#tough ruck

[sprout-fics]

Considering Simon’s line of work - there is no place and time for anything less than practical. So when he comes back to you, and sees you wearing delicate flaring dresses made of smooth to the touch material that just hugs you right, well he’s on his knees. And that lingerie of yours?? Oh man. He’s all rough and tough but with you? He discovering this soft and warm side of his. You’re giving him an opportunity to be like this explorer of new world! Giving you (and himself) the pleasure of slow, tingly kisses on your temples, cheeks, neck, collarbone. Kissing your breasts! Sligtly scraping them with his teeth. Plus, I believe he loves to gently veil his big hand around your throat. To feel your pulse. To sense that you’re right here with him.

This is…doing things to me right now.

I LOVE this idea that Ghost is all gunsmoke and bullet casings and charcoal, that he’s got this unmistakable phantasma of death and fatality around him. He oozes a dark and ominous end, a quick one, one you don’t see coming until it’s far too late. The final thing you ever see is the mask, a flash of bone white before there’s the sound of a gunshot and nothing else exists. 

And then there’s you.

In those pretty, floaty sundresses, flowers printed along the hem, a little ribbon at the small of your back. There’s buttons up your front that stop just short of your collarbone. Straps stretch over your shoulders, or maybe fluttery sleeves that lift when you spin to show him. The hem stops just over your thighs and he has to will himself to not think about your legs leading up to the swell of your ass. On top of it all it’s your smile, bright, pleased, staring up at him that makes him- a killer, a soldier born of death and bone- go weak at the knees.

You look like fucking sunshine.

It drives him absolutely crazy. Does something to his brain. He loves seeing you in those lovely little dresses and can’t decide if he wants them on or off of you. 

So he settles for both. Lifts you onto the kitchen counter, rucks up his mask to drag your panties down with his teeth, his gloved hands keeping your legs spread nice and wide for him. 

He eats you out like you’re the last thing he’ll ever taste. Your lovely little sundress bunched around your waist. You grip at his hair and keen at him as he sucks on your clit, hard enough to make you buck ito his mouth. He can’t stand it. He needs more.

“Give it to me.” He rasps after sucking a hickey into the inside of your thigh. “Let me hear you, sunshine. Fuck- you’re so bloody beautiful. What the fuck are you doing to me?”

You know. You know exactly what you’re doing, and when you arch up against his tongue with a weak little cry it’s with a pleased, knowing smile. 

[uchihaharlot]

I asked about Obito and Itachi’s crush offering a massage. And loved it. And now I am here to beg for a more…NSFW version? Please?

Consider your wish granted. 😈 I probably should have done that first time around, but sometimes I like writing fluffier cutesy things.

Also, my apologies nonny! I try to answer these in the order that was received, but there are often shorter drabbles I like to work with first. ❤️🫶

NSFW; dom-ish…Obi (wuuuuhhh??); assplay; penetration; soft/needy Itachi (🥹); soul sucking blow job; these men live the good life, I swear!! Someone come rub my busted ass hip!! 🥹😭😭

Obito:

His crush is a bit perturbed this time around. Why the hell didn’t he get the message the first time she took his damn shirt off?? He’s a bit…dense, ok? Obito is not stupid though, he definitely had a feeling she was up to something. Mm, still up to it this time too, man just didn’t want to get his hopes up. This time he doesn’t stop her when she rucks his shirt up, a little more rough than necessary. Her greedy hands mapping every small dip and minor scar on his back. Roaming down his hard muscles and up to his neck. Despite having small hands, his crush works out those tired muscles and soothes his aches.

‘Let me return the favor.’ It was bold, yes, and laced with a devious tone. Obito couldn’t think of a better way to make her squirt squirm than to return the gesture. ‘Finally.’ She thinks.

He does the same to her as she did him, removing her shirt and bra. Spinning her around pressing stomach flat to floor. Firmly dragging calloused hands over warm flesh. How soft and delicate she left in the hands of a man who has seen caused destruction. How he could destroy her with just a few thrusts. The first kiss on her shoulder has her heart racing. Obito’s warm breath was katon heat on her skin and caused goose flesh to break out. Searing smaller teasing kisses in his wake, Obito lifted her hips and pressed his severely aching girth to her and bent down to whisper in her ear.

‘Is this what you want?’ Dragging his lips down her backside again, lowering his briefs to let out cock and run it against her thigh until it pressed against her clothed heat.

‘..yes.’ Panting already, how badly this girl tried the first time around, she shouldn’t be this breathless. Obito didn’t want to make things any more tantalizing than they already were, but nonetheless, he pressed into those moist panties before slipping his arousal down between her thighs and shutting them.

Bodies pressed close, Obito gently rocked with her. Dragging his girth in and out of her thighs, the head of his cock was a great visual when she looked through her arms. Mimicking hard thrusts, she only imagined how full of him she would be. Why was he taking so long, ‘Obi..?’

‘Ask nicely.’ High on himself, Obito lowered the remaining barrier between them. Stuck his thumb in his mouth and ran it over the sensitive skin between her cunt before slipping it into her ass. The sound that ricocheted out the back of her throat made him press in further. Obito gently tugged her clit with his freehand, ‘or I’ll stop.’

‘No!’ Desperate, sheer lifted her head to look over her shoulder. ‘…please. Obito, gods please.’ He ran that hand to push her panties down to her knees and parted them a little, tracing her entrance.

‘Please. What?’

When her response was his fat cock, only then did Obito brazenly sheath himself to the hilt and slowly drag in and out. The loud mewl she let out told Obito he needn’t be too careful, if she was taking him this well. She could handle a little more. His thumb rocked in and out of her ass, hurried but precise. The way her soft but taut cunt sucked him in more as his thumb worked a different nerve, delivered coinciding sensations.

Her body quaked with his. Obito can only act tough for so long. The second her fluttering walls encapsulate his throbbing cock, its game, set and match. Neither one of them can keep quiet. Whispers of ‘I’m going to pump you full of my cum’ to ‘gonna put a baby in you’ seemingly come from a deep seated desire.

Her into reprieve is to thrust back into him with as much force, feeling the tip of his length kiss the spongey muscle of her cervix. Tap, tap and then the warmth of his loins spreads through her insides. Leaving a line of it down his shaft when he slips out.

They’ll lay on the floor in blissful silence, softly petting one another hair, face and body. Deep slow kisses until the euphoria has subsided.

Itachi:

Gurl is making Itachi flustered this time around. Two back rubs back to back, barely 24 hours apart. His genius didn’t leave room for debate, she was DTF. Just how far was this girl willing to go to please him? When she ran her hand over his abdomen, Itachi pulled her closer. There was no need to beat around the bush. If she really wanted it, just come out with it. Itachi was never one to mince words, he rather found being direct and concise yielded better results.

‘I know what your hands can do.’ He whispered, running a thumb down her palm. ‘I’m more curious about your mouth.’

Under the gaze of the sharingan, his crush drops to her knees. She’s gentle but eager with unfastening his slacks. Tracing the hair that peaks, he slouches in his chair. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be. In the privacy of his own home he could give in to a prohibition or two. As his crush runs her hands over his briefs, both hands pulling down at the hem. He took himself in in hand and tapped the tip of his cock to her lips. She eagerly swiped up his shaft, Itachi growled lowly. Choked out when she sank the warmth of her mouth over his aching cock, to the base and back. Looked up at him and did it again. And again, taking the plunge over his aching head, and fully reaching the back of her throat. Gag reflex seemed nonexistent relatively quickly.

His eyes rolled shut when she tugged his testicles a little and took him in stride again. The urge to ram his cock in her mouth almost took precedence over the desire to last a little longer. Itachi was not virginal by any means, but goddamn his crush was making him feel like a half cocked 16 year old again. When she took him in both hands he went incoherent. Her breathy laugh and whispers fell on deaf ears, ‘does this feel good ‘Tachi?’ Followed the sounds of his low moans and pleas. Itachi gripped a hand at the back of her head to pull her off, but she neither yielded nor slowed down.

He wasn’t a push over, but that familiar itch of the floodgates opening up was the harbinger to the loud grunt that crawled out his throat. Her hands delicately worked his throbbing cock, the tingle scrunched up his balls and soothed the ailment for release. She drank him in full. Allowing the tip of his cock to ram the back of her throat once more as his creamy sperm coated and sloshed down her throat. Unfazed by the bitterness, and her little seductive pop off his cock. It drove him bonkers, Itachi bent down eagerly for a kiss. What was it about a woman drinking from your cock like a straw and swallowing it like the worlds freshest smoothie? Itachi gave two shits about the lingering flavor.

When she thinks he’s satisfied, he’ll bend her over and sweetly offer his gratitude…

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

Attitude Adjustment

Sometimes, Soap has an attitude problem. And sometimes, you need to work it out of his system. F!Reader

NSFW. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

TW: bondage (m receiving), pegging, established relationship, D/s dynamic

Soap liked to run his mouth. But you knew when he was pushing your buttons to get a reaction and this was definitely one of those times.

"You seemed awfully friendly with that Sergeant you were chattin' up earlier," he said, falling into step beside you as you prepared to hand off a stack of finished paperwork.

You frowned, scanning through your memories of the day.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Johnny."

"Right. Like I believe that for a second. He was a handsome fellow, too. Certainly had his eye on you."

That got you to stop. Your gaze slid over to him as you started to put the pieces together.

"Do I hear jealousy in your tone, MacTavish?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I just don't like the lad sizing up my bonnie is all."

You shifted fully to face him now, coming nose to nose with him. Soap lifted his chin and the flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

Oh, he was playing you. This wasn't about some nasty little insecurity whispering like the devil on his shoulder. You hooked a finger in his belt loop and yanked him closer.

"Do I need to mark my territory?" you murmured an inch away from his mouth. "Is that what you're looking for, MacTavish?"

"If anyone is doing the marking, it should be me, hen," he counters and there is definitely the gleam of a challenge in his eyes.

"We'll see about that. Tonight. My quarters. Nine o'clock. Sharp."

When Soap arrives ten minutes late, you don't say a word as he rattles off excuses. And then he has the audacity to brace his hands on the edge of the bed where you sit and lean in for a kiss with a smirk - the bastard.

You narrow your eyes and put a finger to his lips to stop him.

"Don't think you can just charm your way out of this one."

Soap flicks an eyebrow upward with interest because this...oh...the game is on and he loves it.

"Are you saying you want me to beg for it, bonnie? Playing hard to get, are you?"

There's a deadly split second of silence. Then you have your hand in his hair and you yank his head backward. He makes a surprised sound that is definitely edged with arousal.

"On your knees, soldier. Hands behind your back."

His breathing is rapid and shallow as he obeys. While you cuff him, he can barely sit still with anticipation, and there's no hiding his hard-on. You give it a teasing squeeze just to watch him squirm. Then you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you.

"This is what happens when you try to get a rise out of me."

"Worked though, didn't it, love?"

Just for that, you have him bent over the mattress in the span of just a few minutes. Shirt rucked up around his shoulders. Pants pooled at his ankles. You pinch Soap's earlobe between your teeth as you slide your strap-on in and you smile at the utterly lewd moan that spills from his lips.

"Not so cocky now, are you, tough guy?"

He gives a wrecked little laugh because he got what he wanted. But he quickly breaks off with another moan when you hit that perfect spot just right to make him melt into the mattress.

Masterlist

[munsster]

Hii, I love the way you write Robin so I was wondering if you could do a shot of aftercare and pillow talk with her and maybe Byers!reader (this is totally optional tough) hope you can do it :)

tête-à-tête

A/N: i do declare i am a byler FAN and if you didn’t know before, you know now. it’s canon now. to me, byler is canon and i’m leaving it at that. disclaimer: as always reader is step-byers (or half-byers, whichever u prefer ig)

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!Byers!Reader

Summary: Soft and sweaty and close proximity pillow talk with the sweetest girl ever. 1.0k words.

Warnings: alludes to sex, fluff, established relationship, cursing, byler propoganda 👹, pet names (pixie), kissing

Her nimble fingers warm your sticky inner thigh, setting your leg atop the other and wetly kissing the back of your neck as her front winds into the contours of your back. She tugs at the elastic of your cotton shorts until they hug your waist, curving over your hip where she paints her fingertips along the soft skin. Her bones go hot when you shift closer, turning to face her and slip your fingers across hers, nimble and delicate slotted between the knuckles. Her rounded lips let out a soft breath and peck your forehead.

“Feel alright, pixie?”

You nod. She smiles and melts golden around the edges, sighing into the dewy way your body flirts with hers. But she’s always been a statuesque gold. In the springtime sun, especially, letting it kiss her slender body and leave her dotted across the collar, ankles, and cheeks. And if you could count each kiss, you’d call them stars. It’s better knowing they’ll always be there in the billions.

Your eyes slink closed, one palm folded beneath your skull, lips parted for blossoming breaths that fan along her jaw and tell her how much trust is pinned into your pretty head for her.

“Robin,” you whisper, “can I tell you something?”

She smiles.

“Anything.”

“I used to think”—you chuckle—“I used to think you hated me.”

“You’re crazy,” she huffs, cupping your cheek when your eye peaks open.

“No, no! It was… last summer, I think. Maybe June?”—you blink up at the ceiling with a shrug—“Anyway, you and Harrington were all chummy, and immediately I’m like, ‘well, he doesn’t like Johnny very much, which means Robin—through the grapevine, of course—probably doesn’t like me very much,’ and then I went up to you one day, and you had the prettiest smile I’d ever seen, and I wished it was real. That you weren’t just being nice.”

“And I wasn’t,” she chuckles.

“Nope, you weren’t. Because nice girls don’t tear your favorite blouse and steal your panties.”

“Exactly, so you know I was genuinely head over heels the second you looked at me.” A laugh shakes her head, lithe peach ringlets fall limp across her cheek, and you brush them back carefully along the rest of her wavy, frizzy scalp. And each time she pauses, goes a little blank in the rounds of your eyes, you ache knowing you’re homeward bound in less than two days. She catches the dread bound across your face and fasten your lips into a frown.

“Thinking about your flight?”

“Mhm.” You ruck her shirt up and rest your hand where her pajama pants wrap around her waist, feeling the hot skin of her waist. “I just… I know Will’s having so much fun being back with Mike, and I know how much leaving is gonna crush him. He deserves so much,” you sigh, “We all do.”

But Robin knows what you’re avoiding. How your face falls every time you stall for too long, mind begging to fill the silence with her. Make it known who you’re really talking about. How leaving is gonna crush you. But she also knows you’d never be selfish like that out loud no matter how justified the notion is. Sometimes she wants you to be so greedy you’d never leave. You’d cuddle up in her room and never get up, humming along to the radio and kissing all day.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispers. Like if she says it too loud, you’ll go sooner. The universe will put its foot down and decide she’s been comfortable for too long. Sound the alarm, Buckley’s smiled a hundred times this week, that’s a new record.

“Come to California in the summer.”

Her heart stalls in her frail chest, though it bangs around in there harder than it has in a while. Because she has yet to tell you her best kept secret. You graduate from Lenora Hills three days after her, and she’s going to fly out to watch you walk. Had a thirty-minute phone call with Joyce to plan it and everything. So she clenches her jaw and musters up her best pout.

“C’mon, pixie, you know I’m dead broke,” she sighs, “it’s not like I’m making tips sorting slapstick comedies all day.”

“I know, I know,” you say, tugging at your 42nd Street tee keeping her cozy while you crane up to give her a quick little kiss. “‘M gonna miss you.”

It rips her up into ragged pieces when you glance down at the painted and chipped fingernails she draws across your forearm. When you go quiet, she’s all knowing. Knowing you’re thinking hard and it’s devastating you.

“I’ll miss you more,” she hums against your hairline, “but I’ll call you every single day.”

“And I’ll answer.”

“You better,” she says, “I’ll just give you the stomach bug Steve has, and then you’ll have to stay.”

You laugh through a sniffle.

“Pretty sure mom would still drag me back across the country gagging and coughing up blood.”

“Joyce does not fuck around,” she teases, hooking her fingers into your knee and tugging you close enough to breathe you in. And kiss you until you have to drag yourself away.

“No she does not—Oh, speaking of Joyce, she wanted me to tell you we’re all going apple picking tomorrow, and you’re invited. I think Mike’s coming, too,” you say, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and batting your lashes at her.

“I mean, obviously, I’m coming. Who doesn’t love a Byers adventure?” she chirps, “just tell Joyce I’ve gotta defile her daughter one more time”—she bites into your neck, and you squeal. And she’s hoping the next few days will be enough to tie her over until summer break. Who is she kidding: she’s still gonna miss how you lean into her touch and mewl against her palms. She’s always gonna miss how much you love her in person.

masterlist

[unsoundedcomic]

On Ruck and Darkest: 1. I don't think Ruck has thought twice about partaking of Darkest's mundane, petty jealousies. 2. I think he'd find it much more engaging than he expected if he tried - Darkest's former relationship with the interesting Bastion makes him much juicier and his passions richer. Indeed, Ruck might bite if he just heard more about it. 3. Darkest will never be more than a hors d'oeuvre, an idle diversion to toy with that whets Ruck's appetites for a more satiating main course.

I do think you're right, but I have to say that Ruck sincerely likes Darkest. Darkest is the rare spiderpaw that is so absolutely practically-minded that he's not awed by an efheby's power or cowed by his presence - he treats him like another spiderpaw. He looks him in the eye when he talks to him, largely unafraid. If Ruck was ever going to bite him, he'd do so to get the answer to that little mystery - "Why aren't you afraid of me?"

Darkest is pretty tough in general. He deals with Queens and senet beasts and even Bastion without ever backing down. In Sharteshane they'd call him an old salt, even though he's never been to sea, because he has the mien of a man who's fought through typhoon whales and harpooned waterbitches. He's seen shit, and he doesn't tug his forelock to anyone (also because he literally can't, lol)

[anomnipie]

ANNIE ANNIE ANNIE

gimme 3 rick thoughts 3 morty thoughts 2 misc thoughts and 2 general thoughts!!!

rick

textbook tough-outside-but-really-a-softie he just loves his daughter and grandkids sm

WE STAN A BI ICON

his spaceship/car is awesome what a great vehicle its so smart

morty

ik the whole point (kinda not rlly) of Morty is that his dumb waves cancel out Rick's smart ones but i honestly think he is quite smart, not quantum physics PhD but as in he catches on quick (sometimes) and can get himself out of the situations that ruck puts him in

that boy is going to be a worst driver the dimensions have ever seen. probs because there's rick genes in him

honestly i think he would crazy benefit from a family arts and craft activity

misc

UNITY its so cool!!!!!! also using it/its pronouns is so awesome

EVIL MORTY!!????

general

i still can't believe that the first half of s1 is in a diff dimension. mad

i love the random ass gibberish that actually means stuff

[explosionshark]

🌹!!!!

Faith leans back into the pillows. Shakily, she rucks the tattered ruins of her shirt up her abdomen. Plenty of blood but, well, no more sword sticking out of her guts; the wound is raw looking, but closed. “When’s she going to wake up?”

“Who? Buffy? Well, it could be anywhere from two to, uh, eight hours,” Willow waves her hand in the air. “Tough to say with these things. But, uh, sounds like you two will have plenty to talk about, once she does.”

Faith’s heart skips a beat in her chest.

Oh fuck.

“What do you mean?” she asks, slowly.

“Well,” Willow draws the word out, like she’s hoping Faith will interrupt. When she doesn’t, Willow gives her a strange look, and glances back over at Buffy’s unconscious body. “You’re in love with her.”

Send me a 🌹 and I'll send you a snippet of a WIP

[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

The following is a transcript of a lore-important roleplay that occurred on Discord. Some changes will be made to narration and dialogue to better suit flow.

Please enjoy.

Jane knew what needed to be done. He knew what needed to happen years ago, after the war, running away with Zhanna. He just wasn't ready to leave the only home he knew. But it was hardly a home anymore. More like a prison. A prison that contained his ceaseless nostalgia, and he intended to leave it there. To rot.

He unlocked the door to his apartment, sluggish, hand heavy. Claw, even heavier. Sauntering inside, the place was covered in a thick layer of dust. It'd been years since he went home to his apartment. How long had he continued to pay rent? He must be dirt poor by now, surely.

Maybe not. He hoped not.

He began with a ruck sack. Taking canned food out of the cabinets and lining them up on their sides inside the bag's coarse interior. Strapping his shotgun to the side wrapped in tinfoil, to vaguely conceal it's shape. Just a tent pole. Just a tent pole. No need to pry closer.

Next were his clothes. White, brown, red, blue, green t-shirts rolled up into tight bats. Dress and standard-issue pants folded neatly into squares. A few rounds on the top, like sprinkles. He had no idea how he was going to conceal his rocket launcher, but he'd figure that out later.

There was a rental in the parking lot. He didn't have a clue how he was approved for it under a name like Jane Doe, but he was, and he was thankful for it. He tossed his bag in the trunk, his launcher set carefully in the back, and sat down in the driver's seat.

She was smooth. New. Smelled a little like cigarettes. Stick shift. A little blue tree hanging from the rear view.

What a shame she'd never go home.

He peeled out of the parking lot and through the complex gate, down the road that lead to the base.

He wasn't quite done packing.

The smell of damp concrete hit him as the spring air permeated the walls, and his boots click, clacked, click, clacked down the beaten path. He beelined it straight for his dorm, hoping to God he was the only one wandering the ghost town that was now RED base. Hoping to God that if there was anyone there, that they wouldn't-

"Hey, Sarge! Been a minute!"

Tough luck. There stood Private, waiting for him in the hallway. They stood upright, proud, like they were showing off. They'd been training in his absence. He noticed. He always noticed.

…Tough luck indeed.

Jane tried his best to ignore them, hunching his shoulders and balling his fists. He couldn't face the kid. He couldn't face anyone. He was a coward.

"Hey, wait up!" Private excitedly trotted up to him, bandanna trailing quickly behind them. Once caught up, they batted the other's arm and smiled. "What's goin' on, old man?"

He couldn't explain why, but their chipperness made him angry. So deeply, deeply angry. "Don't-" He snapped, watching the lad recoil in confusion. "…Touch me."

"Who pissed in your Cheerios, man?"

They seemed offended, if not mostly bewildered at the sudden shift in behavior. Soldier had been behaving strange lately, sure, but never… hostile. Not to them.

"What's your problem?"

Jane was taken aback. "I-…"

He really wanted to tell them. Tell them that there was a chance. That they could still escape. See their family again. Hit the road with him, run away and never look back. But it wasn't like him. It wasn't like him, and he couldn't bring himself to put the same consequences on Private that he was putting on himself. He knew full well the risk he was taking. Private though…

"I can't say."

"Someone die?" They tilted their head, furrowing their eyebrows. "C'mon, now you have me curious."

Again, anger. Anger that he couldn't contain, anger at the fact that he had to lie to the only person that'd kept him sane in Dell and Yves's absence. Lie to a trainee. Lie to a friend.

He may as well have been in a pinstriped suit, dragging a cigarette like his lungs depended on it.

"I can't say, Private. Quit bothering me."

Private simply frowned. They weren't satisfied with the answer, clearly, and so Soldier did his best to veer the conversation in another direction.

"…Did you train today?" He asked, voice lowered.

"Usual regimen." They responded quickly. "20 push-ups, 10 laps, 5 of which with a bag full of beans."

His eyebrows raised facetiously. "Cans, right?"

"It was one time."

Jane couldn't help but chuckle. They tried so hard.

"Clean your guns?"

"Did that last week."

"And that room of yours?"

"Spotless, sir!"

"…Good." He finally said. He seemed listless. So weary with worry, like a father. He felt almost like a father to them. He wondered... he wondered if they felt like a son. If they ever found out, would they think he abandoned them?

They would be fine. They had to be. He had to convince himself that they would be, for the betterment of his own health. His own selfish peace of mind.

"I'm going to be gone for a while. Watch the perimeter for me, okay?" He strained.

Protect it. Please. It's my home.

"Oh, is that all? Piece of cake! When are you getting back, sir?" They bounced on their heels excitedly.

...Oh.

They were so full of life and light. Vigor. If anything was worth being that excited to fight over, it wasn't billionaires' front lawns. It wasn't too late for them, he knew that. He knew. But he also knew that they wouldn't listen. Ashel would never listen to anyone trying to change their heart's mind.

They really did want to be a hero. And they were stuck in a trench full of gravel.

He whinced. He couldn't do anything else, really.

"…Soon."

"Yeah, I can watch the base while you're gone. I'll tell Pauling you've gone and run to the hills, haha." They had no clue. Absolutely none.

"…"You're dismissed." He murmured quietly.

Jane pushed past them, feeling the cold emptiness of concrete overtake him. He felt their eyes linger on the back of his head, and then turn away after a beat. He hated to do this to the kid, but he had no choice.

He was getting old. He was getting tired. He had nephews he needed to start looking after more, and he was so angry at their neglect, so angry at the trauma they endured, so angry. So, so, so angry. He ripped open the door to his dorm and got on his knees, beside his bed, shoving things into his arms. Music boxes. A raccoon plushie. Several little gifts. A weighted blanket. A thermos.

Then, he moved. Like the walls were closing in on him, like there would be no escape if he didn't walk fast enough, out into the dirt road he drove in on and into the car he planned on stealing. His muddied boots tainted the carpeted floorboards, but he couldn't care. He had to run. He had to run before his ghosts caught up with him.

An engine revving cracked through the piney forest, and as his tires hit cracked, dusty asphault, they squealed.

[shieldmaiden-of-bird]

Before I choose a lineup of racing drivers I should probably explain rugby in the most basic way I can.

There are 23 players in a team. 15 starting players and a bench of eight. For this team we are going with a 5-3 split, because they would not survive a 7-1 split. This refers to the substitute players for the front players and the back players. Why specific subs? This is because players have to train to be part of the scrum and their different positions. Also, the fronts tend to be bigger and the backs tend to be smaller.

If examples are given, they would most often be South African, because my heart is green and gold💛💚 also this is a very long post. Feel free to use my inbox for questions ☀️

The forwards

1 Loose-head prop

Front row of scrum. A very physical position where they have to physically drive back the opposition. Also lifts players during a lineout.

2 Hooker

Front row of scrum. Determines the timing of the scrum. Uses his feet to kick the ball backwards and out of the scrum. Throws the ball in at lineouts.

3 Tight-head prop

Front row of scrum. A very physical position where they have to physically drive back the opposition. Also lifts players during a lineout.

4 Lock (second row)

Supports the front row of the scrum. Target men during the lineout. Also tend to be aggressive. An amazing example of this position is Eben Etzebeth.

5 Lock (second row)

Supports the front row of the scrum. Target men during the lineout. Also tend to be aggressive.

6 Blindside Flanker

Tends to be bigger than an open side flanker. At the blindside of the scrum (closer to the touchline than the open pitch). You usually find these guys in the center of chaos. They make big tackles and big carries.

7 Open side Flanker

Smaller and faster flanker. They play at the far side of the touchline, towards the center of the field. Very important during open play, they also make some tackles and carries.

8 Eightman

Only players allowed to pick up the ball in the scrum. Forms the back row along with 6 and 7. Usually a good runner to make up some distance after a scrum.

The backs

9 Scrum-half

The link between the forwards and the backs. Controls the ball during a scrum, ruck or maul, by inserting the ball (scrum) or extracting (ruck or maul) it. Must be quick and decisive. Usually on the smaller side (good example of this is Faf de Klerk).

10 Flyhalf

Most influential player. Responsible for kicking conversions and other penalties. This player can make or break a team. Also in charge of the back line and coordinates offences. Does box kicks and kicks towards the other team's quarters for a lineout. If you want to see a perfect box kick in action, check out Manie Libbok for South Africa against Scotland.

11 Left Wing

Plays on the wide side of the field. Last line of defence. Also very important in offence. These guys tend to run down the side of the field for tries. Part of the backline.

12 inside centre

Stands close to the fly-half. Strong runners. They run vertical lines. They find gaps in the opponent's defences and draw them away from the backline. Must be good at tackling for a quick defence.

13 outside centre

Faster than the inside centre. Must be ready to make a break for the line. They run vertical lines. They find gaps in the opponent's defences and draw them away from the backline. Must be good at tackling for a quick defence.

14 Right wing

Plays on the wide side of the field. Last line of defence. Also very important in offence. These guys tend to run down the side of the field for tries. Part of the backline.

15 Full back

Receives deep kicks from the opposition. This position is the closest possible to that of a sweeper. Must be comfortable in the sky to catch high balls and to intercept. A tough position for a very athletic player. An example of this is Cheslin Kolbe.

Very basic overview

Scrums

A video (1)(2) explaining better than I ever could.

Lineouts

Another video.

Mauls and rucks

Videos to make the post shorter.

How to score points

Points are scored in a few ways. A Try, which is 7 points. This is when players put the ball down behind the goal posts.

A conversion, which is 2 points. This happens after a try and the position is determined by where the ball is put down. The kick is taken in line of the position the try is scored from the dashed line.

A Penalty Kick, which is 3 points. Awarded when another team infringed on rules. Called a free kick for small offences. If the penalty is awarded inside the range of the posts, a kick is usually taken.

A drop-goal, which is 3 points. When a player kicks the ball over the goal posts during play.

[deadby2091]

Sliming down my foot wear selection.

Foot wear selection, take care of your feet gents.

Sandals for recovery:

Oofos. I wear these 90% of the time I'm not working.

Garrison Work-boots:

Danner Reckonings Winter. (All things Bridgeport ACC, MCCC, WMLC, et cetera.) main garrison boots for North Carolina winters. These are also my to go to rucking boot paired with Fox River Socks and a thin dress sock liner.

Danner Reckonings hot weather. (RTAP/BRC/A&S/ITC/Rucking) these drainage hole covers rarely stay on with heavy use. 

Danner USMC Tropical Boot. 52121 R  (MCIWS-Course/CFT/O-Course/MAI/Jungle Warfare) I'm still not sure if these are better then my completely destroyed bates lites. These boots are sized differently then other Danner boots, also they tend to fall apart a lot quicker from hard use compared to the reckonings. Tropical boots are faux jungle boots, do not wear these for hiking rough mountainous terrain.

Water work:

Altama OTB shoes. (OTB/finning/VBSS/lifting/skydiving) simply a better version of the Converse Chuck Taylors high tops. Great for OTB & VBSS, decent for finning but not the best. Pretty flat so not great for running or rucking.

Poseidon One Shoe. this is a mix of the Converse Truck Taylors and the Aqua Lung dive boots. and are meant for fining.

Field work:

******Why I prefer non-Gore Tex? Moisture becomes trapped in Gore-Tex shoes, causing blisters and bacteria growth.*******

Oboz sawtooth II Low Non-Bdry version. (VBSS/climbing/very light rucking/CQB/patrolling/skydiving) these are great for gripping and hiking on rocky surfaces.

Lowa Zephyr Mid TF. Currently torture testing these. (VBSS/climbing/light rucking/CQB/patrolling/military freefall). these shoes offer ankle support that my oboz sawtooth II lows don’t have & are light.

Sneakers:

Hoka speedgoat 4. (trail running/asphalt/concrete)

Hoka bondi 6. (road running on asphalt & concrete)

Nike pegasus 38. (Road/track/PFT)

Regular wear:

Nike revolution 6. comfort shoe to deal with my near constant foot pain. these replaced my Adidas.

Reebok Nano. these were made for people with wide feet.  

Vans Sk8 Hi skate Notchback Pro shop. (For picking up San Clemente Milfs at Goodies) honestly wore these into the ground; via lifting at EOS & hard skydiving landings at Elsinore.

SOCKS: 

Fox Rivers

Darn Tough 

Merino wool 

Injinji Liner Crew 

Nike No show’s

[starrycassi]

It's very late and I have fever but

Florist Neil au

Get ready to ruck the canon.

So, Mary

When she ran away, she faked Neil's death— or something among those lines

BUT it's also when he's like 15/16 lol

So he somehow ends up in Baltimore (or was it Columbia?? You know the idea, it's where tilda is)

He needs a job, he ends up working in a terrariums

HE'S PERFECT AT IT

His body is so tough that sometimes he just sorta pick the roses up without gloves and doesn't even finch.

He's just such a "brute" that working there is amazing for him

Then, Andrew kill tilda and yada yada.

THEN they need a flower arrangement.

U see where I'm going with this?

Neil gets in there and he's horrible at this part of the jobs because why does everyone cry so much

He's still gotta be there for reasons that I'll remember when I'm better

Him and a Andrew end up skipping the funeral and smocking together in the back of the church

"She was your mom?" "No, she was Aaron's. Tilda was, at best, my bio mother and that's enough of a shame" "My mom died too" "Do you expect me to clap or?"

Do you. Do you see the vision

[gaelic-symphony]

Criminal Minds as Women's Rugby

So a conversation I had in a Discord server got me thinking about what positions the Criminal Minds women would play if they were all on a rugby team together, and here's what I've come up with:

The Forwards

Penelope- Prop. A little obvious, maybe, putting the bigger girl at prop, but she's perfect for it! As a bigger, broad-shouldered girl of medium height, Penelope is built for the front row. As the most touchy-feely member of the BAU team, she'd be down for the close contact of scrums and rucks. Plus, all the props on my team always wore really colorful spandex and decorated their scrum caps, and Penelope would just absolutely crush that!

Kate- Hooker. The shortest one on the pitch, but compact and powerful. She wants that ball, and she will fight a bitch for it!

Tara- Lock. Another glaringly obvious one. Long arms to scoop the ball from a lineout. Strong legs to push back the opposing team's scrum. And really, if you don't put the 6-foot powerhouse in the second row, then what the fuck are you doing???

Alex- Flanker/8-man. A powerful player who's not afraid to get aggressive and physical, but she's a bit more independent and thoughtful in her style of play. She'd rather keep her eyes up and exploit opportunities than keep her head down and barrel straight into the defensive line.

The Backs

Jordan- Scrumhalf. She may not be the biggest or strongest or toughest physically, but she's got a hell of a presence, and she commands respect. She's a cunning opportunist who looks at the big picture and isn't afraid to yell at people if that's what it takes to keep the play running smoothly.

Emily- Flyhalf. A natural leader, calm under pressure. Wiry but strong. Smaller and quicker than the big girls in the forward pack, but still tough and aggressive in her style of play. A back who's not afraid to make or take the big hits.

Elle- Center. Quick and wily. Thinks on her feet. Likes to show off a little bit. Good at finding holes and making breakaways, but can find herself in trouble when she runs off on her own.

Ashley- Winger. Look, I know there are great players who spend their entire rugby career on the wing (Jonah Lomu???), but it is also the go-to position for rookies who have any business being in the back line instead of the forward pack.

JJ- Fullback. Small and fast, but powerful enough to make the big tackle when a back on the opposing team makes a breakaway and starts sprinting for the try zone.

[toontails]

when I think about Ruck, he gives me the vibes of Grunkle Stan from Gravity Falls and that one episode where the twins travelled into his mind and found out why he was so tough on Dipper It is that vibe except we get the truth right from the start but we're just impatient af about it LMAO

Now that you mention that I can see the similarities

[chronal-anomaly]

Lena Oxton, Callsign: Tracer.

Lena Oxton was considered a prodigy at the Royal Airforce Academy, where she was placed on a fast-track to become a top fighter pilot for the Queen's Royal Air Force. After graduating basic training, she was almost immediately whisked away to private mentor to learn the ways of flight. While she still spent most of meals, rec, and physical training time with other members of her cohort, Lena was gone for a majority of her time in the academy, off practicing flight maneuvers, running practice missions, and learning the laws of the air.

She was often not where she was supposed to be. During team rucks, Lena's footprints would be miles ahead of the others, finding peace in the way her soles slapped the ground. During rec times, instead of playing video games or wrestling with the other recruits, she could be found studying the night sky, running, or otherwise filling her time with things she found more important. While it seems like this would isolate her, Lena had many friends within the cohort. Just those, maybe, who didn't get the opportunity to see her all the time.

Finally, it was during one last display that she officially earned her nickname. As a graduating member of the Royal Air Force academy, Lena brainstormed a final prank to leave the academy a living legend. Recruiting a team of five of her most trusted comrades, Lena and the team carefully peeled 300 hundred russet potatoes and released them down the grand staircase of the Royal Air Force Academy. When the group was chased down for the subsequent punishment, Lena was nowhere to be found. Plausible deniability and loyal friends who didn't speak of the mastermind to this plan led to her eventual escape scot-free.

One member of the commanding ranks, after giving up on his pursuit, expressly complained in his thick Manchester accent that:

"There's no trace o' 'er."

Tracer became her namesake.

And just like in flight school, Lena comes and goes at will. When you least expect it, she'll be there, by your side. When the going gets tough, she'll do whatever it takes to get you, your team, or anyone else out without a trace. She's in and out faster than anyone can perceive at times, a force for good bowling into anything that threatened that which she loved.

You won't see her until she's behind you, whether that be on ground or in the air. There's no trace of her as she disappears, slipping into the Timeline or into the air faster than you can process what happened. It makes her deadly on the battlefield, a valiant hero too, drawing fire or attacking hard to get enemies with the support of her Blinks and Recalls.

It also makes her fantastic at pranks. You've been warned.

[susspirria]

Title: milk and honey

Summary: Some nights, the really rough ones, Bruce just needs a little mothering.

Pairing: Edward Nygma/Bruce Wayne

Fandom: The Batman (2022), Batman - All media Types

Relevant Tags:

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

The first time it happens, it’s all Scarecrow’s fault.

Bruce had come home from patrol reeking of fear after he had been dosed with fear toxin. Bruce had been erratic and angry, his eyes had wildly darted around as he searched the room for whoever was terrifying him so.

When he had set eyes on Edward, standing there in his night gown with a nervous expression spread across his face, he had relaxed a little. “Mama?” He asked, and before Edward could process that he reached forward and buried his face in Edward’s chest.

The only thing that Edward could really do was run his fingers through Bruce’s hair and murmur, “It’s okay, Bruce, Mama loves you. Mama is here.” as Bruce led him back to bed. The alpha had kept Edward bound to the bed with his body that whole night, gently suckling on the omega’s breasts to coax milk from them while Edward cooed at him and told him how much he loved him.

Edward had no idea what was going through Bruce’s head, other than the fact that it must have something to do with his parents murder. He’s not really sure if he’s doing the right thing, but Bruce seems comforted by laying at Edward’s breast and drinking up his milk like a particularly needy pup.

The thing is, Bruce is rarely ever vulnerable like this. He’s usually the picture of a perfectly dependable, strong alpha. He’s tough as nails and spends his nights patrolling Gotham to keep the city safe. He’s always there for Edward to lean on when he needs him and he’s always so reserved that it’s easy for Edward to forget that he gets vulnerable too. That sometimes he needs someone too.

And Bruce is always taking care of Edward. He’s always there to make him feel safe and secure. Bruce is so very good to him, better than he has to be. After the toxin finally wears off and Bruce is back to his normal self again, Edward promises himself that he’s going to be there for Bruce whenever he needs him like this again. He’s going to be a good mate, someone that Bruce can depend on just like he depends on Bruce so often.

They don’t really talk about what happened. Neither of them really knows how to broach the subject, so they just leave it as one of those things that gets implied but never spoken about. But it does happen again. Only this time, neither of them have the excuse of Bruce being dosed by fear toxin.

****

Edward lay in bed, sleeping fitfully. He had his nightie rucked up over his legs and his thighs spread wide to compensate for the lack of another warm body laying beside him. He was having such trouble sleeping that night that all it took was the gentle sound of a door opening for his eyes to shoot open.

He slowly leaned forward, moving into a sitting position as he looked towards the source of the noise. His alpha stood nervously, which was an expression that he Edward did not often see on him. “Mama?” He asked tentatively.

Edward’s expression immediately gentled, tender with affection for his alpha in such a vulnerable state. “Yes, baby, mama’s here.” He says sweetly and holds his arms out. “Come here, baby.” He beckons and that’s all the permission that Bruce needs to move onto the bed and crawl into Edward’s arms.

Bruce’s hands slide over his shoulders and move to pull down the spaghetti thin straps of his night gown. Edward gasps as his tits fall out of the flimsy confines of the gown and, his body sensing that it was in need of it, a bit of milk dribbles out of his nipples.

He had always had over-productive milking glands and for the longest time it had been the bane of his existence. It was embarrassing, the way his tits would start leaking at the slightest provocation. Even as he had grown, he had never gotten a good handle on controlling it. He had hated it, felt like it was something wrong with him.

Bruce disagreed. He remembered how Bruce had pulled his top down and kneaded his tits until they were dribbling with milk. “Do you know why your body does this?” He had asked, as he licked it up. Edward had shaken his head, he had no idea. “It’s because your so giving. You’re so giving and good that your body naturally provides for the pups and alphas around you. You’re such a good little omega, Edward.”

Edward’s heart had soared when Bruce told him that, that he believed he was good and giving and kind despite all the things that he had done and everything that he had been through. Suddenly he hated the way his body reacted a lot less.

His attention turned back towards Bruce, who was lapping at his leaking tits. He looked almost innocent like this. Much more innocent than he knew Bruce to be, anyways. “I missed you, mama.” He mumbled into Edward’s breasts. Edward didn’t know exactly what he meant by that. He didn’t care to ask, he just ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair and gently hummed. “Missed you so much. Love you.”

Declarations of love from Bruce didn’t often come so easy – he usually expressed his love with actions, by showing Edward how much he cared about him and that was more than good enough for him. But hearing him say it out loud made butterflies fly around in his tummy. Bruce was… more open when he was like this. Edward tried to savor it when he could.

Bruce continued to suckle on his tit, drinking every drop of milk that spilled from it. The alphas hand moved in between his thighs, he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little surprised squeak as Bruce parted the lips of his cunt with an almost child-like curiosity. “You’re so warm, mama.” then his disposition got a little nervous. “Can I touch you, mama? Please?” He asked with a boyish sort of tenderness, as if Bruce couldn’t just take what he wanted. No, right now he had to ask nicely.

Sometimes when Bruce got like this, he was forceful. He would push his way between Edward’s thighs and rut into him with boyish enthusiasm and if Edward tried to guide him at all he would push him down and take what he wanted. But sometimes he was sweet and almost shy. Tonight was shaping up to be one of the nights where Bruce was sweet.

Edward let out a soft giggle, “You’re already touching me, honey.” He reminded, not unkindly. Bruce didn’t usually bother to ask, so much as grab Edward and position him just how he liked him. Not that Edward minded, it gave him a little thrill knowing he had such a strong and capable alpha. It satisfied some primal thing inside of him, the way that Bruce could easily manhandle even though he wasn’t the stereotypical petite omega. He was tall and plump, but Bruce could handle him as though he was tiny and breakable.

“Inside.” Bruce replied, sounding just the tad bit frustrated. “I want to touch inside.” He stressed.

In response to that, Edward spread his legs a little wider. He didn’t want to be mean to his alpha, not when he was so vulnerable and needy. “Okay.” Edward said in a small voice as he spread his thighs wide, almost in a spread eagle position. He was sitting up now, leaning back casually. “You can touch, baby. You can touch all you like. You can do whatever you want with mama, because you’re such a good boy.” He hummed sweetly.

That was all the permission that Bruce needed to dive forward and stuff his fingers in Edward’s cunt. Edward let out a little gasp at the sudden rough treatment, shivering in delight as Bruce’s fingers brushed over his swollen clit. “So wet and warm, mama.” The alpha marveled in a low voice before leaning in to kiss him.

They kissed and kissed, as Bruce’s fingers thrust inside of Edward’s cunt at a rough pace. They were fucking into him frantically, with clumsy and imprecise movements – but Edward found he liked it, he liked the desperation of it all.

It didn’t take long for Edward to cum with a little whine. “That’s good, baby, so good. Mama loves you so much.” He says breathlessly. The next thing he knows, he’s being flipped over onto his hands and knees.

“Gonna put a baby in you, Mama.” Bruce grunted in his ear as his cock slowly slid inside of him. Edward’s pussy clenched down on nothing in response to the words, slick dripping out of him. Bruce’s hand moved to cup the spot where his womb. “Gonna fill you up.”

“Y-yeah?” Edward replied as Bruce’s cock breached his cunt, filling him right up. “You want a little brother or sister to spend time with?” He asked breathlessly. Bruce slammed into him and he moaned desperately, throwing his head back. “I can- fuck! - I can give that to you, I will. B-because… because I love you so much.”

Bruce fucked him at a rough, almost punishing pace. The hand that wasn’t cradling Edward’s womb had a grip on his hair and pulled it hard enough so that Edward had to keep his head thrown back. Moans tumbled from the omegas mouth as he was fucked good and hard.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, so good.” He babbled drunkenly. “So good, keep going baby. Just- ah! - just like that.” He let out a little whine as Bruce’s hips snapped deep, deep inside of him. The alpha gripped him so hard by the hair that he was pulled up. Then he bit down on his bonding gland and Edward was flooded with a well of happy chemicals as the bond was reinforced.

Edward let out a litany of mindless noises, too fucked out to speak as Bruce’s rhythm sped up and became erratic. He was close and Edward was close too. It was only natural that they came at the same time. The two of them collapsed on each other, exhausted by everything that they had done. Bruce held Edward tight as his knot filled up and locked them together. He pressed kisses all over Edward’s shoulders as the omega drifted off to sleep.

*****

The next morning, Edward is woken up to light streaming in from the lovely skylight that framed his and Bruce’s bedroom. He whined and squinted his eyes before he burrowed his face into Bruce’s chest. Bruce was holding him securely in his strong arms, he felt so safe in those arms that he couldn’t help but let out an omegan purr at the feeling of being held so securely by his alpha.

He heard a soft grunt as Bruce stirred, his eyes slowly opening as he woke. “Mm, morning.” He murmured as he pressed a kiss to Edward’s cheek. Edward smiled up at him and reached up for a kiss that the two of them shared. It was slow and sweet as they savored the taste of one another.

“Morning.” Edward chirped back and then he grimaced as he looked down. “We never cleaned up. Gross.” He said and wrinkled his nose.

“We should wash up.” Bruce agreed, “Alfred will change the sheets while we bathe.” He says and gently encourages Edward to his feet. Edward huffed a little at that, he was still getting used to having someone like Alfred around. He was used to cleaning up his own messes and even though both Alfred and Bruce were clear about the fact that Alfred didn’t mind doing his job he still worried that he would make a nuisance of himself.

“Okay.” Edward said in a tiny little voice, allowing Bruce to help him to his feet. He always felt a little weary and lightheaded in the mornings, luckily Bruce was prepared to deal with that. He gently led Edward to their bathroom and had him sit on the toilet as he drew the bath.

Their bathtub was huge, the first time that Edward had bathed in it he thought he would get lost in it. It comfortably seated the both of them and could probably house another without any trouble. “Can you add bubbles? Oh! And that lavender oil…” Edward suggested hopefully.

Bruce chuckled at that, “Any other requests?” He asked in a somewhat joking manner.

Edward hummed in thought, “Can I have another kiss?” He asked sweetly. Bruce was happy to oblige him that. The two of them settled in the bath when it was ready, joined by an over generous amount of bubble bath and soft bath oils that relaxed them both even more.

Edward sat in Bruce’s lap as he gently washed Bruce’s hair, his fingers slowly brushing out the dark locks before lathering up his hands with Bruce’s shampoo and massaging them against his alphas scalp. Bruce hummed in pleasure at the feeling of being doted upon.

The scent of neutrally scented soap filled the room, aided by the steam that was floating in the air around them. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Edward started nervously, because he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to bring this up. “Did something happen last night? Do you want to talk about it?” He asked as he gently poured water over Bruce’s head to rinse away the shampoo.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked, allowing the omega to touch and coddle him all he liked.

“Well, it’s just… you know sometimes you need a little… mothering.” Edward replied awkwardly, “Which is totally fine! I’m happy to do that for you when you need it and honestly it makes me feel so good that you trust me enough to be vulnerable like that.” He rambled, seemingly unable to get himself to shut up. “I just, usually when you are… it’s because you need it and you know I usually don’t ask but I was just wondering if something triggered it? It didn’t seem like you had any issues with the usual rogues. Did something happen?”

Bruce let out a sigh, “Well, you could say that. It was um, the anniversary of my parents death.” He explained. Edward’s shoulders sagged in response to that and he threw his arms around Bruce in a loose hug. The alpha let out an amused snort and hugged Edward back. The omega could be so dramatic sometimes.

“Oh Bruce.” He mumbled into the alphas skin.

“It’s alright. I’m fine now.”

“I’m so sorry. I totally forgot!”

“It’s okay.”

“I should have remembered though, its a significant date.” Edward argued, obviously feeling not up to par as an omega.

“I didn’t want you to remember. I didn’t want to remember it myself.” Bruce explained quietly. “I thought I could get over it. Move past it, at least the day.” He would never truly get over his parents death, it would always be something that haunted him. He coped with his vigilantism, with his work on improving Gotham, but he knew he would never truly move past their murder. He thought he could at least not acknowledge the anniversary though, he didn’t even want to. He’d rather cast the whole day from his memory, all it did was make him feel miserable.

Edward smiled at Bruce sadly, “Bruce, you know that’s not how trauma works.” He gently chided as he stroked the alphas cheek. “How many times have you told me that? More than once, I’d wager.”

“I know.” Bruce murmured. “I was being stupid. I thought I could just compartmentalize it, I don’t know, put everything into my patrol but once the night ended…”

“You needed me.” Edward replied understandingly. They didn’t usually talk about this sort of thing, it usually went unsaid. The two of them gently washed each other, alpha and omega pampering each other with kisses and soft touches the whole time.

It was nice to be needed, Edward thought as they dried each other off. It was nice knowing that Bruce needed him just as he needed Bruce.

[unsoundedcomic]

How strong are Ruck's scales and softer bits? Would a well placed spear be able to significantly hurt him or does he need essentially a small army to be truly threatened?

The big brown plates on him? Hard as diamond. They're First Carbon, or First Scale. Primitive man used to harvest them and fashion them into badass armour. Ruck's orange flesh? Tough but not impenetrable. Efheby are very hearty creatures though, you have to cut their head off to really kill them or they can heal from damn near anything. They have several hearts and can go days without breathing.