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#test subject prompt
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Break it First
Eddie watched and Eddie didn't do a thing. 
Because Eddie was weak. 
Eddie was a coward.
It's a good thing he's dead. 
(read the full thing here!)
Drawn for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 2 prompt Came Back Wrong.
Oh this was SO much fun to draw, I've had this particular scenario spinning in my head for a while now and thanks to the steddie holiday prompts I was able to put it to paper and see where it goes.
I was touched beyond words that @just-my-latest-hyperfixation liked this idea so much, that they not only wrote a whole new entry for this prompt when they already had a very very good one finished, but they continued to collaborate with me on countless more ideas!? How did I get so lucky?????
I'm so pumped for you all to see them, and make sure you go a read all of Hype's entries as they are posted over the following month!!!!
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jordanstrophe · 4 months
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Scientist caretaker captures a non-human whumpee in order to prove their species is real.
What they didn't anticipate was whumpee would be hauled off to be studied and experimented on in the name of science.
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urlocalwhumper · 1 month
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scientist caretaker finally gets a job at some obscure lab they've never heard of. maybe a bit worrying, but whatever, they're fresh out of school and need the job. their boss is also concerningly vague about what exactly they'll be doing, but once again, they need the job.
once they're all settled in, their boss takes them down to the testing chamber. caretaker is expecting to be experimenting on something like rats or bugs, but their boss flicks on the lights and oh my fucking god that is a whole ass living person
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blackrosesandwhump · 9 hours
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Whump Prompt 131
Write something inspired by this scene:
As caretaker rushes into the lab, the sight of whumpee laid out on the table stops them cold.
A large scalpel hovers over whumpee's chest, held in his own shaking hands.
"How--how did you get out of your cell?"
"I picked the lock." The tip of the scalpel lowers slightly, almost scraping his skin.
"You picked the... " caretaker repeats, disbelieving.
The blade lowers further, touching whumpee's bare chest. He leans his head back against the metal surface, face etched with desperation. A bead of blood grows and trickles down his ribs.
"I have to do this. Whumper won't want to experiment on me if I'm ruined."
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psyker-vitalsigns · 7 months
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"Careful with her! She's a rare specimen and needs to be handled gently."
"She's still unconscious. We can put her here. On the table, straps off. She won't need to be restrained, I imagine."
"Now go. I don't need you here."
"All alone, just you and me, hm? Let's get a look at those vitals."
"Heart rate looks good, nice and low with that sedation on board."
"Oxygen could be better, but not exactly worrisome."
"Blood pressure is perfect. You're perfect."
"Oh? Waking up are we? Easy, now, easy. I just need to press this little tool here and listen to that magnificent heart of yours."
"A little quiet at aortic. Beautifully loud at pulmonic. No, no no, ssh. Lie still."
"I know you're dizzy, but be still and it'll pass."
"Keep breathing normally. I'm almost done."
"Hm, was that a skip? Far too early for that. Behave yourself or I'll put you back under."
"Good. Good... Now we can really begin."
"Hm? My name? You can address me as sir or Doctor, is that understood?"
"Excellent. And I shall be addressing you as Subject or Item, do you understand? Nod if you do."
"Then let's start."
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“Used as Bait” Trope
Requested by @whumperofworlds​ | I like to see your take on the "used as bait" trope (basically, whumper kidnapping a whumpee as bait for whumpee's friends/team), with either your OCs, generic, or fanfiction, whichever you think fits best!
CONTENT WARNINGS: bad caretaker, manipulation, whumper turned caretaker, caretaker turned whumper, conditioned whumpee, reincarnation whump, test subject whumpee, restrained whumpee
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Action Prompts
[ breath ] - Whumpee is forced to hold their breath as they’re submerged in a clear box filled with water, and left out in the open.
[ house ] - Caretaker puts Whumpee in a safe house, but inadvertently leaving them without necessities. Essentially putting Whumpee in captivity under the false pretense of security from Whumper.
[ medicine ] - Whumpee is in the hospital, and Caretaker utilizes that fact to figure out who Whumper is, since they are a doctor who has been hurting patients.
[ repose ] - Whumpee is lying somewhere, anxious and tense, waiting for someone to save them from the elements. All they hope it won’t be Whumper.
[ wounded ] - Whumpee is hurt and limping to safety. They leave a trail of blood that leads to where they are, and where they may be going.
[ simplicity ] - Whumpee is tied up to a chair in a warehouse, and is trying to stay still so they don’t tug on any strings that may jostle the bottle of acid above them.
Scenarios
Whumpee is tasked with acting as bait in Caretaker’s plan to apprehend Whumper, but the Caretaker is the only one who knows it is going to fail. Whumpee, assured that they’ll be fine, takes chance with false hope. But the entire thing doesn’t work because of Whumper discovering the plan beforehand.
^ You could have Caretaker forcing Whumpee to be bait too. Which makes Whumper telling Whumpee that Caretaker never cared for them in the first place; Caretaker was a selfish human being, maybe even worse than Whumper.
^ How Whumper stops the plan could be dark too; they kill Caretaker in an act of self-defense, and maybe their Whumpee is conditioned to believe that Whumper is the only person who cares about them.
Or maybe you have an Immortal Whumper and a Whumpee who frequently reincarnates. Whumpee is used often as bait to lure out Whumper’s enemies, and Whumper convinces every reincarnation of Whumpee that what they are doing is for good. Every reincarnation is basically Whumpee getting a renewed body for Whumper to break in many ways. Maybe Whumper has favorite methods of making Whumpee bait too.
^ You could also have Whumpee being different in every reincarnation. In one, they are feisty, defiant, and reckless. Whumper gets to punish them every time they deviate from the plan. But in another, Whumpee is more compliant, easy to break, but incredibly pain tolerant. Whumper gets to have longer punishment sessions if this version of Whumpee disobeys.
^ Maybe in one time, Whumper conditions Whumpee to see it as a good use of their life. And they hold onto that hope that the next life may be better without pain, and Whumper may or may not just mock that very belief.
Maybe in an effort to figure out Whumper’s plans to recapture Whumpee, Caretaker decides to test some things just in case. Only issue is, Whumpee is the only one who knows Whumper well enough. Caretaker decides to do tests on Whumpee, like putting them outside for long hours of time, restraining them in positions that makes it hard to escape, and so on. Whumpee protests, of course, but Caretaker simply says its for both of their safety. Maybe Whumpee realizes that Caretaker is worse than Whumper too. Then later on, Caretaker indirectly helps Whumper and makes their work easier than harder.
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Feel free to use these prompts! Make sure to credit me if using, and use the tag #coffee prompts so I can see what you make!
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bonestrouslingbones · 3 months
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AND WHAT IF I GOT A WHOLE NEW CUSTOM DESKTOP THEME FOR EBONY HUH......WHAT THEN
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whump-a-la-mode · 2 years
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I just read the Signal Prologue aka Wind Tunnel and I was thinking... Are there more humans who suddenly sprouted wings and are held hostage by the scientists? It's not just Signal? Imagine if Dr. Sampson got a new winged human lab rat because Signal's wings were mutilated because they sticked needles in them. What will Dr. Sampson do now with her "broken" lab rat? Will she keep her because she wants to take samples from them? Will she chop of their wings all together and let them go(highly unlikely) OR will the other scientists suggest euthanazation. MAYBE the new lab rat and Signal can become friends since they are both stuck in this horrible situation.
Oh, I absolutely ADORE this idea, I hope you don’t mind that I kind of ran with it. I think I managed to fit most of your ideas in, and I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the ask!
CW//Medical settings, medical whump, pet whump, dehumanization, wing whump, surgery talk, euthanasia talk
Signal was not sure whether or not they believed in hell, but whether or not it was real, they already knew exactly what it would be like: Exactly like the facility’s medical wing.
At the very least, for once in their life, they had some indication of time. A laminated calendar had been hung on one of the walls in their hospital room, a place for the constantly rotating cycle of white coats to make their notes. The more days got marked off, though, the more Signal feared that they would never be making it out of this place.
Was that it? They’d never leave here? Would they always be stuck in this hellhole?
That thought had stuck with them as they watched the little boxes being crossed off. One, two, three, four, then a whole work week. Saturday and Sunday gone as well. Would the medical staff really keep her longer than a week. And yet it kept going, and going.
Now, it was their second Sunday inside. Two whole weeks.
Everything about the medical wing was the very definition of hellish. For one, they were stuck in a blank, white room, from floor to ceiling. At the very least, in Doctor Sampson’s lab, they had their cage.
As much as they bemoaned it (because of course they did, they were a human being, locked in a cage), they now missed those wire bars. At the very least, they had a nice, padded floor, water whenever they wanted it, a hiding place, and, as much as they hated them, their toys.
Now, Signal had a blank, white room. They traced a line with their eyes from the ankle cuff they wore, along the chain it was attached to, and finally to the bedrail that the other cuff was locked around. Even in the few times that they’d dared to clamber off the bed, they’d found that they had barely a foot or two of room before the chain pulled them back.
It was far worse than the cage.
Yet, they couldn’t care less about the boredom, or the restriction. Signal was more than used to such indignities. It was the treatment that was hellish.
Every three hours, day or night, someone would come to check on them. A faceless nurse, checking their vital signs, testing their restraints, taking cheek swabs and blood samples from finger-pricks.
The worst part of it was their wings. Signal had thought that things could not possibly get worse for the abused, feathered limbs. Yet, as it turned out, the exoskeleton around them had a purpose other than keeping the wings uncomfortably stuck outwards.
No, they were meant to be twisted. Supposedly, in their panic, they had twisted their wings out of place, quite literally. Now... They needed to be twisted back.
Bit by bit. Every three hours.
Their wings, their agonized, sensitive wings... Even when they weren’t being bothered, they could hardly sleep with the pain. When they were, fragile bones twisted within a metal frame... Well, they weren’t proud to admit it, but they screamed.
Were they making progress? They had no idea. It didn’t matter, though, not at that point. Signal would rather be dead than endure one more twist.
They missed Doctor Sampson.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 
Seventeen days had been the final count. Seventeen checkmarks on the calendar. How many twists? How many in a day? Times seventeen... Signal had never been the best at math.
It didn’t matter.
Signal dragged themself up into a sitting position when the door to their hospital room opened that morning. They’d been bothered all throughout the night, of course. This was just one more visit. One more torturous session.
If that was the case, though, why was-
Signal hated the way that their face lit up at the appearance of Doctor Sampson. It was disgusting, really, to think that they were so absolutely overjoyed to be trading one torturer for another. Yet, they couldn’t help the glee, which was only slightly hindered by the fact that Doctor Crane was trailing just behind her partner.
“Oh, Signal, sweetheart, how are you feeling?” Sampson’s face broke into a wide grin as she strode to their bedside. “You look so much better! I knew I was right to give you a chance.”
Give them a glance? That meant...
Signal didn’t want to think about the other option.
They cringed, but begrudgingly allowed Sampson to wrap her arms around them, squeezing them in an embrace. Gross.
“It’s still broken.” Doctor Crane commented as she approached, examining Signal like a cow up for auction. “What are we ever going to do with it?”
“Oh, I’m sure we can figure out something.” Doctor Sampson smiled back at her. “Just ‘cause it can’t fly doesn’t mean we can’t study the rest of the anatomy! Besides, what if the other one needs spare parts? It’ll be good to have an extra around!”
Spare parts? An extra?
Signal wasn’t sure they wanted to leave the medical wing anymore.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 
Of course, it wasn’t Signal’s choice. They were transported, as always, in the back of a van belonging to the facility, in a transport crate. They always fought the cage, and the leash that came after. Yet, this time, they simply couldn’t bring themself to.
Obediently, they allowed to leash to be clipped to their collar, and for Doctor Sampson to lead them inside. The lab was familiar, of course. Far more homey than the facility ever could be, though that wasn’t saying much.
They entered Doctor Sampson’s lab to the sound of a crash.
Signal’s gaze immediately shot to their cage, their wire-barred home.
Someone else was in it.
The cage had been split in two, a wire wall separating it in the middle. A second water dispenser had been added to the side that did not already have one.
Their home had been split in twain.
The source of the crash immediately became apparent as Doctor Sampson led Signal forth, towards the cage. The stranger, the strange person inside their home, stood up, slamming their hands into the mesh walls.
From their back extended a pair of fresh, undamaged wings.
Spare parts.
“Signal, meet your new roommate!” Doctor Sampson exclaimed as though it were something exciting. With that, she shoved them into their side of the cage, separated from this stranger now by only a barred wall.
At once, Signal no longer felt all so brave.
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If you’ve read this far, thank you! I have a little challenge for everyone reading: What should Signal’s new roommate be named? Comment on this post to let me know, thank you!
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kreidxprnz · 2 years
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kissing random people out of boredom to see their reaction. 
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starry-songs-canvas · 2 months
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Danny Chooses Violence(tm)
Sorry for the late prompt, hope y’all enjoy!
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Danny was this close to trying to figure out how to kill Vlad for good.
Ellie, his beloved, precious, freedom loving little gremlin of a sister, had been captured so that Vlad could find out how she hadn’t discorporated yet. Danny, being slightly paranoid, (Just like his father) had asked Ellie to wear a tracker to give him some piece of mind as she roamed, since he can’t join and the Fentons his parents might not take his, let alone her, existence all that well.
Thank ancients for that tracker, though, as Vlad was behaving more fruitloop-ish than usual. Going on about how he figured out that he needed more information, and he’s found the perfect test subject, blah, blah, blah. Pressing a button to reveal-
His brother.
His twin.
His other half.
Chained in the middle of a yet inactivated portal.
Vlad is so dead.
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Overlord Witch reader introduces Alastor to her “sisters” aka her coven. Like it’s a whole book club situation all the girls are witches in some way and they followed reader when they were alive. Talking about rituals and spells. Nobody is powerful than the og reader tho.
Oooo I love this ask! I'm assuming you want the overlord witch to be the reader from this fic? I might have deviated a bit from the prompt sorry. There is also now another fic with it, (now there is a third.) (Now a fourth)
Warnings: feminization of Alastor by calling him a doe??? Power imbalance in readers favor
Introducing Alastor to Your Witch Coven
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*You had decided to start a sort of book club/witch coven here in hell.
*And who better to pick than the lovely ladies that followed you when you were alive?
*They would all inquire how you had gained so much more raw power in so little time.
*You'd simply smile and sip your tea.
*Little did they know you made a deal with the literal devil, Lucifer Morningstar.
*About that deal- perhaps it would be fun to bring a certain Hazbin inhabitant to your coven.
*Alastor.
*Your precious little doe...
---
Alastor sat rigidly still in his seat. After you threatened invited him over, you pretty much left him to fend for himself as the ladies in your witch coven bombarded him with questions and poked at his deer traits.
You watch him with that amused smile he'd come to despise so thoroughly.
"Girls, girls, let's give our guest some space! Look at him, with those pinned back ears. The poor doe is frightened!" You cackle and the cackles of your friends follow soon after.
With an annoyed look in his eye, Alastor straightened his clothes and forced his ears up, "I'm not frightened. I am merely becoming aquatinted with all of these lovely friends of yours!" He brightly grins at the ladies of your coven.
"I see why you kept him, he's a charmer~!" A member of your coven giggled and whispered to you.
"And quite the looker!" Another witch added rather loudly.
"He'd be a wonderful test subject for a spell..." The witch to you left mumbled.
"Or ritual!" One cheered.
The deer demon shifted in discomfort.
"Don't let his fanciful words fool you, he'll run his mouth when he wants to." You pour Alastor a cup of tea, "But I'm teaching him his manners."
You slide the cup to him and he receives it gingerly.
"Thank you kindly." His smile strains further.
You bring up your cup to clink with his, then the two of you drink.
You know he'll get used to your coven as you bring him more often. After all, you've been in need of a lap dog for your stay in hell-
Well, doe.
---
A/N this isn't the part 2 to the previous overlord witch reader fic btw but I though people who wanted to be tagged would be interested :p
I'm also just gonna reply to people so they can see this bleh cause my tagging isn't working for some reason
@reinabxitch @lu-ferri12 @keepghostly
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jordanstrophe · 10 months
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Whumpee's strapped to a cold steel table with no room to struggle. Whumper holds a needle staring at them hungrily without hardly blinking.
"This won't kill you..." They say, flicking the mid of the needle.
"But depending on how much you struggle, it will hurt you."
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xiranjayzhao · 2 years
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Deleted my previous posts of AI-generated art because I got my mind changed and no longer want to glorify these generators but here are how my thoughts on them evolved as someone who commissions a LOT of art:
At first I felt so liberated because drawing is the one creative thing I can't do AT ALL, yet I have strong visions for a lot of genre-bending art ideas, which take a ton of references and effort to explain. I’ve always felt bad confusing the artists I commission. AI has been amazingly helpful in generating references, especially for the general vibes of an art piece. But I also came to the initial conclusion that it won’t replace human artists any time soon, because it’s still impossible to get the AI to generate super specific compositions. It's especially bad with prepositions and handling multiple subjects at once. Therefore, I haven't abandoned any of my commission plans just because AI art is available.
I realized this attitude is pretty specific to me though, because I have set character designs in mind. But what if a publisher or something just needed a generic character design to slap on a cover? I tested the limits of the AI by telling it to generate a "YA fantasy book cover by [popular cover artist]" The AI is wonky with faces and limbs, yes, but by generating variations and doing upscales over and over, I got some renders that look ready to be slapped on a book:
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Some of you can probably recognize exactly which artist I put into the prompt (not naming her because I don’t want to encourage others to do this). Now what is stopping a big publisher from generating art bred from her style instead of hiring her? Nothing except $600 a year. That's how much the corporate license for this AI costs, with “corporation” defined as having a revenue of over 1 million per year. And it’s an OPEN commercial use license. They say all paid members ($10 - $50 per month) “own” any asset they generate.
After talking to many of my artist friends, I now think these loose usage terms are pretty dangerous when artists are already systematically devalued and struggle with art theft and industries that cut corners whenever they can. People talk a lot about how AI sucks at faces and limbs, but what about non-portrait artists? I think environmental artists, background artists, concept artists, and especially artists who do surreal horror type stuff are most at risk of losing jobs to AI, even though it's THEIR WORK that's being fed into the AI to generate renders. There needs to be more transparency about where the images being fed into the AI are coming from, and options to limit the pool to only creative commons images or something. That or ban all commercial use, or we're really gonna get AI generated book covers and other shit.
Right now, I think the AI user community also fosters unhealthy entitlement to art. I've seen people complain about the $30 tier not having enough Fast generation hours - you're already getting hundreds of art pieces by typing a few words, and you're COMPLAINING about a price tag that low because there’s a limit on how quickly you can get them??
These are not people who would pay a human artist the rate they deserve for their work. And honestly, I have no faith that big companies will keep paying artists fair wages when they can just buy a $600 per year license for unlimited assets to use for their million dollar projects.
In conclusion, I think AI art generators are a powerful tool and can be fun to play with, but regulations on commercial use need to come down real soon, or artist wages will decrease across industries as companies hold this hostage over artists' heads.
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eyecandyeoz · 2 months
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Hi there! Love your oneshots of TBB. Would it be possible to request a crosshairxfemalereader. The female would be so sweet and kind to the marksman that he can't help but fall for her sweetness. And if there could be smut to it? 🫣
Crosshair is my other main TBB love second to my number one being Tech. You bet your sweet bippy I'm going to do this. And I have just the scenario for it too.😈 Thank you for the ask! 😘(PS I am manifesting good things for him in TBB s3😭)
Lovesick 🔻
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Pairing: Crosshair x F!Reader Warnings: (18+) smut, fluff, flirting, testing boundaries, miscommunication, angst, hurt/comfort, first time having sex, PinV, unprotected sex, cumshot, underwear fetish, choking, biting, glove/hand kink, oral m receiving, finger sucking. Summary: You’re conducting volunteer work on Kamino by working in the kitchens to earn hours for your scholarship qualifications. The dreaded schedule, the neverending workload, who would have thought providing concessions for an entire army would be so tiring? Thankfully, you meet a certain moody sniper that serendipitously helps you both make it through the daily grind.
 Read on ao3 - 6k words
Writing Masterlist   -   My kofi✨
You’re starting to regret signing the paperwork that keeps you tied to this boring planet, downtrodden by the constant rain showers and unexciting scenery. The ocean spans as far as the eye can see, drowning the world in a turbulent swirl of waves. You’ve been here for a month now with five more left to go and you feel as though you’ve not even made a dent in the required hours logged for your grant. When they told you that you’d be stationed in a well renowned cloning facility, it was unclear the nature of the subjects they are cloning. You had only heard rumors of the military force built from scratch and commissioned for the Republic. It was a completely different experience witnessing them for yourself. 
Other than your regular daily duties, you were given relatively large access to Tipoca City. It is a privilege to be here, being allowed to conduct your own research observations in your off time when you’re not slinging soup into saucers. Though, with such exclusive residents, if you’re not one of them then you’re not worth the time of day. Most of the troopers you see through your line hardly acknowledge your existence, save for an eye roll or scoff in your direction when you try to strike up conversation. You were beginning to lose hope of gaining a single friend here, that is until an eccentric group of clones started passing through your queue. 
You haven’t seen them in the entirety of your stay here, wondering where they’ve been this whole time and not stationed with the rest of these troopers. “Hey, who are those guys?” You ask one of the other soldiers filling his tray with lunch foods on display between you. 
“Oh, them?” His nose scrunches in a disgusted grimace when prompted about this mysterious group, not holding them in very high regard. “They’re defective. The rest of the boys and I call them The Bad Batch. Trust me, you don’t want anything to do with those losers.”
The trooper very noticeably avoids the table that this supposed Bad Batch is seated in and a silver-haired slender fellow stares back at the passerby with piercing eyes, one of which ordained with a rather unique tattoo resembling a scope’s graticule. His gaze travels back to you once the trooper sits down and he rolls his eyes at you, just as so many other clones have done so before. 
You’re beginning to lose hope in gaining an acquaintance if, at the very least, you can’t interview one of these interesting persons for your research. In the same breath, you question your entitlement to their time. These clones must have challengingly full schedules and you shouldn’t input yourself into their itinerary, whatever its contents may be. You decide it’s best to keep all associations strictly in the mess hall.
Another few days go by, and you attempt the same interaction each time; a simple wave accompanied by a lighthearted smile. Sadly, despite your bids for connection, they are all either too focused on the food in front of them to acknowledge your message or they disregard you altogether. The only one who actually receives your gesture is the silver-haired and he remains unamused.
In seeing this, it sparks an idea that is sure to be a foolproof way to win them over. You’re aching to know their names, especially that grumpy silver-haired one who seems to have a special sort of scorn for you.
While in the late hours of the kitchens, you scramble the cabinets and pantries for ingredients that could make anything, but the relatively bland menu items issued to the soldiers where flavor is not a priority. You are missing all the classic ingredients that make a cake such as eggs, butter, and sugar so this is sure to be a challenge. You assess the ingredients you do have and check things like yogurt, milk, and flour. The other ingredients will require some improvisation.
Scouring every cabinet and shelf you can, you manage to locate cans of jogan fruit puree that you can use to sweeten this confection. You’re unsure what you’re going to end up making, keeping all your options open until you have assessed your mise en place.
So far, you’ve acquired yogurt that can be used to moisten and add supple density to whatever it is you decide to make. The pureed fruit can be strained and blended with the syrup even more to add a deep flavor of sweetness without being artificial or overpowering to your other natural ingredients. Looking at the countertops, you spot a metal tin full of caf grounds and ponder brewing a strong pot to infuse with the milk. If you blend the notes of coffee with the rich taste of the chocolate protein supplement from your personal stash you brought with you, you might be able to fashion something that passes off as chocolate brownies, albeit calorie dense and full of protein.
The first couple attempts bubbled and boiled in the oven before solidifying into an inedible rock once cooled. You struggle for hours tweaking your measurements and feel helpless with this project, likewise wasteful for sabotaging so many ingredients. None of them even care that you’re taking this time to make them something. Why are you even doing this in the first place? It’s not like they’re going to want to try it anyway…
The chiming of the timer shakes you out of your self-deprecating thoughts. You’re terrified to open the oven in fear of being confronted with another failure, but you digress, pulling on the handle and feeling a wave of warm, rich-smelling heat waft from the chamber.
With squinted eyes, you peek through your lashes to catch a glimpse of the pan but notice it’s not bubbling over nor is it smoking. Retrieving your confection, the edges are perfectly crisp while the center remains thick and spongy. You’re not wanting to count your nunas just yet, waiting until it’s completely cooled to cut them up and have a taste. You wouldn’t dare serve them something that tastes like bantha poodoo.
Once cool to the touch, you flip the pan of brownies over, plopping them on a cutting board where you will divide into equal sized squares. The knife glides through them like butter and you’re actually excited to taste them after all your crude attempts prior. The pan yields sixteen brownies and you sample one, allowing each of the group to have three brownies each. You’re always quite conscious in portioning, ensuring there’s enough for everyone. Who knows? If these are received well, perhaps you can incorporate these to be a permanent part of the clone commissary menu. 
The moment of truth arrives. Too excited to sleep, you linger in the kitchens, cleaning and prepping for the daily rush while also scanning for the recipients of your gift. It’s beginning to become increasingly difficult to contain your nervousness. Trying your best to act natural, you casually watch as they navigate to the different counters and queues, filling their trays and hoping they make their way to your little area behind the transparisteel shiels, but they don’t. 
Between greeting the other clones with a regular ‘good morning’, you still wave at them from afar. Perhaps you’re too far away from them to see, and the only one who responds is that silver-haired soldier, a brow raised and puzzled by your constant engagement. His eyes dart back and forth before falling to his tray where they will remain for the duration of his dining period. 
Shrinking back on yourself, you’re having second thoughts on giving them the brownies, feeling the urge to chuck them all into a trash compactor out of spite. Regardless of your inner distress, you wait for the perfect opportunity to place them on their table before they all stand to return to their barracks. The window of opportunity is closing, and you rush over to their table when they start gathering their cutlery and dishes to be cleaned. The tallest, hungriest of them all stands from the table first and is taken aback by your sudden approach. “Uh, excuse me miss. We can take care of our own trays.”
“Oh no, I’m not here for that.” You sheepishly state, abashed that they think you’re wanting to clean up after them. “I trust you boys know how to keep tidy.”
“Speak for yourself.” The silver-haired one disagrees, folding his arms while scanning you from your head to your feet, pausing for a while when he spots the metal box filled with treats. “What’s that?”
“Oh, actually it’s nothing. I should probably”-
“I smell something sweet.” The tallest one states, his nose sniffing the air just above your head. “Let’s see it.”
The entirety of the group is crowding around you now, curious to take a look into your little box of goodies. Your heart jumps in your throat at their attention finally being drawn to you, dwarfing you with their fortified physiques.
“Well… I’m new here and am having trouble getting on the rest of the clones’ good side.” You set the box down, hearing it clatter against the table’s hard surface as it advertises your jitters. Shakily taking the top off, the area is filled with the decadent fudgy aroma of your brownies and the tallest one wastes no time in sampling a square. “I was hoping we could be friends.”
The tallest one sinks his teeth into the brownie, and you’re pleased to find that they’re still soft and chewy, no audible crunch resounds from his mouth as he lets out satisfied hums with every bite. “Wow! You guys ought to try one before I eat them all!”
“Well, I made enough so that there are three for each of you! So please be sure to share!” You add while the one with goggles adjusts them on his face, glancing over the treat in wonderment as the one with the bandana takes a couple and passes a square to the one retrofitted with cybernetics. 
“They can have mine.” The silver-haired one shakes his head from side to side, almost as if he’s offended you brought these for them. “I don’t want any.”
“Your loss, Crosshair.” The tallest one remarks to him, taking another couple brownies for himself.
“Wrecker, leave him at least one. In case he changes his mind.” The one with the bandana argues as slowly but surely, they give their names away so organically and you commit each to memory.
“Hunter’s right.” The one with the goggles interjects. “Don’t be so greedy now.” 
“Tech, are you sure we should be bringing more food to the barracks?” The one with the cybernetics asks Tech and you’re curious as to what that means. Might they have a pest problem?
“It’s quite alright, Echo.” Tech assures the final unnamed clone. “Something tells me these treats won’t last the night.”
Tech still has about half of his brownie left when he begins analyzing it, savoring little nibbles and trying to identify the ingredients you used. “We’ve never had anything like this here before. If I might ask, how did you ever figure out how to make this… this… what do you call this?”
“Where I’m from, they’re called brownies.” You smile, replacing the lid on the remaining squares that haven’t been consumed to retain their moisture. Glancing between Tech and Crosshair, you notice that his eyes pretentiously tumble in their sockets again when his brother engages you. “And I’ll admit, it was very difficult. I had to make do with a lot of substitutes and I nearly gave up towards the end.”
“The chocolate is so prominent.” Echo discloses as he bites into the brownie and chews endearingly. “Where did you manage to find real chocolate all the way out here?”
“That’s the thing. I didn’t.” At this mention, Crosshair’s ears perk up, listening intently at the rarity of this delicacy and possibly considering he’s missing out. “I have a cocoa flavored protein dietary supplement I brought over for myself. They don’t have it in the kitchens, but they do have coffee!”
“How industrious!” Tech chimes in with an index finger pointed to the ceiling. “Adding coffee to chocolate desserts can enhance the chocolate flavor without adding any discernible coffee taste.”
“So, you’re saying there’s caf in these?” Wrecker asks, eyes dilated with evidence that he’s already getting wired from the caffeine.
“Great. Now look at what you’ve done.” Crosshair grumbles from afar before slapping his palm against his face. “He’s going to be wired for hours because of you. But you don’t care because you’re not the one who has to deal with him.”
“I-I didn’t know. I just wanted to do something nice for you guys.” You’re dejected by this revelation, completely unaware that you definitely laced these treats with a highly reactive stimulant without a consideration that any of them would have a sensitivity to it. “I’m so sorry…”
With your head hanging down, you fight the urge to engage with them any longer, speed walking back to your post where you want to forget about all this by submerging yourself neck deep in dish duty. However, as you’re walking away, you hear them carry on with conversation amongst each other with your back turned.
“Realistically speaking, unless Wrecker were to eat the entire batch of brownies, they wouldn’t have a very substantial effect on him.” Tech argues, deducing the efficacy of the coffee you infused. “The rest is merely the power of suggestion.”
“That wasn’t cool, Crosshair.” Echo adds. “She was just trying to make friends.”
“You wouldn’t have that attitude if you actually tried one.” Hunter continues the dispute.
“Yeah!” Wrecker exclaims. “These are the best things I’ve ever eaten!”
Hours pass by and you’re taking the lonely walk back to your personal quarters, arms sore from your incessant scrubbing to save the pans you nearly ruined with your botched first attempts at the brownies. The main hall lights are dim and the grim ambiance of the ocean planet’s atmosphere cloaks the residential halls in shadow. The inactivity in this wing tells you that everyone is already fast asleep and you’re woefully jealous that they’re taking advantage of their well-earned resting period when you’re so late to your own. In this solitary hour, you make a pact within yourself to forget about making friends and focus on finishing your hours and getting the kriff out of here. These men… their hearts are locked up and you’re running out of combinations to try. Do they believe love is a waste of time, or are they saving their love for someone you will never be? Perhaps things are better off this way.
You’re getting closer to your personal quarters when a silhouette standing at the end of the hallway startles you. Knowing you’re in non-threatening territory, you continue with your eyes glued to the floor while pretending you don’t see the very obvious silhouette in the corner of the corridor.
“They’re really good, you know.” That discernibly sly voice speaks to you from the darkness, and you stop dead in your tracks, aware of who’s posted outside your door now.
“What do you want?” You retort, as dismissive and standoffish as Crosshair has been towards you.
“I wanted to thank you.” Crosshair holds out the singular brownie with a bite taken out of it he reluctantly accepted before Wrecker volunteered to eat any unclaimed squares. “For going through the effort to make these.” 
“I see.” You look between him and the control panel you’re punching your personal access code into, making it seem like he’s inconveniencing you by dividing your attention. “So you actually tried one.”
“Yes.” Crosshair breaks eye contact, regretful of his behavior. “The truth is, I noticed you on your first day here over a month ago, but I didn’t feel that I had a right to approach you.”
You chuckle to yourself upon walking into your room, motion detecting lights switching on when it senses you and Crosshair making an entrance. 
“Did I say something funny?” The whole point of Crosshair conducting this confession under the cloak of night is to avoid ridicule, anger boiling when he addresses your laughter.
“It’s nothing. It’s just,” You catch your breath after a little fit and continue. “We both made decisions based on false assumptions of one another. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t bake those brownies just to have a reason to talk to you.”
“I had no idea.” Crosshair deflates, recalling his abhorrent behavior. “I suppose I shouldn’t have neglected your approach so bitterly, and that our sparse interactions prior to finally speaking were susceptible to being misread.”
“You think?” You scoff in surprise at his admittance. “You were looking at me like I had grown a second head.”
“I was just surprised you noticed me.” Crosshair shrugs and you smile at the humble modesty he allows you to bear witness to when no one else is around.
“Why couldn’t you act like this to me before?” You ask, removing your culinary smock to reveal a set of form fitting fatigues. You catch Crosshair staring as you unbutton the top section, pulling your upper torso out of the sleeves and tying the excess textile around your waist.
“Are you kidding me?” Crosshair rhetorically asks. “They’d never let me live this down. They’re so used to me putting on this vicious and offensive front, it would be strange if I acted differently all of a sudden. They wouldn’t believe that I can change. Even if it is for a pretty girl.”
Crosshair walks closer to you, deepening his voice when he delivers those last couple words and there’s absolutely no room for speculation about his feelings for you now. You match Crosshair’s energy and step into his space, letting him know you share the same proclivities for him as he does for you. “I think you’re wrong. They seem like the perfect people to accept you just as you are. And besides, you’re a great actor. You should pursue a career in entertainment if this gig doesn’t work out.”
“And by gig, you mean the occupation I was bred for?” Crosshair’s expression when he says this makes you stir, captured by his pearly white smile.
“Remind me to add ‘sense of humor’ to the list of things I need to teach you.” You mention teasingly, leaning forward to graze your chest against the firm plate of gray and crimson armor snug to his torso. He’s far taller in this close-up perspective, hovering his face just an inch or so above yours. You want to jump for a taste of his lips, but Crosshair bites one, flashing his canines at you before speaking.
“Care to give me a few lessons right now?” He beckons, drooping his head a little lower.
“Don’t tempt me…” At the delivery of your words, your mouths graze lightly against each other with barely enough breathing room to say anything else. His eyes blink slowly with passion as you hunger for this approach, dragging out every second of suspense that he doesn’t clash his lips with your yet.
Crosshair purses his mouth, touching it to your open lips softly. Your streams of breath combine when you both let out an exasperated sigh, gasping and deprived of oxygen as your shared anxiety momentarily overrides involuntary actions like taking in air. Unable to hold out any longer, you attack each other with a rapturous sequence of kisses while trying and failing to get a sense of what his body feels like. These overlays of plastoid are an obstacle you must overcome and Crosshair senses your desperation to bypass it.
While keeping his lips secured to yours, he starts by sliding his gauntlets off, followed by his bicep bracers. The pauldrons and chest piece come next, unbuckling the fasteners as you hear more pieces clatter to a pile on the floor. He guides you over to your living space sofa where you feel your heels bump up against the edge. You lose your balance and break the kiss by falling into a seated position atop the cushions, stunned by how he’s twice as tall and even more intimidating at this angle. His under suit does little to hide the many handsome details of his physique and your mouth waters when his muscles catch the light just right. 
Unprompted, you start to unbuckle the belt around his waist, or at least you enter a hurried plight to do so, but you can’t figure out how to unfasten it. Crosshair’s gloved hands find yours, holding them still with measured discipline as he knows exactly what it is you want, luring you in with a prize directly in front of your face. However, just as you’re enticed by the treat concealed behind a codpiece, Crosshair’s gloves add a dept of radiating warmth that disperses through the fabric and burns into your skin. Crosshair lets go of one of your wrists and the air hits you in a cool rush with the absence of his touch. He takes hold of your face, lifting your gaze up to his while clamping your jaw with a thumb on one cheek and the rest of his digits on the other. The heat from his fingertips causes your face to flush as you gulp to appease the tension building within you, not knowing what it is he plans to do to you next.
“Open.” He orders, and you staunchly obey. With steady hands still keeping you in place, Crosshair circles your lips with his index finger before slipping it into your mouth. You can taste that these are clean gloves, only detecting notes of the brownie he was holding as well as the faint aroma of washing detergent. You indulge in this offering, biting down on the digit and massaging your tongue against it as Crosshair cycles his breathing to not be overwhelmed by sensation too soon. You can tell by the mask of bliss on his face that he likes to see you open and willing to explore each other’s deepest desires, pushing his finger against your tongue to fight against your massaging as he conducts a miniscule battle within your maw.
To test his bounds, you increase your bite around his finger, and he hisses with the pain, scrunching his nose and biting his lip in approval. He lets you have your show of force before retrieving his finger from your teeth in an agonizingly slow process, letting you fully saturate the glove in your spittle. “Quite the good girl you are for me, aren’t you?”
“You’re right…” You interrupt your speech to lick your lips clean of the residual saliva Crosshair left there with his dampened finger. “I am rather good at being naughty.”
Crosshair finally unbuckles his belt and lets his codpiece fall at his feet with a thud. “Let’s see you prove it then.”
Taking his challenge, you reach for his under suit waistband and yank it down to reveal his throbbing cock, hardened by your suckling on his finger. It bounces deliciously in front of you and Crosshair is floored by your brazen display yet again. His skin is smooth and lean as you skate your palms along the contours of his bare hips, the bones jutting out and pressing through the taut skin. Your tongue swirls about the head of his weeping cock, already glistening with that deliciously sweet arousal dripping from it. 
Crosshair holds back a deep growl, dissipating its audible resounding through his chest and you feel him subtly vibrate with that dispersal of energy he so vehemently tries to conceal. Though, it isn’t until your sampling of his torrid length grows in ferocity that he actually starts letting you listen to his depraved moans. They sound like they’re clawing to escape his throat, only for their melodic resonance to be cut short and dispersed again through cyclical breaths. Still, each adorable little whine stifled by his virile principals adds a degree of attraction with how he clings so tightly to his indoctrinated self-control. You’re hoping after this, he’ll allow himself to not take everything so seriously.
You catch a small glob of spittle from your mouth and begin stroking your slick fingers up and down Crosshair’s veiny shaft using both hands. Looking up at him, his jaw drops as you more thoroughly demonstrate your skill set in this area. He releases higher pitched groans and exuberant curses through your sensual strokes and slurps, jostling a bit when you pay extra close attention to his more sensitive areas. 
Just when you think you’re achieving an effective rhythm, Crosshair pulls your mouth off his cock unexpectedly, his abdominals flexing with evidence that he’s straining himself to not blow his load all over right then and there. “Careful, pretty thing.” He warns. “Don’t want to ruin your own fun.”
“Oh yeah?” You wipe your jaw, licking your numb and staticky lips as Crosshair shifts himself into resting on both knees between your spread legs at the edge of the sofa. He begins to pull your fatigues completely off where you’re in nothing but your underwear and muscle shirt. “What exactly does this ‘fun’ entail?”
“I don’t know.” Crosshair says plainly, his right canine tooth flashing in the light as the creases of his tattoo become more pronounced with his smile. “I’m still working on it.”
“Wait, you mean to tell me you’ve never done this before?” He definitely could have had you fooled with how involved he’s been thus far.
“Surprised?” His head sinks between his shoulders and you feel bad for questioning him. Even worse for getting him to confess something like that. “You shouldn’t be. I’m surrounded by eight-foot-tall engineers who run this place or people with the same genetic makeup as me.”
“But I’ve seen just in my time logging hours here that you leave on missions. A lot.” You counter, offering him reasoning for opportunities for relationships he certainly deserves.
“Yes, of which every hour is reported. We’re too busy scanning the battlefield to worry about love or friends.” Crosshair discloses, melancholic and indifferent to the stipulations of their deployments. “We’re property. Not people.”
Listening to Crosshair tell you these harsh yet true things about his place in the world is more valuable than any observational affairs you’ve learned in your stay here, fortuitously getting that interview you were looking for. Only this time, it’s coming from a place of unfettered sincerity and even a little pain. You take Crosshair’s face in your palms when he says this, comforting him with your touch and giving him time to process the emotions that come with announcing something transparent like that aloud. 
“The reason I was trying to make friends with the clones here is because I had a feeling that the arrangement was as such.” You pet the sharp frame of his cheekbones with your thumbs and notice a slight sparkle at the waterline of his eye, manifested emotions threatening to spill over. “I see you as much more than the objects your creators perceive you to be.”
Crosshair blinks lazily and nuzzles into your palms, reveling in the moment he quite literally found someone to tell him the things he so gravely needs to hear. He then wraps both arms around you, enveloping you into a hug while kissing you with more crushing lasciviousness than before, if that’s even possible. He threads his fingers into your hair and really moves his lean body against yours.
Crosshair playfully shoves you away, creating space between you and leaving you wantonly aching for his kiss now that you’re laying down on your back with a slight bounce against your cushions. Your legs are still draped over the edge with Crosshair on his knees between them. He’s pumping his shaft in his fist to wake it back up after your short intermission, his tongue jutting from between his teeth like a wild serpent. You feel his gaze outline your form from your head to your chest until his focus lands upon the comfortable patterned underwear you have on. It by no means has the sexual allure of a thong or other piece of lingerie, but Crosshair seems to have taken a liking to this particular garment of yours.
Crosshair touches you through the thin material. He finds your tender little bud and presses firmly, circling it repeatedly. Your hips begin to swivel at this motion, suffering from the shielded touch and wanting Crosshair to caress you with those mitts of his. There are little peeking separations from where his sleeves have pulled away from his gloves and you notice the stark contrast of his skin tone against the black hue of his suit. His sleek attire adds an impish mood to this exchange as you are unable to tame the kinky thoughts that flood your brain seeing him exposed yet so covered up like this.
Crosshair still doesn’t pull the fabric aside, choosing to see if he can manage to bring you to a fluttering climax without doing so. And surprisingly he does. The sensation is so different from your traditional methods used on yourself, typically predictable and unchanging. Yet, the constant lack of direct contact creates an overstimulating phenomenon that travels through your very core. The fabric between your thighs becomes moistened yet Crosshair uses that to his advantage, slathering the saturated slick all over you through it. His gloves are likewise taking on excess wetness but this is precisely what he planned. Pretty soon, you’re so drenched and dripping with your own arousal that you forget for a second that he’s still doing this through a barrier.
It doesn’t stop there. Crosshair bumps the head of his cock to the little wet spot he made, separating the lips of your pussy with it and doing the same thing he was doing before but with his plush tip instead. He keeps his fist coiled about the base of his shaft and operates using it like a pleasure wand, moving in methodical circles as your joined ecstasy takes you both by storm.
You had no idea the benefits of a measure like this, having never experienced such patient foreplay before. For someone to claim he knows nothing about what he’s doing, he certainly embarks you on a journey to discovery of things you didn’t even know you liked. You cry into your fist, biting your knuckles when he takes you through another throttle of electrifying reactions. But before you can ride the waves of this instance, he takes your doused undergarment into his gloved hand and bunches up the section separating your skin from his. His clenched fist yanks on the article of clothing you both have so sinfully soiled and you hear a couple threads snap with his aggression. You could care less if he ripped these clean off you, stomach turning with a surge of nerves when he lets out feral bellows as he holds onto your underwear while still rubbing himself on your juicy center.
“You’re so beautiful.” He mutters just above a whisper, eyes hazy and drowning in lust. He suddenly closes the distance and slumps over you, catching your jugular between his teeth as he pushes himself inside no more than an inch. The unexpected splitting of your walls brings you to wail in time with his assertive bites, yet you still wriggle for more. Crosshair continues to murmur obscene phrases into your ear and the heat of his breath tickles you immensely. You’re caught in a whirlwind of delight as Crosshair straightens out his posture again while looking down on you with your panties still pulled to the side. Now that he’s starting the initial thrusts, the hand he was using to guide himself is available. His hips move forward and back, splitting you sweetly but not too fast as he compresses your spread body by bringing your knees to your chest. His free hand anchors itself to your abdomen, slowly moving up to your breasts with every little thrust and you hold your knees in place to allow him to use you however he likes. 
He challenges your nerve and lifts your muscle shirt, exposing your nipples while keeping his hand flat atop your sternum. You get an idea of what it is he’s wanting to try, but waits for your nonverbal approval as your vocalizations are otherwise unintelligible. The magnetic pull of his palm to your neck is impossible to ignore, his gloved fingers resting just below your collarbone and only drifting closer with each movement. You nod at him, mouthing the words ‘choke me’ to him and Crosshair obeys your command.
He fucks you hard now, rapidly pushing himself as far as he can into you knowing you can withstand what he has to offer. He squeezes the pillar of muscle around your windpipe but doesn’t cut off your airways, proficiently executing this maneuver in a way you both find undeniably gratifying. Your moans have all but ceased while Crosshair shamelessly fills in the gaps, grunting and tugging on your underwear still bunched up in his fist. Crosshair’s thigh guards pinch the skin of your ass every time he drives himself inside and you revel in the sting. 
His grip loosens around your throat and you’re gasping for the first vestiges of real breath in the time he’s been choking you, whining at Crosshair while maintaining eye contact. This erotic gesture definitely has a hand in sending him over the edge, hastening his pace with which he fucks you until he’s quaking with ravishment. 
Crosshair lets go of the hold he has on your undergarment, letting the stretched elastic fall in a wrinkled mess where it limply resembles a pair of panties anymore. Leaning back a bit, he takes his length in his hand and finishes all over your clothes, coating them in pearlescent stains. You laugh under your breath, overjoyed to see the payoff of your efforts while he looks a little embarrassed.
“That went a little differently than I planned.” Crosshair confesses, his hardness shrinking fast while he stays posted at the edge of your bed holding his soiled hand out, not wanting to dirty anything else.
“I’d say that went just as I suspected. Better, even.” You tease him, removing your shirt along with the mess he left, tossing him the garment inside out so that he can clean himself off. He gawks at you, watching intently as you rise from the sofa, turn up the brightness of your overhead sterile-white lights and drop the used underwear to the floor to walk about, naked as the day you were born. The living quarters you’ve been issued are comfortably small, consisting of a short corridor flanked by a bedroom and a refresher on each side that leads to a cozy little common area with a backdrop of Kamino’s stormy seas in the distance. The transparisteel windows are slightly opaque with only vague shapes giving way to what lies beyond the veil. Crosshair is astounded by your audacity to flaunt yourself in front of the whole city, wishing he had your courage. You pull a robe and a set of pajamas from the drawer you walked to and set it on the bed you had just risen from. “But if you want a shot to redeem yourself, you’re gonna have to join me in the shower.”
“Redemption?” Crosshair strips himself of all remaining plates of armor, his flaccid cock regaining its verve at this notion to take you again. He practically sprints at you, following your scandalous lead and showing his lanky nakedness beside you in front of the obscured window. He crouches down, bending his knees to scoop you by the backs of your thighs and rousing you with a spectacle of strength. He picks you up and cradles you effortlessly, walking into the refresher with you giggling in his grasp. “I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity like this for anything.”
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ssentimentals · 6 months
Text
make a move {choi seungcheol}
pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader
prompt: 'i've never done this before' + 'i just want to please you' ((this work is part of my 1k event, go check out other works of mine here)
warnings: nsfw (minors, i'm looking at all of you, skip this work!), cheollie is whipped (duh, when have i ever written anything different), i'm striking again with a confident and forthcoming reader in here, fingering, handjob
seungcheol takes it slow. it's a miracle that you even agreed to be his girlfriend in the first place and he is not about to fuck it all up by rushing and making mistakes. he's a perfect gentleman, he prides himself in having a great selfcontrol and he's also absolutely terrified of messing up this chance of being with you, so. he takes it slow. his kisses never stray away from your lips and his hands are yet to map out every curve of your body cause he keeps them positioned strategically at your waist at all times. in those two months of dating he never stayed over at your place and never indicated that he wants to move things further, never pushed. all in all seungcheol is a perfect picture of someone who takes. it. slow. he's also a perfect picture of someone who's on the brink of losing his goddamn mind.
cause you don't exactly make it easy for him. part of seungcheol thinks that you're doing this on purpose, but another part doesn't want to believe in it. you can't be testing him on purpose, right? all those breathy sighs into the kiss, your fingers that caress his torso and then drop too low right next to his belt, you sitting on his lap and wiggling to get comfortable - you can't be that cruel, right? on any day he'd never think of you as anything less of an angel, but right now he is not sure. your simple 'help me pick an outfit for tonight's party' request sounded very innocent, but you closing the door and starting to undress right in front of him? sinful. devilish. seungcheol is losing his mind.
'i just need to freshen up,' you gesture towards the bathroom, taking off your hoodie. 'you can sit wherever, i'll take a quick shower and then we can choose, yeah? i want us to match!'
soft smile graces his features as he stares at your excited face. your desire to wear matching clothes is too cute and he is always ready to indulge you. 'sure babe, whatever you want.'
you smile, sending him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. seungcheol decidedly doesn't think of your state of nakedness right behind that door and turns around, getting himself comfortable on your bed. in truth, he doesn't really know how to...move forward. and the worst part is not like you asked him to take it slow. no, he decided so himself but lately seungcheol had a hard time remembering the reasons behind this decision. he'd wait for you as long as needed if you asked so, but when you didn't he is a bit at loss. his hands itch to explore your body, his lips long to kiss you all over and he doesn't know how to breach this subject. the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable but the more he thinks about it, the more thought of talking it out with you seems to be logical.
'babe, where's my phone?'
'right over he- oh!' seungcheol turns his head so quickly, he hears a loud crack of his neck. image of you wrapped only in a towel will not leave his mind anytime soon. 'sorry! sorry. um, i didn't mean to look, honestly. your phone is-' he reaches out and hands it to you, still turned around, '-here, yeah it's here.'
there's a silence and then he hears soft chuckle. 'cheollie, if i didn't want you to look, i would have wore clothes before going out.'
'right-right,' seungcheol lets out automatically before meaning behind your words fully sinks in. when it does, he whips his head back, staring at you dumbfounded. 'what?'
you smile at his confused face, stepping closer. 'you heard me, seungcheol. or i can repeat the whole walking out thing again if you want.'
silence. seungcheol is not sure how he is supposed to react. his brain shuts down for few seconds, taking few more seconds to restart but this time when he's silent is enough to make you feel insecure. he sees how smile slips up from your face, getting replaced with downward quirk of your lips and frown. he hates that but before his tongue can remember how words work, you mutter: 'hey, i didn't want to pressure, i was just kidding, sorry-'
'no-no!' seungcheol rushes out to say, fumbling with his words as he shots up from the bed to stand close to you. you look so fragile with your shoulders hunched and looking like he might reject you, which honestly is never an option and he needs to make it clear as a day to you. 'please don't apologise, i just blanked out on you in a moment.'
you look up to check whether thats true or not and then smile, raising your eyebrow in a flirtatious way. 'should i take it for a compliment that you blanked out seeing me half naked?'
seungcheol huffs, stepping a bit closer. his hands fall automatically on your hips and he smiles as you instantly sway closer. 'i didn't want to impose,' he explains, carefully choosing his words. 'you and i, we...we are taking it slow, so. i'm kind of-' seungcheol shakes his head, tightening his grip on your hips. it's hard to find words when you're smelling so good and your skin is still moist and- 'at loss, i guess.'
you chew on your bottom lip, thinking. 'why exactly are we taking it slow, cheollie? is this what you want? if that's what you want then of course i will respect. but if it's for my sake then i don't really care, to be honest. but if you don't want me-'
seungcheol roughly pulls you close, inhales floral scent of your shampoo and breathes out, trying to put words into sentences. he doesn't want to hear the end of your sentence, can't bear the thought of you feeling like this; he wants to be romantic, wants to sweep you off your feet, but only raw honesty is on his tongue when he whispers: 'i want you. so much. always, all the time.' when he opens his eyes, he makes eye contact with you, wanting you to know that he is not joking around. 'never doubt that, never.'
your eyes glaze over and you lick your lips nervously; this little action makes him swallow loudly. 'then...' you place your hands on his belt, looking up. 'make a move, cheol.'
a permission. a verbal one, when you're fully in your right mind - once seungcheol registers that, he has to take a deep breath. in a second he's overwhelmed with all of the options: where he can touch, kiss, seeing you naked, the positions - his fingers start to shake a little from realization that he is free to do it all. he doesn't know what to choose first simply because he wants to everything at once, immediately, god he waited so patiently-
'i've never done this before,' he hears you whisper. 'i mean-never been this forward.'
he hums, drawing soothing circles on your hips. your towel is really getting in the way and he gets bold enough to tug on it, letting the fabric fall down. it gets a hitch in breath from you and growing smirk from him in return. 'you being this forward,' he whispers, closing in so he's practically whispering in your mouth, 'is very, very sexy.'
in truth it does thing to him that are hard to explain, because whole blood rushes away from his brain and moves lower, making it hard to keep his composure. you're finally in his arms in the way that he wanted and to have you fully naked and him fully clothes is really too much for him to handle. you glance at him with a small smirk of your own, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. your chest presses to his and seungcheol locks his arms around you, fighting off his growing desire to throw you on the bed and have his way with you.
'you find me sexy?' you ask and he is so far gone, you really don't even have to try and be seductive, every move of yours captures his heart in a deadlock. 'what else?'
oh, this is a fantastic question, one that seungcheol is ready to answer even if you wake him up in the middle of the night. he leans in, starting to press kisses at each part of your face as he speaks: 'i find you sexy, yes. and absolutely irressistible, and stunning. so, so stunning. you're unreal.'
your giggle when he kisses up your neck makes him smile and he lets you go just to shrug off his jacket. 'i am real,' you assure him, not so subtly tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. then you suddenly look up, serious. 'what do you want to do?'
another brilliant question. seungcheol gathers you back in his arms once he took off his t-shirt. 'i just want to please you.'
and that's really it. in the bottom of it all is just his immense desire to please you, make you feel good. seungcheol is ready to make this his lifelong purpose, he hopes you are ready for it. at his reply your eyes twinkle and you lean in, brushing your lips over his ear: 'green light on everything, cheol.'
it's a mess from then on. one minute you two are standing in a hug and then he's between your legs, leaving kisses all over inside of your thighs while his fingers gently pry you open. if seungcheol could choose, he'd gladly die right here and now. in between your legs, getting to touch your body, hearing those sinful sounds leave your mouth - that's a good way to go. his own arousal pushes at his jeans in an uncomfortable manner, but it doesn't matter for him now. he is completely lost in your world, can spend hours right in this position, massaging supple and soft flesh of your thighs, pushing his fingers again and again in your velvety heat, leaving his little marks all over you. everything about you is addictive: your body, your taste, your sounds. he wants to memorize everything now, but realization that this is not his last time has him reeling this desire back; god, just the knowledge of him having so much time with you in the future has his knees buckling.
'seungcheol,' you keen at the of the third finger and he smiles, when you try to close your legs together.
he wants to see your face and he moves higher, trailing kisses wherever he can reach, stopping at your collarbones. you're breathing heavily and he slips down to give all of his attention to your chest, smirking at you groaning. he speeds up his fingers and his jaw slackens in awe when you start moving along, chasing your high with a loud whine, grabbing his bicep for support. 'fuck- yes, c'mon, use me, use my fingers, take what you want, love,' he lets out, eyes fixed on the way your hips move.
'oh my god,' your nails dig painfully into his skin. 'i'm- seungcheol, i need-'
seungcheol moves down swiftly, knowing exactly what you need. his lips close around the nub and he sucks in time with his fingers, making you cry out. your legs shake when you climax and whole body grows taut for few seconds before relaxing, sagging back into the bed. cheol works you through it, his lips and fingers serve a constant pressure in the right places, stopping only when you tug weakly at his hair. he grins, leaning down to lap up at your juices. your skin is glowing with light sheen of sweat and he wonders will you be disgusted or not if he licks it off.
'feeling okay?' he asks quietly, moving up until he's facing you.
your eyes focus on him after few moments and you smile, nodding. your hand reaches out to his belt and he catches it, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. 'what about you?' you ask, frowning.
'i'll take care of it,' he says. 'you are tired and don't even argue about it.'
you pout but don't argue - you are tired. this day has been dreadful and after an orgasm all you wanna do is just roll over and fall asleep. however, leaving him high and dry is not what you want, so you stubbornly reach out for his jeans, ignoring his groan of protest. 'handjob?' you ask, looking up at your boyfriend. 'blowjob?'
seungcheol curses under his breath; how can someone look so cute when these kind of words leave their mouth? he sighs, pulling you in and whispering into your hair: 'handjob.'
honestly, he's so pent up that even few strokes from you will do it but he tries to hold on, not wanting to leave a bad impression. so he grits his teeth and tries to think unsexy thoughts when you caress his shaft slowly before picking up your speed. he's trying to be quiet but you lean on and start kissing him and oh, he is a weak, weak man. seungcheol moans loudly into your mouth when you apply more pressure and pants openly as his stomach tightens from all the feelings. 'let go,' you whisper - command? - into his ear and he follows your order easily like it's the most natural thing in the world. you swallow up all his sounds with a kiss and his midn blissfully drifts in and out until he comes back to reality, when you reach out behind him for a tissue.
'shower?' you ask, looking at him with a warm smile.
'and a nap,' seungcheol nods. 'want me to go first and fix the temperature?'
seungcheol wants nothing more than to lay here and fall asleep with you, but he knows how you hate sweat and how you hate cold water and having to wait for it to warm up, so his want will hav to wait. you nod gratefully, smiling at how well he knows you. 'yes please.'
'how polite,' cheol snickers but stands up, tucking his jeans away and rushing to the bathroom. he stands there for a while, waiting for water to warm up and then grabs two new towels before calling you in. 'all is ready, your highness, please do come in.'
your laugh makes his heart beat louder in his chest and he sighs in satisfaction when you drop a kiss at his forehead before going in. this evening turned out to be something else and he's never been more glad of it.
a/n: so.many.feelings in this smut, this got out of control when i started writing it. let me know what you think - nini
tagging @prpldahy
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islandofsages · 3 months
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Hi, can I ask the dorm leaders with a student (male) who is extremely good in all academic subjects, ranking among the top 5 in the test rankings, but is extremely stupid in all other factors, for example if someone tries to bully with him, he had politely asked the person to apologize.
characters: the housewardens x male reader
tags: platonic, fluff + crack, imagines format; azul mention in riddle's, riddle mention in azul's, jamil mention in kalim's, vargas mention in vil's, ortho mention in idia's
warnings: alarming stupidity nothing
author's notes: this is such a fun prompt omg i love dumbasses
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Riddle Rosehearts
He finds your grades quite impressive - though you can’t cut through his and Azul’s rankings, you manage to land the third place at least
He admires and respects your diligence in studying; if you’re a Heartslabyul student, he’ll consider you a great candidate for the seat of housewarden (or at least vice position)
But then he stumbles upon you one day doing… something? What are you doing?
You’re… crouching in front of a bug. Okay well, maybe you’re studying it
Upon closer inspection though, it looks like you’re… crying? Are you mourning??
The bug’s not even dead. It’s just lying down. You’re seriously mourning a bug that’s actually alive.
He doesn’t want to think it nor does he actually believe you’re like this. But he feels you’re being really stupid at the moment
Then he thinks that again. When you’re doing another stupid thing. Yet you continue to dominate the class rankings
He’s confused. Really confused. 
He stops doubting the duality of man because of you.
Leona Kingscholar
He thinks you’re not half-bad for a herbivore (or well, if you’re a beastman, good for you too)
If you’re a member of Savanaclaw, he’s grateful to have one more guy who can contribute to the decreasing of the dropout rates
That is, until he sees you being cornered by what seems to be a group of bullies
He sighs tiredly at the thought of having to break up a fight again and walks over to you guys, fully expecting you to be in some kind of trouble
But… you’re scolding the bullies instead? And they actually seem apologetic
Did you really ask a group of bullies to apologize for trying to bully you?
He’s unsure if you’re the oblivious one here or the bullies; you’re supposed to feel victimized. Or maybe the bullies are so bad at bullying they don’t affect you in the least??
He doesn’t know what to make of this. But he supposes as long as you don’t make any trouble for him, he doesn’t give a damn
Then he sees more bullies try to get you to give up your wallet to them
Okay, maybe he’ll give at least two damns.
Azul Ashengrotto
A worthy contender to his and Riddle’s rankings? People like you don’t just come by every day
Definitely considers you a valuable asset of some sort… or at least a valuable friend!
So of course, he’d like to interview you on how you got to this level, definitely no other ulterior motives at all
You two sit down in the Mostro Lounge one day, everything is pleasant and comfortable, and you’re just chilling. He starts with a simple question: how do you study to get such good grades?
You ruminate the question for a minute, thinking hard, when you eventually come to the conclusion
“I mean. I just study like the normal person does. Five minutes before the exam itself, I’ll run through whatever notes I have.”
…What?
He’s not sure if you’re actually really stupid to study five minutes before an exam or really smart that you can ace exams with just five minute study sessions
He continues to interview you and he discovers more about how much of a dumbass you actually are but he endures it just for the sake of knowing your actual secrets
You better watch your back.
Kalim Al-Asim
He looks up to you so much, he practically begs you to tutor him so he doesn’t bother Jamil as much 
So you do, just for the hell of it and maybe because of the money too
And it works! He’d come running to you, excitedly showing you his grades from the last exam and you’re genuinely proud of his improvement
He likes running up to you either way - and one day when he does, he runs into you… reading a book upside down?
“Oh, hey Kalim. You know, I found this book one day and I thought I’d give it a read but I can’t understand a single thing…”
He wants to say something. Specifically about you reading said book the wrong way (literally)
…But what if you’re right? Maybe it is meant to be read upside down and you’re just not understanding it because it’s in some ancient language?
You two go to Jamil for once since he seems to be as proficient, if not more, in ancient magic than the both of you
You were excited at the idea that there’s still new stuff out there you have yet to discover
Needless to say though, your excitement dies the moment Jamil finishes listening to your explanation and you two become the victim of his two-hour lecture.
Vil Schoenheit
You’ve gained his respect. A rare honor from the Fairest Queen himself, you think
He would consider you an equal… if it weren’t for the fact of, well, you’re pretty oblivious in literally everything else
He’ll never forget the day where your natural stupidity outshone your class ranking… because it involved Vil himself
You were in a joint PE class together (or if you’re classmates then just a regular class) and it gave both of you the opportunity to talk to each other a bit
It’s a nice little conversation until you say-
“Also… what’s Vargas’ last name anyway?”
Vil blinked once. Then twice. What did you just ask him?
Vargas. Is the last name. His full name is Ashton Vargas. It’s pretty common knowledge considering how much the guy himself says it. He relays that information to you
You let out a dragged out “Oh” and nodded understandingly. Oh, you were being genuine.
Now he doesn’t want to assume from just one interaction but every other interaction with you just proves his point - and the thing is he actually finds it kind of amusing.
Idia Shroud
Wow, someone who’s almost as prodigious as he is, how impressive (he’s being half-sarcastic, half-genuine here)
It is somewhat difficult to find some intelligent life in NRC sometimes. But then you end up being one of them anyway (yet also not really?)
Like you’re always in the top 5 when it comes to exams but then he sees you doing stuff like what you did yesterday…
He was outside for once, taking a walk since Ortho insisted, and he bumps into you on the main street
He didn’t think twice about what you were doing; you were merely staring up at the King of Beast’s statue, finger under your chin, eyes squinted. It’s obvious you were deep in thought
Until he walked by you, hearing you talk to yourself
“...What kind of animal is he anyway? A cat? A tiger?? A panther???”
??? Is it not obvious???
He debated on actually telling you what kind of animal the King of Beasts was but… somehow it’s funnier to leave you in the dark like that
He’ll never get over how you keep calling the King of Beasts a panther, mainly because it riles the Savanaclaw students up.
Malleus Draconia
You’re a curious little thing to him - he wonders how you’ve come to know so many things
Or at least, seem so… you may ace your exams but he comes to notice that it’s not consistent across all boards
He just got back from touring Ramshackle’s exterior for the umpteenth time when he sees you chilling in the Diasomnia lounge
You are talking to another student, which is normal and all, but your response makes him do a double take
“I just think they shouldn’t put mushrooms in mushroom soup! And not make it taste like mushrooms! It just has to look and feel like thick soup!”
But… those are what make mushroom soup… mushroom soup.
He doesn’t even feel that strongly towards mushroom soup! Why is he trying to defend mushroom soup??
It’s not outright stupid but… it certainly is a bold take that could be a pipeline to be dumb
Malleus tries not to judge; you have your qualities and flaws that make you special
But when you bring your complaint to the cafeteria staff, that’s where he draws the line and stops you for the sake of everyone’s sanity.
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