#quartermaster imagine

[silence-burns]

Midnight Snack

Fandom: James Bond movies

Q scratched his cheek and paused—he had oil on his fingers. He sighed, but didn't move to wipe it off. He was alone in the lab, like most days, and the chances of anyone dropping by in the middle of the night were slim.

He should’ve gone home hours ago, but the prospect of being faced with familiar dull walls and a silence broken only by the few meows of his cats wasn’t enticing. The downpour of rain and perpetually gray skies had put his cats into an almost hibernating state these past few days. His habit of playing with them before bed was put on hold, but he didn’t blame the cats—he understood, the past few days had been rough on him too.

Although it may have seemed it, Q wasn't a fanatic at his job. He appreciated the stability and various opportunities it provided him with, but he preferred to leave it behind once his shift was over. 

He noticed midnight passing a few minutes ago, the clock one of the few sounds in his lab. He should've gone home, but his mind would be able to wander there, towards things that would only bring more pain. He’d had enough of sleepless nights leaving him more exhausted than when he’d laid down. 

In the lab, he could at least be productive.

Q pulled the mechanism further apart. Being productive was a great thing while working for MI6, as it divided the few outstanding employees from the masses. It should've been a good thing to have those employees rewarded with new opportunities, right? 

Even when it meant taking them away.

Q tossed the screwdriver onto the desk with a clank. His chest hurt again. He couldn't be free from those thoughts even in his own lab.

He leaned over his desk, forehead resting on his crossed arms. The main principles of working at a place like this had always seemed so simple to him. Do your job. Keep your eyes and ears open. Don't get attached to anyone.

He had failed, rather spectacularly, at the last point.

The elevator doors opened with a ding that echoed sharply in the silent lab. Q wiped his face vigorously, trying to wipe away any sign of what had been bothering him. The last thing he needed was questions he didn't want answered.

Q froze when he noticed it was you who entered. His eyes jumped to the bruises and cuts on your face. Only then did he notice a cake in your hands. 

“You look like shit,” you said, nodding to the grayish smudges on his face.

“Have you looked in a mirror recently?” Q raised his eyebrows. “Did you get run over by a truck?”

“A taxi.”

“Should've called an Uber.”

“I'll be smarter next time. Care to join me?”

Q followed you to a cozy corner behind the shelves where the two of you had hidden a few chairs and a set of colorful lights over the last couple of years. Somehow, it turned into storage for all the things you might need while avoiding responsibilities during your breaks. It was better than going back to the more official part of the building.

Q sat down next to you, wondering how many of those trinkets you'd take with you after your promotion.

The cake looked pretty, although a little beaten down. He wondered where you got it in the middle of the night. Last he checked, bakeries in the area closed during the evening.

He took the offered fork. 

"This place is going to feel emptier without you. When are you leaving?"

"Technically my plane is in a few hours, since we've already crossed midnight."

"A shame. Good choice for breakfast, though." Q made a small salute with the fork.

"I'm a genius, I know. Whatever will you do without me?"

"Probably finish my projects faster, since there won't be anyone breaking the test versions."

You gasped dramatically. "How rude, my dearest Quartermaster! I was only making sure they would adapt to field conditions."

“Just like your face did? Those are going to be some magnificent bruises by the time you get to the airport. You will surely make a grand entrance.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your armchair. It creaked loudly, always one wrong move away from completely breaking down, but you got used to it so much it felt like the most comfortable place in the world. For many years it was, after all.

The cake was half gone, but you barely tasted it. Q seemed too engrossed by whatever thoughts made his brows furrow to notice all the crumbles landing on his vest. He made quick progress on the cheap cake, despite it not being up to his usual tastes. It's a strange thing, how much you can learn about a person throughout a few short years, starting with the way they leave for home and ending in their favorite flavors of cake.

“I'm sure they would've been charmed by my endless grace and wit, but they will have to live the rest of their sorry lives without it.” 

It took Q a while before he turned to face you, almost choking on the fork. “Am I missing something?”

You chuckled, stealing the last bite of cake. Somehow, it tasted better than the rest.

"You'd miss me a lot if I took that position, so I've decided to stay. For someone so intelligent, you really are dumb sometimes, my dear Quartermaster."

Q looked at the empty box and at the fork. For the first time in the last few weeks, his head was positively, completely empty. 

"You're such an asshole," finally came out of his mouth.

"I know."

"I hope another taxi uses your face as a parking lot."

"I'm sure you'd make a video out of—"

Q's hand found the side of your face, wrapping gently around your cheek and smearing oil over it. But it was only a fleeting concern, and was soon gone when he pulled you close and firmly put his lips against yours.

Once he pulled back, Q took in your dazed expression with a satisfied smile. “Glad to have you back, agent.”

#q x reader #q x you #quartermaster x reader #quartermaster x you #quartermaster #james bond #james bond movies #quartermaster imagine #no time to die

[snoweylily]

freddie as q

#james bond #the hour #00q #quartermaster #freddie lyon #can you imagine tho? #q showing up to the art gallery in a suit that costs more than my car? #gives a whole new meaning to moneypenny too

[darthlenaplant]

Since my usual contribution to this particular fandom is silly shitposts (and reblogging tons of awesome fics and arts by others), here's another one:

This time inspired by Life of Boris on YouTube, especially these two videos 1 2

James (and probably Alec) build a Vodka cooled PC for Q.

Why?

I dunno, either they (or only James) did something or James just wants to woo Q.

#00q #james bond #quartermaster #i am not even that big on the james/alec/Q throuple that very often floats around #so I'm mostly imagining only james building it with help (and the obvious SUPPLIES) from alec #friendship means helping your best friend build a pc for wooing purposes

[the-californicationist]

The False Alarm

TF141+/Reader TW: gangbang --- MDNI/18+ AO3 Link

Cleaning a long, hard pole was slippery business, and at your fire station, it was a particularly dangerous job. You had to be small enough to fit into the harness, but strong enough to self-belay, shining the gleaming gold rod as you traveled downward, repelling to the floor. 

So, imagine your frustration when you were left to clean by yourself while the rest of the house responded to a three alarm fire. You tried to make quick work of it, but there was a lot of pole to tend to, and you didn’t want to miss a spot. A dirty pole was bad news for everyone who needed to ride it. Safety first. 

It was all going pretty well until you neared the end of your job. You were about to lower yourself to the last section, your feet nearly able to touch the ground when you lost your grip on the rope attached to your harness. The clip liked to jam, so you tried to get it unstuck, but you realized pretty quickly that it was solidly knotted against you. You weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. To make matters worse, you were leaning at an odd angle, having tried to reach down to grab the radio that had been knocked to the ground when you lost the rope. But, it was flung too far, and you quickly discovered that it was way out of your grasp. At this point, you looked like a Christmas ornament, hanging loosely in your harness, swaying slightly around the pole. The only thing to do now was wait.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long for help. The three alarm fire had been a false one, and all of the men had returned rambunctious but unharmed. Your boyfriend, Captain John Price, was the first one through every door, and he was the one who discovered you in your trapped state. His eyes lit up in shock, and you heard his gravelly laugh as he approached you. Behind him, Sergeant Johnny MacTavish and his Lieutenant, Simon Riley, began to strip their gear for Gaz, the firehouse quartermaster. They were laughing right along with Price, jeering at you in your trussed up position.

Price spun you around toward him, and you came face to face with his bulging zipper. You were at the perfect height, staring right at his crotch, and he had to bend down to look you in the eye,

“In a bit of a predicament, pretty girl?”

You weren’t sure you liked his tone. It was lurid and suggestive, especially in front of his men. 

“Latch is stuck. I’ve been telling you to replace it.”

“Which one?” He knelt underneath you to fiddle with the harness, “This one?”

He tugged at the rope and moved it between your legs, purposefully shoving it out of alignment. 

“John!” You hissed, feeling the thick rope, as big around as one of his fingers, slip across your cotton pants and into the crease of your pussy, rubbing along your clit mercilessly. 

“Mmm, I kinda like you like this, love. Might have to make you a permanent fixture. What d’you say?”

“Get me down, babe. Please?” You resorted to begging. It didn’t help.

“Oy!” He whistled loudly, “Come look what we caught on the line today, boys.”

All six of the other firefighters sauntered over to you, jeering and laughing. 

“Wee lass is truly stuck?” MacTavish asked.

“Aye, look,” Simon smiled, showing him the latch, “She used the old clamp.”

As he stuck his finger underneath it, it tugged on the rope next to your clit, making you writhe.

Gaz laughed behind them, bending over from his glee,

“Ha! Guess the captain didn’t tell you he bought a new one.”

“Count your blessings, compa,” Vargas grinned, clapping a hand over Price’s shoulder, “Maybe we should leave you two here, hm?”

“I was about to dig into Johnny’s homemade chili, but now I’m hungry for something else,” Alex crossed his arms and shook his head as if in disbelief. 

You tried to look to Price for some guidance. The boys flirted a lot, but it was mostly harmless. This felt… different somehow. There was something predatory in their stares that made your body feel like it was ablaze.  

Price ran a finger along the rope that now stretched between your asscheeks and through the folds of your pussy, biting into your pants. 

“Shouldn’t let such a bloody good opportunity go to waste, huh, lads?” Price’s voice sounded like an invitation, and you felt all the air get sucked out of the room. 

You were parallel to the ground; face down, ass up, right in front of all of them. You were trapped, surrounded by seven enormous men, and all you could see were their legs from their belt buckles to their boots. You knew who they were; you’d been friends for years, after all, but it didn’t feel so friendly now. You felt like their prey. 

You watched Price kneel beneath you. He smiled sweetly at you and whispered,

“You trust me, pretty girl?”

You nodded, and brought your hands up around his neck to kiss him. His mouth melted into yours, sending static tingles of pleasure though the rest of your body. He kept kissing you while his men stood around you, watching like dogs as Price literally dangled their treat in front of them. 

Then, he pulled away, standing up in front of you. You felt his fingers digging under the bottom of your shirt hem, and he tugged off your tee shirt, exposing your body to his team. Your breasts were contained only by a thin cotton bralette, and at this angle, they hung away from you as you swayed in your harness. 

Price took the bra off of you and bent to suckle from your nipples, licking and biting them gently to make you moan with sharp desire. You suddenly felt a hand that wasn’t his on your ass cheek and you gasped. Price chuckled, fondling your breasts with his huge, callused hands, teasing you,

“Are you shy, baby? It’s just MacTavish. You know he gets handsy.”

“Sorry, lass,” you heard the Scot behind you as he squeezed your ass and thighs, pulling them apart from your center, “Couldnae resist. Look good enough to eat.”

“Dig in, Sergeant,” Price offered you up like an appetizer, and tossed Johnny his emergency shears. 

Your eyes went wide, 

“John! My –”

“I’ll buy you another pair, love. Now, let’s give you something else to do with that mouth, why don’t we?”

You felt the cold metal of the blunt shears as Johnny cut across your waistband and down the crease between your legs, letting the shears do the work for him. He knelt to slice around to the front and then pulled your pant legs off of you, leaving you hanging there in nothing but your flimsy thong. 

He situated the rope back into position between your thigh and groin so that it wouldn’t bite into you, and then you felt his mouth. You groaned loudly. You couldn’t help it. It felt like heaven to have him licking and sucking at your tender flesh, writhing his tongue into your already soaking hole. 

“Listen to that sound. So damn pretty,” Price pet you on your cheek and stuck his thumb into your open mouth as you keened, the pleasure building within you like a smoldering blaze. 

You heard his buckle rattle open, and the whine of his zipper led to the quick release of his cock, hard and smooth. He pressed his head to your lips and you kissed it gently, licking around its crown hungrily. Unwilling to waste any time, he pushed into your mouth, rubbing himself deep enough to touch the back of your throat. You listened to his delicious moans and tried to take him in as much as his girth would allow. 

Then, MacTavish added a finger, stretching the walls of your pussy with it ever so gently, and you felt yourself starting to come. You were shocked by it, and it overwhelmed you so suddenly you knew that you were in for a turbulent storm of pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck, tha’s it, love. Come for us,” Price commanded, “Such a good girl.”

Your whole body trembled, unable to press or brace against anything as you hung suspended, and you heard Johnny moaning as he felt you contract with pleasure, listening to the muffled screams he was pulling from you as you were trapped around the captain’s cock. 

Price’s hand fisted your hair, guiding you down, grunting with each thrust. Then, he removed himself, stepping around to the side of you and placing one of your hands on his wet shaft. You started jacking him off, confused until you saw another pair of boots below your face. 

It was Alex.

Price’s hand was still in your hair, and you felt your face being lifted up to view Alex’s long cock. He let it rest against your cheek, its warmth teasing you in a surprisingly comforting way. You used your tongue to lick up and down his generous length. 

Alex moaned, 

“Fuck… No wonder you rush home from work, Captain. Holy shit.”

Price chuckled, releasing your hair so that Alex could do as he pleased with you, 

“She’s bloody brilliant, aye?”

You felt something tugging your body backward, and you knew Johnny had moved beneath you because his mouth was punishing your clit, making you want to come again. You moaned around Alex, making him cry out as well from the feeling. 

Then, you felt the tell-tale prod of someone’s cock nestling itself against your wet hole. Surprised, you tried to pull away from Alex to look behind you. Alex grabbed your head before you did, though and forced your mouth back down,

“Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay, sugar. It’s just Garrick. Lookin’ like he’s gonna die if he doesn’t get to fuck you right this goddamn second. Ain’t that right, Gaz?”

“Fuckin’ right,” Gaz grumbled, feeding himself into you as Johnny ate you out. 

You thought you might die from the pleasure. You came around him as he entered you, forcing him to stop. You were bearing down so hard that you thought you might accidentally wet yourself. You tried to get it under control, riding wave after wave of your orgasm as Johnny sucked your folds and fondled your clit. 

“Tha’s beautiful, lass. Your poor wee cunt doesnae ken what to make of all this, hm?” 

“She’s being such a good girl, Cap. Takin’ me so well,” Gaz crooned, reaching forward to rest his big hands on your hips as he began to thrust in earnest. 

Every time he pushed you forward, you would swallow deeper onto Alex’s cock, and Johnny’s tongue would rush through your folds and across your clit.

Suddenly, your other hand was being given a task to complete. It was Alejandro. He had taken your hand in his and bent to kiss your knuckles, soft and sweet as if you were a princess. Then, he let it rest on top of his uncut cockhead, allowing you to find a similar rhythm for him as you had for Price, rubbing his rod as steadily as you could manage. 

Alex increased his pace, grunting like an animal as he fucked himself into your throat. Price encouraged him,

“Don’t feed it to her, Keller. She wants it in that sweet cunt of hers, don’t you, pretty girl?”

You felt Gaz and Alex pull away from you at the same time, and you gasped, agonized by the hollowness that you were experiencing. Then, a warm hand braced against your ass cheek, squeezing you fiercely, and Alex pressed himself in where Gaz had been steadily putting in the work. 

The new sensation of another man’s cock was incredible, and with Johnny eating you like he was starving, you had no trouble coming with Alex as he pounded himself into you mercilessly. His guttural screams were tantalizing, and you wished you could see his face. 

“Fuck! Oh, my God – Fuck!” Alex grunted through gritted teeth, holding onto your body as tight as he could, filling you full of his come.

As he fell away from you, Gaz replaced him, getting back to his mission dutifully and with renewed vigor, slipping through the other man’s come easily. Johnny moved up your body, kissing your belly, sucking on your skin, finding your nipples as they jiggled while Garrick was fucking himself into you, and you watched someone new come up to your face. 

Simon bent down to kiss you, biting your lip and tasting his friends on your tongue. He licked your neck, sucking on the skin hard enough to leave a bruise. He joined Johnny at your breasts, suckling from the opposite one as the eager sergeant. 

Just as you were being lulled into an orgasmic trance from their ministrations, you felt Gaz shudder. He came breathlessly, gasping out quiet moans and little yeses and pleases and wordless prayers as he started to spill out into you. His cock reached further than Alex’s, and you felt a different sort of fullness as he held himself inside of you, throbbing against your cervix, tickling the entrance to your womb. 

You felt his plump lips leave a trail of kisses along your bare back, and then he pulled away from you, letting his and Alex’s come drip onto the concrete floor below you. 

Simon and Johnny stood, each taking their place at your throat and your pussy, entering you at the same time and letting out similar groans of agonizing pleasure. Johnny was stuffing himself into your cunt, and Simon was dragging his cock down your throat, going much deeper than you had ever taken anyone before. 

MacTavish was almost too thick, and he had to stretch you more than Gaz or Alex. He wasn’t particularly long, but he was curved in just the right way, and you started to scream, muffled by Simon’s dick in your mouth. 

It made Simon wild. He spoke to his sergeant in staccato’d bursts, 

“Fuck, Johnny. Just like that, mate. Makin’ her scream around me. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

“She’s so tight, Si. Shite! I’m gonna come so fast,” MacTavish groaned, pulling your ass cheeks apart as he fucked you, watching your asshole gape open as he did, “God, Cap. How do you last?”

Your captain chuckled darkly, petting your breasts as they swung freely, 

“I fuckin’ don’t, mate.”

Johnny was now sheathed in your pussy to his hilt, grinding into you rather than pounding, almost as if he was massaging your walls from the inside, making you feel so full. His hand found your clit that he’d been punishing, and he used your own fluids to smear lazy circles around and around. 

You could feel your legs begin to shake involuntarily. You tried to stop it, gripping onto Alejandro and Price for dear life in your hands, and crying out around Simon’s cock in your throat for relief. 

All four of the men were noisy now, basking in your rolling pleasure, watching you writhe and tense beneath them. Gaz returned to you, kneeling down to lick your breasts, sucking on them harder than Johnny did, taking more of your flesh into his mouth. 

Gaz looked up at your face, stuffed full of Simon’s cock, and he talked to you even though you couldn’t respond, drool dripping out of the sides of your lips,

“Are you havin’ a good time, babe? You’re so damn pretty. Look at these gorgeous fuckin’ tits.”

The way he was sucking on them was so intense that you felt yourself clench hard around Johnny, hearing him moan. 

He slapped your ass, grunting,

“Fuck! Again. Do it again, lass.”

You tried to oblige, bearing down on him and squeezing with all of your might. 

“Yes, yes, yes, gonna make me come - fuck!”

Johnny grabbed ahold of your harness and threw himself into you at a breakneck pace, the fluids inside of your core splattering you and him as he crushed himself into you. Simon pulled out of you, commanding you,

“That’s right. Scream for it. I wanna hear you.”

You let out a long, trembling whine, and then, 

“Oh, fuuuuckkkkk…”

Johnny ground himself into you again, painting your pussy with his come. There was so much of it that you could feel it now, settling in your belly. 

The sergeant pulled himself out of you with a slick pop, and bent to lick his own come off of your folds. You screamed again, feeling as if you would be shoved into another wild orgasm if he kept it up. But, then, Simon came to your rescue, grumbling, 

“Out of the way, mate.” 

Simon moved into place behind you, grabbing Johnny by his mohawk and shoving him back, and hungrily rubbed his cock through your ass checks, massaging himself. Alejandro took his position at your mouth and used you easily. Simon had done a good job of getting you used to his roughness when he fucked your throat, and his treatment of your cunt was no different. Johnny had been big, but he was a lamb compared to the lion taking you from behind now. 

Simon had pulled your legs around his waist, holding you in place there, and he was eager to fuck you hard. You felt your bones rattle as he slammed his length into you, making the most animalistic sounds as he did so. 

“Tha’s how she likes it, innit, Captain? Like a dirty little slag,” Simon observed, able to feel how your walls fluttered around him, excited and anticipatory.

Price smiled down at you, and you could see his hand leave your breast and search for your ass. He grabbed your ass cheek and pulled it away until your hole was wide open for him, and he used his thick finger to tease you within an inch of your life. You were transported to another dimension of pleasure, and he knew exactly how to turn you on.

“This is how she likes it, Simon. All her pretty holes filled.”

“We can do tha’, can’t we? Proper stuffed.” Simon laughed, understanding what you liked and fully happy to give it to you. 

Price removed his hand and Simon replaced it, spitting into his fingers and rubbing two of them just inside of your asshole, stretching you out. He then put them deeper in and pressed downward, feeling his own cock through the thin membrane between your two holes, groaning in a deeper, darker tone.  

Alejandro got your attention then by holding himself inside of your throat for a three-count, and then a five-count, and then for a period of time when you lost count. You were choking so much that your body was convulsing, and as he ripped his cock from your throat, rivulets of drool fell out of your mouth and onto the concrete. 

“A la chingada! Dame tu boca, mi linda.” Fuck it! Give me your mouth, pretty one. Alejandro lamented, kneeling in front of you and kissing you through your mess of spit and drool. He smiled and stood again, rubbing his wet cock all over the outside of your face, making you sticky with his precome and with your own fluids. 

He gave you just the head of his dick and you swirled your tongue around it, suckling from it like it would feed you, and he cried out in pleasure,

“Fuck! Are you gonna come or not, pendejo? ‘Cause I need to.” 

Simon didn’t answer. He just fucked you even harder. It was as if he had been holding back this entire time. He grabbed your hair and forced your body to arch high into the air, pounding into you with wet, slapping noises and grunting over your screams. You couldn’t continue rubbing Price’s cock, nor were you able to suck Alejandro’s head. You were at Simon’s demonic mercy. 

He came without halting. He fucked you right through his own pleasure, listening to you moan and feeling you bearing down around him, pushing his seed as deep into you as it would go. When he finally let go of your hair and removed himself from you, it felt like he was taking your insides with him. You felt so empty, it made you whine. 

“Shh, shh. I know, love,” Price soothed you, moving to your face to kiss you and lick your neck, “You’re doing so good. You ready for me, hm?”

“I need you so bad, John,” you told him through pleasure-wrought tears. 

“I know, baby. I know. Be a good girl for me.”

You nodded, feeling Alejandro push himself through Simon’s wet spend. It only took a few thrusts for him to coat your walls as well. There was so much come in you, your belly felt swollen. 

Finally, it was the captain’s turn. You and he were alone at the pole, and you felt him cut your rope in one quick slice. He caught you before you fell, holding you to him, knowing you couldn’t stand on your trembling legs. He lifted you up and made you turn to face the group of men who had just finished pleasuring you. They were all in states of undress, panting and laying on the firetruck or on the ground. Simon was jacking off again, as was Alex, thoroughly enjoying the show. 

Price fucked you like this, holding your body in front of him, letting you face his team as he struggled to fit himself into you. You had forgotten how big he was compared to normal men. Your eyes reflected your shock. Encouraged, the men began to stir, despite their exhaustion, nearly every one of them had his cock in his hand. 

You felt yourself come again, no warning this time, and Price let out a long, threatening growl,

“You are so fuckin’ beautiful, love. Did so good for us. Takin’ my men so well. I knew you could do it. Good girl. Such a fuckin’ good girl. My fuckin’ girl. Whose cock do you like best, baby?”

“Yours, John,” you cried out. 

“Whose?” He demanded, shouting at you through gritted teeth.

“Yours! Yours. Yours.” You chanted, feeling him begin to pulse inside of you. 

“Tha’s fuckin’ right.”

Price came in you so much and for so long, you thought you had mistaken what was happening to you. But, it was dripping out of you and onto the floor in little white splatters. 

Keeping his wits about him, Price whistled to Johnny and he came over with a big blanket, helping Price wrap you in it to keep you warm. You couldn’t stop shaking. 

Price smiled, bending down to kiss you as you were wrapped in Johnny’s arms, surrounded by the whole team, 

“Go get some rest, love. Your pole-cleaning duties are on hold… for now.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #cod #john price #captain price x you #soap x reader #soap cod #cod soap #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap mctavish #soap mw2 #soap smut #soap x you #john mactavish #call of duty #ghost smut #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley

[moodymisty]

Author's Note: Inspired by this post. You can blame all of the unhinged horniness there for this unhinged horniness. Someone there put the idea down as space wolves or Luna wolves and I chose Luna wolves because @bispecsual gave me the brain rot. And since I'm a massive masochist, I write.

Relationships: Like five unnamed Luna Wolves/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Very hornily charged bullying, Astartes are very curious and grabby, Demeaning speech, Just imagine you're that one girl on the couch in the meme surrounded by massive dudes but those dudes are 8 foot tall genetic abominations, Gangbang implications(?) my warning tags are getting weird as fuck

To the Luna Wolves, serfs are a new idea- a curiosity.

But after their good deeds upon a planet of little known renown and placement in the galaxy, a few of their population offered to serve them.

Before them, most serfs were primarily stationed on Terra, and on Luna Wolves ships instead those roles were given to low ranking tech priests, or penal labor. Even then however the Astartes saw them rarely, until now.

Some of the newly conquered planet offered sons as aspirants, of which they eagerly accepted. The Luna Wolves have been eager to grow their numbers now under Horus’ leadership.

Others, older and ablebodied, offered themselves to serve as serfs.

Many Luna Wolves can't remember the last time they've seen a normal human for more than a few moments, ushering them to safely into a Stormbird or pushing them from a firefight. Or seeing their corpse flung on the far reaches of a battlefield, out of sight and mind.

In their brief periods of reprieve from battle, it's now been a struggle for their captains and lieutenants to keep their men on task, now that serfs scurry around them completing various tasks. Particularly for the youngest marines among them, it's been a constant to stop them from reaching towards the serfs, interrupting their sanctioned duties.

They will get to you once finished with your brothers, is what the current quartermaster on duty or Astartes captain says. Though haste to have their armor cleaned or bolter clips loaded isn't the thing on their mind, but instead an almost dog-like curiosity.

But after their superiors leave, they always end up crowding around you again. These astartes have barely seen baseline humans in decades, let alone a woman.

It's suffocating.

You were nothing on your home planet. Insignificant. You’d hoped joining them would bring you purpose, something to be proud of. And to get off the planet that had you feeling so trapped. And while you got your wish, in a way the thing trapping you had merely changed form.

They have you cornered in the armoring room now; Like Wolves. You went from trapped on that no name planet to trapped by five different astartes. Your palms feel hot and sweaty, but not as hot as your face.

“You’re so small, you’re going to get lost on the ship,” One says.

He grabs for your chin and holds it for a moment, forcing you to look into his grey eyes. they're stoic, but you can see he's enjoying something about this. Though he allows you to shrink away and out of his grip, looking downward at their chest armor. Or anywhere else that isn't their faces.

“Or trampled,” Says another. The one who spoke previous gives him a sour look before passively aggressively replying.

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

One who hasn't spoken yet has his top armor removed, his lower half unpowered. He was training, using it as dead weight. Training concluded blood now drips down from his nose and lips but is mostly dried, partly covered healing bruises. If he looks like this, you can't help but wonder how his opponent looks.

It’s distracting.

You don’t know if it’s some sort of illness or insanity from being locked in this ship for so long; It makes him look more attractive. You hope to whatever deity or god or whatever exists out in the stars that he doesn't notice you’re staring. That he doesn't notice the way your heart is pounding in your chest and what feels like your cunt as well.

He does. As do the others. You can't kid yourself and think that with their hearing and smell that they haven't noticed that you're boiling alive, and that your body is screaming fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me-

“He won. Out of one hundred men.”

Your gut twists and the marine behind you laughs quietly. It's deep, enough so that you swear you can feel it in your chest. You would squeeze your thighs together for some relief, but you don’t think you can without stumbling over.

“She likes the winners. Looks like you’re out.” He gestures to a fellow marine that gives him another sour look. You briefly wonder what he lost at to deserve such a jab.

“I should return to my duties,”

You meekly say, hoping to remove yourself from the embarrassment and scurry away to another quarter of the ship.

One of them blocks your path and traps you from leaving, picking you up by the armpits and holding you before putting you back down between them all. It's like you weigh nothing to them, and that they can simply jostle and swing you around like a toy.

“I’ll tell your quartermaster you were helping us.” He jerks his head in the direction of a marine clad in only the casual clothing they wear out of their ceramite. Now the focus of your attention he rolls his shoulder, and you can see the muscles of his neck and around his collarbone flex.

You swallow a knot in your throat that felt like it was going to choke you. Your hands clench tight, nails sharp against your palms. You're going to have a heart attack, you swear it. Tears well in your eyes but they don't break your waterline just yet, from sheer will alone. If any of them say another word, call you cute, small, soft, that you smell so sweet, you swear they’ll roll down your cheeks like a waterfall.

“He wants you to put on his armor. The others are always so rough, you’re so gentle with those little hands.”

The marine reaches for you, and in your back step you stumble and accidentally bump into the one who hasn't spoken at all; Just watching and sitting. You stumble over his massive armored boot and end up falling into a sit on his thigh, legs parted over it. His massive armored hand comes to grip your waist, to keep you from falling over. It covers a good portion of your stomach in the process.

You’re so tightly wound just the simple pressure alone is enough to have you clamp a hand your mouth to avoid letting out a moan that would kill you right then and there, if you weren’t already dead. Your knees quiver, toes just barely touching the ground. His massive height makes it impossible to fully stand with his thigh between your legs.

You know they can smell the way you’re leaking and staining your underwear, hear the way your heart is racing like it's going to explode. You’re half afraid you might make his ceramite thigh plate slick.

You can feel their eyes on you. They look at you like you’re food thrown to a pack of starving wolves.

One suddenly steps forward, and pushes his battle brother out of his way with a harsh slam of ceramite on ceramite before undoing the latch his belt.

“I go first.”

#Sevatar daddy bully me until I c- what who said that #space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[yandere-sins]

After reading your yan! Ghost & König (both amazing btw!) I was thinking, what if there was a new soldier who decided to mess with their darling w/o knowing about the yandere OR they get warned by others and still do it anyway

Thanks for requesting! ♥

Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content, Violence

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

Ghost

♡ Against anyone's expectations, Ghost does barely anything to put the soldier in his place at first. He laughs when he's told the news, knowing better than anyone it doesn't matter. See, he has long worn you down. You are not as stupid as to engage with some random kid that tries to get close to you (aware or not who you belong to). Still, when he sees you uncomfortably trying to shimmy your way out of a conversation, Ghost will take pity on his beloved, walking up between you two and leading you out of the situation, wrapping his arm around you and throwing a mocking glance over his shoulder at the newbie who he never even spoke a word to. It's nothing to get angry about. Alas, he finds it a bit funny knowing how you walked away with Ghost without any hesitations, almost as if you had been waiting for him. Makes him mighty proud of his darlin'.

♡ However, if he finds out that the soldier did it on purpose, Ghost might initiate some revenge on the poor lad, asking the quartermaster to change his bed with the guy that is bunking next to the newby so he can give that kid a show of what he'll never have. It's a tiny space and much too open for the privacy Simon normally wants. But having you kneel before him like he's your god, making you choke on his dick and forcing you to take it all before fucking you right next to the person who wanted a chance with you, having you scream and moan for Ghost as he asks you who you belong to, is just such a delicious revenge. One that the soldier will never forget, especially not when Ghost throws you on top of him and fuck you from behind while the soldier lies there horrified by the sight (and hard as fuck) while you get pounded silly by Ghost. It should be enough to make him back off, especially when Ghost shows off his cum dripping from you as he lifts you into his arms, your legs wrapping around him just like he taught you to, telling that newbie to respect his elders next time and control his hands if he wants to keep them.

König

♡ Well, that's a problem if he ever saw one. As someone who's anxious himself, König can imagine how uncomfortable the advances of someone you don't know are. He got alerted to the trouble and, frankly, is pissed it didn't resolve itself by the time he got to you. There's a reason he keeps you at base—to keep you safe. No one gets to go to his little room and think they can chat you up and risk this safety he made sure of. Except... König didn't expect you to not be uncomfortable. You almost seem eager, a small smile on your lips as you finally get to converse with someone other than him (secretly, as you thought), and it makes him even angrier. He was ready to scare away the unwanted suitor, but the only person scared is you as you stare at his towering form standing behind your new acquaintance, his eyes full of murderous intent.

♡ There's a loud crash and a squeal, but all that is left behind of the commotion is a bloody trail leading to König's room. König shows no mercy as he drags the wounded soldier over the floor and into the privacy of his quarters by the leg, having just thrown him against a few crates to the point of the new guy falling unconscious. You don't make a sound, only step aside with your head hanging low, unable to keep yourself from trembling at the sudden outburst. König will tie the poor guy to a chair before directing his attention to you, taking off his gloves to cup your face and pull you close to him, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Are you okay?" he asks, eyes roaming your body as if it had been you who got beaten up, but when you nod your head, König nuzzles you through his mask, whispering a tender warning to never speak with someone other than him again, it is way too dangerous, before picking you up and placing you in his lap as you two wait for the soldier to wake up so König can give him a few reminders with his fist—the same hand that gently rubs your back and holds you in his embrace—to stay the fuck away from you.

#ghost #könig #yandere ghost #yandere könig #yandere!ghost #yandere!könig #cod #call of duty #yandere cod #yandere call of duty #yandere!cod #yandere!call of duty #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #lemon

[cornkernelcorp]

(LONG POST) Alright everyone, please say hello to..

THE BANANA CREW!!

that's what I call them, but really they're just the members of the stowaway and her many travels. I'll talk about them right to left :] First, we've got the general crew- the Boxer Shrimp Cookies. Named and based Banded Coral Shrimps also. There are multiples of them, with small differences in between. Imagine the minions from despicable me or sir pentious's egg boiz from hazbin hotel.

Then we've got Goldenback Shrimp Cookie as the master-at-arms. Small and formidable. Right after is Cowbell Cookie, designed after Dairy Cow Isopods. Their muscle and tank. She's the Quartermaster by title, but in reality Goldie and Cow are a one-two hit team. A small hotheaded guy who tells his big doofus coworker how to do her job. He wields a rapier whilst she hauls around a big mallet.

some more old drawings of them.. Now, the last gal isn't actually part of the crew. She's a Bounty Hunter! Whale Shark Cookie is a no-nonsense working lady, with a team of smaller shark cookies I haven't drawn. Banana Eel sees her as a rival, and consistently goes out of his way to ruin her day. She wants them dead HAHA (there's also the thing a friend persuaded me to do.. which is making Cowbell having a silly little puppy crush on her even whilst they try killing eachother-- BUT THATS ANOTHER STORY FOR ANOTHER DA)

anywayss that's about it! Planning to go through and make full clean renders of ALL of these guys so I can finally start making silly comics of them. thank you for listening to my ramble B)

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run fanart #cookie run oc #crk #crk fanart #crk oc #my art #banana eel cookie #bastard eel cookie #the banana crew #goldenback shrimp cookie #cowbell cookie #boxer shrimp cookie #whale shark cookie

[l0velylecter]

you're not my homeland anymore (so what am I defending now?) — phillip graves x afab!reader

THERE'S SOMETHING INTIMATE IN THE WAY HE POISONS YOU: even with his hand around your throat, fingers slowly constricting, you can't seem to fight him. A snake trying to subdue its victims, Phillip dragged his thumb lazily across the column of your neck to check your pulse — eyes flickering to the rise and fall of your chest. He was ready to devour you, sneering because he knew you'd let him.

summary : After his betrayal in Las Almas, as Shadow Company’s Quartermaster, you were left behind to clean up after Grave’s mess. It’s not easy to pick up the pieces of the life he shattered, but it’s even harder to heal when he keeps coming back to undo the stitches. pairing : phillip graves / afab!reader fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii rating : e for explicit, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : descriptions of violence, cursing, descriptions of sex tags : afab!reader, female parts, some plot, somewhat toxic/unhealthy relationship, manipulation, mild backstory for reader, choking, he’s a red flag but red is my favorite color, reader has a ‘i can fix him’ mentality so read at your own discretion, rough sex, angry sex, edging. word count : 2k note : font is normal sized under the cut ! song used for inspiration : exile, taylor swift

01| Twenty minutes is the fastest recorded time of death caused by snake venom, not a second less, not a second later. And twenty minutes is all it took for Phillip to betray you. Your hands were trembling around the monitor while he aimed his rifle at Soap. Knocking a stack of papers in the process, your fingers flew across the keyboard to call for help — Laswell, Price, Garrick, anybody: you were desperate, choking in your guilt as a bullet struck the sergeant. With tears streaming down your face, you screamed into the comms, begging for him to cease fire. The analog clock beeped. Eleven minutes. Then without warning, the noise disappeared, leaving you to listen to the harsh rain against the pavement.

You slumped against your seat.

" Phillip...what have you done?"

Fifteen minutes. After a few seconds, his voice emerged, distant and faraway, distorted by the static.

" It's nothing personal, baby. It's just business." He chuckled. Your face crumbled at the airiness of his tone, bile rising in the back of your mouth as you imagined the smell of blood.

Seventeen minutes.

"I'll see you soon."

The silence that followed was almost deafening, echoing throughout the room. Phillip cut off all communications: ripping the camera from his chest before crushing it under his heel. The sharp ring of the mic's feedback made you rip your receiver out. Nineteen minutes. You caught your reflection against the monitor's dark screen. Even with the blood tricking down your earlobe, you couldn't move.

When they brought you in for questioning, they found you doubled over the table: earpiece dangling weakly from your palm. They needed to take note of the time. They said it was protocol. Twenty Minutes. You tell them as they cuff your wrists. Not a second less, not a second later.

02| The court proceedings ended in autumn. It took months before all charges were dropped: compliance, conspiracy, tampering of evidence — just like that, 'treason' was no longer in your record. One final act of mercy they gave you before cutting you loose, knowing that it was easier to sweep their fuck up under the rug this way. You rewind the tape from your interrogations, closing the blinds shut.

" And what was your affiliation with Phillip Graves?"

Crossing your legs on the couch, you pulled the laptop closer. The audio was muffled, bleeding static: a consequence of the metal walls which surrounded the scene that unfolded.

" I worked for Shadow Company.” You replied in the footage, “ I was his quartermaster."

Your interrogators shared a look. His. Not theirs. The needle of the polygraph jerked sideways. Suspicious. Compliant. You cleared your throat, opening your mouth to rephrase.

" I worked in logistics. Mortuary Affairs, subsistences. I distribute materials and brief them on satellite-based imagines. I knew nothing about the missiles or conspiring with Shepherd."

" How could that be?" The man on the right crossed his legs, arms folded around his chest.

Ink continued to glide across the graph paper.

" Evidence showed that you were...intimate with the commander."

Feeling scrutinised, you scoffed. 

" What does that have to do with anything?"

" It has to do with everything. Surely, you understand how it makes it difficult for us to believe you were completely in the dark when you and Graves were so...close. Do you deny it?"

Blinking in disbelief, you slumped against your chair. For a brief second, you felt it. All of it. The weight of his arms around your waist. His fingers down your back. You thought of the moon and how his eyes melt into silver under its light. You hear his laugh when you fail to flip the egg against the pan. The scars littered down his spine as he lays next to you. Patchouli and sandalwood crowd the bathroom as you smear your fingers with his aftershave. The gunshots as they cut through the downpour.

The graph wavered. " Do you deny it?" They repeated.

You inhaled deeply, wiping your face with your palm. 

 " No. I don't."

The curves on the paper thinned into a vertical line. The men scribbled into their notebooks, gesturing to the cup of coffee they had given you. You tell them it's gone cold and stale. And under the yellow lamplight, the officer on the right stared at you almost apologetically — noticing how you’ve been staring at the printed picture of Graves strewn across the table.

“ And whose fault is that?”

That night you deleted all the files on your laptop before unplugging the USB, contemplating whether to flush gigabytes worth of confidential information: videos, pictures, documents down the toilet.

You ended up leaving it above the bedside table.

03| You used to like how warm Phillip's hands were. The weight of each finger pressed against your palm will usually shut you up from complaining about the cold. You've memorized every inch of his skin, the roughness and weight, too familiar to miss. Which is why you didn't need to raise your head to know it was him standing behind you: hand across your mouth. 

" It's been a while."

He maneuvered you against the hallway, slamming you with his arm across your waist. When you struggled, he only tightened his grip, lips ghosting against the junction of your jaw and neck. Shhh, he cooed, and you obeyed.

You hated yourself for complying. Noticing this, he let out a small chuckle — lowering the palm across your face down your chin to tilt your head upward, ignoring the small thud your skull made with the hard surface. 

" Did you miss me?"

You searched his eyes: cobalt blue, ocean-strong. They shined under the half-light pouring through the window.

Recoiling at his voice, your words were barely above a whisper, " How could you? You fucking snake."

He skimmed your cheek with his thumb. Once. Twice — Smiling at you as if you were having a regular conversation.

" We all need to shed our skin, baby. It's part of the food chain."

There's something intimate in the way he poisons you: even with his hand around your throat, fingers slowly constricting, you can't seem to fight him. A serpent trying to subdue its victims, Phillip dragged his thumb lazily across the column of your neck to check your pulse — eyes flickering to the rise and fall of your chest. He was ready to devour you, sneering because he knew you'd let him.

" You used me, Phillip. And you want to justify that by calling me weak? " You gave him a rough push, struggling against his grip. " I trusted you." "And whose fault was that?" Your breath hitched, heart heavy against the pit of your stomach. “ So was it all a lie then ?” His expression faltered. “ Not all of it.” “ Bullshit,” You spat, “ If you really did care then why didn’t you take me with you ? And what are you doing in my house ? What do you want ?” He laughed, teeth bared and head thrown back as if you’d just tell him a funny joke, before taking your mouth in a hard, biting kiss.

You startled, hands automatically flying to grip his tactical vest to kiss him back. Ashamed at how the response was almost automatic, you tried to break away.

“ I left you?” He fumed, “You think I abandoned you ?”

Phillip pulled you against his chest, breath ghosting against your lashes, “ Last time I checked, you were the one who got too fucking comfortable with one-four-one. Weren’t you the one who wanted to transfer units ?” 

You reeled at his aggressiveness, letting his tongue push into your mouth : hands tight around your body.  “ That letter to HQ was supposed to be confidential.” You reasoned, pulling away for air, “ And I wanted us, you and me, to transfer. Shepherd’s using you ! He’s going to sink your company and you’re going down with it !” He slammed a fist against the wall right above your head, the loud noise rolling down the empty space. Phillip growled, leaning down for your mouth. His hand hoisted your face up, teeth tugging at your bottom lip : forceful, all-consuming.  “ You’re a hypocrite, you know that? Spewing all this righteous horseshit when your hands are just as red as mine.”  “ What do you want, Phillip?” You sobbed, eyes screwed shut to stop the tears squeezing their way out. Your cry was silent, almost soundless. 

He loosened his hold, boots squeaking against the floor as he took a few steps back. You could have used this opportunity to make a run for it. To escape, to leave. Phillip was giving you a choice. Always, he gives you a chance to leave. But you never do. Instead, you submit yourself to this want, this need.

His hands were warm and familiar, running down your body, scooping you up, carrying you toward the bedroom.

His hands set you on fire, and you'd let him burn you.

04| The heat was blanketing your back, licking up your spine, sucking on your earlobe. His cock, driving in and out of you. Phillip pulled your hips up a little higher, and the change in angle dialed it up even more. White spots flaring in your vision —

“ It’s too much,” You sighed, and it sounded suspiciously like a sob, muffled by the pillow underneath. 

Your knees were trembling, struggling to support you. And you would have collapsed if he didn’t hoist you up against his hips. His pace was ruthless, hungry. 

And when your arms buckled as you relinquished control, boneless and submerged under the shudder of lightning-hot fire sweeping through you, body strung tight and just on the edge, Phillip suddenly stilled.

You tightened around him, begging him to move.

“ Please,” You whined, “ Phillip, please.” You can sense him watching you claw the blankets underneath, the cold surface of the fabric relieving you of your fever. You tried to wiggle yourself against him, but he had a vice grip on your hips to restrain you. The stillness was almost as painful as the lack of friction.

Without warning, he turned and lifted you to sit astride him, hands holding you against his chest to guide you down onto his cock. You nearly screamed as he set up a new rhythm, fucking you deep, making you take all of him. You clenched around him each time he pulled you up to drop you back down, feeling so full. Past your lips was a high, helpless noise as liquid, molten heat spread inside you, shaking every muscle. When you tried to hide it by biting into his shoulder, Phillip roughly pried you away: hands gripping your chin to look at him in the eyes.

“Look at me,” He commanded, anchoring you.

Your nails left trails of red, crescent moon against his back, orgasm within reach again. You were whispering into his neck, babbling nonsense as everything goes tense and bright — and suddenly you were hit with the feel of your breast against his ribs, the cologne you got him for his birthday mingling with the smell of sweat and sex, his heartbeat racing against yours.

Phillip groaned, voice husky and low as he cursed, hips stuttering to come inside you with desperate, shuddering pulses. 

And when you tip to the side and he guides you under the blankets, hands slack around your waist, you asked him again if it was all a lie. You were being lulled to sleep by the exhaustion when you feel a weight against your mouth, a phantom kiss, ghosting against your lips.

05 | Maybe you dreamt it. Maybe you didn’t. 

But the next morning, the space beside you was empty. Left with nothing but the imprint of his body against the sheets, your arms and legs ached in protest, as a slow, dull ache took root inside your chest. 

The USB by the table side was nowhere to be found. 

a/n : first fic after two days, and first fic of 2023 ! What a way to start the year : angsty, angry sex with phillip graves 🤭 i made him so toxic here but dw i know deep down he’s not always like this ( maybe i’m the silly little reader with the ‘ i can fix him’ mindset ) i hope you all enjoy this ! <3 

for graves fuckers : @cowboybxtch , @nfr89s​ , @kenobisjedi​ & more ! 🥴🥂

#phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #philip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #philip graves #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #cod #cod mw22 #cod mw ii #cod mwii #cod mw #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty smut #cod smut #phillip graves x y/n #philip graves x you #philip graves x y/n #cod imagine #cod imagines #grammarly is my beta reader

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 1 – STONY FAVORITES

When I Think (Oh, it Terrifies Me) by celli

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 8,643 Tags: Telepathy, First Time, Tony Hates Magic

Summary: Look, some mornings you wake up and little green men are invading New York City; some mornings you wake up and you can hear Captain America's voice in your head. Tony has been an Avenger long enough that he saves his freakout for important things.

Reasons why I love it: The humor in this is superb, it makes me laugh every time. Seeing how they care for one another even before they realize they want more is really, really sweet. And the conclusion in the end is brilliant in concept alone, but also so goddamn funny. Also, drunk-by-extension-Steve is a delight, always and forever.

I Hate You: A Love Story by FestiveFerret

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 14,558 Tags: College AU, Booty Calls, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Summary: Tony had honestly been stunned that his "Wanna fuck?" line had actually worked, but tasting Steve's desperation on his tongue now, it made a bit more sense. All Tony wanted was a handful of that muscular ass and a look at the abs he'd seen a hint of under Steve's painted-on shirt.

Reasons why I love it: Ferret never misses, and this fic is exhibit 399 of proof of that. I love the way Tony and Steve's relationship develops from begrudgingly in lust to actually caring for one another. And to top off a wonderful story, the smut is also superb. I've probably read this fic more than 30 times, but I always come back to read it again. It's definitely one of my comfort fics.

Exact Measurements Required by trilliath

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 13,517 Tags: Wardrobe Malfunctions, Humor, Crack Treated Seriously

Summary: That time S.H.I.E.L.D. quartermasters accidentally put Steve's balls in a vise and it goes exactly as well as you'd expect it to. Tony promptly offers to help. Because he's helpful like that. Obviously.

Reasons why I love it: One of my favorite Stony fics of all time. Not only is it scorchingly hot, but the way trilliath took this cracky concept and turned it into such a lovely story is absolutely amazing. Tony is hilarious in this, and Steve's inner monologue just takes the cake. Definitely read this, if you haven't already!

The Highest Form of Friendship by ChibiSquirt

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 5,661 Tags: Getting Together, Humor, Sex on a Car

Summary: “Imagine if I’d met you back in my hellion days,” Tony says, and Steve groans out loud. There’s a mental image, here. Well, Steve’s a visual kind of guy; mental images are how he operates. The mental image is of a baby Tony - okay, not baby; Heyday Tony, let’s call him - and Heyday Tony has dark eyes and a wide mouth, and the little pin-scratch frown that Nowadays Tony wears all the time these days has been magically retrotransformed into a confident smirk. Heyday Tony has the same lean strength that Nowadays Tony has, but he looks taller because he bears himself more aggressively, more straight-backed. Heyday Tony has poofy hair and a tendency to look all the way down, and all the way back up, at a person - regardless of gender - before meeting their eyes. Steve knows: he’s seen the videos. Has maybe studied the videos. Has maybe spent more time on that activity than strictly appropriate... “Can we not?” he pleads. “It didn’t happen that way, and it did happen this way, and that’s how it is.”

Reasons why I love it: Their chemistry in this one is just off the charts. ChibiSquirt's characterizations never miss, but in this one especially they completely knocked it out of the park. The fic is equal parts scorchingly hot and hilarious, so definitely give it a read, if you haven't already.

Unfurl Your Gown by theladyingrey42

Pairing: Steve/Tony, past Steve/Bucky Rating: E Words: 8,541 Tags: Crossdressing, Denial, Barebacking

Summary: "I feel ridiculous." Steve scowls at his drink and pretends he's not shifting just to feel the skirt against his thighs.

Reasons why I love it: I don't know why I have a huge thing for Steve struggling-with-gender-concepts Rogers, but I do. And this fic scratches that itch in the most satisfying way. It's heartbreaking in one moment, hot as hell the next, and finishes off with a conclusion that makes my heart melt every time. Tony is so lovely in this, supporting Steve all the way, and Steve's inner conflict is gloriously written. I can't recommend it highly enough.

#marvel #stony #fanfic #fic rec #fanfic rec #fanfiction recommendation #a year in fanfic recs

[al-astakbar]

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆part 6/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [2.1k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ none > series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted. thank you so much @starwh0ers for beta of this part :)

> series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

> posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

The two stormtroopers on either side of the wide double hatch come to attention as Thrawn strides towards them. “Good morning, gentlemen. Carry on,” he says, just as quickly, and you get the impression he greets whoever’s on shift this way every morning. He has to be the politest Imperial you’ve ever met. Most in his position, of his rank, would barely acknowledge anyone under his command outside his own bridge crew and cadre of senior officers. 

Inside, the bridge hums with activity, even while the ship is in stationary orbit. The officer of the watch announces Thrawn’s arrival. The Grand Admiral quickly waves it off; there are more important things on his mind than protocol. 

You walk in Thrawn’s shadow down the main corridor, all too aware of the questioning murmurs following you.

Once you’ve passed through a sort of foyer and mounted three short steps, a younger officer with neat, short cropped hair strides up, shoots a concerned glance at you, the non-Imperial interloper, and greets the Grand Admiral.

“Good morning, Admiral.”

“Good morning, Commodore Faro.”

“Shall I pass the word, sir?” 

Thrawn’s nod is all the signal needed. A junior officer stands by some sort of ship-wide PA system and blows on a shrill pipe. Then she says into the mouthpiece: “All departments make readiness reports for getting underway to the Officer of the deck in the pilothouse.”

Quickly, the reports come in. Supply, Weapons, Engineering, Operations, Combat Systems. A lot of it is familiar to you, but with slight differences that make you turn your head when you hear them. Shouldn’t be surprising. Many rebellion personnel were former Imps after all.

“I’ve word from the Quartermaster. Fuel and rations replenishment completed, sir.” 

“Thank you, Commodore. Munitions?”

“Ordnance chief confirmed complete last night, sir.”

“Very good.” When they are done, Thrawn looks to another officer, who is seated at a console. “Senior Captain Lomar,” he prompts, and the Senior Captain anticipates Thrawn’s order. “Fleet channel ready for you, Admiral.”

“Attention, Seventh Fleet.” He does not settle himself in the command chair, but crosses the command walkway to stand directly in front of the forward viewport, hands clasped behind his back. You hang back, and find yourself transfixed by his presence, unable to look away. “This is Grand Admiral Thrawn. I trust you have enjoyed your time in the capital.”

A round of appreciative, quiet laughter goes around the bridge, which you imagine is echoed on the hundreds of ships he’s addressing. Liberty calls on core planets, and especially Coruscant, were always popular, a chance for Imperial personnel to let loose and enjoy the best the Empire has to offer. 

“Our mission,” he continues, “is simple. To eradicate piracy and insurrection in the Limian Sector of the Outer Rim. To accomplish this, we will bring to bear the full skill and power of this Fleet. You have your orders. Carry them out with focus and professionalism, and we will be successful. 

 … and, good hunting. That is all.” He looks to Lomar, who ends the connection.

Commodore Faro is at his side again, stance wide, hands clasped behind her back. You’ve been on ships before, but had never seen them orchestrated with quite such precision.  “Sir, the ship is manned and ready to get underway. Permission to spin up, sir?”

Again, Thrawn nods and his crew react instantly. 

“Calculations for the jump ready, sir. Hyperdrive is spun up.”

“At your convenience, Commodore.”

She nods to a black-uniformed technician at a console, who slowly and steadily opens a heavy throttle.

You can’t help your quiet gasp as starlines flare out from a point right in the center of the viewport and then give way to the tunnel of hyperspace. The sight of it is beautiful and unexpected, and you’ve never had such a clear view of a jump before. Suddenly, you’re glad you didn’t stay in Thrawn’s quarters to pout and sulk. More than likely you’d have been stuck there all day with nothing to do except peruse his art collection, and you can’t be sure if he would even permit you that. 

** 

If getting to watch Thrawn and the view of the hyperspace jump is the high point of your day so far, meeting Brierly Ronan has to be the lowest. 

He strides onto the bridge late in the morning, and before you even know his name, you hear him chastising the stormtrooper guards before the hatch closes again. 

In a huff, he nearly gets his flowing white cape caught in it. 

Then, he notices you and loudly demands, to no one in particular, “who is this?!” 

Thrawn looks up and comes over. “Good morning, Assistant Director. Is something the matter?”

The Assistant Director draws himself up, puffing his chest out and managing a little flourish with his cape, even though he’s standing still. “Yes! There is. I want to know who this is. She’s standing in my spot.”

Thrawn’s eyes flick to the deck, as if trying to see where exactly the spots are delineated. “She was a gift from the Emperor.” He turns to you, making polite formal introductions. “This is Assistant Director Brierly Ronan. And may I present…”

At the utterance of your name, you feel an unpleasant jolt of shock. Companions like you were never supposed to be named in public. It just wasn’t done. Hearing your own name aloud feels vulgar, as if Thrawn had just announced to everyone how much he had enjoyed fucking you last night, and gone into explicit detail.

First he suggests you go without your veil, now he speaks your name. Perhaps he wants to humiliate you. This could be some game to him, but as you watch him, he does not show any sign of enjoying your discomfort. In fact, he seems oblivious to it.

Brierly Ronan, for his part, sputters and turns an ugly shade of red. “Do you really think this is an appropriate place to parade around your pet?” He spits. “Really, Thrawn, even with your famous disdain for the rules— or do you mean to share her with everyone here?”

A muscle in Thrawn’s jaw tics. He waits a moment in silence, a silence that attracts the attention of nearby crew.

“My pet?” He repeats. His tone is quiet and deadly, a trap inviting Ronan to try to explain himself.

Ronan draws himself up, unable to match Thrawn’s height. “Well, she’s obviously not a bodyguard--”

“Are you sure?” He waits for a response that doesn’t come, then continues. “They go through quite a lot of training, you know. She was in the capital for a year.”

“I know what the training entails!” Hisses Ronan. 

“And why should I not make known our Emperor’s generosity and good will? I will remind you, Assistant Director, that you are here not as a civilian, but due to your position as an officer in the Imperial military department of advanced weapons research.”

You understand the implication a moment after Ronan does -- despite him apparently having a rank as a civilian, while aboard this ship, his military posting puts him under Thrawn’s command. And he is, after all, wearing a uniform. 

Ronan stands a bit straighter, looking furious. 

Thrawn again leaves room, a polite incline of his head, for Ronan to reply. When none comes, Thrawn excuses himself to attend to other matters that require his attention. You are left standing there with Ronan, and when you realize that your silent, faceless stare is unnerving him, you force yourself to show the deference that is expected of you. He gives a derisive snort, as if he doesn’t quite believe whatever act you’re putting on. The urge to persist, and entertain yourself by irritating him, is strong, but you know you shouldn’t-- not just to avoid trouble and punishment, but because out of everyone on the Chimaera, he could be the one who might be willing to get you off of it. 

Yes. The idea strikes you like a bolt and you inhale sharply. Ronan is the one you need to befriend. He obviously doesn’t like Thrawn. Frankly, you’re surprised Thrawn had tolerated such disrespect, especially in public, in front of his crew. But any overture will need to come from Ronan himself; companions are forbidden from initiating conversations with anyone other than their masters. 

You could ignore convention, of course. You eye Ronan again. After his outburst about Thrawn parading you around, you expect that wouldn’t go over well. All you can do is take to hovering near him, and hope that he starts talking to you first.  

To your dismay, he says nothing more. He gives you another disdainful look and then turns away with a flourish of his cloak. He retreats to a corner where some officers are talking in low voices, and they hide grimaces when he intrudes on their space. 

You are left standing alone, unsure of what to do, and rather self-conscious. Your veil helps somewhat.   

Curious eyes follow you-- as professional as Thrawn’s bridge crew may be, you are a strange person encroaching on their space, and an interesting distraction during an uneventful long-haul hyperspace jump. 

You watch the operations quietly, alert, not getting too close. There are about thirty people just in the forward section of the bridge, most busy with tasks at data terminals in the crew pits. When you had followed Thrawn down the main corridor, you had seen banks of comms stations, an array of scanners, a holo pod, and some pairs of large double hatches. Officers’ meeting rooms, maybe. 

The scale of it all is enough to keep you entertained until Thrawn concludes his discussions and comes back over to you. You had been lingering near the starfighter operations alcove, listening for anything interesting, but of course in hyperspace there isn’t much activity. 

Reading the bios last night had not quite conveyed the significance of the Grand Admiral’s rank. Of his extraordinary career.

As you follow him back down the main corridor, you ask how many ships he commands. Impertinent question maybe, but he answers. Nineteen capital ships and twenty-five cruisers. 

He lists off more numbers, staggering numbers of ships and personnel, as if it’s the most commonplace thing in the galaxy. 1900 TIE model fighters, then of course there are all the complements of shuttles and troop transports, plus hundreds of smaller support craft. 

It takes you a few paces to do the math in your head. “But then… altogether the crew must be over a million people…”

“One million, two hundred thousand and forty-two. Each one crucial, in his or her role, to the operational capability of the fleet.” “But I bet you don’t know all their names.” You grin up at him.

He merely raises an eyebrow at you. 

“I apologize for that… scene,” says Thrawn in a low tone once you are in a quieter passageway-- close to his quarters, you think, though the halls are so easy to get lost in. The standard shift is not over, but there are still hours to go for the first leg of the hyperspace jumps. You had overheard from the navigation section on the bridge that this is the first of three. “I did not expect the Assistant Director to react so forcefully. And I can assure you, he does not have claim to any particular ‘spot’ on the bridge.”

“Who is he, exactly?” 

Thrawn’s tone is just the slightest bit dry when he answers. If his sly antagonism of the man had been anything to go by, you’d bet Thrawn doesn’t particularly like him, or at least resents having to deal with him. “A mediator, of sorts. Assigned to the ship to ensure the terms of an agreement are upheld.” 

“Are you sure he wasn’t just jealous?”

Breaking his stride, Thrawn looks over at you, genuinely puzzled. “For what reason?” 

You just pluck at your robe, holding up the fabric, and understanding dawns on his face. 

“Ah, of course. A symbol of status.” He resumes walking. You aren’t sure how to feel about that-- reduced to being a rare prize-- nor do you mention the other reason Ronan might have reacted that way-- you are human, and Thrawn is not. “Regardless, I should have anticipated this. It should have been a private conversation. But in the end it was to our advantage, I think. Those who witnessed it will have gained some understanding of who you are and why you are with me.”

“And the rest of the crew will hear about it by supper,” you add. News travels fast on a ship, even one this big, where gossip will always be a favorite pastime.

He gives you a sideways glance, and you could swear he almost smiles.

☆ link to part 7 ☆

☆join tag list☆ <- this is the easiest way to make sure your request is recorded, however anyone is also welcome to dm me if they want to be added or removed.

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#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn fic #thrawn x you #thrawn x y/n #thrawn fanfiction #thrawn fanfic #star wars

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - Jan 7th - Week 1

It’s the first SteveTony Weekly of the year!! This year, I’m gonna try to personalize the recs, and pick a favorite of the week. We’ll see how long I keep that up. As always, be sure to leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed the fic! 

~*~ 

peace bought with blood and magic by Areiton

There is a legend, older than the Citadel, about the field.

About the king who had ruled for as long as the Thousand Year War had raged. There is a legend about the king and about the one he loved, and it goes--

Note: i had so much fun with this fic, and it left me wanting to write a long version of this as an original project. 

[PODFIC] Maybe this Time by MsErmestH by Pywren

Tony’s better now. You can even say he’s superior. But all the money, alcohol, and sex can’t stop the incursions, and when his world is destroyed, he ends up on an earth ten years younger than his own.

One where Steve goes by the name of Nomad.

If there’s one thing Steve’s good at, it’s reminding him of what really matters, and maybe that makes Nomad the person Tony needs if he's going to save the universe.

Note: the way that Tony slowly begins to feel again and the way he loves Steve is everything to me. I love it. 

Love among the Hydrothermal Vents by DevilDoll

In which Namor has a thing for Steve, an octopus has a thing for Tony, and Steve and Tony eventually have a thing for each other.

Note: I’ve read this before and it’s just as amazing as the first time. Fake dating, pining, Namor in all his…Namor-ness. And the amorous octopus!!! What’s not to love. 

may the angels bow down for you by Anonymous 

He hides.

When the Demon gets loud, when He drinks His poison and tries to hurt him with His palm, or His words, or His power—he hides.

Burgundy. Oak. Shattered glass.

Note: Interesting format for this story. Interspersed with the descriptors, it gave the story a disjointed and urgent air that really worked. 

Working Late by Anonymous 

Some nights, Tony stays up late, building and rebuilding and upgrading his suits, until Steve walks into the workshop, usually already in his pajamas, and wraps his arms around Tony, kissing him until he forgets what he was doing and then dragging him to bed.

A fill for the prompt "Steve sits in Tony's lap and rides him" from last year's Community Gifts prompt list. Because there's really not enough bottom!Steve in the world.

Note: Some very lovely smut. 

The first time I met you (I already had a drawing of you) by Anonymous 

Kissing Tony was a bit like sparing, pushing and pulling and stumbling against furniture. He had no idea why a billionaire cared enough to be this strong, and it was hard to keep in mind he had to pull back his own strength.

or

Tony meets a cute artist in at a Gala event, Steve tries to get over Iron Man, and Bucky just enjoys watching his best friend be a little stupid sometimes.

Note: I love identity porn. It’s one of my favorite things in the fandom. This was a tiny slice of perfection. 

Softer Landing by Anonymous

In which there is a snowstorm, Tony has had a terrible week and Steve might be an idiot.

Note: Miscommunication and reconciliation and snowstorms. Lovely. 

****Exact Measurements Required by trilliath 

That time S.H.I.E.L.D. quartermasters accidentally put Steve's balls in a vise and it goes exactly as well as you'd expect it to. Tony promptly offers to help. Because he's helpful like that. Obviously.

Note: What I especially loved about this was Steve’s humanity and the way Tony was obsessed with him and it took him FOREVER to figure out how serious Tony actually was. 

Father and Son by Anonymous

Peter should have seen it coming.

All hell breaks loose when his secret identity as Spider-Man is revealed. His parents take the news about as well as you'd imagine, and it escalates all too quickly.

But his family wouldn't be his family if they didn't work through it.

Together.

Note: I love Superfamily dynamics, especially when it focuses on Tony and Peter, as this one does. 

opera interlude by starvels (dinosaur) 

They spend their days tumbling through space, hoping they're aiming in the right direction, ignoring the way the ship whispers, waving its shadows at them.

Note: My only thought about this is that it was too short. I loved it and wanted to read so much more. It was lovely. 

The Nearness of You by UisceOneLove 

Steve wasn't thinking when he protected Tony's protege and got a bullet for the move. He doesn't know what to think of Tony Stark showing up at his apartment, either.

Note: I loved this. It was short and sweet but the worldbuilding packed into that short little window was flawless. 

****All We Do by Anonymous 

Tony doesn't mean for anyone to find those recordings. Steve doesn't mean to see them. Between the two of them, there were never the right words spoken, so this just might be a blessing in disguise.

Note: This Endgame fic is so bittersweet and lovely. I loved everything about it. 

Crooner by wirewrappedlily 

There are songs to sing; there are feelings to feel; there are thoughts to think. That makes three things: You can't do three things at the same time.

Singing is easy: shiver off the tongue.

Thinking comes with the tune.

That leaves feeling. And you're not going to catch him feeling.

Tony Stark had a great voice. He had a magical voice, even. But he didn't have the presence for it. Didn't have the pizzazz to make it in the '20s roar.

Note: Early 1900s, with a little bit of Phantom of the Opera vibes, it was super sweet to see Tony & Steve coming together. 

like stepping on the sun by Red (S_Hylor), starksnack

When the Sorcerer Supreme asks the Avengers to go investigate a potential multiverse incursion, Tony is less than impressed. The weather is foul, and it's not even a Tuesday.

The multiverse portal, when it does occur, seems to be a bit of a fizzer, so Tony isn't expecting anything to happen.

He certainly isn't expecting an oversized fuzzy jellybean to come and meddle in his personal life.

Note: tsumtsums are often really hard to take seriously but I LOVE crack treated seriously, and it was handled perfectly! 

don't let the blue sky fade by Myrime 

It was supposed to be a mission without surprises, but then a building collapses on top of them and traps them underground.

Tony is hurt but doesn't tell anyone. Steve just wants Tony to give a damn for once. And Clint, who cannot run away from their bickering since he broke his leg, just hopes they do not kill each other before they get him out of there.

(- Since the End is almost upon us, why not return to the beginning of the Avengers, when everything was still mostly beautiful and they haven't yet hurt each other so much. Simpler times!)

Note: This was fantastic team dynamics--the relationship between Tony and Clint was especially fantastic--with a slow build Stevetony that I adored. Excellent 2012 team fic. Highly recommend. 

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

[kitten4sannie]

20 - ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ/ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀɪɴɢ -

ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ

ꜱʜɪɴʏ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛᴏʏ

pairing: pirate captain! hongjoong x stowaway! reader (fem)

summary: you press your luck as a stowaway on a random ship.

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: hard dom! hongjoong, sub! reader, pirate misogyny, dirty talk, sadomasochism, master and pet are both equally nasty here <3, praise, name calling, choking, collaring, deepthroating, slapping, dumbification ? slutification ? idk, snuck a little breeding in there for a sec

a/n: day twentyyyyy <3 fff is almost over ahhh i’m so sad but at least i still have some more filth to share <3 and also i wanted to make this a lot longer but i didn’t have the time ;; but i have a pirate au that i’m working on so at least there’s that!

FFF Masterlist

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When the pirates on the ship found you in their cupboards eating their food, you knew you were in for it. You managed to last two weeks, at least, so that was something in itself. However, this wasn’t the greatest situation to be in. You knew they were the worst of the worst, like every other pirate, trying to outdo each other when it came to violence and debauchery. It also didn’t help that the ship’s captain was a raging sadist, always going out of his way to make sure his men knew their place. He was their Master and they were simply his obedient pets that he could use to his advantage.

Well, shit.

You pulled out a small dagger from your trousers, yelling at the group of pirates to suck your dick. They didn’t appreciate that very much. As soon as you were overpowered, you were dragged to the deck, forced to remain on your bruised knees, with your arms bound behind your back.

Heavy leather boots pressed into the creaking wood floor in a slow, deliberate manner, heading in your direction, the sound of the previously vocal men quieting down as soon as they got closer. “Is this the little stowaway?” Hongjoong asked in an eerily giddy tone, licking his lips at the sight of you. It had been quite a while since he’s fucked a nice, tight little cunt. He didn’t mind fucking his Quartermaster’s ass every now and then, but it just wasn’t the same. He licked his lips, imagining what you’d be like when you were completely broken for him. Just a slave for his cock and nothing more. It was a delicious thought.

You kept your head down, staring at the perfectly polished buckles on the pirate’s leather boots, your fingers twitching behind your back. “The one and only,” you replied flatly, playing along with the man’s antics, but in your own way.

He placed his hands on his leather bound hips, making his belt sag down slightly, his voice suddenly low and empty-sounding, “The one that thought it was perfectly okay to eat our food and sleep in our quarters? How did you do it for so long, I wonder?” When you didn’t entertain him again, he reached down with a gloved hand, grabbing you by your hair and yanking your head upwards, forcing you to look up at him. “Did you fuck my men for their leftovers, little whore?”

You slowly lifted your eyes up, glaring at him past a few loose strands of hair, muttering, “I would if there were actually any men around. All I see is some overgrown children playing make believe. You never felt the warmth of your dear mother, did you?”

Only you would look death in the face and spit at its feet. How typical.

A visible vein began bulging out against the Hongjoong’s neck, his hand going to your throat so incredibly fast, you didn’t even have time to take in a proper breath. “Do you have a death wish, pretty girl? Should I carve you up right here and now for my filthy pets to enjoy?”

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. You were just a person aimlessly searching for the reason you were even experiencing this life in the first place. Going from ship to ship, island to island, and waiting for something to happen. Maybe this was it.

“You could, but then all the fun would be over, you know?” you answered in an extremely strained voice, feeling yourself being lifted up from the ground just enough to send more fear and arousal straight into your core. “I thought Masters liked to play around with their pets.”

Hongjoong’s fierce rage was replaced by clear perversion, his cat-like lips forming a wide smile, slowly letting go of your neck. “The gods answered my prayers. I’ve always wanted a bratty little masochist at my feet, just asking me to destroy them. To train them. To mold them into a perfect little toy.”

You caught your breath, squeezing your thighs together in an effort to quell the fire burning in the pit of your stomach. Pushing all of your proverbial chips onto the table, you tilted your head, looking him up and down. “Yet they haven’t answered your prayers to be taller. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pint-sized captain before.”

You could see the darkness spread evenly across Hongjoong’s face, his eyes hooded and dark, glazed over and devoid of any semblance of humanity. Though you were in for a world of hurt, you couldn’t even begin to express how eager you were to take every last punishment. This was definitely what you were waiting for.

-

A few more weeks went by, and all the while, Hongjoong spent every night training you to become the ideal fuckdoll for him. He enjoyed fucking you into a coma as much as the next degenerate, but there was something about your throat that he was obsessed with. It was wetter, warmer, and even tighter than your cunt, and it drove him absolutely mad.

Though you could suck dick without a problem, it was different when you sucked off Hongjoong. You couldn’t just give him head and call it a day. He always needed you to choke on it until you cried, gagged, and were covered in a mess of spit and cum. However, once he was bored with seeing you struggle, he decided to train you to take his cock properly, without having to worry about you getting sick and ruining his fun. It went quite well, he had to admit, training you night after night, stretching your throat out with his heavy cock and not having to hear a single sound coming from you besides choked, muffled moans. You were his perfect toy, sent down from heaven to be used as an obedient little cocksleeve just for his pleasure, with no other purpose, except to guzzle down his load after a long day of running his ship.

-

Once the moon shone brightly in the cold night sky, you walked up the stairs that led to the captain’s quarters, idly running your fingers over the pretty velvet collar that Hongjoong gave to you. He stole it from another ship, making sure to clean off the blood and polish the small ruby that sat in the middle of it. He was so good to you.

Hearing the door creak open, Hongjoong looked up from his desk, dropping the feather quill inside his hand. “There you are, pet.”

You walked up to him, giving him the same perverse smile he was giving you, slowly pulling at the strings of your dress and letting it fall off your figure. Your body was covered in bruises and lovebites that Hongjoong never seemed to let you go without. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, Captain.”

“Of course you were.” Hongjoong stood up and walked around so that he could stand in front of you, placing a hand on your head and slowly pushing it down, watching you sink down to your bruise-covered knees. “I remember when you were a feisty one, only learning to listen to me after you had to cry and beg me for forgiveness, but now look at you…You’re my empty-headed little fuck toy, aren’t you?”

“That’s all I’ll ever be, Captain. How can I give you a hard time when you treat me so well?” You ran your hands up his black, form-fitting trousers and unbuttoned them, slowly pulling them down to take out his already hard cock.

Gasping at the sensation of you sliding the majority of his cock into your mouth, Hongjoong reached down to run his fingers through your hair, watching you with half-closed eyes. “I do treat you well, don’t I? I fill you up night after night and leave you with a tummy and cunt full of cum. What more could a toy ask for?”

You pulled off of his cock to lick around the tip like it a melting ice cream cone, replying, “Nothing at all, Captain.”

Grunting at the loss of your warm mouth, Hongjoong sent a quick, but rough slap to your cheek and grabbed you by the hair, licking his lips. “That was a rhetorical question, little slut. Did I tell you to stop sucking my cock?”

Sighing at the burning sensation lingering on your skin, you shook your head, opening your mouth back up just in time for Hongjoong to shove his cock back inside, not stopping until your nose met his pelvis. “Mmmff…”

“My pretty toy likes Captain’s big cock inside her tiny little throat, doesn’t she?” he asked, in between thrusts, gripping the back of your head, his cold rings pressing into your scalp. “She likes getting her throat fucked like a pussy, doesn’t she?”

“Mmm…hmmm….” You tried to look up at Hongjoong, always enjoying the sadistic smiles he sent in your direction, his lips always curling into a joker-like grin, his tongue just barely poking out past his teeth. You couldn’t though, since your eyes were already rolling back into your head.

“Good little pet,” he praised, his voice coming out low and gravelly, bucking his hips so quickly, he accidentally slipped out of your mouth. “Fuck, your throat is dripping like a pussy too…” He slapped his heavy cock onto your flushed face for good measure, rubbing his pre-cum across it, before shoving himself back inside your mouth, going at it like he was running out of time.

You reached down in between your thighs, rubbing your wetness around your cunt, not even bothering to actually play with yourself, just enjoying that you were being used. It felt amazing finally finding your purpose. Orgasmic, even.

“Gonna fill your throat pussy with my seed, pet. God, I wish I could get you pregnant this way. It’s a shame, really.” Hongjoong reached down to clutch your neck, feeling his cock slide in and out at a rapid pace, enjoying the sensation of your moans vibrating against his fingers. “Even when you’re full of my kids, I’ll still fuck your throat and pussy raw every night. I hope you know that.”

Moaning heavily at his filthy words, you continued to spread your arousal around, feeling it dribble out of you at an alarming rate. You were throbbing nonstop. If you focused hard enough, you could probably cum just like this, with your Master’s cock down your abused throat and his fingers pressing onto your collared neck.

Shuddering at the feeling of his sweat dripping down along his neck, Hongjoong let out a strained shout of pleasure, drilling himself into your throat so rapidly, he barely noticed when his cock began spurting his load out. “Yeah, fucking take it! Take it, take it, take it!”

And take it, you did. Like the obedient cum dump you were. “Mmmn!” you moaned loudly, squeezing your thighs together, your lower-half trembling and jolting. You were cumming hard, just like you thought you would. If you were the angel that fell down from heaven to please Hongjoong, then he was the demon that supplied you with all the hellish pleasures you could possibly ask for.

“Godddd,” he groaned out, stopping his movements, but holding you all the way down on his pulsing cock, your jaw beginning to ache from being open for so long. “Swallow it down that tight throat of yours, pretty doll.”

You gulped and gulped, gasping for air when Hongjoong finally pulled you off of him, long strings of saliva still connecting his cockhead to your swollen lips.

Hongjoong pushed his damp hair back, trying to catch his breath after all that effort. “Say ‘ahhh’.”

“Ahhh,” you responded, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to show him that nothing was left.

He smiled softly, patting the top of your head. “Good girl.”

Whining at the stickiness between your legs, you grabbed his length and licked a long stripe from the bottom of it to the very tip, eventually nuzzling his hardening cock and letting it rest against your sweaty face. “One more time, Captain? Please?”

The gods truly did answer his prayers. What was better than this? Pillaging and murdering during the day, only to fuck a cock-hungry toy like you during the night? Talk about a perfect life.

Stroking your hair as gently as possible, as if he didn’t just get done breaking your mind to the point that you couldn’t think about anything else, except for him, Hongjoong leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Of course, pet. Though I might not stop until sunrise.”

Licking at his cockhead and giving it kisses, you emitted a small giggle. “I’d love nothing more, Captain.”

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FFF: @hwalysm @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @dilucpegg3r @yeosxxx @gemjimin @wonwowzers @sanjoongie @manipulatedstars @k-drizzle 

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© toxicccred, 2023.

#ateez #ateez smut #hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #kpop smut #ateez fanfiction #ateez oneshot #ateez hard hours #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #february filth fest

[moodymisty]

UH EXCUSE ME MISTY, HOW DARE YOU JUST DROP SOME OF THE BEST DAMN MEAL OF ALL TIME AND JUST LEAVE US HANGING????

What is our quartermaster gonna say when we don’t turn back up to complete our duties, do they know not to expect us after a marine telling them we are “helping” the astartes?

Not only that do the astartes just kinda keep us locked in their barracks? Wolves are ones not to fully share, and a sweet little serf like us is NOT to be shared unless it with the original 5.

I can just see the astartes making a huge pile for big cuddle times and we are in the middle and unable to leave( not like we’d want to anyway, THE LEGS ARE NONFUNCTIONAL RN)

Sorry to make this so long, but when you mentioned how their captains couldn’t control them from bothering the serfs, I just kept thinking how irl stallions are. They are so focused on the mare not for from them and the upstairs brain is no longer in charge. I can just imagine a captain or quartermaster having to chain them and pull them back like “you cannot keep bothering them, stop thinking with your dick!”

Im so in love with the Luna wolves, I would happily apply to keep those studs busy! Thank you for the meal!

The quatermasters are on damage control honestly, and probably hoping the whole 'new toy' excitement wears off soon. Disappearances just make them sigh because they probably got grabbed somewhere and now they have to reassign duties.

I mean Astartes are so jacked full of steroids and hormones that they have to basically brainwash them in the ladder millenniums to keep them controllable, it probably wouldn't be hard to distract them with the right mix of situations and timing.

Blood Angels would probably be even worse though, as besides the usual horny bullying, you also have the fact the whole, blood factor.

I'm glad you liked it though! I'll gladly do more since the overall reception has been so good.

#BROTHER I AM PINNED HERE #reply #Misty's book club

[featherwurm]

Thinking about Karlach's cambion "friend" Flo again - imagining a time in Avernus when these two were interacting; Karlach relatively newly healed, and still trying to find her way (reflecting on her scars.) She mentions she didn't have time to feel sad in the Hells (and that she learned to keep to herself), but mentions that Flo could cheer her even when she didn't feel like smiling (despite, as Karlach says, being willing to strangle her if she turned her back.) As she says "bitch had good jokes." (Based on her letter to Karlach, she's clearly a bully as well, but Karlach isn't above laughing at that - especially with raw nerves anyway.)

Who's Flo, you ask? Well if you trigger a certain dialogue in Moonrise Towers (speaking to the bugbear quartermaster Lann Tarv with Karlach in your party), you get a little info on her.

She does not appear in game and I've just made up an appearance for her based on what I think she should be (enormous, mean, and a force of personality.)

#Karlach #BG3 #baulders gate 3 #Flo #Florrenta the garroter #art #personal #sketch #comic #I have no idea if the emotional beat of this comes across #the raw stupid kind of laughter you get when you're interrupted from deep interal concerns

[ineffablebookgirl]

Okay, man, hold on. Everything is clunking into place for me, after reading this post about Aziraphale being Israfil in Islam, the angel whose job it is to blow the cosmic horn that starts Armageddon.

And so then, Crowley is the Serpent of Eden, who sets the human story in motion, and, presumably, the need for an Armageddon, where humans are measured and sorted into Good and Bad, sent to Heaven or Hell.

And someone else in another post I read long ago pointed out that Crowley signs to start the Armageddon process at the beginning of the series.

While Aziraphale signs for the package with the tools of the Four Horsepersons, at the end of the series, to end the Armageddoff process. [I could not find a gif or a video of this anywhere, so sorry, you get a crappy photo of my screen I took with my phone.]

So, once again, their roles are reversed --

Crowley starts humanity, Aziraphale is supposed to end it.

Crowley starts Armageddon, Aziraphale ends it.

And Aziraphale ends it in another sense, too, as he's the one [in the series, not in the book] whose creativity and critical thinking skills come up with the argument about the Great Plan vs the Ineffable Plan.

This has also got me thinking about how Aziraphale and Crowley, despite being absolute grade A idiots, are actually ridiculously powerful.

If Aziraphale is one of the ten most important angels, and his job is to literally end everything, it explains some things. Like why the other angels are so insistent on getting him back up to Heaven, instead of just writing him off as a weirdo and a soon-to-be casualty of the War. Like why the Metatron says, "We will leave the portal open for you, do not dawdle." Like why the Quartermaster angel says, "Your whole platoon is waiting for you."

And then there's Crowley. And there're lots of people who like the idea that he's just a nobody in Hell. "They just said, get up there and make some trouble." But then again, he's the only demon we know of who can stop time.

He's the only demon who has an imagination. Which. If all the demons and Satan fell at the same time, for asking questions. I wonder what changed. Why has Crowley kept asking questions, which seems to me to be crucially linked to having an imagination. Meanwhile Hastur and Ligur and Beelzebub, etc., and even Satan, are fatally literal-minded. Satan is defeated by Adam's creativity in naming his adoptive father as his only meaningful father, breaking the expectation and tradition of bloodline. So that kind of creativity is extremely powerful in the story.

So what else do we not know about Crowley and his power?

#good omens #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #israfil #islam #religious meta #powerful aziraphale and crowley #bastard angel #nice demon #mind blown #stuff people probably figured out in 2019

[lordsalemander]

The talk of ghost pirates and ships this episode got me thinking…

What if Bells Hells were pirates?

Here’s the roles I came up with (my knowledge of ship roles is very limited)

Captain: Imogen (mainly cause I love seeing Imogen take leadership roles, but she’s weathered many storms—hah, get it—so she’d be able to handle herself)

Quartermaster: Ashton (hooked on Ashton and Imogen’s dynamic recently plus he’d make sure everyone stays in line)

Sailing Master/Lookout: Orym (his perception is insane, plus it’s funny imagining him climbing up to the crow’s nest and barely being able to see over the railing)

Gunner: Fearne (letting Fearne handle the firearms is a great idea)

Powder Monkey: Mister (it’s perfect not only because it has monkey in the name but also because it’s kind of a helper role to the gunner)

Boatswain/Cooper: Chetney (makes sure the boat is in tip top shape cause he’s great at woodworking, and makes the barrels too)

Carpenter: Laudna (answers to Chetney cause he’s the woodworking master but her mending allows her to fix up the boat as well. She also handles the interior design obviously)

Doctors: mainly FCG with Fearne helping a bit (cleric, FCG also acts as the ship therapist of course)

Cook: FCG (he’s like the only one who has mentioned cooking/baking I believe)

Musician/Entertainment: Pâté (he’s great at singing—if you ask Laudna. Others might disagree—and he’s sometimes used as a kite when the winds are just right as well as other games that the crew makes up to entertain themselves)

As for the ship, I can see it maybe being called Bell’s Hell, and maybe the crew itself would be called Bell’s hellish pirates(?) I’d say it’s Bertrand’s ship and he brings the whole crew together akin to the start of campaign 3. Due to that I could see the figurehead being some dramatized figure of himself

#I’m desperately craving BH on a pirate ship next episode #I just think they would make a really fun pirate crew #and it is taking over my brain #also Imogen trading a cowboy hat for a pirate hat #critical role #critical role spoilers #imogen temult #laudna #chetney pock o'pea #c3e71 #c3e71 spoilers #ashton greymoore #fearne calloway #orym of the air ashari #little mister #fresh cut grass #FCG #pate de rolo #bertrand bell #bells hells