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Sharp Edges - Crosshair x Reader [NSFW]

Collaborative work with @lightwise... What started off as self-indulgent Crosshair smut has evolved into a fully-developed fic, with plot, character development, twists and turns, angst, yearning, and plenty of delicious *spice*. ;)

Blind Date Gone Wrong

Blind Date Gone Right

The Roof

The Nightmare

Spice and Advice

The Tattoo

Work Party, Part 1

Work Party, Part 2

Carnival Games, Part 1

Carnival Games, Part 2

Showers and Plants

The Rescue

Shots Fired, Part 1

Shots Fired, Part 2

Introductions

Clarifications

Shattered

Kintsugi

Conspiracy

Coat Dinner

Kashyyyk

Spreading Wings

Cat Breakfast

Kaller

Taking Flight

Nesting (Epilogue)

Do ya love it?? Reblog it! :D

Sharp Edges - Crosshair x Reader [NSFW]

Collaborative work with @lightwise... What started off as self-indulgent Crosshair smut has evolved into a fully-developed fic, with plot, character development, twists and turns, angst, yearning, and plenty of delicious *spice*. ;)

Blind Date Gone Wrong

Blind Date Gone Right

The Roof

The Nightmare

Spice and Advice

The Tattoo

Work Party, Part 1

Work Party, Part 2

Carnival Games, Part 1

Carnival Games, Part 2

Showers and Plants

The Rescue

Shots Fired, Part 1

Shots Fired, Part 2

Introductions

Clarifications

Shattered

Kintsugi

Conspiracy

Coat Dinner

Kashyyyk

Spreading Wings

Cat Breakfast

Kaller

Taking Flight

Nesting (Epilogue)

Do ya love it?? Reblog it! :D

Crosshair and Omega hug

Hugs! -- Crosshair isn't sure how to proceed - I imagine he'd just freeze

Love it

Love this story

Sharp Edges, Part 2 - Blind Date Gone Right

I couldn't resist picking up at the end of this blind date fic, because the Crosshair energy was just *chef's kiss*. This is smutty smut smut, with a bit of plot, and hopefully will be very satisfying. ;) Thanks to @lightwise for brainstorming a bit, and stay tuned for more parts, because there's definitely more to be written here. Also, this dives RIGHT in, so it's best to read that fic first, otherwise this is quite an abrupt start. ;)

Crosshair x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.7k Content Warnings: I never know how to do these... groping, kissing, teasing, grinding, unprotected P in V. Dividers by @samspenandsword and @djarrex

Chapter 2: Blind Date Gone Right

Things were getting hot and heavy VERY quickly, so much so that you found yourself a little self-conscious out in public. You pulled Crosshair around the corner, tucking into a crevasse between two buildings and tugging him back against you. He was a formidable force, a burning passion with a knife’s edge, and you were lost in him. He reached under your shirt, and you sucked in a sharp breath, pressing your forehead to his as his hand teased along the underwire of your bra. He breathed a single chuckle, dropping his lips to yours yet again as his hand grew firmer, pushing up the bra cup and cupping the breast underneath. He gave it just enough of a squeeze that it would have hurt if he’d gone any further, but as it was, it was driving you mad. It conveyed possession and power, and you were in just the mood for the energy he was bringing. As his thumb brushed across your nipple, timed perfectly with the gentle tug on your lip from his soft mouth, you made up your mind. 

“Listen,” you gasped, pushing on his hand with your own, through your shirt, to stop his movement for a second, “You’re not gonna have me in some random alleyway.” 

Crosshair exhaled through his nose in what probably passed as a laugh for him, standing up and reclaiming his hand. “Fair enough. But I’m gonna have you?” he provoked, tilting his head slightly so your mouths were inches apart. The heat and desire radiating off of him was palpable, and you began to rethink your declaration to move this elsewhere, but shook the thought away. 

“My place isn’t far…” you murmured against his lips, feeling slightly vulnerable at the invitation when all the interaction so far had been swapping little barbs. His response was to run a hand down your side and under your thigh, gripping it and lifting it to his hip, leaning into you again. Stars, you were in trouble. He kissed you again, lingering this time, and you could feel his hard length pressing into you through your clothes. 

“Lead the way,” he said, releasing you so suddenly that you thought you’d fall, except he was so close, one arm wrapping around your waist as you headed for your apartment. 

The door opened to your place, dark and quiet, with an expansive view of the city from the floor-to-ceiling windows across your living room. It was plain, minimally decorated, and highly focused on functionality, although there were little trinkets that showed your personality peppered throughout. They were usually missed by the casual observer, however, and you liked it that way. You dropped your keys into the box by the door, kicking off your shoes, and walked in a few steps. Crosshair followed, scanning the room quickly before closing the door behind him, and you turned to face him, trying to decide how this would go. 

Should you jump him right there? Should you take a shower first? Have some conversation? Offer him a drink? The change in scenery had put a slight damper on the heat of the moment, and you felt thrown off balance. Crosshair, however, seemed as unruffled as ever, slowly lowering his coat down his arms and laying it over the back of a nearby chair. When he came back toward you, the slight lowering of his chin and the smoldering intensity in his eyes sent a burst of heat straight between your legs, and you felt adrift no longer. 

In two short steps, he was upon you, lifting you onto the kitchen counter and pressing himself against you again. You wrapped your legs around his waist, yearning for every inch of your bodies to be touching, and dug your fingers into his hair as you kissed him again. His nose smashed against your cheek as his hands slid under your shirt, pulling it upward. You lifted your arms above your head, hair scattering over your shoulders as it came free of the clothing, and Crosshair tossed it to the side, tracing his fingers across the curving tops of your breasts. His rhythm was tantalizing… hot, heavy, and passionate, then pulled back, teasing, enticing… 

He lowered his head to your neck, kissing and sucking now, which made you flinch and giggle involuntarily as his lips closed around a ticklish spot. It was starkly out of character for you so far, and he pulled back in surprise, meeting your eyes. The soft expression of bemusement on his face was unfathomably tender, warming you to the core and fanning the flame of your desire even more. You kissed his mouth, his cheek, his jawbone, his ear, and a quiet, guttural moan escaped him as you clenched your fists around his silvery locks. Now it was his turn to undress as you tugged on his gray sweater, messily pulling it over his head, feeling your heart thrill at the sight of his perfectly-smoothed hair re-emerging as a tousled mess. His undershirt was tucked into his pants, secured with a classy, simple belt, and you bit your lip impatiently, fumbling with the buckle at his waist. 

“Well aren’t you in a hurry…” he said finally, voice hoarse with arousal. You stopped, meeting his gaze evenly, even now captivated by the ridiculously sexy curve of his intense eyes. 

“What, do you want to sit and talk about feelings first?” you countered, and he smiled, more of a genuine smile than you’d seen all night, then leaned forward to graze his fingers along the edges of your bra cups again, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“I just didn’t think the kitchen was much of an upgrade from the alley.”

“Fair enough,” you said, pushing him back as you slid off the counter. You hooked a few fingers around his belt and pulled him behind you to the couch. It was your prized possession -- deep, comfortable, and spacious -- and also provided the perfect excuse to avoid bringing anyone into your own bed. You didn’t like bringing people into your bedroom; it felt like a safe place just for you. Perhaps it was one of your “weird” vulnerability things, but no one ever stuck around long enough to know that. Standing next to the couch, you tugged at his belt again, watching with lusty eyes as he smirked while he unbuckled it. His pants slid to the floor, and he kicked them off with his shoes, leaving him in a plain undershirt and boxer briefs that clung to his figure. And boy, did he have a nice figure. The coat had covered it before, but his slender thighs were more defined than you’d have guessed, and his ass was actually surprisingly grabbable, which you wasted no time in testing out. 

Reaching your arms around him and giving his butt a squeeze, he squinted at you in a judgmental way that was void of any real malice. “Enjoying yourself?” he whispered against your ear, sliding his hands to your waist, where he nimbly unbuttoned and unzipped your pants far too quickly and pushed them down your legs.

“I am, thank you,” you countered, pushing him backward to a seated position on the couch. He sprawled out cooly, knees spread, arms resting across the backrest. It was the kind of body language that was just begging you to do things to him yet appearing as though he didn’t care one way or the other. It was intoxicating and infuriating at the same time. Right up your alley. You knelt on the couch, throwing the other knee across him, and settled yourself into his lap, feeling his hardness beneath, separated only by two thin pieces of fabric. He lifted his chin toward you, still not moving his arms, thin lips pressed together below pale brown eyes that drew you in. You shifted your hips a little, resting your hands on his shoulders, intentionally grinding against him gently as you leaned forward to take his earlobe in your teeth.

A barely-concealed shudder from him felt disproportionately rewarding to you, and he moved into action. He reached one strong arm around, pulling you close in a way that made you arch your back, breasts pressing against his face. The other hand snaked up your spine, pinching the bra hooks together so accurately that they sprang apart as soon as his fingers released them. He moved his hands to your shoulders, pulling one strap down your arm and off the end of your hand, then the other, each movement a drawn-out, languorous tease. 

You sat back, looking down at him with a confidence that you’d put on for so long you didn’t know it was feigned, straddling his lap, bare before him. His eyes met yours as one hand traced feather-light circles around a nipple, which sprang to attention immediately under his tantalizing touch. Your eyes fluttered shut as he lowered his mouth, brushing his lips along your collarbone, then down your chest, exhaling gently to send a chilling sensation across your skin. He reached the opposite breast, breathing on the nipple for a second before placing his lips around it. A tiny moan escaped you, without your permission, as he gave it a light suckle, raking his teeth across it as he pulled away. It made you clench and ache between your legs. He wasn’t supposed to be slow, or gentle. You’d assumed he’d rail you against the kitchen counter and be on his way. But this… this was something else.

He leaned back, observing your face and relishing the nearly-desperate look of desire across it. One hand still traced along the underside of a breast, tickling the soft curve. It was intimate… almost too intimate, you realized, and you stood up suddenly, panties soaked. 

“Panties off, soldier,” you commanded. It had sounded sexy and playful in your head, but came out incredibly flat, and Crosshair gave you an odd look. You cringed and shrugged, hoping you hadn’t ruined the entire moment, and he slowly pushed his boxer briefs down, never taking his eyes from yours.

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t talk,” he jabbed, and you raised your eyebrows in slight shock amid taking off your own underwear. His expression was void of malice once again, however, and his shameless snark had you wanting him even more, letting out a snort as you returned to his lap. His length was pressed up between the two of you, deliciously rubbing against your clit, and you rocked your hips against him, feeling the desire build. He dug his fingers into your hair, pulling it gently and sending sparks down your spine as he tilted your head back, breathing heavily amid kisses on your neck, your shoulder, your chest… The friction was almost enough to send you over the edge by itself, and when he grabbed one breast and sucked on the other with more force than he’d yet used, you gasped, grinding against him almost desperately. 

But it wasn’t to end that way. Suddenly wrapping his arms around you, he turned and dropped you onto the couch on your back, falling on top of you messily. He was heating up too, and a light sheen of sweat was coating his back as you raked your fingertips across it. Propping himself up with one arm on either side of your head, he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing gently against it but not diving in. You were dripping wet, aching for him to fill you up and give it to you good, and you bit your lip with a breathless whine at his teasing. He leaned forward, slowly pushing his cock up along your folds, across your clit, and back down, breathing heavily with the self-control and focus it required. You felt the tension building, as though both of you were about to come undone on one another, and you were growing more and more impatient. 

You lowered your hands to his butt, digging your fingers into his cheeks and pulling him toward you, arching your back. He licked a nipple again, gently pinching the other one, then trailed kisses up your neck and across your mouth, still pressing against you. 

“Crosshair,” you breathed, with such raw vulnerability that he felt something snap inside him, and he sat up straight, looking down at you in all your glory. You didn’t know what to say, but didn’t have to find the words, as he angled himself toward your entrance and slowly slid inside, slick with arousal. You gasped at the sensation; the friction on your walls was incredible, and when he bottomed out, pressing his hips against yours, he finally let out an agonized groan that nearly sent you over the edge. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in, coaxing him to continue. 

When he opened them again, he had a chilling intensity on his face, dark eyes glimmering in the reflections of the city skyline, and he pulled back slowly before thrusting into you with more force. You gripped the cushions next to you, turning to press your face into one to muffle the string of expletives that burst out of your mouth. He grabbed your hips, looking down at where his cock disappeared into you, sliding in and out with increasing speed. The sight was almost too much, and he leaned forward, wrapping one arm under your neck and lifting your head to bury in his neck and shoulder. Your hands roved across his back, fingers digging in, scratching, pulling, inviting more of the fierce intensity he was letting out. The sound of your sweaty bodies coming together again and again, punctuated with heavy pants and moans and whispers, was growing louder, and you reached between your legs to circle your clit, feeling close to your peak. He tilted himself upward again, changing the angle, and thrust into a spot that had you seeing stars, replacing your hand with his thumb, rubbing the spot with increasing pressure. 

“Holy kriff, Crosshair,” you whimpered, gasping for breath as your eyes clenched shut. Your unhinged neediness was intoxicating, and he growled in response, muttering expletives and encouragement of his own under his breath. The tightness was building inside, absolutely dizzying in the mind-blowing sensations of what he was doing. Two more thrusts and you felt your climax release with explosive energy, cascading waves of pleasure shuddering throughout your body. You cried out, gripping his arm beside your head and the couch cushion next to you with white-knuckled desperation. His gaze raked across your body, writhing beneath him, breasts bouncing across your chest as he drove himself in and out. When his eyes reached your face, tightly clenched in pure ecstasy, it sent him over the edge, and he gripped you tightly, chasing his own release as you moaned in delight beneath him. He gasped as he came, electrified by the combination of your feral energy and your body clenching around him, and as his thrusts slowed, his mind remained abuzz with carnal pleasure. 

He slowed to a stop, lowering himself on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him, relishing the complete oneness as he remained inside of you. It was nothing like what you’d expected, incomprehensibly intimate and connective despite the snarky fronts you’d both put up. You caressed the back of his head as it rested on your chest, tucked between your breasts, feeling the tickle of his release sneaking out between your legs. After a moment, he shifted, pulling out deliciously slowly and tucking himself between you and the couch back, pulling you against him without a word. A million questions were racing through your brain, but were also muffled, taking a backseat to the afterglow as he laid an arm around your waist, snaking it up between your breasts and taking one of your hands in his. 

The morning sun was streaming through the windows, causing Crosshair to squint the moment he woke up, sprawled across the couch in the living room. At some point, you’d pulled a light throw blanket over the two of you, and it was still tangled between his legs as he sat up, looking around with an expression of disdain and confusion on his face. He hadn’t meant to stay -- he never did -- but something about the way you’d drawn him in and left him feeling so… comfortable… had kept him from leaving. As he looked and listened for you, though, he saw the note taped to the shelf across from him. 

Off to work! That view doesn’t come cheap, you know? Anyway, I guess blind dates aren’t so bad after all. Thanks for… everything. 

It had your comm number beneath it, and he finished reading with raised eyebrows. No fawning morning full of questions about where you stood? Or thinly-veiled poking about when you’d meet again? He looked out the windows, taking in the city skyline that seemed to extend forever, and slowly got up. The details of your home weren’t lost on him, as his eagle eyes took it all in. Perhaps he would take his time getting out of there.

Read the next installment here.

Lmao

guys crosshair’s hand is fine, it just crawled off and joined the Addam’s family and its name is now Thing

Based on a little trend on Twitter 😋

Protective and loving Crosshair for Omega

I distinctly remember the first time I watched "Spoils of War/Ruins of War" (the day the episodes aired) and we got to this scene:

... and my first thought literally was a surprised "Huh, wonder why they focused on Tech here. I'd have thought they'd linger on Romar. 🤔🤷‍♀️" It just seemed like such an odd choice at the time.

Fast forward to now, post-"Plan 99," and this scene is one of the top reasons why I firmly believe the writers always intended to bring Tech back (even if they didn't end up doing so in this show).

I mean, really, why else would the directors/writers make the conscious decision to have Romar matter-of-factly talk about survival and then keep the focus on Tech here, instead of Romar?? It's not like, in-universe, Tech needed to learn that he's also a survivor like Romar - Tech is already self-confident enough to know that about himself already; and if the point of the scene is that Tech has discovered more common ground with Romar, that just reiterates that Tech already knows he's a survivor. So obviously the message was for us as the audience. The fact that this comes after two episodes of the show proving beyond any doubt that Tech is a WARRIOR, not "just" the brains of the team, and has him fight through and survive insane situations while injured, hammers home the link for us between "Tech" and "surviving."

But what about "subversion of expectations," you may ask? What if the point of this scene (not to mention the events of "Faster" and "The Crossing," just to name a few others) was to build up the expectation that Tech IS indeed a survivor against all odds, all for the sake of highlighting the bitter irony that Tech is the one who ultimately doesn't survive?

To that I say: "subversion of expectations" really only works well if the expectation is proven completely wrong. So long as there is any room for doubt as to a given outcome, the subversion can't stick. If the writers intended for the "survivor" angle to ultimately just be a misdirect and a cruel irony, they needed to follow through and prove well beyond ANY reasonable doubt that Tech actually died. (That means things like a body or a reliable witness (not a villain with ulterior motives); not to mention things like not having even the villain "witness" be deliberately vague about the issue, and not using the supposedly dead character as one potential red herring for the identity of a new unknown character.) And since the writers very much did NOT take the time to irrefutably confirm Tech's death, I cannot read the above scene as subversive foreshadowing. Rather, I still read it as a major hint that the writers wanted Tech to survive - or, bare minimum, wanted to leave the potential open for his return.

So, whenever I need a bit of hope that Tech is still alive out there somewhere, I just revisit this scene and remember that Tech, too, is a survivor ❤️❤️❤️

Love this