes you into the nearest room and lays you onto the bed. Your body listening to him more than your own brain. It´s easy giving into him. To just let him do what he wants and in the morning you would all leave anyway. It's almost warm. His touch. His palms roaming up and down your sides in soothing circles. Mirroring the sentiment of his previous words. On the inside though nothing can pierce the cold dread at what is to come first. Then there is a strange calm settling inside you. There is no stopping him and getting away with it. Not realistically.

Aemond quickly discards of your shirt before gently laying you back down again. His tongue traces down over the pulse point at the side of your neck in an instant. Alternating it with wet, open-mouthed kisses once he reaches your collar bones. A shiver runs through you as he nibbles on your breasts and suckles on the nubs atop until the are standing hard at attention. Only then he steadily goes lower, from the valley between your mounds over the soft expanse of your stomach, down to the waistband of the maxi skirt that covered your legs. His hands follow down your sides at the same pace as his hands. Pulling down all the fabric that separates your skin from his direct touch, without ever taking his lips away.

Your thighs, which are pressed together tightly, but at the gentlest tap of his fingers against them, they open. Mentally bracing yourself for the intrusion of his fingers that follows shortly after. Tracing two slender digits along the slit, gently pushing them inside the warmth of your core. The velvety walls clamp down on his fingers until you will them to relax. Aemond´s breath shudders, fanning over the growing wetness as he watches his fingers disappear into the channel with rapt attention. His thumb laying on your clit to rub gentle circles into it.

It feels wrong. The wetness that begins to collect between your thighs and coats his fingers. It shouldn´t be there. You shouldn´t be there. And yet it still is, you still are and as if with a mind of its own, your body writhes against the soft sheets. The whimpers that fall from your lungs feel foreign, drawing the attention of his gaze upwards. In return your eyes screw shut tight. There is no need to look at him to know of the desire etched onto his sharp facial features and shimmering in his eye. You try instead to think yourself out of this room. Imagine you are anywhere but in this room, at this moment. Only to be brought back by the sound of his belt buckle.

Aemond doesn't even take the time to undress. Barely pulls out his still hard cock and runs it against your slit before aligning it with your entrance. The tip breaches your channel, when one of his hands props him up beside your head and the other finds your cheek.

“Look at me. Please.” He urges you, waiting until your eyelids flutter open to continue talking. “I love you. I mean it. I love you so much.” Stealing a kiss from your lips once more, Aemond pushes his length inside of you until he bottoms out. Visibly revelling in the whimper that forcefully pushes past your lips. There is a moment of pause, in which he lets you get used to the feeling of his cock inside of you, that is filled only with the sound of both of your breathing and the rustling of the sheets beneath you. The rest of the house is deadly quiet.

When he begins to move, your body is shaken by every languid, smooth roll of his hips. The cold silver chain with the small seven-pointed star pendant dangling just over your face.

“You feel so good.” Your nails dig into the mattress when you hear the whispered words.

Damp palms pressed against silk sheets, forcing your eyes to keep looking at him like he wants no matter how much your head aches to turn away from him. It´s like a mantra echoing in your mind repeatedly. It´s gonna be over tomorrow, just make it until tomorrow. But seconds turn into eternities underneath his muscular frame, held in place with only one of his hands laid gently against your cheek. The thought alone is sickening. And the coil that winds in your stomach makes you feel even sicker at yourself and the world. Nevertheless, it coils tighter. And tighter and tighter. Much to Aemond´s delight. Whose erection twitches eagerly once he pulls out. The hand beside your head gets taken away, back to your clit to resume rubbing circles into the swollen flesh. Only a few to force you over the edge, all while he grinds his soaked cock against your slit.

With a needy whimper from above, his release painting your lower stomach in white splatters.

For a moment there is only huffed breathing as he remains hunched over you for a bit longer. Then Aemond rolls of you. Pulling you with him to lay on your side, hugged securely against him. Your eyes burn when you finally get the chance to hide your face from him. Your breathing staying at its laboured pace long past his, but not a single tear crosses your lower lash line. And in another miracle, you can even force yourself to fall asleep beside him. His confessed feelings and all he had done ringing in your ear the entire time.

[kutyozh]

not only langblr music resources

people irl often ask me where the heck i find the music i listen to, so i figured i might as well make a handy resource masterpost!

Radio Garden: Listen to radio stations all over the world. You can save your favourite stations, explore radio playlists, and search for stations in specific countries or cities. Love this one. You can download the app (android and apple) or listen via your preferred browser.

Radiooooo: Lets you choose a country, a decade, and a 'genre' (slow, fast, or weird) to listen to. You can download the app (android and apple) or listen via your preferred browser.

Charts: Charts can be tricky if you're looking for music in a specific language since there are multiple languages present in most country specific charts. It is nevertheless worth checking them out. Top 40 Charts or Popnable are your places to go. Popnable has some additional features like playlists that you can find in the "Discover" section.

beehype: Filter music by continent or country. Main page shows featured articles to browse.

Tunefind: Heard a song in a film or tv show that you enjoy but can't find it in the credits? This is the website for you! I use it when shazam fails me or when I'm at the cinema and can't use it or w/e. The songs sometimes come with a description of the corresponding scene for easy checking. Just very handy to have on hand.

Last.fm: Copy this link template: https://www.last.fm/tag/[nationality]/artists and replace [nationality] with a nationality you want to explore, e.g. "french", "chinese" etc.

Wikipedia: Type into the search bar "music of [country]", e.g. "music of slovakia", "music of botswana" etc.

Local events: Check for concerts etc. in your area. I know this is not an option for everyone for a bunch of reasons, but if it is for you, visiting local concerts can be a gold mine. I got like ten whole new songs in spanish and one in rapanui from one event I went to (it was like a culture fest with singing, dancing, and poetry). Also listening to live music just connects you differently to the art imo.

Friends & Acquaintances: Last but not least; sometimes my nosiness beats my social anxiety and I simply ask people what they like to listen to. If I'm being extra confident, I ask if they listen to music in languages other than english. Go forth and ask people about their music, go go go!!

Spotify specific recs:

Every Noise At Once: Sounds overwhelming - and tbh it can be. For this reason I personally prefer to look at 'Genres by Country', although there are many other interesting playlists to look at, such as 'We Built This City On' or 'The Sounds of Places'. You can find more if you scroll all the way to the bottom. Unfortunately, due to the layoff of the creator of this site, some features are not available anymore. This website is entirely based on Spotify.

Discover Quickly: This one might become a game changer for me personally. How it works: Log in with your spotify account. Choose one of your playlists, saved albums, followed artists etc. All relevant songs will show up as tiny thumbnails. You will hear a sample when hovering over them. Klicking on one of the thumbnails will lead you to the artist's overall releases as well as related artists. You can add your finds directly to a playlist!

LindsayDoesLanguages: Individual language playlists + more

Shameless self promo - my own account with individual language playlists. Also on YouTube !

700+ Languages: A playlist by Matthew Bofenkamp that contains one (1) song per language, and as it says on the tin, Matthew has so far collected songs in over 700 languages. Might be a good starting point for more music in your language of interest! Accompanying g0ogle spreadsheet with youtube links here.

One Song in Every Language: A community playlist by looky_dooky that aims to collect one song in every language. Everyone with a spotify account can contribute.

Another research tip: If you're on desktop, a good way to find language specific playlists is to go to any artist's profile and scroll down to the "Discovered on" section, then click "show all". Voilà!

(These showed up when I visited Haleluya Tekletsadik's page)

[authorhjk1]

The Roman Goddess (part II)

Sana X Male Reader

The taxi ride to her hotel feels like it's taking hours. Her white top still shows hints of your last moment alone. Since then, the two of you met not a lot of people. Only a couple of oblivious visitors and the taxi driver.

The later was staring at her for a couple of moments as the two of you got in. It wasn't your place to say something, she is married after all. But you can't really blame him.

Even after you just had her kneeling half naked in front of you, you still glance at her every two seconds.

You still feel like you are dreaming. How you managed to pull it off still remains a mystery to you. Or maybe she was looking for someone anyway? And you were just the first guy to hit on her?

Maybe. And even if that's the case, you don't really care. As long as she is taking you to her hotel room, you don't care why she is doing this.

"What's your name by the way?"

The taxi driver's radio is too loud for him to understand what the two of you are saying. Italian words echo through the car.

The young woman raises an eyebrow.

"Now you are curious? After you came on me?"

You feel your cheeks heating up, but you see how the left corner of her mouth moves upwards a little.

"Y-You asked me to."

She tilts her head as if she is trying to recall the scene in the museum.

"You sound like I forced you to do that."

Somehow she did. Or at least her body. Who wouldn't want to cum on her chest? Especially if she says she wants it?

"So?"

You brake the silence after a couple of moments. Although it's anything but quiet in the car. As far as you can tell, the driver is listening to a soccer game.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you."

"I just came on your chest. Shouldn't you trust me by now?"

You see her smirking, intrigued by the way you used her words against her.

"I won't tell you my name. Just in case."

She finally turns her head towards you, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

"Just call me Venus."

"Venus?"

You can't help but chuckle.

"Didn't we already establish that you are like Aphrodite?"

'Venus' shrugs her shoulders. An elegant gesture coming from her.

"You said that Venus was more important."

You nod quietly.

You feel out of place. You've never been to such a hotel before. Everything looks expensive. The white marble floor, the cedar wooden reception desk, the golden elevator doors with pretty engravings.

The lobby just looks insane to you. But Venus just walks through the big hall, her head raised high, her confident stride makes her heels klick on the floor.

Trailing behind her, you see how well dressed everyone is. It's not like your outfit sucks, a simple white shirt and jeans, but the other guests are wearing suits and dresses.

"Mrs. Minatozaki."

The receptionist greets her, handing her the key for her room. Her name sounds Japanese.

"And this is a package that just arrived. It's for you."

"Thank you."

Venus, or Mrs. Minatozaki, takes the small box and walks towards the elevator. You follow her, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.

As soon as she throws the package on the bed, she turns around. You tried to see what her room looked like, or rather suite, but her intense gaze makes you focus on her.

"Come here."

She whispers, slinging her arms around your neck. You lean down, meeting her halfway as the two of you start to indulge into each other's lips.

You realize that your hands once again are exploring her body. As if you can't get enough. Her curves feel so good underneath the fabric.

"Fuck, your lips taste so good,-"

You catch her pause.

"I need a name for you too."

Her lips leave yours, before they kiss your cheek, moving towards your neck.

"Any suggestions? It should fit mine."

It's hard to concentrate, when you have a woman like Venus kissing your neck. Impossible even. But you luckily know your way around Roman mythology.

"Mars."

You feel one of her hands slide down your back.

"Mars fits the theme."

"And who is that?"

You don't know if she is pretending or not, but you feel her hand reaching your crotch. Yours are on her waist. Still amazed by how small it is, you try your best to explain.

"The Roman god of war. And agriculture."

You feel her chuckle into your neck.

"That's an interesting combination."

"Well,.. "

You can't stop it. Your history nerd side comes back to life. Despite the fact that Venus is slowly letting her fingers glide over your jeans.

"That combination is a characteristic of early Rome. Military and farming both have their peak during the summer. It makes sense to me."

You feel her bite you skin slightly.

"Are you gonna keep talking? Or do you want to fuck?"

"T-The second one."

"Me too. Mars."

She whispers, before backing away.

It feels weird to be called by a name of a god.

"Give me just a minute."

Venus takes the package and disappears into the bathroom.

Standing alone, you are not quite sure what to do. Take your clothes off? Stand in place? Get on the bed?

Your eyes roam the big room as you realize how much this must cost. Hundreds. Maybe even a thousand a night or something.

Even the bed looks like the best you've ever seen. It's almost three times as big as yours. Golden ornaments are decorating its wooden bed frame.

You decide to get rid off your clothes. A moment later you are lying on the soft mattress, only in your underwear. Then, the door opens. You feel your jaw dropping in amazement.

Venus leans against the white doorframe.

Her black lace bra shows her porcelain like skin underneath. Her tits look a little bigger than before. Her panties match her bra. Black lace. It shows of how small her waist is. Her toned stomach really makes her look like a goddess. The black straps that connect her stockings with her panties each have a golden ring in the middle. The heels she is wearing complete her all black outfit

"I see you like it?"

You look down at your crotch. That's a very clear yes.

Watching her walk over to you almost makes you drool. Her hips sway from left to right, her hair, now lose, follows the same rhythm.

"I don't even remember the last time my pussy was filled."

She crashes down on you, not giving you time to react, when she reaches the bed. Landing on top of you, you feel her center rub against yours. Her hands in your hair. Her lips on yours once again.

The two of you exchange a passionate kiss, her hands slowly going through your hair. Yours are traveling down her back, until they reach their destination. You squeeze her cheeks, making Venus moan into your mouth.

"Naughty boy."

She coos, before she slides down your body. Her tits graze your covered crotch in the process. Once her face is on the right hight, she pulls your boxers off.

"I've already missed this so much."

She sighs, before diving in. Without a word of warning, you feel how Venus swallows your cock. Her warm mouth makes you groan as you sink into the cushions.

Reaching down, you hold her hair back as her head bobs up and down. Her blowjob is messy. Her saliva is starting to get everywhere. Your cock, your balls, your thighs, the mattress.

The only thing you can do is watch. Her eyes lock onto yours, trying to stare into your soul.

"Fuck."

You groan, unable to withstand her attack.

"So delicious."

She murmurs as she let's her tongue dance along your shaft, before taking you back into her mouth.

You can feel how impatient she is. Her blowjob is gaining in pace, her hands moving along your thighs. She starts to fuck her face onto your cock.

With a load groan, you almost cum right there. She pulls away early enough. Your disappointment is quickly replaced by heart pounding excitement.

"Eat me, please."

She gets on her knees, pulling her panties to the side. The mouth watering view almost gives you goosebumps. Her folds are wet, her pussy cleanly shaven.

You pull her hips towards you, making Venus sit on your face. Her pussy tastes even better than it looks. You can't get enough after only one lick. Her hands are in your hair again, forcing you to bury yourself even deeper into her core.

"Yes, baby."

She sighs, her head rolling back. Your pace quickens as you insert a finger into her wet core, while you lick her clit. Her velvet walls clench around you, dying for any friction at all.

"More. More!"

Her moans become louder, her whines needier.

At one point, she starts to ride your face. Your finger is still inside of her, egging her on.

"So close. The museum made me so wet."

You can feel her orgasm slowly approaching. Her pussy clenches around your finger even harder.

"Fuck!"

She almost shouts as she cums on your face.

Her sweet nectar tastes like peaches as you are forced to drink it, her hands keeping you in place.

"That was so good."

She sighs, her body visibly relaxing on top of you.

"I don't even remember the last time..."

She trails off, glancing down at you.

"I need you inside of me, Mars. Fuck me hard."

You tighten the grip on her waist, suddenly sitting up. It makes her fall off you and she lands on her back. You are now kneeling in front of her wet core, your cock grazing her folds.

"Give it to me."

She watches with a satisfied look on her face as you start to penetrate her pussy. Her tightness makes it hard to fit all of your cock inside of her in one go. You have to slowly ease in and out a couple of times, until you finally bottom out.

"Fuck, you are big."

She sighs as she feels how you fill her. Her pussy hugs your cock as tight as it can.

Her hands grab the sheets as you start to fuck Venus. Her body rocks back and forth on the mattress. Your hands are placed on her hips as you enjoy her pussy. It almost feels like she is made for you.

"More!"

Her head sinks into the sheets as you start to fuck her harder. Her legs wrap around you, trapping you, not allowing you to go anywhere but deeper. Not that you mind. If you could only stay inside of her forever...

Your body moves on its own, driven by your carnal desires. Every thrust makes her breasts jiggle slightly, despite the fact that they are still secure inside her bra. Her eyes are staring up at you, tracing the drops of sweat that form on your forehead, before they fall onto your chest or her tummy.

"Gosh, your cock..."

You see how her eyes become smaller, until they finally close. Her mouth is slightly open, moan after moan escaping her pretty lips.

"How are you so tight?"

You can't help but wonder. How is she this perfect? That face of hers would already be enough for every man to fall for her. But her body turns you into a slave to your animalistic instincts. And her pussy.. You can't describe it with words.

It feels like you are in paradise. And at the same time, you feel something like guilt. You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't be fucking her. She is a married woman. And yet, that fact somehow turns you on even more.

Venus should be off limits to you. Because she is way out of your league. And because she is married. But here you are. Fucking her, while she whines and mewls, asking you to go faster.

For a moment, you wonder if she is alone in Rome. Or is her husband with her? You haven't thought about this possibility yet. That he and her might have spent the night right here. In this bed. In the bed you are fucking his wife on.

"Fuck!"

Her loud moan brings you back to reality.

"I need it rougher! More!"

It's starting to feel like she just can't get enough.

You start to slow down, wanting to try another position. Maybe you can fuck her even deeper that way.

"Get up and turn around."

Venus seems to like the idea. She gets on all fours her ass facing you.

"Put it back in."

She smiles as she looks over her shoulder.

You let your hands run along her beautifully shaped cheeks. You knead them a couple of times, before you aling yourself with her wet cavern once again.

"Fuck me hard."

It's a mixture of plea and command.

Venus moans when you thrust forward, impaling her with your cock.

"Oh god!"

You lean over her, grabbing both of her arms. Pulling them back, you make her kneel. Only your hands on her arms keep her upright.

Fucking her from behind feels better than missionary. You are able to penetrate her deeper. You are able to rock her body back and forth properly. And you can really pull her onto your cock.

But as you keep pounding into her, her hair starts to fall, swinging from left to right. It hits her face, whenever you pull at her arms and thrust into her. She has to close her mouth, letting out needy whimpers. But she can't hold it in for very long. And soon, she has some of her own hair in her mouth as she moans for more.

The only downside is, you can't see her face. Her gorgeous features must be twisted in pleasure, but you are missing out on seeing them. Her hair starts to have a life on its own as the pace and force of your thursts increase. It starts to cover parts of her face, while most of it is still resting against her back.

You focus on the rhythm of your thrusts as you feel how deep you are inside of her. It feels like her pussy is getting better and better by the second. Your own pleasure increases, the harder you fuck her.

"Fuck!"

Venus suddenly cums around your cock. You missed the fact that she has been dead silent for the last couple of moments. Now, she is letting it all out again. Lewd words spill from her lips, just like her juices spill out of her pussy. She starts to stain the sheets underneath, almost slipping because of her own liquids.

Her orgasm overwhelms you, bringing you closer towards your own edge. You have been holding on for now, but the sight of Venus cuming right in front of you eventually proves too much.

You feel how you are growing tired, her pussy contracting around you with every thrust into it.

"I think I'm gonna cum!"

You groan, trying to warn Venus.

"Paint me! Stain me with your cum!"

She mewls as she feels you picking up the pace one last time. Her hair is still in her face, but she is unable to put it back. Her arms still behind her.

"Fuck."

You sigh as you finally pull out. You let go of her arms, letting Venus fall face first into the mattress. You hold your cock in your hand as you start to climax. Your cum hits her back. Rope after rope starts to stain her skin. Just like she wanted. Some of it gets onto the bra wire, the white globes visible on the black fabric.

"Fuck, I needed that."

You hear her mumble into the sheets, her voice muffled by the white cotton.

You still can't fully grasp what you just did. As soon as she came out of the bathroom it felt like someone else was controlling your body. It felt incredible nonetheless.

As you see Venus lying on her stomach in front of you, your cum on her back, you wonder what else there is to do. There is so much. There is so much the two of you could do. You whish you could explore even more of her body. To feel every inch of her skin.

When Venus finally turns her head to look up at you, you see her smile. Her eyes tell you that she is thinking the same thing.

"How do you want to fuck me next?"

[starry-crossing-zone]

Love Finds a Way - Hunter (Part 2)

Summary: Hunter and the rest of the Bad Batch tries to help you restore your memories. Length: 3.6k Warnings: Mentions of Jedi Purge; Mentions of Death; Amnesia; Scars; Angst; Female Jedi Reader

Part 1

Hunter stood in the entryway of the cockpit with his arms folded across his chest. You sat in the co-pilot chair as Echo and Tech asked questions about what you remembered.

Hunter tried to appear stoic, serious, and focused on the mission at hand. But yet his gaze was soft as he watched you explain your memories. He studied your mannerisms and listened to every intonation of your words. And yet, he found that his close analysis only made the situation more difficult to stomach.

It made his skin crawl when he heard the accent of the planet reflect in your words. Or the way that you sat slumped in your seat. You did not carry yourself like a Jedi general with several hard-fought victories under your belt. You were a negotiator. You were an ambassador. You rarely dropped your composure and were cool under fire.

But the you before him wasn’t you. It was your face and your body, but yet it wasn’t. You were nervous and fidgety. You were constantly running your hands down your pants to wipe the sweat off and your voice never rose above a certain level. 

Hunter thought that it was hard to grieve you. But now he realized that this was somehow worse.

“Byn found me unconscious on the bank of the river that runs north of the village. There’s a lot of berries that grow there, and it’s not uncommon for villagers to go up there to pick them. But I have no idea of how I ever got there in the first place.”

“And about five klicks from where you were last seen,” Echo noted, reading through the Imperial report.

“The river appears to be part of a larger tributary network,” Tech cut in, tying away at his datapad. “There are several water sources that flow south from a mountain range.” He stood up from his seat and a hologram of the planet appeared in the center of the cockpit. “And if we overlay the crash location with the tributary network, it appears that the crash site is above a lake that is part of the network.”

Tech pointed at the red point on the map. You slowly stood up and stepped towards the hologram, studying the map with furrowed eyebrows. Hunter, trying to not get distracted by how the light reflected off your eyes, watched you with concern.

“It would make most sense to start at the crash site.” Echo stood up and moved to stand beside you in front of the hologram. “We can search for the wreckage and see if there are any clues that can help trigger your memories.”

You nodded firmly. “Let’s do that.”

It was the most like you that you had sounded since Hunter found you again.

“Then let’s not delay,” Tech agreed, already typing in the coordinates of the crash site.

As Tech began the flight sequence, you slowly retook your seat in the co-pilot’s chair. Turning, you stared out at the darkened landscape and fiddled with your fingers.

Echo turned to do some more research into the explosion when he spotted Hunter staring at the back of your head. With a sigh, Echo walked over to Hunter and stood beside him. Echo glanced in your direction before turning to Hunter.

“How are you holding up?” Echo asked quietly, keeping his voice low.

“I’m fine.”

Hunter felt Echo’s stare of disbelief and turned to meet his gaze. With another nudge, Hunter sighed and ran a hand down his face. He pushed himself off of the wall and turned around, heading back to the barracks. And with one last glance between you and Tech, Echo moved to follow him. Hunter leaned against the console and stared at the floor.

“I just hope that we can find some answers for her,” he admitted quietly, causing Echo to nod.

“That’s what all of us want. And that’s what we’re all going to try to do.” Echo studied Hunter’s body language for a moment before he stepped forward and gently grabbed Hunter’s shoulder. The sergeant picked his head up at the contact. “Try to get some rest, Hunter. You need it.”

Echo gave Hunter’s shoulder a squeeze before he turned to return to the cockpit. Hunter watched Echo leave before his eyes wandered over to you. You smiled at Tech as the two of you discussed the mechanics of the Marauder. And when Hunter felt his jealousy spike at the fact that you hadn’t smiled at him, he shook his head and decided that Echo was right. He did need some rest.

With a heavy heart, Hunter stood up and walked into the barracks to go mope by himself and dream of a different, simpler time.

*~*~*~*~*

Hunter stepped out of the barracks when the Marauder began its landing sequence. You stood up from your seat when the ship touched down. As you waited for the doors to open, you locked eyes with Hunter. The two of you held each other’s stares, searching for some kind of familiarity that continued to elude you, until Tech cut into the moment.

“This is about as close as to the location of the crash that we can reach, as the actual explosion occurred in the air above the planet’s surface.”

“Explosion?” you asked, causing Tech to nod in confirmation. In a passing comment, you muttered under your breath, “No wonder my hair was singed.”

And although no one else heard it, Hunter did. The small comment made his fists clench and his jaw lock before he forced the muscles to relax. Instead, he tried to focus on Omega as the rest of the Bad Batch stepped off the Marauder.

Staring out at the small lake, you glanced up at the sky as if you were trying to remember the explosion. You stepped further from the group, tuning out Wrecker, Tech, and Echo’s discussion of investigating the area. Your eyes dropped to the surface of the lake.

“Wait.”

Blinking back to the present, you looked down to see Hunter’s hand wrapped around your bicep. It took another moment, but you suddenly realized that you were standing knee-deep in the lake. Hunter stared at you worriedly, trying to read your expression.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.” You trailed off as you turned to look back into the lake. It was clear and warm from the season, but there was a drop off to a darker depth. A depth that you needed to see. “But there’s something down there that’s calling to me.”

“Calling how?”

“I don’t know how to describe it.” You turned back to Hunter with hope shining in your eyes. “But I need to go down there. I need to see what’s calling me.”

Turning to where Tech and Echo were standing, you walked out of the lake and out of Hunter’s grasp. Despite the fact that you left, his hand remained in the same position, holding onto the ghost of your past self.

“Tech, do you have underwater masks?”

“Certainly,” Tech piped up as Hunter turned around quickly.

“You can’t go down there,” Hunter stated firmly and with a sense of finality.

It was in that moment that the galaxy seemed to stop. Omega and Echo both winced, clearly having seen the change in your expression, and shared a look. Wrecker even appeared a bit scared as you slowly turned around to glare in Hunter’s direction.

It seemed that even if you didn’t have all your memories, you reacted just the same way to demands. Unreasonable demands, you would have said.

Your eyes narrowed dangerously and for a moment, Hunter could see a peek into your past self. The general who conducted herself with an impeccable sense of power and prestige. You did not back down and you were not one to cower away from a fight, no matter the opponent. You were a fierce warrior and negotiator and you never took kindly to being ordered around.

“Excuse me? What do you mean that I can’t go?”

There was a beat of silence before Hunter replied, “We don’t know what’s down there.”

“Congratulations, Sergeant, you just discovered the reason why I need to go down there.” Turning back to Tech, who was typing away at his datapad, you asked, “Can I have that equipment, Tech?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Hunter continued, walking closer to you. You turned around at the sound of his footsteps and stared him down. “You could get hurt.”

“I already got hurt. I didn’t have this scar the last time that you saw me, did I?” You gestured to your jagged scar, which caused Hunter to look away, pained at the reminder. Trying to quell your annoyance, you stated, “I need answers. And I’m not going to find them up here.”

“Then let us go down there for you.”

“No,” you snapped back. “These are my memories. My life. If anyone is going down there, it’s me.” Hunter could hear how hard your heart was beating in your chest with anger towards him. “Would you have trusted her instincts?”

Hunter slowly turned to meet your gaze again. There was that spark, that fire that drew him to you—well, the old you—in the first place. Your tenacity, your refusal to give up, to give in. There was always a way and you never stopped until you found it. And that little spark, that little fire, glowed bright in your eyes as you awaited his answer.

“Without question,” he responded quietly.

“Then trust mine.” Your figure relaxed and you slowly unhunched your shoulders. Holding Hunter’s gaze once more, you added, “If you want me to get my memories back, if you want the old me that you knew and remember, then you have to let me go.”

Let you go? Could he?

The last time that he saw you—well, the old you—you were in the process of being shipped out to some Outer Rim mission without them. A clone battalion needed a Jedi general after their last one was killed in battle and you were the closest and most capable replacement. The orders came with urgency and you barely had any time to say goodbye.

He had let you go then and what happened?

He lost you. You got hurt. The entire galaxy flipped on its head. He lost Crosshair. Bodies stacked up and there didn’t seem to be an end to the suffering.

But as you suited up and prepared to dive to the crash site, Hunter felt just as powerless as he had the first time that he read the report of your supposed death. If he stopped you, he risked alienating you forever and never reawakening the side of you that he remembered. That he loved. And if he let you go, you could get hurt. You could be lost forever.

Either way he lost, just as he had with every decision since the fall of the Republic.

“You can communicate with us at all times,” Tech assured you as you zipped up the suit. “And should you need to resurface quickly, press that button.”

“Thank you, Tech.”

With one last glance in Hunter’s direction, you placed the helmet over your head and turned for the water. Stepping slowly into the water you took a deep breath to steady yourself before you dove down.

“She’ll be alright, Hunter,” Omega assured him, leaning against him. Hunter merely nodded in reply, not trusting his voice.

Meanwhile, below the water’s surface, you swam deeper. The light from your helmet allowed you to see the bottom of the lake. Kicking along, you paused when the light reflected off something in the sand. You hovered over the lakebed. Staring at the shiny piece of metal in the sand, you gently brushed your hand over it.

You sucked in a sharp breath when the symbol of the Republic appeared before you.

“Everything alright?” Tech’s voice echoed through your helmet.

“Fine.” You looked along the lakebed and found a deeper canyon. And that call seemed to tug at you again, only this time it was even more powerful. “I’m going deeper.”

Swimming into the canyon, you uncovered more wreckage. Pieces of metal and other materials from a ship that had been blown up. And when you found the main part of the wreckage, you took a moment to stare at it. Pieces were scattered around, strewn about as the current and time slowly hid the truth of those horrors from the galaxy.

You approached the body of the transport carefully, using your instincts to guide you. Placing your hands on the lakebed, you started to push the sand away and move the debris in your way. The call was louder now, almost consuming you. Resting your feet on the ground, you grunted as you pushed one of the larger metal pieces out of the way.

Breathing heavily, you stared down at the lakebed as the sand slowly settled. A new glint of metal caught your eye and you bent down to investigate. Your hand wrapped around a column of metal and all of a sudden, the call stopped.

Pulling your hand up and dragging the material to the surface, you stared down at a lightsaber. Your lightsaber, you realized with a sinking feeling.

*~*~*~*~*

Hunter looked up as he sensed you about to resurface and walked to the edge of the lake. Your helmet appeared a few moments later and you slowly swam towards the shore. When your feet touched the ground once more, you slipped off the flippers and slowly walked out of the water.

“Did you find it?” Hunter asked as you approached.

You did not respond to him, tossing your flippers onto the sand of the shore without a word. Hunter waited intently for your response as you reached up and removed your helmet. You turned to look up at Hunter with an mix of emotions that he didn’t have time to identify because the sudden hum of a lightsaber drew his attention first.

You held the blade in front of you, not in a defensive or aggressive manner, just simply to make a point. Your eyes, however, never left Hunter’s face, trying to read his expression.

“You never thought that it was important to mention that I was a Jedi?”

And when Hunter turned to hold your gaze again, he only found a look of betrayal staring back at him.

“I can explain,” Hunter replied carefully, taking a step towards you.

But at the slight movement, he found the blade hovering dangerously close to his neck. The other Bad Batchers jumped into action, their hands reaching for their weapons, but Hunter held up a hand for them to stop. He stared at you and found tears gathering in your eyes.

“Save your breath.”

Hunter noted the subtle shake to your hand. Although the blade had called out to you, it clearly was not held with confidence. You once described your lightsaber as an extension of yourself. You toiled and meditated to build it over the course of several days. Without it, you felt incredibly exposed. And now it was foreign to you.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Hunter tried to assure you.

“You’re not?” you snapped back incredulously as the shake in your hands became more apparent. “You know, this may be a dustball in the Outer Rim but even out here, we heard about what happened to the Jedi. About what men just like you did to them. To me.”

“We didn’t carry out the order.”

“Why should I trust you?” you demanded from Hunter. “Why should I trust any of you!?” You cast a glare in the direction of the other Bad Batchers before turning back to Hunter. “How do I know that you didn’t just play along, waiting until you had the opportunity to drag me away to your overlords? How do I know that I wasn’t just a bounty on your list?”

You stepped closer to Hunter, who remained still, holding your gaze with a measure of calm that was unsettling in of itself. Your lips trembled as emotions that you had no control over surged through your mind and cracks started to appear.

“I saw the Republic insignia down there on that ship. The ship that I was on when I lost my memories. The ship that was littered with blaster holes! After people just like you tried to kill me!”

“But we didn’t,” Hunter replied softly. “We would never.”

“I can’t trust you,” you hissed back, tears dripping down your cheeks. “You lied to me!”

“We held truth back from you. We did,” Hunter agreed, sharing a look with Echo and Tech. “But we thought that bombarding you with that information all at once would be too much.”

“You were just trying to control me!”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Why do you even care about me?” you asked, another set of tears dripping down your cheeks. “Was all of this just a game to you?”

“No!” Hunter protested immediately. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Then why did you offer to help me?”

“We knew you as a Jedi. I knew you,” Hunter started to explain. “You were our Jedi general during the war. You served on countless missions with us over two years. We had a perfect success rate under your leadership. And you were . . .”

“I was what?” you demanded from him once more. “I was what?”

“Hunter,” Echo warned, but Hunter ignored him.

“We were friends, you and I. And we became even more as time went on.”

“Jedi aren’t allowed to have relationships,” you snapped back, the whirr of your lightsaber reminding Hunter of the very present danger in front of him. “Stop lying to me!”

“I’m not.” Hunter paused for a moment, searching your eyes for any familiarity. “You have a scar on your back. A thin, raised pink line that you got during the Battle of Geonosis. You told me that it aches when it gets cold.”

Your hand seemed to drop back to the scar before your brain caught up with you. Shaking your head, you held the lightsaber back to Hunter’s neck.

“That’s just a coincidence.”

“You can’t eat Muja fruit because it makes your throat itch.”

“Lucky guess,” you breathed out, though your voice started to lack force.

“You have a tattoo on your right hip. Just a simple stick and poke of a star that Tech did for you.”

“Stop it.”

“You favor your left foot for balance because of an injury to your right foot when you were a padawan. Even now, you’re balancing predominantly on your left foot.”

“Stop.”

“And you—”

“—I said stop!”

The Force seemed to return to you as the dust suddenly swirled around you after your outburst. Hunter looked down at your shaking hands before he slowly met your gaze once more. Your eyes were wide and frightened, lacking the anger and frustration from a few moments prior. Slowly, and as he held your gaze, Hunter reached down to grab your lightsaber.

You flinched, but didn’t push him away. He could feel you shaking more now that he held your lightsaber. Gently twisting his grip, Hunter deactivated the weapon.

“Put it down, mesh’la. You can put it down.”

“No, I can’t,” you breathed heavily. Your grip tightened on your lightsaber.

“Yes, you can.”

Your grip remained tight on the lightsaber as your hands shook. But soon, Hunter’s words seemed to have an effect on you. Your grip slowly loosened as Hunter continued to hold your gaze until your hand dropped back down to your side and your lightsaber remained in Hunter’s hand.

Staring at him with tears streaming down your cheeks, a sudden force seemed to come over you after you relinquished your lightsaber. Hunter’s hope evaporated and your lightsaber clattered to the ground as he lurched forward to catch you before you fell. Your head lolled to the side as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“No, no, no,” Hunter breathed out, holding your face in his hand. “Tech! I need help!”

Echo and Tech raced over and Tech quickly began to assess your condition. Hunter held you in his arms, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared at your seemingly lifeless form. He could still hear your heartbeat and the sound of your breathing, which was the only reason he still clung to what remained of his sanity.

“She is stable, medically speaking. I believe that this is her body’s response to this encounter,” Tech announced after completing a scan.

“Her body shut down to protect herself?” Echo suggested, causing Tech to nod.

“Precisely.”

“When will she wake up?” Hunter asked, holding you closer to his chest.

“That is uncertain. It could be hours or days, if not weeks.”

“Tech.”

But Hunter tuned out Tech’s ramblings about the likeliness of your quick recovery. Brushing the hair that had fallen on your face away, Hunter lowered his head to rest against your own as tears continued to dribble down his cheeks and onto your own.

Peeps who asked about a Part 2: @astralqueenoc @mariahstarwarsgal @pissandgrits @sflame15-blog @oceansssblue @skellymom @leapingbadger @dragonrider9905 @sh1zhu @clonethirstingisreal @griffedeloup @literallydontlook

[cozzzynook]

Transformers One

"When a cybertronian dies ,their frames lose all color it had leaving behind only shades of gray"

It was something bumblebee had told hinself as he entered thesane cave where they had meet alpha trion, all of the primes had gone grey, all except one or two as bumblebee reminded himself as he walked to megatronus prime, he had no idea why dee hadn't told them about megatronus lack of a grey frame, naybe it was the sudden realization of sentinel's betrayal or maybe it had been the sudden rage he felt for all of the miners who were enslaved in the mine, even bee who had been locked up in sub-level 50 for far too long.

After staring for far too long at megatronus bee took his deseicion, his idea had to work, after all there was no way that a bot offlined and still keeped the color in their frames.

After taking half of the mask off and making the prime swallow the energon and putting the t-cog that was originally giveng to dee, bee waited a few klicks but megatronus keep without giving him an answer

He broke down

The only chance of actually joining the current factions living in cybetron into a sole army was gone the quintessons would once more enslave the cybertronians and there was nothing to do,megatronys could've easly overpower optimus as the oldest living prime and megatrons as the most skilled cybertronian known to date.

-"and that was your reason for being here young one?"-

Bee looked up, megatronus was staring right into his spark, waiting for an asnwer, he must have been awake all this time, listening to him cry out like a sparkling, he felt like a prey under the predator eyes, it was terrifying in all ways.

He told megatronus everything from what happened since sentinel took power, to what happened after killing him.

They had to stay in the cave for a few more days until megatronus feeled strong enought to make the trip to iacon.

Spoiler : Optimus gets a smackdown for trying to stop dee from killing sentinel, megatron is then taken to iacon by force by his commanders because their old boss is back and then he too gets a smackdown for creating a ¿terrorist? Group, for using megatronus face as an emblem for said group and for leaving iacon city unprotected with out the high guard (his commanders get smacked to for not staying to protect the citizens of iacon), elita recieves a fer congratulations from mrgatronus for doing and amazing job.

Then bee reveals he's sparked and refuses to elaborate (skywarp is the baby daddy)

skywarp being the baby daddy is peak and i just know that idiot warps himself multiple times until he warps to bee and accidentally warps them both making bee purge and glare at him.

Its the first time anyones seen that ( minus the trine ) and they didn’t even know bee could glare.

Poor warp is terrified to let bee out of his sight since he went on a dangerous mission sparked

[booniebaby141]

Birds of Ratite

Ghost X Soap

After extensive research, I’ve come to the conclusion that Simon Riley would have a hyperfixation about birds, specifically cassowaries because “They’re like fucking dinosaurs Johnny, be grateful they can’t fly, they can kick hard enough to break bones.”

Johnny will gladly listen to Simon talk about them for hours on end. I like to think when Simon runs out of Dad jokes to tell him during missions, he just rattles off fact after fact. Johnny can’t really complain, he does the EXACT same shit to Simon all the time; any time he gets first kit haul, he will prattle on about all the explosives, chemical compounds, and ammunition he got for the next demolition.

They will gladly listen to each other yap, especially in high stress situations, where it could mean the difference between life or death…

~~~

“Bravo 7-1 to Watcher, just outside the safe house 2 Klicks North of the drop zone. Ghost is in critical condition! Knife wound to the abdomen, need medevac NOW!”

“Copy that 7-1, sending help your way.”

“Fuck, c’mon stay with me Sir.”

The two had collapsed just outside the safe house, falling to the grassy field before leaning against the safe house wall. Soap looked around aimlessly and desperately, watching as the sun peaked just over the horizon, illuminating his face, and his hands, now covered in the blood of his best friend as he kept a firm hold over the wound to prevent further bleeding.

Ghost almost wanted to laugh at the situation, being stabbed with his own knife by an opposing soldier was definitely not on his Task Force bingo card. It had been driven deep into his stomach before being yanked out as Soap flanked the man, dropping him to the ground while he still had a solid grip on the knife. The cut was deep and Ghost was starting to get delirious from the blood loss, he’d pass out soon enough if they didn’t get help quickly.

“Sir? Stay with me... Help’s coming L.T.”

“Johnny?”

“Ghost? I’m right here mate.”

He began to pull at the seams of his mask, trying to take it off in his weakened state when Soaps hands stopped him. It was an old promise they’d made to each other if they found themselves in a near death situation. They wanted to die seeing each others faces, their real faces.

“Simon no, stop. I’m not gonna let that happen, you’re gonna be fine. Quick, umm… How high can a cassowary jump?”

“What Johnny? Why?”

“Just answer the question, Sir.”

Ghost huffed raggedly but eventually wheezed out a struggled “7 feet.”

Soap nodded with a weak smile. “Aye, what’s the scientific name for them?” He continued to ask Ghost questions and keep him somewhat lucid.

Ghost realized what Soap was doing now, and he thought hard to try and stay awake until medevac arrived. “It’s *cough* it-it’s Casuar- *cough* casuarius johnsonii.”

They could hear the chopper approaching, Ghost rolled his head against the safe house wall, landing on Soaps shoulder as darkness seeped in through the corners of his vision. “It’s cold Johnny…”

Soap propped him back up, getting in front of him and running his hands up and down the length of his arms in an attempt to warm him up some. “They’re landing now Simon, just a bit longer aye? Quick, tell me where they live.”

“Wha? Johnny?” Ghost slurred out, struggling to keep himself awake but he knew he had to, for his sake, and Johnnys.

“The cassowaries L.T, where do they live?”

“N-new *cough* New Guinea, and Aus-Australia.”

“Aye? Well I’m gonna take you there when this is all over, so you stay awake you big, broody, bastard.”

That got a slight chuckle from Ghost, which quickly turned to a fit of coughing and sputtering as the pain sharpened in his abdomen and the blood seemed to pour out at an even faster rate. Soap kept his hands placed firmly on the wound, watching as Ghosts head rolled to the side again and he grew quiet, uncharacteristically so even for him. He was so cold, so tired. In his half delirious state, the warmth of Johnnys hands gave him enough illusion of safety to start drifting asleep.

“Ghost? Ghost?! Come on wake up Sir! Their wheels are down. Wake up you bastard! Come on, tell me their wingspan, what colours are they, anything Sir!”

The last thing Ghost remembered hearing before passing out was the frantic, panicked shouting of his teammate and the warmth of his skin, followed by the hurried thudding of boots on the ground as a medical team was pulling over a stretcher with Price in tow. He hears a faint conversation, something whispered, something upsetting, before being pulled up to the stretcher and feeling the last bit of consciousness being pulled from him.

The warmth never left however.

He wakes up in a hospital bed, Johnny’s hand clasped around his. He looks like shit, like he hadn’t left Ghosts side for a second to clean himself up. Still bloodied and stained, yet here he was watching over his lieutenant like a hawk.

“You made it L.T.”

“You fucking made it.”

Ghost didn’t have time to reply before strong arms were wrapped around his chest in embrace. He winced slightly as Johnnys weight pressed down on the bandaged stab wound, but eventually settled in a soothing silence as he held Johnny closer. He pretended not to hear the sniffles coming from his sergeant.

“I made it Johnny.”

The two remained that way for a while, Ghost looked around his hospital room to see the array of things left by his team. There were several cards surrounding a large bouquet of roses, hydrangeas, morning glories, and marigolds; all the colors of a cassowary’s feathers. There were some bottles of bourbon left by the Vaqueros, even Nik had brought a little mug with birds painted on by Soap. Inside the mug, Ghost noticed two slips of paper.

“What’s in the mug Johnny?” He asked suspiciously, to which Soap chuckled before briefly letting go of Ghost to grab the tickets.

“I told you, you make it through this, I’m taking you to see them. Once you’re given the all clear from medical, we’re going…”

Ghost looked in awe at the two tickets, round trip to Australia with accommodations and a visit to the Taronga Conservation.

“Fucking hell, Johnny…”

“Ahh, don’t give me all the credit, Gaz helped me find the place and Price gave us the leave and got us a hotel. But I planned the rest. Got even more surprises in sto-”

Soap was cut off as Ghost pulled up his balaclava slightly to give him a kiss. Soap leaned into it, returning his initial embrace and kissing him right back, soft and gentle; what they both needed after such a close encounter with death. Talk of the trip could wait. For now, they simply needed each other.

“8 to 10 feet Johnny.”

“What Sir?”

“I never answered your question before, their wingspan is 8 to 10 feet.”

“Hah, guess we’re gonna see then aye L.T.”

“I guess we are.”

2 Weeks Later

“Watch out for the magpies Johnny, they’re even worse than Canadian Geese. Hey look up, a Masked Lapwing! And it’s a black shouldered subspecies, you usually only find them in New Zealand. Did you know that the only species of bird who can do…”

Soap listened with a smile although he did lose track at times as Ghost listed off every bird he saw in the conservation and had at least 3 facts for each one of them. Still, it was good to see him back up and about, and back to his usual self. Although it was a side of him rarely seen, Soap felt honoured he felt comfortable enough to show it to him. Both men nearly cried when they finally got to visit the cassowaries. Simon nearly cried because he finally got to meet his favourite bird in person, and Johnny because he finally got to watch Simon meet his favourite bird in person.

~~~

Just a silly Ghoap idea I had from a TikTok I saw on cassowaries. What else would they yap about? I just know Ghost and Soap are the AuDHD dream team of hyperfixation.

[trd-blog-magazin]

Neue Wege in der PR: Textbegleitende Sounds mit TRD

Mit über 4.000 Klicks auf das Profil von TRD-MediaPhonograph2024 auf Suno beweist dieses Projekt, dass innovative PR-Strategien große Resonanz finden. Insbesondere die Kombination von Text und begleitenden Sounds in den Genres Pop, Metal und Dance eröffnet neue Möglichkeiten in der Medienlandschaft. Textbegleitende Sounds in den Beiträgen schaffen eine immersive Erfahrung, die den Leser nicht nur…

[nahoney22]

I got a fun request for wrecker. nsfw number five and enemies to lovers number two. please combine as you see fit and for your own personal entertainment. Any rating is acceptable, because I saw the lines and said “that’s perfect! We never see Wrecker angry enough to yell.”

Under my Skin*** 🌊

🫧 Pairing: Wrecker x Female Reader

word count: 2.9k

prompts:

“What’re you staring at?” / “You, is that a problem?”

“Fuck you.” / “Say the time and place.”

After being stranded in the middle of nowhere, yourself and Wrecker find yourselves staying at an inn for the night. And after some harsh truths, you both can’t resist the magnetic pull of each other anymore.

warnings: NSFW, 18+. Enemies to lovers, arguing, one bed trope, first kiss, rough kissing, neck kissing, praises, dirty talk, clit play, explicit sexual content and language, abrupt ending, not proofread.

authors note: sorry for the wait @gokyacetakal , I hope this is okay? Enjoy 🫧🩵

Your luck seemed cursed sometimes, and today was no exception. Despite your repeated warnings, Wrecker insisted on his reckless plan. The outcome? Being stranded on a barren planet with the person you despised most in the galaxy: Wrecker.

Some might find it strange to dislike someone like Wrecker, but his incessant protective instincts, especially towards you, were infuriating. You were highly trained in combat, technology, first aid, bomb disposal—everything needed to be a soldier. Yet, he constantly overshadowed you.

“Explain to me why you couldn't just listen, Wrecker? Just this once!” you growled, surveying the desolate landscape, the cold sand sifting through your fingers as the moon cast its pale light on both of you.

“If we had taken your route, we'd be dead. I saved your life,” he scoffed, folding his massive arms across his chest, staring everywhere but at you.

You smirked bitterly. “If we had taken my route, we wouldn't have been ambushed by those raiders. We would have stayed undercover, avoided open terrain, and reached the rendezvous point unscathed. But no, you charged in like a Rancor, turning us into sitting ducks.”

He shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware you were right, and it irked him.

With a deep sigh, you grabbed your supplies and backpack, and started walking ahead, leaving Wrecker behind.

“Where are you going?” he called after you.

“To find out where we are and, ideally, get some food and shelter. Feel free not to follow,” you retorted, not even glancing back. But judging by the large shadow that soon appeared beside you, he did, much to your annoyance.

The walk was silent, the tension between you both thick and uncomfortable. The moon's dim light made the barren landscape appear even more haunting. Every step you took felt weighted by unspoken words and simmering anger.

Then, pain shot through your legs. You grunted, trying to conceal it, but the shin splints slowed you down considerably.

“Why are you slowing down?” Wrecker asked, his voice gruff beside you.

“It’s... nothing,” you sighed, adjusting your slipping backpack. “Just getting tired.”

“Lazy.”

“Shut up.”

You continued for a few more klicks, but the pain became unbearable. You had to stop, bending over to massage your shins in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Wrecker halted next to you, raising an eyebrow. “Shin splints?”

You remained silent for a moment, quietly impressed he recognised it immediately. Seeing no point in lying, you nodded.

“I’d give you a stim, but we’re out,” he muttered, waiting for you to compose yourself. As you took a step, you cried out in pain, nearly collapsing.

Wrecker quickly grabbed your arm, steadying you. “Easy there.” His voice is somewhat soft and you can’t help but feel the warmth of his touch on your skin.

Begrudgingly, you muttered a small, “Thanks.” You correct your posture and he lets go, making you suddenly feel cold. Strange.

In the distance, you spotted some lights, suggesting the possibility of a village or settlement. But given your condition, you weren’t sure you could make it.

“Wrecker, look over there,” you said, nodding towards the lights. He followed your gaze, his eyes narrowing as he confirmed the sight.

“I see it,” he replied, his voice gruff but attentive.

“You need to go and ask for help. Tell them what happened,” you urged, wincing as you shifted your weight to alleviate the pain in your shins.

He turned back to you, his expression softening as he read the pain etched on your face. “I’m not leaving you out here alone,” he said firmly. “I’ll carry you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and discomfort. “No. Definitely not.” You shook your head vigorously, horrified at the thought of being carried like a child.

“We don’t have time to argue about this,” he grunted, his resolve unwavering as he stepped closer. “I’m carrying you.”

Before you could protest further, Wrecker slipped an arm under your legs and another around your waist, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry. His strength was incredible, and despite your initial resistance, you couldn’t help but feel a grudging gratitude.

The darkness of the night mercifully hid your flustered expression as your hands instinctively wrapped around the back of his neck for support, his grip on you secure.

"Don't drop me," you muttered, trying to mask your discomfort with a touch of humour.

He hums softly with amusement, the sound resonating in his chest. "No promises."

The lights in the distance grew brighter as Wrecker continued his determined trek with you in his arms . Each step he took seemed to bring a little more assurance that you would find safety, help and to get in contact with the others.

You didn’t know how long Wrecker had been carrying you, but the silence between you had grown deafening. The rhythmic sound of his footsteps against the sand and your own breathing seemed amplified in the stillness of the night.

Somehow, you found yourself gazing up at Wrecker. Your eyes traced the lines of his scarred face and his battered ear, remnants of countless battles and skirmishes.

“What are you staring at?” he grumbled, catching you off guard. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his voice a low rumble.

You glanced away briefly before meeting his eyes again. “You. Is that a problem?”

“Yeah, it’s annoyin’,” he muttered. Despite his gruff tone, you caught a flicker of insecurity crossing his face, a fleeting moment of vulnerability.

Personally, though you would never admit it to him, you thought his scars were fascinating. They told stories of resilience and survival. Of course, earning them undoubtedly would’ve been painful, but you couldn’t help but silently admire them.

“Nothing else to look at around here,” you mutter, gesturing to the barren landscape with a small, wry smile. The desolation of the planet offered no distractions, just endless stretches of sand and rock.

Wrecker huffed, his expression softening just a touch. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

After what felt like an eternity, the lights of the settlement finally grew close enough to reveal its source. A small, ramshackle village emerged from the darkness, an assortment of durasteel structures and flickering holosigns offering you both shelter for the night.

Wrecker carried you through the dusty streets, you shifting in his arms as onlookers gave you both curious glances. “How abou’ that one?” He nods to an inn with a flickering neon sign. It was almost rubble but if it gives you a place to rest, it was perfect.

Inside, the innkeeper, a grizzled old Twi'lek, eyed you both warily but softened when he saw your obvious fatigue and Wrecker’s determined expression.

He lets you down carefully and both of you pooled your remaining credits, just enough for a single room. As the Twi'lek handed you the fob, he mentioned an unfortunate detail.

“Only one bed in there,” he said gruffly. “Take it or leave it.”

You glanced at Wrecker, your annoyance bubbling up again. “Great. Just great.”

Wrecker shrugged, surprising you with his clearly unfazed look. “Better than nothin’.”

Luckily the room was just down the hall so you could just about walk, or should you say ‘hobble’, towards the room.

It was small and sparsely furnished, with a single, surprisingly large bed taking up most of the space. You dropped your gear near the door before turning to look at the bed with your hands on your hips.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” you declared.

“Don’t be dumb,” Wrecker replied, setting his gear down and peeling off his armour. “We can share the bed. It’s big enough.”

You shot him a look with wide eyes. “Not happening.”

Wrecker’s eyes darkened with irritation. “Why do ya have to make everything so difficult?”

“Why do you always have to be the hero?” you snapped back, the frustration you’d been holding back for so long spilling out. “It’s like you think I’m incapable of handling myself. I’m trained, Wrecker. I can fight, I can think, I can take care of myself.”

His brow furrowed, confusion and irritation mingling on his face. “I know you can handle yourself. I’m just tryin’ to keep ya safe.”

“By constantly overshadowing me? By making decisions for me? Do you know how frustrating it is to have someone always step in like I’m some… some…helpless rookie?” you retorted, your voice rising as your hand flailed in the air. “I joined this squad to make a difference, not to be protected like some fragile thing.”

He rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his bread chest. “Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn and actually worked with me for once instead of against me, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” he shot back, stepping closer. The glow from the room's dim light fixture cast long shadows on his rugged features.

“I’m not against you, Wrecker. I’m against you treating me like I’m less capable. Like I’m not part of this team. You don’t trust my judgment. You didn’t listen to me back there, and now we’re stuck on this kriffing planet,” you shouted, the words pouring out in a torrent of pent-up anger and hurt.

“Fine, you want the truth?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, like the rumble of an approaching sandstorm. “I don’t want ya to get hurt. You might not see it but I do; you put yourself at risk way too many times.”

The intensity of his admission took you aback, but your anger still simmered beneath the surface. “And you don’t? I don’t need a savior, Wrecker. I need a partner. Someone who respects my abilities and trusts me to do my part.”

Wrecker sighed heavily and rubbed the side of his temple, clearly getting a headache. “Whatever. We’ll talk about this another time. So stop actin’ like a brat and lay in bed.”

“You’re the kriffing brat,” you grumbled, looking away from him, but he heard you.

“Fuck you,” he finally snapped, his chest heaving with barely restrained emotion.

You had never heard or seen him swear like this before. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t rage. It was something more complex, something that made something in you snap as well. Without really thinking about it, you retorted, “Say the time and place.”

You both stilled, your breaths echoing around the small room as the weight of what you’d said settled in. His jaw clenched, and that unreadable look intensified in his eyes. Meticulously, he slid one glove off, his movements slow and deliberate. “Alright. How about right here?”

Your eyes widened, but you didn’t deny him. Words stuck in your throat as you watched him slide the other glove off before he had you backing up into the wall. “Right now.”

“W-Wrecker… I…”

You couldn’t stop the soft, muffled whine that escaped against Wrecker’s lips as he kissed you, hot, messy, and slightly aggressive. But you welcomed it, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Your eyes fluttered closed as he backed you up against the wall with a thud.

Subconsciously, you tilted your head, allowing one of his large hands to slide up to the nape of your neck, cupping it firmly and keeping you close. His lips worked expertly against yours, slick with spit as he pried your mouth apart and slipped his tongue inside which made your core pang with a heat.

“Mmmm,” you moaned softly into his mouth, going numb against his body. The kiss was fierce, full of pent-up frustration and longing, and it consumed you both. His free hand gripped your waist, and you found your legs spreading open when his hot, wet muscle danced with yours. The kiss deepened, becoming a battle of tongues and teeth for dominance while simultaneously giving in to the other.

His other hand moved to your hip from your neck, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the hard planes of his body pressed against yours. You tug on his under armour and you feel a large smirk tug on his lips before he breaks the kiss, pulling himself out of his clothes where your eyes almost bulge out of your head at the sight of his large, bare muscular chest. “Wow.” You mutter to yourself, breathless.

“Like what you see, pretty girl?” He tilts his head down at you, taking your hand and placing it against his sturdy abdomen.

You swallow, feeling your panties getting increasingly wetter as your fingers trace across his bare skin. “Uh-huh.”

Wrecker then lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he carried you to the bed. The galaxy seemed to blur as he laid you down gently, his large frame hovering over you, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

As your hands slid up his broad chest, feeling every scar and vein until they wrap around his neck, you tugged him down to you, the desire for him thick like the growing appendage in his pants. “Can I look at you?” He whispers, soft for such a big man.

You nod eagerly and allow Wrecker to slide his hands under your shirt, caressing your stomach before he helps pull your shirt over your head leaving your upper body bare apart from just a bra.

“You look so pretty, baby.” He admires, one hand cupping your breast over your bra that had you softly moaning until his fingers dug into your waist, his grip almost bruising but in a way that only makes your body tremble in pleasure.

He crawls over the top of you, stealing your lips in another deep kiss. You had broken the kiss briefly, gasping for air, but Wrecker didn’t give you much of a chance to breathe. His lips were back on yours in an instant, more insistent and demanding. The intensity of his need matched your own, and you felt yourself melting into him, “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and breathless.

You could only respond with a desperate, needy kiss, your fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him even closer than before. Wrecker's weight pressed down on you, grounding you, his warmth enveloping you completely. His hands roamed your body, memorising every curve and contour, while his lips continued their relentless assault on yours. Each kiss, each touch, was a declaration, a recognition of everything you both had kept bottled up for so long.

As he moved his lips to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, you arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. His name fell from your lips like a prayer and full of need.

“Wrecker…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He paused, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze softening slightly as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his tone a tender intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, surrounded by the soft hum of the room and the distant sounds of the settlement outside, you felt something shift between you. The anger, the frustration, the tension—all of it melted away, replaced by a deep, undeniable connection that neither of you could ignore.

As Wrecker’s lips found yours once more, you felt his hand slide down your body, his touch sending electric shivers through you. His fingers found their way to the waistband of your pants, and without breaking the kiss, he slipped his hand inside. The sensation was overwhelming, and you arched into him, needing him, a gasp escaping your lips as his fingers brushed against your slick heat.

“Oh, fuck…” you moaned, your breath hitching at the sensation. His touch was both gentle and possessive, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Meanwhile, you could feel his arousal pressed against you, hard and insistent.

“Feels like you’ve been wanting this as much as I have,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

You could only nod, too overwhelmed to form words. His fingers moved with practiced skill, teasing and exploring, driving you closer to the edge with every touch.

His lips moved back to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to drive you wild with his touch and kisses. Your hands roamed his body, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin.

Wrecker’s fingers slid down further, parting your folds and finding your clit, circling it with an expert touch that had you crying out. Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more friction, more of the pleasure he was giving you.

“Wrecker… please…” you begged, your voice a desperate whisper.

He didn’t need any further encouragement. His movements became more urgent, his touch more demanding as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, every sensation heightened, every touch electric. “Good girl. Cum for me.”

And then, with a final, shattering kiss, he pushed you over the edge, his fingers delving deeper into your pussy as your body trembled with the force of your release. You clung to him, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your mind reeling from the intensity of it all. “That’s it sweetie, you did so well.”

As the waves of pleasure subsided, you lay there, wrapped in his arms, your bodies pressed close together. Everything outside the room suddenly felt distant and unimportant, the only thing that mattered was you two… whatever you were.

Wrecker’s eyes met yours, a mixture of satisfaction and something deeper reflected in his gaze. “I guess we don’t need to argue about the bed anymore.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, tracing a finger over his skin. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Wrecker Works

Tags: @lulalovez @photogirl894 4 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

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@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter r @erellenora

[rabotimagines]

About the spike sucking post

Listen I feel like tfp bumblebee after his voicebox gets fixed would have such a big oral fixation. He’s trying to make up for lost time! Now that he can finally suck his partner dry, he isn’t leaving your legs until Primus himself drags him away

Big brainedddddddd nonnie. Okay. Since you've spawned this idea in me If he did awaken an oral fixation that way Bumblebee would be so so very obsessed with kissing you- Not just simple pecks either. (Yes he adores those too because he adores you) But full open mouthed sloppy making out??? Bumblebee acts like a fuel starved mech and like his only chance of survival is your oral lubricant. Bumblebee is going to absolutely hound you for make outs- It's only half intentional on his part. He can lock derma with you for completely non horny reasons and if you have the time it's going to escalate till you're light helmed and can still taste Bumblebee on your glossia for klicks after he's finally let you go.

I GOT SIDE TRACKED SORRY-! (<- Perv who likes writing making out probably a bit too much). But with that little idea in mind yes, Bumblebee would absolutely be the exact same with your array, spike or valve. Bumblebee could be dead tired coming home from trying to keep it together, and spots you with your thighs just open casually as you lounge and he's between them and his mouths on your spike like his function depends on it.

[boneapplet]

Veil of Sand

Relationship: Sanguinius x afab!reader

Warnings: some description of injuries

Word Count: 1885

Requested Tags for All Works: @beckyninja @runin64 @ilovewolvezz

Masterlist

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6

Haunting moans fill the canyon as the wind passes through it, tearing dust and glass-flecked grit from the bones of the land. Clouds of iron-oxide dust bleed across the sky, turning noon into rust-colored dusk. It is the Season of Red Sand—when the wind howls the names of the dead and no sane creature ventures far from shelter.

Even with this in mind, she presses onward, radiation cloak flapping at her heels—stitched from old hazard suits and melted vinyl banners. Tubes coil from her rebreather into a cracked filtration unit slung across her back. The visor over her pale eyes is smeared with dust. Her feet know the path by memory, skirting the sun-bleached wrecks of old sky-crawlers and the ribcage bones of half-swallowed habs. Her face, half-covered by woven cloth, turns toward the wind without flinching. The staff in her hand ticks against stone and metal alike, then pauses as she presses her other hand into the air ahead—fingers reading currents and resistance like script on a page.

The wastes whisper louder today. Something has fallen. Not from the sky—there are no ships in this quadrant—but something within the wind has shifted. Like pressure cracking beneath a scream. Like the world holding its breath after.

She stops when she feels it: a break in the wind. A shape that doesn’t belong. Not rock. Not rusted wreckage. Flesh.

Kneeling, the folds of her cloak rustle against the earth. Her hands move swiftly—finding the edge of scorched plating, then a shoulder—broad, far broader than any man she’s treated. He lies crumpled against a half-buried wreck, half-buried in sand and shrapnel, blood smeared across twisted feathers. Brushing aside the shock of feeling wings attached to him, she continues her examination. One wing hangs limp, bones jutting at an unnatural angle. The other, while still whole, is caked with grime and blistered skin beneath the feathers.

His body is massive—taller than any man she’s ever known—and clad in tribal warplate forged from scavenged plating and thermal hide. Tubing runs across his chest, long since melted. A cracked helm lies nearby, slagged down one side. Its rebreather unit is still hissing steam.

Her gloved fingers sweep across him—arm, shoulder, neck. A pulse: too strong. Too fast. Wrong, but alive. Her hand moves back to his wing, gently tracing where bone meets shredded muscle. It twitches beneath her touch. A cough escapes the stranger.

“You’re real,” he rasps.

His voice is ragged, shaped by pain. She leans closer.

“You fell,” she says.

He tries to move, a shudder running through his limbs, but pain stops him cold.

“Don’t,” she says, voice even. “You’ve broken many things.”

His breath catches. “You should go. I won’t last.”

“You might.”

“I’m cursed.”

She unclips an injector from her belt, primes it, and presses it into a vein just above his collar. “Then I’ll save the cursed.”

A pause. Then, softer: “Why?”

“Because I know what it is to live when you shouldn’t.”

He exhales sharply. Whether in disbelief or agony, she can’t quite tell. Taking a seat beside him in the sand, her breath rasping through the filter mask, listening to the wind batter the world above the ravine. His good wing shifts slightly, curling in toward her voice.

“I can’t carry you,” she says. “But I’ve got a sled a few klicks north. You’ll have to hold on.”

“You’ll die.”

“I won’t.” She stands slowly. “You will. Unless you move.”

Something like a laugh escapes his throat—bitter and scorched.

“Then give me the pain,” he mutters. “And I’ll crawl.”

Ragged and harsh, like air scraping through a torn bellows. Even with the rebreather from what was salvaged of his helm. One hand claws at the dirt, armored fingers raking through oxidized sand. Then the other. His muscles seize as he shifts, trying to pull himself up by sheer force and defiance. She waits, still as stone.

Wings like his aren’t made for crawling, and she can hear it in the wet hitch of his breath—something inside tearing when he moves. His broken wing drags uselessly, leaving a smearing arc of blood and dust. Still, he drags himself forward. Half a meter. Then another.

She doesn’t help. Not yet. The wind presses harder against her cloak, flapping it around her ankles like a warning. The voice of the season is building—howling low and furious down the canyons. Not long now.

“Keep moving,” she says.

He growls, low in his throat. His fingers dig into a metal spar buried in the sand and uses it to lever himself forward. His armor scrapes and buckles. The rebreather unit on his belt sparks weakly.

“You’re not cursed,” she says. “Just broken.”

He laughs, bitter and breathless. “Is that better?”

“Broken can be mended.”

Another lurch forward. His good wing clenches and tries to brace him. Fails. He collapses to one side, gasping, teeth gritted. For a long second he doesn’t move.

Stepping forward. “That’s enough.”

He doesn’t resist as she stoops, slings his good arm over her shoulders, and hauls. Her body shakes under the strain—he's heavier than anyone has a right to be, and his heat scorches through the layers of her cloak. One step. Then two. Her boots slip on shale and half-sunk rebar, but she doesn’t stop.

They crest a low rise. Below, half-hidden under the lee of a fallen crawler track, is the sled. Just a frame of scrap tubing and plating lashed together—used to haul dead scrapbeasts and salvage—but it will hold him. It must. She half-drags, half-guides him the last few meters. His legs drag limp behind them. When they reach the sled, she lets him fall onto it with a grunt and drops to her knees beside him.

His breath rattles. Blood seeps down from his shoulder, wing feathers sticking to his skin in clots. His lips move—something half-whispered, but not for her. She tightens the sled’s cords across his chest.

“This’ll hurt.”

“I know.”

“You remember pain?”

“Always.”

She tugs the harness tight and yanks it over her shoulders. The sled gives a long creak. She braces herself, staff in one hand, and starts to pull. Behind them, the wind begins to scream.

One foot, then the next. The cords dig into her shoulders, pulling her sideways as grit lashes her cloak. She keeps her balance with her staff, tapping the path she can’t see—feeling the pull of the sled behind her like an anchor made of breath and blood and half-dreamt wings.

Above them, the sky swirls. Red sand scouring the horizon, kicking up into clouds thick enough to choke a herd-beast. It bleeds through the clouds in waves, turning light to rust and shadow to crimson fog.

“You still breathing back there?” she calls, voice muffled by the mask.

A low grunt. Then: “Barely.”

“Good. I’d hate to waste the good stims on a corpse.”

“You… curse like a priestess.”

She almost smiles. Almost. The path tilts upward, shifting from cracked roadplate to loose gravel. The sled snags. She grunts, hauling harder, the weight nearly toppling her forward. The cords dig into her ribs.

“You could try flapping, you know,” she mutters.

“Wing’s broken.”

“Still have one. Worth a try.”

Another grunt. Then a hoarse cough behind her, dust-thick. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m always bleeding.”

“More than usual.”

“That’s the weather.”

A gust slams into her side. The sled skids. Causing her to stagger, managing to catch herself, then forces herself onward. The knowledge that shelter is near helps her keep going.

A shape coalesces ahead low and angular, built into the rock like a scar. Not a ruin, not quite. Not anymore. Ribbed crawl-track panels form the outer frame, weather-sealed tarp stitched from old banners stretched tight between rebar struts. A shielding net of scorched mesh ripples above it all, half-buried in sand and slag to mask the heat signature. At first glance, it’s just another scrapfall tucked against the slope—but to her feet, to her memory, it’s home.

She hauls him the final stretch across the threshold. A pressure switch clicks underfoot. The tarp-flap lifts with a wheeze of compressed air. Heat rushes out—thick with old antiseptic, burned metal, and dust-filtered ozone. Yanking the sled inside and drops the entry curtain behind them, sealing it with a twist of wire and lock-hooks. The wind howls once before the barrier seals tight. Silence, broken only by the rasp of her breathing and the creak of the sled.

The main chamber is narrow but tall—cut partially into bedrock, partially reinforced with hull plating and scavenged panels. Salvage shelves cling to every wall, stacked with injector tubes, cracked dataslates, scorched bone-saws, and canisters of preserved chem-gel. A half-disassembled medicae servitor lies dormant in the corner, its optic-lens dim and jaw stuck mid-whine. Amber heat-coils snake across the ceiling like arteries, giving off just enough glow to see by.

Guiding the sled beside the wide cot at the back of the chamber. The cot is worn, layered with salvaged thermal mats and scav-fur. More suited for broken ribs and rad-burns than a winged giant leaking blood across her floor—but it will do. With effort, she rolls him onto it. He groans—barely conscious. His good wing shifts instinctively, curling to shield his side, feathers trailing streaks of dust and blood.

Stripping off her outer cloak, letting it fall with a heavy thump, then turns and begins peeling off his armor. The clasps are melted shut in places; she works a blade under them, prying until they give with a crunch. The plating falls away, exposing a body mapped in scars and recent trauma—muscle torn, bone stressed to the point of rupture. His left flank is bruised near-black, warm to the touch. The shoulder is dislocated. And the wing… the wing is bad.

Wincing as she runs her gloved fingers along the broken frame. Bone, not chitin. Not synthetic. Real. Soaked in heat and blood. She’s never seen anything like it. Not here. Not in any of the old tribe’s gene-maps. Not even in the desert myths. She unclips her mask and exhales, face caked with dust and strain.

“I don’t know what you are,” she murmurs. “But you shouldn’t be alive.”

He doesn’t answer. Breath shallow. Heat rising off him like a furnace gone wild. She wipes her hands clean and moves to the storage racks, sorting through half-melted bottles and cracked vials. Finds what she needs—coagulant paste, stabilizer injectors, cauter-gel.

She kneels beside him and begins to work. Stabilizing the wing joint before disinfecting the deeper wounds. Her hands move steadily, faster as the storm roars past overhead. Inside, it’s quieter now. An old machine pings weakly in the corner, still detecting vitals.

“Close enough,” she mutters, glancing back at the stranger.

A low sound—half-cough, half-laugh—escapes his throat.

“You’re… not afraid?”

“I’m blind, not stupid.”

He blinks slowly, pupils dilated. “You shouldn’t have brought me here.”

“Probably not.” She checks the injector and presses it to his side. “But I did.”

“Why?”

“Because men don’t fall from nowhere with wings and blood like fire,” she says, voice low. “And I want to know what kind of storm it took to make you.”

[thesweetroro]

Hiii!! I hope you're doing good! I can't wait for you to discover all the new characters in Nanbakas in the manga!!

I love your stories and your hc! I don't know how to say it but I would really like you to do an hc on my three favorite characters who are the snake boys x reader (that's how I call them lol) I can't wait for you to meet them in the manga!

If one day you finish the manga, please let us know and tell us what did you think about it! 💗💗🐍‼️

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭.ᐟ ⋆ ۪

Note:Hello im doing well thank you for asking and im so excited to know about them more and im slowly learning more before reading the manga, also thank you so much for requesting+ This post is also followed by an original you can klick here to read it too.

───‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆────────────

꩜ Request 🩰 .

── .✦ 🎠 building 8

── .✦🏷️ the guard (All of them in b-8)

𓇼

、ꕀ🐍﹒(Yamada Orochi)🖼️◟﹒

I think of him as a emotionally passionate lover might not be true but I think being in a relationship with him kind of switched something in him he still himself of course sometimes he feel his loneliness towering over the both of you but that’s okay that’s who he is and he’s comfortable show it around you and more.

Hes the type of bf where you could be talking about anything that he doesn’t understand or focus on as much as you do and still look at you and hear you just to say small “yeah”.

He’s an art lover ofc most of your dates with him in a museums or castle tours anything with art is such a sweet and fun way of making your date be much better , you guys can draw each other, or even make phone cases for each other ect..

Oh and this poor boy.. find himself falling in love with you deeper and deeper he even became a word he never heard of! like what is “clingy”!, But he’s adorable he knows what to do .

he’s a true and art form of the beauty of listening he gives you flowers every weekend because once you told them you love them, it brings you a plushy if he was shopping, he gets in your favourite beauty shop and remember the shades and products you love.

If he gets jealous I think it’s really something that would break your heart because this feeling is new for him so as everything else he feels with you sometimes it’s hard for him to acknowledge what is supposed to be done when he feels something , so when he’s jealous he would look really sad because the feelings between burning and hurting it just ew his body reacts the way it wants so you would absolutely notice.

He might be jealous a lot because he’s not as active with people as you are but if it’s need to his energy will do the job as long as he’s stood next to you.

༊࿐ ͎. 🏛️(Tanaka Mizuchi)🩻⊹ ˚.

I think of him as a very emotional intelligent person that can focus on people actions that will lead him to know their personalities even if they are new people to him and that might help your relationship a lot because he doesn’t only listen and understand and feel he notice which is an absolute big thing.

He’s also an open person he likes to explore and talk to people if you’re a shy person he would be the perfect guy for you he does all the talking and explanation , and he is also smart ,smart enough that you don’t have to work your brain all the time with him.

a nice guy not the type of one that gets mad if you push them away , he’s a genuine person that never judged you for who you are or what you do or whatever he was honest since day one that he was interested in you and all of you.

for dates and spending time together he would love to go travel with you if that was possible but with his work schedule it’s a little bit hard but going camping on the weekend or to a little Insect reserve is something to do out of the normal coffee /restaurant dates he also loves the beach extra chance to see you in a good outfit “hey gorgeous I think you’re blocking the view” you respond “boy im the view” and he’s just 😧 “O-ok that’s something..”

a very loyal man when I was talking about the beach view those were not the ladies it was the sunset/you should see that guy when you were near another man.

VERY JEALOUS man im afraid, but he does it in a fancy way mostly it depends on how it went , if you were the one talking to another guy that’s a whole different situation he will deal with you later , but if it’s the big ass nose guy here thinking he has a chance with you he is so gonna throw hands but as I said he’s not gonna overreact like he will talk to the guy get him to go with the guy is stupid enough to not understand he got punished enough for his nose to bleed and done.

also forgot to mention he doesn’t need timing to give a gift, he works he get money so why wouldn’t he spoil his baby?.

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🎍(Rokurajin Murakami)🍚 /⋆ ۪

I think of him as a very supporting and patient person also super friendly and full of energy and it’s the best thing ever he’s like a prince that always makes you smile and be there for you of course he is more than that but he’s a true gentleman and the kind soul that I cannot usually find in everyone sometimes people act friendly but they aren’t as the pretend to be.

he’s an extra of everything this is the funniest person you’ve ever ever met it doesn’t have to be something funny that much just to sit there and share his joy with him is the funniest cutest thing ever.

He’s the type of boyfriend that could pull you away from a very noisy place to his arm so that you can rest and talk about all the nonsense you could think of or overthink about.

If you are in a bad mood or something upset you he doesn’t go fully on and blame others for what they did and said to change your mood unless it was true but in that moment all he could think of is you and how he could calm you down after all he is your safe place.

called you the sweetest thing “hey little kitty” “how was your day sweetheart” “What is it my flower girl” , speaking about flowers this guy got out of his way to make you a small Bouquet out of his flowers that he has grown.

He loves going on a date with you and then perfect once when you go on a picnic and have much more fun with the quiet and peaceful place.

So easily jealous because you are fine and you are his! but mostly from people that you give extra attention to but if it’s from a guy like ?? hello they are scared asf when he’s next to you.

Such a tough guy that will absolutely milt the second you baby him “So uh um Waoh!- wasn’t seen that coming…like Ahah..ha..please tell me you love me again..”