#tech's data pad

[eclec-tech]

My Nerd Year's Eve Gifts!

Tech is a huge part of why I started writing and was the focus of my very first story, so I had to get this little hardcover book from @autistic-artistech that looks so much like his beloved data pad! It even says "The Bad Batch" along the spine, so it's going to look amazing on the shelf no matter which way it's facing!

The other two are Tech's season one ear cup art in a magnet and a sticker that's getting slapped on my laptop as soon as I post this. I miss that lightning bolt, and this is the best recreation of it I've seen. The shading gives it a faceted 3D look!

I will be back for more! I had to behave myself because it was Christmastime and I wasn't supposed to be buying myself gifts. 😁

HERE'S THE SHOP IF YOU WANT TO GET YOUR OWN!

[misstoodles-doodles]

Patching Up & Post-Mission Debrief (AU)

AKA a 3 character sketch that got way WAY out of hand.

Close ups:

[here-comes-the-moose]

Tech: Echo my stomach hurts.

Echo, not looking up from his reg manuals: It’s because you’re always on that damn data pad.

[amandamadeathing]

The Match from Another Batch:

[ghostymarni]

S2E8: tech

[cad-faoi-maeglin]

I think it's so unfair that I'm not currently snuggled between Tech and Echo

[societyfolklore]

We Couldn’t Stop

Title: We Couldn’t Stop Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers 

Summary:  During a sweep of a forgotten HYDRA lab, you, Steve, and Bucky trigger an old aerosol dispersal system. No one realizes what hit you until it’s too late. Now stuck in quarantine- burning, aching, and caged in with two dominant, unraveling super soldiers- you’re forced to ride out the drug’s effects together.

Word Count:  7k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Sex Pollen / Drugged Lust, Threesome MFM, Dubious Consent (due to drug influence), Double Penetration, Oral (F & M receiving), Praise Kink, Rough Sex/Overstimulationm Fingering, anal ply, cum play, Competitive Doms

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for April Kinky Bingo Square: A3- Threesome Card Number: KB003

The mission was supposed to be a simple sweep- an old HYDRA lab buried deep beneath the forest floor, long abandoned, just a routine retrieval run for leftover tech and encrypted files that could pose a threat if they fell into the wrong hands. You, Steve, and Bucky had done that sort of thing more times than you could count. Clear the rooms, grab the drives, secure any volatile tech, and call for extraction. In and out. Easy.

You should’ve known better the moment you stepped inside. The facility was too quiet, too intact. Dust settled thick on the floors, but the lights still flickered dimly overhead, and the security systems were half-alive, humming low like they were waiting.

You were the one who found the sealed door- reinforced, heavily protected, and drawing power. It was locked down tight, tucked at the end of a corridor where the flickering lights didn’t quite reach. You called the others over.

"You think it’s storage?" Bucky asked, frowning at the biometric pad.

"Locked and powered," you muttered. "Could be data. Or maybe just a lab they forgot to scrub."

"Let's not poke the bear," Steve said, but he stepped up beside you anyway, scanning the door. "Looks like it's sealed for a reason."

That should've been the moment you backed off. But your fingers were already dancing over the keypad, overriding the old security system. The panel blinked. Clicked.

"I’ve almost got- "

The door hissed. Not wide- barely a few inches.

A soft spray hit you all in the face.

It came fast. Silent. A puff of pressurized mist like compressed air, followed by the faintest scent- ozone, chemical sweetness, almost floral.

You stumbled back, coughing once.

"What the hell was that?" Bucky barked, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the door. "You okay? Did you breathe it in?"

"Yeah, but- I don’t feel anything."

"We’re all covered in it," Bucky snapped, glaring at the faint sheen settling over Steve’s shoulders. "Fucking hell."

"Close it," Steve ordered.

Bucky slammed the door shut, sealing it again with a growl. "Old security measure. Shit."

"We’ll report it," Steve said, but his jaw was clenched.

The spray clung to your skin. Sweet. Heavy. And whatever it was, it was in all three of you now.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

By the time the jet touched down back at the compound, you were already flushed and aching, your heart thudding too fast in your chest. Whatever had come out of that door- it clung to your skin, settled in your lungs, and made everything inside you feel off. You weren’t the only one affected. Bucky was pacing the perimeter of the quinjet like a caged animal. Steve hadn’t spoken for the last twenty minutes, but his white-knuckled grip on the back of a seat said everything.

You’d hoped the decontamination shower would be the end of it. But blood was still taken. Swabs run over your skin. Scans. More questions. Until finally, they left the three of you in the quarantine room- one sterile space, no outside contact, and cameras in every corner.

You wanted to apologize. This had been your mistake. But Bucky’s expression was pure storm as he continued to pace like a tiger in a zoo. Steve’s face was unreadable- steely, distant, controlled. So you kept your mouth shut and tried not to scratch at your skin like you desperately wanted.

Soft static crackled, and then Tony’s voice filled the room over the speaker. "It’s biochemical bonding serum," he said. "Looks like it's engineered to push subjects into a state of hyperarousal and submission, designed to override inhibition and drive instinctual behaviors."

Your stomach dropped. What kind of mess had you landed yourself in?

"How long?" Bucky snapped, voice sharp.

"We'll have to check back on the decay and metabolic rate, and we- "

"What Bruce means is- we don't know," Tony cut in. "For you guys, it might be a matter of hours. Little Miss Curiosity might be stuck with it in her system a little longer."

You flinched and shied away from the speaker, burying your face in your hands.

"We're working on it, don't stress. It shouldn't kill you," Tony added casually.

"Big fucking whoop," Bucky growled, pressing a fist into the wall. Steve shot him a look of disproval. 

"Buck.." His tone warning. 

"Just, try and stay calm, guys," Bruce said, trying to sound optimistic. "It'll be alright."

"Don’t make a mess," Tony said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "We’ll keep you posted."

And just like that, you were cut off again. Biochemical- engineered arousal.

"Well, you heard him," Steve sighed, leaning back against the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face. "We just have to keep our heads. It can’t last forever."

That was easy for him to say. Both Steve and Bucky had super soldier serum in their veins- enhanced bodies that could regulate, adapt, maybe even resist. You… you were human. And you could already feel your body reacting in ways that made your skin itch and your blood feel like it was boiling.

You didn't say anything. Just shifted your weight, trying not to squirm. The heat beneath your skin pulsed steadily now, like it was alive.

"This is fucked," Bucky muttered, pacing again. "They just dumped us in here like we’re some kind of experiment."

"They’re doing what they can," Steve said, tone calm but tight. "We don’t know enough yet. Getting worked up won’t help."

"Worked up?" Bucky turned on him, eyes flashing. "You don’t feel that?"

Steve’s jaw flexed. "Of course I feel it."

"Then quit acting like you don’t."

You glanced between them, heart racing. The tension in the room was building again, only this time it wasn’t from anger- it was something heavier. Thicker. Clinging to the air like smoke.

And under it all, that hum beneath your skin only grew louder. 

Hours had passed.

You'd started pacing a little while ago, unable to sit still. Movement helped. Not much- but it was something. You were going through the water they'd left in the room like you were dying of thirst. You were hot, sticky, your tank damp and clinging to your body, and you were doing everything you could to ignore the throbbing pulse between your legs.

You kept moving. Pacing. Trying to shake it off.

Steve watched from the far cot, jaw tight. His shirt was damp, his breath shallow, but he was sitting like he was trying to pretend everything was normal.

Bucky was pacing again, eyes locked on you more often than not, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. “She smells different,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

His words made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rough, raw sound of his voice made your head twitch like it was a physical thing pulling at you.

"Gonna try and sleep," you muttered, not looking at either of them.

Maybe you'd be able to sleep through the worst of it. Maybe if you were lucky, your body would calm down. You slipped behind the thin curtain, stepping into the tiny corner of privacy around your cot. Laying down, the heat of your body only seemed to intensify. Your skin felt suffocated, and with a frustrated sigh, you peeled your tank top over your head, leaving you in just your bra, hoping the exposure would help you breathe easier.

It didn’t.

You curled onto your side, arms around your stomach, thighs pressed tight together. The ache between your legs was a constant, heavy throb now. Maybe… maybe you could just handle your own needs. Just enough to take the edge off. Anything to ease the ache.

Your hands trembled as you pulled the thin blanket around you and lay on the cot. There was a small curtain for privacy, but it did nothing to muffle the sounds when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband.

You tried to be quiet. Tried to hold your breath. But your body was on fire, and even the gentlest brush of your fingers sent you bucking.

A whimper escaped, broken and desperate.

And then you heard it- Steve’s voice. Low. Strained.

“Don’t- don’t do that.”

You froze. “I- I can’t- ”

Still, you didn’t stop. You rubbed faster, then slower, your fingers diving inside of you, pressing deeper, trying every angle- but nothing worked. Every shift of your hand sent sparks across your nerves, your breath hitching with each pulse of pressure, but the fire wouldn’t break. Your legs trembled, your toes curled, but it all stayed out of reach.

You changed angles, tried circling your clit with trembling fingers while your other hand held onto the edge of the cot like it could ground you. You rocked your hips up, whispered pleas into the dark, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. You needed more- needed them- but all you had were your own shaking hands and the unbearable ache growing between your legs.

Your breath hitched again as frustration bloomed hot and frantic in your chest. You were soaking, your thighs slick, the air sticky with the scent of your arousal. Your skin was flushed and clammy, your body locked in this endless loop of need- and yet you still couldn’t fall over that edge. Not like this. Not alone.

"You gonna keep pretending you don’t want her?" Bucky asked, voice low and rough, growling on the other side of the curtain.

Steve didn’t move at first, but his voice followed, strained. "I can smell her arousal from here, Buck. You think I’m not affected?"

"She’s whimpering, Steve. Sounds like music to me."

"We’re not doing this. We can’t- "

"Fuck this. She needs someone."

"Don’t you fucking touch her," Steve snapped.

"Then you do something," Bucky fired back.

Silence followed. You pressed your fingers deeper, hips rocking, but it wasn’t working. You were going to explode- your body was wound so tight it hurt.

Your fingers weren’t enough. You begged, voice cracking, desperate and broken.

"Please... please someone- "

Someone pulled the curtain back. Bucky’s eyes were dark. Blown wide. He didn’t speak. It hurt. “I can’t…” you whimpered, barely able to speak. “It’s not working…”

Your hips shifted again instinctively, your fingers still caught between your thighs, but the tension was unbearable. You were so wet, so swollen with need, it was maddening- and yet release stayed just out of reach. Your body craved more than your own touch could give.

They both appeared, stepping past the curtain without a word. You could see it in their faces- this was affecting them just as much. Steve’s eyes were dark, jaw clenched. Bucky looked wrecked, barely human with how sharp and hungry his expression had become.

You writhed again on the cot, body shaking, and Steve moved first- his weight shifting over you as he pressed your shoulders down into the mattress with steady, unyielding hands.

"Stay still," he said, voice gravel-thick.

At the same time, Bucky grabbed your wrist and gently pulled your hand away from you.

You whined, hips arched up, as Bucky’s gaze dropped to your slick fingers. He looked transfixed. Obsessed. His mouth parted before he dragged his tongue along your digits, groaning low in his chest at the taste.

Then- without breaking eye contact- he brought your hand to Steve.

"Tell me again we shouldn’t do this," Bucky said, voice rough and knowing.

Steve hesitated, staring at your hand, your eyes, then your body.

"...Steve?" you pleaded, chest heaving. A bead of sweat slid down your ribs, slicking your skin as the heat inside you pulsed like a second heartbeat. "Help... please."

Steve’s jaw flexed. His eyes raked over your flushed, trembling body, lingering where your bra had ridden up from the way you were squirming, the curve of your thighs glistening in the low light.

Bucky didn’t speak. He just stood there beside him, wild-eyed and rigid, chest rising and falling with short, shallow breaths. The scent of you filled the air. Thick. Sweet. Desperate.

Steve exhaled through his nose, heavy and slow like he was trying to exhale restraint. It didn’t work.

"You’re going to regret begging so pretty, sweetheart," he murmured, finally moving closer, the promise behind his words like thunder rolling through your veins.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

They were both on you.

You didn’t know who moved first- Steve’s hand slid up your thigh, firm and sure, while Bucky’s mouth was suddenly at your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. The tension shattered. Clothing came off in frantic tugs- your joggers peeled away, your bra unclasped and discarded. Steve’s tank was tossed aside. Bucky’s sweats hit the floor with a low rustle.

Heat and skin and breath surrounded you. Their bodies pressed in, solid and hot and overwhelming. Steve's chest pinned you down as he kissed you- hard and consuming- his tongue sliding against yours as he groaned into your mouth. His hands cupped your jaw, fingers splayed, tilting your head how he wanted it.

Bucky moved lower, lips trailing down your throat, teeth scraping along your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, dragging you down the cot toward him with a roughness that made you moan. He kissed your stomach, your ribs, your inner thighs, worshipping each inch like it belonged to him.

You gasped, arching into the touch of both of them. Their mouths- wet and demanding. Their bodies- slick with sweat, grinding against you like they couldn't get close enough.

You'd all held out for so long. Now there was nothing but the letting go.

Every nerve ending in your body sparked like live wires with every touch- every graze of skin against skin sent jolts of unbearable sensation through you. It was impossible to stay still. Your limbs twitched, your hips rocked, your breath came in short, gasping pulls as your body tried to process too much, too fast.

“Don’t move,” Steve growled, voice rough but laced with something gentler beneath. “Too sensitive? No. You’re just not used to being handled right.”

Bucky pushed your legs open wider, guiding your knees apart until your calves hung off the edge of the cot, completely exposed, completely theirs. “She’s soaking,” Bucky breathed. “Fucking hell- she’s dripping down her thighs.” The cool air kissed your slick folds and made you shiver. Then his hand slid between your thighs again, and fingers plunged into you- two, maybe three. You didn’t even know whose they were anymore.

Steve’s mouth found your chest, teeth grazing over the top curve of your breast before his lips closed around your nipple. You sobbed, your body already arching upward from the overload.

The blonde growled against your skin, one hand gripping your jaw while the other tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to bow your spine upward. You gasped, helpless, writhing between them, your body trembling from overstimulation.

“You’re taking it so well,” Steve murmured, voice low and rough. “Just like that. Good girl.”

“Look at her,” Bucky snarled. “That’s it, sweetheart- ride my hand. Come on. Take what you need.”

His fingers worked deep inside you, curling and thrusting, hitting that spot that made your legs twitch and your hips lift off the cot. His palm pressed against your clit with every motion, grinding you into the edge of bliss, holding you there with cruel precision. You could feel everything. Every ridge of his knuckles, every flex of his wrist. It was too much and not enough all at once.

You whimpered, your hands scrambling against the sheets, seeking something to hold onto as your body rocked with each relentless stroke. Steve bit gently at the underside of your jaw, his hand still twisted in your hair as he whispered praises that barely reached your ears over the rushing roar of need building inside you.

Steve’s mouth was on your chest again, sucking one nipple into the heat of his mouth while his hand massaged the other, groping you with a needy rhythm that only made it harder to breathe. His other hand had tangled itself in your hair again, gently tugging until your spine arched up off the cot, your body straining toward both of them.

Bucky’s metal thumb pressed into your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make your thighs jerk. Your breath hitched, head tipping back as you let out a broken moan.

"OH FUCK." you cried, fingers clawing at the side of the cot, knuckles white.

He didn’t stop. His fingers pumped into you, slick and steady, coaxing the sound out of your throat again and again. You felt like you were vibrating- nerve endings lit up with fire, each touch sparking through you like electricity.

“You hear that, punk?” Bucky’s voice dripped with ego. “That’s the sound of my fingers making her cry.” Steve shifted beside you, sitting up to watch, his eyes locked on where Bucky's fingers slid in and out of you. One of his hands moved down, low and out of sight, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he fought to keep control.

Bucky glanced back at him, grinning as he curled his fingers just right and made you cry out again.

"Look at her, Stevie," Bucky growled, his voice rough and ragged with arousal. He didn’t even look up, just watched his fingers slide in and out of you like it was the most important thing in the world. "She’s writhing just from my fingers. What happens when I put my cock in?"

"You’ll wait," Steve snapped, voice sharp, strained with barely checked control. He was flushed, jaw tight, clearly fighting the same battle Bucky was already losing.

"God, look at her," Bucky muttered again, breath coming faster. "Fuck, I want her mouth. I want every part."

You couldn’t answer. Your vision blurred. Every nerve in your body felt like it had snapped tight, vibrating with unbearable pressure.

And then it broke.

You came- hard.

Your whole body convulsed as the orgasm tore through you. Your legs kicked against the cot, arms flailing blindly for purchase. Steve had to hold you down, one hand braced across your chest, the other still tangled in your hair as your back arched and a strangled sob tore from your throat.

It didn’t end quickly. The drug made it last- your climax dragging on and on, crashing over you in waves so powerful they left you gasping, wrecked.

You felt Bucky’s fingers slow inside you, easing off just enough to let you ride it out without breaking. But they didn’t stop touching you. They didn’t let you go.

And worst of all, the haze in your head didn’t clear like you hoped it would.

You were still shaking. Still needy.

Still burning.

You were a panting mess, your skin still hot and your chest tight when one of them scooped you up and lay you out on the cool floor. The shock of it made you gasp, the chill a sudden relief against your fevered skin. You blinked your eyes open, dazed, limbs slack and breath ragged.

"You’re such a mess for us, baby," Bucky murmured, crouched above you now. His voice was low, ruined with hunger. "That sweet little body of yours wasn’t made to handle all this, was it?"

Your eyes found him- Bucky, kneeling near your face now, his cock hard and leaking, so close it blurred your thoughts. He looked feral, undone, lips parted like he was barely restraining himself.

Your tongue slipped out to lick your lips without thinking. The taste of your own sweat clung to your skin, but all you could focus on was him. The way his chest rose and fell, the way his fist clenched at his thigh.

Your mind narrowed to a single point of clarity.

You wanted him in your mouth.

You leaned forward slowly, licking the bead of precum off his tip before taking him in fully- hungry, needy, your lips stretching around the thick, velvet length of him. Bucky’s breath stuttered, and he let out a ragged groan as your mouth sealed around him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he gasped, one hand flying to your hair, not to guide but to anchor himself. “So fucking pretty like this- taking me so deep. Look at those lips- look at that mouth.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him hiss. He was hot, heavy, pulsing against your tongue, and you hollowed your cheeks to take him deeper, until your nose pressed against the base and he swore low under his breath.

“Messy little mouth,” Bucky panted. “So eager. You needed this, didn’t you? Needed something to suck while we ruin the rest of you.”

You were lost in it- the taste of him, the heat, the way he twitched when your tongue flicked just right. Spit gathered at the corners of your mouth as you worked him with sloppy desperation, gagging slightly as you bobbed your head in a steady rhythm.

Just then, you felt Steve’s hands at your hips, steady and sure. He shifted your lower body, pulling your legs open and up until you were spread out for him on the floor.

“You liked Buck's fingers? Let’s see how you do on my cock,” Steve growled against your ear, his voice dark and thick with restraint.

You gasped around Bucky’s cock, the moan caught in your throat turning into a garbled sound of pleasure as Steve aligned himself behind you. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you wide as his tip pressed against your entrance- already slick, fluttering, aching.

He pushed in slow, filling you inch by inch, and every nerve inside you lit up in electric spasms. Your muscles fluttered around him, clenching and pulsing as he stretched you open, the thick drag of him stealing your breath.

The pressure, the fullness, the stretch- it was overwhelming. You sobbed around Bucky, the vibration of your moan making him groan above you, his hips twitching as he fought not to thrust.

Steve bottomed out with a hiss, his hands gripping tighter like he needed the anchor. Inside you, he throbbed, deep and perfect. You felt stretched to the edge of your limits, your inner walls fluttering in frantic spasms around him, struggling to adjust and clench all at once. Your body didn’t know what to do- pull him in deeper or push him out.

It was too much. It was everything. Your head was spinning.

They started to move- slow at first. Steve dragging back only to sink in again, deliberate, controlled, while Bucky’s cock bumped the back of your throat as he rocked forward with a groan. You gagged, whined, clung to them both with your mouth and body.

You were stuck in it now. The lust. The drug. The heat. There was no thought left, only sensation. Only how it felt to be stretched open in two directions, trembling and gasping.

They didn’t talk to you anymore. They talked about you.

“She’s so sensitive,” Bucky growled. “Poor thing doesn’t know what to do with herself.”

Steve grunted, his pace picking up. “Tight as hell. She’s pulsing like she doesn’t know whether she wants to come or cry.”

You tried to moan but it came out a broken, garbled sound around Bucky’s cock. Your tongue dragged along the underside of him as he pushed deeper, your throat fluttering as you swallowed around the stretch. Spit dripped from the corners of your mouth, tears tracking down your cheeks, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Bucky’s hand tightened at the back of your head, not forcing, just holding you there, gazing down into your wet, dazed eyes. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Fuck, look at you drooling all over me. You love it, don’t you?”

Your hips rocked back into Steve without meaning to as he thrust forward again, harder this time, grinding deep. Your nerves fired like sparks, the friction of his cock dragging against hypersensitive flesh sending bursts of pressure low in your belly. Your insides coiled, pleasure building with every thick, deliberate thrust, your body wound so tight it felt like you might snap apart.

“You’re doing so well for us,” Steve grunted, leaning down, his mouth hot at your ear. “Such a good girl, letting us use you like this.”

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle, driving in deeper. The stretch made you cry out around Bucky’s cock, throat flexing as your moan turned to a sob.

"That's it," Steve growled, pace quickening. "Fuck, so fucking wet and warm... you gonna cum, sweetheart? Gotta feel you squeeze me while you swallow Bucky."

Your body arched, heat crashing through your spine as Steve hit that perfect spot again and again, each thrust sending a jolt through your core. Your throat tightened around Bucky's cock, the vibration of your desperate moans making him curse under his breath.

“Fuck- she’s so close,” Steve panted, driving harder. “You feel that? She’s fucking pulsing.”

You sobbed around Bucky, tears streaking your cheeks, the pressure in your belly a coil tightening with no escape.

“She’s gonna lose it,” Bucky panted, watching the way you writhed. “Look at how she’s trembling. She needs cock.”

And then it snapped.

Your climax hit like a bolt of lightning, seizing your body with white-hot tension as your inner walls clamped down around Steve’s cock. You wailed around Bucky’s length, the cry vibrating through him as he let out a guttural groan.

“Fuck, that mouth- ” Bucky growled, watching your teary eyes roll back. “I’m gonna- shit- ”

He spilled down your throat with a grunt, his cock twitching between your lips, his hand holding you steady as you swallowed every drop of him while he pulsed. 

The clenching spasms of your climax milked Steve mercilessly, dragging his own orgasm from him with a ragged curse. He slammed in deep, staying buried as he came hard, filling you with warmth that only made the pleasure burn hotter.

“Take it,” he groaned, his breath broken against your shoulder. “Take it all. Good fucking girl.”

Bucky sat back on his heels, pulling himself from your mouth with a wet pop, still hard, his cock glistening with your spit. “"Fuck... you’re unreal..." he panted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing..pupils blown as he looked down at you.

Steve finally pulled out with a groan, the loss of him sudden and jarring, making you whimper. His cum followed, warm and slick as it dripped from your stretched pussy, pooling between your thighs.

His gaze dropped between your legs, transfixed. His eyes went heavy-lidded as he watched it leak from you, dripping down to your slick, twitching rim. Slowly, his fingers moved to your core, smearing the mess down lower, spreading it deliberately to your other entrance.

You gasped, twitching from aftershocks, your body still sensitive everywhere. His fingertip teased your tight hole, rubbing softly, slicking it with a practiced ease. You whimpered, already overwhelmed, but the moan that spilled from you was pure need.

“Damn, Stevie- you didn’t fuck her right if she’s still aching like this,” Bucky drawled, voice hoarse and edged with a smirk, watching the way your hips shifted restlessly on the floor.

You whimpered, the heat still rolling inside you, every nerve ending alive and twitching. The aftershocks made your muscles flutter, your body too sensitive and still so hungry. Steve didn’t bite back. He was too focused- his fingers slick with his own cum as he spread it lower, smearing it over your pussy and then circling your tight, twitching rim.

And then one thick finger pressed inward.

You gasped, whole body jolting, a broken sound catching in your throat as your body tried to clamp down instinctively. But Steve worked slowly, steadily, easing the finger deeper, the stretch sharp and slow as he began to work you open.

You felt your core clench around nothing as Steve worked his finger deeper. “I need- please, I need more, I can’t- ” you gasped, voice trembling. Your head was a mess, fogged with lust and the aftershocks still sparking under your skin. Steve kept up the slow pump of his finger, pushing in deeper, working more of his cum into your ass to keep you slick and open.

“Hear that, Steve?” Bucky said, voice thick with amusement, already fisting his own cock in lazy, slow strokes. “She wants more.”

Steve’s gaze didn’t waver, his finger sinking deeper, curling. You whimpered again.

“Can’t say no, can we?” Bucky added, grinning.

“Oh, I think I know exactly what our girl needs...” Steve muttered, voice thick with heat and control, as his hand disappeared between your thighs.

Steve pulled his finger from your ass just as Bucky got down onto the floor, reaching out to haul you up into his lap. Steve’s arms hooking under yours, supporting your limp, boneless body as they moved you together like you weighed nothing.

“Let’s get you on Buck now...” Steve purred near your ear, voice thick and smooth, a slow heat curling down your spine.

Bucky’s cock was already there- thick, hard, and waiting. They guided you together, Steve steadying you from behind while Bucky angled his cock to your entrance.

As Steve lowered you, your legs wrapped weakly around Bucky’s hips, and you felt the first stretch as his tip slid inside. A guttural groan ripped from Bucky’s throat, his hands tightening on your thighs.

“Fuck, baby,” he gritted out, voice rough and reverent. “You always take me so damn good. Still so fucking tight- even after Steve blew you open? Shit.”

“That’s a girl,” Steve murmured, voice low with praise. “Nice and slow... Want you to feel every inch of him, don’t you?”

You just whimpered and nodded, the need to be filled consuming, overwhelming, as the pair of them helped you sink down onto Bucky’s cock, inch by perfect inch.

Your head fell back against Steve’s shoulder as you settled fully onto Bucky, who thrust up into you with steady pressure. The heat and stretch made your whole body tremble. You could barely breathe, still twitching from your earlier climax. Then Bucky's hands gripped your hips tight.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, hips rolling upward as he began to move you, guiding you into a rhythm. “Look at you. Still aching. Like how I feel doll?”

The moan that spilled from your mouth didn’t even sound like you anymore- wrecked, raw, and desperate.

You were unraveling under Bucky’s rhythm- the way he filled you had your mind slipping, your thoughts scattering with every deep, slow thrust, how every thrust hit deep, high inside, brushing against that spot that made you shudder. Your head lolled back onto Steve’s shoulder, eyes fluttering, lips parted around desperate little gasps.

“She bites her lip when I go deep. You see that?” Bucky said with a rough chuckle, voice wrecked but smug. “She likes my rhythm.”

You didn’t even notice the way Steve bent you forward over Bucky, hands guiding your body like you were something precious and fragile and already ruined.

You didn’t have time to think too much before you felt Bucky’s hands grip your ass, pulling you open as Steve shifted behind you. It wasn’t until the thick, spongy head of his cock pressed against somewhere you’d never let anyone touch that your eyes snapped open in surprise.

The first inch pushed into your ass slowly, carefully, but it still stole your breath.

“It’s too much- I can’t- wait- ” you gasped, voice cracking with overwhelmed panic as your body instinctively tried to jerk away.

But Bucky rocked his hips upward, pushing deep into your pussy again, and the shockwave of pleasure was enough to paralyze your resistance.

“Shh... it’s okay,” Steve murmured, arms wrapping around you from behind as he continued to press in. His voice was thick and coaxing, his control iron-tight. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good for us.”

You sobbed, your whole body fluttering around them as Steve sank in deeper, the thin wall between your holes trembling with every inch he took. The two of them groaned in unison, voices rough and reverent as they filled you together.

You were caught between them now. Two super soldiers, all three of you lost in lust and need. Your face twisted with sensation as they held you there- one thick cock filling your pussy, the other spreading your ass open inch by inch. Both sunk to the hilt. You were impossibly full. You were shaking. Overwhelmed. Unable to process the stretch, the heat, the drag of their bodies inside you. It was too much. And you needed more.

“You’re both so… big- I’m gonna- fuck- ” you sobbed. You couldn’t believe how sensitive you’d become- how just being filled, just being stretched, could reduce you to this. You weren’t even moving, yet your body was already bracing to come undone again. There was no going back. No holding on. Just surrender.

You came without moving, the sensation of fullness alone tipping you over. Your body seized in the middle, core clenching violently, squeezing down on both of them at once as pleasure ripped through you like a lightning bolt.

Your voice cracked into a scream. You were gone- shaking, convulsing, burning from the inside out as your orgasm dragged through you with devastating force.

Both of them groaned at the way your body squeezed them- tight and hot and trembling.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, rocking his hips once more. “Didn’t even have to move. Just had to be inside you.”

Steve chuckled darkly, voice low and wrecked in your ear. “She’s that sensitive. That fucking perfect.”

You couldn’t even answer. Your lips parted in a silent gasp as Steve’s hands slid up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your stiff nipples as he started to move again. Slowly at first, easing back before pressing forward, dragging against that thin wall with every thick stroke.

Bucky's grip returned to your hips, steady and possessive, guiding you to rise and fall on his cock. Your body jolted with every motion, your moans soft and slurred.

“That’s it,” Steve cooed, hips snapping gently. “We’ll start slow…”

“I-I can’t- ” you whimpered, but your body was already moving, driven by instinct and need.

“I know you can take more,” he murmured. “Look how beautiful you are when you come apart. It'll feel better- just gotta keep going.”

And it did. It felt better than the denial. Better than the ache that came from holding back. The pleasure rolled through you like a drug, heavy and all-consuming.

Your hips started to move again, slowly grinding into Bucky as your walls fluttered around him. You didn’t know if it was need or instinct- maybe both- but you couldn’t stop. You were cock-drunk. Barely aware of anything except how good it felt to be filled this way.

“Breathe,” Steve whispered. “Just like that. Hold it- good girl.”

Then Steve pulled your hips back into him and pressed all the way in.

“You think you’re fucking her deep?” Steve growled at Bucky, voice low and wild. “Watch this.”

Bucky shoved his hand flat to your lower stomach and lifted his hips with a brutal thrust. You cried out, the stretch making your eyes roll back as he ground up into you. It was obscene how deep he reached, how thick he felt. You pawed at his chest, clinging to him with trembling fingers.

“..fuck fuck fuck...” you gasped, the breath knocked out of you before he eased his hips again, smug and steady.

“Told ya,” Bucky muttered with a grin.

But it didn’t stop there.

Bucky answered your gasps with harder thrusts. Steve listened for his name and answered with praise. His mouth latched to your neck, nipping and licking along your skin as he squeezed your breasts roughly, molding them in his palms.

“Did you hear that one? That was mine,” Steve muttered against your skin when you gasped his name.

Bucky answered with a sharp thrust that made your breath catch. “She moaned louder for me, sweetheart. Don’t get cocky.”

Each of them was locked into the game- testing reactions, adjusting pace, trying to claim the sounds that spilled from your lips. One made you cry out, the other drew a gasp. They used your body like a live wire for their competition, and you were helpless in the storm.

“She whimpers when I kiss her right here,” he growled, biting just beneath your ear.

Bucky’s hands gripped your hips tighter, fucking up into you hard enough to rock you against Steve’s chest. “She clenched around me when you said that,” he rasped. “Bet she’s trying to pick a favourite.”

You couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t think. You only managed to gasp whatever name escaped your lips first, and they both heard it- every time. And they responded with sharper thrusts, filthier praise.

“You’re so cock-drunk, you don’t even know who’s making you come anymore, do you?” Bucky said, voice rough.

“She’s beautiful like this,” Steve murmured, licking the sweat off your throat. “All wrecked. All ours.”

Then Bucky’s metal hand slid between your thighs again. His fingers brushed your clit, the coolness of steel a shocking chill of metal against your heat made you jolt, gasping as sparks danced up your spine.

“Oh- god - fuck- ” you sobbed, trembling uncontrollably as sparks shot up your spine.

“Breathe,” Steve ordered again. “Just like that. That’s our girl.”

They started to move faster now- driving into you in sync, pistoning in perfect rhythm. The slap of skin echoed, the slick sounds of your soaked cunt and the obscene wet pressure of being filled from both ends breaking whatever was left of your mind.

“You want to make her come, punk?” Bucky growled. “You gotta fuck her harder than that.”

“Shut up, jerk,” Steve snarled, thrusting harder. “We don’t need to break her. Just ruin her a little longer.”

“She’s shaking so bad. You keep her steady, Steve- I wanna see her face when she comes again.”

Your next orgasm ripped through you with a small wail, your features contorting as your body locked up tight. You clawed at them both- gripping Steve’s forearm, Bucky’s shoulder- as your walls fluttered around their cocks, milking them, begging for more without a word.

They didn’t stop. Didn’t give you time to come down. Steve groaned, his thrusts picking up as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. Bucky cursed, gripping your hips tighter, lifting and dropping you into him with growing urgency.

You felt them both losing control- felt their restraint slipping with every second you squeezed around them, heat and slickness pouring down your thighs.

“Fuck- fuck, she’s doing it again,” Bucky grunted.

Steve’s voice was a low growl in your ear. “She wants it. She’s not done. Not till we are.”

Then the pace shifted- harder, rougher, deeper. Their moans grew louder, matched only by the slap of skin on skin. Your head spun, your vision blurred.

And then they were coming again- Steve first, pulled tight to your back, his groan muffled in your shoulder. Then Bucky, buried deep beneath you, eyes locked on yours as he spilled inside you with a strangled moan.

You collapsed between them, limp and boneless, your body a trembling wreck held up only by their hands. You didn’t even try to move. There was no fight left in you- only the slow hum of satisfaction and overstimulation. Somewhere in the haze of your mind, a flicker of disbelief passed through you- how had you endured that? How had you survived the storm of them inside you? But there was no room for shame or second thoughts. Only surrender. And the quiet, overwhelming hum of being utterly, deliciously wrecked. You were too dazed to understand what was happening at first, the haze still thick behind your eyes. The humming under your skin hadn’t stopped, but it had dulled- muted to a low thrum that echoed in your bones. They were careful, even if your overstimulated body didn’t register it that way.

You whined, squirming, as they slowly pulled out of you. The stretch reversed, the heat slipping away, leaving you empty and raw. It wasn’t pain, but your body protested the loss with soft whimpers.

Someone pressed a water bottle to your lips, coaxing you to sip. You obeyed without thought, the coolness trickling down your throat a small mercy.

Another set of hands gently wiped you down. A cold, damp cloth slid between your legs, easing away the slick mess with slow, tender strokes.

Then your head was lowered into someone’s lap. Fingers carded through your hair.

“You did so well,” Steve murmured. “Look at you- perfect.”

You blinked slowly. Steve’s voice again, closer now: “Easy, sweetheart. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Your limbs twitched weakly, still responding to phantom pleasure. A quiet laugh came from Bucky.

“Still twitching. Still fucking gorgeous.”

You felt him kissing up your leg, mouth trailing along your calf, your knee, your inner thigh.

Then your legs were being moved again- lifted, spread with a gentleness that contrasted starkly with the earlier frenzy. There was no rush now, no urgency- just the soft reverence of Bucky's hands as he cradled your thighs like something precious, something breakable, as though he hadn’t just wrecked you minutes ago. You blinked, barely aware, as Bucky settled himself between them, laying flat, his breath hot against your oversensitive core.

He pressed a kiss there, soft and reverent, and your whole body jolted in response.

“And I’m not done tasting her,” he muttered, voice thick with need.

“Buck- she needs to recover,” Steve warned again, but his voice had softened to something indulgent.

“I’ll be gentle…” Bucky promised, his mouth already lowering, tongue dragging slow and careful over your aching folds as your head lolled back into Steve lap, eyes fluttering closed, lost to the warmth and the wetness and the impossible pleasure building again

TAGS: @buckybarnesfic, @ruexj283, @yesiamthatwierd @trojanaurora, @hextech-bros

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

What I wouldn't give for an animated "blooper reel" for Bad Batch:

- Hunter leaning up against a wall between takes, dozing off and almost falling over

- Tech looking down at his data pad while on the move through a forest set and walking straight into a tree

- Wrecker sitting down on the wrong chair and accidentally breaking it

- Echo flubbing his lines on purpose to make the others laugh while he keeps his own expression dead serious

- Crosshair not laughing when Echo flubs his lines, instead silently matching Echo's serious expression with the take ultimately turning into an intense staring contest

- Cut to Crosshair in his trailer loudly singing karaoke and playing air guitar with the prop rifle

- Omega is filming ALL of it

- Also Omega is the first to break character when anyone messes up a line

- Also Omega starting the cast conga line/dance party

- Rex, during his reveal in "The Clone Conspiracy," jokingly complaining that removing his cloak hood messes up his hair

- Several Howzer scenes needing to be reworked because donning/doffing his helmet actually messes up his hair cue Crosshair shouting from the sidelines "Just shave your head already"

- Gregor is... Gregor

- Phee being the pinnacle of professionalism while on camera while also being responsible for 99% of the pranks and shenanigans on set

[aldrawss]

“Did they teach you plan 72?”

Imagine Omega learning all the plans during one of her lessons with Tech, and the sheer horror on her face when she discovers what plan 99 entials. She’ll turn to him, terrified, and ask “we won’t have to use that plan, will we?”. He’ll look at her for a long moment, before eventually saying “I should certainly hope not”. Reassured by this, she’ll turn back to the data-pad and continue memorising the rest of the plans. But Tech will continue to stare at her for a long time afterwards, brown eyes sad behind his goggles. Because he knows, deep down, if the situation ever came to it;

He’d use plan 99 in a heartbeat.

[flightysparrow]

This is badass!!!

I love how Tech is showing his data pad to a tactical droid

Zeb is giving both Kallus and Hunter a hug

Crosshair isn’t even looking at the camera

There are loth cats!

I love the Zillo beast tail framing the screen

The 20 year logo is a clone trooper helmet

[motherroam-rs]

(Not) Broken

NSFW - 18+

Warnings/Tags: Alcohol, Smut, Fingering, Praise Kink, Oral Sex (both male and female receiving)

Relationship: Tech x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a comment from Crosshair has you feeling insecure, Tech offers some assistance in showing you that you’re not broken.

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: big thank you to @shinigami101 for helping me with this as well as @darklightcannon and Sophia for proofreading 🫶

NSFW Below the cut

You tap your foot against the durasteel floor of the marauder, the walkway extended before you, almost pointing to the cause of your annoyance striding towards it. Crosshair wears a tipsy smirk as he stares up at you, beginning his walk of shame up the steps. From this angle you catch sight of lipstick marks trailing down his neck and disappearing beneath his blacks. So that’s where he’s been.

“You’re late.” Your head shakes disapprovingly, the lasting effects of all the free drinks at 79’s only made you more irritable. You and Crosshair did typically get along - just not when he decided to make you all late for a mission just so he could enjoy having some girl wrapped around him.

“What, jealous?” Crosshair’s taunting voice carries over Wrecker’s snores as you pass by the larger clone slumped over in his chair, he had fallen asleep about twenty minutes prior, when the alcohol at least still had you feeling giddy.

“No, I’m annoyed because now we’re running behind because you decided it would be a good idea to kriff around with a Civ!” You drop yourself into your seat, yanking down the bar to secure yourself, and Crosshair does the same next to you.

Tech, the only one who’s entirely sober, has already begun preparations for take off, eyeing the pair of you between his ritualistic preparations for the Marauders flight. Always the designated pilot, it allowed the rest of you to soak up the drinks at 79’s and sleep them off before you all have to serve your duty in the war. You were thankful of his reliability every time he caught you from stumbling around like a newborn deer, and would wrap his arm around you to guide you back to the safety of the ship on those nights.

“Maybe if it were you, you wouldn’t be so uptight.��� His voice is humorous as he knocks his leg with your own, but you’re not in the mood to laugh with him.

“Kriff off, Crosshair.” You bite back before Hunter, despite being the most inebriated out of all of you, finds it in himself to pull out the sergeant card to get the two of you to stop bickering.

Crosshair was right though, you were jealous, but not in the way he thinks. Your mind flashes back to sweating bodies, discomfort, and ultimately - disappointment. Sure, you were still young, and given that you were following these soldiers into battlefields on any given day it didn’t exactly give you the opportunity to meet any men. Despite these factors, you were beginning to think there was something wrong with you.

Not a moment longer past the time you’re safely in hyperspace, you make an exit towards the bunks, not caring for any eyes that may be staring at your back before the door closes.

A soft knock echoes through the room and you take a deep breath as you hit the control panel, ready to tell Crosshair to go wash away the heavy smell of cheap perfume that now lingered in the cockpit, but the door opens to reveal someone else.

“It is just me.” He steps inside and you move back to the bunk, flopping down onto your back with as much grace as a bird shot from the sky. He closes the door behind him and takes a seat on his bunk, directly across from your own.

“Where are the others?” You’re surprised none of them have rushed in yet to claim their bunks for the night.

“They are already asleep,” Tech informs you, fiddling with his gloves in the absence of the data pad usually present in his hands. “You are upset.”

“Yes.” You confirm with a huff.

“Because of Crosshair's comment on your lack of sexual activity?” Credits to him, he had it right. Any of the others would have guessed it was just the delay the sniper had caused you, but not Tech. Despite his aversion to most people, he did understand you, and you liked to think you did in return.

“Why are you here, Tech?” You roll onto your front and groan into your pillow, which of course being GAR issued, barely muffles the noise.

“Why are you upset?” Tech sounds genuinely confused at your misery.

“Because it’s embarrassing?” You half laugh at his question.

“Because you have not engaged in intimate activities since-“ You cut him off before he can make you feel any worse about the night in question, how he had bumped into a man who never even got the opportunity to get out of his own pants. You remember how Tech had actually blushed, and was unable to make eye contact with you the whole next rotation.

“Because I can’t,” The words are spilling out to your friend before you can stop them, the alcohol in your brain only making them slip out easier. “I’m broken, Tech.” You pull yourself up to sit on the edge of the bunk to mirror him, the room spinning as you do so.

“I..” Tech pauses, his eyes momentarily flicking downwards to your thighs as he adjusts his goggles. “I am afraid I do not understand what you mean.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” You let yourself fall back onto the bunk once more, “I just can’t… finish.”

“Ah, you cannot achieve an orgasm.” The realisation in Tech’s voice makes your face burn.

“Oh maker.” You rip the pillow out from under your head and instead pull it over your face, as if you were a child hiding from an imaginary monster. But instead you’re just wishing the void of space would swallow you whole and save you from this conversation with Tech.

“It is nothing to be embarrassed about, would you say it is because your previous sexual partners were unsatisfactory or do you believe you are experiencing physical-“ He begins to reel off questions, each one making your face burn hotter.

This was not a conversation you wanted to be having with anyone on the team, let alone Tech, who would now just look at you as a broken part to a ship begging to be fixed.

“Tech!” You cut him off. “Just, leave, please?” You plead into the pillow, hoping he’s understood you.

You can’t see him, but you hear the soft creak of the bunk, and footsteps leading towards a door which opens with a soft whoosh.

He pauses, “I thought you wanted my help.” He lingers for a moment, until he’s sure you won’t respond, before leaving you once more.

Following the next mission, once you and Crosshair begrudgingly made up over Caf and teasing Hunter for being a lightweight before the batch and yourself as their medic head into battle, the Marauder is silent. For once, there is no bickering between the brothers, all of them having left to enjoy some local festivities on the planet you were stationed on for this evening. The only noise echoing throughout the bunks is the faint buzz of a vibrator and your shallow breaths.

You had it perfect, you’d showered, read a book to clear your mind, and even had a small glass of corellian whiskey to yourself. You’d received the bottle as a thank you for aiding an injured civilian and meant to save it for a special occasion, but something inside you said now was as good a time as any, especially considering the odd blaster bolt that came too close for comfort over the last few rotations.

All of the effort seems to be for nothing as you twist your free hand in the sheet, not in pleasure, but at irritation of your struggle for release. The other hand circles the edge of the vibrator over your clit, occasionally dipping down in an attempt to push it inside of you, but you’re not nearly relaxed or wet enough.

You’re so caught up in your frustration that you don’t hear the knock on the door, and the only warning you get to cover yourself comes from the light flooding into the room from the cockpit.

You jump upright, clutching the thin blanket to your bare chest and rip the vibrator away from between your legs.

“Oh,” Tech stammers from the doorway, still armoured and only lacking his helmet and gloves, his face flushed red. “I believe I have interrupted you.” Seemingly unsure of what to do, he slams his hand to the control panel, locking you both in the warm room.

“Yes.” You gulp, heart racing in your chest, fumbling to turn off the vibrator while it continues to buzz, as if it were laughing at you for your inability to cum.

“Any luck?”

Is he seriously asking you if you came?

“Tech.” You give a light warning, finally managing to switch off the device.

He gives you a questioning look, and you groan, sliding down against the mattress in defeat “No.”

Maybe it was the built up tension in you, or the fact you had a few drinks prior to your attempts but suddenly the confession works its way out of your throat.

“It’s just so frustrating, no matter what I do it’s not enough!” Tears threaten to fall and you scrunch your eyes closed.

“As I said before, I could help if you let me.” His voice is soft, level.

“How?” Your eyes open with an empty laugh and you find yourself staring at him, “Sorry, but I don’t exactly think the basic med training covers women’s intimacy issues, I know mine didn’t.”

“Perhaps I can find out the cause of your issue, if you will allow me to look.” He suggests, kneeling next to the bunk, his tone as casual as if he were discussing an issue with the Marauder.

“You want to watch me?” The words sound even more ridiculous aloud. Tech was your closest friend on the team, surely this would be crossing every line possible.

Tech looks at you with soft eyes full of reassurance, as if reading your thoughts, “I promise that nothing will change between us.”

His gaze is fixed on yours and something in his eyes makes the protest die on your tongue, his hand covers your own that is gripping the blanket to your chest. It feels warm and comforting, and your heart slows at the contact. His other hand presses on top of your knee that peeks out of the blanket, and you can’t recall a time he’s ever touched you with such purpose.

You pause for a moment, suppressing a shiver at the way his thumb brushes comforting circles on your knee, and take the opportunity to look into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. Finding none, with the help of the whiskey you exhale your concerns, ripping off the proverbial bacta patch as you allow him to pull the blanket away from your bare body.

When you close your eyes in a mixture of arousal and embarrassment at Tech seeing you this way, you miss the way that his own widen in slight surprise and adoration, before darkening with lust.

He gives an encouraging nod as he applies light pressure to the inside of your knees, guiding them apart. If he feels any of the embarrassment that you do now, he certainly doesn’t show it with his gaze fixed between your legs.

“To begin, I would like for you to attempt to make yourself orgasm.” Your eyes snap open again, stomach tensing at his request. “Breathe, dear, it’s just us.”He quickly calms you, continuing to brush his thumb on your knee, and seats himself at the end of your bunk.

It’s just Tech, you’re friends, it’s not weird, he’s here to help you. You remind yourself, drawing a breath at his expectant eyes before trailing a hand down your body, which is entirely bare despite the fact that Tech remains near fully armoured. You think you hallucinate the small gasp from the end of the bunk when your fingers reach their destination, dragging slow circles on your clit.

“Would you like me to record this? I know that I typically record everything without asking but I need your consent in this situation.” His offer is uncharacteristically fast for the man who is used to keeping a level head in the middle of battle.

You bite your lip, your head already nodding before your brain can formulate an answer, and your cheeks flush at how the knowledge of Tech recording you makes your stomach tighten and wetness coat your fingers.

You withdraw your hand from between your legs, waiting as he presses the button on the side of his goggles and a small red light assures you it’s recording. “Continue what you were doing before.” He instead presses the vibrator to your open hand, turning the device on.

“Remember what I just told you, dear, breathe.” Tech reassures you once again when your breath begins to quicken. He keeps one hand on your knee as the other guides your own to position the vibrator on your clit, and you suck in a sharp breath at the contact, suppressing the moan begging to be heard.

“It is just us here, you do not have to silence yourself.” Tech's voice is hushed, but still floods your ears. The sound of it only makes you tighten around nothing.

You try to tell him that you can’t, that it’s bad enough that you’re in this situation, but that he’s helping you with it. Tech, your teammate, your friend. But, you’re not given much choice when he guides your own hand to add pressure with the vibrator, “Tech!”

You swear you hear his breath hitch at the unrestrained cry, or perhaps it’s your own.

“Very good.” He withdraws his hand.

Has his voice always sounded that tense?

You continue your movements, allowing your head to fall back on the thin pillow which seems to be the only thing grounding you to the real world at this moment. You let out a small moan when the bunk creaks and a bare hand presses to your inner thigh, forcing one of your legs into a position that will allow him a better view.

“It seems you are approaching an orgasm.” He encourages, leaning forward in quiet awe. You don’t respond, you already know what’s coming, just as you’re steps away from the precipice, the fire diminishes, leaving your body flushed and unsatisfied.

“That’s what I mean, Tech.” Your eyes finally settle on him between your legs, and despite your failed attempt to cum, you involuntarily tighten. You switch off the vibrator, discarding it on the bunk, but Tech raises his hand to catch your wrist before you can pull the covers over your naked form.

“Fascinating,” You’re about to kick him away at that, until his next statement renders your body useless. “May I try?” Techs hand guiding your own was one thing, but for him to use his own on you has your heart going faster than a pod race. You don’t know what’s possessed you, but your body responds before your mind has made its decision and you’re giving him a small nod.

He waits a moment, eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation, before he’s leaning back to take his position between your legs, which had closed again on instinct.

“Please, relax for me.” He gently pulls apart your thighs, his fingers immediately moving upwards, lightly grazing over the soft skin.

“You appear to be wet enough, no issue there.” His thumb smears the fluid up your slit to your clit, opening you up in one motion and you gasp. Your hands find purchase in your bedsheets, and it takes every bit of control in you to not chase after his hand with your hips.

“No lessened sensation either, good.” He mumbled to himself but you can barely hear him over your own heartbeat as he moves to drag slow circles around your clit with his thumb, earning him another moan from you. At the noise, you catch Tech briefly adjusting his codpiece, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“Tech?” Even in battle you’ve never been so breathless, and he gives a strained hum of acknowledgment, his middle finger dipping back down to circle your entrance.

“You can take it off if it’s - ah!” The words are stolen when his finger sinks into you effortlessly, and your hand grips the metal edge of the bunk while your brain scrambles to find the end of the sentence. “If you’re uncomfortable.”

He doesn’t respond verbally, but the soft click of his codpiece being released signals that he’s heard you, and he presses his hips back to the mattress. Once certain you have adjusted, he adds another finger, working them inside you with a scissoring motion that has you chanting his name in a breathless prayer.

You become increasingly aware of how he’s grinding himself into the mattress with every strangled moan and whimper he can pull from you, slipping from his usual control.

You can barely begin to form words at this point beyond his name, your senses instantly zeroing in on the harsh warm breath fanning across your exposed cunt as his fingers withdraw from you. You barely get a moment to glance at his head between your thighs before his lips press to your clit, tongue darting out to taste you.

“Is this okay?” Tech’s voice is rough, nearing Crosshair levels of hoarse.

“Maker, yes Tech.” You practically sob, and just as your mouth utters his name, he’s diving in, tongue exploring you like a man starved. At the intensity of the sensation, your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he’s fast to hitch one of your legs over his shoulder while pinning the other one down to keep you open for him.

A thin layer of sweat forms on your skin as your hands tightly grip the sheets at his attention to your cunt. First, he’s zeroing in on your clit, licking and sucking in a way that almost has you in tears, before he moves down to dip inside you, tasting you, and then repeats the process.

The orgasm is approaching fast like a wave threatening to break at shore, but then the tide begins to recede. Tech seems to sense this, pulling back and releasing your clit with a wet noise that seems to echo through the empty room.

”Look at me, Mesh’la.” Tech demands and you meet his burning gaze. Through the flames in his goggle framed eyes, you find encouragement. He wants you to watch him. Once he’s sure you’re focused on him, he returns his mouth to your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth whilst delving two fingers inside.

You don’t know what possesses you to make the offer, whether it be the haze of pleasure in your mind, or the way his hips continue to rut into the mattress, but it spills from your lips without any filter “Tech, I can help you too- Kriff!” He sucks particularly hard at this before releasing you so he can listen to your offer, “But I’m not sure how to take care of us both at once, or if you want to…” you gesture down to his erection straining against his blacks, “Help your own situation?”.

You practically see the cogs whir in his mind, and he sits up, beginning to rid himself of his armour. “Stand up.” He orders, and despite the way your legs shake, you obey the order, gripping the upper bunk for support.

You stare at Tech, slightly confused, and a small smile graces his lips, still coated with evidence of your arousal. He’s bare from the waist up, and his hands now make steady work of removing his lower blacks in one swift motion. Your attention is caught by the sight of his cock standing proud against his tanned abdomen. You knew biologically there is some correlation between height and the size, and with Tech being tall that he would be above average, but your lips fall open at the length. You still weren’t sure what he had in mind, but you’re suddenly unsure you can handle it.

“Do not be intimidated, Cyar’ika, I will help you.” One hand reaches to your jaw, brushing a thumb along it almost lovingly while the other settles on your hips, pulling you down onto the bunk with him. Both hands are now slipping below your thighs, pulling you into a position so that you’re straddling his chest, facing towards the foot of the bunk, facing his cock.

So this is what his solution is.

“Move closer.” Tech’s grip on your hips is as firm as his voice when he tugs you up to his mouth, hot breath fanning across your cunt in another soft warning before his tongue runs over your slit in one strong motion.

Tech seems to be paying attention to the way your legs shake from the effort of holding yourself up, because one of his hands extends to your upper back, pushing you into a position where your breasts press to his stomach. At this new angle, you’re fully seated on his face, and you’re able to wrap a curious hand around his girth to give his cock an experimental tug. The moan that reverberates against your cunt has you sending a thank you to the maker that Hunter wasn’t nearby to overhear the methods his brother was using on you to assist with your predicament.

Tech’s cock is now inches from your lips and you marvel at it momentarily before allowing your tongue to run over the head, beginning to move your hand to at least grant him some relief. He jolts, groaning, and you pull back.

“Are you okay - am I hurting you?” In your limited experience with this, you’d never had any complaints, but now you worry that your partners just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

“No!” He protests immediately, as if you were asking him if he’d like to be executed, “You’re not hurting me, please continue.”

At his insistence, your tongue licks another wet circle over the weeping head of Tech’s cock, and his thighs tense at the effort not to thrust into your mouth. You appreciate the sign of restraint from him and you tighten your hand around the base of his cock, finally taking him into your mouth. The taste and smell of him intoxicate you, igniting memories of every time you’ve stood just an inch too close to each other to the point you could practically inhale his calming presence.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought this before, being here, with him. Suppressed thoughts rise to your mind and you close your eyes to bask in the moment with him, like it’s a dream that will be ripped from you.

Due to his impressive length, your lips are barely touching your fingers by the time he hits your throat and you release a drawn out moan, muffled by his cock. He sucks your clit into his mouth at this action, bringing tears to your eyes from the overwhelming stimulation.

You feel him draw his hips back, sliding out of your mouth and allowing you to take a breath before giving a short thrust in to stop at the back of your throat, which causes drool to begin leaking down his exposed cock and on your fingers.

Soon enough, the pair of you are a sight that would make a brothel patron blush. Tech continues his measured thrusts into your mouth and you take it with a moan when he begins to work you on his fingers once more. You can feel yourself practically dripping down his chin, and your stomach begins to tense - until the expected disappointment. Just as you begin to approach that high, it seems to pull further and further away from you once more.

Not again.

Tech seems to have read your mind and agreed with a strained “No,” as he pulls away from your cunt, but the room still echoes with the wet sound of his fingers scissoring into your heat.

“I need your full focus, I will not fail you at this Mesh’la.” He lifts you off his face and you release his throbbing cock from your lips. His grip is firmer than before, likely from the mounting frustration at his incomplete task, as he pulls you to face him. In this new position, you’re straddling him and you can feel the press of his cock to your inner thigh.

“Do you trust me?” There’s determination in his eyes, as if you’re a piece of the Marauder that he needs to fix.

“Always, Tech.” His eyes soften momentarily at this, but he reminds himself of the task at hand and with a speed you’ve only seen him use in battle, he’s flipped you both so you’re pinned underneath him once more.

Now that he’s above you, his length seems even more daunting and your hand grips his shoulder when you feel the head of his cock press to your entrance. Your whole body seems to tense, and you can’t help but dig your nails to his shoulder, which brings his eyes to yours.

“Shh, Mesh’la, that’s it, relax.” Tech’s voice is gentle but authoritative as he instructs you, pressing a kiss to your jaw. Even with his thorough preparation of your body, the stretch as he enters you is overwhelming, and yet, it’s better than anything you’ve ever felt. You had been preparing for the usual pain and discomfort, but this was on the opposite end of the scale.

“Breathe for me Cyar’ika,” he presses another kiss just below your ear and his voice sounds almost strangled. “That’s it, good girl.” He pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back into yours, delving deeper into you.

“Just a little more, I promise, you can take it, you’re-“ a low groan sounds in his throat and you feel his lips ghost against the edge of your ear. “Taking me so kriffing well already.”

Is this the first time you’ve ever heard Tech swear?

He’s entirely inside you and the fullness is now euphoric. Tan skin is coated with a sheen of sweat that makes him look almost angelic, his lips and cheeks flushed from the effort of holding back from pushing you too far when he begins to rock his hips into yours.

A string of Mando’a curses tumble from his mouth as he falls into a rhythm of slow thrusts, keeping the pace your body needs to chase its high that hasn’t quite worn off from all the previous work his mouth set you up for. The precipice is no longer escaping you, he’s keeping you there, dangling you over the edge of it whilst simultaneously grounding you to him.

The room echoes with every gasp, thrust, and moan. It’s some kind of erotic orchestra conducted by Tech to encourage you along, and it’s working. One of his hands tangles in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he can press wet, open mouthed kisses against your pulse point.

Every action that Tech’s making, no matter how small, has you more intoxicated than any drug in existence, and your legs tighten impossibly around his hips in an attempt to keep him close to you. To help you let go.

“It’s okay, you can let go for me, Cyar’ika.” Tech’s reassuring words speaking your own thoughts are all you need to push you over the edge. You’re gasping into his shoulder, and you can’t help but bite into the soft skin with a desperate plea of his name. He shudders at this, slamming into you with now uneven thrusts as he buries his face in your neck.

“That’s it, I’ve got you.” Tech is coherent enough to be guiding you through your own release, despite being overcome with his own. His lust laced voice is all you can hear over the overload of your senses, a sharp whisper in your ear to guide you through this new world of pleasure where you tighten around his cock like you’re trying to keep him deep inside you.

It’s a blissful moment, with Tech entirely spent between your legs, tears rolling down your face and his name still in your mouth. It’s a moment that’s over too soon when he withdraws from you, and you can’t help but moan at the release of fluid between your thighs. Your friend's cum is leaking out of you, only momentarily, because he’s already grabbed his blacks from the end of the bunk to press between your thighs, cleaning the mess from your legs.

“I’ll wash them.” He assures you.

Once satisfied that you’re both taken care of, he lays next to you on the defiled bunk, pulling your half limp body against his. You never thought that Tech would be the kind for intimacy after sex, and yet you can hear his steady heartbeat against your cheek. You’re honoured, almost, for him to hold you like this when he found discomfort in most physical contact.

“I told you that you were not broken, Cyare, I am always correct.” He presses his lips to your forehead, and despite how he’s just brought you to the very brink of what your body could handle, your chest tightens.

Were you broken? No, he’d proven that much. Were you kriffed because of how your heart seems to skip a beat at the small moment of tenderness with your friends lips against your hairline? Yes, you were.

[i-dont-know-how-this-site-works]

Echo checks his comm after a long day of fighting the empire, part 27032024

(4)Message from: Hunter

"I think Crosshair is finally making friends."

"That's good, right?"

"I don't like his new friend. It's probably better if you don't know who that is."

"Also, do you think I am overprotective sometimes?"

(6)Message from: Wrecker

"lmao hunter is so overprotective, u gotta come bac cause he is losing it again"

"And Crosshair made a friend today! he is so grumpy about it tho"

"u know, the fisherwoman that took mega out on a trip 1 time"

"oh, btw, someone came bac with the intel we told u bout, but dont worry bout it"

"question"

"what would u do if u had a little jedi kid"

(3)Message from: Crosshair

"I did not make any friends."

"I hate having friends."

"And you just wait till you hear who these two idiots brought here"

(8)Message from: <3 my best girl <3

"Echooo! Do you know Ventress?"

"she came by and made me stand on slippery rocks and we went out on a boat to summon fish and stuff"

<3 my best girl <3 sent a photo: *Omega smiling into the camera, Assajj grumpily stares into the ocean in the background*

"Hunter told me she was a war criminal, but she was nice to me"

"she saved me from a huge sea monster that we accidentally summoned"

"oh, and she tried to kill Hunter and Wrecker, but she didn't and she left us alone in the end"

"I hope they told you she was here"

"And Crosshair made two friends today! You know, he helped Lyana's cousin and he was nice to Assajj one time, so I think it counts as friendship when it comes to him."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

(4568) Missed calls from: Tech

(99+) Messages from: Tech

"Dear Echo,

If you finally get to check your spam folder, please tell them to stop touching my stuff. I saw someone logged into my data pad today. This is unacceptable.

Kind regards,

Tech, CT-9902"

[techechobase]

I need to go to Costco today and of course I’m wondering “what would the Bad Batch be like in Costco?”

Tech has the grocery list on his data pad.

Hunter is pushing the cart.

Omega is attached to his hip until she sees mantell mix in bulk.

Echo is telling Omega they are not buying that much mantell mix (but then they do).

Wrecker is definitely waiting for the rotisserie chickens.

Crosshair is gassing up the marauder while gonky keeps him company after already buying his toothpicks in bulk.

And bonus: Uncle Rex is in line for a big pizza for family dinner later.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Happy Weekend! I was wondering if you could do an angst fic w/ TBB x Fem!Reader where they’re on a mission and the ground crumbles beneath her and she falls and they think she could be dead? Thanks! Xx

Happy Thursday! Sorry for the delay, I hope this is somewhat what you had in mind😊

“Echoes in the Dust”

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Falling, presumed death, grief, survivor’s guilt, panic

The ridge was narrow. Too narrow.

You moved with your blaster raised and your jaw set, following closely behind Wrecker as the team pushed forward. The rocky terrain was riddled with ravines, fault lines, and fractured earth—left scarred by years of shelling and seismic bombardments. The mission was supposed to be simple: infiltrate a Separatist holdout and extract data.

It was never simple.

“Movement on the northwest cliff,” you called into your comm. “Looks like clankers repositioning.”

“Copy that,” Echo’s voice crackled. “Tech, I’m sending coordinates to your pad.”

Hunter glanced back at you, just a flick of his head, a silent confirmation. You nodded. I’m good.

You were always good. Until the ground gave out beneath you.

It was subtle at first—just a soft shift under your boots, like loose gravel. But then came the snap. A hollow, wrenching crack that echoed through the canyon like thunder. The rock splintered beneath your feet. You didn’t have time to scream.

Just time to look up—into Hunter’s eyes.

“[Y/N]—!”

You dropped.

The last thing you saw was his outstretched hand, just a second too late.

Then the world became air and stone and darkness.

⸻

Above, everything exploded into chaos.

Hunter hit the ridge on his knees, arms dragging at loose rock, clawing like an animal trying to dig you back out. “No, no, no—”

Echo slid in beside him, scanning with one cybernetic arm extended. “I can’t see her. It’s—kriff—it’s a vertical drop. She went straight down.”

“I should’ve grabbed her!” Wrecker was pacing in wild circles, fists clenched, eyes wet. “I was right in front of her—I should’ve—she was right there!”

“She didn’t even scream,” Echo murmured. “She just… vanished.”

“I’m scanning for vitals,” Tech said, already tapping furiously at his datapad, but his voice was thin. “There’s no signal. No movement. Her comm—either it was destroyed in the fall or… or she’s—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Hunter snapped, voice like a knife.

The wind howled through the crevice she’d fallen into, dragging dust and silence with it.

Crosshair stood several meters back, motionless, his DC-17M dangling loosely in his grip.

“Say it,” Echo growled, glaring at him. “You’ve been quiet this whole time. Just say whatever snide thing you’re thinking so we can all lose it together.”

Crosshair’s eyes flicked up, storm-gray and unreadable.

“She’s dead.”

“Shut your mouth!” Wrecker roared, storming toward him, but Echo shoved himself in between.

“She could be alive,” Echo said fiercely, though his voice cracked. “It’s possible. People survive worse.”

Crosshair didn’t move. “Not from that height.”

“I said shut it!” Wrecker shoved him back, but it was all broken fury—guilt bleeding through his rage. “She was smiling, dammit. Right before. She looked at me and said, ‘We’ll all get out of this,’ and I didn’t even answer her back—!”

“Stop.” Hunter’s voice cut clean through the storm.

He stood now, rigid and furious, his back to the team, staring into the void where you’d fallen.

“She’s alive,” he said.

Tech looked up from his pad slowly. “Statistically—”

“I don’t give a damn about statistics.” His voice was hoarse. “I felt her. She was right here. She’s part of us. She wouldn’t just be… gone.”

His hand trembled slightly. Not from fear. From the weight of it.

He was the one who told you to cover the flank. He was the one who said the ridge was stable enough.

She trusted you, Crosshair had said.

No. She trusted him.

And he’d failed her.

Hunter turned and began strapping a rope to his belt.

“Sergeant?” Tech asked cautiously.

“We’re going down there. All of us. We don’t stop until we find her. I don’t care if we have to tear the planet apart.”

Echo moved first. “I’m with you.”

Wrecker stepped up beside them, his breath hitching. “Me too. Always.”

Even Crosshair nodded, silent again.

As Hunter stood at the edge, ready to descend into the place where you vanished, a single thought thundered in his mind:

She can’t be gone.

Not you.

Not when your laugh was still echoing in his ears. Not when you told him last night, during watch, that you’d be careful. Not when he never got to tell you that he needed you more than he ever let on.

He’d find you.

Or die trying.

⸻

The descent into the ravine was slow, agonizing, and silent.

The team moved as one—Hunter leading with a lantern clipped to his belt, casting narrow beams over jagged rock and twisted earth. Echo and Tech followed with scanners, mapping every crevice. Wrecker moved boulders with his bare hands, gritting his teeth with each one. Crosshair, ever the rear guard, watched from behind, but his silence was sharp, eyes flicking everywhere.

Hunter’s voice echoed through the narrow stone corridor. “Check every ledge. Every outcropping.”

“She could’ve hit a rock shelf and rolled,” Echo said, carefully scanning below. “Or worse…”

“Don’t,” Wrecker said. “Don’t even say it. She’s alive. She has to be.”

They moved deeper into the ravine—until the beam of Hunter’s light caught something.

“Wait,” Tech whispered, grabbing Echo’s arm.

There—thirty feet below them, half-buried under collapsed shale and bloodied stone—was a figure.

Your figure.

You were sprawled on your side, your body twisted unnaturally, one leg crushed beneath a slab of rock. Blood soaked through your jacket. Your head had struck something hard—too hard—and you weren’t moving.

Hunter nearly dropped the lantern.

“[Y/N]—!”

He was down the rest of the way before anyone could stop him, crashing to his knees beside you.

“Don’t move her!” Echo shouted, sliding in behind. “Not yet. Let me check—”

But Hunter’s hands were already trembling as they hovered over you, too afraid to touch. Too afraid that this—this fragile, broken thing—was all that was left.

“She’s breathing,” Echo said. “Shallow. Pulse is—kriff—irregular. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Wrecker dropped beside them, tears already streaking the dust on his cheeks.

“Is she—? She’s gonna make it, right? Echo?”

“She’s unconscious,” Echo said quietly. “And we need to get her out now.”

“Spinal trauma is possible,” Tech added, eyes locked on his scanner. “Multiple fractures. Her femur is broken—bleeding into the tissue. Concussion. Rib damage. Internal bleeding likely.”

Crosshair didn’t come any closer. He stood just at the edge of the light, staring down at you with an unreadable expression.

“You said she was dead,” Wrecker growled, voice shaking.

Crosshair didn’t respond.

Because he knew now—death would’ve been kinder than this.

The med evac was chaotic.

Hunter carried you the entire climb back—refused to let anyone else even try. He held you close to his chest like something fragile, as if you’d fall again if he let go. Your blood had soaked through his armor by the time they reached the surface.

Back on the Marauder, the team worked together in silent urgency. Wrecker helped secure you to the gurney. Echo and Tech patched what they could. Crosshair kept watch, pacing like a trapped animal.

And Hunter… he sat beside you.

His hands were covered in your blood.

“I should’ve caught you,” he whispered.

No one argued. No one corrected him.

Because part of them believed it too.

You twitched in your sleep once—just a small movement, a flicker of pain across your brow—and Hunter nearly leapt out of his seat.

“She moved!” he barked.

“She’s still unconscious,” Tech reminded. “That doesn’t guarantee cognition. The swelling in her brain—”

“I don’t care what the scans say,” Hunter growled. “She’s fighting.”

He reached down and brushed a blood-matted strand of hair from your face.

“You hear me?” he whispered, voice cracking. “You hold on. You fight like you always do. You’re not going to leave us like this.”

Wrecker sat on the floor beside the cot, staring at your hand dangling off the edge.

“You’re not allowed to die, okay?” he said, softly, almost childlike. “You still owe me a rematch.”

Echo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw clenched tight. “She shouldn’t have been the one to fall. It should’ve been—”

“Don’t,” Tech said, just as quiet. “We all blame ourselves. That’s not useful now.”

Only Crosshair said nothing.

But later—when the others had finally dozed off in shifts, and the med droid was running scans—he sat beside you alone.

“Idiots, all of them,” he muttered. “They think they lost you. I know better.”

He rested his hand beside yours.

“You’re not dead. You’re just too damn stubborn.”

There was a pause.

“…So come back. Or I’ll never forgive you.”

You didn’t wake up that night. Or the next.

But your vitals held.

You were still fighting.

And the squad—your family—never left your side.

⸻

It started with a sound.

A weak, choked wheeze from the medbay.

Wrecker heard it first—he’d been sitting on the floor beside your cot for the past hour, humming under his breath and telling you stories like he had every day since they pulled you from the ravine.

But when he heard your breathing stutter—heard that awful, wet gasp—he was on his feet in an instant.

“Tech!”

Footsteps thundered in from the cockpit.

Tech was there in seconds, datapad in one hand, expression already shifting from calculation to panic.

“Vitals are dropping. Pulse erratic. Respiratory distress—dammit—her lung may have collapsed.”

The med droid whirred a warning in binary, and Tech shoved it aside, already working to stabilize you. Wrecker stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides, helpless as machines blared and blood began soaking through your bandages again.

“She was getting better,” Wrecker whispered. “She was breathing normal yesterday. You said she was stabilizing!”

“I said her vitals were holding,” Tech snapped, voice tight and uncharacteristically sharp. “I also said we didn’t know the full extent of internal damage yet. The concussion is worsening. There’s pressure building against her brainstem. Her body is going into systemic shock.”

“Then fix it!” Wrecker’s voice cracked. “You fix everything! Please—”

Tech’s hands moved fast, too fast—grabbing gauze, recalibrating IV drips, re-administering stimulants. But beneath the precision was fear. A gnawing, brittle kind of fear that made his fingers shake.

“I’m trying,” Tech said, barely above a whisper now. “I’m trying, Wrecker.”

Your body jerked suddenly—just a twitch, but it sent a ripple of panic through them both.

Tech cursed under his breath. “She needs proper medical facilities. A bacta tank. A neuro-regeneration suite. This ship is not equipped to handle this kind of trauma long-term.”

“So what, we just wait and watch her die?” Wrecker whispered.

“No!” Tech snapped, louder this time. “We don’t let her die.”

He slammed his fist down on the console—just once—but the sound echoed like a gunshot through the Marauder. Wrecker flinched. Tech never lost control. Never raised his voice. Never made a sound unless it meant something.

And now, he looked like he was about to break.

“I’ve calculated a thousand outcomes,” Tech murmured, softer now. “And every variable keeps changing. Her body is unpredictable. She’s unstable. But she’s also resilient. She’s survived things that should’ve killed her ten times over.”

He looked up then, eyes glassy behind his goggles.

“But if we don’t find a way to get her real care—soon—we will lose her.”

Wrecker turned away, one massive hand covering his face. He’d never felt so useless. Not when they’d crashed on Ordo. Not when they’d been stranded on Ryloth. Never like this.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I’m strong. I can carry her. Fight for her. But I can’t fix her, Tech. I can’t even hold her without hurting her worse.”

Tech approached quietly, placing a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder—a rare gesture.

“You are helping,” he said. “You’re keeping her tethered. She needs that. She needs us.”

The med console beeped—soft, steady. A pause.

Then a spike.

Her heart rate surged. Your head tilted slightly to the side. Blood trickled from your nose. Another alarm.

“No, no, no—stay with us,” Tech muttered, already grabbing the stabilizer. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

Wrecker dropped to his knees beside you, voice trembling.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You don’t get to leave like this. You didn’t even finish your story about the time you pantsed Crosshair in front of the general. Remember that?”

He sniffed, brushing a strand of hair from your sweat-slicked face. “You said you’d tell me how you pulled it off without getting court-martialed. Said you’d sing me that dumb lullaby you like. Said you’d stay.”

Your fingers twitched.

A tiny movement. Almost nothing.

But Wrecker gasped.

“She moved!”

Tech’s head snapped up. “What?”

“She moved! Her hand—right here—she twitched.”

Tech scanned you again. “Neurological activity spiked. Minimal, but—”

You let out a weak, pained breath.

Another wheeze. Then a garbled sound—almost like a word, trapped somewhere deep in your throat.

“…H-Hun…ter…”

Both men froze.

Tears filled Wrecker’s eyes.

“She said his name…”

“She’s still in there,” Tech whispered, blinking quickly. “Cognitive reflexes are initiating. That’s… that’s something.”

He turned to Wrecker, and for once, there was nothing cold or clinical in his tone.

“There’s still time.”

They kept watch through the night. Neither slept.

Wrecker read to you from the old datapad you always teased him for hoarding.

Tech adjusted your vitals every hour, even when nothing had changed, just to keep his hands busy.

And in the silence between beeping monitors and heavy breaths, they both spoke to you—about nothing, about everything.

Wrecker told you about the time he and you almost got arrested on Corellia for stealing bad caf. How your laugh had made him feel human again.

Tech told you the probability of your survival was now sitting at 18.6%, up from 9%. And that statistically, if anyone could beat the odds, it was you.

Wrecker chuckled through his tears. “Told you, didn’t I? Too stubborn to die.”

Tech looked down at your still hand, then whispered—just once—“Please… don’t.”

⸻

The Marauder was silent.

Tech had finally collapsed from exhaustion in the co-pilot seat, goggles askew, still clutching the datapad with your vitals. Wrecker was curled on the floor next to your bed, snoring lightly with one hand near yours. Crosshair sat with his back to the far wall, arms crossed, eyes closed—but not asleep.

And Echo stayed awake.

He always did.

He was seated at your bedside, one cybernetic hand gently resting on the edge of the cot. The hum of the ship’s systems filled the space between the heart monitor’s steady rhythm. Your breathing—still shallow, but no longer ragged—was the only music Echo needed.

He hadn’t moved for hours.

You’d gotten worse. Then better. Then worse again. And through all of it, he’d held on. Let the others break. Let them rage. He had to be the one who didn’t fall apart.

But now, as he sat alone in the flickering light, his thumb brushed your bandaged hand—and he whispered, “You can’t keep scaring us like this.”

Your lips moved.

Barely.

He straightened. “Hey…?”

Your fingers twitched under his hand.

Your head shifted slightly on the pillow, a soft whimper escaping your throat. Your eyelashes fluttered—slow, disoriented, like your mind hadn’t caught up to your body.

“Hey.” Echo leaned closer, voice trembling now. “Come on… come on, mesh’la. You’re safe.”

Your eyes opened.

Just a sliver at first. Squinting into the low light.

“…Echo…?”

It was a rasp, a whisper, but it was real.

Echo’s mouth fell open.

And for the first time since the fall—since the screaming, the blood, the race against time—his composure cracked.

You blinked slowly, pain visible behind your glazed eyes. “W-Where…?”

“Still on the Marauder. We haven’t moved. We couldn’t.” His voice was low and hoarse. “You weren’t stable enough.”

Your brow furrowed faintly. “Hurts.”

“I know.” He gently adjusted your oxygen mask, smoothing your hair back. “You took a hell of a fall.”

You tried to shift, but your body betrayed you—wracked with weakness, ribs aching, limbs sluggish.

Echo placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Don’t move yet. Please. Just stay still.”

You obeyed—too tired to fight it.

“I thought…” You coughed, eyes fluttering. “Thought I heard Wrecker crying.”

Echo actually smiled, though his eyes were wet. “Yeah. That happened.”

You let out the faintest exhale—almost a laugh. “He’s a big softie.”

“Only for you,” Echo whispered, squeezing your hand carefully. “You scared him half to death.”

There was a long pause.

You looked up at him, brow knitting again.

“…You thought I was gone, didn’t you?”

Echo’s throat tightened. “We all did.”

“But you stayed.”

“Of course I stayed.”

Your gaze lingered on him. He looked exhausted. Hollowed out. His prosthetic arm twitched like he’d been clenching it too long.

“You haven’t slept.”

He laughed quietly—bitter and warm all at once. “Didn’t want to miss this.”

Another silence.

And then, so faint it barely reached him, you whispered—

“…I’m sorry.”

Echo stared at you, stunned.

“For what?” he breathed.

“For falling. For worrying you. For being weak.”

His expression broke. “No.”

He leaned in, voice rough. “Don’t ever say that. You didn’t fall because you were weak. You fell because the ground gave out. Because war is cruel. Because life isn’t fair.”

He blinked back tears. “But you lived. And that means more than anything.”

Your vision blurred—not from injury this time, but from the emotion in his voice.

He looked at you like you were the most important thing in the galaxy.

“I thought I lost you,” he said. “And I wasn’t ready.”

You let your eyes close again, overwhelmed by exhaustion—but you smiled softly through cracked lips.

“I’m here.”

He pressed his forehead gently to your hand, exhaling a shaky breath.

“You’re here.”

When the others returned—when Hunter stumbled in and dropped to his knees, when Wrecker cried again, when Crosshair stood frozen for a full minute, just staring—you were already asleep.

But Echo met Hunter’s gaze.

And nodded.

“She woke up.”

And for the first time in days, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

[leapingbadger]

Tattoo

Read on AO3

***

“Does it hurt” Omega asked, hovering over her brother.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Hunter replied, eyes closed. The buzzing made his brain feel like it was vibrating but there was no pain to speak of. He’d had much worse in battle.

“Like you’d say if it did,” Crosshair said witheringly. “You didn’t even complain when you got that shrapnel in the neck, remember?” He was bent over Hunter’s chest, scraping at the skin with the tattoo gun and aggressively wiping away the blood and excess ink.

Omega gasped, “you got shrapnel in your neck?” she asked Hunter, alarmed.

“Omega doesn’t know that story?” Crosshair said, a toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth absentmindedly.

“We didn’t tell her all of them yet. We were kind of preoccupied,”

“But yeah,” he said, turning to Omega. “I had to leave it in until we could get back to base.” He said, moving his hair with his left hand so she could see the slit-like scar on the back of his neck. Omega shook her head at him, sat back down, cross legged on the floor, elbows on her knees, chin in her hand.

“I remember that. Made me feel sick,” Wrecker said. He was next to Omega, scratching Batcher behind the ear. Her collar jingled and her tongue dangled out of the side of her mouth.

Hunter chuckled. The sun was streaming through the window of the small common room.

“What about Skako Minor?” Crosshair asked.

“Are you kidding,” Wrecker said, “that was her bedtime story for a while. Tech and Echo loved telling her that one,” Omega nodded in agreement.

Hunter was stretched out on the couch, arms behind his head. It had been a while since he’d gotten a new tattoo.

He had paid a professional to get his face tattoo and the skeletal outline on the left side of his body, but the others had been done by his brothers. The skull with a 99 in aurebesh on his right bicep was done by Crosshair on a particularly stormy day on Kamino when the ocean looked like it might come through the window of their room.

Tech had inked the Mando’a for brother, ‘Vod’, while scrolling his datapad. Hunter had watched nervously as he waived the gun around wildly while info dumping to the rest of them.

Wrecker hated needles and had a hard enough time being in the room while the tattoo was being done but he had inked a small aurebesh number four just so Hunter could complete the set.

The most recent one he got, before now, was a small Omega symbol on his wrist. He’d gotten it in a dingy underground parlor during a particularly tricky mission while looking for intel on the Pikes. He told Wrecker it was the only way to get the information they needed but he also needed a reminder of what he was fighting for. It was by far his favorite, although he’d never told anyone else that.

The new one, the one Crosshair was painstakingly scratching into his skin on the right side of his chest, was a familiar skull with lightning bolt behind it. Tech had designed it in their cadet days. He drew it everywhere; it was repeated on the back wall of his bunk on Kamino.  He had scratched it into the side of his data pad and carefully painted it onto his customized helmet for their first mission.

Hunter was sure Tech would call him sentimental, or at least think it. But it was a way for him to keep his fallen brother close. It would be a reminder every time he got dressed in the morning.  A reminder of what this life on Pabu had cost.

“Did you tell her about windsurfing on the Keeradaks on Skako?” Crosshair asked Hunter, throwing an amused look at Omega.

Hunter laughed, “I’d forgotten about that,” he said.

“Tech didn’t, he was cursing the entire trip to retrieve you,”

“Really?” Hunter said, surprised.

Wrecker laughed, “yeah, said you’d dropped your only braincell during that trip.

They all laughed, that kind of laughter that filled a room. It was boisterous, childish laughter, the kind that only siblings could share. Except, there was one missing. The realization seemed to hit them all at once and the joy was sucked out of the air.

Crosshair finished up the last section of the lightning bolt. He pulled back, cocking his head to the side to take in his work. Hunter looked down. The lines weren’t as straight as they could have been. Crosshair was still getting used to his prosthetic hand, but his painting had come such a long way that Hunter thought his brother was ready to get back to his first love. He had loved tattooing so much he’d even help the Regs out on occasion when they were on Kamino. It had taken some convincing but after a few weeks of Hunter’s unwavering confidence in his abilities, it finally seemed to take hold.

As he checked his new ink out in the mirror, Hunter noticed a slight tremor in Crosshair’s prosthetic hand. He narrowed his eyes in concern but said nothing.

“Omega said you went to Kashyyyk,” he said quietly.

Hunter traded looks with Wrecker who was now bench pressing Gonky in the corner. Omega looked at Hunter in concern.

“Ah, yeah. We did. Found a young Wookie. A jedi, actually…we…ah…took him home.”

“I always liked Kashyyyk,” Crosshair said, looking at anywhere but directly at Hunter. “It was our first mission.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, sitting on the couch closer to his brother and resting his hand on his shoulder. “We’ll go back again, someday.” He added reassuringly. He had expected Crosshair to shrug off his hand like he often did. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, at least, he didn’t used to be. But they sat there for a few moments in silence.

“I missed a lot.” Crosshair said, his voice low and gravely.

Hunter, Wrecker and Omega traded glances again. The warmth and joy that had been on his face earlier had disappeared, replaced with a grimace. The ever-present toothpick in his mouth left an indent in his lip as he pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“But you’re here now,” Omega said reassuringly getting up and giving him a hug.

Crosshair raised his eyes and gave her a halfhearted smile.

“Are you ready for yours?” Hunter asked Crosshair, trying to change the subject.

“That depends, have you gotten any better since the last one?”

Hunter laughed, “probably not. But unless you want Wrecker to have a go, I’m your best bet.”

“I’ll do it,” Omega said hopefully.

“No,” Hunter and Crosshair replied in unison. Omega sighed and rolled her eyes.

Crosshair sighed dramatically and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, “fine.” He sat down on the floor, right forearm stretched out over the coffee table.

Hunter was taken aback. Crosshair wanted the tattoo near the stump where his right hand should be. He gave a questioning look to Wrecker who just shrugged.

“Are you sure that’s where you want it?” He asked in a would-be casual tone.

Crosshairs eyes narrowed, “Yes. I have to look at it every day anyway. Might as well put something there I wanna see.”

The answer satisfied Hunter. He shrugged and set about cleaning and setting up the new equipment. It had been a long time since he had done this.

They spent the afternoon huddled in the common room, regaling Omega with stories of old missions, laughing, teasing each other and sometimes sitting in silence except for the buzzing of the tattoo gun. The vibration in his hand tickled his senses and Hunter had to pause often to flex his fingers. Hunter was satisfied with how the skull and lightning bold looked, given his lack of experience, but Crosshair’s was definitely better.

The sun was starting to set outside. The amber glow of Pabu’s evening light display would spring to life any minute.

“What about it, Wrecker?” Hunter asked.

“Oh, ah…yeah, okay,”

“Really?” Hunter asked, surprised, “you really don’t have to.”

Wrecker had been scared of needles since he was a cadet. No real surprise given the amount of testing he and his brothers had to endure.

“No, I want to. I mean, I don’t, but Tech would do the same for me,”

He and Crosshair shared a look but set about making it happen. Wrecker sat on the couch as Crosshair worked on a small version of Tech’s design on his bicep. Hunter and Omega tried to keep Wrecker distracted. He would occasionally wince, but Omega would hold his hand or offer him a snack and his face would soften.

By the time Wrecker’s was done it was completely dark outside. They set about cleaning up, getting things tidied up and dinner on the go. Wrecker took lead on the latter.

“Hunter?” Omega asked quietly, “can I get that tattoo?”

Hunter had been afraid of this. Omega wanted nothing but to copy her brothers, it was no surprise she wanted a tattoo like them as well.

“Ah, you know kid…” he looked at her big brown eyes, hair flopping over her forehead and cascading down her back. “I think you’re a little young…”

“I’m older than all of you,” she said, hand on her hips, a confident grin on her lips.

Hunter looked over at Crosshair for support. He just shrugged. Hunter knew how much Tech meant to her and how affected she was by his death. He paused for a moment and ran his hands through his hair.

“You know what kid, you’re right. Sure. What were you thinking?”

Omega jumped up and down with glee and Hunter’s heart felt like it was going to burst. He really would do anything for this girl.

The sun had completely set by the time it was done. The skin on her wrist was red except for the heavy black ink. A skull with a lightning bolt behind it. Just like her brothers.

[societyfolklore]

Synthetic Obedience

Title:  Synthetic Obedience

Pairing: Dark!Tony Stark x Lab assistant! Female Reader  

Summary:  When Tony Stark personally selects you for a nanotech interface trial, it feels like your big break. But the tech isn’t what it seems.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, DubCon/NonCon/Mind Control, Bimbofication/Mental Reprogramming, Dehumanization, Objectification, Use of Technology for Control, Orgasm Control/Forced Arousal, Derogatory Language, Praise-Degradation Kink, Lab Setting

A/N: Entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo. Also my first Tony centered Fic.. Square: B3- Made a Slave    Card Number: AA014

You didn’t quite know exactly how it happened. But you remembered how it started.

You’d been a TA at MIT, buried in research papers, grading problem sets, and trying to scrape together time for your own side project- a low-energy neural link interface. It wasn’t groundbreaking by Stark standards, but it had promise. You weren’t even done refining it when you got the call.

You couldn’t believe your luck when Stark Industries reached out to you. You didn’t think lab techs got headhunted. Interns, maybe. Engineers with big-name patents? Sure. But you were still early in your career, working under professors who didn’t even bother to learn your name. And yet here you were, walking into the R&D division of the most advanced tech company on the planet, credentials in hand, heartbeat in your throat.

They said they liked your research. Said Tony had seen the write-up himself.

You thought it had to be a mistake. But it wasn’t.

Iron Man, Tony Stark. You got giddy thinking about it. 

You were sweet, eager to please, and more than a little nervous around Tony Stark...

You were sweet, eager to please, and more than a little nervous around Tony Stark. He was larger than life, brilliant, untouchable, he carried himself like he owned the world, and maybe he did. Still, you worked hard. You stayed late. You double-checked your data, kept your station pristine, made sure you never wasted his time. You barely spoke unless spoken to. But you listened. Oh, you always listened. And when he did speak to you- when he called you by name, it made your stomach flutter.

What you hadn’t expected, though, was how present he was. Tony Stark didn’t just pop in and out of the lab. He hovered. He asked questions. He leaned over your shoulder to see your readouts, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body behind you. Sometimes, when he reached around you to adjust a setting, his arm would brush your side, his hand steady on your back. It wasn’t inappropriate, never obviously so, but it lingered just a breath longer than it needed to.

“You’ve got good instincts,” he murmured once, low and warm against your ear as he looked over your data pad with you. “Don’t be afraid to trust them.”

You nodded too quickly, flushed to your ears, and he chuckled as he walked off.

You had a tiny crush, sure! What junior tech assistant didn’t? But it was harmless. Quiet. He had Pepper, after all. Everyone knew that. Though... you hadn’t seen her around much these days. Still, he’d never look at someone like you. You thought he didn’t notice.

But he was always there. Watching. Smirking. And touching- just enough to make you wonder if maybe he did.

He noticed everything.

He noticed the way your wide eyes followed him when he entered a room. The way you stammered when answering questions. The way you blushed when he looked at you too long. You tried to play it off, keep your head down, but he had this smirk every time, like he knew. Like he enjoyed it.

One afternoon, you were triple-checking a sensor calibration when you heard his voice behind you. "Hey, TA."

You turned too quickly, nearly knocking over a stool. "Y-Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"Tony," he corrected with a grin. "Got a minute? Need a steady set of hands."

"I- I mean, of course. Yes. I’m not doing anything urgent."

He handed you something wrapped in a velvet cloth. When you unwrapped it, you found a sleek silver glove glinting up at you.

"Prototype nanotech interface," he said casually, watching your reaction. "You’re the best candidate we’ve got for a live sync test. Thought you might want to try it out."

Your eyes widened. "Me? Really?"

"You’re smart, focused, and you don’t complain. That’s rare. Plus, I read your MIT paper. Neural sync stabilization through passive microfeedback, right? Sounded hot."

Hot?

You blinked. "Thank you. I- I mean... that’s amazing to hear. I won’t let you down."

He smirked again, but it was softer. "Didn’t think you would. Just slide it on and tell me how it feels. Might tingle."

It was just a glove. Sleek, cool metal. The inner lining was soft, lined with micro-filaments meant to link with your neural patterns. Harmless. Temporary. A basic integration test, you reminded yourself.

You slipped it on, and the moment it activated- a soft pulse, warm and electric. You gasped. It spread fast, licking up your arm and over your collarbone, tendrils of heat sinking into muscle and bone. It didn’t just rest against your skin, it felt like it merged with it. You could feel the micro-filaments slipping in, syncing with every nerve, every breath. Like it belonged there.

You blinked rapidly, lips parting as your body responded to something deep inside. Your breath caught. Your knees weakened slightly, the tingling sensation crawling over your skin and anchoring itself deep in your core.

Tony moved to a nearby console, fingers tapping idly at the interface. He wasn’t in a rush. He didn’t even seem surprised.

“You might feel strange,” he said casually, not looking up. “New tech and all.”

"Something’s... off," you mumbled. 

He tilted his head, watching you with clinical detachment. Not alarmed. Curious.

"Off how?"

You tried to find the words. Tried to ask him to shut it down. But your tongue wouldn’t cooperate. It felt big in your mouth. And then he said, "Calm down, sweetheart," in that smooth, steady voice and you melted. Your spine loosened. Your thighs pressed together, heat blooming between them.

Tony didn’t stop the test.

He just watched.

You lifted your arm, trying to tug the glove loose, but your limbs felt slower. Like resistance had to move through molasses. "It’s doing something- I think it’s-"

“Be a good girl for me and don’t touch the interface,” he said, still offhand, like it was just another lab instruction.

Your hand dropped automatically.

"Yes Sir.."  Why did you voice sound like that? All soft and breathy? 

Your thoughts slowed. Everything felt heavier. Thicker. Like your brain was under water. The edges of your mind felt like they’d been smoothed down, made pliable. A dreamy sort of heat flooded your chest, then lower. Your muscles relaxed even as your nipples hardened beneath your shirt.

You turned to Tony, eyes wide and a little unfocused. He was still typing, but now watching you closely, just beneath his lashes. Studying. Assessing. Smiling?

"Mr Stark, Sir," you murmured, your voice strange in your throat. Soft. Breathy. "Something’s wrong. My brain feels… off."

He looked up briefly, shrugging one shoulder with casual ease. "Yeah, I’m seeing some weird integration feedback. Can’t seem to undo the link just yet."

Your stomach tightened. "Undo the link?"

He waved a hand vaguely, as if brushing off the concern. "New tech, sweetheart. Bugs are normal. I’m working on it. Just be a good girl a little longer. You can do that, right?"

Your knees wobbled. The words hit something deep in your chest and between your thighs. Heat surged again. You shifted your weight, trying to discreetly press your thighs together, but your balance faltered- your limbs too loose, your mind too foggy. You stumbled a step and caught yourself on the bench.

"When can I take it off?" you asked, more desperate than you meant to sound.

Tony turned back to the console, fingers flying as he spoke calmly. "Gotta let the interface finish syncing before I can disconnect it."

That didn’t sound right. Did it? You weren’t sure anymore. Your thoughts felt distant, untrustworthy.

He stepped closer, his voice smoother now, hand brushing your arm. "You’ll have to stay here until we work this out."

You nodded slowly, too fogged to argue.

Then he smiled, said it again

"Good girl."

And you forgot why you ever wanted to take it off.

He stepped beside you, took your wrist gently, and examined the glove.

"Hold still," he said softly, already keying something in near the seam.

There was a flicker of warmth. Then a pulse.

Your skin flushed with heat as the tingling sensation spread through your arm and down your spine. You gasped, a giggle bubbling up before you could stop it as your body shivered with the sudden stimulation.

Tony just watched you.

That small, satisfied smile curved his lips—like he’d just solved a puzzle. Like this was what he had been waiting for. He didn’t talk to you like an assistant anymore. He said your name like it was a command. And every time, it made your breath hitch.

You knew something was wrong. Knew this wasn’t how your mind used to work. You were slower. Softer. Hornier. But it felt good.

It felt right.

You wobbled where you stood, your breath shaky, the heat in your core relentless. You opened your mouth to ask him what was happening again—but before you could, he looked up from the console and said it plainly:

"We need to go downstairs. Can’t have someone else finding you like this." He paused, almost to himself, then added under his breath, "Last thing I need is this getting back to Pepper… she already doesn’t answer my calls as it is.""

Your heart fluttered. Not in fear. In... something else.

You nodded before your brain caught up. "Yes, Sir." 

Tony brought you down to the lower lab.

It was private. Off-grid. The kind of space meant for things no one else was meant to see. The walls were soundproof. The door required a multi-factor biometric scan, and once it hissed shut behind you, the silence was absolute. The lights were dim, casting everything in a sterile blue glow. The air was cool enough to raise goosebumps along your bare arms. There were screens, live feeds, holograms, biometric data. All glowing with soft pulses of information. You barely noticed any of it.

You couldn’t stop staring at Tony. He stood against the console like he had all the time in the world. His sleeves were rolled up, his chest rising and falling slowly, measured. His eyes—those sharp, molten eyes—glinted beneath his lashes, dark and burning, like he knew exactly what you were becoming.

The soft glow of the arc reactor under his shirt pulsed with gentle blue light, drawing your attention like a beacon. He looked unreal in the dim lighting, like a Tech God. A superhero. A saviour. Iron Man.

But more than that… he was your idol.

And someone like him, someone that brilliant, that powerful- deserved to be worshiped.

He lifted his head up from the screen, his eyes possessive and intense.

Like he’d made you. Like he was admiring his favourite creation.

“Strip.”

One word. That was all it took.

Your hands moved before your brain could fully register the command. Fingers found the button at your collarbone. The shirt peeled away, slow and obedient, revealing more and more of your skin. It felt ritualistic. Your breath hitched as the cool air kissed your bare chest. As your nipples forming . Your hands undid the zip on your skirt the fabric slid down your hips and thighs, pooling at your ankles.

You stepped out of it, shoulders back, head high, presenting yourself without hesitation. Your chest rose and fell in shallow, excited breaths. Your skin tingled. Your pussy throbbed.

Tony's gaze was molten.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and you whimpered before you could stop yourself.

It wasn’t just arousal, it was relief. Praise made everything inside you bloom. His voice was a balm, a drug, a trigger. You felt warm all over, thighs trembling slightly as your mind swam in that golden haze.

“You wouldn’t say no to me,” Tony murmured, admiring “You wouldn’t scold me or tell me I’m wrong. You wouldn’t look at me like they do.”

His voice was soft, low, coaxing. Dangerous.

“No lectures. No morality speeches. No guilt trips. Just you, here… being exactly what I need.”

He smiled, dark and indulgent.

“You’re perfect for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

He walked toward you slowly, as though savouring the moment. His fingertips skimmed the underside of your chin, tilting your face up.

���You’re even better than I expected,” he murmured, voice rich and dangerous. “Responsive. Programmable. And fuck—look at you.”

He waved one hand, and the mirrors lit up all around you. High-resolution feeds showed you from every angle—naked, glassy-eyed, legs slick with arousal, lips parted in helpless anticipation. You stared at yourself, not recognizing the woman in the reflection.

You looked empty.

You looked perfect.

His.

“On your knees.”

Your legs buckled with eager obedience. You dropped to the cold floor, spreading your thighs and tilting your chin. You didn’t think. You didn’t question. You just obeyed, body trained to respond to his voice like a switch flipped. You were glowing with the pleasure of submission, back straight, chest pushed forward, knees pressed to the cool lab floor like it was where you were meant to be.

Tony’s hand slid through your hair, twining it slowly around his fingers, caressing like he was enjoying the texture of his creation.

“Such a quick learner,” he purred, voice syrup-slick. “You’re not just some assistant anymore, sweetheart. You’re my project. My new toy. My proof of concept.”

He paused, eyes glittering as he looked down at you. “Look at yourself. God, you don’t even know what you used to be, do you? Just a dripping mess made for my cock.”

The words shouldn’t have thrilled you. They should have scared you. But they didn’t. Your belly clenched with need. Your cunt pulsed. You felt proud. Like you’d done something right. Like you were being rewarded. "Open." 

You opened your mouth, waiting, lips parted and slick with anticipation.

He unzipped his fly slowly, deliberately, watching your eyes track every movement with rapt attention. The sound of the zipper seemed deafening in the quiet room. When he pulled himself free- thick, hard, heavy. You whimpered, breath hitching.

Your lips trembled with hunger. You leaned forward just a fraction, aching for the taste.

He didn’t give you permission to suck. Not yet. “You’re such a good little bot now, aren’t you? Didn’t even need to hack your mind to much. This is why it had to be you, you wanted this, wanted me.”

He stroked the head of his cock across your cheek, smearing precum along your flushed skin, then trailed it down to your lips. You leaned into it like a kitten desperate for milk.

“That smart little brain of yours is so quiet now,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. “Bet you can’t even remember the periodic table, can you?”

You couldn’t.

You didn’t care.

Not when he finally pushed past your lips, groaning as your mouth enveloped him. You sucked greedily, needily, cheeks hollowing, tongue stroking with practiced desperation. You didn’t have technique anymore, you had instinct. You had hunger. Your thoughts melted into the rhythm, your brain buzzing with the echo of his praise. Each thrust hit something primal, and you moaned around him, the sound muffled but needy, wet.

"Fuck, look at you," Tony groaned, hips rolling with steady precision. "Those empty pretty eyes."

He held your head in place, fingers curled tightly in your hair, guiding you like he was syncing you to his rhythm. "Tighten your lips."

You obeyed instantly, your jaw aching as you clamped down a little harder. He hissed in pleasure.

"Good. Now use your tongue more. Yeah-just like that," he grunted, pushing deeper. "Gonna use that perfect little mouth and throat."

He was rough, unyielding, fucking your mouth like he had every right to, because he did. You were his. Not just body- but thoughts, actions, reactions. Every nerve was tuned to him. Programmed for him.

"You were built for this," he growled. "Good fucking toy."

Spit dripped down your chin as your eyes teared up. But you never stopped. You couldn’t. Every time he said good girl, your pussy clenched. You wanted more. Wanted everything.

When he finally pulled you up, his cock wet and shining from your lips, your legs wobbled. His chest was heaving, eyes locked on your messy, flushed face. He didn’t pause.

“On the table,” he panted, voice rough and commanding.

You stumbled backward, climbing up, limbs trembling as you spread your legs without needing to be told. You were so wet, it was obscene.

And then he slammed into you.

You screamed.

"Fuck, yeah- that’s it," Tony growled. "Open for me. You love this, don’t you? Being my little toy. My empty little slut."

Your entire body bowed off the table, crying out his name- Tony, Sir, God, anything he wanted, as he drove into you again and again. There was no space to think. No room for resistance. Just the endless pulse of need and the way he filled you so perfectly.

And the nanotech responded to everything.

With each thrust, the sensations sharpened, your nerve endings sparked with pleasure that felt engineered, enhanced, manipulated until every brush of skin against skin sent fire through your blood. Your clit pulsed with synced stimulation, your inner walls tightening in perfect sync with his rhythm, the tech ensuring you felt every inch of him with near-electric clarity.

You were his invention in more ways than one.

He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "Tighten around me, baby. You can do it. Just like I programmed you to, squeeze."

"Yes, Sir," you whimpered, obedient even through the haze.

"Good girl. You’re perfect. My fuckdoll. My living, breathing cumdump."

You keened at the praise, back arching, body pulsing around him as the nanotech triggered another wave- an artificial aftershock that left you whimpering, overstimulated and desperate.

He knew exactly what to say. What to program into you. When he told you to come, your body obeyed like a triggered code, the tech sending a pulse to your core that shattered you. You sobbed with the intensity, thighs trembling, toes curling as your cunt clenched tight around him.

"That’s it- squeeze me just like that. Take it. Take all of it."

And he didn’t stop.

Not until he’d filled you to the brim with every drop of him. The tech pulsed once more, almost like it was sealing him inside you.

When it was over, he eased out of you slowly, your pussy fluttering around the absence. He ran his fingers through your sweat-dampened hair as you blinked up at him, dazed and smiling.

He murmured it again, soft and low-"Good girl."

Then his hand curled possessively around your cheek, thumb smearing your tears. “No one else will ever have you,” he whispered, his voice like velvet over steel. “You’re mine. My best creation.”

You smiled wider, blissed-out and pliant, the tech rewarding you with a small, sweet pulse through your spine.

Tony straightened, chest still heaving, and glanced toward the screen. “FRIDAY,” he said, voice sharper now. “Log current test session. Neural response, pelvic pulse sync, submissive compliance—mark it all as successful iterations. Make note Gonna tweak the pleasure threshold for next time.”

“Confirmed,” FRIDAY replied coolly. "Logged. Would you like me to auto-clean her next time too, sir?"

He looked back down at you. You were still lying on the table, your skin sticky with sweat and cum, your legs parted, your body twitching softly as another subtle vibration ran through the glove’s nanotech interface- teasing, gentle, but constant.

You whimpered as he placed your hand over your pussy. 

“After you run full diagnostic.” Tony added, his tone now entirely clinical. “And initiate standby mode in maybe an hour. I'm going upstairs, I’ve got a board meeting in twenty.”

“Yes, sir.” 

The nanotech pulsed again- this time with rhythmic intent, like a low thrum running straight through your nerves. You let out another soft, breathy moan, helpless against the pleasure still drumming through your system.

Tony smirked. “Try not to make too much of a mess while I’m gone, sweetheart.”

And then he walked out, leaving you pulsing and twitching quietly on the table, nothing more than his perfect little invention- waiting for his return.