#like i think i have a scar ficlet idea

[theminecraftbee]

good morning. if anyone was wondering, i am still thinking about cletho, thanks for asking,

#i have settled a LITTLE into thinking about literally anyone else #like i think i have a scar ficlet idea #and i am looking at pearl's tragedy with #well it's a tragedy. #but mostly i'm going WAHHHHH CLEO AND ETHO internally #as is my right i guess. #god i threatened to become like an annoying dsrt duo guy and i HAVE. I AM BLATANTLY IGNORING EVERY OTHER STORYLINE FOR MY GUYS. #'hey did you know scar won' 'yeah scar won good for him CLEO TOLD ETHO HE WAS THEIR FAVORITE. DID YOU SEE THAT.' #so you know. SORRY ABOUT THAT EVERYONE I DID WARN YOU. #so how about that cletho huh.

[steddieas-shegoes]

saturate me, i can't get enough

rated e 4,066 words cw: please read full note below the cut in regards to terminology used in this ficlet/warnings A really big thank you/shoutout to @patchworkgargoyle for proofreading this and giving me a few great suggestions to make sure this was absolutely perfect for @steves-strapcollection's birthday! Also available on ao3.

This labor of love (and smut) is for my favorite transmasc Steve truther, Gerry. I am so grateful for your contributions to this fandom, and I am even more grateful that you welcome me into your chaos (Tig threads I'm lookin' at you 👀). While I may still not think my writing could be a gift to anyone, let alone a talented writer like you, I will just be positive that you'll enjoy this for what it is which is soft and tender fuckin'.

A VERY SERIOUS NOTE FOR EVERYONE ELSE: I am very much a cis woman. I spoke with Ger before even starting on this because I wanted to make sure he was comfortable with me even attempting to write transmasc Steve. I am using masculine and feminine terms for lower anatomy that he uses in his own fics and his own life with his express permission to do so. If you think this might be a trigger for you, please don't read. I wrote this specifically for Ger, and realize that it may not be for everyone. Taking care of yourself is the most important thing!

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If Eddie had known what exactly he was getting into when he asked Steve on a date, he probably would have done it a lot sooner.

He tugged on the silk ropes around his wrist, just tight enough to keep him in place on the bed, but still loose enough that he knew he could pull out of them if he had to.

Steve refused to tie them any tighter.

“Need you to feel safe with me, Eds,” he’d said with a soft kiss to his lips.

As if he could feel anything other than safe with him. As if he hadn’t spent the last five or so months falling in love with him, learning what makes Steve Steve, figuring out how he could fit in Steve’s life.

Somehow, Eddie ended up naked first, tied up in his own bed, breaths heavy with anticipation of what was to come.

And he had very little idea of what was to come.

He’d already been surprised at how quickly Steve took charge of their date, their first kiss, the torturous ride back to Eddie’s apartment where Steve’s hand just brushed against his cock every minute or so.

Now, he was at Steve’s mercy entirely.

Just the thought of Steve leaving him like this while he touched, and kissed, and bit every part of his body was enough to have him leaking.

“Can’t believe how good you look like this,” Steve groaned from his spot between Eddie’s legs.

Oh, his shirt was off.

Finally.

Eddie whined as he saw Steve’s one and only tattoo, a baseball bat with nails sticking out of it, on his left side just under the scar from his top surgery.

He wanted to trace the outline with his tongue, maybe mark it up so that it wasn’t just black ink, cover him in purples and blues that would take days to heal.

But he wouldn’t be able to do that now, not with his hands tied above his head and his legs spread wide enough that he couldn’t get leverage to pull himself up or Steve down.

Next time.

“Steve, please,” Eddie begged, though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for at this point other than touch.

“Sorry, baby. You’re just so distracting.”

Eddie knew he was blushing, could feel the heat on his face and neck, on his chest.

His hands were sweaty where he had them clenched into fists, somehow already overwhelmed before even being properly touched.

Steve’s fingers glided across his chest, pausing to pay attention to his only nipple, laughing to himself when Eddie jumped.

“Sensitive? Maybe this one got all the nerves from the other one being gone,” Steve smirked as he leaned down to flick his tongue over the soft, pink flesh of his one remaining nipple.

It was like an electric shock, a fire burning through his veins and Steve’s tongue was the match that lit it.

He arched his back, chasing the feeling as far as he physically could, pouting when Steve pulled away.

“Hey,” Steve touched his cheek, smiling when Eddie relaxed into the touch. “I know we’re moving fast, but I kinda wanna take my time with you. Is that okay?”

Eddie nodded, thankful that Steve said it first.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of going as far as they could as fast as they could, not at all. Eddie would be happy with anything.

But taking their time?

He would take all night.

“Wanted this for so long, baby. You have no idea,” Steve whispered, breath hot against his lips as he leaned back in.

“Me too,” Eddie’s voice trembled.

Steve’s palm settled against his chest, no doubt feeling how hard and fast Eddie’s heart was beating, but not saying anything about it.

Eddie could feel his pulse in his fingertips, in his toes, in his hair.

“You like being tied up?”

Eddie nodded, biting his bottom lip between his teeth and letting his mind drift to thoughts of being like this hours.

“You want me to do what I want? Not let you pick?”

Eddie didn’t even care about his teasing tone, his knowing smirk.

He wasn’t asking for an answer, he was asking for control, and he already had both.

“I think you want me to take over, ride your face maybe? And then your cock?”

Steve was spot on.

Eddie couldn’t count the amount of times he’d pictured that exact scenario in his head. Just last night, while he was cooking dinner, he thought about the way Steve would taste, how he would look while Eddie took him apart with his tongue, his fingers.

He hadn’t even gotten to picture his cock inside him when the fire alarm started beeping to let him know he was burning his supper.

“Yeah, that’s what you want. Don’t even have to say it, I can see it all over your face,” Steve teased.

He could only imagine.

Steve got off the bed, shushing Eddie’s whines with a quick kiss to his forehead.

“Just getting everything else off, Eds.”

It was said to calm him down, but it just caused him to cant his hips upwards, seeking any type of friction on his leaking cock.

Steve’s eyes never left him as he stripped his jeans and boxers off in one fell swoop, his feet stepping out of the pant legs as quickly as he could without tripping.

He joined him on the bed again, settling between his legs and staring down at him, eyes holding so much affection that Eddie wasn’t sure what to do with it, where to put it all.

When they made eye contact, Steve smiled softly down at him.

“You okay with this?” He asked, wanting to be sure before they got too carried away.

“More than okay,” Eddie nodded. “Wanna taste you so bad, Stevie.”

“I can make that happen.”

Steve untied one of his hands from the bedframe, but didn’t let it touch any part of him yet.

“This is only so you can tap out if you need to. You’re not allowed to touch anywhere except my leg. Three taps if you need to stop, okay?” Eddie nodded. “Show me.”

Eddie waited for Steve to climb up a bit, straddle his chest, the warmth between his legs enough to make him forget for a moment what he was supposed to be doing.

“Eddie. Show me,” Steve’s voice was stern enough to grab his attention again, and Eddie focused on making his shaking hand tap his thigh three times. “Good boy. You can keep your hand there if it’ll help you remember, but no moving unless it’s to tap.”

Eddie’s head felt cloudy already, something he so rarely experienced with anyone, something he hoped he’d get to keep experiencing with Steve from now on.

Steve shifted back down for long enough to leave a kiss on Eddie’s lips, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he let out a laugh.

“I can feel your heartbeat between my thighs. A bit excited, aren’t you?” Steve teased him again, but Eddie wasn’t complaining. If anything, it just made his heartbeat louder with anticipation at what he was about to get.

“Need you,” Eddie managed to say.

Steve didn’t wait any longer, scooting his body up so his pussy was level with Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie groaned, lifted his head an inch so he could be even closer.

He needed it, needed him. He couldn’t wait any longer to get a taste.

Eddie’s tongue lapped at Steve’s hole, the only part he could reach at the moment, but it was enough.

Steve let out a long moan, gravelly voice letting out a long “yes” as he rocked his hips forward to get Eddie’s tongue inside.

Eddie closed his eyes and let himself be surrounded by Steve.

His slightly musky smell, the sweat that was rolling down his thighs, the surprisingly sweet slick dripping from his pussy, all of it was better than Eddie could have possibly imagined.

The noises got louder as Steve adjusted himself directly over Eddie’s face.

He pulled away just enough for Eddie to catch his breath, but Eddie didn’t want to catch his breath.

“Need your cock, please,” Eddie begged, not caring if he was breaking an unspoken rule, not caring if he suffocated for it.

But he didn’t get in trouble. In fact, he got exactly what he wanted when Steve settled back down, his dick rubbing against Eddie lips in silent instruction.

Eddie opened his mouth wide, stuck out his tongue, and moaned.

“God you’re so good,” Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand on his thigh, squeezing as he rocked back and forth, taking things slower than Eddie expected him to.

Eddie whimpered, letting out what little breath he had as Steve rested more of his weight on his tongue.

“You made me so wet just laying there, all tied up for me, hng,” Steve groaned.

The hand squeezing Eddie’s moved to the headboard, giving Steve just a bit more leverage to bear down and chase his own release on Eddie’s tongue.

Eddie could feel his fingernails digging into Steve’s thighs, but he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stop unless Steve made him.

He could feel slick and drool dripping down his chin, his cheeks, his neck, probably making a mess of his hair and the pillow under him, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Steve was making low groaning noises now, his pace getting faster every few thrusts back and forth.

Eddie opened his eyes, wanting to try to see what Steve looked like from this angle.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Steve’s head was thrown back, his arm muscles straining as he held onto the bed, leg muscles and stomach tensing as his pleasure started to crest.

The flush that Eddie had barely gotten to enjoy before was now covering his hairy chest and his neck, a few drops of sweat dripping to his stomach.

Eddie hoped he could lick them up after Steve came.

Steve let out a loud whine and one of his hands fell to Eddie’s hair, his fingers tugging at his roots in a way that reminded him he had no control over any of this.

Eddie decided to take matters into his own hands the best that he could, curling his tongue into a sharper point so that on the next thrust, Steve’s dick was given more pointed pressure.

“Fuck!” Steve yelled out. He looked down at Eddie, hair flopping into his face. “You wanna suck it, baby? You can if you want.”

He sounded so close, breathlessly framing his own wants as something Eddie wanted. And Eddie did want those things.

He was starting to realize he wanted everything with Steve.

It should have been a scary thought, especially when this was just the ending of their first date, but instead of worrying about it, Eddie used all the energy and muscle he could to lift his head up and start to suck on his dick.

“That’s it,” Steve panted, holding Eddie’s head against him, not giving him a chance to move away again. “You’re so good, baby. Gonna make me cum so hard, fuck.”

Eddie started to nod, and the extra movement seemed to set Steve off.

He felt Steve’s thighs clench, then loosen, then clench again, his hand tightening in Eddie’s hair, and a long moan left his body.

Eddie moaned too, and the vibration sent Steve over the edge.

Steve slowed his pace, but didn’t get up, letting Eddie slowly lick along his folds, gathering up the slick dripping out of him.

When Eddie’s tongue brushed over his cock again, he flinched, but let out a huff of a laugh.

“Sorry, baby, you got me so oversensitive already. You’re too good at that,” Steve said, still trying to catch his breath.

“Good at what? Being used?” Eddie managed to ask, voice hoarse.

Steve looked down at him as he moved down to settle against his stomach instead.

“Good at being good for me,” he finally said, seriousness ruined by the hint of fondness in his tone and smile.

“Always wanna be good for you, Stevie,” Eddie admitted.

Steve looked at him for a moment, searched his face for any sign of him lying or being too sex-drunk to be realistic.

But whatever was on Eddie’s face must have shown him that he was serious.

“Yeah, baby. I think you could be,” Steve leaned down to kiss him, licking into his mouth like he wanted to taste himself on Eddie’s lips and tongue, like he wanted to know what they tasted like together.

Eddie felt his cock pulse, felt the tug in his stomach that let him know he was probably much closer than he should be just from eating Steve out for five minutes.

He didn’t have time to be embarrassed though; Steve was moving down his body further, reaching a hand back to touch his cock.

“Wait!” Eddie leaned his head away.

Steve pulled his hand away and looked at him, frowning as he took in the panicked look on Eddie’s face.

“I just, um, I’m close. Like, pretty sure if you touch me, I will cum all over your hand and probably never be able to look you in the eyes again.”

Steve snorted out a laugh.

“What’s wrong with that?” Steve asked, slowly tracing his fingers across Eddie’s waistline, not even looking as he got closer to his cock.

“I…I don’t know?” Eddie admitted.

And truly, he had no idea why he shouldn’t cum. That was the goal of this, and Steve was making it pretty clear he didn’t mind if he did, might even prefer if he did.

The only thing stopping him was that he didn’t want any of this to end.

“Eds, you’ve been so good for me, I kinda want you to feel good, too. Unless you really don’t want to-”

“No! I do!” Eddie ignored the way Steve was trying to cover his laughter. “I just thought you wanted to ride me.”

“Ohhhh. I see. You’re being selfish.”

Eddie’s mouth snapped shut, teeth audibly clacking together.

No one had ever called him selfish in bed, not even jokingly.

But Steve’s tone wasn’t joking. His face wasn’t joking.

“I guess you think I don’t wanna see you squirming because I’m wringing the third orgasm from you in less than an hour? Is that it?”

“Uh…”

Steve clicked his tongue.

“I planned on you begging to stop soon enough. Unless you want to stop now? Seems like it might be hard to go to sleep like that, though.”

Steve’s brow raised as he glanced behind him for a moment at Eddie’s red and dripping cock, then looked back at Eddie.

“No, please don’t stop. I…can I be inside you?” Eddie was desperate, and didn’t care if he sounded like it.

“You wanna cum inside me? Fill me up good, make sure I feel who I belong to?” Steve asked as he slowly moved back further, his hand firmly grasping the base of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie whined, bucking his hips up, but not making the contact he needed.

“You can if you promise to clean me up after,” Steve’s hand slid up Eddie’s dick slowly, the pressure not nearly enough to satisfy him, but enough to make him whine.

“I promise. Please,” Eddie nodded, his one free hand making a fist in the sheets while his still tied up hand tugged on the binds.

Steve didn’t respond with words, just sat back and guided Eddie’s cock along the inner lips of his cunt, moaning at the sensation.

“So warm,” Eddie groaned.

“Gonna get me all wet again, baby,” Steve rocked his hips slowly, teasing the tip along his folds and against his entrance. “You’re leaking worse than I am.”

Which may be true at this point. Eddie had spent enough time licking up as much of his mess as possible.

Steve sat down on his cock with no warning.

He hissed, clenching his fists and curling his toes to fight off the impending orgasm.

Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the way Steve’s pussy sucked him in, clenching around him in a way that left him shivering and panting.

“Good?” Steve asked, smug grin the only thing keeping Eddie from losing it completely.

“Yes, yeah, so good, fuck,” Eddie threw his head back, arching his back as Steve slowly lifted himself up and dropped back down.

Fuck, Eddie wasn’t gonna be able to hold off. He’d just have to live with the embarrassment.

Steve reached up to untie his hand, grabbing his wrist and massaging it in his own hands as he moved his hips in circles.

“Wait, you didn’t-”

“Yeah, I did.”

“When?” Eddie knew his brain hadn’t been working for a while now, but he was certain his eyes had been. Steve hadn’t stretched himself on his fingers this entire time, and going from just Eddie’s tongue barely breaching his entrance to suddenly sitting on his cock, no matter how wet he was, had to be at least a little painful.

“Bathroom when we got home,” Steve shrugged.

Steve had been fingering himself in the bathroom not even an hour ago. Without Eddie. Without even making a noise.

God, Eddie was so fucked. Literally.

“You okay, baby?” Steve asked, smug grin back in place as he guided Eddie’s hands to his own hips. “Think you can do this part or do I have to do everything?”

Eddie gripped his hips, hoping his fingers would leave bruises, and let himself have this. It may only last for another minute, but he was going to make it worth every second.

He lifted Steve up, then dropped him down, smirking at the loud yelp Steve let out.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard later, this is just a preview,” Eddie growled out.

“Promise?” Steve gasped as Eddie shoved his hips up as he pulled Steve down.

“Swear. Every night you want me to from now on, Stevie,” Eddie slowed his thrusting, felt the tension building in his abdomen.

Steve groaned as he placed his hands on Eddie’s chest and started lifting his hips up on his own, clenching as he moved up Eddie’s cock.

He quickened his pace, little whimpers leaving him every time his ass met Eddie’s thighs.

“You feel so good, Stevie, gonna cum,” Eddie whined as his thighs clenched.

“Yes, yes, please. You’ve been so good, Eds,” Steve nodded, not pausing for a second.

Eddie’s eyes closed without his permission, Steve’s words hitting him right in the chest, making his breath leave him in one long, drawn-out moan.

Steve didn’t slow down, lacing his fingers with Eddie’s and pushing them backwards onto the sheets as he rode Eddie through his orgasm.

“Kiss me, please,” Eddie begged, opening his eyes to look up at Steve’s flushed face. Sweat was beading along his hairline, bangs flopping into his eyes.

Steve’s lips hovered over Eddie’s, not quite making contact, but close enough for their breaths to mingle together, for the small whimpers Eddie was unintentionally letting out to be swallowed by Steve’s hungry tongue as it grazed against his own.

Eddie was coherent enough to pull one of his hands loose, reaching up to cup Steve’s jaw as he chased his second orgasm of the night.

“Can I?” Eddie asked, moving his hand down his neck, tracing a finger along his collarbone. He looked up at Steve’s wide eyes, felt his pace slow to a stop.

“Can you…?” Steve asked, breathless as he tried to figure out what Eddie was trying to ask him.

“Can I touch your cock? Want you to come on mine.”

Eddie felt Steve clench around him, his cock almost over sensitive enough for it to be painful.

“Yeah, I’m close,” Steve admitted, pulling his other hand away to sit back so Eddie had easier access to his dick.

He was dripping, and Eddie’s cum was leaking from his hole now that he’d stopped moving and Eddie was starting to get soft.

Eddie’s fingers gathered up as much as they could, gliding down to where his cock was still inside him and away a few times, just to tease.

“Eddie…”

“Sorry, sorry. Just like touching you,” Eddie smiled up at him, at the way Steve’s back was arched, at the way his thighs were trembling with the effort of holding himself up.

Steve grabbed his wrist and guided his hand to his dick, impatience finally taking over.

“I like you touching me too, but if I don’t get to come again soon, you won’t touch me again for the rest of the night,” Steve snarked.

Eddie loved him.

He didn’t hesitate to curl his fingers so his knuckles rested against the sides of his dick, still teasing, but at least where Steve wanted it now. He didn’t move for a moment, wanted Steve to be desperate enough to rock forward.

“Eddie, please,” Steve whined.

“Look who’s begging now,” Eddie teased. “You’re so hard, sweetheart. Should’ve told me you were this close earlier. Would’ve taken care of you.”

Steve whimpered, shaking his head as Eddie’s knuckles started dragging up and down his dick.

Watching Steve fall apart above him like this, making him fall apart, especially when he’d been the one in control all night, was making Eddie feel unstoppable.

This was all he ever wanted: making Steve feel good in any way Steve wanted or needed.

Eddie started jerking his fingers faster, watching as Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Fuuuuuck,” Steve groaned, shifting his hips up for more pressure, for anything else he could possibly get.

“That’s it, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good. Wanna be good for you.”

And just like Steve’s words had done for Eddie before, Eddie’s must have been the final straw for Steve.

Steve’s thighs shook as he came, his fingers digging into Eddie’s shoulders as he fell forward, trapping his hand against his pulsing dick.

“Hmm,” Steve moaned out as his grasp loosened, leaving half-moons in Eddie’s skin.

Eddie knew he would be hard again soon. At this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if he got hard while still inside Steve.

But Steve’s eyes opened, and Eddie somehow fell further.

“I don’t wanna stop,” Steve whispered, leaning in to kiss along his jawline, letting his teeth gently brush against his chin before pecking his lips.

“I’ve got perfectly good fingers. Or…” Eddie leaned up to kiss him, smirking when he felt Steve grind against him. “You could also fuck me.”

Steve’s responding groan was muffled by Eddie’s chest, a laugh immediately following.

“As much as I would love to, and will as soon as I have energy, I was thinking maybe we could just…stay like this?” Steve looked up towards the end, a pink blush coating his cheeks unlike anything Eddie had ever seen on him before.

Steve didn’t get embarrassed or nervous, he didn’t get flustered, at least not where others could see him.

He was Mr. Charming, the smoothest guy around, the one who always knew how to respond in a flirty situation.

But right now, all Eddie saw was vulnerability, his eyes mirroring back the love Eddie felt but hadn’t put into words.

“Like this or on our sides?” Eddie whispered, not wanting the moment to be broken.

“Like this for now.”

Eddie gave a single nod, not mentioning that they should probably clean up a little, or the fact that Robin would be home soon and the bedroom door was wide open.

Steve kissed his chest before he settled with his head in the crook of his neck, breath hot against Eddie’s pulse point.

Eddie’s cock was hard again inside Steve, but both of them ignored it, savoring the feeling of finally having each other.

Steve was asleep quickly, and Eddie let his mind wander as he traced his fingers up and down Steve’s back.

This first date felt a lot like the beginning of a long future.

–

When Eddie woke up the next morning, his cock was in Steve’s mouth, and Steve already had two fingers in his hole, lube slowly dripping between his cheeks.

“What a way to wake up,” Eddie moaned.

Steve pulled off of him, already smirking, lips red and glistening with spit.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Stevie. Keep going,” Eddie’s voice was rough from sleep.

“You got it, baby.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #transmasculine steve harrington #light d/s #soft dom steve harrington #sub eddie munson

[sentientgolfball]

DUDE WHAT THE FUCK (re: phantom/aether ficlet) YOU CANT JUST THROW A BUNCH OF MY FAVE KINKS INTO ONE FICLET THEN SAY THIS

AND END IT THERE OH MY GOD ELABORATE??? PLEAS MAKE PART TWO AND ELABORATE IM LITERALLY BEGGING YOU ON MY KNEES RN

mwehehehehehee

That's it that's all I have to saw about that

Tags: mean Aeth, irresponsible use of quintessence, knot mention

Aether shoved his knot passed their lips, gripping the back of their head while he came down their throat. Phantom would’ve came when the taste hit his tongue, but Aeth made sure that was impossible. He dick was so hard and he’s sure he would’ve came at least three times by now if it wasn’t for the amount of quint Aether was pouring into him. His scars hadn’t stopped glowing for the last ten minutes. 

“Once this goes down we’re gonna see if you can take my whole hand, how does that sound love bug?” 

Phantom projected his affirmation into Aether’s mind. The older quint smiled, petting at his cheek to feel his knot inside. Phantom would have to thank Cirrus and Cumulus later for teaching him the tricks. 

When his knot finally deflates, Aether pulls out of his mouth and gives him a moment to breathe. There’s still not a single part of his body Phantom can move except for his eyes. He feels floaty, like he’s watching everything Aether is doing to his body through a window. He can’t even moan when Aeth flips him over and prodes a finger into his ass, vocal chords completely paralyzed. Aether gets the idea though, the connection between their quintessence making every thought and feeling as clear as day. 

When Aether slides a second finger in Phantom’s dick twitches. He wishes more than anything Aether would let him cum. They’ve been at this for what feels like hours now. But Aether’s not done yet. And if Aether isn’t done then Phantom isn’t done. 

“You’ve been so good for me. Taking everything I’ve given you” Aether curls his fingers. 

Phantom’s eyes flutter and he instinctively tries to buck back against him, but his hips don’t even twitch. 

“It’s amazing what the body can do with a little bit of help isn’t it? I could teach you so much” Aether slides his fingers out of his ass only to shove a third one in. 

Phantom practically begs over their connection. What for he has no idea anymore. His whole world right now is Aether. He can feel him in every crevice in his mind, can feel his touch lighting up every nerve in his body. He thinks he’d like that, knowing the tricks Aether does. Phantom knows the pack sure as hell would love it. The idea of Rain or Dew or Mountain begging him to fuck them like this sends a wave of pleasure through him. Aether laughs low when he feels it shudder through him. 

“Yea love bug is that what you want? Maybe some other night. This one’s for me.” 

Aether slips a fourth finger into them and they swear they can feel a dribble of pre leak from their cock through Aether’s control. Though when the feeling only grows he knows exactly what it is. It’s Aether’s cum trickling out of his ass, sliding down his dick and coating his thighs. 

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll fill you again when I’m finished with this.”

Ever so slowly Aether works his fifth finger into Phantom, giving a satisfied hiss when he finally gets his whole hand inside of him. He doesn’t move, giving Phantom a moment to recuperate as he focuses his quintessence on the straining muscles. He urges him to relax and Phantom is helpless to it. It doesn’t help that everything Aether feels is being echoed back through him. He wants it just as desperately as him, maybe even more given the suggestion he projects across the bond. 

“You sure you want me to do that love bug?” Aether asks, but they both know he’s already made up his mind. 

Phantom blinks at him. It’s the closest thing to a nod he can physically do. 

Aether laughs “You’re worse than Mountain.” 

He slowly uncurls one of his fingers, quickly followed by the second. He carefully scissors his fingers inside of him. He grunts when he hears Phantom whine in his mind, cock kicking in his lap and spitting a thick glob of pre. He takes his time uncurling the rest of his fingers, savoring every little noise that rattles in his head. He flexes his all five fingers and Phantom swears he saw the Hells again for a moment. Aether stays like that for a minute or an hour, Phantom’s brain too full of honey to notice anything until he feels the pressure of him carefully slipping his fist out of him. 

“Oh Hells Phantom, love bug, look at you you’re fucking gaping” Aether traces his rim with a feather light touch. 

“You’re going to be ruined for anyone else. Fuck I don’t even think my knot will catch” he pauses and hums thoughtfully “I guess there’s only one way to find out though.”

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #the band ghost fic #phantom ghoul #aether ghoul #golfball writes

[cuubism]

I heard that old scars can sometimes re-open and I've no idea how true that is but it is sure does have a great angst potential for our boy Dream and his scars where his wings used to be

i'm so glad we've collectively decided to make dream's wings as a concept as maximally angsty as possible

i have no idea if that's true either, i know scar tissue can hurt sometimes after healing and be weaker than regular skin, and i know it can also be numb i.e. have disrupted nerve endings, no idea if it can properly reopen. however, dream's wing scars are more metaphysical than physical, since he doesn't properly have a physical form at all, the very concept of the wings was torn from his being, so we can absolutely play with this.

(this doesn't quite align with the internal canon of the other ficlet. but ah well)

(content warning again for graphic violence)

--

Dream had not been strictly truthful with Hob when he said that no one in this age, outside of his own family, knew of his wings, or their loss.

It was merely true that he had not chosen to show anyone. But there had been a time recently when Dream did not have much choice in anything at all.

****

It was inevitable that Roderick Burgess would figure out the origins of Dream's scars. The man was a fool, but he was no idiot. He could put together basic evidence in front of him.

“Strange,” he said, a few months in, as Dream still refused to give him anything he asked for or even to speak a word, “for an entity such as yourself to have such a human thing as scars.”

Dream merely glared at him. It was the first time anyone had spoken of, or even seen, the remnants of his wings in hundreds of years. Even Death had given up on mentioning it. Hearing the words spoken aloud made phantom pain arc up his back, but he kept his expression set, not giving Burgess an inch.

“They were wings, weren’t they?” Burgess said, and Dream just barely contained his flinch. “Too conveniently placed not to be. Curious. I’ve never heard of any dream lord having wings. Then again, you aren’t in too many storybooks, are you, Dream of the Endless?”

Dream featured in a few human stories. But none captured the whole of him.

“What happened to them?” Burgess asked, with idle curiosity.

He couldn’t possibly believe Dream would answer. Dream maintained his glare, and Burgess just chuckled.

“Of course, you won’t tell. I wouldn’t reveal a weakness, either. But perhaps I will be able to find out elsewhere.” His cane tapped the floor, considering. “It would be good to know what can carve off a piece of you.”

Dream clenched his jaw, the indignity of it all rushing through him in a flash of heat. The audacity of this human to think he could harm an Endless like so.

Then again, Dream had thought the same during that great battle. And he had learned.

He was still bound, here. Trapped, in this flesh.

Would it be worse, he wondered, to still have wings and be caged? Or to be as he was now, bound and having his injury, his weakness, gawked at?

“We’ll speak again, soon,” Burgess said, and then he was gone.

Dream remained, as he was forced to. Back aching, shoulders throbbing, stiff in the cold basement. He could almost feel the phantom arc of his wings over him. A torturous memory. He could picture them, folded tight in this sphere, unable to stretch out.

No, he thought, that pain would still be preferable to not having them at all.

****

Burgess returned, of course, came every day to stalk around Dream’s cage, demanding things of him. Dream resolutely turned to face him, shielding his wounded back from the man’s eyes. Depriving him of his ability to gloat. It did occasionally mean he had to bare his scars to the guards sitting by the doorway, but they were inconsequential compared to his captor. He would offer Roderick Burgess no satisfaction.

“I confess,” Burgess said, walking slowly, cane tapping, “that even when you are making things unnecessarily difficult, you inspire curiosity. I will get that story out of you, Dream. If you give me nothing else.”

You will not, Dream thought. All he had now was his silence and secrets.

“Perhaps I should drag you out of there and see what I can learn up close,” Burgess mused. The thought made rage curl in Dream’s belly. He thought that Burgess was too frightened of him to dare touch him. But his punishment when Dream got out would be one hundred-fold if he did. And he had already earned himself agony.

“Consider what ending you’d prefer,” Burgess said, and left him again.

****

Nobody had thought of Dream with wings in an age. The Old Gods had stripped them of his mythology when they’d stripped them from his body. Even when Dream occasionally featured in human stories, as a minor god or as the Sandman or some other strange figure, he did not have wings, he did not fly, it was beyond the reach of human imagining.

Except.

In seeing the scars on Dream’s back, in considering, over and over, with such fervor, Dream’s history, the flight he might have once been capable of— Roderick Burgess was imagining.

One dreamer could not change Dream. A thousand dreamers could not bring Dream’s wings back to him, that time was done now, he knew it as deeply as he knew the pain that lived within him.

Except, apparently, when his powers were bound. Except when Burgess held his ruby, the very essence of Dream’s form. Except when the man wished him such ill that no torment was beyond the reach of his imagination.

It happened not gradually, but suddenly. Burgess was speaking to him one day, musing again about what horrible thing might have happened to Dream’s wings, and Dream was tuning him out, staring into space, when a lightning bolt of pained raced up his spine, flared through his shoulders, swirled in spiked agony in his head—

Dream bent double, a cry of anguish torn from his throat. The first sound he had made since his imprisonment. Burgess froze and stared at him, his cane hovering above the cobblestones.

Dream clasped his hands over his ears where a rising whine was reaching a fever pitch, becoming a scream. A matching shriek building in his own throat that he desperately tried to suppress. He’d rather choke than let his captor hear anything else, but his back was in flames, it felt as though it was tearing apart anew, like something was wrenching from within him—

“Well,” said Burgess, and for the first time, the man sounded faint with shock. “Look at that.”

Breathing raggedly, but getting no air for his tight chest in the sealed sphere, limbs trembling, Dream dared a look over his shoulder. Shuddering at what he might find.

Yes, indeed, there were wings again arcing over his shoulders, folded double under the glass. Pulled from Dream, forced on him, by Roderick Burgess’s imaginings. And no, no, these wings were wrong, they were horrible and monstrous, like a demon’s, taloned and webbed and bent at unnatural angles. Dream’s wings had been beautiful, feathers dark and fine as the night sky.

But Burgess saw him as a monster, and a monster’s body was what he gave him.

Blood streamed down Dream’s back from the jagged tears the wings had ripped in his skin. It dripped from every inch of the webbing, splattering the glass sphere, which looked like something horrible had just given birth inside of it. Even moving the wings was agonizing, and Dream stayed hunched over, face pressed to his knees, to avoid knocking them into the glass and sending a spasm of pain through himself that he might not recover from.

“Another trick of yours?” said Burgess, walking around him. Now there was nothing Dream could do to guard his back. “Hiding your powers from me?”

Dream did not look up at him, but he ripped the man cell from cell in his mind. You, he wanted to snarl, you have done this. You and your gross, possessive imaginings, feeling yourself entitled to my history. You will pay.

Under the pain, however, the wings felt insubstantial. Weak, fragile, draining the rest of his strength, unlike the power of Dream’s true wings before they had been so grossly torn from him. These wings could not fly. These wings sustained themselves on the cruel thoughts of one dreamer, and hurt Dream rather than aided him; their connection to his power was flickering, and Dream expected they would not last long.

These wings were a violation and an abomination and still, a wrenching pain went through Dream’s body at the thought of their disappearance.

But he was right. Even as Burgess watched, speaking again though Dream could not hear it over the rushing in his ears, the wings twisted up like gnarled tree branches and vanished, leaving a cold wind in their wake. And blood, and viscera, and two open wounds in Dream’s back. He collapsed forward onto his elbows, head hanging, unable to push himself back up. He had bitten the inside of his mouth hard enough that it was bleeding, and drops fell to join the growing pool at the bottom of the glass. Was it Burgess who dreamed him able to bleed? Or Dream himself?

“No!” Burgess smacked the glass with his cane, and Dream flinched. “Foul creature. You will not keep your powers from me forever.”

Dream did not bother to glare at him. He pressed his forehead to the bloody floor of the cage. His wings. His wings. Wrong though these were, it had been eons since he had even conceived of the feeling of having wings. And now, to have them ripped into existence and then gone again…

With a growl, Burgess stormed from the room, yelling at the guards, “Let me know if he does ANYTHING!”

Dream did not do anything. Dream wished for this form to go the way of his wings. To shred from the inside out and be gone.

****

Prior to his imprisonment, Dream had reached a level of equanimity when it came to other winged creatures. Once, there had been a time when he’d inflicted horrible nightmares of falling on all the dreamers of the world, burning out of control in his rage. Likewise, there had been a time when Dream, guilt-ridden, had tried to soothe that ache by sending gentle dreams of floating lightly on a warm breeze, or of soaring with powerful strokes through the skies.

But eventually, he had gained control over himself, and managed to treat winged dreams the same as any other, with no particular preference or punishment.

That was before.

Now, he was thinking about Gault. And her resplendent joy as she’d first lifted off the ground, wings fluttering with newness and light.

It should not be so. The smile of one of his creations should not make pain spike cold in his chest, make his back ache like the scar tissue was new enough to be just scabbed over. Dream was meant to be listening to his creations’ feelings. But he thought it would be easier to feel nothing at all.

It had all disappeared, when he’d escaped from the Burgess mansion. The new, bloody marks of the wings Burgess forced from his body had gone like they’d never been once Dream’s power returned. The original scars, of course, stayed, they would never go. Dream did not know what to do with this clean slate. He wondered, sometimes, if he had fallen into Delirium’s realm in his isolation, and simply hallucinated every moment of it.

He was sitting on Hob’s couch, now. He wasn’t sure exactly when, lost in his musings, he had moved to Hob’s living room. It hurt more to be in the Dreaming; he had wanted to be away from his own creations. So many years apart, and the pain of their abandonment, and now he wanted to be away from them. Truly, Death had been right. Some Endless was he.

“Dream?” Hob’s hand landed on Dream’s shoulder from behind.

Dream was Endless. Dream did not panic. And yet, he did not even feel himself move until he was already across the living room, back turned to the wall, away from Hob. Even though he knew that Hob would not hurt him. Even though he knew his own power now was such that Hob could not hurt him. Even though.

“Whoa, hey,” Hob said, hands raised in surrender. Eyes wide and startled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I was not—” Dream started, but trailed off. The rush of instinctive flight was subsiding, and now he merely felt defeated. Pathetic.

Rather than approach him again, Hob sat down in the corner of the couch. Dream had learned, these past months, to read an invitation when Hob was offering it. So he stepped quietly back over and sat beside Hob, their thighs just barely touching.

“Did I come up behind you? Is that what did it?” Hob asked gently.

“I was lost in thought,” Dream explained. “It was not your doing.”

“Hm, but in retrospect…” Halfway through, Hob seemingly decided he didn’t want to finish that particular sentence. “What were you thinking about?”

“It matters not,” said Dream, pushing thoughts of Gault and wings back to the depths of his mind where they belonged.

“Course it matters,” said Hob. And, as if he did know what Dream had been thinking, he rested his hand on Dream’s shoulder again. Slower, this time, though. Telegraphing it.

Dream leaned into his touch. Mired in his memories, he had turned from any who might come at his unprotected back, gawk at his scars, even Hob -- but now he craved something else. Now he wanted to turn in to Hob and let Hob guard him. When Dream had told the story of those wounds, Hob had curled around him as if to shield him from further harm. Dream would seize that feeling again, endlessly, selfishly.

Hob rubbed his back, but barely got through a few motions before he was freezing, hand pressed to Dream’s shoulder blade. “Dream? Do these…” he was speaking very tentatively now. “Do these… reopen a lot?”

Through the thin fabric of Dream’s shirt, blood was weeping. It followed the path of Hob’s hand as if the wound itself was chasing his comfort.

“They never did before,” Dream said. He did not have to specify what he meant by that.

“Can I…?” Hob asked, and tugged on the hem of his shirt.

Dream inclined his head, and Hob pulled his shirt up and off, careful where it brushed the wounds. Hands on his shoulders, he turned Dream’s naked back toward him, then ran his hand down the edges of the scars, studying them silently. Dream could feel the prickle of his daydreams, his imagination, as he thought. Hob, of all people, might have the power to morph Dream’s form through his daydreams; Dream bent to his touch easily enough already.

Imagine me torn open or imagine me healed, Dream thought, only do not imagine me with wings. I do not beg, but I will beg it of you.

He could not bear to suffer that again, the promise of wings restored that were but a broken echo of their rightful magnificence.

“They aren’t actually torn,” Hob mused. “Just bleeding. Huh.” He ran a hand down over one of the scars, and for all that it did not truly hurt, merely felt numb, Dream still sensed the bleeding stop.

Powerful daydreams, indeed.

“How?” Hob said, awed.

Dream did not have the energy to explain everything to do with Roderick Burgess. He merely said, “You have dreamt it.”

“I have?”

Dream just nodded. He could attempt to explain these things properly to Hob another day. For now, Hob had managed to wash away the pain, at least temporarily, and Dream was exhausted past the capacity to deal with these emotions. The memory of his wings hung over his shoulders like a sword in a way it hadn’t since his youth.

He curled in towards Hob, and Hob’s arms went automatically around him with a little stutter of shock. He held Dream’s shoulders, the back of his head, and Dream pressed his nose into the crook of his neck.

Hob pulled Dream in, pulled him down, turned to press him between his own body and the back of the couch, yes, almost exactly as Dream had hoped he would. Too perceptive, Hob, but Dream could only be grateful for it. He let out a long, steadying breath, sinking into the warmth of Hob’s body.

“You sure nothing happened?” Hob asked, a concerned murmur.

Dream said, “Nothing of late.” And Hob held him tighter.

#its hurting dream hours again #thinking also about retired dream and how i'm pretty sure his scars would disappear if he became human (ish) and the mixed feelings #he would have about that #dream's wings #my writing #dreamling #ask #anonymous

[mosslingg-sideblog]

so i have this idea for a lil comic but I won't be able to draw it for like a week so i wrote it down in a form of a ficlet so I don't forget and i decided to post it here because why not. it's not the best because I don't write often but well. enjoy!

They were sitting next to each other in silence. It was dark. Narinder's bare, skinless arms felt cold, which he knew shouldn't be possible, but alas.

It was a nice evening, as far as evenings went, even despite the fight he and Lamb had earlier. Even though often blood and ichor was spilt, their violent interactions somehow always made evenings nicer.

They didn't talk after their fights, usually. They just enjoyed the silence while both of them slowly healed. Narinder could already feel his broken nose hurt less, and the black eye he gave the Lamb faded already. Moments like these were... Not peaceful, exactly, but something akin to it.

"How did you bear it?" The Lamb, suddenly, spoke in a quiet, unusually somber for them tone.

"Bear what?" The cat answered, even though he already knew what the Lamb was going to say.

"The burden of godhood." Narinder saw, in the corner of his eyes, how his vessel pressed their knees to their chest. "Every hour of day I'm aware of someone dying somewhere. Each day the feeling grows stronger. How did you bear it?"

The cat went silent for a moment, thinking of a right answer. There wasn't one. There was no way of making this sound nice.

"I got used to it." Was what he decided to say, "As the God of Death I didn't have any other choice. After some time, the feeling becomes a part of you. A constant presence in the very core of your being."

The Lamb was silent.

"But," Narinder turned his head towards Lamb a little, his eyes glowing red in the darkness, "After some time, maybe decades or perhaps centuries, you'll realize it's not necessarily bad. After all, death takes but also gives, be it experience to those who survived or reunions to those who didn't. Afterlife is kind to those who are worthy of it. It reunites families and gives souls their peace."

Lamb was staring at the former God of Death. Their eyes were glossy, almost as if they were about yo cry, but whether that was a trick of the light or not Narinder couldn't be sure.

After a few moments of silence, Lamb spoke again, "Do you miss it?" They asked, the question spoken in a whisper as if it was some sort of a secret shared only between the two of them.

"Sometimes I do. Sometimes not at all." He looked down at his arms. Despite being freed from the tolls of godhood, they remained an ichor-black bone. They were the only proof of his previous status, along with the bright red scars on his wrists; remains of the chains that held him for a millenium.

Suddenly he felt a weight on his shoulder. He looked at Lamb, whose head was rested against him. Their eyes were closed, though he knew they weren't asleep.

He looked up at the starless sky. Even if for just a moment, he finally felt at peace.

#if you have any questions about what's going on here ask away #cotl #cotl fic #narilamb #fanfic #cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #cotl lamb

[chronicowboy]

this is a silly little ficlet inspired by and written for @danielsousa my beloved <3

When Buck pulls up outside Eddie's house, he turns the engine off. He shouldn't. There's no reason to really. He's just dropping Eddie off. Only Eddie makes no move to get out of the Jeep for the thirty seconds they idle in the driveway. He just stares at his front door like its a particularly difficult math equation he has no intention of solving. So, Buck turns the engine off.

The sudden silence is almost suffocating, the tension between them pulled taut from their night of trash talk that had veered further towards flirting the longer the night went on - the more chips Buck lost to Eddie at the poker table.

When Eddie looks at him, something calculating and pleading in his eyes, Buck's chest tightens in anticipation of what's to come.

"I think," Eddie tilts his head, narrows his eyes slightly, "you should walk me to the door."

"Okay," Buck says softly, his heart making up for all the beats it had missed after the lightning strike. He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door, but Eddie's hand lands on his knee and aborts the movement into a twitch of fingers.

For a moment, they do nothing but stare down at the point of contact like its a disaster waiting to happen. Buck stares until he finds the courage to meet Eddie's eyes and finds him already looking back. He swallows thickly. Eddie retracts his hand. The absence of his touch burns like acid.

"I think I'm going to start dating again," Eddie murmurs into the darkness of the Jeep.

Buck doesn't remember what it felt like to fall off the top of the ladder, he doesn't remember the brief weightlessness or the snap of the slack line when he reached its end, he was already dead. But he thinks it must have felt something like this because his stomach floats for a beat before dropping like a hunk of lead.

"Oh, that's..." He inhales, holds, exhales. "Good for you, man."

Eddie's eyes flick over his face, desperate and searching, a little frantic about it. If Buck didn't know better, if he allowed himself to feel the heady intoxication of whatever it was they'd been doing all night, he'd think Eddie was begging him to object.

But then, he nods and climbs out of the Jeep.

It takes Buck a moment to remember he's supposed to walk him to the door. He staggers out onto the driveway on unsteady legs, the gravel like slick metal rungs under his feet, and drifts effortlessly to Eddie's side. Their shoulders bump just like always and then they're moving towards the door, the fifteen familiar yards stretching into a mile hike.

Eddie unlocks the door with careful movements, but he pauses halfway to the handle. He turns, takes a step towards Buck, stares.

Buck fights the urge to itch the fading scars on his shoulders, sparks of electricity tingling under his skin at the weight of Eddie's eyes on him.

"A-any ideas how you're gonna get back into dating?" Buck asks, just as desperate as Eddie's eyes had been.

"Not really," Eddie says evenly. "I know dating apps are a thing but..."

"Not your thing," Buck snorts. "I can just imagine you matching with a Hildy and throwing your phone at the wall."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Flash." Eddie shakes his head with a chuckle, looks back at Buck from under his eyelashes. Buck's breath catches deep in his chest. "I meant more because dating apps are like for hook-ups, right?"

"Some, not all," Buck says simply because he had not once considered their night would end like this, with Buck explaining the intricacies of modern dating to his... To Eddie.

"Its just difficult, you know?" Eddie sighs, falls back against the wall next to the door. "Attraction's always been difficult for me."

"Yeah?" Buck raises an eyebrow, half curiousity, half surprise.

"Its like..." He sighs, deep and heavy. "I don't know. With Shannon, we were friends first and then I started noticing her as more than that. And Ana was... Well," he grimaces, "I'm not entirely sure I was ever attracted to her." Eddie's eyes light up with something thoughtful. "I'm pretty sure the only person I've ever known I was attracted to is..." Eddie snaps his mouth shut suddenly, his gaze drifting over Buck's shoulder.

Buck nods. He doesn't know what it means.

There have been a hundred moments tonight, a hundred moments imbued with something intentional, a hundred moments that felt like the edge of something. This moment feels like the tip of the blade they're both balancing on.

"Sex complicates everything," Buck breathes, an echo of a long ago moment when the worst thing they'd been through together was the hour-long line at Santa's grotto filled with handsy moms and snotty children.

"Yeah," Eddie murmurs, eyes dropping to Buck's lips, just for a second. "Yeah, I guess it does." He stares once again, with those dark, desperate eyes. And then, "night, Buck."

Eddie slips through the front door, and the click of the lock has Buck losing his footing on the knife edge he's been abandoned on.

He should move, should climb into his Jeep and drive back to his loft. He should drink a glass of water, wash the night off him and get some rest. He should, should, should. But he's so fucking tired of doing what he thinks he should. For once, for once, he wants to do what he fucking wants.

And right now there's only one thing he wants.

Buck takes one step, two, three. He raises his fist to knock on the door just as it swings open.

And, stood there like every one of Buck's dreams come true, is a wild and warm-eyed Eddie.

They stare, Eddie glances down at Buck's lips, and they reach for each other as synchronised as they are in everything else. They collide, a tangle of lips and longing and teeth and desire and tongues and yearning, a culmination of a night of lingering looks and flighty touches, a crescendo to a five-year masterpiece of trust and intimacy.

Eddie pulls Buck into his home with hot, clinging hands. Buck follows, as he always does, like a moth to a flame.

Sex may complicate everything, but right then and there, there's nothing quite as simple as want.

#sami rambles #here is ur sex complicates everything callback elke muah <3 #911 show #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 fic #buddie fic #buck x eddie fic #buck x eddie fanfic #buddie fanfic #911 fanfic

[mmmichyyy]

🖤gallavich fic rec list🖤

i combed through my ao3 bookmarks and tumblr archive so here are some (but not all!) of my fave one-shots, wips, completed fics and tumblr ficlets i read & reread this year, ranging from newer fics to ones published in the past years ✨ there's almost 50 (!!) recs here so hopefully you'll find something new to read 🖤

check out the fic rec list i compiled last year!

(i didn't include the fics i've already mentioned in the last list plus the endless fics posted this year to avoid making this list longer than it already is, but if i had infinite time & space i'd include them all 🥰 onwards!)

one-shots:

seal my fate by allyasavedtheday (s2 canon divergence)

fix me up by biblionerd07 (Mickey has a lot of scars. Ian has a lot of feelings about those scars.)

shut the door and let go by @tellmegoodbye (s3 sleepover re-write)

these days, life is better by biblionerd07 (Ian realizes Mickey is the most romantic guy on Earth.)

in the romance section by kissteethstainred (When Ian moves to a new area, he starts to frequent the local bookstore. Eventually he begins to visit the bookstore for the owner more than the books themselves.)

icarus is online by @mishervellous (AnonMate is all everyone is talking about. Ian wants in on it.)

beginners by @bravemikhailo (Ian and Mickey meet the day they graduate college and all they've got is one night together.)

start again by allyasavedtheday (A little look at how Ian (and Mickey) comes to terms with his bipolar disorder.)

falling for you without a second look by xylodemon (s3 roadtrip)

for his honey by @squidyyy23 (ian’s impressed when his husband’s business savvy helps them expand their farm. and he's going to make sure he knows it.)

'tis the damn season by @sweetcresta (Ian comes home for Christmas and old habits die hard.)

sneaking in by @ianandmickeygallavich (Sneaking into a movie feels different. It shouldn’t, friends go to the movies, families go to the movies. But….Ian can’t help thinking about the fact that it’s a classic choice for a date.)

eighty-four by kissteethstainred (college/time-travel au)

if you love me, won't you let me know? by kissteethstainred (college au)

five times mickey wears ian's clothes and one time ian wears mickey's by @teatimeallovertown (A brief look at the journey of Mickey and Ian through the clothes they share.)

i'd follow your love down a dead end street by zoeplacid (Ian Gallagher wishes his soul mate was Mickey Milkovich, but the universe seems to have other ideas.)

wildfire by ilostyournumber (Ian is a bipolar stripper and Mickey is deep in the closet and they try not to tear each other apart.)

'til our compass stands still by biblionerd07 (Mickey just assumed they'd have smooth sailing from here on out. It never occurred to him being in prison together might be the easiest part of their relationship.)

wips:

sweetpea by @whatthebodygraspsnot (shapeshifter!cat!mickey! 🐈‍⬛)

reckoner by @thisdivorce (Ian Gallagher is married, stable, happy working as a Paramedic and trying to start a family, but a chance encounter with the foul-mouthed father of one of his patients—who has more ties to Ian than either of them know—threatens to blow it all up.)

selfless acts of the illegal variety by @abundanceofnots (The last thing Ian Gallagher thought he'd be at 19 is married—and to a grumpy Ukrainian bouncer called Mickey who's barely said ten words to him since they first met, no less. But when a rare chance at love knocks on your door, you don't just send the cute guy in dire need of a green card back to his homophobic father in Kyiv, right?)

your question has been received by @celestialmickey (a tumblr AU with a bit of a twist)

change like shifting shadows by @thisdivorce (priest!ian)

bound & free by @sunoficarus (magic/fantasy + marriage of convenience au)

a beginner's mind by @spoonfulstar (a collection of stories that take place after the events of ch. 27 of you'll never see us again)

the fine art of falling for you by @goodkwuestion (Teaching the Arts is hard enough, but mastering the art of falling in love might just prove downright impossible.)

paragraphs by @palepinkgoat (Ian has an opportunity to be a reading tutor for ex-convicts. He meets one in particular that catches his eye.)

things beyond mistake by @gallavichy (Ian, a high school teacher in need of a fresh start, returns to his childhood home after nearly 20 years to find himself once more sharing a lonely dirt road with Mickey, the boy he once knew and the man he's desperate to get to know.)

rebuilding (series) by freespiritedone (After almost 6 years in prison during which he was simultaneously built up and torn down, Mickey is free and embarking on a brand new life in New York City. Everything is different and yet some things never change - even if he wishes they would. Coming to terms with a new life while contending with the old is harder than anything he could have imagined. *long, slow burn)

completed:

technically by @annatrow (Ian Gallagher has grown up in the foster care system for most of his life, and he’s pretty sure he’s got his future figured out. That is until he falls for the bad kid who is about to change the entire course of his life.)

please don't say i'm going alone by biblionerd07 (Ian shows up at Mickey's wedding and asks him to run away together. Somehow, Mickey finds himself stupid enough to say yes.)

geometric progression (series) by romanticalgirl (angsty s4 au) *sidenote: i reread this all the time when i feel down just to feel even more depressed :')

these foolish games by @suzy-queued (A workplace rivalry becomes a love quadrangle. With laser tag.)

through the dawn (series) by spock (a semi-au set in a universe where mickey and ian didn't grow up in the same neighbourhood.)

SLOML (series) by @good-then-dont (short fics exploring Ian and Mickey’s own exploration of their relationship in a world where 3x6 never happens.)

ian the friendly ghost by @sunoficarus (ghosts au where Mickey thinks the house he moved in is haunted because the doors seem to close on their own and his shit somehow gets neat and tidy and Ian's just a very polite ghost who's got a bit of a crush on the adorable grumpy guy who's just moved in)

the little things give you away by kissteethstainred (When Ian first sees them, he thinks they’re twins. They both have similar looks, with pale skin, dark hair, and blue eyes. They act similar too—both of them are quiet, they fidget in the same way, and they make some of the same facial expressions. Ian wants to know them.)

my nine lovers by @annatrow (Secret Agents Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich find themselves working together multiple times over the course of ten years.)

mickey mantle vs. the t-rex by zoeplacid (angsty alternate s5)

broad-shouldered beasts by biblionerd07 (Six years after Mickey goes to jail, he's released on parole. He does his best to build a "normal" life and a relationship with his son while juggling the scars of his past.)

OSHA compliant by romanticalgirl (It's been two years since they broke up. And Mickey's got his life together. Which means it's about time for something to come along and screw it up.)

you make me feel human by dragona (In which Ian is a cold-blooded serial killer with a soft spot for a certain South Side asshole.)

tumblr ficlets:

fiction in the archives by @gardenerian (ficlets and 5+1 prompts)

what we talk about when we talk about love by @bravemikhailo (a collection of one-shots, ficlets and prompt-fillers originally posted to tumblr)

tumblr fics ✨ by @gallawitchxx (collection of ficlets, 5+1 prompts, scene fillers)

time travel au part one / two / three / four / five by @whatthebodygraspsnot (s1 ian & mickey meet their s11 selves)

who's more cold & happy husband weight gain by @iansfreckles (& all their drabbles!)

magic au & migraine ficlet by @arrowflier

& of course, check out @galladrabbles for a wide range of 100 word ficlets written by our talented community & @gallavichfanficlibrary for more specific rec lists ✨

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[wild-karrde]

Part 2: The Pillar

Series Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: ALRIGHTY THEN. Did I intend to write a part 2 for this little ficlet from my 400 follower celebration? No. Did I do it anyway and use it as an excuse to introduce my OC Crater? Yes. Will there be a Part 3? Also yes. I REGRET NOTHING. The biggest of thank you's to @teletraan-meets-jarvis, @sleepingsun501, and @rexxdjarin for helping me make sure my boy gets the best intro and that all of the thoughts/thots about him in my head translated well onto paper! If you'd like a little more info about Crater, you can find his character sheet here.

Pairings: OC Crater x f!Reader, mentioned Gregor x f!Reader

Rating: E (18+ MINORS SKEEDADDLE)

Warnings: language, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, fingering, rough sex, anal play, oral sex, PiV sex, marking, anal sex, sex toy use, cum eating, mention of foursome

Word Count: 13.5k words (I'm sorry... it got away from me so fast)

“KARKING HELLS, CHUCK! Do you have mynock shit between your ears instead of brains?” 

You’re angry. Angrier than you’ve been in a while. And Chuckles isn’t backing down either. 

“I don’t know who the kriff you think you’re talking to, Bolts, but you’d better take a walk before we both say something we’ll regret,” he grits out, teeth clenched and a fire in his eyes. 

But you’re not about to be told what’s what. Not when he’s on your turf. 

“It’s my fucking garage. You don’t like what I’ve got to say? You take a walk.” You jab your finger into his plastoid chestplate threateningly. His nostrils flare as he glares at you, and you can see him teetering on the edge of control.

You’ve gathered a bit of an audience as you and the mohawked clone pilot go nose to nose, some of which are snickering and “ooooh”-ing. 

“Your garage?” Chuckles snarls.

“Yeah, in case you missed it, I run shit around here. And I’m telling you I can’t get your fucking fighter fixed until next week.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“You should have thought about that before smoking your stabilizers flying like a fucking hotshot.” 

“You sure you wanna tell me how to fly my ship, Bolts?” 

“Since you don’t seem to have an idea how to, sure.” 

The vein in his neck is bulging now, and the scar at the corner of his mouth is pulled tight. You’ve known Chuckles long enough to tell that you’ve pushed all the right buttons to get a rise out of him.

Good. Asshole. 

“I thought Gregor fucked the grump out of her,” Strike mutters from his seat on a crate, which garners more snickers. You whirl on him, brandishing a wrench and waving it menacingly at the pilot. 

“You want me to fix your face next, shithead? Got the only thing I need for that right here.”

Strike scowls, pushing himself to a standing position. “You’re out of line, Bolts.” 

“I’m out of line? Fuck you.”

“That’s enough.” 

The jeers and laughter grow silent and the crowd parts as the commanding officer of the 28th Combat Wing strides forward, carrying his helmet under one arm. Crater’s voice is gruff as he steps in between Chuckles and you, glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“She’s right, and you know it Chuckles. You’ve been told before not to fly in that config. You know it burns out the stabs faster. Now, I’m sure you’ll get your fighter as quickly as Bolts can get to it. Isn’t that right, Bolts?” 

You glare at him, but his eyes demand a response. “When I get the parts.” 

Crater watches you for another moment before nodding. He seems to understand that’s as much of a concession as he’s going to get out of you right now.

And then he whirls on Strike. “And you will learn to hold your fucking tongue. We don’t do that shit here. You want to air other people’s business out in front of everyone? You go run for the fucking senate. Until then, you keep the scuttlebutt you hear to yourself.”

“Didn’t hear anything. Just not hard to put two and two together,” Strike mutters under his breath. 

Crater strides forward until he’s looming over Strike. They’re the same height, but somehow, the captain towers over the other pilot. His tone is low and dangerous, his voice dropping to a gravelly octave that makes you shiver. “I know you haven’t been off of Kamino long, but around here, you don’t speak to a commanding officer that way. Especially when you don’t have a single scratch on that shiny fucking armor.” 

Strike swallows slightly but says nothing else. 

Crater glares down at him for one more second, pinning him with his gaze before he turns and addresses the rest of the onlookers. “Now all of you get to the fucking barracks and get cleaned up. You stink to the seven hells.” 

The squad departs, some of them still shooting dirty looks over their shoulders at you, especially Chuckles.

He’ll get over it.

You turn on your heel, heading towards your private office in the corner of the garage. The door’s been off track for a while, so you slam it open unceremoniously and stride inside. Just as you go to slide it shut with a grunt, a gloved hand slips around the edge, keeping it open. You glance up and meet Crater’s eyes. 

“Can we talk?” 

You shrug, stepping away from the door and plopping down on the creaky chair by your desk. The joints protest as you lean back in it, threatening to finally give out and dump you on your ass. Crater shuts the door behind him before setting his helmet on your desk and leaning a shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms as he studies you. He looks tired, and you’re not sure if it’s the campaign he just got back from or his men or you. A small pang of guilt shoots through you as he meets your eyes, raising his scarred eyebrow at you.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?” 

You sniff, shrugging as you pick some lint off your jumpsuit. “Nothin’. Just a scuffle.”

“Seems like you’re getting into more and more of those.” 

You and Crater have always gotten along just fine, finding a mutual respect and trust almost immediately. He always seems to have everything figured out, and you’ve never seen him fly off the handle like some of his brothers. In fact, the incident in the garage just now is the most upset you’ve seen him, and even that was hardly more than a growl and a few threats. You admire his leadership. He always seems to find the right thing to say to each of the various personalities on his squad, but sometimes you dislike when he deploys the same understanding on you. It unnerves you to a degree. 

Now, you roll your eyes at his observation, astute as it is. “Your boys don’t listen, Crate. Neither do any of the other flyboys that come through here. Everyone’s shit is broken because they can’t be bothered to fly with an ounce of sensibility, and then they’re all pissed when it takes time to get repairs done.” You wave your hand at the stacks of datapads and flimsi that are stacked on your desk. “I’ve got backorders on backorders, out-of-date maintenance logs, you name it. But I’m one person. And there’s not exactly a line to come work down here.” 

“You’re stressed,” he notes. 

“No shit.” 

“Overwhelmed.” 

“Tired of giving orders and making requests that are ignored.” 

“Tired of being in charge?”

“Sometimes. Yeah,” you admit. “But someone has to be.”

He nods. “When’s Gregor planetside again?” 

You glare at him, but he gives you a knowing look. You sigh. “Who the kriff knows? That’s not a regular thing, by the way. Just a way to blow off steam. But it’s been months since I saw him last. Seems he’s being kept busy.” You worry about the commando sometimes, but you’re not about to admit it. Judging by the look Crater gives you, you don’t need to. 

“And you were more tolerable when it was happening,” he teases.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, I’m on my own in that department for the foreseeable future.” 

You don’t know why you feel comfortable talking with him about Gregor. Probably because it felt less like an accusation and more of just a concerned observation, not like he was looking to get more gossip at your expense. 

Because you trust him. Maybe too much.

Crater is quiet for a moment, watching you carefully, clearly weighing something. 

“What?”

He smirks. 

“Well, if you’d ever like to blow off some steam, let me know. But you can’t keep taking it out on my men.” 

You snort out a laugh. “Crate, I don’t think you can help with that.” 

“Oh, I think I could.” 

“How so?” Your curiosity is piqued, particularly with the way his grin is playful but his eyes have darkened considerably. You’re in denial internally about what he might be implying, but that only lasts for another second as Crater huffs a quiet laugh before closing the distance between you. He puts one gloved hand on your desk, leaning over you as his other hand comes to rest just above your shoulder, gripping the back of your chair. Your stomach flutters as he stares down at you, tilted back in your chair so far you feel as though you’d tip over if he let go. The chair creaks, but you hardly note it over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You can feel his breath on your cheek and your cunt throbs at the realization he’s standing between your knees, your toes barely touching the floor with the way he has you tipped backward. You feel as though you can’t breathe. He’s studying you again, clearly making a final judgment call before he speaks. 

“I think you’d like someone else to take charge for once. So you can let go.” 

His voice is so low, it feels as though it rumbles every organ in you and sends shivers down your spine. He’s so close, you can smell him, see the tattoos on his neck that just barely poke out above the collar of his black undersuit, and the greys that are beginning to dot his dark chestnut beard and hair. You’ve always thought Crater was attractive. You’d have to be blind not to, but you’d never anticipated having him lean over you like this, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him while he suggests things like that. 

At least, you think that’s what he’s suggesting. 

You can’t help but tremble slightly at the thought as his eyes bore holes into yours. Your thighs clench together subconsciously, and his eyes dart downwards, watching you squirm. He laughs in a low rasp that promises trouble, straightening and picking his helmet up off the desk. You haven’t moved, but he’s already at your door, pushing it open again. 

“Remember what I said, Bolts. All of it.” 

And with that, he’s gone. 

—

Weeks pass. Nothing gets better. If anything, things get worse. A major supply hyperspace lane gets shut down by Separatist forces, meaning parts are even harder to come by, causing even more delays. At least the clone pilots seem more understanding, the 28th Wing in particular. You aren’t sure if Crater privately met with his men, but they have been suddenly more lenient with you. The natborns, however, make up for it by being infinitely more terrible. 

“THIS IS COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE,” one particularly surly human admiral rants, spittle flying unchecked as you don’t even bother looking up from your datapad. “You are to have those fighters ready to go within a rotation. That is an order.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, Admiral, I don’t take orders from the GAR,” you mutter. “And unless you’ve got a stash of converters, stabilizers, hyperdrive capacitors, and power couplings in your back pocket, no, your fighters will not be ready to go in a rotation.”

“I’ll have your job for this.” 

You’re exhausted, but can’t help but give him a smug smirk, nudging him even closer to an explosion. He’s easy prey in that respect, hardly sporting, but it’s been a miserable week, and you’re ready to have some fun. He’s not the first officer to try to intimidate you with unemployment, and you know he’s unlikely to be the last. But you also know it’s an empty threat. No one else could handle this work. If that person existed, the GAR would already have hired them since you’ve pissed off everyone else. 

“I have work to do, Admiral. So if you’re done bloviating, get out of my office and try to have a lovely evening.”

The man is practically purple with rage, veins bulging from his throat above his tight Republic collar. He clearly isn’t used to having people check him, and his response is even more telling. 

“I’d heard you were challenging, but really, you’re just a frigid little bitch.” 

That does it. 

You stand, kicking your seat away from you. It rolls into the back wall with a loud crash. “You wanna try that again, Admiral?” you ask, charging towards him with anger heating your cheeks. He’s taller than you, but that’s never stopped you, and you certainly aren’t going to let some washed-up asshole that reeks of stale caf and cheap cologne talk to you like that in your own office. His fists clench, and you almost hope he swings first so you have an excuse to pummel him right there. 

“Problem in here?” 

You both whirl to look at the doorway. There stands Crater, helmet on and cocked to the side as he studies the both of you. His posture is completely relaxed, as if he didn’t just walk in on the start of a physical altercation. 

It takes all of the wind out of your sails. 

The admiral turns and smirks down at you, clearly convinced he’s won by your reaction. “I was just leaving.” He pushes past Crater, exiting the office. Crater’s visor never leaves you, but you can’t look at him. 

You’re fuming. Angry that nothing’s going right. Angry that your garage can’t run efficiently and the reasons are completely out of your control. Angry that you didn’t sock that admiral in the jaw. Angry that he got the best of you and he knows it. 

Crater says your name, but you don’t look up, trying to slow your breathing. He sighs and turns to leave. 

You make a decision. 

“Captain.” 

He turns back. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you plunge into uncharted territory.

“I’ll take you up on that offer you made a few weeks back.” 

He doesn’t move for a moment before, clearly making sure you won’t change your mind. Some of your fire returns at his hesitation, and you jut your chin out defiantly. 

“Chickening out on me?” you challenge.

In an instant, he’s closed the distance between you and has backed you up against the wall. Your breath fogs his visor as he stares down at you, resting his hand against your throat. 

“You certain you want to be a brat right out of the gate?” 

You swallow hard, feeling the gloved palm of his hand press against your neck. 

“Might want to pace yourself. Otherwise you’ll be in for a long night,” he warns.

“What makes you think that isn’t what I was hoping for?”

He chuckles darkly, and the helmet’s modulator seems to make it even more intimidating. 

“What are your hard no’s?” 

“You’ll be hard-pressed to find them,” you reply. Your mouth is dry, but other places are already soaking. You’re almost glad he has you braced against the wall because your knees suddenly feel gelatinous beneath you. 

He tilts his head. “Think on it a bit more. Have an answer when I come back from my briefing. Then we’ll begin.” He releases your throat and steps back. “Be ready.” 

He once again leaves you alone in your office, shivering in his absence. 

How the fuck do I get ready for this?

You brush your hair out of your face, catching a glance at your reflection in the small mirror you have stuck to one wall. You’re covered in grease and sweat, and your hair is sticking out at odd angles. 

A shower then. 

You’re glad the day’s over as you slide your office door closed. It would be hard to concentrate on anything else right now. You push through the door that connects to the small apartment and refresher that have become your home away from home. It had been one of your few stipulations when you took the job, knowing you’d rarely make it back down to your lower-level Coruscant apartment. It had originally been a large storage closet, but with some work, you’d converted it into a decent-sized bedroom, stacking a few changes of clothes in an empty crate in one corner. The bed was at least comfortable, tucked up against one wall with a small bedside table next to it. You quickly shove the dirty clothes strewn on the floor in a corner before shucking off your jumpsuit and hurriedly showering. You don’t have any sort of lingerie or anything remotely alluring here, and you’re considering what to wear while wrapped in a towel when you hear a soft knock at your door. 

You turn and find Crater’s silhouette looming there, blocking out the dim light of your office. 

“That was a quick briefing.”

He shrugs as if he’s used to coming upon you in only a towel. 

“You shut the office door?” you ask.

“Yes. And you should really get that fixed.” His helmet is off, and his dark eyes are roving over you and your towel-covered body. 

“Add it to my list,” you mutter, trying to maintain some sort of confidence under his stare. “I’m sure that admiral will be so pleased to hear it takes priority over his fighters.” 

He snorts in amusement as he steps into the room, shutting the apartment door behind him. He sets the helmet on the ground before he starts peeling off the top half of his armor, one piece of plastoid at a time, and neatly stacking it in the corner. 

“Did you think more on what your hard no’s are?” he asks. 

You’d come up with a few and rattle them off. 

“Those are fairly extreme. Don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” he rasps. The top half of his armor is completely off now, and he rolls up the sleeves of his black shirt as he approaches you, circling you slowly. “But I’m glad you put serious thought into it and came up with something.” 

“You got anything I need to avoid doing?” you ask, trying not to nervously rock on your heels. You’d rarely had issues with people seeing you naked, but for some reason, Crater’s gaze has you feeling timid, even with the towel still hiding your body.

“I don’t think you’ll get there, but I’ll let you know if you get close,” he replies as he comes to a stop in front of you. His sleeves are rolled all the way to his elbows, and you can see the tendrils of the other end of his tattoos poking out on his forearms. You’d never realized how far his tattoos stretched, only ever having seen the fine lines that poked out of the collar of his shirt. Now, you find you want to know how much of his skin is inked and how far the pattern stretches. 

“My eyes are up here, gorgeous.” 

You flush, but raise your eyes to meet his steady gaze. He’s watching you carefully and fuck, you want to squirm with him looking at you like that. 

“So you respond to praise then. You prefer that?”

You shrug. “Could go both ways.”

“Where would you like me to cum?”

You can’t help but smirk at that question, but his expression is stern. “Wherever you like,” you reply. “I’ve got an implant.”

He hums, gently brushing some of your damp hair out of your face, a tender gesture that contrasts sharply with his next question. “May I mark you?” 

“Nowhere the jumpsuit can’t cover.”

“How rough would you like me to be?” 

You think for a moment. “Breathplay is good. Impact too. Bruising is fine. Nothing that would draw blood.” 

He smirks. “Good girl.” 

Your thighs rub together, and he notices, huffing a quiet laugh. 

“Toys I can use?”

You point to the bedside table. “In that drawer.” 

“You know the color system?”

You nod.

“Give me your definitions.” 

“Green is good. Yellow is slow down. Red is stop.” 

“And if you can’t verbally communicate?”

“Three taps.” You reach out and demonstrate on his chest, letting your fingertips rest there.

He catches your hand. “I want to be very clear here. You are under no obligation to do anything with me. And if you say red, we stop. No debate, no questions. This is for your benefit, so I’ll push, but when I hit a limit, you have to let me know. Deal?”

You can’t help but smile there. “Deal.”

“Any other last requests?”

“Ruin me.” The words fall out of your mouth before you realize you’ve said them, but you don’t regret them. You need this, and he can see it. Crater’s eyes darken even more, and he grins wickedly as he pulls your wrist to his lips. You feel his beard scratch your skin, and you shiver at the thought of where else you may feel that sensation before the night is over. 

“With pleasure.” He cups your jaw, running a thumb over your lower lip. “You will refer to me as Captain or sir. Understood?”

A thrill shoots through you, and you push your luck, shrugging. “Sure.”

His nostrils flare and his grip on your jaw tightens. “You are such a fucking brat,” he whispers. “I'll fix that.” He grips the towel, giving it a firm yank and tossing it in the corner. He steps back and studies you. You shiver again, although you can’t be sure if it’s from the chill on your damp skin or his piercing gaze. He circles you again, inspecting every inch of your body. You feel yourself tremble slightly as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “On your knees.” 

You think about pushing him further, but decide against it, at least for the moment, slowly sinking to your knees and gazing up at him expectantly. 

“Open your mouth.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. He squats down in front of you, balancing on the balls of his feet, watching you. You start to giggle from nerves, but his hand rockets out, catching your jaw again and squeezing until your lips part from the pressure.

He slips the tip of his glove into your mouth. 

“Bite,” he grits out. 

He loosens his hold just enough for you to do as you’re told this time, gently taking the tip of the fabric between your teeth. His fingers slip out of the glove, and he takes it from you. He repeats the exercise with his other glove, tucking them both in his back pocket. Warm tan fingers press on your lower lip, and you open your mouth, allowing him in. Two fingers slide in, pressing on your tongue. Saliva pools in your mouth, but Crater keeps your jaw pried open until you feel some drool slide down your chin. 

“Messy girl,” he rasps. “Suck.” 

You close your lips around his fingers, sucking gently on the pads. You can taste his sweat, slightly salty against your tongue. 

“Oh, come on, gorgeous. With a mouth like that, I expected more. You’re going to have to do better than that if you want me to let you suck my cock later.” 

You feel your cunt throb and you inhale sharply as warmth floods between your legs. You’re certain you’re dripping onto the floor by now, and it’s only been a few minutes. 

“You like that thought, don’t you?” Crater asks, shoving his fingers into the back of your throat. You gag, and he starts to withdraw, but you catch his wrist, pressing his fingers deeper while you run your tongue over his knuckles. 

Crater’s brow furrows and his lips part slightly as he watches you gag again on his fingers, but you keep going, obediently sliding them in and out of your mouth. You hum around him, and you can see he’s fighting to maintain control. You grin. 

“Something to say, pretty girl?” he asks, shoving another finger into your mouth. “Go on.” 

“Having fun, Captain?” is what you try to ask, but it comes out garbled around his digits. 

“Try again, gorgeous. I can’t understand you.” 

You glare up at him and he smirks before withdrawing his fingers. 

“I was always told it’s rude to talk with my mouth full, sir,” you snark. 

“You’ve had no problem being rude up until this point,” he murmurs, letting his damp hand trail across your collarbone before grazing your breast. 

You clench around nothing. It's been months since anyone touched you. 

He notices your response, raising his eyebrow as he pinches one nipple between his fingers and tugs it gently. You whimper quietly. 

“Needy,” he observes. 

“Been a while.” He pinches your nipple harder. “Sir,” you gasp. 

“Hmm.” He releases you, pushing himself to a standing position. You shift, trying to gain some source of friction, but he slips a knuckle under your chin, tilting your head upwards. “None of that. You take what I give, and nothing more. Understood?” 

You bat your eyelashes at him. “Yes, sir.” 

Crater stares down at you with an unamused expression for another half a beat before releasing you. He crosses your room to your nightstand and pulls open the drawer, rummaging inside. You can see his eyes raking over the contents, carefully cataloging everything before he holds up your plug, glancing over at you. 

“You stretch yourself on this?” 

“Yes, sir,” you say quietly. 

“Anyone ever taken you there?”

“No.” It’s something you’ve always wanted to try, but you’ve never had a partner you felt bold enough to ask. And those that have asked have always seemed too eager. So you’ve resorted to toys, stuffing your ass full with the plug as you fucked your cunt with another toy. But no matter how many times you came, teeth clenched around the fabric of your pillowcase, your curiosity about the real thing still wasn’t sated. You always knew it would have to be with someone you trust completely, someone you know won’t push you or your boundaries just to lay claim to you. 

Someone like Crater. 

He stays silent, clearly expecting more from you. 

You try to stutter out a more thorough response. “B-but I like to feel full when I…”

“When you what, pretty girl?” 

“When I fuck myself.” 

The corner of his lip curls. “Filthier than I thought. Good.” He takes out a bottle of lube, your dildo with the remote, and the plug and sits on the bed with them next to him. He leans forward on his knees, crooking a finger towards you. 

“Come here, gorgeous.” 

You grin, falling forward on your hands and crawling towards him, allowing your ass to sway back and forth. His face remains neutral as you slide between his knees, running your hands over the plastoid that still covers his thighs. You’ve always been good at finding the right buttons to push with people, but Crater has largely remained a mystery to you in all the time that you’ve known him. Now, you watch carefully as you scrape your fingers closer to his inner thigh, watching for any telltale twitch. You want to see if you can make him crack. 

He’s immovable. 

“You seem to think this is some sort of competition,” he says quietly, as though he can read your thoughts. “You won’t break me, sweetheart.” 

You pout your lips. “You’re no fun.” 

He slips one hand into your hair and grips tightly, pulling your head back as he leans over you again. You can feel the roots of your hair tug sharply, and it sends another thrill through you. Crater leans forward to whisper directly into your ear. His beard scrapes your cheek, and his breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “You’re still being a brat.”

“I thought pilots enjoyed a challenge,” you manage to gasp. 

“I do.” He releases your hair, and you sit back. He shifts back on the bed and pats his knees. You start to straddle one, but he places a hand on your hip, stilling you. “No, love. Over them.” 

Your legs quiver at the realization of what he’s asking, and your mouth falls open slightly. 

“Tick-tock, pretty girl. The longer you stand there and waste my time, the longer this’ll be.” 

You drape yourself over his thighs slowly, shuddering at the chill of the plastoid and how the edges of it bite into your skin. You rest your elbows and knees on the mattress on either side of him, balancing as he pushes down on the small of your back to arch it to his liking. Your ass is in the air, and it feels so exposed. Crater rubs small circles in your spine before allowing his hand to drift downward, lightly passing over the curve of your ass. You feel your skin explode in an array of goosebumps as a jolt shoots through you. You unleash a shuddering breath. 

“You are needy. So eager to be touched,” he teases as he traces down the curve of your ass, curling his fingers on the inside of your thigh. He’s so close to where you want him, but he steers clear of your dripping cunt. For now. 

“I think fifteen is a good start considering how you’ve behaved the last few weeks,” he rasps. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you have my cock.”

“Fifteen, huh? Can you count that high, Captain?” you ask, earning yourself a sharp pinch to your nipple with his other hand. You inhale sharply, biting back a curse. 

“Twenty then. And you’ll be the one counting. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, smart girl?” 

You open your mouth to retort, but the first smack lands hard, biting into the skin of your asscheek. Heat floods through you and your mouth falls open. 

You’re already craving another. 

“Count for me, or we start over.” 

“One,” you pant. 

He continues, landing some blows over the same area, and you can feel the heat and redness bloom there. Other times, he moves onto an untouched patch of skin, and the shock of sudden pain makes you squirm, desperate for some sort of friction against your neglected clit. It feels as though electricity is licking up your spine with every strike, the pain giving way to a euphoria you’ve never before experienced as his warm palm soothes your stinging skin in between each blow. 

But you keep count. 

“See, I knew you could be a good girl for me. You’re doing so well,” he whispers as he rubs the place you’re certain he just left a handprint. “Halfway there.” One hand curls around your thigh again, and you feel fingers finally brush against your folds, slipping along them with ease. “I see you’re enjoying yourself,” Crater observes. “You’re soaked.” He lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking your taste off of them before he lets his hand slip back between your legs, sinking two of his thick digits into you. You fist the blankets as the next blow lands at the same time Crater curls his fingers inside of you. 

“Ah fuck! Eleven!” 

Crater pulls out slightly out before pressing back into the knuckle, driving into you. He finds the spongy place inside of you and bears down on it as he spanks you again in the same place. Your eyes roll back into your head. 

“T-twelve.” 

“Good girl.”

SMACK.

“Thirteen,” you whine. The plastoid is so cold against your heated, sweaty skin as you writhe in his lap, trying to press back against his hand. He adds a third finger. 

“Who would have known all it took for you to be nicer was a few spanks and some fingers in your pussy?” Crater chuckles. “Such a desperate girl.” 

“Please,” you whisper. 

“Please what?” 

“More.” 

“So polite all of a sudden.” He presses against your asshole with his thumb, and you arch your back, pushing against him. “Oh, you want me to take you there, don’t you? Want me to claim your ass tonight?” 

You do. You want him to, and he knows it. You mouth a silent “yes” as you glance back at him, and his eyebrow raises at your muted admission.

Crater hums as he pushes harder against the tight ring of muscle and you gasp. Your knuckles are white with how hard you’re gripping the sheets. 

“Color?”

“Green. Fuck. Green.” 

SMACK.

“FOURTEEN.” 

Your breath is coming in short pants as he rubs at the raised, tender flesh of your ass. You hear the click of a cap, and suddenly his thumb is pressed back against your asshole again, slicker than before. He pushes forward, breaching the tight ring of muscle as he curls his fingers in your cunt again. 

“Oh, Maker, yes. Right there, Crate-”

SMACK.

“It’s Captain or sir,” he reminds you in that same gravelly tone he used on Strike, sending a shiver through you. “Now what do we say when someone gives you what you want?”

“Fifteen! Thank you, sir,” you gasp, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes.

“Good girl.” 

You clench around his fingers at the praise, and he huffs another laugh, pressing his thumb deeper into your ass. He lands the next few blows in rapid succession. 

SMACK.

“SIXTEEN. THANK YOU, CAPTAIN.”

SMACK.

“FUCK. SEVENTEEN. THANK YOU, SIR.” 

You can feel the coil tightening in your stomach as he lands two more, nearing the end. After nineteen, you’re babbling in his lap, desperately pressing back against his hand, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“You think you deserve to cum?” he asks.

“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” you whimper. 

“Not yet, pretty girl.” 

SMACK.

“Twenty,” you sob. 

He removes his fingers from you, and you immediately feel painfully empty. His other palm rests on your back, rubbing soothing circles as you feel your pulse in your fluttering, empty cunt.

“You did so well,” he praises. You quiver under his touch. “Are you still green?”

“Still g-green,” you stutter. 

“Louder.”

“Green,” you declare more firmly.

“Good. Lie down.” 

He helps you stand on shaky legs, carefully moving you to lie on your back on the bed. You feel the softness of the blanket rub against the inflamed skin of your ass and thighs, and you shudder at the thought of the marks that’ll be there tomorrow, a reminder of your night with the captain. 

But he’s far from done with you. 

“Wait here,” he commands. “Don’t touch yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” you sigh with a hint of a whine. 

He retreats to the refresher, washing his hand before he comes back, his head tilted as he watches you, laid out for him on your bed. He quickly removes the rest of his armor and boots, grinning smugly as your eyes follow every new part of him that’s exposed to you. You want him, and he knows it. Reaching for his waist, he tugs his shirt up and over his head, tossing it next to his armor. 

He’s fucking stunning. You knew he would be, but somehow still weren’t prepared. The tattoos you’d seen evidence of curl from his elbows over his shoulders, weaving in geometric patterns across his collarbone and shoulder blades before reaching up his neck, where they end. Each line seems to flawlessly frame a muscle or tendon, perfectly accentuating it. His body is littered with small scars, with one larger one visible on his hip, dipping below the waistline of his pants. Without his codpiece, you can see the pronounced outline of his cock, straining against the black fabric. Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips, meeting his eyes. 

“Not yet,” he teases.

You’re huffy now, having recovered slightly from your denied orgasm, and he glowers at you as you pout. 

“Hands under the headboard,” he orders. You glare at him for another moment, and he raises his eyebrow again in warning. You concede, slipping your fingers under the wooden edge and gripping it tightly. “Good. Keep them there,” he orders as he slowly approaches the bed. “Or else I’ll get some binders.” 

“Probably the most use they’ll have gotten,” you snicker. 

“You really want to make this difficult?”

“Got a reputation to keep up.” 

He snorts before climbing onto the bed and straddling you, lowering his body onto yours slowly. You can feel the warmth of his chest against your skin, and your body is screaming at you to wrap your legs around him, but you really aren’t that interested in the binders that he threatened you with. 

You’re more interested in getting his cock inside of you as quickly as possible. 

Crater is infuriatingly patient and precise in his motions, but then again, you suppose that’s why he commands an entire combat wing. He slips his hand into your hair again, gripping but not pulling. He tilts your head slightly, exposing your neck to him. “If I remember correctly, your jumpsuit collar goes to about here,” he whispers, nosing at the perceived boundary on the skin of your throat. His beard is tickling you, and you’re shaking with anticipation. “That seem right to you?” 

“Yes, s-sir,” you stutter. 

“Already a mess and I’ve hardly started,” he rasps, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll have you begging soon enough.” He kisses your neck, and you let out a sharp exhale. You’ve tried to play it neutral, but somehow, he’s zoned in on the exact spot you like to be kissed, the spot that drives you wild. And he notices the way you respond, bearing down on it with his teeth and tongue. You start to grind against him, desperate for any sort of friction, desperate to feel his cock. You manage to catch the head of it on your clit through his pants, rubbing for a millisecond before his unoccupied hand locks firmly on your hip, holding you still. 

“You’ll take what I give, pretty girl,” he snarls in your ear. “And the longer you’re greedy, the longer you’ll wait to have me fill that pretty pussy.” 

You whine but relent, letting him resume his attack on your neck and collar bone. He works slowly and methodically, marking you as he works his way to your breasts, where he seemingly spends an eternity lavishing them with attention. He sucks bruises, he bites gently, and he takes your nipples in his mouth, paying special attention to what makes you writhe and gasp. 

And then he moves lower, slipping between your legs and kissing just below your navel as he spreads your legs wide with his hands on the back of your thighs. His breath is so warm against your dripping cunt, and you spasm in his grip as he blows on you purposefully. 

“Asshole,” you grumble. 

He bites the inside of your thigh hard, and you yelp. Looking down, you can already see the bruise blossoming where his teeth caught your skin. 

“Only nice girls get to cum. Now, remember, keep your hands where they are.” 

He nuzzles against the flesh of your unmarked thigh, placing warm kisses and gentle bites. His beard scrapes the tender skin just before his teeth graze you, threatening to mark you where only you’ll see. You close your eyes, tipping your head back as you try to fight the way your legs are trembling, but that earns you a sharp slap to the inside of your thigh. 

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” 

You catch your lip between your teeth as you obey, your eyes finding his brown ones, which seem to be practically glowing. He keeps his gaze locked with yours as he nuzzles your clit, blowing on it gently. You whine, and your legs try to close, but he firmly holds them open. 

“I’m going to break you,” he whispers. “By the time I’m done, all you’ll know is my name and the word ‘please’.” 

You tremble again just as he dives in, driving his tongue and eating you ravenously as you gasp and thrash in his grasp. 

Crater is a master at pulling you apart slowly, and he takes his time, working you to the edge with his tongue and mouth and then chuckling as he pulls away, leaving you trembling and crying out in frustration. He’s a quick study and eventually adds his fingers, thrusting into your cunt as he suckles at your clit in the way that he now knows will have you clenching and gasping. The third time he deprives you, you unleash a frustrated growl, and he laughs quietly at your frustration. 

“Please, Captain,” you whine. “Please.” 

“Not yet.” 

He goes at you again, alternating with his tongue and his fingers, and it feels as though it only takes seconds for your body to begin to tighten, begging for the release that he’s robbed you of. 

“Knew you’d taste good,” he mumbles into your skin as he presses his fingers back inside of you. “So sweet and warm.” 

“P-p-please. Please.” 

He nips at your thigh and you cry out, tears leaping into your eyes as droplets of perspiration dot your forehead. Crater bears down on the spot inside of you, watching you as you babble. 

“Please, I'll do anything you want. Please, sir, please. I need it.”

“Tell me what you need, gorgeous.” 

“I need to cum. Please. Do anything you want to me. Please just let me cum. PLEASE!”

“Not yet.”

You sob. 

He keeps working you, disintegrating your resolve with every pass of his tongue and his fingers. The scratch of his beard is delicious, contrasting sharply with the warmth of his mouth and the soft press of his tongue against you as he laps at your heat.

“Captain, please. Gods above, I’ll let you have anything.” 

“Anything?”

“Yes. I’ll suck your cum out of your cock. You can have my ass. I’ll give you anything.”

He chuckles. “At the bargaining phase, are we?” 

The tears are streaming from your eyes, and you unleash a choked sob. 

“Ask me again.”

You’re gasping now, teetering on the edge. 

“Please, Captain. Please let me cum.”

“Good girl.” He kisses your clit, and you moan, your knuckles aching from how hard you’re holding the headboard. 

“Cum for me.” 

You do, screaming his name as your body spasms with wave after wave of your orgasm. He holds you in place, working you through it until your body finally sags into the bed, slick with sweat and wrung out. Your mind is hazy as you feel him crawl up next to you, pressing his fingers against your lips. You let your mouth fall open, welcoming them in as you clean your release from the pads of his fingers. When he’s satisfied, he leans over you and kisses you, and you can feel how wet his beard is from your release. He reaches up as he kisses you, pulling your hands from the headboard. You immediately bury them in his dark curls, running your fingers over the back of his head, relishing this new touch he’s permitted. 

The way Crater kisses you feels as though he’s stealing the air from your lungs. His tongue gently finds its way inside your mouth, running along your lower lip as his hands wander your body, gently rubbing and caressing. After what feels like an eternity and not long enough, he relents, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Are you ready to continue, my gorgeous girl?” 

“Yes, sir.” You’d been determined to make this harder for him, but he’s broken you, and you’re more than ready to bend to whatever his will may be. You trust him implicitly, just like you always have, but somehow, it feels deeper now. You know as rough as he may be with you here, he’ll never hurt you in a way you don’t ask for. His eyes are staring directly into yours as he strokes your cheek tenderly. 

“So good for me,” he whispers. He kisses your cheek, moving along your jaw until he reaches your ear. He gently takes your earlobe between his teeth as he grips your thigh, coaxing you to wrap your legs around him. You do it immediately, quivering again at the thought of finally being filled by his cock. 

Crater is kicking his pants off as he whispers into your ear. “Now that you’re being good, I’m going to fuck you until you’re boneless. You’re going to cum exactly as many times as I want you to, and no less. But you have to ask me first, and ask nicely. Do you understand?” 

You nod. 

“Use your words, love.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Color?” 

You can feel the head of his cock resting against the puffy, soaked lips of your pussy. Crater is stroking himself against your slit, coating himself with your release. You look down and see he’s as big as Gregor, but with a little more girth, and Maker above you’ve never wanted anything more. 

“Green.” 

He grunts as he notches his head at your entrance. “Good girl.” 

Crater enters you slowly, watching your face as he breaches you. Your release makes it easier to take him, but not easy. You feel your walls stretch to accommodate him as he slowly thrusts shallowly into you, pressing a little deeper each time. Every time his head catches your entrance, you whimper, and he responds with a thrust. You can feel how tightly you’re stretched around him, every ridge apparent as he takes what you’re more than willing to surrender.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers. 

You reach up to touch his face, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist before he leans forward and captures your lips again. He groans into your mouth as he bottoms out, pressing his hips against yours, and the feeling of him inside of you is bliss you’ve never experienced. He stays still, but his entire body is tensed, a taut spring waiting to be unleashed. He strokes your cheek. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I won’t be gentle.” 

You raise your head, grazing his lips with yours. “I don’t want you to be.” 

He chuckles darkly. “Good.” 

His hips draw back before slamming against yours, and you see stars as the head of his cock finds the perfect place inside you. He starts off at a steady but hard pace, knocking the wind from you with every thrust of his hips. His hands wander your body, squeezing your breasts, playing with your clit, finding every place that makes you unfurl more underneath him. 

At one point, he sits up, placing his hands at the back of your knees and pushing them towards your chest. The angle of his next thrust has you screaming to religious entities you don’t even believe in as he reaches impossibly deeper inside of you. His thrusts are deliberate and perfectly timed, his fingers bruising, and it’s not long before you’re pleading with him again. 

“Maker, I’m gonna cum again. Please let me cum, Captain. Please.” 

“Yeah? Already? You’re not making this very difficult.” He sheathes himself to the hilt and holds there. It feels as though he’s rearranging your insides, and you’re shocked you can’t see an outline of his cock through your stomach. 

“Gods. Please, Crate. I’m so full.” Tears are leaking from the corners of your eyes as he drags himself out again, leaving just the head inside of you. His thumb presses against your clit with a feather-light touch, and you jolt at the contact, whining desperately. 

“Not yet, you’re not,” he rasps. You feel his fingers prod at your asshole, and you fist the sheets, arching your back as your mouth falls open. You hear the click of the lube bottle opening again. 

“Color?”

“G-green.” 

His cock slips from you, and you want to scream, but he holds your legs where they are, and you feel the blunt head of the plug nudge your other entrance. 

“Relax for me, pretty girl.” 

You do, inhaling and exhaling deeply as you quiver with anticipation. The plug slips inside you, and it’s bliss you’ve never experienced. Crater watches you for a moment before he slides his cock back inside of your pussy, folding you back in half again. 

You’ve never felt this full before, never this pleasured, and you’re not sure you’ll ever feel this way again. 

But you need it. 

“Fuck. Don’t stop.”

A hand settles on your throat, firmer than the last time he grasped you like that.

“Eyes open for me, love.”

You didn’t even realize you’d closed them, but your eyes flutter open and find Crater’s in the dim lighting. They’re piercing. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and his gaze follows it. 

“Do as you’re told, yeah?” he groans. 

“Yes, sir,” you gasp. 

The grip on your throat tightens slightly, pressing on the sides. “Squeeze for me.” 

You focus on contracting your muscles even though your mind feels like a blur. Crater grunts as your cunt tightens around him. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” His cock slams into you, and you relax, letting him fill you. 

“Again.”

Crater releases your legs, fucking you with his hand around your neck. You’ve never tried spice, but you imagine this has to be what it’s like. You’re floating, you’re moaning, you’re sweating, all while wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, more intense with every thrust of Crater’s hips as the head of his cock continues to stroke that perfect place inside you. The grip on your throat tightens when he wants you to flex your muscles, and after a few cycles of it, you tighten around him without having to be asked. Crater’s fucking you in earnest now, the hand still around your throat, and your head is swimming. He releases you for a second, watching you. 

“Color?”

“Green,” you whisper. 

“Louder for me.” 

“Green,” you say more firmly. 

He’s still watching, and you see a flicker of something, concern maybe. 

“I said I’m green, Crater.” 

He takes your hand, placing it on his side. “Tap if you need.” 

“I will. Now please fuck me.” 

The grip tightens again, and you’re back to floating, and before you know it, you’re begging him again. 

“Cum on my cock, pretty girl.” 

You do. You cum hard, clawing at his back as he bites your shoulder. Your vision whites out as you writhe underneath him, clenching around his cock until the orgasm subsides, leaving you panting. 

“Good. That’s two.” 

“How many you shooting for?” you gasp. 

“As many as it takes. Now on your knees for me, love.” 

You roll over onto your knees, bracing yourself against your elbows. You feel exposed like this, back arched and presenting yourself to the captain. You feel him staring at your dripping heat, and you shiver under his gaze. His fingers trace along your lips as he positions himself behind you, nudging your knees apart as he presses his cock back into you. Your back arches almost by instinct, and he groans as he bottoms out, leaning over you. You feel his abdomen press against the plug in your ass, and you try to push backwards to drive it in deeper, but a sharp smack to your ass makes you freeze.

“What did I tell you about being greedy?” he rasps. “You take what I give you.” 

You squeeze around him in the only act of defiance you can muster, and he chuckles darkly before he leans forward, pinning your arms behind your back with one hand while fisting your hair with the other. The roots of your hair creak again under his grip, but the pain is beautiful as he slams into your cunt again with a wet slap that makes your face burn. 

“You talk a big game, but I know what you really crave,” he grunts as he fucks you. “You want to be told how filthy you are. You want to be used like this, to surrender to someone else. You want someone else to take charge. Your dripping little cunt tells me everything I need to know.” He’s got his weight tipped forward onto the small of your back, arching it even further as he snaps his hips into you again, accelerating the pace with each thrust until he’s pounding you into your mattress. Your head is pulled back and forth by the grip he has on your hair, and you allow yourself to go limp as Crater drives into you again and again. You’re more than happy to let him use you, especially as he strokes your insides deliciously, stretching you around his cock as your ass relaxes around the plug. It’s bliss. 

After a few minutes, he adjusts again, tipping further forward, and suddenly, he finds the deepest part of you again, and he knows it when you moan loudly under him. He slows, dragging himself out of you before thrusting roughly back in, and you try to bury your face in the sheets to hide the obscene whines that are falling from your lips. But a rough tug of your hair turns your face outward, and you gasp and moan, some of your saliva leaking onto the sheets as Crater fucks you. 

“None of that, love. I want to hear every noise you make.” 

He pulls you apart, piece by piece, yanking another orgasm from you in a matter of minutes before he flips you back onto your back, pulling your ankles up to rest on his shoulders and gripping your hips as he pistons into you roughly. You lose track of how many times you’ve orgasmed, and each time, Crater only allows you a moment to catch your breath before he’s moving you again, gripping your body roughly and taking what he wants from you. You’re boneless and malleable, and he’s seemingly insatiable. 

He’s fucking you on your back again, with one leg extended between his with the other on his shoulder as he drives into your soaked cunt. Sweat is trickling down his neck, trailing along the lines of his tattoos. His dark curls are glistening with moisture, and one drop falls from his nose, landing on your abdomen as he snaps his hips into you relentlessly. 

“I’m almost there, love,” he gasps. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.” 

You’re panting with exertion, trying to hold your orgasm at bay as he grips your hip, driving himself into you impossibly deeper. You worry that his orgasm will mean the end of this night, and he seems to notice your concern.

“Ask for what you want, pretty girl.”

You’re suddenly shy, even with his cock buried inside you, even wearing the marks of his teeth and his hands on your flesh. 

He slows, whispering your name. “Tell me what you want.”

“I… I want you to fuck my ass. I want you to have me there, Crater.” 

His eyes search yours for a second before he resumes his relentless pace. “I’m going to cum in this pussy. Then you’re going to clean my cock off with that smart mouth of yours. And once I’m nice and hard again, I’ll claim you there. That what you want?”

Heat rises in your cheeks. “Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir. Please sir.”

“Good girl.”

He leans forward, adjusting to the angle that he knows will rip another orgasm from you, and sure enough, you’re pleading with him again in a matter of seconds. This time, he’s merciful. 

“Cum with me. Right now. Do it.”

You’ve never been so responsive to a lover, never felt as though your body was perfectly calibrated to follow their commands, but Crater’s words send you hurtling over the edge, and you feel him twitch as he empties himself inside of you. It takes several thrusts, and you’re certain you’re full of his cum, dripping with it. 

His final thrusts make obscene sounds, and you feel the warm stickiness dribble out of you. Crater pushes himself up on his hands and knees, reaching for the dildo and gently nestling it inside of you, replacing his cock. It’s cold and not enough compared to him, but your disappointment only lasts a moment as he crawls to the head of your bed, sitting against your headboard with his legs spread. He reaches for the remote on your nightstand and beckons you forward. 

“Come clean me off, love. Get me ready to take you again.” 

You feel as though you’re drunk as you roll yourself onto your hands and knees, clumsily crawling towards him on wobbly limbs. He watches you with a slight smirk as you drop to your elbows between his knees, nuzzling at his abdomen and kissing the scar on his hip. He gently brushes your hair out of your face, gathering it in one hand. 

“You want this, love?”

“So much,” you whisper. 

His cock is still half-hard, glistening with your combined releases, and you gently wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around the tip. The taste is salty and tangy and warm, and you can’t believe how quickly you crave it, slipping him further into your mouth. He grunts in surprise as you suddenly feel a second wind overtake you, making you eager to run your tongue along every inch of him. You clean him until your saliva replaces the slick cum on his shaft, tracing veins and flicking the head of his cock with your tongue. You hear a dull thunk as his head falls back against your headboard, and he gathers your hair in one hand, applying pressure to the back of your head. 

You want him to use you. You want him to bruise the back of your throat. You want him to make your voice rasp in the morning as a reminder of this night. 

His cock hits the back of your throat, but you hold yourself there, fighting your gag reflex and the tears that are blurring your vision. You can see his abdomen heaving as he experimentally thrusts into your mouth, testing your limits. You swallow around him. 

Crater moans. 

“Good fucking girl. Maker, I knew that mouth would be incredible. Gonna have to be careful or else I’ll cum down your throat, love.”

You hum and the grip on your hair tightens as you feel his cock swell and pulse against your tongue. 

“Oh, you want that do you? You want me to fuck your mouth?”

The sounds as your saliva squelches around him are obscene, but he begins pistoning up into your mouth, moving your head to meet his thrusts. You rest one hand on his thigh in case you need it, and you feel his muscles tense with every snap of his hips. 

“So fucking good. I should come by more often just to do this. Shut your office door and fuck your throat when you get mouthy with me. You love this, don’t you? Love being put in your place. Love being used to slick my cock, you sloppy little thing. Relax your throat for me. Oh, fuck, yes. Just like that.” 

You’ve never heard him this vocal, and as you manage to glance up, you see how his lips are slightly parted. His brows are furrowed, and you can tell you might finally have him knocked slightly off balance. A new wave of arousal shoots through you at the thought of making Crater crumble. With renewed fervor, you bury your nose in the curls at the base of his cock, inhaling his scent just before your airway is cut off, and you gag. But you hold yourself there, and his hand rests heavily on the back of your head. 

Suddenly, you groan as he clicks the remote for the dildo in your cunt. It vibrates to life, pressing against your stretched walls, making your legs quiver.

“Good girls get rewarded,” he rasps.

You become ravenous, eager to taste his cum, desperate to have this man fill your throat. You want nothing more than to pleasure him, to submit to him, and you let him take what he wants from you. Crater drops the remote, burying both hands in your hair as he lazily thrusts in and out of your mouth, giving you instructions occasionally, which you follow without question. The dull buzz between your legs combined with the pressure in your ass and the throb of Crater’s cock on your tongue brings you to the edge again, but this time, you can’t beg with your mouth full. 

He notices. 

“Do it. Cum for me. You’ve been so good.”

He clicks the remote again, and you scream around his cock. He presses your head all the way down, groaning as your shrieks vibrate around him. Just as you’re spent, he pulls you off of him, turning the vibration off. He’s almost painfully hard, you can see that. His cock is fully erect and twitching, glistening with your saliva in the dull lighting of the room. You rest your cheek on his thigh, and he strokes your hair. 

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

“Wanted… wanted to taste… you,” you pant.

He strokes your hair. “Another time. I promise.” 

You whine. “Please fuck me.”

That was apparently the answer he was hoping for, not wanting to expend himself too early if that’s what you really wanted. He’s read you again, but you can’t be bothered by it as he asks you “Where?”

You know he’s making sure this is what you want, so you meet his eyes with as firm a gaze as you can muster. “Please fuck my ass, sir. I need it.”

“How could I refuse such a polite request?” 

Crater eases out from underneath you, crawling around behind you and guiding you onto your stomach. He folds a pillow in half and helps you raise your hips to stuff it under them, raising them to his liking before he straddles you, enclosing your legs with his. He pushes the vibrator in your cunt a little deeper, you having squeezed it out slightly during your last orgasm, and then he clicks the low vibration back on. Your muscles tighten around it, and you grip the sheets, arching your back and moaning as he presses it further in and clicks the button again. The vibrations ramp up, and you writhe beneath him. He taps the end of the plug in your ass, and you turn to look over your shoulder at him. 

“You gonna let me have your ass, sweetheart?”

It’s one last check. And you’re so grateful for it. But you’re also so impatient. 

“Yes. Please fuck my ass, Captain.” 

His eyes leave yours to watch as he plays with the plug a little, tapping and moving it in and out of you before he removes it completely. You feel achingly empty and wiggle your ass, hoping it will entice him to fill you faster. You’ve never been taken there before, but right now, you want nothing more. 

“I’m going to go slow. Use your colors.”

“Please, Crater.” 

The lube bottle clicks open, and a few seconds later you hear the sound of him slicking his cock. Coolness hits your asshole, and you gasp as fingers slip inside of you, working you even more open. 

And then you feel it. 

Crater uses one hand to spread your asscheeks as he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and slowly begins to ease in. So slowly. Tears leap into your eyes as your muscles stretch to accommodate him. It’s slightly painful, but the pleasure outweighs it as he gently thrusts just the head in and out of you. It feels as though your cunt is stretching too, and the vibrations inside of you suddenly become more intense. 

You need him deeper.

“More,” you plead. 

Crater sinks a little further into you, moving his hand to the small of your back instead to brace himself. And that’s when it hits you: he’s inside of you completely, not having to hold himself there, in a place no one else has ever been. 

The realization drives you wild. 

And then he taps the vibrator again. You gasp loudly, fisting the sheets. 

“More. Please!” 

He sinks deeper, but it’s too much too fast this time. You gasp out a color.

“YELLOW.” 

He backs off quickly, but your hand rockets around to keep him inside you. 

“Just a little slower. I’m sorry. I thought I was ready,” you choke out.

“Don’t be sorry. Not at all. I’m glad you told me.” His voice is tight. You know he’s holding back. And that’s why you want to keep going. Because you trust him like you’ve trusted no one else. 

“Don’t stop. Just go slower. But please don’t stop.”

“You’re sure?” he asks again.

“Yes. Please. I’m green.” You thrust back slightly, just to your breaking point, and he takes your lead. You feel your body relax around him, and this time, you’re positive when you ask him for more. He’s slow and patient, working his way inside you. The stretch is delicious, and Maker, you’ve never been this full. Nothing you do with your fingers or toys after this will be enough. Not with the way his hand is rubbing comforting circles in the small of your back as he destroys you one centimeter at a time. 

“More.” 

He sinks deeper, and now you’re babbling as he slowly drags himself back out of you before sinking back in. You reach between your legs to press the vibrator against your clit. 

“Fuck, Crate. You’re so big. It’s so big and perfect. Fuck. I fucking love the way you feel in my ass.” 

“You gonna let me cum in this tight ass, pretty girl?” he grits out. He doesn’t correct you on his title, but you’re pretty sure he’s almost as far gone as you are.

“Gods, yes. I want you to claim me there. Paint my walls where no one else has. I want to feel you leak back out of me.”

His hands grip your hips so hard you’re certain there’ll be a perfect set of fingerprints there. He’s doing everything in his power to go slow, and you can’t wait to turn him loose. 

“More, Crate.” 

You feel his hips come to rest against your ass as he bottoms out. He’s panting against your shoulder blades, attempting to keep his composure. The realization of how deep he is inside of you has your cunt fluttering around the vibrator, and you almost orgasm from the thought alone. He stretches his legs out, lowering his weight on top of you. One set of his fingers interlaces with yours, and the other hand comes around to cup your throat. He doesn’t squeeze this time, just cradles your jaw, holding your head up as he nuzzles against you. 

“You’re so good for me,” he whispers against your skin. “So fucking good.”

You look over your shoulder at him as much as you can, watching a line of sweat trickle down his temple. 

“Fuck me, Captain.” 

He does. He’s slow at first, but the drag of his cock all the way back out and all the way back into your ass makes you mewl, and before long, you’re pressing back into him. He ramps the vibrator up to its highest setting, and your eyes roll back into your head. 

“Harder. Please.” 

He obliges, snapping his hips deeper and putting more of his weight into each thrust. Your toes dig into the sheets as your whole body begins to tighten. 

“I’m so full. It’s so good. So good. Fuck.” You can’t stop babbling as he pounds into you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he gasps. “You take my cock so fucking well. Like you were made for it.” He groans loudly as he bottoms out again. “You love this, don’t you? Being stuffed in both holes?”

“Yes,” you sob. “It’s so good.”

“I bet you’d love to have Gregor’s cock in here too. Maybe he takes your sweet little cunt while I pound your ass.” You moan, clenching at the thought. Crater doesn’t stop. “But that still leaves your mouth. Maybe I get Chuckles in here to fuck that smart little mouth while Gregor and I take you. Would you like that, pretty girl? To be ruined by three men at once?” 

You whine and spasm around him, and he feels it. “Fuck, you’re such a dirty girl. Who would have known the smart-mouthed mechanic would let me do this to her? Let me ruin her in the backroom of her office. I want you to always remember this when you’re out in that office working. How I took you back here and made you scream my name. How you begged for my cock. Maybe I’ll take you over that desk before I go in the morning so you think about that for the rest of the day while my spend leaks out of you.” 

“Crater, I’m gonna cum.”

“Not until I say you are,” he grits out. “Not until I’m ready to.” 

You inhale sharply, trying to keep your body from toppling over the edge. 

“Don’t you cum yet,” he snarls. 

“I’m trying,” you whine. “But I’m so close, Captain. So close.” 

“Keep talking.” 

Your mouth runs on autopilot, desperate to find the words that will yank him to the edge alongside you so that you can both tumble off together. 

“Your cock is so fucking good, Crater. Gods, nothing will ever be enough after this. You fill me up so perfectly. I need it, Crate. I need to feel your hot cum in my ass. I want to feel it leak out of me. Fuck. Please give it to me, Crater. Please cum in my ass.” 

His thrusts grow more erratic, and you know you’re about to get what you want. 

“G-gonna fill you up,” he growls. “Gonna be the first to claim you here.”

“My ass is yours, Crater.” 

“Yeah it fucking is.” The grip on your throat tightens, pulling your head back again, and that last little pinprick of pain has you teetering on the brink. It’s like the first day when he had you tipped in the chair of your office, your toes barely touching the floor. All it will take is the slightest push to send you toppling over the edge.

Just a little further. So close.

“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” you sob. 

“You’re so cute when you beg,” he rasps directly into your ear. And with a loud groan, his hips stutter as he cums in your ass, gasping. 

“Now,” he moans.

And your orgasm rips through you. He drops your head, and you scream into the sheets as wave after wave washes over you in the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. Tears stream from your eyes and your body spasms again and again. You feel like you’re floating somewhere between consciousness and some other plane of existence as you come out of it, barely aware of what day it is or what your name even is anymore. 

When the waves of your orgasm finally stop battering your wrung-out body, you collapse limply against the sheets of your bed. They stick to you, but it feels as if you’ve sunk halfway through the mattress somehow. Your mouth feels dry from screaming. Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips, and you’re aware Crater is laying on top of you, panting against your neck, but trying to hold the majority of his weight off of you.

“Get it out,” you mumble. 

He’s already slipped from your ass, but he quickly turns off the vibrator and eases it out of your cunt. You feel yourself start to shake uncontrollably. You’re not sure if it’s due to the orgasm, the sudden chill on your sweat-soaked body, or something else. Regardless, Crater lies next to you and pulls you close to him, being careful to keep his sullied hand clear of you. His nose grazes yours as he gently cradles your head. 

“Breathe with me, Bolts.”

You do, and the shivering begins to subside after a few cycles. You finally open your eyes and find Crater’s steady gaze watching you, a comfort as always. 

“I’m going to go get something to clean you off with. I’m going to be right back. Alright?” You nod, your mind still hazy, and he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving off towards your ‘fresher. The sink hisses softly, and a moment later, you feel your legs gently being parted and a warm, damp cloth moving over your body, thighs, and between your legs as Crater carefully cleans you. Once he’s done, a dry towel runs over the same areas, soft and gentle, before he rolls you onto your back, removing the pillow from beneath your hips. You hear the mini-fridge in your outer office open and close, and a straw is placed at your lips. You drink greedily as he strokes your hair, draining the water packet in a few seconds. 

“Good girl.” The words are softer now, carrying no heat. “Do you need more?” 

You shake your head and open your eyes just in time to see him toss the spent water packet into the rubbish bin. He slides into the bed next to you, pulling the blanket over the two of you before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You snuggle into the crook of his shoulder in a daze, inhaling his smell and draping one of your legs over his thigh. His fingers stroke your cheek, and he presses gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks. Strong, gentle hands trail over your skin, caressing tenderly in a way that so sharply contrasts with how he touched you just moments before. He searches for sore muscles or tension left untouched but finds none; you’re completely relaxed in his grasp. His fingers graze over the bruises and bite marks he left, pressing gently and watching for your reaction, ensuring you’re not in too much pain. It’s sweet, but not something you’re used to. You know this hardly counts as being pampered by most people’s standards, but you’re not used to the doting tenderness. Even if you do find yourself melting into him more with every passing second, allowing your eyes to drift shut again as you release a satisfied sigh.

“I’m alright, Crate,” you mumble after a few moments, growing shy under his attention. 

“I need to be sure,” he says quietly. “That was intense for you.” 

You smile. “It was, but it was so good.” Your eyes flutter open, and your heart melts at the way he’s looking down at you. You were worried about how this moment might go, concerned about how your friendship might shift after allowing this to happen. 

But you should have known better. Crater is a pillar but also a soft place to land, someone you’d confide in without hesitation. His men fall in line because he’s someone to fly into battle with, someone you know will keep you safe. He’s proud but humble. You know he won’t tell a soul about this night. He doesn’t need to. He knows what he did for you, how you begged for him, and that’s enough. And if you’re honest, you think he got as much out of it as you did, enjoying watching your walls come down and you relaxing with him, enjoying the process of helping you. 

“Just didn’t realize this was an all-inclusive sort of encounter,” you joke. “You’re starting to make me feel like royalty with all the attention.”

His expression grows serious as he looks down at you, pushing some of your hair out of your face. “You shouldn’t be accepting any other kind of encounters, Bolts. Do I need to chat with Gregor when he gets back?”

“Nah. He’s fine for what he is. And he does take care of me. It’s just… different.” 

He grunts noncommittally, pulling you closer. You feel his thumb graze your spine. 

“You jealous?” you ask, tongue poking out between your teeth teasingly.

“Not at all. We’re different people giving you different things.”

“That makes it sound like you don’t intend for this to be a one-time thing, Crate.”

“That is entirely up to you.” His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you kiss it. 

You pretend to consider it for a moment, as if this night won’t have you craving his touch seconds after he’s gone. “Well, I can’t be getting cranky with your men again, now can I?” you murmur, snuggling deeper into the crook of his shoulder.

The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk. “Definitely can’t have that. And I’m more than happy to do my part.” 

“More than happy?”

“Yeah, Bolts. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think I’d enjoy myself too.” 

“You do this with a lot of people?”

“Nope. Only ones I trust. And that trust me.” 

You twist one end of your hair nervously, the mention of trust bringing a question charging to the forefront of your mind. He can tell, taking your fingers and carefully intertwining them in his own. 

“What is it? You having second thoughts?”

“No, not at all. This was great. It’s just… have you heard if Gregor’s talking about him and I? I didn’t think he would, but what Strike said a few weeks back stuck with me. I don’t want to be the Battalion Babe of the week.” 

He nods, pulling your knuckles to his lips. “I can assure you that I haven’t heard anything and I don’t think Gregor’s like that. I think Strike was angry and lashing out. I know several of the men did see you leave 79s with Gregor, so the conclusion wasn’t too far-fetched. But Gregor’s not feeding the rumor mill.” 

You sigh. “Dammit.”

“For what it’s worth, you haven’t been a topic of conversation within my earshot. I had a chat with Chuckles too and asked him to make sure it wasn’t happening when I’m not around. He said he would, and I trust him. As much of a pain as he is at times, he’s a good man. I trust him.” 

You nod appreciatively, melting slightly at the thought of Chuckles doing that for you, but the mention of the mohawked pilot brings another question to the front of your mind. “Were you serious about you and Gregor and Chuckles?”

He shrugs. “It was something I said in the moment, but not a thing I’d approach them about without your express consent. No one needs to know about this if you don’t want them to. And I would only bring in people you and I trust explicitly. Gregor and Chuckles are two of those people. But again, it was said in the moment and doesn’t have to be a serious thing ever.” 

Your mind is whirling at the thought of having three of them at once. You can’t lie, it does pique your interest. You smirk up at him. “I’ll let you know.”

He huffs a laugh. His eyes are gentle as he leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Thank you for trusting me to do all that for you.” 

You snuggle further into him, absently tracing his tattoos with your fingertips. “Thank you for doing it for me in the first place. I’d have never asked.”

A quiet laugh rumbles through his chest. “I know. You’re too stubborn. That’s why I offered.”

“Glad you did.”

“Me too.”

His steady heartbeat lulls you to sleep only a few minutes later. 

—

When you wake in the morning, Crater’s still there, but he’s in the process of getting dressed. He’s snapping his vambraces in place as you stir, sitting up and stretching. You ache deliciously in all of the right places, but seeing him standing there reawakens your hunger. He smiles at you as you sit up in bed. 

“Morning. Figured I should get out of here before the droids start powering on. They’re not known for gossip, but better safe than sorry.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” You can’t keep the disappointment out of your voice, and even if you had, you’re confident he still would have picked up on your cues. He pauses. 

“What’s wrong?”

You wonder if you’re overstepping, but after the night you just had, you figure it doesn’t hurt to ask. You get out of your bed, opening the door to your office. Despite you being completely naked, covered in his marks, Crater’s eyes are firmly locked on yours. You lean against the doorframe, glancing over at your desk. 

“You mentioned a parting gift last night that involved my desk. That offer still on the table?” 

He huffs a laugh, his hands falling to your waist and gently guiding you out into the office. The cool edge of the desk presses against the front of your thighs as he leans down to speak directly into your ear. 

“Elbows on the desk for me, pretty girl. And try to be a little quieter this time.” 

You shudder as he nudges your feet apart, placing his codpiece on the desk next to you. 

“Yes sir.” 

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @dnxgma @meekaielmyerhs99 @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @samspenandsword

#karrde writes #OC Crater #clone oc #clone pilot oc #Captain Crater #nsft #lemon #lemony lemon #clone OC x reader #clone OC x you #Crater x Reader #Crater x You #captain crater #OC Chuckles #captain gregor #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #28th combat wing

[meetinginsamarra]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I've been tagged by @totallysilvergirl and @calaisreno TYSM!!

1. How many works do you have on A03?

51 in total

12 "real" fics and 21 ficlets and 18 covers (I didn't know how to embed on AO3 back then)

2. What's your total A03 word count?

271.977

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Sherlock BBC

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Mutual Attraction , Learn My Scars, The toe that didn´t belong, The embers still glow when I´m sober , Gravity is missing from everything

The last three are in fact a series called Here I Am

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Of course! Always and quickly. I love comments, they make my day and fill me with happiness for hours. Not kidding!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

None of my fics end angsty. Some of my ficlets might, possibly Time

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

They all end happily.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

There had been a few very weird comments on "Mutual Attraction" that were rude or offensive. Some had been deleted by the cowards who posted them later.

9. Do you write smut?

Yes, I have written porn and enjoyed it. I also write gen and everything in between. Depends on the story.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, because I define "crossover" as a mix of two existing universes, like Sherlock x Star Trek for example. I have written several AUs though. Alternate Universes with the same characters of my show but placed somewhere else.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have been offered three times but declined because I personally am not comfortable with it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Johnlock

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have this fairy tale AU sitting in my drafts for literal years. 20k written and several attempts to take it up again, it is mostly plotted but just resists being finished. *sigh*

16. What are your writing strengths?

Learning by doing, I guess? I think of myself that I am versatile. Maybe writing movie-like action scenes. I remember that's been said in comments.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I honestly do not know. (Which is not me saying I can do everything perfectly!! I just try whatever I want.) Finishing the above mentioned fic possibly.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

If it fits the story, why not? I write in English which is not my native language, so I could do German and some French and Italian, too.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Sherlock BBC.

I've actually never written anything before I started with Sherlock fanfic. I got this idea and it grew and I began to write it down just for me so that I would not forget it. Then I thought, why not write it into a fic? I've been reading a lot fanfic already. Over the course of two years (writing on and off) the idea had turned into a 94k fic. I only started posting "Mutual Attraction" when it was completed on AO3.

I still think it's funny because just imagine this. Never wrote a word of fiction before, not even in my native language. Then, first thing I produced is a novel-length fic written directly in English. Still seems surreal to me.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I love all of my babies and will not choose a fave one. There are only faves in categories.

"Mutual Attraction" was my first and longest fic.

"Wretched and Divine" was the one that made me find my dear friend and beta @peageetibbs

Technically, I am most proud of pulling off "Learn My Scars" because it is 38k written under a huge amount of pressure due to daily posting for Whumptober 2022. Five weeks of intense writing madness but very rewarding, too.

AU and plot-twist wise it would be "The 13th Book ".

---------

So many people have done this but I think @shiplocks-of-love @shelleysprometheus @cumbercurlygirl have not been tagged yet. And anybody else who wants to share, please.

#20 questions for fic writers #my sherlock fanfics #meetinginsamarra #meet_me_in_samarra on AO3

[bicycle4two]

christmas oneshot starring  jason and his little mouse from built to love, but broken now

find more ficlets of this couple here

I saw Jason kissing...

Honestly, Jason didn’t mean to forget Christmas.

To be fair, it’s Christmas Eve so he didn’t actually forget Christmas itself, but still,  it’s cutting it close and, well,  it’s a holiday that’s kind of hard to miss with all the red and green décor. Frankly, he hasn’t had much to do with the holiday the past two years, never really had anyone to celebrate it with, to buy gifts for, so it was more out of habit that he paid no mind to the lights, the music, all the peppermint flavored food advertised on café and restaurant windows.

It’s in pretty poor practice that he doesn’t notice such obvious signs, he’s a detective, he’s supposed to see these things, observe, but he’s been busy. There were finals to study for, drug deals to bust, bad guys to rough up and throw in jail, sometimes even the hospital first. Jason’s got better things to do than stuff some stockings or prepare chocolate chip cookies and milk to leave out for Santa Claus.

The jolly old saint wouldn’t be able to get them anyway, what with Jason’s new security system set up.

So, really, it was only when Jason stopped a robbery by criminals dressed in red with sacks thrown over their shoulders that he finally got the hint. The red hats with white cotton balls glued to the ends of their point helped, too.

“Pretty sure Santa’s supposed to be leaving the gifts, not taking them.” He says as his only warning, just so he could see the look on their faces when they realize who’s caught them, before he shoots, careful to not kill anyone, but definitely aimed to scare, to immobilize.

It’s an easy fight. The Santa-wannabes go down easily, so easily that Jason’s a little disappointed.

But it’s Christmas Eve, so maybe it’s a sign that he should head back home, spend the holiday with someone he actually cares about.

It’s just that he doesn’t really have a gift to give, nothing to put under the small tree—now he realizes that it’s a Christmas tree—she had set up on the table next to their sofa and all the shops are closed early so that employees clock out and be with their families. Maybe he could make something, but no, that’s a bad idea. It all circles back to everything being closed and not having enough time.

He really should have been paying more attention. He’s pretty sure the grocery he was at the other day was blaring Jingle Bells, maybe even that song about the reindeer with the nose, while he looked for ingredients for spaghetti and meatballs.

wer r u?

come home soon?

The words, like always, tickle when they appear on his skin, like a gentle caress trying to get his attention. Jason stares at the words on his skin, the way her penmanship looks so soft and dainty against the harsh scars and thinks that he’ll just make it up to her when he gets home. He’ll cook dinner tonight, he’s sure he can whip up something Christmas-y and if he can’t, well, cookies are always an option. It’s the first thing Alfred taught him to make and the years of anger and hurt could not wash away those memories.

…

“There you are!” She greets once he’s inside the door.

There’s Christmas music playing softly in the background and Jason notes that their apartment is dimly lit, a sort of orange makes their living room seem warm, cozy, in theme. She’s set the mood. But he needs to get out of his boots first so he doesn’t track any dirt or grime onto their nice clean floors. It takes a second, it’s needlessly complicated but he needs the support so he can’t really complain.

“I’m back, mouse. Sorry I’m late,” he says, voice distracted as he works on the other boot. His gaze is lowered, focused on the clasps and the laces, but once he’s free from it, he straightens up, which, hurts, but at least he’s home and she’s always been good at alleviating his pain.

The first thing he sees are her white, thigh high socks. No, that’s not right. They’re not completely white, no, each leg has a red bow tied around her thigh, squeezing the flesh in such a way that Jason’s first thought is that he wants to bite it.

Which is shocking, he normally tries to push those kinds of thoughts away, but his eyes continue their journey anyway, taking in the shortness of her red dress, the way the white lining barely covers what Jason has yet to be privy to. There’s a thick black belt around her waist, cinching it, revealing curves that she doesn’t normally show off. Then there’s that white lining again teasing him, taunting him, daring him to keep his gaze on her chest, on the exposed skin.

And Jason, Jason is only human so he lingers for a second longer than he normally would.

He wonders what else he’ll find her wearing, wonders if she’s wearing a Santa hat, too. He thinks that red is definitely her color and Jason’s pretty sure he’ll never look at a gold belt buckle the same way again. So, he’s excited to take in what she looks like above her tantalizing costume, see what she’s done with her make up, her hair, but what he sees once he moves on from the slope of her shoulders, her neck, makes him to burst out into laughter.

“Mouse. Seriously?”

“What?” She says in the most innocent tone she can muster and he’s pretty sure she’s grinning behind the white beard she has on. “You don’t like?”

“I just didn’t expect—is that glued on?”

She strokes her beard in a thoughtful manner and Jason finds himself laughing all over again.

“I think it completes the look.”

“You’re looking very festive, yes. Have you been wearing that the whole night?”

“Nah. I threw this on just for you.” She approaches him now, hips swaying, and the image is very confusing with the beard. She’s slow to wrap her arms around him, always giving him a chance to stop her if he wanted to, but Jason’s used to her touch, craves it, so he welcomes her embrace. Even if the beard is a little itchy. “So tell me, have you been a good boy this year?”

“Oh, most definitely not.” He tugs on her beard, sees that its simply looped around her ears.

“Darn. Guess that means no present for you.” Her shoulders sag and she even manages to look a little disappointed.

“I’m sure you can make an exemption?” His hands seem to have a mind of their own, they’re enjoying the velvety texture of her dress, rubbing up and down, daring to even go lower.

“No can do. I’m a stickler for the rules.” But still she manages to step even closer, craning her neck to look at him and Jason has to tilt his chin down so he can keep her gaze. His hands take this as their chance to make a move and oh, would you look at that, she doesn’t seem to mind. “But, I am a sucker for tradition.”

It says a lot about their relationship, how in tune they are, that Jason can practically read her mind, can tell that she wants him to look up with just a pump of her eyebrows, a flutter of her lashes. And when Jason tears his eyes away from her to see what she has hung on the ceiling, he grins.

Mistletoe.

“So, what do you say?” Her voice brings his attention back to her and Jason, Jason has never been more in love with her. “Feeling the Christmas spirit?”

“Lose the beard, mouse.”

And she tears it off quickly if not a little violently, snapping the elastic off and tossing the beard over her shoulder. Jason feels the sting behind his own ears, but he finds that he doesn’t particularly care right now because there’s his girl, his pretty little mouse, all decked out in his color.

“Merry Christmas, Jason,” she whispers, eyes closing as their faces draw closer together.

Their kiss is sweet, she’s definitely had some hot chocolate while waiting for him, and Jason can’t help himself, he deepens the kiss in a way that makes her let out a surprised squeak before she melts into his embrace.

And Jason, Jason thinks he’s never going to forget Christmas now.

...

happy holidays to you all!

didn't think i'd be writing a christmas special(?) but i've been home the whole day and well, why not? i hope you enjoy this piece ☺

thanks so much for all the love and support you give these two, too!

#oneshot #jason todd oneshot #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfic #christmas fic #christmas oneshot #arkhamverse #arkham knight #arkham knight jason todd #red hood #red hood reader #jason todd #soulmates #soulmate au

[perinferi666]

Pretty - Aether/Swiss (mature)

It's my first time posting on tumblr so be patient please :)

Here's a little ficlet of Aether and Swiss I wrote today

TW: mentions of body image, talks about weight, fatphobic comments, mentions of ED, NSFW (sex stuff), transgender Aether, transphobic thoughts Word count: 1987

Aether stood in front of the mirror, sobbing softly. His hands clutched at his stomach, and he visibly cringed. He hated his body, his depression getting the worse out of him, making him gain double the weight he was before in a short term of 4 months. His eyes traced over the thousands of stretchmarks littering his body. They were visible on his arms, going all the way to the back, his sides covered in red harsh lines. His stomach wasn’t better. All the way from his core, up to the scars he gained after top surgery.

He felt himself getting sick, at the sight of himself. Flappy arms, big, soft stomach, rolls visible on his sides, no matter how much he tried to suck his stomach in. He gave up, his reflection looking back at him with a disgust written all over the place.

He shivered and closed his eyes, when he heard the bedroom door open. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in the eyes of his partner.

„Hey baby” Swiss’s arms wrapped around him from the back, pressing a soft kiss to his back. Aether only nodded, still not opening his eyes, tears threatening to fall.

He didn’t want to add another burden. Swiss already had to deal with him not being a real man, he had to see those ugly scars on his chest, a reminder of what he was. And now, he was seeing Aether naked for the first time in over 2 months. As soon as Aether’s skin started to give out, he refused any kind of intimacy between them. Because Aether was fat. He was ugly and disgusting. And he was sure Swiss was going to break up with him, not being able to love someone who looked as bad as Aether did. He was once skinny, as a result of his eating disorder, but with his friends help he manager to get over it, only to be tackled down by depression. He couldn’t take care of himself, couldn’t bring himself to eat, only to devour huge amounts of junk food later, when no one was there to see him.

„I love you, you know?” Swiss whispered, his hands softly rubbing over the places where just minutes before Aether was digging his nails in, wishing to rip off his skin.

Aether opened his eyes. Tears started to fall down, no matter how hard he tried.

„What’s wrong pretty boy?” Swiss turned Aether to face him, swiping gently his thumbs over others cheeks.

„I’m disgusting” Aether choked out, and Swiss felt his heart drop. He knew it was getting bad, however he didn’t know it was that bad.

„Why do you think so love?” his voice was gentle, stripped of any judgment, because there was none inside of him. He loved Aether with all of his heart, sometimes feeling like he might burst with the amount of emotion he felt for his partner.

„Because of that” Aether angrily poked at his stomach, jaw clenching „I let myself go, I got so fat my body isn’t keeping up, and now I have those dumb scars everywhere. I. AM. DISGUSTING.” He spat through his teeth, starting to shake.

„Aether, you are so pretty you have no idea” Swiss cupped his cheek and forced him to look up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips „You know what I see when I look at you? I see my perfect boyfriend, whom I love so much, it physically hurts. I see a very brave boy, fighting through the hard times he has right now. And Lucifer, I wish I could take all of that and make you feel better, but sunshine, I can’t. You know it’s okay to struggle, it’s something you always tell our fans, yet have so much trouble believing yourself. Dealing with depression and past trauma isn’t easy Aether, and it’s okay to have worse time, no matter how lon git lasts. As long as you are fighting, or even trying to fight, then you are winning. And so what if your body changes? You are still the same person, the same Aether everyone around you fell in love with. Nothing changes. It only accomodates itself to the amount of stress, and pressure that is around you. But it doesn’t last forever, you know that. However cliche it sounds, after storm there is a rainbow. And when you allow yourself to heal, your body will too. And so what if hard times leave a mark on it? It’s only a statement of your struggle, your fight, your story. People aren’t made only of happy stories. They are made of struggles, and hard times, and it should only serve as a reminder that you were there, fought, and won. Because you will win, WE will win” his eyes were looking straight into Aether’s, full of love and fondness. And Aether couldn’t stand it. He averted his gaze, sniffling.

„You only say that so I won’t feel bad. You don’t believe it” his breath was short and panicked. He couldn’t get his head around the idea that someone might’ve loved him so much, that he was willing to stay with him, no matter how bad he looked.

Aether muttered something under his breath, and his tears started flowing faster.

„What was that?” Swiss asked his brow furrowing, trying to understand.

Aether sighed and repeated.

„I said that the truth is you are repulsed by me. You say all those things, but I know that when you look at me, you feel the need to vomit, not wanting to touch me. You should find someone better, someone you could proudly show off in public, someone you would want to make love to” Aether stuttered, choking on his words.

Swiss slightly chuckled, and brought Aether closer to him, forcing eye contact.

„Aether, I love you, but sometimes you are so fucking dumb. You make me unbelievably horny” as a proof of his words, he moved his hips closer, his semi hard cock touching Aether’s thigh „The sight of you makes me want to drop to my knees and worship you Aether, you are the love of my life, and there is no one I would rather be with or be inside” Aether blushed red at his words.

„Just because we weren’t intimate, doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about it baby” Swiss started gently grazing his teeth over Aether’s neck, earning himself a whimper from the other man.

„Now will you, please, let me show you how much I love you?” he asked, confirming with Aether that he was indeed with taking things further.

„Yes” Aether mumbled, his hands finsing his way into Swiss’s hair, pulling him closer so they could kiss. He felt Swiss smile, and seconds later he was picked up with no effort and moved to the bed. As he laid down, Swiss looked at him, taking all of Aether’s nakedness.

„Pretty” he stated, satisfied when Aether covered his face, embarassed. „And all mine” he added with a slight growl, pushing Aether’s thighs apart. He leaned, kissing him slowly, and then making a path of kisses down the other’s body. He kissed every scar, earning soft sniffles from his boyfriend. After confirming that Aether was still okay with his actions, he settled between his thighs.

„So pretty” he muttered again, putting his hands on Aether’s legs to keep them wide open. Aether softly ran his hands through Swiss’s hair, arching his back when Swiss kissed his clit.

He didn’t have time to adjust, as Swiss dove right back in, eating him like a starved animal. He lapped aggresively at Aether’s clit, hard and throbbing, slightly grazing it with teeth, which earned pretty moans from his boyfriend’s mouth. Swiss hummed happily, starting to feel Aether’s slick on his chin, leaking out of his hole.

„Someone missed me” he laughed, sending a wave of pleasure through Aether. The latter whined and pushed Swiss’s face back into his core. Swiss decided to change his tactics, moving his tongue to work inside of Aether. His grip on thighs was strong, leaving multiple marks, as Aether tried to trash around, his body jerking with each move of Swiss’s tongue. He felt Aether clench around him, and moved back, taking his lips of him.

Aether moaned at the loss of contact, too far gone in his own pleasure. Swiss rubbed his fingers between the folds, and pushed inside him. He started gentle, putting one finger in, adding two more as Aether loosened up. He felt his dick get painfully hard, precum starting to stain his pants, when he felt Aether clenching around him. He could only think about how good he was going to feel, wrapped around his dick after such a long time. He crooked his fingers, hitting the correct spot inside Aether, and making him come. He watched in fascination as Aether was squirting around his fingers, his pussy tightening on his fingers as he moved them in and out, dragging out the pleasure for his partner. Feeling Aether trying to push him away, he removed his hand and rose to his feet, looking at his flushed partner.

He made eye contact with Aether, and licked his hand clean, moaning at the taste. Aether only blushed even harder, trying to calm his breathing as his chest moved in fast pace.

Swiss leaned down and kissed him, humming at the feeling of puffy lips moving against his own.

„So pretty” he said for the third time today, moving back to take of his pants and shirt. He stood naked between Aether’s legs,  rubbing his hand up and down his cock, relief visible on his face. He smeared precum over the tip, and motioned for Aether to move up the bed. Aether listened, watching as Swiss got on the bed, kneeling between Aether’s spread legs.

„I’m gonna make you feel so good my pretty boy” Swiss kissed Aether, laying some of his weight on him, hands propped on sides of Aether’s head. He slowly moved, pushing himself inside Aether. He whimpered at the feeling of tightness around him, and Aether’s hands harshly scraping his back.

„I love you so much” he whispered putting their foreheads together, as he started to slowly move his hips. And for the first time this night, Aether didn’t avoid his eyes. They watched each other’s expressions, taking it all in, only breaking it up time from time to share a kiss, as their bodies moved slowly in a steady rhythm. Both of them enjoyed how sensitive their bodies were, how aware they were of every centimeter that Swiss was moving inside Aether.

Swiss moved his lips to Aether’s neck, starting to suck on the skin. Aether moaned, clenching around Swiss, feeling both of them getting closer. And they came, Aether first, while Swiss was leaving another mark on his body, Swiss following soon, after Aether arched his back, pulsing around Swiss’s cock. He allowed his cum to fill Aether, both of them softly moaning at the feeling, their sweaty foreheads touching, fingers entangled.

After they calmed a little, Swiss moved out of Aether, and reached for the bedside table, taking out wet tissues. He kissed over Aether’s body, cleaning them up, and he stood from the bed to throw it out. Once more he looked Aether in the eyes and said:

„So fucking pretty Aether”

The next morning, Swiss took Aether out, proudly parading around, holding his hand tightly as Aether felt stares of random people, mostly directed towards his neck, which was littered with dark bruises. And the other man with stupid grin plastered over his face wasn’t helping. He kept blushing, mostly staring at the floor, but smiling to himself. Cause Aether felt warm inside, he felt loved. And it was okay if he couldn’t love his body just yet, cause Swiss was their to love it for the both of them.

#ghost fandom #ghost the band #aether x swiss #swissther fanfiction #angst #ghost band #aether ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost fanfiction #swiss ghoul #ghost ghouls #ghost fanfic #inferno writes

[inoreuct]

Okay I actually have a few extra headcanons for this au (and the little ficlet I’m writing for you), so take them into account when reading lol (hope you don’t mind)

Zoro (when in human form) has two pairs of canines (not one, the extra pair sits behind the first. The first (normal) pair are quite large, and sometimes stick out of his mouth), and his teeth are all unnaturally sharp. Also, slit pupils because I said so. He also has tiger stripe prints on his back, although he normally excuses them as tattoos. Ears are slightly pointed, fingers more nimble, you know the drill. Moves and jumps way faster/higher than a normal person has any right to. Nails are similar to cats claws (as in, attached to the bone), and are incredibly sharp. The Tiger form is massive, and makes him look like some kind of spirit (sword + massive + green = not normal lol). Scars and the such transfer to each form. Side note, Zoro doesn’t really feel pain (or temperature for that matter), so it’s harder for chopper to treat him, because how does one treat something when the subject can’t feel it? Zoro is also really intelligent and perceptive, it just doesn’t seem that way because he has zero fucks left to give.

Hope your day is good my guy <3

IM SHAKING YOU SO HARD. WHAAAAAAT THE HELL THIS IS SO SO GOOD ALREADY.

i’m sat here hunched over my phone like 👀👀 I’M SO MAD I DIDN’T THINK OF THE SLIT PUPILS FIRST I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THAT and yes to the pointy teeth. he’s a bitey bastard with his crew already but he’s entirely capable of ripping someone’s throat out with those. and the TIGER STRIPES your brain is so HUGE. massive, dare i say. the increased speed, strength, agility— it’s not obvious when you don’t look closely but once you do it’s easy to see that he’s Not All Human. but i think his crew is almost a safety barrier against people reading too much into it, because zoro bickers and banters and lets them hang all over him, and it puts strangers at ease yk?

HE’S DEFINITELY BEEN MISTAKEN AS SOME KIND OF SPIRIT AT SOME POINT. THE WHOLE CREW GOT A KICK OUT OF IT a village thought zoro was a divine guardian or something and the entire crew got treated like royalty. usopp felt a little bad about not saying anything but the others were Capitalising and zoro was living his best life LMAO

and omg. i hate it when people pass zoro off as dumb or stupid because he is a dumbass but he’s not Dumb. he literally created his own sword style. his battle instincts are honed nearly sharper than his claws. he sits in the back of a room and seems antisocial but he is clocking EVERYTHING; who’s coming in and out of all the exits, where his crewmates are, any potential threats etc etc (also figures out exactly what booze they have by smell alone but let’s not enable him shall we)— the point is, he is intelligent, perceptive and he doesn’t seem like it, which makes him all the more dangerous. people look at him and see a blockhead with three swords, and the next thing they know they’re pinned to the ground with claws in their chest and fangs at their throat. he’s vicious and i love it.

ANYWAY I’M SO EXCITED TO READ THE FICLET YOU HAVE NO IDEA I’M DOING LAPS RN. this was so enjoyable to read already i literally can’t wait for the whole thing. HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY ANON 🫶🏼🫶🏼

#one piece #ino's ask box #roronoa zoro

[eros-ghoulette]

the gif is there because one of my cats walked over my laptop and somehow managed to put it there:

Okay... this will be a post where I try to get to the root of what's actually going on with me...

I have the problem of feeling annoying for months now. I have social anxiety and had breakdowns once in two months or something. But since a few days it just got worse. I feel bad out of the nowhere, my stomach has this weird feeling of anxiety in it just out of the blue. And i am scarred somehow. Because i had a breakdown a few days ago, and i just don't know ho to deal with that. It sounds so harmless now...

I cried and felt better after hours of feeling unreal, and i hate that feeling. I'm constantly thinking about things i said days even weeks ago and i regret saying them, i even regret it when i had so much fun and i don't understand it. Why is my brain telling me that i'm annoying to everyone?

I want to write, because writing makes me happy, and i really love to write about Zephyr and Ifrit. But now my brain tells me i shouldn't write about them, that i should feel bad for writing those ficlets of them, because i get my inspiration often from fanarts. Because my brain tells me I'm stealing others people's ideas, and i feel so bad for it.

Even when I'm not at home, i feel the anxiety just randomly creeping up in me and i get either restless or i zone out. And that never happened before (not like that. I'm bad at explaining). And i just feel tired from one moment to the other sometimes, that this feeling overwhelms me.

While writing this my heart is pounding painfully hard and when i started my hands were shaking. I don't know what to do. I feel bad out of nowhere and i want to apologize for things i did. I want to apologize for using fanart as inspiration, even though the artist liked the ficlet. I want to apologize for writing about Zephyr in nearly every ficlet, because i feel bad for doing that. And i don't know why. I just feel bad for that.

And now i have thoughts about being alone. I'm not, i have a twin, great parents and two friends i trust. But i don't trust them when it's about my feelings and needs. I realized that i will never be someone's first choice (maybe my twins, but that's all). And it's so dumb, but i reblogged the "send me a ⭐if i'm one of your favourite mutuals"... post, even though i knew i'm not that important (i feel like i sound extremely egoistic and even pick me now). Because i get attached so easily that it will hurt me in the end. And people are nearly more important to me than i'm to them.

I feel bad for writing that, but also relieved and still...

and i want to thank the people who gave me nice words, because they mean so incredibly much to me 😭

#just venting #no one will read this #i know that #just needed to get it off...

[hypnotisedfireflies]

Prompt: a good day in Indy with Joel. Lachie being her baby bro.

Thank you for your prompt, anon. 💕 This is one of my favourite periods to write so thanks for giving me an excuse to dip into a little ficlet. I hope you like this!

Early Summer 2008

Indianapolis 

Between chapters 4 and 5 of Spite

"Come on, Servopoulos! You're made of tougher stuff than that!"

Tess groaned. She was sprawled on the ground of Monument Circle. Fortunately, she'd cushioned her fall by landing square on her behind. Still, she'd gone down hard and she felt the fall reverberating through her entire body. Tess lifted her hand and winced at her skinned palm.

"That hurt," she complained. She had no idea how she'd even get up at this point.

"You've had worse." Lachie took pity on her and held out his hand. Softer, he added, "Come on."

Tess's skates scrabbled without purchase on the concrete. With considerable effort she managed to get them down at the right angle and, with Lachie holding her hand and elbow, came to her to her feet. She spread her arm out to her side for balance. Lachie rolled slowly backwards, taking her with him.

"I dropped my gun."

"Wait on, I'll get it."

Lachie made sure she was steady and bent gracefully down to retrieve her weapon. Tess tucked it down the back of her jeans.

"Okay?"

Tess nodded, concentrating on staying on her feet. Lachie took both her hands again and they turned in slow circles.

"See? You're getting it."

"I would be on my ass again if you weren't there, and you know it."

"Just think. You master this, you can outskate the infected."

"That's a great idea!"

"See!"

"I can roll right over their tendrils!"

"Fuckin' roller derby, Servopoulos. What would your derby name be?"

"I don't know." She was watching her feet. She seemed to keep them better if she kept her gaze trained down there. 

"Terror Tessa."

"That's terrible."

"They're all terrible. You know it's not really a thing at home? First time I saw one was here. I couldn't follow it at all. I'm gonna be Count Smackula! What about Harlot O'Scara? Because you've got a -"

"Huge fucking scar. I get it."

"O'Scara and Smackula. We can take them."

"Who?"

"Everybody. Come on, let's promenade."

"What?"

"Classless, Servopoulos. You have no class."

Lachie released one of her hands and held the other tight. They skated around the monument together - or Lachie skated, and Tess held on and coasted along behind.

It was surprisingly fun. Tess didn't fancy herself as doing this again. It was a survival skill she could do without. But, given how little else there was to do in the city these days, it was not a bad way to spend their time.

"You wanna go faster?!"

"No!"

"Just a bit!"

"No!"

Lachie put on a burst of speed that Tess wasn't ready for and they nearly went flying as a result. Lachie sang out with laughter and steadied her.

"Come on! Right, left, right, left!"

A few more laps and Lachie let her stop. Tess sat down on a bench and contemplated the effort of removing the skates to put her boots back on. The sooner she did it, the safer she'd feel. Lachie did a clever little twist in front of her.

"Smartass."

"Too right. Hey, can you time me? I wanna see how fast I can do it."

He was such a child. She nodded, resigned. "Give me your watch."

Tess accepted his colourful Swatch Watch. "And … go." She looked up. "Go!"

"I wasn't ready. Count me in!"

"Okay, hang on, hang on. And … three, two, one - go!"

Lachie was off. When he got back round he was disappointed with the result and swore he could do it better. He took off again.

"What the hell is he doin'?"

Tess looked over to see Joel approaching, rifle strap over his shoulder. He squinted at Lachie whizzing around the monument, knees bent and arms strafing from side to side.

"Racing."

"With who?"

"Himself."

Joel shook his head, baffled. "He's fuckin' nuts. Come on, get up."

"Can't."

Joel followed her gaze to her feet. "Oh come on, Tess. You gonna get yourself killed?"

Lachie circled to a sharp stop. "Time?!"

Tess called it out.

"I can do better, count me in again!"

"Three, two, one - go!"

Lachie skated off at speed.

Rolling his eyes, Joel unshouldered his rifle and went down in a knee in front of Tess. He removed her knee pads and then started unlacing her skates.

"I hurt my hand," Tess held up her palm as proof.

Joel frowned, annoyed with her injury. The development was like a big inconvenience. He took her wrist and turned it gently.

"It hurts," she added.

"You'll live," he decided, and blew on the scrape gently. "How's that?"

"Better."

He puckered his lips and blew again, just for good measure, then passed her hand back. He returned his attention to removing her skates and she watched, amused.

"How fast?! How fast did I go?!"

"Oh - I didn't - "

"Serv! Hey, Joel."

Joel raised his eyebrows briefly at him and tugged off Tess's skate. 

"Go again," Tess told Lachie. She counted him in, and off he went.

"I was thinking," Joel ventured, focused on wiggling off the second skate, "maybe you come back to our room tonight. I found, uh, some pretty decent single malt. Good year."

Tess rubbed her lips together. It had been a few nights since she'd woken up in Rachel's room in the darkest hours and stumbled, half asleep and wanting, to knock on Joel's door. She was missing him, and it seemed he longed for her, too. 

But she didn't know that she wanted to go back to the room with Joel right now. Waking up during the night was one thing. They didn't have to talk: it was sleepy kisses and warm comfort and peace. Just peace, a few moments off from the world and one another. If she went up now, they would drink and talk and argue and she was tired of that.

She would rather not see him at all than endure the agony of just waiting to fight.

Joel tossed her skate aside and helped her into her proper boots. "Don't fuckin' answer all at once," he muttered.

"I was just trying to work out if I was on watch tonight."

"No you weren't, and no you ain't."

"Joel."

"It was a simple fuckin' question, Tess."

"You didn't ask, you just floated some kind of random proposition."

And there it was, they were there already.

"Servopoulos, how fast?!"

Tess looked down at the watch. She hadn't kept track, so she quickly made up a number short of what she'd given him before. Lachie cheered and moon-skated in victory.

"Fine," Joel snapped. "Will you come and drink actually decent whisky with me tonight in our goddamn room?"

"Yes!" Tess snapped, not because she wanted to, but because she figured he probably wanted her to say no by now and this would confound him.

"Great." Joel stood quickly, seething. Then he did a double-take, realising she'd agreed. "Right, then."

"Right," Tess agreed. She enjoyed a smug little rush.

"Well … you wanna go now or are championing Speed Racer a little more?"

"Count Smackula."

"What now?"

"Come on, let's get out of here."

Tess left her skates behind. They were a good way down the road before Lachie realised they were gone. Tess grinned as she heard his shouts of surprise. Joel wheeled around.

"The fuck did he call you?! He call you a harlot? What. What are you laughin' at?" 

"Keep on walking, Texas. I'm getting thirsty."

(gif: maker unknown - let me know if it's yours!)

#driftersverse #asks #tlou #tlou fanfic #joel x tess #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tessjoel #tess servopoulos #joel miller

[dominimoonbeam]

The Fanfic Writer Questionnaire!

I was tagged by @ejunkiet to do this Fanfic Writer Questionnaire and now that I'm FINALLY getting back to my "normal" life and writing and talking to people again after the move, this seemed like a really fun way to start! I think I got waaaaaaaaaay to in-depth and confessional.

Tagging some people who I'd love to see play but also just anyone feeling like it! @glassbearclock @taelonsamada @romirola @zozo-01 @colloquialcolival

1 - How many works do you have on AO3?

130. I had to look up my stats and I had no idea! 92 of those are Redacted…

2 - What's your total AO3 word count?

Holy shit… 907,249

3 - What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Redacted, TOG, and 19 Days but I’ve dabbled in a handful of others over the years.

4 - What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Finally Alive (TOG), Waiting (TOG), Pieces of the Moon (TOG), Open (19 Days), and Kicking and Screaming (TOG). Look at The Old Guard dominating that particular stat!

5 - Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! There have been times where I miss one or too much time has gone, but otherwise yes. I love comments. For a long time I got in my own head about comments or even liking things because I thought I was bothering people, and that sometimes carries over to replying to comments when I’ve been busy and a week or two has passed, but then I just do it because nice things are always okay to toss out into the world!

6 - What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think I do ansty endings… I do a shit ton of trauma and hurt, but there’s always comfort payoff. Lemme see… OH! Oh fuck, it’s Stop it. I love that tiny ficlet. Warden blows themself up to take Vega with them out of Elegy.

7 -What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Almost all of my fics have a happy ending… or at least the promise of happiness to come. I need a happy ending. I absolutely run from anything (fics, books, movies, shows) if I see any hint that they’re aiming to hurt/no comfort me.

Lemme see… who had the happiest ending… I’m going to say Come Home. It’s a Nightwing/Cassandra Cain fic I did ages back and something about that ending and them is just particularly satisfying to me. And Scars That Remind. I think the hard road and possibility of not getting that happy ending makes it happier... if that makes sense to anyone else?

8 - Do you get hate on fics?

Not usually but it has happened. Both the stuff that’s just someone taking a topic or character personally, or trying to make a statement, and actual vomit emojis.... hehe it was a particularly lewd fic and I think they were inspired to hate because I actually said I was proud of the work and I don't usually share those feelings/thoughts.

9 - Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh my, yes. Where's the stat for that? I'm a sucker for deep emotional connections and trust. Even when I set out to write porn, it ends up being emotional.

10 - Do you write crossovers?

Nope.

11 - Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12 - Have you ever had a fic translated?

Maybe? I had someone ask if they could translate one of my 19 Days fics for another site and I said they could as long as they weren't pretending they wrote it.

13 - Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I'm not really comfortable co-writing like that. But I used to write on rp sites long ago (it's where I met my person) and even before that I used to write stories with a friend. We would actually trade notebooks back and forth between classes to read what the other had done and add to it.

14 - What's your all time favorite ship?

Oh shit... It's been a lot of ships.

15 - What's a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I really hate the pressure to finish long fics. I used to only do long fics because I want to keep the world and keep adding but then there's the pressure where people ask if you've abandoned it. And I always feel like "no? it's not a couch I left by the street. it's a fic. i wrote it. it's mine even if it's unended forever." And I just really want the option to go back into that world and keep going even if it's years later (which I have definitely done). ...This is absolutely my way of not answering this question.

16 - What are your writing strengths?

I'm usually pretty fast when I'm in it? And dialogue? I think I'm okay at dialogue

17 - What are your writing weaknesses?

Remembering my own descriptive choices? Weather, dates, settings, side-character names... Fluff. I'm not good at writing wholesome everyday things. Some people are so incredible at that and I'm just not. I just straight to the meat of everything every time. I worry it harms the flow and build of a lot of things.

18 - Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I will usually dance around it if it's not a language I know, like just saying in narrative that the character said it in another language, assuming both parties understand or making a point of them not. I looooved this with Nicky and Joe in TOG and the idea of them using each others languages in the early decades to try to communicate better when what they were saying became important OR going back to their own when they're too upset to use a second language.

19 - First fandom you wrote for?

Technically... The Black Jewels Trilogy when I was a baby. Like I said, I was so shy and just, afraid of being in the way in the world. I had been reading fics for years but didn't even have an account. I start writing some for Black Jewels and made and account and posted... Someone rolled into the comments and picked it apart. I'm sure it wasn't as bad as I remember. I guess I'd used a lot of the terms in the books wrong? I was so horrified I deleted the fic and the account and didn't fic for a few more years. I even deleted the fic from my computer. I've dug around looking for it again since but it's absolutely gone. SO, the actual answer, is The Covenant over on ffnet. I couldn't find much of what I wanted so I started writing it.

20 - Favorite fic you've written?

Favorite of my own!!? I am surprised how uncomfortable I am answering that... Okay, the thing is, I love my fics. I am so scared to admit that because it feels conceded as fuck but I honestly write what I want to read for the most part. I do go back and reread my own shit. Soooo I'm going to say Pieces of the Moon. It short and sweet and feels like a fairy tale. But the answer would change week to week.

#fanfic writer questionnaire #i'm starting to see how i got to 900k i'm wordy as hell #<3 #dominimoonbeam #wallflower trying to do people things #fanfic

[iamthecomet]

Thinking: SO if water ghouls have tentacle dicks, does Dew still have a tentacle or did it change during his transformation? is it a regular dick now that he had to get used to and is still a bit self conscious about or is it still a tentacle but blackened like his limbs and gill scars, I can't decide which I like more

So, us tentacle lovers all HC different things when it comes to tentacle dicks I think. But personally I usually write the tentacle in addition to other genitals. (Like my tentacle Rain usually has a cunt as well). So when I've HC'd water Dew with a tentacle I usually picture him with tentacle and normal regular dick. As far as what he has after his transition, I've never really settled on something. I'm pretty sure I wrote something about it at some point (a ficlet or just headcanons) where it is just gone. In that line of thinking, he has a scar like his gill scars. I think in that case, it's the thing he misses most about being a water ghoul. BUT, the idea that he still has it and it's....changed? Now that's a thought. Blackened and maybe a little stiffer than it used to be. Maybe he can't grab things as well as he used to, but he can certaintly fuck people with it. Maybe it's more sensitive now (or less). There are so many possibilites with that and I'm going to be rolling them around in my head for a while. Thank you for gifting me with these thoughts!

#comet comments #dewdrop ghoul