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moondropstash · 5 months

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Another WIP! Bigger this time, part of a larger project I hope to pick up again after the holidays.

SFW/only suggestive here in this chunk.

~2200 words, Moon x reader. No particular content warnings necessary! What about that hypnosis function, huh Moon? :)c

° • ¤ ☆ ¤ • °

You’re good at your job - or so you thought.

Sure, ok, it’s not usually much of a job. There’s a 90% chance you’re only in the daycare for the benefit of the parents since Sun and Moon have this place on lock, but you’re not completely useless. You help. You pass out snacks. You clean up glitter (so much glitter). You spelunk into the depths of the ball pit after lost plushes and shoes while Sun comforts the wailing child, and emerge like a hero with your spoils. And after months, Moon finally let you help with naptime.

He watches you like you’re handling a bomb instead of little Sydney’s favorite pillow, but at least he lets you out from behind the desk now.

And you thought you were getting pretty good at it. There’s only one Moon after all, and sometimes there’s more than one really fussy kid. Most times, really. But goddamn. After the dozenth time watching Moon lull a screeching demon child to sleep in under a minute flat, upon whom all your efforts had been for naught, you finally snap.

You drop down next to him on the plush tiles on the outskirts of the nap area, leveling your most determined stare at him as he twists his head towards you with a jingle and a questioning flicker of his optics.

“Ok man. Spill.”

His face clicks to the side, his nearly ever-present grin growing wider. Your eyes narrow.

“Spill what?”

“How you do that,” you whisper-yell, leaning into his bubble and waving towards the slumbering angel a dozen feet away that had been hell-bent on ripping out your hair minutes before. “That kid was out for blood and then you pick them up and wham! Out like a light - and don’t you dare say magic!”

“But I am.” Slowly, with a series of purposefully loud snaps and clacks, he twists his frame at the waist to align his upper half towards you while his legs stay placidly crossed, his faceplate spinning once as you scoff. Maybe that would get a rise out of your coworkers, but you don’t spend months around these two contortionists and not get innoculated to a few uncanny angles. With a hissed chuckle and unmistakable smugness, he wiggles his fingers. “Metal - and magic.”

“Bullshit,” you spit with mock venom, Moon giggling as the two of you lean ever closer. With a grin near as wide as his, you jab a finger against his chassis. “I have scrubbed glitter glue, paint, and substances unknown to mankind off every inch of you and I haven’t seen a single sketchy rune or magic crystal.”

Moon cackles low in his voicebox, swaying and jingling with each poke of your finger before he raises his own, claws extending with a crisp snk and tut-tuts back with a sharp claw. “Not looking close enough.”

You blow a raspberry back at him, swatting at his hand with a smirk as it silently dances out of reach.

The claws bothered you when you first started. The idea of giving the childcare robot literal razors in his hands was dumbfounding - seeing Sun pop them out to open boxes even more so - but after looking at the Glamrocks, now you just figure the designer has a thing. You’re not paid enough to ponder what kinks the artist has, after all, and there’s only so many times a person can have knives laid across their shoulders and still work up a fuss. And, frankly, if an hour of your shift goes by without either of these two not slipping a hand across your arm or leaning on you or touching you somehow, you’d think they were broken.

That’s probably your fault.

You’ve always been tactile, and then they gave you coworkers starved for touch. What little remained of your personal bubble died within the week. What kind of monster would refuse Sun a hug, or tell Moon to stop draping across them like an oversized cat? Not you.

Doesn’t hurt that it’s fun.

Moon’s eyes gleam bright, playful crimson as you lean even further into his space, dragging your other hand up his chest plating. Slowly. Following the seam of black and white, skittering the edges of his buttons with dull nails. You feel his claws settle across your thighs, points pricking just enough to remind you of their presence.

There’s a moment of quiet. The two of you, watching each other with mirror grins, fingers dancing across metal and fabric. Then your hand darts up, grabbing his neck ruffles and yank him even closer.

His bells jostle, jingling sharply, and you laugh silently in triumph. Barely two inches separate your faces now, his lanky form bent towards you like a willow branch. This close, you can see every chip and irregularity in his paint. The way his optics tremble in repressed delight, the red light that floods your vision flickering-stuttering in brightness as he hisses a near silent giggle, face twisting and clicking to the side until his gleaming teeth nearly touch your skin.

Snap-snap.

He clacks sharp teeth together twice, his large hands resting heavy on your thighs. Just enough for his claws to teeter at the edge of painful on your flesh; maybe enough to draw pin-pricks of blood. You’ll find out later.

You ignore his little show.

Instead, you make a slow, obvious job of looking him over. Scrutinizing every inch of his plating - ah, hell, that paint’s going to suck to scrub off later - until, finally, you close the distance between you, resting your forehead against his own with a smirk.

“Is this close enough?”

Moon cackles. Your hand releases his ruffles to slip around his shoulders, muffling your own laughter as he bonks his head against your own. It’s no surprise when his claws slip free, ghosting up your back to pull you close like a plush and drag you both into a sprawl on the ground, his shoulders propped up against a squashy, ancient beanbag to keep his loop from jamming into the floor. You rest your chin on his chassis, the two of you sparing a moment to glance at the snoozing kids. All good. No stirring, no fussing.

It’s a fine line to toe - goofing off with Moon, but quiet enough to not cause a disturbance. His eyes scan the room a moment longer than yours do, but once they’re back on you, you knock softly on his plating with your knuckles.

“No, but seriously Moon. I’m feeling inadequate here. Unable to equal your mechanical superiority etcetera. Can I have like, a tip? Pretty please?”

He hums. Low and slow, making sure you feel the hum of his mechanisms working away below you inside his shell, before he lifts away his hands from your back and raises a claw to his grin.

“It’s a secret.”

Before your retort makes it past your tongue, his claw rests carefully against your lips.

“Shh,” he hisses, barely audible. His eyes flick to his other hand and your own follow silently.

It’s raised. His fingers waggle at you before he twists his wrist strangely - and one of the bells on his wrist tumbles down, suspended on the length of ribbon. You raise an eyebrow at him, only for his claw to hook under your chin and turn you back to the hanging bell.

The dim neon star-lights of the darkened daycare glisten across its surface. Brassy and flawless, it hangs limply until Moon slowly twitches his wrist and it begins to swing.

Back. And forth.

As steady as a metronome, a deep sea of stars glitters on the metal.

And then he closes his claws around it with a low laugh.

You blink.

“Feeling sleepy?”

His words slide off you at first, before they hit you like a truck and you gape at him, Moon giggling and terribly pleased with himself as he tugs the bell and ribbon back into place on his wrist.

“No.”

“Magic.”

You have to bite down your words, remembering at the last second that there’s two dozen kids sleeping a few feet away and huffing out the yell you’d wanted to spit at him with a smack against his plating.

“Moon, I can accept the ‘melatonin’ candies but are you selling me snake oil now? Hypnotism?”

His face spins a circle, hat jingling against the beanbag as he resettles his hands on your back.

“Unofficial function,” he says, claws dancing a smug jig across your skin.

That stops your retort. The claws are an unofficial feature. Unlisted and unreviewed, included for nebulous reasons. And now - hypnotism. Assuming he’s not just fucking with you. You prop your chin up on your arm, frowning.

“You being serious, Moondrop?”

He makes a vague hum, preoccupied with dragging a finger down your spine. You chew on the idea, but disbelief is definitely winning out. Hypnotism’s the kind of shit your friend’s weird aunt is into; the one who thinks placing quartz chunks in specific spots around her house ‘drains the negative energies’ of her neighborhood. You straighten Moon’s ruffles as you mull it over, before tugging them once more to pull his attention back to your face.

“I’d notice if you were doing that though. That whole. Pendulum thing? That’s not subtle.”

“Not the only way.” He pauses. “Don’t use it often. Only when they’re being… very naughty.” His voice edges deeper for emphasis, one arm wrapping around you to squeeze you like a plush.

“Isn’t that kind of… I dunno, dangerous?”

“Maybe. Sunny doesn’t like it.”

“Can Sun-”

Moon cuts you off with a sharp snicker. “Never tried. Says it’s cheating.”

“Because it is! I’ve been trying to just talk and soothe them but you’re like,” you pause, lowering your volume as Moon’s eyes flicker brighter, his grip tighter in warning. “I don’t know. How are you doing it, if not the uh… The trick with the bell?”

Moon cocks his head at you. His frame whirrs under you, fingers tap-tapping across your ribs before he silently brings a hand up and slowly draws the dull side of one his claws over the soft skin beneath your eye. And then - tap-taps - at your temple.

“I look,” he murmurs. “They look back. I send them off to dreamland.” His hand dances away from your face, miming sparkles with a cheerful jingling of his bells.

You frown, silently resting your face against his plating as you think.

Eye contact, then. That’d… be subtle enough. You guess it’s useful, if it’s true. You drum your fingers on him, before you flick your gaze back to his. It’s only then you notice his hands are still on your sides, his usual fidgeting and petting paused as he stares back at you, eyes shrunken down to sharp red pupils.

You’ve seen that look before. Always when Sun and Moon get… nervy. When you admit that something can’t be fixed with a screwdriver and a wet washcloth, and the specter of the place none of you mention by name hovers in the room.

You soothe your hand across the line of his chest, tweaking the bell of his hat where it sits draped over his shoulder.

“Are you supposed to tell me this, Moon?”

The single twitch of his face in answer tells you all you need to know. You exhale. Right. You’re just gonna chalk this one up in the ‘the designer is into some weird shit’ category.

“Well,” you begin, pushing a grin back onto your face. “Now you’ve said that, you’ve obviously gotta prove it.”

His optics widen back to bright seas of red in an instant. His arm squeezes you tight, fans whirring fast - before he pushes your face down against his plating.

“No.”

You squirm, smacking at his hand on your head before he finally lets you up for air with a wicked snicker. Perched on him, you reach to catch the edge of his faceplate, only for him to avoid your efforts like a stubborn cat.

“Come on Moony~ Give me some sweet, sweet dreams. Don’t you want me to shut up for a bit?”

Moon spins his face, angled away from you with another giggle, and oozes further up onto the beanbag as you paw after him - though he does pause. You can see his pupil on you at the edge of his eye before he raises a hand, tapping thoughtfully at his chin.

“Hmm. Tempting.”

“That’s right! I’ve been very naughty-” You voice edges into a poor imitation of his own, and you experience a brief moment of triumph as he trembles with repressed laughter before you both hear the sounds of fussing from the nap circle.

You’re unsure if you got too loud, but it doesn’t matter. The two of you peel yourselves apart without a word, slipping back into work mode in an instant. One fussy kid leads to another, and the two of you quickly sink into a familiar rhythm: Moon stalking close to the loudest fussers, his music box chiming away and voice low, as you help settle blankets and plushes and pillows with soothing smiles and careful hands. Sometimes you hum along with Moon’s song, nonsense words on your lips, and sometimes you reach for a misplaced plush only for Moon to press it into your hands, his claws trailing naturally up your arm as he passes by.

By the time naptime ends, the lights flickering on and Moon shifts back into Sun, who immediately whips you up into a tight, whirling hug, you’ve all but forgotten what Moon told you.

After all, he was probably joking.

#chants hypno bot hypno bot #moon x reader #moon x y/n #cw suggestive #hypno kink is in the room but we're not fully acknowledging it yet #stash writing #they're just bein goofs in this section tbh #it ate my formatting but i am just gonna live with it #just know in your heart moon talks in italics #moondrop x reader #moon fnaf

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whump-thoughts · 1 year

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I am once again thinking about living weapon/guard dog whumpee's....

A living weapon whumpee who is just so extremely conditioned that they will not even sleep or eat if not given permission to do so by their master

A guard dog whumpee that is meant to be at their masters side at all times and also be alert to anyone that could be a threat to them but due to having spent so much time just trapped in a tiny and sound-proofed room being tortured for god knows how long, big crowds or even just like, multiple stimuli will cause them to have sensory overload

Living weapon whumpee that is legitimately terrifying, like they have and will kill at the command of their master and will obey the whims of them without any objections as well.

Multiple living weapon whumpee's! They are all deeply conditioned but also feel a very strong kinship towards each other, even if they cannot show it due to the conditioning

And how about their caretaker's?

A caretaker that is smaller and weaker than whumpee, being unable to carry or restraint them when necessary, yet still is determined to help them

A caretaker that is younger than whumpee and is both scared of and hesitant to help them!, whumpee being completely subservient to them does not calm their fear in the slightest

A caretaker that has given up on deconditioning whumpee, simple trying keeping them in a soothed passive state, where they don't harm others or themselves, but are not healed just using their own conditioning in a different way.

Idk man, sorry if something is written weirdly, it's 3 am and English is not my first language, hope ya thought these ideas were interesting at least.

#whump prompt #whump #living weapon whumpee #guard dog whumpee #multiple whumpees #conditioning #conditioned whumpee #bad caretaker #reluctant caretaker #ask to tag #pet whump #? i guess #once again. all the relationships between whumpee and caretaker in my whump prompts are non-romantic/platonic. idk i just dont like romance #oh also feel free to write stuff based on these. just tag me lol #martin's stash #<- tag for my posts. hi i am martin

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kagooleo · 1 year

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I did this one to celebrate Silver's bday back in 2021, a sonboy to me who deserves the world ;-;

#kagarts #rival silver #silver pokemon #trainer silver #pkmn #pkmn hgss #hgss #pkmn gsc #gsc #i think i've seen a lot of characterization of him that makes him like. edgy brooding and cynical #and yeah sure i half understand that given his whole story but i think a lot of ppl miss the whole like. growth part of his arc #learning to care not just for people that genuinely support him but his own team as well #competitive mindsets are temporary; love is forever to your team and your friends #but i think he can be a little rascal as a treat (a trait he totally didn't get from the rest of the quartet lmao)#don't enable me i could write an essay about him but i'm a full time student #character development good i definitely don't have a ton of headcanons stashed away with friends somewhere

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klm-zoflorr · 3 months

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Okay, okay, so listen up:

Season 1 Jon listens to the tape Gertrude left for her remplacement

BUT that by itself is no fun. So since I cannot take anything seriously ever, lets introduce a complication where he is and will remain a skeptic for the next 4 seasons. Along with the OG archives crew. They see clear proof of the supernatural and shrug it off as "well, I don't have my glasses on/kind of foggy out there/i'm high/didn't take my meds/whatever those weird explanations s1 jon kept coming up with.

Nobody ever dies, Sasha escapes the not-them on virtue of being the coolest person around and doesn't stop a moment to think too hard on it

They see their boss holding a bloody pipe next to a corpse and go oh gee elias watch out theres a dead body behind you. He almost wants them to try and get him arrested.

When the time for the Unknowing comes Jon's just like, welp, time to go set up some C4 in a random wax museum as some form of domestic terrorism team building activity. He just thinks his WEIRD but not-supernatural-at-all job consists of standing around and go all the weird places Elias tells him to for no discernable reason.

Melanie is the only one who seems to be immune to this terminal brain rotting disease (well, except for all the other monsters). She keeps trying to convince them it's all real, stab Elias and save the world. They just treat her as another crackpot conspiracy theorist. It drives her up the absolute WALL and tbh it's starting to make Elias question his grasp on reality too because HOW ARE THEY THAT OBLIVIOUS IS THIS A PLAY WHAT IS THE TRICK

#please PLEASEEEE ASK ME ABOUT THIS I WILL LITERALLY KISS YOU #jonathan sims #tma #the magnus archives #magpod #sasha james #melanie king #elias bouchard #au #klm-zoflorr #writing #gertrude robinson #tim stoker #granny's secret stash

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andtheyreonfire · 1 year

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me when i see art of two people (and one is significantly bigger than the other)

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #i am. so tired lol #i wanna go to sleep but this is my free day so i should write but. :(#in other news i unearthed my stash of gee-tee-ish persona 5 content and i'll. get that up in a bit #gifs #animated #flashing lights

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dystopicjumpsuit · 6 months

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I Wish All Readers a Very Hunter Life Day

A/N: This is a gift for @captainpains for the @cloneficgiftexchange Life Day Exchange. Prompt (will be in BOLD RED): "I know I love you and all, but you are really making this really hard for me!"

Pairing: Hunter x Reader (Fem; has hair)

Rating: M (minors DNI)

Wordcount: 2K

Warnings and tags: a minor guilt trip; light Life Day angst with a happy ending; Hunter is in his fratboy era; SMUT; hair pulling; oral sex; rough sex; biting; marking; dirty talk; praise kink; glove kink; armor kink; protected PIV (Reader is on space birth control/STI protection); strong language; fluff

Summary: Hunter may be a bit of a Life Day Grinch, but that doesn’t stop him from distracting you when the war threatens to keep you from spending Life Day with your family.

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Hunter didn’t mean to eavesdrop. If anything, you dropped the eave on him. He stalked toward the Marauder, supplies in tow after a successful run to the open-air market on this Maker-forsaken backwater of a planet. As he approached the ship, his enhanced senses meant he couldn’t help overhearing your low, strained voice—or the fact that you were definitely crying.

“I wish I could be there, but there’s just no way,” you said.

“I just don’t want you to miss your nephew’s first Life Day, sweetie.”

The woman’s voice was unfamiliar, and Hunter slowed down, analyzing the situation.

“I know, Mom…” you sniffled a little bit. “I love you, but you are making this really hard for me. It’s not like I asked to be deployed to an active war zone.”

Hunter stopped in his tracks, frowning. He knew Life Day was coming up, but to be honest, he hadn’t thought much about it. It had always seemed more like a holiday for nat-borns, though he knew some of the regs had started to join in the celebrations since the war had broken out and they’d begun to interact with beings from other cultures.

It all seemed a bit excessive, if he was honest. A whole festival, just to celebrate family? He spent all his time with his brothers. He didn’t need to binge-watch Holomark Life Day flicks and decorate a kriffin’ tree, too—no matter how many times Wrecker asked.

But still. You were a nat-born, and for the first time, it occurred to him just how much of a strain it must be on you to be plunged into the chaos and peril of the battlefield without even having the comfort of your family close by. You’d never mentioned it, and he had never wondered why until now.

He walked up the ramp of the Marauder, stomping a little harder than necessary to give you ample warning that he was back, and he heard you hurriedly end the comm just before he entered the ship.

“Hey,” you said with a forced smile. “Supply run go okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” he grunted, dropping the crate and kicking off the lid.

“Where’s the rest of the squad?”

“Still out,” he replied, moving closer to you and raising his hand to your chin, tilting your face so he could inspect it. “You’ve been cryin’.”

Your eyes widened, and you pulled away. “No, I haven’t.”

He let you go, ignoring your blatant lie. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about,” you replied, dumping out the crate and beginning to stash the supplies in a cabinet.

He watched you silently for a moment, then crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on your face. “Wanna forget about it?”

You huffed an impatient laugh through your nose as you continued your work. “Why? Did you buy some kyrf while you were at the market?”

Hunter grimaced at your jab, remembering the particularly horrific after-effects of too many shots of kyrf liquor the last time the squad went to 79’s on shore leave. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“What, then?” You tossed the last of the supplies into the cabinet, then slammed the door and turned to him.

His dark eyes dropped to your lips. “I could distract you.”

You stared back at him in silence for a long beat. You couldn’t possibly have heard him right.

“What?” you asked blankly.

He smirked—damn his stupid, handsome face—and leaned closer to you. You resisted the urge to swallow when he did, knowing he’d hear you. Instead, you put on your grumpiest expression and deflected like a champ.

“I’m not playing sabacc with you again,” you said with a scowl. “You cheat.”

“I just notice your tells. That's not cheating.”

“It is when you have enhanced senses,” you retorted.

“Not like I can turn ‘em off,” he pointed out. “For example, right now, you have a tell.”

You raised your eyebrows but didn’t respond. He reached out and trailed his fingertips up the inside of your wrist, leaning close enough to whisper in your ear.

“Your heart is racing, little one.”

You yanked your wrist away from him. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His gaze filled with an intense heat as he stared into your eyes. His face was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “The others won’t be back for hours. It’s your call. Tell me to piss off, and I’ll go for a run and never touch you again. Or…”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you just knew the cocky son of a tube could hear it. Your voice sounded embarrassingly breathless as you echoed, “Or…”

“... or, you could let me take your mind off things.”

You forced yourself to breathe at a normal pace—maybe even too normal; who karking knew? Hunter, that’s who, you thought bitterly. He probably has the whole damned squad’s breathing patterns memorized. You considered his offer, not that it was easy to make a rational decision when he was standing so close to you, smelling goddamned delicious and looking even better.

Gods, his mouth is just. Right. There.

When you didn’t reply after a few moments, he asked, “I think we’ve been dancing around this long enough, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I guess we have.”

Duraplast armor made a surprisingly good handle as you grabbed him and pulled him against yourself. Your lips crashed together. His hands cupped your face and his fingers tangled in your hair as teeth and tongues clashed, your bodies coming together in a desperate, frantic embrace. Your hands scrambled and roamed over his armor as you searched for access that you simply couldn’t find.

You growled with frustration, and Hunter laughed quietly as he kissed his way across your jaw and down your throat. “Why the hurry, pretty girl? We’ve got time.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t gotten laid in as many months as me,” you muttered, fumbling at his crotchplate. “How the kriff does this thing work?!”

A telltale zipping sound alerted you to the fact that Hunter was having significantly more success in getting you out of your flightsuit. He tugged it down your shoulders and let it drop down your body, following its progress with his mouth. He reached your compression bra and yanked it off over your head. You had no idea where it landed as he flung it across the ship, but you hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to locate it later.

That’d be fun to explain to Crosshair, you thought with a slightly horrified shudder.

Any concerns you had about your missing undergarment fled your mind about half a second later. Hunter’s lips closed around your nipple, swirling his tongue as he squeezed and teased your other breast, the rough fabric of his glove providing a shockingly pleasurable abrasion. Your head fell backward to rest against the durasteel wall, a hoarse moan tearing from your throat.

Hunter responded immediately, scraping his teeth across your skin, then smoothing his warm tongue over the bite mark. You shivered at the sensation, and he dropped abruptly to his knees, gripping your ass in both hands as he pulled you hard against his face. His tongue slid into you as his lips pressed over your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured. “You’re delicious. And wet, holy kriff. So, so wet—”

Your legs nearly gave out, and you clutched his head for balance.

“Goddamn,” he hissed as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Pull it harder.”

You complied, tugging his hair firmly, and his eyes drifted blissfully closed as he leaned close and breathed in your scent. He flicked his tongue over your clit and back into you again and again, alternating between kissing and licking and sucking on your sensitive skin until your legs trembled. Distantly, you heard a clatter of plastoid on durasteel, and then he stood, spinning you around and pushing you forward to lean against the wall of the ship as he gripped your hips and pressed his knee between your thighs, urging them apart.

“Implant?” he asked hoarsely.

“Y—yes,” you confirmed, forcing your brain to focus on the question.

You felt his cock nudge between your thighs, and then he thrust into you, barely giving you time to adjust. His cuisses were cold as they pressed against your thighs, hard against your soft skin, and his hand snaked around your body to cup your breast as he pulled you upright and backward onto his chest. He held you upright as he thrust into you, and with his other hand, he slid his fingers over your cunt, massaging your clit and pressing against your mound firmly. He was still wearing his gloves, and the fabric felt unbelievable on your skin.

“You like it rough, don’t you, pretty girl?” he growled in your ear. “You like it when I use that perfect little pussy, don’t you, sweet thing?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your breath punching out of your lungs as he thrust particularly hard into you. “Fuck, yes—”

He sank his teeth into your shoulder abruptly, and your words cut off in a scream. He began to work his fingertips in tight, rapid circles over your clit as he kissed over your sore, abused skin. That’s definitely leaving a mark, you thought distantly, as a rush of fresh arousal flooded you.

“That’s right,” he murmured smoothly. “Just like that, good girl. Sweet little doll, taking my cock so well. Gonna come for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you groaned, feeling all the muscles in your center begin to tense.

“Use your words, little one,” he whispered, his breath teasing your neck and ear as his teeth closed softly on your earlobe.

“I am—I’m—FUCK!” You cried out loudly as your orgasm tore through you, pleasure exploding from the base of your spine and bursting through your body.

“That’s it, love,” he said, speeding up his pace. “Feels so good—so fuckin’ perfect, such a good girl—where do you want it, darlin’?”

“Inside,” you gasped.

“You sure?” he asked, his hips stuttering slightly as his hand suddenly clenched harder around your breast.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Fill me up.”

“Fu—ah, kriff!” he grunted, thrusting hard, and you felt heat flood your cunt as he spilled into you.

He pressed his hot, open mouth against your neck, sucking hard on your skin as he groaned loudly, clutching you hard against his rigid armor in an almost painfully tight embrace. Slowly, he loosened his grip, reaching out to lean his forearm against the wall in front of you for support.

“You all right?” he panted, kissing your head gently.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“Armor didn’t hurt?”

“No, it was actually kind of hot,” you replied. “I can’t lie, I was kind of hoping to see how far down your tattoo goes, though.”

He laughed quietly into your hair. “Who said we’re finished? I told you the squad wouldn’t be back for hours.”

Two weeks later, the Marauder lurched and dropped out of hyperspace. You glanced up from your datapad, curious.

“Are we back to Coruscant already? I thought we wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow.”

“We require an emergency stop for repairs,” Tech replied.

You looked out the viewport and gasped as you recognized a familiar sight. “Tech, this is my home planet!”

“That so?” A quiet, smoky voice sounded from close behind you. You turned to see Hunter leaning against the cockpit doorway, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“Unfortunately, it appears that every part supply shop in the system is closed to observe the final rotation of the Life Day celebration,” Tech said.

“Shame,” Hunter remarked. “Guess we’ll have to stick around at least until tomorrow.”

You stared at Hunter, and then at Tech, and finally out the viewport at the swirling atmosphere of your homeworld.

“Don’t suppose you know anywhere worth visiting in this system,” Wrecker said with a twinkle in his good eye as he joined you in the cockpit.

Your eyes stung with unexpected tears that you ruthlessly blinked back as you turned to look at your squad, who watched you with varying degrees of interest. Your heart squeezed.

“Yeah,” you replied at last. “How would you boys like to meet my other family?”

---

Want more Hunter x Reader? Check out this fluffy, slightly sexy first kiss ficlet.

#wrecker painstakingly hand-painted the ornaments in the dividers #he's a life day girlie #the reason hunter knows about holomark life day flicks is because wrecker binge watches them every year #the twinkle lights wrecker hung up in the gunner's mount when he turned it into omega's room were from his personal life day stash #clone fic gift exchange #LDE23 #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #the bad batch #star wars #bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfiction #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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litteredcorpses · 2 years

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lyrical development

#markiplier egos #iswm #ahwm yancy #yancy #artag #in space with markiplier #idk tags ugh #n e way lets talk bout how yancy writes and makes music please #i think it is a fun aspect of his character that is well known but very underused #i think he has a stash of pencils he chews on while thinkin up lyrics #had more sketches to go with this but i only liked this one lolol #also he makes all the outfits and dance moves too he does all of it #also also...i am proud of the coloring on this :-) okay gnight

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secret-citrus · 8 months

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Rotting brain alert: Betty wished for Simon to be kept safe, but Simon is actively trying to make himself the Ice King again to ensure the safety and magical status of Fionna and Cake's world, but Fionna and Cake's world was illegally created in his head, so by the rules Scarab is following Simon must be killed, but Golbetty will never sign off on that death warrant bc the express purpose of her existence right now is "keep Simon safe", but Scarab is doing all of this for selfish reasons (to take down Prismo over an old beef) so he's likely not going to take kindly to Golbetty saying he can't kill Simon to destroy the illegal universe, and ajfhdksahfkjlda LOOK AT ALL THIS SET-UP FOR A GREAT SEASON FINALE, OH MY G O D

#fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #scarab fionna and cake #Golbetty #simon petrikov #i really enjoy this show bc the writing is so smart and respects the audience #it never tries to fool you for a second on where the overarching plot is going #the twists are laid out in a way that's detectable but easily missed if you aren't paying attention #like the ice crown Fionna gave Simon! I thought she'd had that stashed away since Winter King totally missed it was Dead World's crown #Fionna's growth over the story has been so believable and really well-done!!!!#i love this series and i'm getting my hopes up really high for the finale to knock it out of the park #Scarab is going to continue being a bad guy n i can't wait to see his shit get wrecked

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paper-lilypie · 5 months

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You good Lily?

im 16 days into my 23-day trip abroad and I am straight up struggling bestie

#my sinuses hate me #my throat hates me #my lungs hate me #at least my stash of fanfiction has been peak ✨#and the writing juices have been flowing #but girl I am straight up dying ❤️#ask lily

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hlxtn · 7 months

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day 786361249757 of thinking about chicoree fics

#chicoree is my roman empire #nobody will understand #their writing shaped me into who i am today as a hq stan #actually they got me into mha for a sec too #a core memory is me holding my moots at gunpoint to read adore you #every other fic I KEPT TO MYSELF #like my secret stash of droogs #watch me be 80 and yap about this to my grandchildren #if chicoree has 10000 fans then im one of them #if chicoree has 1 fan then that's me #if chicoree has 0 fans then im dead #personal

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annoying-crow · 25 days

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my faves despise each other

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seaofgoldensand · 17 hours

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for you, i will take the blame.

rafayel x mc (they/them | GN reader)

wtf do i call this... a continuation from this drabble.

tw: major character death, mentions of stab wounds

because the elders are not so kind, allowing rafayel to die before watching the consequences of his actions be brought to life by his very own lover. no, they had made sure for him to turn into seafoam once they wake up from the spell. after every heart of the occupants of lemuria stopped. all but one. their beloved rafayel.

rafayel was not deceased yet, no. because the elders needed him to witness the horrific screams from the lemurians dying one-by-one.

it is my fault.

he thought and belived; weak in his position and unable to move. multiple stab wounds to the chest. he can still hear their laughter ringing in his ears his heart slowing to a stop. he was left in that room, the elders filing out shortly after speaking of lemuria's demise and his own.

he wanted everything to end. perhaps if he were to be brought into a new life, it would be different.surely, he wouldn't have to relive something similar again, right?

then, he heard them.

"rafayel! where are you?!"

the tone of their voice was different, it was soft laced with concern and panicked. rafayel could not speak much, the strain taking toll of his body and voice until with blurred vision, he sees his beloved. they came back. and he can't help but smile.

this. this is them. he knew of it.

they run to him, gathering him into their arms, spilling out apologies as if that would fix everything.

"rafayel! my lord, what happened? did i—was this my doing?!"

"it was not." rafayel's voice was raspy, his breathing harsh, but he spoke with certainty. "if anything... it is mine."

there are tears running down their face as they cradle his head against their chest and they shake their head. it couldn't be his fault. if that were the case, why was he on the floor with stab wounds displayed on his chest, what happened to the myth of lemurian blood saving and resurrecting people, was it just a hoax?

or had rafayel lost those attributes due to his betrayal?

if they hadn't been panicking now, they surely are at this second, the moment they realized rafayel was disappearing.

"w-what's happening? rafayel?! please. wait. you—you can't go! please... don't go."

with the little strength rafayel had, he raised his hand and rested it against their cheek, a pained, yet thankful smile appears on his face as he gently brushed his thumb against their cheek and perhaps it was because he had been able to see his lover awakened from the spell just one more time before he meets the darkness.

"it was never your fault, my beloved pearl. remember that... perhaps, we will meet again in the future."

and they squeeze him in their hold, despite his body gradually turning into seafoam until the last moment, when rafayel's body was no longer there, they fall to the ground and sob uncontrollably, curled into a fetal position, right where their lover once laid.

whalefall city fell dead silent that night, the bustle of the city and the chattering of the crowds gone like the rest of them. it became a ghost town of some sort and as years come to pass, the once lively capital of lemuria will surely be forgotten.

nothing but another myth to add to stories parents tell their children as a bedtime story, but none would ever know the true horrors of how a god fell in love with his human devotee and that, in itself, spelled another love story turned tragedy.

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