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A very happy Tech Tuesday to you all! In honor of the S2 trailer, here’s Tech with his new armor!

Here’s a lighthearted one-shot featuring my OC Estelle Carter with Harley Quinn and Adrian Chase. The main pairing is Harley/Estelle but with a dash of suggestion that eventually they’ll be a Harley/Estelle/Adrian pairing. 

Star Wars OC : Lexi Tamzin, human-zeltron thief and informant, living on Coruscant and temporary cooperate with Jango Fett 😈♀️🌆

Warnings: Kissing, flirting, sexual innuendos, humor, blowjobs, male receiving oral. Smut / fluff / mildly dubious consent but not really? Dry-humping, self-esteem issues, self-degradation, self-doubt, mild feelings of worthlessness and slight depression.

Word count: 4.8k+

Summary: Shriv Suurgav is overworked - he sits alone, or tries to, in his office. You’ve come to bother him, or better yet, help him find a way to relieve his stress. This “Duros under duress” must relax.

Notes: I write Shriv Suurgav entirely different from the way I write Cad Bane, so be prepared for a more “ stream of consciousness” type style. I love getting inside this neurotic Duros’ head. Inspired by me eating a lollipop on the way home from work. “A blowjob a day keeps the melancholy away.” - @amiquinn99​ 

Half a parsec. No. Maybe a whole parsec.

Two parsecs?

Perhaps a parsec was not the right unit of measurement to use in this situation, but Shriv absolutely felt that was how far away he was from finishing this list of menial tasks that was supposed to get done by the end of the day.

It was too much for just one day. Or any day. It was never ending; just a nearly insurmountable heap of red tape and bureaucracy, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Well, almost nothing.

He supposed he could launch himself out of an airlock, but death might be just a little bit worse than having to answer to Lando about this one particular report that was due two standard hours from now.

Who was keeping track of this stuff, anyway? Would they know if he hadn’t submitted it on time? Was Lando really that interested in learning about the finer points of the Pathfinder’s last ground assault? The fact the 61st mobile infantry had lost so many soldiers on Haidoral Prime that they were organizing a recruitment event to try and persuade locals to join their cause?

Not to mention the dangers of Imperial espionage – you never knew who was going to show up to these things. That’s why he stayed away from them. He was too skeptical – they said he would only hinder the process. It was fine by Shriv. He had better things to do.

Let them deal with the repercussions. They couldn’t say he hadn’t warned them.

Of course, the stress of those better things alone was enough to give anyone a stroke; but Shriv did what he did best in these scenarios: he sucked it up. Only today it wasn’t going so well. He had too much on his mind.

When did he not have too much on his mind?

Shriv couldn’t remember the last time his head was absent of thought, negative or otherwise, though negative seemed to be predominant. For a moment, Shriv felt like he had forgotten what it was like to relax, and that made him frown to himself because no one else was around to see it.

He was thankful no one else was around to see it.

For one, they might ask questions, and two, he wasn’t in the mood to explain his… mood.

He tried keeping up appearances with the cadets. They already thought he was a curmudgeon. They called him a killjoy behind his back.

He had heard about it second hand from Luke – he wanted Shriv to be nicer to the new blood, as he called them. He said he came off as “scary” and “mean,” and that he should be trying to instill a sense of camaraderie, giving inspirational speeches, not the opposite.

Shriv wasn’t trying to instill anything. He was just telling it like it is. If they couldn’t handle his authenticity, well …

Sooo sorry I don’t find fighting wars and nearly dying everyday to be the pinnacle of excitement. I apologize for warning them about the risks and dangers involved in going up against an evil, despotic Empire who rather kill them than use them as slave labor just for wearing this damn uniform.

That was what he had wanted to say. Instead, he said: “Yeah, sure, OK.”

Then he had coughed on purpose, followed by a terse: “Commander.”

The terseness had also been on purpose.

Oh, but Shriv wasn’t considered to be his equal even though he was not only a member of the Special Forces, but a Commander in the Alliance Navy, a Marksman, and a damn good pilot.

Far from it.

Luke Skywalker was a Jedi with magical force wieldy powers that could make people smack into walls, or he could slice them in half with his glowy laser sword-thing.

He won medals and made girls smile.

Shriv only made girls give disgusted faces.

He supposed he should be thankful he was on their side, not annoyed one bit that he had told him how to do his job he had been doing since before Luke had even bothered to show up.

Yeah, OK, so he had blown up a Death Star.

Even Shriv had to admit that was impressive, but he didn’t want to.

Besides, he had help, but everyone seemed to forget that little tidbit of information.

Han Solo didn’t forget that tidbit of information.

In fact, he talked about it daily.

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Next Time, Try Knocking

Cad Bane x Jedi!OFC

(moodboard by lifelikefae)

NSFW - 18+ ONLY

CHAPTERS

In which Cad Bane makes a new accquaintance who is not what she seems.

Bane breaks and enters. Senna makes another bad life decision.

Bane updates Senna on his mental health.

Bane starts catching feels and finds the whole thing highly #cringe. Senna forgets to close her blinds.

Bane and Senna run into each other at a party.

Senna finally realizes the extent to which she fucked up…

Bane gets a glimpse of the Sentinel’s Dark Side…

Senna tells Bane. Bane takes it about as well as you’d expect.

Bane gets sloppy. Senna gets a tip.

They’ve got to stop meeting like this…

Consequences? For MY me? It’s more likely than you think…

In which Senna is on probation and Banes gets… a phone call?!

Bane asks Senna to hold onto something…

please don’t tell my mother about this chapter

ET goes full narco-terrorist. Senna has a bad trip.

Bad feelings are had by all.

Bane to the rescue…

EXTRA

Bane’s Story (Ch. 3.5)

Phlox’s Story (Ch. 5.5)

Bounty Hunter AU

Kom’rk AU

OC moodboard

The tag

Freddie Stroma in Peacemaker Season 1 Bloopers

AWWWWWWWWWWWWW~~~~~~~~~~~

now I have a story written SPECIALLY for me 

For @siberianallen 😊 I hope you like it! 💙

#20 “My ex-boyfriend is here please scent me before he tries to do something.”

“Oh crap…what is he doing here?” you mutter to yourself, eyes tracking the Beta that just sauntered inside the restaurant, and you felt your shoulders tense at his sudden appearance. 

“What are you talking about?” a voice chirped next you and you ripped your eyes away from your ex-boyfriend to your current boyfriend. 

Green eyes darted around the dimly lit restaurant behind wireframe glasses, clearly trying to spot what caught your attention, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. You had visited Adrian at work, planning on picking him up so you two can go to the movies, and spent the remaining time trailing around him as he cleared tables before the end of his shift. Now, you were perched on the edge of the table as Adrian slowly wiped it down. Before you could say anything, you saw your ex look in your direction, and your skin crawled at the smirk on his face as he began approaching.

You whip your head back towards your boyfriend with wide eyes. 

“My ex-boyfriend is here, please scent me before he tries to do something,” you hiss with wide eyes. 

Adrian frowned at your sudden tone, eyebrows pinching together in confusion, before his eyes dart behind you once more. Understanding finally dawns over his features.

 “Sure thing, lover!” he chirped, a bright smile curling his lips as his eyes crinkled adorably at the corners, and you were suddenly yanked towards him. 

His lean muscular body curled around you, toned arms wrapping around your waist tightly, and he immediately ducked his face under your chin and began scenting you thoroughly. You could only gasp.

His scent tingled in your nose, fresh earth and crisp pine, with undertones of leather and gunpowder. Your Alpha rubbed his face against your throat, even licking at your scent gland with a pleased hum, and your knees nearly gave way at the sensations. His curly hair was soft against your face and you purred softly at him. Someone clearing their throat behind you had your body tensing up, the pleasant fog in your brain lifting, but your Alpha was already talking by the time your brain started to work. 

“Clearly busy, man. Go away. I’m sure whatever you want to say is way less important than what I’m doing,” he said casually, tilting his face up so he could peer over your shoulder, and you could feel his arms tightening around your waist. 

“I was hoping to speak to-,” your ex continued snidely and Adrian cupped one hand at your nape, pulling you closer as you shivered at the grip of his calloused hand, and he snorted a laugh. 

“Nope, not gonna happen. Unless she wants to…which I don’t think she does…so back off my Omega,” he chirped, a smile clear in his voice, but you could hear the faint edge of steel in his tone and could picture how his green eyes would glitter dangerously.

There was some shuffling, some huffing from the Beta behind you, but you ignored him in favor of pressing closer to your Alpha. You knew he was still staring down your ex, knowing how intense it was to be on the receiving end of his intense gaze, you could almost feel sorry for the man. After some light grumbling he turned and scurried away, making your body slump with relief, and Adrian started down the man until he was out of the restaurant. Once he was satisfied he was gone, your boyfriend pressed a smiling face back into your throat for a lingering kiss, and you petted his soft air with your own smile. He continued to scent you languidly and you tilted your chin up to bare more of your throat to him. 

“Want me to kill him?” he asked curiously and you just laughed. 

You knew he was serious, but couldn’t help how your heart swelled with love.

because I can~

first time writing jake martin so forgive ooc characterization 😅 i SWEAR this wasn’t supposed to be this long 😭😭 title is from move by milo greene but the fic is inspired by the dialogue:

“Go figure out what you want.”

“I want you.”

PART ONE. 6k+ words.

It should be simple. You’re into him, he’s into you. Unfortunately, Jake likes to make things difficult. Contains flirtation-ship to lovers, mutual pinning, angst, jealousy, violence -> PART TWO will contain dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected sex.

-> all the other lovers want to dance with you <-

“Do you like me?” 

One of his AirPods falls out with the force his head jerks up, and his startled green eyes connect with yours. He pulls the other one out, pausing his playlist for good measure. It’s a simple question, proposed in the quietude between shuffled songs, but he’s still confused.

He glances around in case you’re speaking to someone else. There’s no one in the immediate vicinity, only him at the circular white table. He sits up, settling his elbows on the table’s edge, head tilted like a puppy. “What?”

You do that cute thing where you try to bite back your smile; usually, you fail but this time it’s an odd success. “Are you into me?” you ask, and your normally lighthearted demeanor dropped. The softness of your voice catches him off-guard, your tempting gaze deep with conflict. “Like… do you like me?”   

“What? No!” is his knee-jerk reaction, a reflex that tumbles out of his mouth before he realizes it—so vehement, it’s almost harsh. He doesn’t know if you flinch because of the answer or the volume. Either way, he cringes internally at himself and hopes to smooth everything out with, “I mean, what kind of question is that.” His play-it-off laugh is nervous. “We’re friends so, duh, I like you.” 

You’re quiet for a moment. Your stare pins on him, captivating depths torn about something and searching for the answer in him. Whatever it is, your chest rises with an inhale, and your shoulders slump on the exhale. You aren’t mad. Something like disappointment marrs your pretty features, he realizes, and his stomach tightens like he’s sick or something.

Your nod is slow. “Right… right.” The latter word is faint, more to yourself, and your smile doesn’t feel like it should. “Okay, got it. Thanks for clearing it up.” 

He adjusts in his chair awkwardly. “Why do you ask?”

The unknown emotion wipes clean from your face. You’re back to bright and bouncy. “No reason.” He hopes you don’t see his sigh of relief. Your stance straightens, and you head in the opposite direction. “Ben?” You’re addressing one of the mechanics, hesitating on, “I… I’m down, if the, um, offer is still there.” Before you leave, you spare him a blind wave. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

“Y - yeah. Of course,” he calls to your fading figure (and what a fine figure that is). The exchange is weird but he’s cool and you are too. Nothing to fret about, and he shrugs it off. 

In your egress, something loud crashes, and there’s a faint hoop and hollering. He lifts his chin in an attempt to see the source, but to no avail. From the same direction, Kevin walks out into the common area. 

“What was that?” He jabs out an accusatory finger. “You guys better not have messed up my car!” 

Kevin rolls his eyes. “First, that’s not your car,” he points out. “Two, you’re the only one who messes it up. And three, how would someone mess it up if it’s right there?” The pristine piece of machinery is indeed parked behind him, and he’s satisfied with that. “I still can’t believe she said yes. Great. Beth won the bet.” 

“Who said yes to what?” 

“Our photographer, your ‘friend’—” He scrunches the word. “—just agreed to a date with Ben. Aren’t you guys ‘close’?” There he goes with the scrunching. “Didn’t she tell you? I thought she came out to talk to you.” 

Jake jolts. “What? Why?” 

Kevin cocks a brow. “What do you mean why? Have you seen her?” The second he hears himself, he raises a halting palm. “Dumb question. Considering you’ve been flirting with her since the second she walked through the door. Now, why she said yes, don’t have a clue. Maybe because he asked.” 

“Wrong. I’ve been flirting with her since she came to my race,” he clarifies matter of fact and proud until he registers the second part, and his forehead creases. “Wait, you’re telling me she’s going out with him?” He considers that possibility. No way. He dissolves into laughter to near giggles. “That’s funny.” 

“Not a joke,” he interrupts, folding his arms while commotion goes on somewhere in the distance. “That sound? He’s basically throwing a parade.” On a pause, he narrows his eyes on him. “Hold on. What’d you say to her? I swear to God, she was going to say no. She has been since she started working here.“ 

“I’m not… sure,” he says, dumbfounded. There’s this echo of alarm in his ears as he wraps his head around this information. He told you no. You said yes to another guy. Is there some significance there? He tries to put it together but the gears won’t crank. All he knows is that his chest constricts, and he can’t figure out why. 

What in the everloving fuck just happened? 

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Warnings: Kissing, flirting, sexual innuendos, humor, blowjobs, male receiving oral. Smut / fluff / mildly dubious consent but not really? Dry-humping, self-esteem issues, self-degradation, self-doubt, mild feelings of worthlessness and slight depression.

Word count: 4.8k+

Summary: Shriv Suurgav is overworked - he sits alone, or tries to, in his office. You’ve come to bother him, or better yet, help him find a way to relieve his stress. This “Duros under duress” must relax.

Notes: I write Shriv Suurgav entirely different from the way I write Cad Bane, so be prepared for a more “ stream of consciousness” type style. I love getting inside this neurotic Duros’ head. Inspired by me eating a lollipop on the way home from work. “A blowjob a day keeps the melancholy away.” - @amiquinn99​ 

Half a parsec. No. Maybe a whole parsec.

Two parsecs?

Perhaps a parsec was not the right unit of measurement to use in this situation, but Shriv absolutely felt that was how far away he was from finishing this list of menial tasks that was supposed to get done by the end of the day.

It was too much for just one day. Or any day. It was never ending; just a nearly insurmountable heap of red tape and bureaucracy, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Well, almost nothing.

He supposed he could launch himself out of an airlock, but death might be just a little bit worse than having to answer to Lando about this one particular report that was due two standard hours from now.

Who was keeping track of this stuff, anyway? Would they know if he hadn’t submitted it on time? Was Lando really that interested in learning about the finer points of the Pathfinder’s last ground assault? The fact the 61st mobile infantry had lost so many soldiers on Haidoral Prime that they were organizing a recruitment event to try and persuade locals to join their cause?

Not to mention the dangers of Imperial espionage – you never knew who was going to show up to these things. That’s why he stayed away from them. He was too skeptical – they said he would only hinder the process. It was fine by Shriv. He had better things to do.

Let them deal with the repercussions. They couldn’t say he hadn’t warned them.

Of course, the stress of those better things alone was enough to give anyone a stroke; but Shriv did what he did best in these scenarios: he sucked it up. Only today it wasn’t going so well. He had too much on his mind.

When did he not have too much on his mind?

Shriv couldn’t remember the last time his head was absent of thought, negative or otherwise, though negative seemed to be predominant. For a moment, Shriv felt like he had forgotten what it was like to relax, and that made him frown to himself because no one else was around to see it.

He was thankful no one else was around to see it.

For one, they might ask questions, and two, he wasn’t in the mood to explain his… mood.

He tried keeping up appearances with the cadets. They already thought he was a curmudgeon. They called him a killjoy behind his back.

He had heard about it second hand from Luke – he wanted Shriv to be nicer to the new blood, as he called them. He said he came off as “scary” and “mean,” and that he should be trying to instill a sense of camaraderie, giving inspirational speeches, not the opposite.

Shriv wasn’t trying to instill anything. He was just telling it like it is. If they couldn’t handle his authenticity, well …

Sooo sorry I don’t find fighting wars and nearly dying everyday to be the pinnacle of excitement. I apologize for warning them about the risks and dangers involved in going up against an evil, despotic Empire who rather kill them than use them as slave labor just for wearing this damn uniform.

That was what he had wanted to say. Instead, he said: “Yeah, sure, OK.”

Then he had coughed on purpose, followed by a terse: “Commander.”

The terseness had also been on purpose.

Oh, but Shriv wasn’t considered to be his equal even though he was not only a member of the Special Forces, but a Commander in the Alliance Navy, a Marksman, and a damn good pilot.

Far from it.

Luke Skywalker was a Jedi with magical force wieldy powers that could make people smack into walls, or he could slice them in half with his glowy laser sword-thing.

He won medals and made girls smile.

Shriv only made girls give disgusted faces.

He supposed he should be thankful he was on their side, not annoyed one bit that he had told him how to do his job he had been doing since before Luke had even bothered to show up.

Yeah, OK, so he had blown up a Death Star.

Even Shriv had to admit that was impressive, but he didn’t want to.

Besides, he had help, but everyone seemed to forget that little tidbit of information.

Han Solo didn’t forget that tidbit of information.

In fact, he talked about it daily.

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