#the dark side fic

[mandos-mind-trick]

Heat of the Moment

Summary: It was supposed to be an easy mission, just a simple insurrection on a primitive planet. Nothing ever goes as planned, and Clone Force 99's civilian member finds herself in a sticky situation.

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: Sex pollen, medical inaccuracies, dub-con because sex pollen, hidden feelings, ROUGH sex, angst, biting, scratching, brief mentions of blood, excessive use of the word pussy, manhandling, injuries, confession of feelings, oral, smelling, unprotected sex, creampies galore, it's really rough guys please use caution

A/N: All hail the mighty sex pollen trope. I am here with another sex pollen fic that sort of got away from me. I didn't plan on it being this long but I have been rather long winded recently. Please heed the warnings since this is pretty intense and rough and yeah. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

It happens suddenly. 

You’re crouched behind a rock, taking cover as you fire at droids. It was nothing more than an insurrection on a relatively primordial planet. Squashing insurrections was becoming your specialty. 

You were entirely focused on taking out droids when you felt the sudden prick on your neck. It was hardly more than a sting, like that of a bug, but enough to draw your attention from the fight. You reach up, fingers meeting something soft like feathers. You tug on it, feeling a small pinch as it’s tugged from your skin. You lean against the rock you had been taking cover behind, staring down at the brightly colored dart resting in your palm. 

Someone shot you with a dart. Your eyes scan the trees, looking for any sign of who could have shot you, but there’s nothing. No sign of anyone. 

Your arm flies up out of instinct, covering your face as sparks erupt right over your head. A droid falls at your side with a clang, Hunter sheathing his knife. You blink up at him, suddenly remembering you’re in the middle of a fight. You feel a bit like your brain is moving in slow motion, your fingers beginning to tingle. 

You blink as Hunter squats down next to you. He’s been speaking to you, but you haven’t been listening. His fingers close around yours, pulling your hand closer to him. His hands are warm, practically pulsing against your tingling fingertips. You’re still holding the dart in your palm, the bright plumage a stark contrast to your black glove. 

“Did this hit you?” He asks, taking the dart from your hand. 

You nod slowly, forcing your mouth closed. You hadn’t even realized it was hanging open. 

“Tech, do you know what it is?” Hunter asks, handing the dart off to Tech. 

You turn to look up at Tech. When had he arrived? You glance around, the other three standing around you. Was the fight over? When had they gotten here? 

Tech lowers his visor, studying the dart. “It will be difficult to discern.” He says, turning the dart in his hands. “There is not much knowledge on the inhabitants of this planet, or its native flora. I will have to do further testing to be certain.” Tech pockets the dart before kneeling down in front of you. “Are you experiencing any symptoms?” 

You stare at the visor, looking past it to his eyes. Gloved hands cup your face, tugging lightly at the skin below your eyes. You flinch under the touch, your skin tingling under the rough fabric of his gloves. 

“Slight dilation of the pupils. Body temperature is just higher than normal.” Tech says, studying your face. 

“‘M fine.” You murmur, suddenly snapping to the present. 

“Delayed cognitive processing.” Tech pulls away from you, your skin itching where his hands had been. “That could be concerning.” 

Hunter pushes himself to stand and you use the rock behind you to help get your feet under you. Your legs are twitching, feeling a bit like jelly as you attempt to steady yourself. “Tech, Echo, take her back to the ship. See if you can figure out what was on that dart. The rest of us will scan the area. Whoever shot her couldn’t have gotten far on foot.” 

You push yourself off the rock, wavering for just a moment before you steady yourself. It feels as if you’re moving in slow motion, each step taking every ounce of effort to move your feet forward. 

The trek back to the Marauder is slow going. 

Tech’s fingers are moving at light speed on his datapad, head down as you follow the trail back to the Marauder. Echo walks next to you, watching you cautiously. You’ve broken out in a sweat, your blacks sticking to your back under your light armor. It’s uncomfortable, the fabric almost unbearable as it chafes your skin. You’re not sure if it’s the heat blooming under your skin, or the unbearable feeling of the fabric, but you want to pull your clothes off. 

You stumble to a stop as Echo grabs your arm. You had been undoing the clasps of your armor without even realizing it. You frown, dragging a hand across your forehead to wipe the sweat off. “‘M hot.” You murmur. 

“We’ll never make it at this speed.” Echo says. “She’s going to drop before we even get there.” 

Tech pockets his datapad and suddenly your world is spinning. You nearly black out at the sudden movement, your head falling limply against a plastoid-covered shoulder. 

“Her temperature has spiked.” His voice rumbles through his chest, vibrating against your side. “The sooner we can reach the Marauder, the sooner we can combat her symptoms.” 

The world sways as Tech carries you back to the Marauder. The trip takes half the time it would have had you still been walking. Echo had been right, you likely wouldn’t have made it. You’re hot and exhausted even being carried. 

The air doesn’t feel any cooler in the Marauder as Tech sits you in a chair. Your head is swimming, fingers fumbling to remove your armor. You can’t stand it. It’s heavy and it’s pressing your blacks tighter against your skin. Echo helps you remove each piece, setting it out of the way as he runs a scan. Tech works on scanning the dart, trying to figure out what it was coated with to see how best to help you. 

Echo straps a monitor to your arm, your vision still swimming as you try to focus on his helmet. You still feel like the world is moving in slow motion, even just lifting your hand feels like it’s taking every ounce of effort. 

“Hmm,” Tech hums, staring at the screen. “There’s no record of any of the compounds pulled from the dart. I’ll need to run a further analysis to see if I can break down their individual components.” 

“Well, whatever you have to do, do it fast.” Echo says. “Her heart rate is spiking again.” 

Tech turns to look at you, adjusting his goggles. “We may need to consider a medical center. They will have the resources to keep her stable.” 

You swallow thickly. Even in your half delirious state, you know that what Tech is suggesting isn’t coming lightly. You could deteriorate faster than he can figure out what was unwittingly injected into your body. And if there was no cure...a medical center would be better prepared to search for one and keep you alive while they did it. 

Heat begins blooming under your skin once more as you sit and wait, your vision swimming. The monitor on your arm begins to beep rapidly, your hands and feet starting to tingle. You feel a bit like you’re floating, like your brain is leaving your body behind. 

“...get back to the ship...condition deteriorating...” Tech’s voice fades into the background, your eyes fluttering shut. 

***

There’s a hand on your face when you snap back into reality. The sweat sliding down your temples is uncomfortable, practically burning your skin. The rough fabric of the glove is too much and not enough at the same time. You blink up at the helmet hovering in front of your face. 

“...bacta’s working...waking up...” 

The voices float in and out around you. You feel hot, hotter than you had been when you passed out. Your blacks are almost unbearable, between the heat trapped under them from your skin and the intense sensation of the fabric against your skin, you’re ready to strip down right there. 

Hands grasp yours, stilling their movements. 

You had been pulling your blacks off, the top half undone and untucked from the bottoms. You weakly try to pull your hands free, but Hunter’s grip on you is tight. He’s breathing heavily, the sound of his breaths just barely audible through his helmet. You can feel the subtle vibration in the seat under you as the Marauder hurtles through hyperspace. 

“‘M hot.” You whine, still trying to fight Hunter’s grasp on you. 

“I know.” He says, voice raspy through his helmet. “Your fever’s going down.” He slowly releases your hands and they fall limply to your sides again. He turns away from you to face Tech at the other console. “Are you any closer?” His tone is sharp, shoulders tense. Even in your delirious state you can tell he’s on edge. 

You’ve spent a lot of time staring at Hunter. You could read him like a novel, far better than you could read the others. He had been one of the most welcoming of the group when you had been forced to join, though finding your place among them had taken some time. They’ve been together their whole lives and suddenly someone else is being thrown into the mix, a nat-born and a woman to boot. You had spent a lot of time studying him, watching him even when you weren’t in the middle of a battle. How easily he moves, how graceful he is, how aware of everything he is. The dexterity of his fingers and how easily he can wield a knife. 

You may have developed some feelings for your Sergeant, but you would never admit it. He’s never shown any interest in that at all, so you would hold your peace. You’d suffer in silence, stuck doing nothing but fantasizing when everyone else was asleep. 

A wave of heat burns through your body, making you wince. You’re uncomfortable, a cramping sensation beginning in your lower abdomen. You wince, hissing out a breath as you curl in on yourself. 

“You alright?” Echo asks, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hurts.” You gasp out, tensing your whole body as you wait for the cramping to stop. 

Sweat is pooling in your underwear and between your legs, the fabric of your blacks beginning to chafe uncomfortably. You desperately want to be naked. Anything to relieve some of the sensation. 

You let out a shaky breath as the sensation begins to subside, but now there’s a slight pulsing between your legs. 

“You’re developing new symptoms.” Tech says, staring at you. “What did it feel like?” 

“Cramping.” You say, pushing your hands into the spot right above your pelvis where you had felt it. “Here.” 

Tech stares at you contemplatively for a moment before he spins back around to the console, typing away rapidly. 

You shift in your seat, gasping quietly as your thighs press together. Your pussy is throbbing, underwear no longer damp from just sweat anymore. You should tell Tech about this development as well, but you’re afraid to. How do you bring something like that up to someone who was essentially your coworker, much less in a room full of your other coworkers? 

Oh yeah, by the way, I’m also feeling very horny. That wouldn’t be an awkward conversation at all. 

Your blacks continue to chafe your skin, sticking in sweaty places and rubbing others. You can’t stand it. It’s all too much, every sensation against your body too much. “Kriff it.” You breathe, tugging the top of your blacks off. “I can’t.” 

The soaked fabric hits the floor with a plop, leaving you in nothing but your breastband. Echo quickly straightens up, turning his gaze to the back of the ship. Wrecker clears his throat, turning his back to you very quickly. You’ve all seen each other in various states of undress before. It wasn’t like this was that kind of situation. You were potentially dying. 

If you’re going to die, you’re going to do it comfortably, even if that comes at the expense of your poor squadmates. 

Even your breastband is almost too much, nipples hard and poking at the thick fabric. Every breath is like torture, every small sensation only adding to the throbbing between your legs. Even the vibration of the seat, something you normally didn’t even notice, is almost too much. 

“Kriff,” Hunter breathes, popping his helmet off. His forehead is beading with sweat under the bandana, strands of hair sticking to his face and neck. 

“You alright, Hunter?” Wrecker asks, watching his sergeant with rapt attention. Everyone is staring at him now, not just you. 

“No!” He snaps, his helmet hitting the floor with a clang. “I can smell it! I can smell her!” He points at you. 

The entire ship falls silent, no one moving for a moment. You hadn’t even thought about the fact Hunter could probably smell you. He’d likely known before you had how aroused you were becoming. The thought has your face flushing. You’d pictured him many times burying his face in your pussy, breathing in your scent from its source, praising you on how good you smell, how good you taste. 

The thoughts have your pussy throbbing even more. 

Tech stands from the console, turning to Echo, speaking quietly despite the fact Hunter could still hear him. “Take her into the cockpit and seal the door. Don’t open it, no matter what you hear.” 

Echo nods, scooping you into his arms before carrying you into the cockpit. His scomp is cold against your back, but it feels good, like a brief respite from the fire burning beneath your skin. He sits you down in the copilot’s seat before he locks the door, sealing you off from the others. 

He takes a seat in the pilot’s chair, checking the navigation. You’re still a few hours out from the nearest medical center. 

Are you going to make it that long? 

“I have a theory.” Tech’s voice comes through the comm, drawing your attention from your thoughts. “I’ve managed to identify one of the chemical agents found on the dart. The others are a mix of pollen from plants native to the planet. It appears to be causing an excessive release of estrogen from the hypothalamus.” 

“What does that mean?” Hunter’s voice is faint through the comms, but you can still hear the strain in it. 

“She’s experiencing a state of hyper-arousal. As more and more estrogen is released, her state of arousal continues to increase. That is why her heart rate and temperature continue to spike, and why she is in such a state of discomfort.” Tech states, far too calmly for the situation. 

“What do we do?” Wrecker asks. 

“She will die, if the effects are not reversed. She will suffer brain damage if her body temperature continues to rise, and the prolonged tachycardia will cause heart failure.” Tech says. 

You gulp, your skin starting to prickle. So you are dying. Dying from horniness. 

“Bacta will not work, so long as her hypothalamus is in a state of dysfunction. It can lessen the fever and help slow her heart rate, but it will only be effective for so long.” Tech continues. “There is no known remedy, since this compound has been entirely unknown to science until now.”

“Why would they do this?” Hunter asks, his voice louder. You can hear the agitation in his tone. “Why would they give her something like this?” 

“I am uncertain.” Tech answers. “A possible explanation is this is a common aphrodisiac used for mating purposes. The natives of the planet may be more tolerant to the compound. Perhaps they were unwelcoming of both us and the droids and this was their only means of protecting themselves.” 

“And she’s the easiest target since she doesn’t wear a helmet.” Crosshair says.  

“Precisely.” Tech says. “It also explains why you are being affected as well. Beyond being able to sense her arousal, it is likely the compound is causing her to release a pheromone that is too faint for us to sense. But for someone with heightened senses...” 

“Kriff.” Hunter curses, his voice sounding strained. “What do we do? How do we fix it?” 

“It is possible a release of other chemicals may slow the hypothalamus’ excretion of estrogen enough to stave off the symptoms until we can reach a medical center.” Tech says. 

“How do we do that?” Hunter asks. 

“An orgasm would be the simplest way.” Tech answers. 

Your cheeks burn again. Hearing Tech speak so lewdly is strange to you. None of them had ever even made jokes, much less shown any interest. It had been jarring compared to other similar situations you’ve been in. Five men alone on a ship with one woman and not even one whistle or comment or passing of the hand. 

“Kriff it.” You breathe, tugging your pants off. Echo quickly focuses his gaze out the viewport as you stand, moving to the back of the cockpit. “Just...don’t turn around.” You say, laying yourself out on the floor. 

The metal is cold against your skin, offering a respite to the heat for a moment. You slip a hand in your underwear, peeling it from your soaked pussy. You sigh quietly as you pass your fingers over your clit, toes curling in response to finally giving your desperate pussy some attention. 

You bite your lip to keep quiet for Echo’s sake as you slowly work yourself up. Your legs start to shake, that cramping feeling starting to build in your stomach once more and you huff out a sigh. You withdraw your hand as the pleasure fades, taken over by the intense cramping. Fluid soaks your panties as your pussy begins to throb even more. You force a hand under the fabric once more, desperately rubbing at your clit but you can’t quite reach the peak. No matter how badly your pussy throbs for attention, you cannot bring yourself to cum.

You huff out another sigh, pushing yourself to stand. There’s a wet spot on the floor in the shape of your body, but you don’t give it a second glance. You’re so far past modesty at this point. You lean over Echo, hitting the button for the comms. 

“It’s not working.” Your voice has a bite to it, not unlike Hunter’s had. “I can’t...finish.” 

“Hunter has been unsuccessful as well.” Tech says. 

A thought crosses your mind. Heat pools in your stomach, another cramp starting to form. Your skin tingles, heat radiating from you so hot you’re sure Echo can feel it. You feel dizzy, the exertion of trying to make yourself cum hitting you suddenly and your knees buckle. You sink to the floor, curling in on yourself. Your heart is pounding in your chest, terrifying you that it might stop at any moment. 

“Let him fuck me.” You murmur, breathing through the intense cramping and the throbbing in your pussy. 

“What?” Echo glances down at you. 

“Let him fuck me!” You cry, looking up at him with teary eyes. “It’s the only way we can both get help right now. Tech said it’s probably used for mating. I don’t think we can fix it any other way.” 

The ship is silent except for the quiet hum of the engine. Tears of exhaustion and pain blur your vision. You’re desperate, legs shaking from the intense throbbing of your pussy and the cramping in your stomach. You just want to feel normal again. 

“Mesh’la.” Hunter’s deep voice crackles through the comms. He’s called you that before a couple times. You don’t know what it means. None of them will tell you. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“I’m already hurting.” You sob, tears burning as they slide down your cheeks. “Kriff, it hurts so much!” Your sob cuts off in a cry as another wave of heat and pain rolls through your body. “Please, Hunter. I don’t want to die.” 

The comms pick up quiet cursing and shuffling on the other side before they go quiet. You push yourself to stand, using the chairs and the wall for support as you move to the door, unlocking the cockpit. You step out on shaky legs, beads of arousal sliding down the insides of your thighs, mixing with the sweat. Wrecker, Crosshair, and Tech file silently into the cockpit, the door sliding closed behind you. 

You’re left standing alone, Hunter on the opposite end of the ship. He’s ditched his armor leaving him in nothing but his blacks, the bottoms half hanging open. His shoulders are tense and squared, brows furrowed as he stares at you. 

“Hunter,” Your voice wavers, tears still pricking your vision. “I need you to know something before we do this.” 

This isn't how you wanted to tell him, how you wanted this to play out. You wanted him to come to you, to admit any feelings he might have, even if they’re just lust. You would never force yourself on him, reveal feelings you weren’t sure would be reciprocated. You would suffer in silence if it meant keeping the integrity of the team intact. 

His hands curl into fists as you take a step closer, nostrils flaring. You can only imagine what you smell like to him right now. He’s not in his right mind. He would have avoided your gaze, averted his from your almost naked body. Instead his eyes trail your form, watching one of the beads of arousal or sweat slide down to your knee. 

“I’ve had feelings for you for a while now.” You continue, ignoring the way his gaze starts to turn almost predatory, his eyes going almost black. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know if you felt the same way. I didn’t want things to end up being awkward.” You sniffle, continuing to approach him slowly. “I didn’t want it to happen like this.” 

“Kriff, mesh’la.” He breathes, staring at you. He takes a deep breath, eyes screwing closed as he practically shudders. “I know. I’ve known for a while. Your heart rate...the arousal.” He swallows thickly. “I could sense it all. I-I’m your sergeant. I’m not supposed to take advantage of you like that.” 

“Is it really taking advantage of someone that wants it too?” Your voice shakes, more tears sliding down your cheeks.

Another wave of heat rolls beneath your skin, making you cramp. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart has been pumping. You’re scared. You cry out from the pain, knees buckling as you begin to fall forward.  

You don’t hit the floor. 

Arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against a sturdy chest. A groan rumbles through your body, Hunter’s face pressing into your neck. He inhales deeply, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat-soaked skin. He sighs out a long breath, making you shiver. His hands smooth up your back, his skin bare and rough against yours. 

You let out a whine as he mouths at your throat, legs still shaking. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold out. You’re starting to get dizzy again, the bacta wearing off as your fever comes back full force. 

“Please.” You beg, beginning to go limp against him. “Make it stop. Make it better.” 

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder and you let out a weak whimper at the sensation. “Gonna make you feel good.” He groans, voice rough and strained. He’s suffering almost as much as you are. “Could smell you as soon as I got on board.” 

He guides you onto the floor of the ship, letting you lay there limply. You feel sick again, not unlike how you had felt when you had first been shot with the dart. Your pussy is still throbbing, desperate for any sort of relief, but you’re beginning to feel it in the rest of your body again. You’re afraid. If this doesn't work...you may not come out on the other side. 

Hunter slips his hands around your back, practically ripping your breastband in an attempt to get it off. Your nipples pebble in the cool air in the ship, your breasts feeling heavy. Hunters thumbs tease your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You whimper, the pain beginning to ease as his hands tease you, every touch like electricity on your heated skin. 

He curses, sliding his hands down your sides. You shift your hips what little you can, helping him rid you of your panties. They land with a wet plop somewhere behind you, your legs spreading wide open for him. You’re slick and soaked, your pussy throbbing for him. His hands slide down your thighs, keeping your legs parted so far it’s almost painful but you don’t care. 

He leans down, breath fanning across the damp skin before he presses his face against your pussy, inhaling deeply. He lets go of your thighs, letting them close around his head as he stays there, face buried in your pussy as he breathes you in. You lift your head as much as you can, staring at him as he lays there, eyes closed in bliss. Your cheeks warm, having imagined this moment several times. 

Those fantasies could never compare to it actually happening. 

You let out a quiet sound as his eyes open, boring into yours. His gaze is primal and clouded with lust as he stares at you, shifting his head just enough that he can drag his tongue through your folds. 

Your fingers could never make you feel the way he does, not even when you had tried to get yourself off in the cockpit. You could cry from the pleasure as he drags his tongue through your folds, tasting the wetness your body has been producing in desperate need for someone to touch you. 

It’s obscene the way his tongue parts your lips, dragging from your hole to the top where he flicks it across your clit. You could cum just like this, just from watching him lick you. His gaze stays locked with yours as his hands slip under your ass, lifting your hips just slightly as he lowers his head, tracing your lips with his tongue before he sinks it into your pussy. 

His nose presses against your clit as he thrusts his tongue as deep as he can, your pussy fluttering around him in relief of finally having something inside you. His growl vibrates through your entire body, your hips shifting against his face. You gasp at the sensation of his nose dragging across your clit, shifting your hips again. 

He continues to fuck you with his tongue as you ride his face, your upper body falling limp against the floor. It’s not enough, not nearly enough to make you cum, but it’s the best you’ve felt since you got hit with the dart. 

“Please, Hunter.” You beg, continuing to grind desperately on his face. “Please, I need you inside me.” 

He groans, lifting his face from your pussy. It’s shining with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Taste so good.” His voice is deep and rough from his own need. “Such a sweet little pussy.” 

Your fingers pluck at your nipples as he strips out of his blacks, desperate to keep any sort of sensation going to abate the pain you know is waiting if you stop. You stare unabashedly at his hard cock as it's revealed to you. He’s not very long, but what he lacks in length, he makes up for in girth. You lick your lips, legs splaying open in invitation. 

You need him inside you now. 

He slides back in between your legs, meeting no resistance as he slides into you. You’ve been waiting for this moment, desperate for it for so long now. He folds his body over yours as he fills your needy pussy, the sensation of his sweaty skin against yours too much and not enough at the same time. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, so tight there’s almost no space between your bodies. You want to devour him, to pull him completely inside you so you’re one being. 

Your mind feels hazy as he begins to move, fucking into you with short, sharp thrusts. He buries his face in your neck as he fucks you, teeth sinking into your skin. It’s animalistic, the sounds he’s making, the wild way he’s fucking into you. You can do nothing but wrap yourself around him and hold on, letting him take what he needs from you, letting him ease the ache within you. 

Your vision nearly goes white as you’re thrown into your first orgasm, walls clamping down so tightly around him his rhythm stutters, cock pulsing inside you as you spasm around him. Your nails dig into his skin, drawing blood as white hot pleasure burns through you. 

It burns hotter than the fever that had been plaguing you, hotter than the drug could ever make you feel. You can’t feel anything but him for a moment, tears leaking out of your eyes as you ride out your first high.

He’s staring down at you, a rivulet of blood trailing down his chin as your vision begins to clear. There’s blood dripping from his sides, mixing with the sweat on your skin from where your nails had ripped at his skin. Despite your blinding orgasm, your pussy is still throbbing, the heat beneath your skin still burning hot. 

You’re nowhere near done. 

Hunter sits up and grabs your hips, flipping you onto your stomach. You hit the floor with a thud, narrowly missing smashing your face into the hard metal. He forces your hips up, shaky legs keeping your ass raised for him. He kneels behind you, dragging his cock through your messy pussy before he’s sinking back in, filling your desperate cunt once more. 

It truly feels animalistic now, forced into such a primal position, unable to do anything but hold yourself up as he relentlessly fucks into you. His hands are bruising at your hips, blunt nails biting into your skin. He curses, tightening his grip until it’s almost painful as he stills, cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his cum. 

You moan from the sensation of being filled with him, eyes rolling back as your own orgasm ripples through you. He’s still hard inside you, even as the last spurts of him hit your walls. 

This is far from over. 

Hunter keeps you in this position, picking up his pace once more. He can do nothing but grunt and growl as he fucks into you, nothing but whimpers and whines leaving your throat as he drags orgasm after orgasm from you, filling you over and over with his seed. 

Your knees begin to ache, sensations coming back to you as he releases your hips, tangling a hand in your hair instead. Your body drops, his following as he pins you to the floor, holding you in place as he seeks one last orgasm. There’s a pool of drool under your cheek, the floor a mess of blood and cum and sweat. 

His hand tightens in your hair painfully, gripping onto you as he cums one last time, forcing your body into one more orgasm with him. You both lay there panting, the heat under your skin beginning to fade. The hand in your hair begins to loosen until it’s sliding out, planting itself next to your head. 

“Hunter?” You whisper, voice cracking and rough. 

He’s breathing heavily, still inside you, still trapping you against the floor. “Mesh’la.” His voice cracks, heavy with emotion. 

You grab his wrist before he can pull away, shifting your hips until he slips out of you. You wince at the sensation, pussy sore from the pounding it had just taken. You feel weak and sore, limbs shaking as you roll yourself over onto your back so you can stare up at him. 

You can see it in his face, the reality beginning to set in, the gravity of the situation hitting him. You’re both a mess of blood and bruises and fluids. You try not to look down, try to keep your focus on his face, and his focus on yours. 

You lift shaking hands to his cheeks, his bandana somewhere on the floor beside you. You brush his hair from his face, the strands soaked with sweat. “One more time.” You whisper, tracing the skull tattoo. “One more time.” 

You can’t explain it, can’t give a reason but you don’t need to. He reaches down, jerking his cock a couple of times before he sinks back into you. You close your eyes, your face pinching a bit at the soreness. You’re not going to be able to walk or sit comfortably for a few days. You’re not likely to forget this. 

He stays still as he seats himself inside you, allowing his body to press against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him against you as he buries his face in your shoulder. You hold him as he begins to move, slow and deep, a contrast to what he had just done to your body. 

Your toes curl as raw pleasure burns through you, not like it had before, not brought on by the drug in your system. The heat that blossoms under your skin feels natural, feels normal. How it should feel. You pull his face from your shoulder, keeping his eyes on you as he fucks into you. Despite the discomfort, despite the pain, despite the ache deep in your bones you can feel the heat blooming in your stomach. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, his head lowering towards your face. 

For a moment you think he might kiss you but he doesn’t, letting his forehead rest against yours. You close your eyes, basking in the pleasure, basking in the feeling of him inside you, really inside you. Not the desperation you had been feeling, the need for him to utterly destroy you to keep you from dying. 

Just for a moment you can imagine what it would be like if he were yours. If you had been brave enough to tell him before. If your fantasies were more than just fantasies. 

You spasm around him as you cum, holding him tightly against you. He groans your name as he cums, cock twitching weakly inside you. You’re both exhausted, both feeling the effects of the drug wearing off. 

You hold onto him knowing this can’t happen again, knowing you’ll likely be putting in transfer paperwork as soon as you land. Tears prick your vision as you feel yourself fading, body giving out from exhaustion. 

***

It’s too bright when you wake. 

You hate medical centers and their harsh sterile environments. The GAR’s are no better, in fact they might be worse. You’re sticky from dried bacta, something tugging on your arm as you try to move it. Your fingers make out the shape of an IV moments before they’re gently eased away. 

“Don’t go pulling that out now.” A familiar voice says. 

“Wasn’t gonna.” You manage to get out, your tongue feeling swollen and throat dry. Your voice sounds like you’ve swallowed sand, rough and weak. 

You crack your eyes open, squinting against the harsh light of the medical station. The cot you’re on is hard and uncomfortable, and the blanket is scratchy against your sensitive skin. It was like no one cared about the comfort of the clones, even in a vulnerable place such as a medical station. 

You squint up at the reg medic above you, his head bowed as he stares at a datapad. You cast a quick glance around your bed. You’re slightly disappointed to find you’re alone. They’ve probably already left. You’ll be handed a transfer request as soon as you’re sitting up, you’re sure of it. 

You can’t blame them. 

The medic goes through a series of tests, explaining your injuries and what they had found left over in your bloodstream when you’d arrived, and what they had done to fix it. You should be perfectly fine, aside from some lingering soreness that could last as long as a few hours as the bacta finishes working its way through your system. 

You finally get some water and rations, downing almost a whole pitcher. Every time the door opens, you half expect it to be someone in command coming to give you your new orders. You wonder where they’ll put you. On a base somewhere? In with a larger battalion? Or were you going right back to Coruscant where you started? 

A doctor comes in to check you, double checking all your tests and vitals are normal. You withhold details, not sure how much the others had said, if they’d said anything at all. Regardless, you wouldn’t throw them under the bus, even if they did leave you here. 

“Your squad is waiting in the hangar.” The doctor says, signing off on the datapad. “They were banned from the upper levels after they started a fight with a medic who was trying to keep them from following you into the exam room.” 

You stare at the doctor with wide eyes, not expecting that. So they hadn’t left you? They had even started a fight for you? 

“You’re cleared to go.” The doctor says. 

You blink at her for a moment before your mind catches up. You’re still in shock that they want to keep you on the squad, much less that they’d waited for you. You’re surprised the GAR hadn’t sent them on another mission while you were recovering. 

You change into the scratchy clothes the medical station laid out before you before you make your way through the maze to the hangar. You’re nervous on the lift ride down, your stomach churning, threatening to bring back up the rations. You could go straight to command and ask for a transfer yourself. You could ask to never have to see them again, never have to face them after everything. 

But they had waited for you. 

Were they waiting to serve you transfer papers themselves? Pass over your belongings before telling you to get out of their sight? You’re nearly sick as the lift slows to a stop, opening to the hangar. You step off, legs shaking as you scan the ships until you find the Marauder. 

You’ve convinced yourself to turn back around and board the lift when your name is called, loudly, echoing in the hangar. People stop and stare, your cheeks warming in embarrassment. 

Wrecker is waving his arm, towering over the civilians and regs milling about in the hangar. You can’t run for it now. You take a breath, letting it out before you weave through the crowd towards the Marauder. 

You’re scooped off your feet as soon as you’re in sight, joints cracking as Wrecker picks you up in a hug and spins you. You yelp in shock, not expecting such a welcoming response. 

“Easy, Wrecker.” Crosshair says. “You don’t want to send her back to a bacta tank, do you.” 

“Sorry.” Wrecker sets you back on your feet, patting your back a little too hard, nearly knocking the air from your lungs. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” 

“Yes, I read over the doctor’s notes.” Tech says. “I am pleased with the results of your tests.” 

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Good to see you too, Tech.” 

Your body floods with shame as you turn to Echo, remembering what you had put him through in the cockpit in your desperation to end your suffering. 

“Don’t.” He says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You needed to try. I’m just sorry it didn’t work.” 

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Thank you for looking out for me.” 

He squeezes your shoulder again as you glance around. Hunter is nowhere to be found. Your brows pull together in a frown. Was he still being checked out? Did someone spill? Had they figured out what had happened and he was being reprimanded and being sent to be decommissioned. No, that wouldn’t be right. The others wouldn’t be so happy. They likely wouldn’t have let you walk out of there either. 

“He’s on board.” Crosshair says, rolling his eyes. “Wallowing in his own self-made misery.” 

They part the way for you, letting you walk up the steps into the Marauder. It feels different now, after what had happened. It’s been cleaned, likely meticulously by Tech while they waited. It hasn’t smelled this decent probably since it came off the line. 

You walk through the cockpit into the hull. Hunter has his back to you, standing near the gunner’s chair. You approach slowly, knowing he knows you’re there. You can’t hide anything from him. 

“Hunter?” You ask quietly, the others loading up behind you. 

“Was it true?” He asks, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder. “What you said?” 

You know what he’s talking about. You wanted him to know before, while there was still a shred of sanity. You wanted him to know in case he remembered. You didn’t want him to feel guilty. 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yes. All of it.” 

His shoulders slump, his head turning away from you. “It’s frowned upon.” He says. “We’re not supposed to fraternize.” 

“Since when do you follow rules?” You say, voice shaking just a little. 

His back straightens just a little, a laugh huffing from his chest. “You’re right.” 

He turns, crossing the distance between you quickly. He takes you in his arms, pressing his lips against yours. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are soft against yours, teeth nibbling at your lower lip. 

“You could at least wait until we take off.” Crosshair sighs behind you. 

You giggle against Hunter’s lips, his hand lifting from your back for a moment and you can imagine the rude sign he had just flashed at Crosshair. You pull him back to you, pressing your lips against his once more. 

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink

[notdeadjack]

I highly appreciate the "happy ending" tag on angst fics, dark fics, etc. Its existence increases the probability of me reading by a significant amount

but some people are like "why even read those fics if you already know how they're gonna end?"

Well, it's kinda like going on a roller-coaster. I wanna experience the ride. The ups and the downs, the twists and turns. But I also wanna know that at the end, it'll come to a safe stop and I'll be able to get off of it completely unharmed

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

—

Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

—

Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

[nottheeconomy]

So! Guess who decided to write fanfic on a whim for an entirely new fandom this year?

This clown! —>🤡

I would not have envisioned I would be writing for Total Drama in the year of 2024 but life is funny like that! Here’s the doodles I made for chapters 1-3!

[varpusvaras]

As someone who studies natural sciences, I think Coruscant as a planet is very interesting in a very horrifying way.

There is nothing natural there. The whole planet is completely dead. No natural climate, no hydrological cycle, no natural seasons, no fauna or vegetation left. The planet is completely dead, in a biological sense.

Coruscant is haunted because it's dead, and the only thing left there from the planet itself are ghosts.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Dark Side of the Moon

Dark Side of the Moon by imogenbynight (@thevioletcaptain) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55k

Five months into his six month mission, an accident leaves Flight Engineer Dean Winchester stranded on the moon. It comes down to a man he has never met to bring him home.

This fic has The Martian vibes, so if you like your shipping paired with the inherent horror of being stranded in space, I have great news.

Dean is the sole survivor after an accident kills his crew. His hope for survival rests in a stranger, Cas.  Dean and Cas bond immediately and it makes for a compelling love story. The fic is also well cast with deeply likable characters.

In the end, if you are looking for tense drama with a happy ending, this is a great choice. There's a real Cas saving Dean from Hell vibe to the fic that hits so very right.

[run-until-you-walk]

[maluyoongi]

título: Ok, Allright! data: 18 de dezembro de 2023 programa: ibis paint x doada para: @jiseokerina link: 🍏

[deliciousangelfestival]

Switched Sides 1 - Lloyd Hansen Series

Character: Lloyd Hansen x former Hitman!FemaleReader

Summary: Y/N L/N quit her job as a hitman to take care of her nephew after her stepbrother died. It’s been a year since she became a good aunt to her nephews, and she wants to keep it that way. But her quiet life got disturbed when her former boss asked for her help.

Warning: Nothing

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Last Chapter

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

The pendulum bar of the metronome kept moving left and right. This object has helped to calm her anxiety and nightmare. Because of her former job as a hitman, her ears become sensitive to sounds. 

Y/N L/N, 37 years old, is a former hitman. Code name ‘Antartica’. She quit her job after she met her stepbrother for the first time in 8 years.

'Ring!'

The alarm from her phone reminded her it was 5 a.m. The ringtone made Y/N jump out of her bed and went to the bathroom to wash her face and teeth. 

At 5.15 am, she went to the first door beside her room to have a quick inspect before jogging on the treadmill.

She ensured her footsteps weren't loud, so the little one inside the crib won't wake. 

Y/N looked down and saw a cute toddler in his onesie with a little blanket covering his little body. 

'He is still asleep; that's great.'

Then she carefully moves to another room to see another kid. She opened the door and saw the teenage boy still asleep. 

'Good.'

If anyone ever told her, she would become an aunt she would laugh at them. 

But after Y/N became the legal guardian for his stepbrother's kids, the earth would turn to hell if anyone tried to hurt her nephew. 

After ensuring everyone was still asleep, she did a quick workout by running on the treadmill. 

At 6.30 a.m. After she showered, she knocked on the door of the oldest to wake him up. 

Then she went to the youngest, Kendall L/N, 2 years old, and brought him down with her so she could watch him while she was making breakfast. 

At 7 a.m., Mark L/N, 9 years old, came down the stairs, yawning, "You could just give me cereal, aunty."

Y/N smiled at him while setting up the table. "It's okay, besides I like to cook."

Mark smiled at her. He wondered how a hitman like her could be gentle and be the best replacement for his parents while he still had other relatives who had normal jobs. 

He never met Y/N, but he always heard the stories of her from his father. Mark's father is a policeman but is proud to have a step-sister who works as a hitman.

-Flashback starts-

Mark finally met Y/N at his father's funeral. She was quiet. None of the relatives want to talk to her. It seems like they are scared of her. She didn't shed a tear but she look so sad looking at his father's coffin.

After the funeral, everyone discussed who would care for him and his youngest brother, none wanted to volunteer. 

Mark heard his relatives murmur:

"If only Mark, I would love to, but the youngest, it would take a lot of work."

"I don't have time to take him to the hospital."

"And he always cried, my children will be angry with me."

"We have to talk about the big elephant in this room. Caring for cancer patients takes a lot of money, and their father didn't leave enough money for Kendall's treatment."

Mark wanted to cry and hide for being useless and couldn't protect his baby brother. He can't believe he heard from his relatives that they will become a new burden.

'SMASH.'

Someone punched the thick mahogany table and made a hole. It was Y/N, his aunt. 

"I will take care of them."

When he saw the ruined table and his relatives scared looking at Y/N, he felt somewhat relieved because someone defended him.

It was awkward at first, but her habits were the same as his father's. The way she cleaned up the house, cooked everything, and her perfume was the same as his father's.

Mark remembered his father always wore a perfume his sister gave him.

His father told him before it was Y/N who took care of him since their abusive parents rarely stayed home. 

He knew her former job as a hitman from his father, but it didn't matter.

Because she gives her everything in taking care of them, especially his younger brother Kendall, who always cried because of the pain from the chemotherapy he went through.

Kendall got diagnosed with blood cancer. It'd been a year for him getting the treatment. 

She would stay up all night to hold him. Before, it was Mark who watched over his brother Kendall if he woke up in the middle of the night. But with Aunt Y/N here, he could sleep until morning.

He felt guilty but his aunt told him not to worry "I'm used to not sleeping for 5 days. This is nothing."

That's what Mark and Kendall's life has been for a year. His life could be considered normal, with an aunt, a former hitman, as his second parent. 

-Flashback ends-

Y/N drove him to the school, along with his brother, in the infant car seats. Kendall will need another chemotherapy today. He rubbed his little brother's hand. 

How come a little kid like me could hold the pain? As an older brother, he wished he could do something to help his younger brother. 

"We've arrived."

"Aunt Y/N, you don't have to drop me there."

"Why not?"

Mark pointed at the group show standing before the school entrance door. "Because of them?"

"Uurgh, mothers." 

YN rubbed her forehead; she could deal with kingpins, mafia leaders, and pirates, but with mothers, she couldn't do anything. 

Mothers are complicated, they don't use any physical weapon, but their words are more hurtful than knives. Y/N doesn’t hate them, but they’re competitive on how to make their children be the best in this school.

Mark didn't go to private schools, but most of the mothers here are fighting to make their children enter an Ivy League College. They could be friends and enemy at the same time.

Jealousy and gossip are too much for Y/N. It's better to stay away from that group. 

Y/N agreed with Ky; she stopped before the mother saw her car. 

"I'll be here when you practice."

"Yes, I'll see you later, Auntie Y/N." Mark waves his hand.

When she saw Mark enter the school building, Y/N wanted to escape her mother by using her driving skills. But there is a speed limit in school areas. So she at least has to open her car window and greet them. 

"Fiuuh." Y/N sighed, relieved today she doesn’t have to make small talk. She drove the car to exit the school and headed to the hospital. When the vehicle stopped at the red light, her phone rang. But that ringtone is from her other phone. After she quit her job, nobody ever calls her again from that number. 

'Ring.' 

It must be urgent. Y/N turns her head to see Kendall, who is still sleeping. She hopes nothing bad if she accepts the call. 

“Speak.”

"Hello, Antarctica." 

Y/N held her breath when she heard his voice. It's been a year since she met him, and he called her using a code name. That means he needs her for a mission.

"You're still alive?"

"Hmm, cold as always; here I thought motherhood changed you."

"What do you want?"

"I need your help."

Y/N rolled her eye; he knew she had left the old life behind. And the mission he gave is always dangerous; she can’t take a risk while caring for her nephews. 

"I'm busy."

'CLICK.'

She turned off the cell phone so he wouldn't bother her momentarily. It’s been a year since she has had a quiet life without a life-threatening mission, and she wants to keep it that way. 

At the hospital. 

Y/N is sitting beside Kendall, getting his medicine to treat his cancer. 

Every time she sees him crying when the nurse puts the needle through the skin, it's killing her. If doctors could transfer Kendall's pain to her, she would accept it. 

There's an alternative besides chemotherapy. Doctor told her there was available oral medicine, but they needed to wait for months to get it.

She sighed; being a parent is difficult. How come her brother keeps smiling while being a single parent? That's amazing. 

****

At the school.

Y/N is supposed to pick up Mark and then go home. But she almost waited inside the car for 20 minutes, and he didn't come out of the school. 

She carried Kendall into her arms cause there was no way she would leave him alone inside the car. Y/N carried Kendall in her arms all day since Kendall hated the stroller. He prefers to be hugged by his aunt because her perfume resembles his father's.

"Bwo?"

"Yes, we will see him."

Kendall clapped his hands. He is always excited whenever they pick up his brother from school. 

On the way to Mark's classroom, she met group mothers in the hallway. And their leader Jenny who is also a PTA. She's perfect from head to toe, has blonde wavy hair, wears designer clothes from head to toe is walking towards Y/N. Jenny is a softly-spoken person but vicious at the same time. 

"Hi, Y/N and baby Kendall." Her high pitch made Kendall hide his face in Y/N's shoulder. 

"Hi, Jenny." 

"How are things at home? If you ever need help, tell us in the group chat."

So you have material to gossip about my family? No, thank you. 

"Thank you, but now I still could manage."

"Great. So can I ask, have you prepared your stuff for the school bazaar tomorrow?"

This month is the school anniversary; for the first of the month, there will be a bazaar, sports, and music events. Every student and parent is mandatory to join. 

Y/N couldn't choose because his brother had volunteered to bring food to the bazaar. 

"Yeah, I've made vegan brownie cake."

"Ooh, vegan and homemade cake. Lovely."

Y/N has thought a 50 ways to step away from this conversation. If she were still a hitman she could make Jenny fainted.

"Aunt Y/N. Aunt Jenny."

Mark's presence saved her from the conversation. Even Kendall stretched his arm towards his brother. 

"I'm sorry the math teacher gave us extra assignments."

Y/N brushed his hair, then held his hand. "Don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow Jenny."

"Bye."

While on their way home, Mark remembered what his aunt said to Jenny.

"Is it true you're going to bake a cake, Aunty Y/N?"

"No, I have ordered it from the bakery."

He laughed because his aunt was not able to bake. Then something caught his attention. An unknown number keeps calling Y/N phones.  

"Aunty, an unknown number keeps calling you."

"Just ignored it."

Y/N didn't say anything, which means he should stop asking. He realized when Y/N was with them, she never received a call or called someone. It must be true she has left everything behind. 

****

At unknown location

Inside the room, there is a man sitting in the darkness while looking at an old photo. It seems like he longing for that moment when the picture got taken.

That man is Lloyd Hansen—a sociopath, an insane and deadly person in the hitman industry, and also Y/N's former boss. 

"Sir, Antarctica is not answering, but we have her location." 

Lloyd smirked; he knew this would happen. He snapped his fingers. "Well then, we should go for a quick visit tomorrow."

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Last Chapter

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

[mandos-mind-trick]

F*** Diplomacy

Summary: On another relief mission, you find yourself in a sticky situation. Luckily there's a certain Commander to give you a hand.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, sorta sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, grinding, clothed sex, growling, biting, brief blood, dirty talk, language, Wolffe being Wolffe, confession of feelings.

A/N: I wrote this in the bathroom during an IBS flare up so please forgive if it makes no sense. I am out of it like crazy but must share the smut with y'all because I have no self control.

MASTERLIST

You could laugh. You wouldn’t dare, though. Your sense of self-preservation is far too high to do something like that. 

It was no secret your commander hates relief missions. 

It's only natural your battalion was chosen to head another relief mission. You think Wolffe actually growled when the Generals ended the call. 

You know how much Wolffe hates relief missions. At least this time his favorite droid won't be going. There was no need for a protocol droid this time. You were delivering supplies and setting up shelters after a Separatist attack. The Republic needs the continued support of this particular planet due to its location near two critical hyperspace lanes, so you were going to help keep the Republic in good graces in the eyes of the inhabitants. 

You would have chosen anyone but Wolffe for this mission. 

The gruff commander wasn't exactly the most diplomatic, and you suppose that's why he'd grabbed you by the pack and hauled you onto the gunship with him and the rest of the Wolf Pack as you'd been loading up. 

It's also no secret you're the Wolf Pack's favorite medic. You had been graced with the sigil on your uniform not long after your reassignment to the 104th. You had been among the many medics shipped off to refill the ranks after the loss of most of the battalion. 

You'd been the one to hold Wolffe's head in your lap, staunching the bleeding after his unfortunate incident with the wrong end of a lightsaber. 

You'd been adopted into the Pack not long after, named their honorary medic despite your status as a civilian contractor. 

You tried not to blush as Wolffe all but lifted you into the gunship with one hand. You'd be lying if you said you weren't harboring a small crush on your commander. It was hard not to crush on any of them, but the gruff commander held a special place in your heart. Maybe it was the way he looked at you as you comforted him after he lost his eye, or maybe it was the way he kept you close whenever you were going to potentially dangerous areas. You know he still feels the loss of his original battalion to this day. 

The gunship rattles as it takes off, your hand lifting to hold one of the handles to keep yourself steady. You don't get off the cruiser often, but you're always excited when you do. You've always wanted to travel, to visit places all over the galaxy. Maybe that's what led you to join the GAR. 

You certainly don't regret it, even if it is hard sometimes.

You can feel Wolffe's arm brushing your side as you sway with the movements of the gunship. You're sure your cheeks are red by now and you're glad your back is to the rest of the Pack. You'd never hear the end of it. 

Wolffe exits the ship first when it lands, offering you a hand to help you down. You take it, even though you could make it easily yourself. 

You jump right into helping, working with the other medics to get the tent set up and ready to start treating any wounded villagers. You'd love to be able to watch Wolffe's attempts at diplomacy, but you are here to do a job. Ogling your commander is not part of that. 

***

You're kept busy throughout the day. Most of the injuries you see are minor. Many bandages and bacta patches later, you finally take a break. One of the villagers offers you a cup of warm liquid and you accept, not having had much of a break to eat or drink anything. The liquid is sweet and slightly tangy, coating your mouth and throat as you drink it, but it’s not unpleasant. 

You finish the liquid before making your way through the village. 

You find Wolffe gathered around the fire with the village leaders. It's colder on the planet than you would have expected with the sun out. You slip in between Wolffe and Sinker, taking in the warmth of the fire. 

Wolffe glances down at you as you settle in beside him, before he turns his gaze back to the village leaders. 

You sit and listen to them talk, your mind starting to wander a bit. You can feel the warmth of the bodies beside you, almost more than the fire in front of you. Something begins to tingle under your skin, making your hair stand on end. 

One of the village leaders is staring at you, her face focused. She's been staring at you for a while, no emotion or expression in her gaze. The attention is making you a bit uncomfortable, and you resist the urge to hide behind Wolffe. 

You begin to warm, a cramping feeling starting in your stomach. You press a hand to your abdomen right below your belly button. Maybe you're more hungry than you thought.

The ache in your stomach continues, progressively getting worse. You couldn't possibly be sick. There were no unknown diseases on this planet you could have been exposed to. You had drank whatever it was that woman had given you. Maybe that was causing your distress. 

"Excuse me." You say quietly as you step away, slipping through buildings until you're on the edge of the village. 

You brace a hand against the side of one of the buildings as another cramp spasms in your stomach. The air no longer feels cold as your body warms. Maybe you are sick. 

You take a few steps into the trees, not wanting to be sick where someone might see you. You take deep breaths, screwing your eyes closed. The last thing you need is to be sick during a diplomatic mission. 

Your ears pick up a sound in the distance, your brows furrowing. Curiosity gets the best of you and you follow the sound, walking through the trees.

You stop on the edge of a small clearing, your eyes widening. The woman that had given you the drink is pressed up against a tree, completely bare. There's a man behind her, snapping his hips into hers. Both of their eyes are closed, faces twisted in pleasure. 

Your face burns as you back away, breathing heavily. Kriff, you think. You had read something about this planet's mating seasons. The attack had happened right in the middle of one. 

Kriff. 

Your core throbs, your brain replaying the image of the man and woman over and over. The faces begin to shift, morphing into you and Wolffe. His hands gripping your hips, growling as he fucks into you. 

Oh kriff. 

You need to get on a gunship and back to the cruiser immediately. The drug could kill you if you're not careful. 

Your name is called, your eyes squeezing shut as you curse. Just who you don't want to see. You turn to him, probably looking as wild as you feel. Wide eyed, sweat dripping, legs trembling. Thank the maker he can't read your mind as he struts closer to you. 

You know he's big. You just know it. 

"Everything alright?" Wolffe asks, stopping a few feet in front of you. 

"I need to get to the med center on the cruiser." You say, voice shaking almost as much as your legs. 

He frowns, looking you over. "Are you sick?"

"I'm going to be." You murmur, swaying on your feet. 

You audibly whimper when Wolffe puts his hand on your shoulder, steadying you. His hand is so warm, the weight of it enough to send you spiraling into visions of him on top of you, those hands all over your body. You screw your eyes shut, not able to look at him anymore. 

"What's going on?" You can practically hear the growl in his voice. Slick floods your panties, soaking them right through. 

"It's mating season." You say, not brave enough to open your eyes. "They gave me an aphrodisiac." 

"What?" Wolffe asks in disbelief.

"This planet has mating seasons. They use aphrodisiacs to help. I drank one." You explain. "I didn't know what it was when she gave it to me."

His grip on your shoulder tightens, another whimper leaving your throat. You want him to squeeze your hips, your thighs, your ass. You want him to hold you so tightly he leaves bruises. You want him to sink his teeth into your throat and claim you as his-

You don't realize he's been talking. 

"I need help." You whimper. "I could die if I don't get something." The last word leaves you in a whine. You want a cock, you want Wolffe's cock inside you. 

"What can I do?" He asks. 

"I-I'm not in my right mind." You frown, eyes still closed. "I-I can't. I can't take advantage of you like that."

He steps closer. You can feel the warmth of him against your body. He's so close, his breath fanning your heated skin. "What if I want to."

You finally let your eyes open, your gaze meeting his. His brow is furrowed, gaze intense as he stares down at you. 

"Kriff, I've been waiting for you to ask me for a long time, mesh'la." He all but growls, the hand on your shoulder sliding down your arm. It leaves goosebumps in its wake, the fabric of his glove rough against your sensitive skin. "Do you know why I keep you so close to me?" He tilts his head, bending down closer to you. 

You lift up on your toes, shaking your head. "No, sir."

He does growl this time, the sound vibrating in his throat as he smirks. "It's because I keep hoping for the right moment to kiss you."

"All you had to do was ask." You murmur, closing the distance between you.

Your back hits a tree as your lips meet, his body pressing tight against yours. His hand lifts to your face, tugging on your chin until you open your mouth. He slips his tongue inside, flicking it against yours. You moan into his mouth, the heat under your skin practically begging you to devour him. 

His hands slide down your body to your hips as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip. You taste blood, but you don't care as he presses his codpiece against your pelvis. You moan at the friction, grinding yourself against the hard plastoid. 

"Kriff, just like that, mesh'la." He groans. "Gonna cum just like that?"

You continue to grind against him, nodding. "Yes. Fuck, Wolffe!"

He smirks, letting you work yourself up desperately against him. "Good girl."

He lets you continue to grind against him, his hand slipping behind you to grab a handful of your ass. You whine, his touch almost painful but you don't care. 

"Gonna...gonna cum." You pant, desperately grinding against his codpiece. 

"Cum for me." He growls, pushing harder against you. 

Your head as you cum with a cry, hips jerking against his codpiece. You can feel the bulge under it, a promise of what's coming next. 

The heat under your skin abates for just a moment, your mind clearing enough for you to catch your breath. You taste blood as you lick your lips, staring up at Wolffe. 

"I need more." You gasp out, heart thumping wildly in your chest. "It won't be enough."

Wolffe bites the tip of his glove, tugging one off. He tucks it into his belt before his hand cups the spot between your legs. You're hot and damp under your uniform, slick dripping down your thighs. You need more, you need touch. 

You press your hips against his hand, desperate for more. He tugs your belt off dropping it in the grass. His hand slips under your waistband, rough fingers gliding through your slick folds. 

An absolutely primal noise leaves you as he finally touches you, more slick gushing out to coat his fingers.

He chuckles, fingers ghosting over your clit. "Such a needy little thing." 

"Please." You whimper. "Please. Need you so bad."

"What do you need, baby. Tell me." 

"Your cock." You whine, grinding against his hand desperately. "I need your cock inside me."

He pulls his hand from your pants, making you sob. "Ask politely. I am your commander, remember?"

You gulp, getting wetter as he stares down at you with that intense gaze. "Please, sir. I need your cock inside me."

He grins, stroking your cheek with his slick fingers. "That's my good girl." 

You practically preen under him, legs shaking in anticipation. 

"Take it off." He growls, leaning in closer to your face.

You reach forward, pulling off his codpiece. You can feel the heat blooming under your skin again, your brain filling with fantasies of what's about to happen. You drop his codpiece in the grass, your hand rubbing the bulge in his blacks. He's so big, hard and pulsing against the fabric. 

You slip your hand in, closing your fingers around his cock. Your mouth waters and you desperately want to drop to your knees and suck the mean streak right out of him. You know you can't waste much time, though. You need to fix this problem and get back before the others start looking for you. 

You pull him free of his blacks, marveling at the size of him in your palm. You jerk him a couple times, letting your eyes lift back to his face. His gaze isn't soft or gentle by any means. It's...admiration, you think? Something not usually in his gaze when looking at others. 

"Take your pants off." He rasps, pushing your hand from his cock. He takes it in his own hand, jerking it as you work on tugging your pants down. 

You get one leg out before he pounces, gripping your thigh tightly to tug that leg around his waist. You lean back against the tree, holding his gaze as he drags his cock through your folds. 

You mewl needily, trying to push your hips closer to him. He finally takes pity on you, slipping his cock inside your pussy. You moan at the stretch, your body opening for him. You know it's the aphrodisiac doing most of the work, making your body well prepared for him without needing any extra stimulation or preparation. 

The feeling of his cock stretching you open forces the worry of any lingering side effects out of your mind. He pins you against the tree, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

He pauses once he's inside you, letting out a groan. He lips brush your neck as he feels you pulse around him, body desperate for any sort of relief. You cling to his shoulders, his armor digging into your skin but you don't care. The pain only adds to the sensation, more wetness seeping out around his cock. 

"Making a mess of us and I haven't even started yet." He smirks. "You naughty little thing."

You whimper at his words, trying to grind your hips against him for any sort of relief. "Please, sir." You whine. "Please fuck me."

He nips at your neck, humming quietly. "Since you asked so nicely."

He draws his cock from your walls until just the tip is inside before slamming his hips forward, forcing his cock back inside. You gasp at the sensation, clinging to him as he repeats the motion, jolting your body with every thrust into you. 

The bark of the tree drags against your skin but you don't care. You'll worry about the discomfort later. All you care about is Wolffe and his cock inside you. 

"Harder." You gasp, threading your fingers in his hair. "Fuck me harder, please."

A groan rumbles in his chest as he draws his hips back before picking up the pace, fucking into you hard. You cling to him as he takes you roughly, hips slamming against yours. You'll have bruises but you don't care. 

"So kriffing good." He groans, panting into your neck. "So tight and hot. Such good pussy, baby. All for me. All mine." 

"Yours." You gasp, hardly able to form words from the pleasure rushing through your body. "Only yours." 

"Gonna cum for me?" He asks, slipping a hand between your bodies to tease your clit. "Gonna cum around my cock?"

You cry out his name as he fucks you through your orgasm, walls spasming around him as pleasure burns through your veins, nearly whiting out your vision. 

His hips stutter, a growl rumbling through his chest as he cums, hips slamming into yours as he fills your pussy. 

You're gasping for breath, still clinging to him as you come down from your high. 

"Fuck, babe." He groans, pulling back just slightly. The front of his armor and his blacks are soaked. 

"Oh kriff." You breathe. You can still feel the heat lingering under your skin. 

Wolffe pulls himself free of you, tucking himself back unto his blacks. "Made a big mess of us, didn't you?"

You nod, legs shaking as you try to stand on them. He chuckles, helping you back into your pants, putting your belt back on before his codpiece. 

"Come on, mesh'la." He says, scooping you into his arms. "Let's get you back to the ship." 

"But what about the mission?" You ask, resting your head on his shoulder. 

"Fuck diplomacy." He says, carrying you back to the gunships. 

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink

[elliewlums]

for your consideration; stepbrother eddie teaching innocent reader to smoke... he has her sit in his lap so he can hold the joint for her... many thoughts

yummmmm so many thoughts😋💋

content warnings: stepcest, fem!reader, eddie n reader make out, suggestive themes but no smut, eddie n reader smoke weed, innocent!reader, sort of corruption kink

“you want me to teach you?” eddie asks amusedly, lit joint between his fingers as he lazily spreads himself across the couch. your parents are away for the weekend and eddie has taken the opportunity to smoke in the living room instead of his usual favourite spot of the basement.

you nod sheepishly at his question, twiddling your thumbs and gazing at your feet. he can sense your anxiety and beckons you close. you follow his every move like a puppy.

“c’mere, then. can’t do it if you’re all the way over there.” his voice is playful, chiding, and you breathe a soft sigh, moving to squeeze next to him on the couch; before you can even think about sitting, his ring clad fingers are firmly around your waist and you’re in his lap.

“eddie! i- we can’t. this is wrong, right?” you know it’s wrong to have feelings - lustful, romantic feelings - about your stepbrother, but when he’s right there, holding you tight as though maybe he reciprocates those forbidden feelings, you’re not sure you can find it in yourself to care. the strong smell of weed wafts up your nostrils and you scrunch your nose, wiping a sleeved hand over your face.

“no, this isn’t wrong. after all, i’m your brother now. i’m s’posed to take care of ya, sweetness.” you shudder at the word brother. you’ve never viewed eddie as family, not really. maybe it’s your love towards him that’s talking, but you love him in a way you’re absolutely not supposed to love family.

“stepbrother, eddie,” you murmur, hooking your arm through his.

“yeah, yeah.” he holds the joint up to your slightly parted lips, encouraging you to close your mouth around it. you follow his instruction and inhale the smoke; your uncomfortable expression makes him laugh. “now inhale, right down to your chest, alright? that’s it, you got it. and now breathe out.”

you carry on like that for a while, eddie alternating between smoking and then holding it for you as you take a hit. the drug works quickly and seems to make you needy— you’re all over eddie, nose nuzzling his neck, eyelashes fluttering against his skin. he’s in heaven.

“y’okay?” he asks softly, a hand on your head. you nod, smiling dazedly. your vision is a little hazy and you’re completely fixated on eddie. “alright, baby.” he’s cooing and it only makes your lovesick expression grow tenfold.

“don’t think ‘m s’posed to love you the way i do, ed,” you mumble, pushing your arms beneath his.

“no?”

“nuh uh. you’re pretty.”

“shh, shh,” he soothes, sitting up to cradle your jaw in his broad hand. “you wanna kiss me?”

“y-yeah,” you hiccup. “wanna kiss you all over. you make me feel funny.” eddie grins wolfishly. maybe this was his plan all along, to get you high and clingy. to make you admit your feelings for him.

“alright, hold still. i’m gonna try something and if you don’t like it, you tell me.” his face inches closer to yours, closer still. when he sees nothing but enthusiasm in your gaze, he presses his lips to yours; you gasp into his mouth, hands clutching at his shoulders and neck as you press yourself into him. his mouth smells like weed and cheap beer and his hair tickles your face. you murmur something inaudible as he slips his tongue into your puckered lips, his deft hands and soft, caring touches turning you to putty beneath him.

“eddie…” you whine.

“behave,” he warns, diving in for another open mouthed kiss. it’s sloppy, the way he kisses, all teeth and tongues and spit swapping; your lips feel swollen and when he pulls back, you’re perfectly dazed, lips kiss bitten and eyes half-lidded. you pout. “you want more?” he teases.

“want you,” you manage to breathe out before you’re sliding your hands up his shirt and mouthing at his neck. “please, eddie, please…”

“‘ve got you, fuck,” he curses. “who knew my baby stepsister was such a slut?”

you whine, grabbing for him again. your hands are on his back, face nestled into the juncture of his neck as you bite and suck marks into his skin.

“you’re so mean,” you gripe. he quiets you easily with a nip to your earlobe, another to your jaw, your collarbone, your shoulder.

“i know,” he faux sympathises, mimicking your little pout. “you just sit back and let me take care of you, ‘kay?”

[blueparadis]

Higuruma ‘i’ll cure your daddy issues’ Hiromi.

He keeps you under close inspection and doesn't really express his possessiveness or his jealousy. He will support you when you are in a relationship, through and through. Listening to your relationship problems over a cup of coffee or ice cream. But after your first break up, he takes you to the countryside and tells you there's plenty of fish in the sea. You shouldn't waste your tears over a boy. He will even lend a shoulder if you are still not cheered up, and will share a cigarette if he has to; for your smile. So that when your head is clear, your mind is sane from sadness you think of him. Yeah, you think he is cool for keeping up with the taste of this new generation. You're so naive and so childlike. It makes him want you more. You don't get it— the weight of his actions; but it will catch up to you eventually,by the time you've already done something you regret; those short-lived intimate moments of holding hands in the crowd while crossing a street feels like a fever dream

[tacogoats]

Thinking about a Durge who has rejected Bhaal, and whatever person they used to be, but still secretly longs for their lost memories. A Durge that, despite the answers the man could give them, would never re-ignite that strange passion they were shown they once had for Gortash. A Durge that has, for all purposes to the others in their party, moved on. A Durge that, six months after that day atop the Netherbrain, at a party celebrating their new life, receives a strange letter with an even stranger gadget hidden inside.

The meeting at the inauguration was a strange one. Despite Gortash's very obvious elation at seeing what he'd called his 'dearest friend', the man had no hesitation very proudly detailing the Dark Urge's grand scheme; their grand design for the world to be.

In front of all their friends and 'new' lover, of course.

They were furious, and rightly so. Gortash must have known what he was doing. To isolate them, to bring them back to him. The person who accepted them for all they were, all they are, and all they could be - together.

It wasn't enough to win the Dark Urge back to him, and although they'd tentatively teamed up in the end - he had died. Not by the Urge's hand, but in some ways, his own. The group had left Gortash's body within the Prism, and simply moved on. There were bigger problems, and no one really was sad to see him go. Right?

The Urge remembers a letter found in Moonrise Towers. Gortash liked gadgets, according to Ketheric. Evidence was abundant enough with the Steel Watchers, among other things. The item is strangely shaped, entirely too small, and with a simple touch, comes to life.

It reminds them of the strange picture they had seen at the Iron Throne. Gortash's visage shone through a glass, moving, talking - warning them to leave. Answering them, praising them for listening.

What a strange contraption, they'd thought all those months ago.

And then, now, there he was again. A picture, in their hand. A moving picture. Speaking with his voice, wearing his weary face - so, so weary - but not the same as before.

This had passed already. The voice did not answer them this time. It was simply impossible - the man was dead, but not quite gone in this moment.

He speaks of the inauguration like it had just happened. His joy at seeing his favourite 'assassin' again, which he says with a sad smile and a moment of silence. A heavy sigh follows, rubbing at his eyes - which they can see are so much darker than they last remember.

He is tired.

Gortash speaks of their time together, before Orin - and how Orin torments him day and night now that they had both confirmed the Urge's return. She appears with their face, taunting him some days. Other days she sends assassins that wear the same, and he simply cannot let his guard down anymore. But he knew it was them that day.

They can see the exhaustion that pulls down his features, makes his words heavier. This is not the Archduke speaking to him in this moment - it is a tired, broken down man that has just seen a ghost.

Yet they cling to every word anyway, because even though this is a broken down man who is terrified of the ghost - the man still hopes the ghost will remember him, too.

They don't. But he doesn't know that, not this little picture of him, anyway.

The picture says that if they are seeing this recording, it means he is already dead - and although he had planned to sway them back to his side, he may not have been given the chance, and refuses to allow the opportunity to share what the two of them once had slip away.

He would gift unto them the memories that he could, even beyond death. The bloody ones, the happy ones, the painful ones.

And he talks, he smiles, he even cries.

And so do they.

[saintchaser]

i think that we often do forget that the black brothers were not inherently good people; they were more or less morally grey, more or less leaning towards the good/bad side. it's hard to fully unlearn beliefs of your family (and i think that many people resonate with this statement, whether we are talking about fictional characters or real, fully-fledged people), and i think that morally grey characters are far more interesting than people who are inherently good or evil.

sirius black

many people (including myself) would say that sirius is leaning more towards the lighter end of the spectrum, given the fact that he actively tried to unlearn his family's beliefs, he ran away from home at the age of sixteen and decided to move in with people who were recognized in the wizarding society as good people, he joined the order as soon as he finished hogwarts, and, even after the unfortunate ending of the first war, he decided to join the order again and stay inside a house that was never a home for him, to ensure the safety of himself, the order, and harry, too. his last act was the attack at the ministry where he found himself, despite the fact that he was supposed to stay inside grimmauld place, and where he died.

however, we cannot deny that sirius, too, had slip-ups. one of them was the prank (to review what happened, essentially, he told snape how to get past the whomping willow, therefore revealing remus' secret to him). in this situation, sirius shows recklessness and a lack of thought towards the consequences that his actions could have towards not only himself, but severus snape and remus, too. his behavior showed a lack of altruism, and a lack of consideration for the people around him, being willing to put them in danger for whatever may have been the reason.

another one would be swm (snape's worst memory), where james is a part of the action too, but the tormenting of snape was unjustified (j&s started the fight, and snape responded) and ended badly. now, i am in no way a defender of severus snape's, but both j&s and him were acting based on either boredom (the aforementioned) and a need for revenge caused by the actions that had happened against him (the latter).

in canon, we are also shown that he does not exactly think the words he says, and the effect they have on people. (“You're less like your father than I thought.” — GoF). i think that sirius had no right to say this to harry, who was just trying to make sure that sirius would be safe. what we need to remember is that, by the time of the action of GoF took place, sirius was still on the run, and the ministry was still looking for him; it would have been dangerous for both him and harry (and whoever might have joined them) to go out of hiding and go meet up somewhere near hogwarts (hogsmeade). harry's response to sirius' request was logical, and sirius' response was reckless and not well-thought.

regulus black

we do not have enough information on regulus to fully state on which side of the spectrum he finds himself on. however, he was known to have held the same beliefs that his parents did and to be an open voldemort supporter (The Slytherin colours of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bed, the walls and the windows. The Black Family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto Toujours Pur. Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings (of voldemort), all stuck together to make a ragged collage.)

therefore, to some extent, we can safely assume that he held the same beliefs as him (and, implicitly, his parents). the voldemort collage might have been on the wall for either research purposes or an act of devotion (this interesting perspective has been added by @/werewolfenthusiast) we cannot be sure; however, i am inclined to think that it might have been a mixture of both.

furthermore, i think the fact that regulus only started actively betraying and going against voldemort only after voldemort's actions had direct consequences on him and the ones he loved — kreacher, and this is shown in two acts; (wording taken off the hp wiki)

After becoming a Death Eater, Regulus began to consider abandoning Lord Voldemort, partly because his master mistreated and intended to kill the Black family's loyal house-elf Kreacher whilst setting up the security measures for one of his Horcruxes.

One day, Voldemort asked Regulus for the use of his house-elf, Kreacher and Regulus eagerly accepted as he wanted to please his master. Voldemort used Kreacher to test the defences around his locket Horcrux, leaving him to die afterwards. Kreacher was able to escape using house-elf magic and told Regulus of what had happened. Regulus worked out that the locket was a Horcrux and was the reason behind Voldemort's immortality. This was the deciding factor in Regulus's defection.

therefore, regulus has been shown to feel remorse and to start to realize the lenghts lord voldemort would go through only when his family (implicitly, his house-elf) were targeted. however, by researching horcruxes and trying to destroy one of them, regulus (un)willingly helped the wizarding world towards voldemort's fall.

all in all, the black brothers are two complex characters who, to some extent, held their family's beliefs and values. whether they had actively tried to unlearn them (sirius) or their betrayal was slow and silent (regulus), and neither of them can be fit in the category of inherently good or bad people.

[ksbbb]

WIP STUFF

“We could use Liam as bait?” Stiles offers, earning a frown from Scott.

“Me? Why me?” Liam complains, not too happy with the way his name was so easily thrown out into the mix.

“Well if Theo is unhinged it’s more likely he won’t kill you as opposed to the rest of us. “ Stiles points out, nodding his head in agreement at his own statement.

“He’s not wrong.” Corey says, humming softly in thought.

“Corey.” Mason frowns, apologetically smiling at Liam.

Apparently what Liam has learned from all of this is that everyone else seems to be sure that the only thing that they can rely on is Theo’s care for Liam to help them buy some time.

How fortunate for Liam.

“Thanks. I guess I’m just going to approach a coyote in the middle of the woods like some lunatic and hope that you’re all right about this.” Liam sighs, bitterly biting back a smart response to Stiles previous statement.

“Glad we had this conversation.” Stiles says, patting Liam’s shoulder.

Theo better be easy to find because what in the actual fuck.

[nanamin-nah-nanamine]

Getō Suguru was a mild child, of both temperament and tone; anyone would agree. He was seen, and not heard. Didn’t speak unless spoken to, spending most of his time just watching. He didn’t need to speak when his… unusual features did all the speaking for him. His birth was a mistake, and his continued existence was his father’s burden to bear.

Little demigods with immeasurable powers weren’t meant to be running around in places such as these. Little demigods were supposed to be nipped in the bud. Humans and Gods were not permitted to mix, it was unbecoming of wolves to convene with rabbits. That’s all humans were, dirty helpless rabbits, only knowing how to bare their holes and spread their plague until the very world they were gifted began to burst at the seams. Useless rabbits, the gods tutted in sympathy. Only knowing how to fuck, run, and die. The Shinto pantheon deemed themselves more refined than their Greek Hellenistic counterparts. Nothing good came from demigods.

Gojo Satoru had a wildly unpredictable temper. He never played nice, he never shared his toys, he took what was his and he took what he wanted.

He always wanted too much.



A young demigod learning what it means to be human, and a young human treated like a god; changing the tides of jujutsu sorcery and guiding them into a new era of enlightenment.

Was their meeting simply coincidental, or was it a twist of fate?

Lmk your thots👁️👄👁️