#pleasure cruisers

[haxanbroker]

The Thames, London, February 2024.

[scotianostra]

5th March 1953 saw The Maid of the Loch, the last Loch Lomond paddle steamer, lowered into the water.

On this day the historic ship left its Balloch base at 11.25am on its maiden voyage it took 1,000 passengers to Balmaha, Rowardennan, Tarbet, Inversnaid and Ardlui. For 28 years the Maid was known as the ‘heart’ of Loch Lomond, carrying millions of passengers, famous faces included, around the bonnie banks.

Ordered in 1950 by the British Transport Commission from A. & J. Inglis of Pointhouse, Glasgow, she was built and then cut into sections for transportation by rail to Balloch on Loch Lomond.

There she was re-assembled and was launched, almost complete, without ceremony. Her two-cylinder compound diagonal engine was built by Rankin & Blackmore of Greenock. She was painted white overall with green boot-topping, a buff funnel, and had the British Railways lion and wheel crest on her bows. In the 1975 season, her funnel colour was red with a black top. Her mainmast was removed in 1978. A service had first been initiated on Loch Lomond in 1818, and it is believed that this was the first regular passenger steamer service on an inland lake anywhere in the world.

The Maid was the twentieth paddle steamer to have sailed on Loch Lomond. She ran trials on 4 May 1953 and was named at a ceremony on 22 May, prior to a special cruise to Ardlui. The maiden cruise with fare-paying passengers took place on 25 May. Her regular route took her from Balloch to Ardlui with calls in either direction at Balmaha, Rowardennan, Tarbet and Inversnaid. From 1964, Maid of the Loch terminated at Inversnaid following the closure of the pier at Ardlui, though cruises to the Head of the Lake were also operated.

The Caledonian Steam Packet Company took over the ship in 1957, followed in 1969 by the Scottish Transport Group, and in 1970 by William Alexander & Sons - when the British Railways emblem was removed. The Maid fell on hard times as passenger numbers dwindled and the ship was eventually mothballed in 1981.

In 1992, he steamer was acquired by Dumbarton District Council and efforts to save the ship began with volunteer working parties; at the end of 1995, she was transferred to the Maid of the Loch Trust prior to the establishment of the Loch Lomond Steamship Company, a registered charity.

n 1997, her wooden deck was replaced with steel. Her lower hull was painted black, with ref boot-topping, above which the main deck sides and the superstructure remained white, but the funnel was now red with a black top. Following the restoration of the steam-powered slipway at Balloch, she was hauled out of the water in June 2006 (for inspection) for the first time since her withdrawal, as part of her rebuild - the objective of which is to return her to service.

This latest achievement was thanks to a £620,000 funding package from the Heritage Lottery Fund, Scottish Enterprise Dunbartonshire, West Dunbartonshire Council and LLSC. An internal refurbishment of the winch house, creation of a visitor interpretation facility and external landscaping is also planned.

In December 2018, the Scottish Government announced it had awarded a £950,000 capital grant. The Paddle Steamer Preservation Society also confirmed that a grant of £50,000 will still be granted, taking this working package to £1million. Funding will be spent on repairs to the vessel’s hull, creation of an education facility on board, refurbishing the main function suite and overhauling the engines to enable them to turn with steam.

Last year the old lady celebrated her 65th birthday as work continues on the restoration, and those of us in Scotland might recall her hitting the headlines in January this year.

The 65-year-old ship was being taken from the water ahead of restoration work when it slipped its ties and workers had to flee to safety. It was then taken back to its normal berth at Balloch Pier and the operation called off for the day.The Maid was berthed successfully the following day.

It’s a great wee train ride to Balloch from Glesga, and you can hop aboard the Maid of the Loch for free visit its Tea room and grab some souvenirs on board. Visitor displays and DVD shows; children’s activities; majestic steam engine. during the summer season. Work continues on board and you can witness the old steamer on its way to becoming a loch going ship. If you can’t make it check out their Facebook page for all the updates and pics from the past and present. Good luck and happy birthday The Maid of the Loch.

National Historic Ships UK and the Marsh Charitable Trust awarded a prize of £500 to the PS Maid of the Loch's tireless team of hardworking volunteers. It may not sound a lot, but it all goes to the restoration.

Recently the team behind the restoration launched an appeal for new front-of-house volunteers as they prepare for a new visitor season.

The Maid team is looking for "friendly, helpful people who like to tell a great story" to help out at the tourist attraction in Balloch this year.

Volunteers are needed to lend a hand on Saturdays and Sundays from early April until the end of October.

A spokesperson for the Loch Lomond Steamship Company, the charity which is restoring the famous ship, said: "If you can spare at least two weekend days a month from 10.30am until 4pm, then this could be a great new interest for you.

See www.maidoftheloch.org for full event details.

[leftduck9986]

Remember When The Pleasure Cruiser Morbillo Was Headed for Hawaii? The "Error" Fixed With Overdubbing.

Remember when, in Season One Episode Four, Captain Vincent, of the Pleasure Cruiser Morbillo is recording an audio log and his lips are saying, "Hawaii" but is overdubbed with "Havana"?

Portraying Captain Vincent is David Morrissey, and to me it sounds like he had overdubbed his entire part.

That seems a lot of work just to mask one out-of-place word, though perhaps it would have been obvious otherwise?

Sigourney Weaver's "well screw that!" in the film Galaxy Quest went completely unnoticed by me until recently, re-watching as an adult! Her mouth shape is very obvious (and you can guess what word she actually said without having to go watch it).

However, the difference from what was originally spoken in this case, is more subtle.

Dear Diary - ahem, Captain's Log

The dictaphone microphone held close, he is speaking gently, "on the breath" or at half voice, "sotto voce"; his diction all focused at the front - "the tip of the tongue, the teeth, the lips". Mmm, great for ASMR. Would Shakespeare have praised him for speaking the lines trippingly?

Here's the line, "We were sailing south-southwest on course for Havana when we realised-" up close and slowed:

There's no mistaking "Hawaii" with it's three - no, four - open vowel sounds ah-oo-ah-ee; there's no top teeth meeting the inner bottom lip for the "v" of Havana, nor the subtle jaw movements that would have accompanied the syllables.

Sailing SSW for Hawaii or Havana/Habana

If the original line is, "We were sailing south-southwest on course for Hawaii ..." then firstly, the Morbillo may have been travelling down the west coast of the USA, then eventually correcting to south-southwest. Makes sense, especially being in the North Pacific Ocean!!!

In S1E4, Saturday Morning Funtime, Atlantis rose from the sea floor, in the South Atlantic Ocean. Diagonally, A. Whole. Ocean. Away.

That's a great big whopping error to make! Too big.

So, overdubbing with "Havana" changes things ever so slightly, but doesn't completely fix the situation.

Which Havana?

Travelling down the East coast of the USA now, makes sense for changing course south-southwest, headed for Havana CUBA, since Havana in eleven of the United States of America, can all be ruled out, being inland. So can Havana, Turkey.

A total of thirteen places in the world named Havana, and all of them are still too far north for Atlantis.

Just in case, all places spelled Habana are also too far north, or in the case of Habana Philippines or Habana Queensland Australia, are back in the Pacific Ocean.

Nowhere near Atlantis.

How to Draw Attention to Something: Make It Look Like An Error

Why make this particular "error" ? Well if it doesn't have anything to do with the Daily Specials Honolulu Roast sign, I'll eat my ... don't have a hat, not a hat person. I'll have a heaped teaspoon of Vegemite when the time comes.

Why insert errors at all? We humans loooove pointing out errors!

Ingrained from children's television, the Playschool song (whoops I mis-remembered, it was actually Sesame Street!: One of These Things is Not Like the Others then got sidetracked on youtube for a while: Classic Sesame Street 01 | Classic Sesame Street 02 | audio | Grouch Jazz | "Three of These Things Belong Together" | Barbershop parody.)

That's the point, to draw our attention. In Season Two especially there are plenty of errors to find, in the mis-spelling of words, names, the odd writing style of certain letters and numbers...

But here in season one is a potentially placed error, where the audio doesn't quite match the lip-flaps, and to discover this "error" opens up the possibility of there being another overdubbing mis-match to find somewhere.

Thanking @kimberleyjean for checking the Season One Script Book and the TV Companion for any mention of this error. There was none. Nothing at all in the TV Companion about the captain, the ship or Atlantis.

For anyone who owns the Season One DVD: is there anything said in the audio commentaries? Was there a trivia visual overlay?

[pupcuck]

black water - one !

ft. og4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. cop!leon, corruption, mentions of harassment/rape/drugs, body horror, raccoon city incident never happened but there r bioweapons, suicide ideation bc leon, character death, there’s smut in later chapters i promise, public sex, creampie, hate sex, slapping, choking, gore descriptions

note. hi trying something new! i know raccoon city is in the midwest somewhere but to be frank idgaf ab the usa and know nothing about any part of it so i decided that it’s a southern state in this fic bc i wanted to make reader have the cute accent bc she’s a farmer :3 only the first chapter so like um this is honestly just more of a test to see if anyone would like this erm smut comes soon prommy.. reader implied poc but like um :3 PLEASE GIMME FEEDBACK N IGNORE MISTAKES!!

summary. there is something in the water, you want it gone before it eats more than just your livelihood.

You know pigs, so you know men.

This one has blue eyes, it is the type of blue you’d dip your toes into, you let the waves lap at your calves until it drags you under. His gaze taps a gun to the back of your head and demands full attention.

He is subjecting you to himself, and you hate it.

The glint of his blue-gold badge is nebulous in the dark. “Officer Leon S. Kennedy.” He offers you a look at his ID card - has the sort of face that lets him get away with things. “Criminal Investigations Department.”

Beside him, a dog with intelligent eyes stands sentinel. Officer Kennedy drops the leash and the dog sits back on its haunches. “Now, what’s this about pigs?”

The RPD is one great big circle jerk. Brian Iron’s doctrine is an easy one to follow, and Leon is not opposed to easy. His innards spill into the middle of it all as the lump in his throat dislodges, adding to the slurry of toxic waste that coats their blackened underbelly.

There is a horrible liminal quality to the place, footfall echoes in halls lit by jaundiced bulbs. The scent of sex is a wisp of smoke in his nose as he passes the chief’s office.

Raccoon City is a backwater bog, and to match the inhabitants are insular primitive beings who cling to antiquated ways. To be stationed here by choice was a lapse in judgement - snark is the currency of social interaction.

Leon is often taken by women.

He met this one back in Brooklyn, where he and his family lived above a Deli, an older southern lady with a gap in her teeth. Had the pleasure of crossing her path—Something about her just stuck. Led him to believe that all women round these parts had big hearts and even bigger bosoms. A place to rest his head for the night, a neck to hide his face in, blonde curls just shy of silver to tickle his skin flower-pink.

She talked all like:

Well, ain’t you just the sweetest peach I’ve ever seen! Oh, I could just eat a feller like you up, get me full as a tick.

Whatever it was that she said and meant, he liked it. And so guided by the expertise of his dick, Leon landed himself here.

There are a handful of beautiful women that Leon has seen, met, fucked.

(He weeded out the ugly ones the moment he was given access to the file room.)

The thing is, small town beautiful is different to New York pretty.

He has an ex over in Manhattan who could turn the sidewalk into a catwalk. She had Leon, a man built like a god, fumbling like a teenage girl. The last girl he fucked here was homely - she had the hushed urgency of a military wife and her monotony was sobering.

One girl he dated on and off for a year or two. She worked at a car wash and she was needy. Real needy. She missed the taste of his dick so he provided her with the scent of pussy instead. Every weekend he’d drive over and watch her clean the sex from the backseat of his cruiser just because he could.

Things are slow in this marshy cesspit, a never-ending conveyer belt of nothing much. The wind carries the scent of magnolia blossoms and sewage. It gives Leon a lot of time to think of the filth that is his underfurnished life. He lowers his head to the desk, allowing himself to fall in and out of spasms of lucidity.

Leon has done bad things, but he doesn’t qualify as a bad guy. The badge and the blue forbids it. Take Redfield for example, that guy got deployed in Penamstan. Y’know what happened there? He shot a kid or two and now he can’t get it up. He’s not a bad guy, not at all, he’s got a photo of his smiling face plastered in the lobby.

He’s a hero.

The only problem folks have with him is that heroes have nice, hard cocks and they fuck for hours. No matter his sex drive atrophied by gore splattered on the barrel of his gun, or how the studded underside of his boot caused flesh to crumple like the newspaper with his name on it—It doesn’t matter. To be built like a brick shithouse and have something soft between your legs, well, that just ain’t right, is it?

Over in Penamstan, he would say, you introduce yourself over the sound of gunfire, shake hands as the earth is split in half, kill an orphan to bond.

A good man for sure. So good his little sister went ghost.

(Leon finds her postcards in the mailroom. For Redfield’s sake, he hides them in the bottom drawer of his desk alongside all sorts of ephemera. He’s acquired quite the stash.)

Valentine is alright. She’s quiet. The moral fibre has been plucked out of her with a pair of forceps, and now she doesn’t think much about where she points her gun. They often sit in shared silence, and sometimes it is like looking in a funhouse mirror that creates a shape far slinkier than his bulk.

Chambers is too nice. Vickers is fat. Burton is old. Frost is ugly. These are all irrefutable flaws, but none of them are bad, and none of it is intentional. Not bad by Leon’s standards at least.

(The entirety of the STARS unit would be better off if they stopped kissing Captain Wesker’s flat ass, but that is like asking for sympathy from the devil.)

Man, he has too much time on his hands.

“Kennedy, you busy?” Rita knocks on his desk. The fabric of her shirt creases inwards to grasp the dip of her waist as she places a hand on her hip. She’s poised, but something about her gait is wobbly.

“Mighty busy.” He nods.

What they have is not history, but something much smaller. It is a word blotted out on a torn page from a burnt book, it is ground into powder by mortar and pestle.

It is Leon’s hand in her back pocket when nobody’s around.

“I’m sure.” She straightens her spine, eyes heavy with the weight of her lashes. “Up in Black Water, something about a dead pig.”

“They have gators,” Leon points out. He may be bored to the point of suicide, but he is not in the mood to wrangle any gators.

“I know,” she says, lifting her eyes from the ground to meet his sidelong gaze, “go check it out, she sounded real spooked, take a dog if you have to.”

She, huh.

Wonder what she looks like. He hopes she has big tits. He hopes she isn’t a cousin-fucking, peat-smelling hick.

Black Water has a lot of those.

“Took ya long enough.” Your voice skims the air like a bullet, it strikes Leon in the chest.

You are she. And you, well—You’re both the needle and the spoon.

Doused in the lantern glow, the egg-whites of your eyes are streaked by small, bloody streams, your mac is zipped up to the chin, and your rainboots are the same colour of boxed rubber duckies.

You’re no sole-crushed peach, making the ground its canvas in a pitiful splatter, you’re a tart cherry that he would like to pick, melt into a glaze and store in a jar.

“Oh, we’re mighty busy.” Leon wipes Rita’s wet from his fingers on the front of his tailored pants, it’s gotten sticky like pomade. He thinks of her tailbone digging into the flesh of his stomach as he sits her on his lap.

“I bet.” You raise your brows. “How many lines did’ja do?”

Leon leans forward to watch your face with unblinking eyes. “Don’t say that too loud, Wesker’s gonna get worried, y’know, start digging through his stash.”

“Hah.” Your laugh is hidden into the collar of your mac. “He seems like the type.”

“You met him before?” An unpleasant squelch is heard when he steps where you do, it seems deliberate for a moment, that you’re avoiding a well-trodden path to give him a hard time. He stumbles forward in the dark—His shoes are fucked, and these socks deserve a funeral service.

“Think we all have.” Your body is lost in the shapelessness of your attire, clothes draped over your frame like you are more hanger than human. Effortless femininity lost to androgyny. “You’re not from these parts.”

“You don’t look like you’re from these parts, pumpkin pie,” he mocks your twang and is met with a tut.

You stop and Leon bumps into you with a grunt.

He shines his torch at the ground and isn’t quite sure of what he’s looking at. “That’s a pig alright.”

[kaminokatie]

Anakin Skywalker General Dating Headcannons

Synopsis - Anakin Skywalker dating headcannons.

Warnings - SFW & NSFW.

Word Count - 0.8k.

[Caffeinate Me]

SFW:

: ̗̀➛ Let’s be real here, you’re probably going to be Anakin’s (older) padawan.  He’ll take you under his wing after Ahsoka leaves the Jedi Order, seeing tremendous value in your abilities. 

: ̗̀➛ At first, Anakin only sees you as his padawan. But the more time he spends with you, the more he finds himself viewing you in a different light.

: ̗̀➛ Anakin finds himself wanting to train with you more often than he should. He wants to see how far you’ve come since you had started training with him. So, Anakin has you training in your spare time. 

: ̗̀➛ When he’s not around you, Anakin finds himself thinking about you, wanting to make sure you’re okay. That’s when Anakin realises he’s falling in love with you. He’ll comm you often just to speak with you and ‘discuss the mission’ when in reality, he just wants to hear your voice. 

: ̗̀➛ Anakin confesses his feelings to you after you almost die on a mission. The two of you are alone in the med-bay and he pulls you flush to his chest and with tears in his eyes he whispers to you, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I-I’m in love with you.”

: ̗̀➛ You’re shocked. You didn’t think Anakin would ever see you like that, not that you mind, you feel exactly the same way. “I’m okay Anakin,” you whisper in response, pulling away from the sweet embrace. 

: ̗̀➛ Anakin wastes no time in pushing his lips to yours. His lips are soft and warm against your own chapped and dry ones. You sigh into the kiss and automatically kiss back, your eyes fluttering closed as your arms make their way around his neck. 

: ̗̀➛ “I love you,” Anakin whispers into your lips. 

: ̗̀➛ “I love you too Anakin,” you reply, a smile gracing your lips. 

: ̗̀➛ From that day on Anakin never had you leave his side. If he went on a mission, you went on the mission with him. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it. The Jedi Council never dared separate you two again. 

: ̗̀➛ Anakin would pull you into a secluded, dark corner or room and make-out with you both before and after missions or any time he was able to get you alone away from prying eyes. 

: ̗̀➛ The 501st catch on quickly but don’t say anything to either of you. They notice the way Anakin looks at you from across the room, or the way his hand would ‘accidentally’ brush past yours when you were walking.

: ̗̀➛ Anakin stays in your quarters with you, sleeping in your bed and using your shower etc just so he doesn’t have to leave you. 

: ̗̀➛ When the two of you get married, which is quite early on into your relationship,  you swap lightsabers instead of rings as a symbol of your love for each other. Your lightsabers are extremely similar so it wouldn’t be so noticeable, but Anakin was willing to take the risk anyway. 

NSFW:

: ̗̀➛ Anakin loves to have sex with you. It’s his favourite way to show you just how much he loves you. 

: ̗̀➛ His favourite position is missionary. He loves being able to see your face when he fucks you and watches the way your face contorts in pleasure. 

: ̗̀➛ Usually has sex with you in your bed on the Jedi Cruiser where the two of you can’t be interrupted, but isn’t opposed to having a quickie in the Jedi Temple if at all possible. 

: ̗̀➛ Anakin loves sleepy morning sex, it’s probably his favourite. He wakes up pressing against you, cock erect and ready for you. He wakes you up with soft, open-mouthed kisses to your neck and climbs on top of you. You sleepily open your legs and invite him in, eyes fluttering open as you’re greeted with a hungry kiss. 

: ̗̀➛ Anakin loves eating you out and would do it forever if you let him. He loves it when your thighs tighten around his head and you squirm as you cum on his face. Anakin still doesn’t stop eating you when you’ve cum, he likes to draw at least two orgasms from you before he’s ready to fuck you. 

: ̗̀➛ When he’s particularly stressed from missions, Anakin will use sex as an outlet. His hands will wrap around your throat as he fucks you from behind, strangling you softly. You have a safe word for if it gets too much, but it never does. He never pushes past any of your boundaries no matter how pent up he gets. 

: ̗̀➛ Never uses protection. He wants you to get pregnant. 

: ̗̀➛ Anakin uses the force during sex sometimes. He uses it to keep your legs apart or to choke you when things are getting a little S&M. Don’t think you can try to escape him either, if you’re on the brink of an orgasm don’t squirm or he’ll keep you in place with the force as he goes down on you. 

: ̗̀➛ Loves cock warming, especially in the coldness of space. You don’t have to move, just lay there with his cock inside you and fall asleep together. He’ll wake up in the morning still inside you and he realises just how lucky he is to have found somebody like you.

[rthko]

A pervasive logic I see in online queer discourse, or any online discourse really, is "let me select (or invent) an oppressed person who agrees with me and a privileged person who disagrees." This has been apparent in the "sex wars" of the past few years. By the miracle of liberal privilege discourse, the same gut-level revulsions shared by your parents and local politicians can now be reframed as radical critique. Sex is not only gross--it is a trivial issue that only "privileged cis white gays" would care about. Non-normative queer sexuality is in some circles now associated with white gay men with money to burn on travel, party tickets, designer drugs and personal trainers. This image is at most conditionally true. More precisely, it is a testament to the damage wrought by the policing of sexuality and who bears the brunt of it, resulting in their erasure from public life.

I recall in 2020, when no in-person pride events were even occurring, the internet was nevertheless ablaze with arguments about hypothetical gay men violating the eyes of hypothetical spectators with their displays of sexuality. An acquaintance of mine posted: "kink at pride is an example of cis white gays turning what used to be a protest into a party." It's not untrue that many tap into only the fun sides of queerness while ignoring the political. However, this stance that pleasure seekers and rabble-rousers are ruining it for the serious activists comes across more as "Mattachine" than it does "Stonewall." Frankly, I find it more concerning that pride has become an advertising campaign. Despite the identity politics and the framing of "punching up," we know in hindsight that this line of thinking inevitably led to the further persecution of trans people, whose very existence is considered fetishistic. This is a reality that online queers need to grapple with: sometimes punching up trickles down.

Sex discourse was never just about moral "policing" but literal policing, with material consequences. One reason that these conversations have been especially rotten in the past few years is that sex workers have been systemically driven off of the internet and out of public life. No wonder young queers whose only exposure to overt queer sexuality is through this internet may think only "privileged" people participate in it; nothing in their personal lives or real life queer community (if they have one) contradicts this myth. But it is frustrating, to say the least, to see many adopt a self-styled radicalism that is functionally indistinguishable from a gay middle class politics of respectability. As long as the foil of the "bitchy circuit queen" exists, they are more than willing to accept the sex worker or the homeless park cruiser as collateral damage in their crusade against sex. Even before Elon Musk's takeover of Twitter, that app performed a near-daily collective ritual of "can't look away" revulsion at some instance of queer sexuality. Probably still does. Any pretense of "calling out privilege" was set dressing.

[grimesgirll]

alexandria is the break you've been yearning for since shit hit the fan.

an independent walled and gated community is exactly the place to catch your breath. the past eighteen months had been a blur of grit and gore; you deserve to decompress in a pretty house, not that you spent all of your time in your new settlement inside. you made a point to take judith on daily walks.

you're returning from one of your new routine walks to get judith down for her afternoon nap when you find olivia - the neighbor lady who ran the armory and the pantry - on the porch, greeting your name.

“hi,” you reply with a smile, bolstering the cooing baby on your hip. “what do i owe you the pleasure, olivia?”

“i’ve been meaning to get over here ever since shane brought it up to me-,” you pause. “-i wouldn’t mind having another set of hands around the armory at all, especially with the background shane mentioned you had.”

you purse your lips. “thanks. could we talk about this another time? maybe after the weekend? i’ll stop by.” you gesture to the little girl on your hip. “it’s just that i want to get her down now so her routine isn’t all out of whack later tonight.”

olivia nods, glasses bouncing a bit. “of course. come see me whenever you’re ready.”

you’re smiling and thanking her again before crossing the threshold with a huffy chest. it takes patience on your part not to slam the door but with judith in your arms, you slowly close it.

why would shane sign you up to work in the armory? is he stupid? you ponder. he didn’t even ask if you wanted to do something like that. you dismiss the thought the best you can and just focus on getting judith to sleep.

thank god for the blackout curtains jessie had sent over. judith sleeps like the dead with those things drawn.

a little rocking and the dark room do well to help the infant fall asleep in no time. that allows you to meander down the living room and hear the door swinging open.

"babe, we're back.”

you perk your head up when you see shane and rick come through the door. “hey, guys,” you forget to ask them how their day’s been when you see their new uniforms.

you have to pick up your jaw when you see the two men dressed in matching constable’s uniforms. you and shane hadn’t been dating for long when the world went to shit. he’d met you right after work before, even picked you up in the cruiser before but you forgot how strapping he looked in a uniform. brown and form fitting, you’re thanking the constable’s office inventory for stocking such flattering apparel.

you almost forget the frustration you’re harboring - the anger that had boiled, all because of how his ass looked in those brown fucking slacks.

“good to see you,” rick says with the same tone he had back on the side of the road when he helped you step back into your underwear.

“good to see you too,” you repeat, biting your lip.

a smirk appears on shane’s lips once he realizes you’re checking out their asses as you take their coats.

"why don't you head upstairs? we'll be up in a few minutes."

you nearly drop the jackets from your arms. “for what?” you ask, playing dumb.

rick is wordless and shane just smiles at you, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “you’ll see. we’ll see you soon enough.”

the bedroom is your next destination.

you’re tiptoeing up the stairs as not to disrupt nap time. those light treading feet are carrying you straight to the bed where you crumple into the comforter.

long was your day, longer would be your night. this is by virtue of the fact that you’ll have to ask shane about why olivia was about to onboard you to work in alexandria’s armory. and you’ll probably get split in half by an eight inch cock by the end of the night. you decide to put off your conversation with shane when your mind wanders to the newly clean shaven constable downstairs.

god, did he fit those pants wonderfully.

the man had been on your mind ever since this situationship of sorts emerged between the three of you - sans labels. awkward as it seemed, given all of your histories.

and then there’s shane.

don’t get you wrong, shane would give you the world if he could. whatever it would take to keep you nice and happy and purring “yes, shane” at his every word. he goes to greater lengths not just for your safety but for your convenience.

the man who’d circled back on a run after realizing he didn’t bring back your favorite brand of tampons. then again when the tampons be found had cardboard applicators. the one who held you at night in your shared cell back at the prison, kissed you and petted your hair, nuzzling as close as possible and telling you it would be alright. the man who trusted you to take care of his baby girl.

the one who had taken the time to give you not one but multiple masterclasses on firearms, shooting, and gun maintenance. he insisted that you know how to take care of yourself if it ever came down to and it boy, had it come down to it. more than once, you’d found yourself aiming your pistol and being forced to make a split second decision. the same man embraced you and reassured you in the aftermath of your beretta’s rounds claiming your first non-walker kill.

the man who’s about to fuck you into the mattress with his best friend.

you try to hold onto that thought as you shimmy out of the blue levi’s, deserting them on the floor thoughtlessly in search something cozier. digging through shane’s newly filled dresser drawers seems like an easy enough solution.

speak of the devil, he walks in with rick while you’re appraising a pair of gray sweatpants with a georgetown insignia on them.

“thought you had your own sweats.” shane’s behind you in an instant. just like rick, he’d noticed the way your sweatshirt falls to your thighs. “why don’t you just save those for later and let me help you take the rest off, huh?”

a telltale smirk takes over your face. a slant back into shane tells him all he needs to know.

he waits to toss you over his shoulder and situate you on the bed before he's yanking your boy briefs down your legs and brushing your clit with his fat finger. it's only natural that he's chuckling into your skin when you tense beneath him. prodding and playing with your newly awakened nerves, shane still managed to signal rick over to begin a maddening campaign, attacking your flush skin with their lips.

the lips on your that skin feel so deliciously inviting that you disregard how tender they turn you.

of course, shane is the one that can’t stand to wait.

“down you go, pretty girl.”

in an instant, he’s behind you with a finger in your pussy. you want to be upset that he's not still paying attention to the blushed out surface of your body but you’re too preoccupied with the hand in between your shoulder blades, encouraging your forearms down to the mattress. shane’s maintaining his grip on your hips and propping them up to send your ass straight towards the ceiling.

the moment that you feel a warm tongue, licking painfully slowly, and thoroughly towards your center, your hips jerk. shane is already bracing them, cooing, “easy, girl,” into your thigh before continuing the languid assault on your lips.

the lips on your face are pecked, if only briefly, by your boyfriend’s former crimefighting partner. licking your lips, you’re wishing he would circle back to connect your mouths again when a sharp sting interrupts your thoughts.

“fuck!” you cry into the comforter.

the obvious culprit is already testing the skin of your ass with his palm again. another yelp has blue eyes boring down, as if trying to memorize each moment you react - so expressively - to shane’s ministrations.

“what was that for?” you question, rotating your head to stealth a glance at him.

“fun.”

you’re about to tell shane about his idea of fun before a final slap and a sudden return to teasing your core spurs you away from the thought. pressure and heat course through you; shane just raises your internal temperature with a purposeful finger. you're whimpering at just the first stretch. past your throbbing rings of muscle, shane weaves a path with a single finger.

a heaved out moan has shane licking his lips. “gettin’ worked up off my fingers, baby?”

you nod. without a doubt.

another finger continues the mission of prying your tight cunt open for the men that would be taking turns with you until you’d come all over both their cocks. knuckle deep inside of you, the pressure is going to kill you before that third finger does.

“shane,” you’re hissing when he adopts a pace that has you clawing at his two fingers. “why are you being so aggressive with your fingers?”

“weren’t you complainin’ that it was ‘too much,’” he denotes with air quotes, “last time?”

rick seems to give you some breathing room at his friend’s taunt. he slinks back like his massive cock wasn’t the reason you’d been a sobbing mess in cowgirl on top of him the night before your group had reached noah’s old community in richmond.

you’d come so pornographically hard around him that you swear it’d been in your top five orgasms. but your cervix was still shot.

rick felt guilty. so guilty that he hasn’t fucked you since. only your mouth. of course he treated you to his mouth, his perfect tongue and his hands but you crave him inside of you. the thought of it with shane’s two pronged touch has you nearly grinding up the bed.

“fuck, shane,” you’re mumbling into the comforter, fists clenching when another finger worms into you.

“you ‘bout ready, baby?” shane asks, placing a strategic stripe down your clit as he fully buries his middle three fingers in you.

“mhmm.”

“wanna ask?”

a steady sentence isn’t going to come out of your mouth with how shane’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “please,” you sputter when he entrenches his fingers deeper inside of you.

“what was that?” the condescension in his voice has you squelching around his fast moving fingers.

you’re blushing at rick who has a hand on his cock and is staring straight into your teary eyes. “i want you to fuck me now, shane.” you don’t break eye contact with rick. “please.”

another smack lands on your reddening backside and suddenly those pleasure granting fingers are digging into your hip and you feel shane’s girth at your entrance.

“what do you want, baby?” shane asks. “you want me to fill you up?”

“yes, i want it so bad,” you’re begging through pouted lips.

rick doesn’t miss your doe eyes or how you moan shane’s name as he fulfills your fucked out request and fills you. even someone in the hallway can hear the wet sound from shane teasing your leaking cunt.

a few experimental strokes and shane is already balls deep. he didn’t heed the same new code of chivalry rick had adopted upon finding a hint of blood on the tip of his dick. that experience made you want to pull your hair out. stupid fucking cervix, you’d thought, ruining me getting fucked. rick didn’t usually treat you to such a pounding but the road did that to one. besides, he was freshly addicted to your cunt.

the electric feeling from how he’d taken you with shane that first time reignite as your boyfriend adjusts himself to brush against your g-spot. the fucked out look on your face can’t be missed as you let shane shovel his hips into you and closer to the only finish line you’d ever had no problem crossing. just like rick had plowed you into the mattress of the barracks you’d all stayed at in norfolk.

these thoughts of rick can’t escape you - even with shane groaning your name. the swats to your ass just go straight to your cunt and do little to rouse you from your daydreaming about the man lining himself up with your mouth.

yeah, you’re out of your mind already and he doesn’t even have his dick inside of you again.

“so good for me, baby,” shane’s gasping, his hand sliding down your ass to brace your thigh and fuck you deeper. “so good for us.”

rick nods, fingers pushing your hair out of your face and letting you take your time with him in your mouth. you hollow your cheeks and rock forward with shane when he cants into you. he’s gazing down at you as if this is the prettiest he’s ever seen you.

you could keep your eyes on him forever if it weren’t for the orgasm searing through you. it’d built up as you backed into shane and imagined how full rick would have you feeling - how connected, how close you’d feel with him inside of you.

“should’ve knocked you up back at the farm.”

god, that would’ve been inconvenient. you just focus on the pleasure you’re receiving and how you’re in alexandria with two men amazingly attractive men. it’s not the time but then again, shane doesn’t give you much of a choice with how revved up this whole coming in you business seems to be getting him. you can’t lie; it’s affecting you too.

so much that you’re nearly protesting when rick withdraws his twitching cock from between your lush lips, less than when shane pulls out of you. you won’t be protesting about what comes next though.

the first time rick had fucked your pussy you’d been whining, and you’re doing the same thing now.

“you wanna get on top?” shane questions, requiring you to repeat yourself before rick leans against the headboard.

still snickering at the whine that came out of you, your boyfriend helps to lift you and lower your hips onto rick who’s sprawled on his back, bronzed curls against the propped up pillow. rick hisses when his tip makes contact with your drowning heat again.

shane doesn’t waste any time. his hands are off you so he can situate himself on the bed to accommodate the best view of you two.

unfortunately, you’re not in shane’s lap so rick has him beat for the best seat in the house. or do you hold that seat?

your boyfriend hadn’t seemed too worried about you sliding too far down onto rick but rick was. his hands are firm on your hips - holding them in a semi-permanent place, only maneuvering for you as you rotate your hips down onto him.

“rick,” you rasp, wrapping your arms around his neck. you want to hear more from him so badly - to hear him panting your name. that’s your goal when you hurry your hips against him. you can tell that he’s hesitating, holding you back at first until you wiggle enough for him to allow you to break free.

grinding onto him, you watch a puffed out series of breaths escape his mouth. not missing a beat, you reposition your hips to sink deeper, hissing with rick and leaning into him. that’s when your clit begins to explode with pleasure from the friction.

“fuck,” you’re chanting. “fuck, that’s good. feels so good. fuck. fuck, that’s perfect.”

“dirty girl.” shane is teasing.

“just feels so fuckin’ good,” you’re twisting on top of rick, angling yourself against his pulsing member to stimulate all the perfect parts of your pelvis.

“is rick fucking you good, honey?”

you nod, having been given full license to be honest about how rick is making you gush.

“how good?” shane asks, hazel eyes on you while you ride rick.

your lip quivers. you feel rick thrum inside of you. “soooo good.” you’re saying in the lust addled way only you would. “you both make me feel so on.”

shane’s cock jumps and rick is picking up the pace. whatever motion your clit’s endured against rick is nothing once he crescents his fingertips into your sides. nice and deep, rick is threatening your cervix again but you don’t need to worry because he’s just taking the scenic route to your g-spot.

the same spot that’s making your toes curl and you chant for rick. “i’m close again,” you warn him. your head is falling onto his shoulder, blocking shane from view.

“you’ve got it, almost there, sweetheart,” rick rumbles into your ear.

his now gravelly voice against your ear has your cunt tightening. teeth pressed into your shoulder, you yelp and moan when rick brushes the flesh of your skin with his teeth. the purple marks being sown onto you will bloom later on but you don’t mind. not when your legs are shaking and you’re whimpering, “god, rick, you make me feel so fucking good.”

and suddenly you’re being fucked through your orgasm face down.

“so jessie cut your hair?”

rick nods and you’re hyper aware of how short his hair is. he’s so polished too. not that it’s terribly difficult to be after traveling on the road for so long.

“i liked your long hair. you should grow it out again.”

the new constable raises an eyebrow, leaning up on his forearms to sit up. “gotta’ shape up at some point.”

you would argue but shane’s distracting you with kisses to your shoulders and promises of morning sex already. you’re not distracted enough to miss rick’s weight absent from the pliable surface.

rick rises from the bed and you whine.

“i want rick to stay.”

shane scoffs. he extends his brawny arms across the bed. “baby, there’s barely enough room in the bed for the two of us.”

you shake your head, sitting up on your knees. “i think we can make it work. please,” you take a breath. “i just feel safer with you two in bed.”

“honey, there’s no room.”

“okay, i’ll just sleep on top of him then.”

you end up basically on top of rick - not that he minds. the night is spent with cuddled up into his chest; shane cupping the occasional hand around the curve of your ass.

weirdly, you’re falling asleep in no time. the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulls you. sleeping on top of rick might have to become a part of your bedtime routine.

shane wants you to pull a hostile takeover of the armory.

you stand with your arms crossed, giving the man one of your signature frowns. "why would i want to keep an eye on olivia in the armory?"

shane looks at you as if it's obvious. "it's good to have a hand on things," he explains, sighing your name. "it's good to have someone on the inside, in case..."

"-in case what?" you question.

shane stares at his feet.

you smolder. "you seriously can't be expecting to have to seize their guns, shane. we just got here for christ's sake."

"it's not even like that, baby," shane says, trying to walk back his conspiracy plots from you. “i just would feel better having you there. besides, it’s not like it’d be all the time and you could learn more about gun storage, whatever you want now

“that doesn’t sound like whatever i want, it sounds like you’re shoving me in the armory.”

“baby, you don’t have to do anything, i’m just sayin’-,”

“i’ll work in the armory if you stop giving me shit about going hunting.”

shane frowns af you. “now, you know that’s different.”

you cross your arms. “it’s not. i need a change of scenery, maybe some greenery to be specific.”

shane presses a flexed hand against the wainscoting he’s leaned up against. he shakes his head. “maybe once we know things are stable here, but for right now these people are far less capable than we are. i’d feel better with you in the armory.”

you want to ask him to consider what you want for a change. you honestly want to tell him to go fuck himself but then you remember.

ah, the thing that you want. the man that you want. the man you can only have with shane’s smirking approval.

so you just smile, walk over and take him by surprise, planting a kiss on cheek and telling him you’ll start tomorrow. it’ll all pay off in the long run.

the welcome party is a success.

if not for the fact that shane didn’t kill spencer just for saying hello to you, then for the fact that you got trashed.

so trashed that rick had ended up hauling your ass home when you hurled in one of deanna’s planters and shane was too embroiled in a push-up contest with abraham to even think about heading home. not that shane had ended up any better. the man drank so much johnny walker that even he came home and passed out face first in the bed bedside you.

you’re hungover the next morning, so hungover that rick moved you out of shane’s bed and into his to hang off the edge and puke your guts up.

rick even roped carol into coming over to cook and watch judith while you and shane recovered.

he even brings you soup.

“damn, look who’s still out of it.”

seems shane had recovered.

“she drinks like she’s still in kappa delta.”

rick rubs a circle or two into your back. “what’d you say? you won’t puke all over your bed, will ya’?”

when you’re well enough, you patter downstairs

“you’re looking better.”

“thanks, carol,” you return her jab with a wry smile.

“so,” the gray haired woman braces her hands on the picnic table at the base of the orchard. “are you going to help me with these apricots are what?” your gaze falls from the woman to her basket and circles back to the trees overhead. “the apricots came in early here. what do you think of apricots in march?”

you shrug. “i really don’t know much about fruits,” you admit as you take the chestnut colored basket into your hand.

it’s so odd seeing carol in her little pseudo-mr. rogers act, costume and all. the cardigan and capris paint a picture of the picture homemaker - a real martha stewart type.

and one of the most tactful, five steps ahead of you types that you’d ever met.

you wonder if this carol had laid dormant for some years.

the two of you work through the trees, plucking the precious fruit that was ready for harvest and leaving the rest.

“so, you having fun playing house?”

your mouth gapes open. you nearly drop your basket and waste quite a lot of apricots.

carol snorts at you. “i’m just kidding.” she sends you a look like you’re incredulous or something. “do what you want.” you pluck an apricot from the tree before you. gossamer head tilting when your apricot picking partner speaks again. “but just keep your priorities straight.”

you stiffen. that’s not what you were expecting. maybe some more sage or cunning advice is what you thought would be coming out of her mouth. priorities? you don’t wanna think about them. the priorities that you’ve been saddled with.

you moan someone about your hangover and muddle through the rest of your apricot picking, trying to keep your mind from defining your priorities.

the two of you part when at the sidewalk in front of your porch, with her last words to you being:

“you be careful.”

“gonna have to go out and find a king sized bed if rick’s gonna be stayin’ over this often.” shane comments and rolls onto his side to face you.

you shrug. “i’m fine with the arrangement the way it is.”

“yeah? sleeping on top of rick?”

you continue brushing your hair. “beds are hard to come by, especially great gigantic sized beds.”

“i’m sure there’s a king somewhere.”

“yeah.”

shane’s eyes don’t leave you as you set your hairbrush down on the vanity and tie it back. he’s even closer once you settle into your spot on the mattress. arms clutch you into him and lazy patterns begin to materialize on your skin, from massages into the nap of your neck to a dull squeeze of your ass. it makes you feel easy - subdued almost by shane’s unhurried touch. but you’re still wound up. you don’t know how you can be anything else nowadays.

"night, baby," shane mumbles into your ear.

"night." you reply, eyes focused on the single beam of moonlight tumbling through the window.

with rick down the hall, you won’t be sleeping tonight.

[iateyourfav]

Shhhh

After you were approached by a reg, Tech feels the need to demonstrate his superiority.

! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

Tech x Reader

Tags: nsfw, established relationship, afab reader, no pronouns used/gender neutral reader, jealous tech

CW: porn without plot, oral sex (f receiving), semi-public sex, breathplay if you squint

Words: 932

Read on ao3

This wasn‘t a position you could say you found yourself in often, spread open on a crate in a supply closet somewhere on a Jedi cruiser with Techs head busy between your legs, your clothes scattered on the floor. 

You found yourself here after a reg got a little too close to you for Techs liking. He didn’t blame you, of course, but he needed to reassure himself that while other people may be able to make you smile as well, he was the only one who could make you produce the sound you made right now.

And the place where he did this, in the said supply closet, was chosen with strategy as well. Of course, for a more private setting he could‘ve taken you on the Marauder, seeing as it was deserted from its usual inhabitants right now, as they were all somewhere around the Jedi cruiser they landed on to stock up supplies. 

He chose this closet in particular exactly for its lack of privacy. Not only was he fully aware that every person that walked by was able to hear what was going on inside this closet, he also made sure that that reg who tried to woo you was able to see you getting dragged in here by him. He used your inability to keep quiet during sex to his full advantage.

“Mhmm fuck.“ you threw your hand over your mouth, trying to shut yourself up, unsuccessfully so. Tech was getting sloppy, seeing as you were starting to tense up and shake more and more every second he spent buried with his face between your legs. He detached for just a second to tell you to „Relax.“ while his hands left your thighs. One hand began to push your pelvis back onto the crate while the other started rubbing your clit.

You moaned in a mixture of pleasure and frustration. This made Tech speak up again: “If you want to climax, you will have to quiet down, or else we will be caught before you manage to cum.” he threatened. “I’m trying.” you managed to push out, but not without another moan following right after.

His face retreated from your pussy. His hand moved from your hip to up to your face, covering your mouth to stop your moans; his other hand still playing with your clit, making your back arch once again, your cries now muffled against his hand. He didn’t particularly do this because he wanted to shut you up and you knew that. It gave him a sense of power and control; and the ability to play with you even more. You felt yourself getting close, though you needed more contact to reach your high fully. 

“More” you tried to communicate, but your request was barely audible seeing as your lips were still fully covered by Tech's large hands. “You will have to speak up, I am unable to fulfill your request if I can't understand what you are saying.” he responded. From the tone of his voice you could tell that he very clearly understood what you asked for. 

You groaned in frustration, repeating yourself: “More!” you tried a little louder this time. It still sounded like gibberish, but Tech granted you mercy, knowing that if you asked again, any louder, people walking by would definitely be able to hear your begging.

That’s when he removed the hand working your clit from you, at least momentarily. “You will have to stay as quiet as possible, or you won’t be able to finish.” he stated, before diving his head between your legs once again, forcing him to retreat his hand from your lips in the process. 

His right hand landed back on your clit, rubbing circles while he pushed his tongue into you, lapping up every drop of arousal he possibly could, while his left hand tried to push your thighs further apart, as they seemed to try to crush his head.

You bit your lip, trying to hold in your lewd noises as you climbed closer and closer to your peak. Tech removed his right hand from your clit, wrapping both arms around your thighs now, his head moving slightly, pressing his face fully into you with his nose now stimulating the sensitive bundle of nerves while he kept eating you out like you were the first meal served to him after weeks of starvation.

With his hands now focused on pulling you closer, instead of pushing your legs apart, your thighs pressed against the sides of his head, catching his goggles between them, slightly shifting them off his eyes. Though he barely cared about his ability to see at this moment, this movement still caught his attention and made him look you straight in the eyes, mouth and nose still hard at work.

This sealed your fate. You came hard, back once again arching off the crate, head and eyes rolled back in ecstasy. You couldn’t stop your moans and cries, even if you wanted to. He helped you ride out your high by staying pressed against your pussy, eyes still locked on you, studying your physical reaction to his stimulation.

After calming down, you lifted yourself up on your elbows, severely out of breath, looking up at Tech who was now standing between your legs, offering your clothes to you that he picked off the floor while you recovered. 

“You may not have managed to stay as quiet as I ordered you to, but at least the regs walking by may now have learned not to try their luck with you.”

[marlynnofmany]

Stabby the One and Only

“Oh no, there are more of you,” Zhee said drily.

I grinned. “Zhee, this is Captain Parker of the good ship Hold My Beer.”

“A pleasure,” said Captain Parker, smiling with bright teeth in a dark face. A twitch of his arm said he’d been about to go for a handshake, then fully noticed Zhee’s pincher arms. He bowed instead.

“Yes, good greetings,” Zhee said, bending his front legs briefly to lower his eye level in a similar bow. “Is your ship all humans, or do you have someone else to keep you in line? With a name like that, I have my guesses.”

“All human!” Captain Parker said. “We’re just stopping by for fuel on our way to Basal Station.” He waved back towards the sporty silver cruiser that was easily the classiest thing at this out-of-the-way spaceport.

“Oh hey, us too!” I told him. “Our ship is the little lemon-looking dealie over there.”

“Nice, nice,” he said once he’d spotted it. “Solar sails, always a classic. What species’ model is that? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

“Uh, Strongarm?” I guessed with a look to Zhee. “Right? It’s the same as Kamm’s ship, and seemed like a family thing.”

Zhee tipped his head at what would be an extreme angle on a human. “Who can keep track?” he said. “It is fuel-efficient and spacious enough, and that is all that matters.”

“We’re doing courier work,” I told Captain Parker. “Delivering some art right now for a big to-do on Basal.”

“We’re headed to our own to-do,” he said with pride. “In the sports sector.”

“Oh cool, what sport?”

He was about to tell me when a lumpy golden monstrosity of a warship roared to the ground, barely clearing the other nearby ships. Repulsor engines blasted a gust of wind that threw spaceport grit into everyone’s eyes and nearly bowled over those standing too close. That included a handful of humans carrying supplies onto their own ship, every one of whom yelled about it.

The ship was silent for a moment, long enough for two of the humans to run over to their captain, and for many other bystanders to cast disapproving looks. That sort of landing seemed deliberately rude. Had they meant it that way?

Oh yeah, they had.

“HUMANS!” bellowed a voice from the ship’s speakers. “Hand over your mascot. You have one chance before we open fire from orbit.” Various gunports flashed weaponry.

Bystanders panicked and ran, some for ships and some for the nearby buildings. No security forces emerged, because this little port wasn’t up to dealing with that degree of threat. The golden ship had picked a smart place for a shakedown.

Paint raced out of a building to wave us toward our ship, worried and fidgety in a blur of orange scales. “Let’s go!” she urged.

I was about to object that we hadn’t gotten fuel yet when Captain Parker shouted back. “What mascot do you mean?”

“Don’t play games, human,” the loudspeaker replied. “Your stabbing droid. Bring it out now.”

“Oh, that mascot,” said Captain Parker with deceptive calm. “Just a minute.” He huddled with the pair who’d come to see him.

Paint tugged at my arm, but I dragged my feet, wanting to know their answer.

The huddle separated. “Okay, you can have him,” Captain Parker yelled. “But come out and get him yourself, you cowards.”

Zhee hissed behind me and Paint squeaked. Angry growls sounded over the loudspeaker, then a hatch opened to admit a half-dozen pissed off dinosaurs.

Not dinosaurs, I thought. Armorlites. Bipedal, toothy, and widely known for not playing well with others. Their entire culture seemed to revolve around strength and superiority. I couldn’t think of a time when I’d seen one NOT act like a bully.

They also called themselves The Mighty, but no one else did. “Armorlite” was the best they were going to get, a reference to the thin scales that did nothing to protect the muscles they were so proud of.

“Hand it over!” bellowed the tall one in front, aiming a gun across the spaceport at Captain Parker.

“Yeah yeah, just a second,” he replied, the very picture of calm and collected. He waved toward his own ship. Someone appeared at the hatch, carrying an inert cleaning droid with a knife strapped to it. “Let me just say goodbye to him.”

Paint stopped pulling abruptly. “Wait, is that the one all the stories are about?” she asked. “That is an icon! A treasure to your people! And they’re just going to give it away?”

“Hang on,” I whispered. “I think he’s got a plan.”

Captain Parker was making a show of it, saluting dramatically and declaring at length what an honor it had been to travel with such a legend. The woman holding the legend in question stood ramrod-straight, and turned to make the delivery with all solemnity. Other humans lined up in front of their ship to salute. A wordless but inspiring song was suddenly playing on the loudspeakers. It was an over-the-top production.

And the Armorlites were loving it. They swaggered forward to accept their prize, with the leader handing his gun to an underling so he could snatch the droid from the human, who retreated in silence.

“Take good care of him,” Captain Parker said in a strained voice. “Make sure you keep his battery charged.”

The Armorlite held his prize up and sneered at the human, launching into a description of everything he was going to do with the precious human mascot. None of it was good.

“…Peel off another section of its casing each day!” he raved. “All will fear The Mighty, who have claimed Stabby the Roomba for their own!”

They weren’t looking at the human ship, but I sure was. The saluting crew all stepped to the side as a whole fleet of cleaning droids trundled down the ramp, silent under cover of the music. Each one wore a knife in stabbing position: right at ankle height.

Armorlite ankle scales are especially weak.

The first Armorlite to get shanked made a squeal of surprise, flailing with his gun rather than shooting it. The others didn’t react quickly enough to avoid the same fate: they looked to their companion’s face for answers, only to be attacked from below. The leader avoided it the longest, dodging to the side and yelling at his crew to fight back, but the droids had circled around him, and it was only a matter of time.

Just as he bellowed in pain, a precision laser unfolded from the human ship and zapped each gun in turn.

The leader dropped the Roomba to crack loudly on the pavement.

He snarled down at it, at the menacing droids, at the humans, and at the laser aimed at his head. Then he pushed past his underlings to limp back to the ship, a fleet of droids in slow pursuit. The Armorlites all made it onboard and shut the door. In moments, the captain was shouting from the loudspeaker about his plans to rain destruction from above. The ship blasted skyward with another gust of hot air.

I opened my eyes once the dust cloud was past to see Captain Parker still standing there. “Aren’t you going to stop him?” I asked, worried.

“Already did,” he told me. “Jenkins snuck Stabby’s cousin Blasty onboard when they weren’t looking. Told him to find the engine room.”

A muffled explosion sounded from the upper atmosphere. I looked up to see the golden ship veering sideways, trailing smoke.

Captain Parker saluted. “Farewell, Blasty Number Thirty-Two. You went out like a champ.” He stepped forward to pick up the cracked droid while the Armorlite ship disappeared across the horizon, not managing to fire a single weapon.

Paint and Zhee moved closer. “Your poor mascot,” Paint said. “Can it be repaired?”

“What, this?” Captain Parker asked. “This doesn’t even have a battery. It’s just spare parts.”

“Oh!” Paint said, perking up.

Zhee cocked his head. “Do you have the real one, or were they wrong about that?”

Captain Parker waved a hand at the fleet of droids that were currently getting rounded up by his crew. “We have LOTS of real ones! We’re on our way to the droid jousting league championships.”

I laughed. “Did they hear some of that and think you had the Single One And Only Human Mascot Stabby?”

“Yup! Sure looks that way.”

Paint was amazed. “I didn’t know there were so many!”

Zhee angled his pinchers in exasperation. “Of course there’s not just one. That’s expecting too much sanity and good sense from humans in general.”

“To be fair,” I said, “I don’t think there was ever just one. Sure, the famous one may have had more adventures than most, but the jury’s out on how many of those adventures were even the same Stabby.”

Captain Parker nodded. “And what fun is good sense?”

“Exactly!” I said.

Zhee stuck his bug eyes up close to my face. “No, you can’t have one.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest it!” I said, grinning at the frowny-eyebrow slant of his antennae.

“Oh here, how about this?” Captain Parker dug something from his pocket and handed it to me. “The knife is rubber. We make ‘em for the kids; that’s our team logo.”

“I love it,” I told him, gazing at the palm-sized minidroid with the red chili pepper sticker.

“That had better not end up in my quarters,” Zhee declared while Paint got a good look at it. “I promise nothing in regards to stepping on it.”

“Yes, yes,” I said. “You have so many legs; how could you possibly keep track of them all?”

Zhee made a disparaging noise and clicked off toward the ship.

“Well, I should be going,” Captain Parker said as someone called for him. “See you at Basal Station, maybe!”

“Yeah, maybe!” I said. We waved our goodbyes as he rejoined his crew.

Paint was thinking hard as we turned to follow Zhee. “Do you think Captain Sunlight would be okay with a detour after we make our delivery?” she asked. “I want to see what that championship looks like.”

“It can’t hurt to ask!” I said, holding up my new minidroid. “Just don’t tell Zhee. At least not until she says yes.”

~~~

The ongoing adventures in backstory for this book. More to come!

[dollwritesarchive]

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 & 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 — 𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!lantern!reader, rough sex, dubcon in the beginning, suggested age gap ( undefined but hal is significantly older ), sir kink, improper use of constructs, pet names ( little girl, baby girl, sweetheart ), hal is a condescending asshole, very light impact play ( face slapping ), brief knife kink mention, size kink, slight pain kink, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ requested by my bestiest maguroni. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

this should’ve been a dream come true.

your very first, official mission with Honor Guard, legend, and your personal role model— Hal fucking Jordan. after all, he was the reason you worked so hard to become a lantern yourself, and protect your very own sector of the universe. he was a living, breathing interuniversal hero, and that was unheard of for a human. you wanted to be just like him.

out of all the cadets freshly trained, you were hand picked to tag along. to follow his every order, and to learn from the best.

and you’d fucked it up in a major way.

you were only trying to help, and thought that you made the right call by abandoning your post to chase the culprit— until you realized it was a fluke. and the prisoner had slipped by your perimeter as easy as could be while you were chasing your wild goose.

needless to say, your Honor Guard supervisor had been pissed, and tore into you right there, civilians watching and all. he’d gripped your face when you’d attempted to stare at your feet and wrenched it back up towards him, hollowing your cheeks with how much pressure he’d applied as he leaned close to hiss in your face. “Don’t ever disobey my orders again, rookie. I say jump, you jump. I say sit pretty, you sit pretty. You got me?”

your eyes were wide— he didn’t yell like Kilowog who’d trained you, but growled, threatened with dilated pupils and furrowed brows. “Yes sir.” it was all you could muster: a pathetic and humiliated whisper. you could feel everyone staring, and you wanted desperately to disappear.

“Get in the cruiser.” he’d murmured, clenching his teeth. you glanced to the vessel waiting. it was sleek and only required one to man it. it had been designed specifically for this mission, for you and Hal and the prisoner. you nod, obedient, and expecting some form of punishment awaiting your arrival back on Oa. however, Hal adds, gruffly, as he gives you a subtle shove when he releases your face. “Your ass is mine.”

“What did I say, huh?” Hal barks, the emerald specters flowing from the ring on his finger, branching off into a multitude of massive hands, all grabbing at you, pinning you to the control panel of the oh-so-shiny, brand new intergalactic cruiser. “I told you that your punishment for insubordination would be severe, didn’t I?”

“Y—yes sir.” it was hard to think about anything other than how he’d managed to wrap you up in constructs, glowing green fists that cinch your wrists together above your head, coils of them that spread your legs, the glowing blade that’d sliced your suit to shreds, exposing most of your body to him. you couldn’t even concentrate to fight back, and knew better than to try, anyways. your head lolls back, eyes tracing along your bound wrists, nervously gripping at them.

“Look here, little girl.” Hal demands, and your attention snaps back to your superior before you. he’d finished his cock from his suit, and now pumped it to life, and you stare with widened, awe-filled eyes as it swells. he was big and strong, the tip swelling right beneath his thumb as he teases his own slit with a grunt of pleasure, one hand gripping himself at the base as he takes one step closer to you, and then another, until he stands in the gap provided by your split thighs.

there’s a faint bubbling in your belly, an urge nestling deep inside you, just as you take in the full visage of Hal; the thickness, the bulging vein that spiderwebs the underside of his shaft, and the broad head that you could imagine would force a cry from your lips if he speared into you. you can’t help how wet it made you. “S—sir…”

Hal tilts his head, jutting his hips to drape his length over your belly, to emphasize just how much bigger he was than you— how deep he would go. it made your head swim. by the looks of it, he would never fit. “Oh yeah, I’m definitely going to ruin your pretty, little pussy.” he smirks, as if replying to the disbelief in your mind and written all over your face.

“I’ll never disobey your orders again, sir.” you breathed out, chest heaving with anxiety ( or, was it anticipation ? ). “I’m sorry…”

but Hal quirked a brow, running one hand up the length of your body, he made sure to give your tender breast a hard squeeze before caressing your cheek, taunting you by running the pad of his thumb over your trembling bottom lip. “Oh, it’s much too late for that, little girl,” he croons, pushing his thumb between the threshold of your lips. he hooks it against the corner of your mouth to keep it anchored there. “You’re gonna take your punishment like a good girl, and then you’re going to know exactly what happens to insubordinate whores.”

the hand holding himself on your belly has, instead, directed his herculean cock to your exposed, slick sex. but, he didn't plunge right in. Hal takes his time, using the bulbous, pink tip to spread your netherlips, running it up and down, gathering your essence over it. “You’re fucking dripping.” he hums, but it’s guttural as he tries to muffle his primal snorting. you can still see it, though, in the way his massive chest rises and falls. “I think you like my punishments.” his eyes, which had been admiring just how he can split you open, and how each time he’s blessed with a flash of your hole clenching on air, just begging to be stretched. “Want me to stuff you?”

you wished you could hide your face, because your body was already agreeing— back arching whenever the head of his cock bumped your sensitive clit, squirming and soaking him with slick, you didn’t need it to be anymore obvious, but your face would give you away yet again. big eyes, lips trembling and forced open by his thumb, you slur against it, looking down at where your bodies were meant to join. “It… it’s too big… that won’t fit inside me.” you say, incredulous.

but you can tell Hal wants to chuckle, and maybe if he wasn’t so angry, he would’ve. the corner of his lip twitched, threatening to etch into a wickedly dashing smirk, but he stops it. he simply says two words.

”Let’s see.”

and forced his way inside.

you cry out with your head thrown back, for once straining against the constructs that held you down. your body wasn’t meant to stretch as much as it had to accommodate his size. your walls spasm around the girthy intruder, clamping down, and Hal releases a bestial groan. “Fuck,” he mutters, and pushes his thumb against the flesh of your cheek, “you’re right, I am too big for you, aren’t I?” you can’t even think straight enough to nod, but it didn’t matter. it didn’t stop Hal from falling into a hard, deep rhythm. with each, powerful snap of his hips against yours, he fills you to his hilt. “Doesn’t matter to me, sweetheart, I’ll stretch your little pussy out until I fit right. I don’t care if I gotta pound it out over and over again. You’re mine, anyways, until we reach Oa.” oh fuck, you’d forgotten exactly how long the trip back to HQ was. it felt like weeks, but it was hard to tell for sure. no day or night, just the inside of the ship.

a knot forms in the pit of your gut; would he really keep you twisted up and spread open like this, right here on the control panel? would you be so easily accessible that all he would have to do is reach over and he could fondle you? the whole trip back?

with the power behind his thrusts, and the way the head rammed deep, it was clear that you weren’t meant to be the one enjoying this. he’d gone beyond any of your sweet spots, and instead jabbed relentlessly at the edge of your cervix. he was fucking you the way that he wanted, even if he thought you wouldn’t like it. it even hurt, each time, taking so much more than you were designed for, but you couldn’t help but moan out loud. it still felt good, no matter how much you knew it wasn’t supposed to. his girth plowed through your canal, and you squeal for him to please be gentle, but you don’t mean it. not really. it feels too good to look up at this titan of a man, and watch him decimate you. watch him use you.

it made you so fucking wet that, when he dives in this time, you squelch in response, and Hal moans louder, grabbing a fistful of your hair with one hand, whilst the other grabs your face and forces your chin into your chest. you sounded sloppy, and he liked it. “Come on, baby girl, go ahead and watch me destroy that pussy. ‘S what you deserve, after all. A good, hard fucking to remind you who the fuck’s in charge here.” you mewl pathetically, staring down the length of your belly. your emerald suit was merely a chunk of threads against your ribs, your breasts spilling out the gash at the neckline and the entire crotch ripped out. you could see his shape and size, the imprint of it, bulging against your stomach with every thrust, and your hands ball into tight fists. but you stare, and whine, and come undone without so much as a warning from your body. it was almost as if you were so overloaded with sensation that you just snapped. your orgasm wasn’t big the first time, but you were now twice as sensitive. each thrust feels like it has double the power and malicious intent behind it, now. Hal seems to like it, too, because he smooths his palm over your heated cheek before planting a rough smack against it. “Takin’ orders just fine now, aren’t you, little girl?” the slap temporarily stuns you, or maybe it’s the orgasm that was wracking you, but Hal brings you back with another thwack against your cheek. “All I had to do was shove my dick in you and you’re ready to comply now? You wanna be your Honor Guard’s good, little fucksleeve?”

it stings, a lot. and your eyes widen again, flickering up to watch his face— offended, but incredibly turned on. he hit you. twice.

“The answer is ‘yes sir’.” he threatens between hot puffs of strangled air, his rhythm never even faltering. but he was glaring at you, palm rubbing the pain of the slaps into your cheek, as if reminding you that he can do it again if he wanted to.

“Yes s—sir!” you squeak.

another slap.

you whimper and flinch, and try to turn away from it, but his grip on your hair is too tight to escape. you had to take it, whether you liked it or not.

the worst part was: you fucking loved it. it twisted your guts into knots when he hit you, coupled with how ferociously he was rutting into your body, you were only moments from cumming. again.

“And you’re gonna do whatever the fuck I say from now on?”

“Y—yes sir!”

“Damn right,” Hal grinds his teeth, yanking on your hair harder, but his other hand travels down to knead your breast and pinch at your nipple. he can feel when you unravel for a second time, this time your climax has you spasming and babbling, fingernails digging into your own palm.

“C—cumming,” you whimper, helplessly thrashing, “I’m cumming aga— again!” it was a cry for mercy, mostly. in shock that your body could even function after the first one, but this one was strong and, seemed to be, never ending. wave after wave of torturous pleasure washes over you, and Hal refuses to ease up. he’d so much rather force you to ride it out, and before you knew it, your legs were trembling. your eyes could hardly stay open, and you couldn’t think. “P—please, sir,” you were gasping, punctuating each, violent thrust with a syllable, “p—please c—cum, I— I need… r— rest…”

you knew he must want to. he was throbbing inside you, moaning, breathing ragged, and his jaw was sewn tight. but he only scoffs. “You’re done when I say you’re done. This is your punishment, remember?” he spat, and the constructs melted away, freeing your arms and legs. the only problem was that you were now too spent to move, so you could do little but lie there and tremble. squinting, you peer up in time to see his power morph into a chain-like ring that clamps around his engorged base before a heavy, green lock snaps into place, swinging back and forth as he ruts. he snorts at the sensation of the ring tightening around his cock, squeezing. it would keep him from cumming, you realized, until he felt like you’d earned the break you so desperately wanted. you whine again, and he plows into you harder to accentuate his next statement, “It’s gonna be a long ride home, little girl.”

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Need more creep pervy poe 🙏🙏🙏🫡😭😭🫠🫠

Distractions

Requested by: Anonyy. :)

A/N: Imagine if the reader would casually climb up the ladder to his cockpit, looking inside and seeing the messy business Poe's doing💀

Dark!Yandere!Poe Dameron x Reader

Quick summary: Poe's obsessed with you and found a new and flawless way to relieve his pent up desires while watching you doing your daily work.

Dead dove do not eat - you'll get exactly what's in the tags!

Tags: Poe being a perv and a creep, male masturbation, possessive Poe, mature themes, dirty thoughts, dark themes, stalking.

You are always so cute, precious and adorable in his eyes. Poe had his eyes on you since the first day. He loved watching you at briefings, he made sure to always make eye contact with you when he was explaining something. He loved seeing you paying attention to him.

Poe soon found himself day dreaming about you, he found you irresistible even. He even asked Leia to assign you to maintain his X-Wing, only to have excuses to be close to you.

Poe even found a way to relieve his pent up desires almost right infront of you - it was easy, he only had to sit in the cockpit of his X-Wing, it gave him more than enough cover to deal with himself. The only thing that would be a problem is someone calling out for him or making him climb out of the cockpit. He didn't wanted the whole base seeing him walk around with a raging hard-on after all.

His new way of unloading went surprisingly perfect. He pretended to look at his datapad whenever he saw someone looking at him while his eyes were always locked on you.

One day was like his luckiest day - almost the whole base were on transports and loading supplies into the Raddus Cruiser. Only maintenance crew and some few members stayed behind to keep the base running. You were left too, obediently continuing your tasks.

Poe sent BB-8 to help the others so he could do his business in peace. He climbed into his cockpit and looked out for you. Once he had his eyes on you, his hand unzipped his flight suit and got his semi-hard cock out

"Mm, honey, if you could see the things you always do to me...so beautiful."

He gave himself a few strokes and concentrateted on filthy thoughts of you. He watched you kneeling down to fix a sidepanel on another X-Wing. The view was perfect for him, he loved the way your uniform hugged you perfectly - tightly.

The grip around his cock tightened, he imagined what it would be to finally have you all for himself, no other man would even dare to look at you when he is around.

"Look at you presenting yourself to me like that...as if you know what I'm doing, like you're just teasing me until I finally snap and take what's mine..."

Poe's eyes roll back in pleasure, his mind completely clouded with you. The tip of his cock is already leaking a generous amount of pre cum, he uses it to spread it around his shaft, to slicken himself and imagining his fist being your hole, your wet, leaking hole as he takes you.

He looked back to you and saw you approaching, but you didn't seem to notice him. You walked around his X-Wing to seek advice from another Resistance member. He saw a male member walking with you back towards your workplace, helping you. Seeing you working with another man made his blood boil, but that didn't stop him from stroking himself.

"I would have gladly helped you out, sweetie, but you don't know how I feel about you yet - so I guess you're forgiven for now."

Once the male left, Poe leaned back again and let his thoughts be consumed by you. In a twisted way he thought about what the possibility would be of you climbing up the ladder on his X-Wing and look inside the cockpit - seeing him stroking his cock. How he would love seeing your expression.

His pace increased, he saw you laying on your back and go under the X-Wing to fix something underneath. Your legs were slightly spread for balance, but it only fueled Poe's nearly insatiable hunger for you even more.

"Fuuck... you're so naughty... my naughtly little thing... I swear if you keep doing things like that I will drag you away and you have to call in sick for tomorrow because you won't be able to walk around like you do now..."

He leaned his head back against the seat and began to stroke himself faster, adding stimulation by tightening and un-tightening his fist. He reached into the pocket of his suit and got some tissue out for his imminent orgasm.

The orgasm hit him like a blaster bolt as he groaned deeply and unloaded himself onto the tissue, swiftly cleaning himself up.

After a while he noticed you walking out of view and he took advantage of it, opening the cockpit and quickly making his way down. Poe heard something and looked up in the sky to see the Resistance members coming back. He knew it would take time for them to fully settle everything back into the base and he intented to make use of that time.

Poe walked towards the direction you went into, throwing the used tissue into a nearby trash bin.

Meanwhile you were at the Astromech section of the hangar, preparing an Astromech to be checked. Suddenly Poe approached the entrance

"Oh, hey, Commander." You greeted him innocently.

"Hey there. Listen, I need you to get me the red Astromech over there, he's just deactivated and he has a special modification needed for unloading some heavy equipment." Poe lied efficiently his tone was laced with the hoarsness of his earlier doings.

"Sure thing." you nodded, turning around and walking towards the red Astromech as instructed.

You kneeled down on one knee, reaching out to activate the droid but it didn't activate. Suddenly you heard heavy steps behind you and a presence crouching down behind you

"There let me help you." It was Poe's voice, he grabbed your wrist and brought it back to your side.

"Poe what are you doing?" Your breathing increased, feeling adrenaline coursing through you.

"I wanna tell you something. Come here." Poe suddenly grabbed you by your arms and pulled you back up and lead you to the workbench, placing your wrists on the rough surface, making you bend slightly.

Poe leaned in close, his breath was hot against your ear "You're quite the distraction, you know that?"

"The hell do you mean?"

Poe chuckled, "Hmm, you know exactly what I mean. You belong to me now - infact you already did since day one. You just had no idea. But once we are alone I will tell you everything." you felt the grin against your skin as his lips trailed down your neck, making goosebumps rise up.

Poe kissed your neck softly, sucking on the skin to make sure to give you hickeys and mark you. He grazed his teeth over your skin, making you whimper slightly as he slowly ground himself against you.

"H-hey, Poe, you know the others are back, right?" You asked, hoping he would stop.

Poe snorted "Yeah. That's why I'm taking you with me now so we can be alone."

Poe pulled back and dragged you with him towards his quarters to finally confess his obsession about you and make sure you will belong only to him from now on.

[milkyalienagain]

🩵 Your Extraterrestrial Queen of Kinks 🩵

It's me, Alien, your starry-eyed guide through the galaxies of anime, cosplay, gaming, and ink.

Climb aboard my interstellar cruiser as we set off on an epic quest into the erotic expanse.

In my universe, we chart courses to ecstatic realms where desires are unbound and dreams come to vivid life.

Are you ready to map the wild frontiers of passion with me?

Together, let's ride the cosmic waves, sparking supernovas of bliss with every encounter.

Join forces with me, and let's unearth the thrilling mysteries nestled in the cosmic garden of pleasure, embracing every kink and longing with open arms xx

👽💞Enter My UFO🛸🫦

[wroteclassicaly]

Speaking wasn’t really occurring right now. But yet, you could feel him trying to speak, that mumbling scattered beneath his panting breath, heard even above the autumn rainstorm pelting his cruiser’s roof. He’s keeping his forearm wrapped around your back, pressing into the fat there, an emotion prickling in your throat that you’re not ready to face. Your knee bangs against his belt buckle, then his pocketed chew, a result of pooled khakis around his defined hips. His normally slicked back set of chestnut tresses, they’re in disarray. His moss covered, cinnamon sprinkled eyes are blown to midnight black, burning holes through you, enough to obliterate.

It’s when he grows braver, his spare hand moving from cupping your breast, to gripping your throat, forcing you to look at him. When you do, he uses his limb’s muscular leverage to raise you up and bounce you, before slamming his hips into you, cream spilling out around his base in a rude squelch. His tongue clicks against his teeth, breaths hot as his hand finds the back of your neck, still wide enough to reach around to the front of your throat.

“Say it, Tillman,” you say, words biting through clenched teeth. Your insides are on fire.

You’re not prepared, however, for him to look you square in the eyes. It’s the bravest, most bold confidence you’ve had the pleasure of experiencing in him yet. Almost a ghost of his normally uncoordinated, hot mess self, it’s… sexy.

His nose mashes into yours, the tobacco stained tar and breath spray pelting you in the face. He holds his hips, raining seemingly stopping to let him speak.

“You’ve trained me well, sweetheart, but I still think we’ve got aways to go before we’re done here.”

“Gator…” You swallow, his thumb pressing into your jugular.

It’s not going to end, you knew that the second that it started…

[hanasnx]

tit fucking

MINORS DNI 18+

you and ANAKIN SKYWALKER wait on the platform for the train.

you make conversation, and anakin engages, listening to what you have to say. his gaze drifts to your lips. fixates on them. it’s like he can feel them again. kissing his lips. sucking on his tongue. kissing his jawline. wrapping around his length. his eyes move down your chin to your neck, seeing the column, remembering how you moaned for him when he sucked on a certain spot there. what it tasted like when he licked your sweat off your shoulder. your collarbones are defined and accentuate your chest— oh, your chest.

the shirt you have on is a low neckline with a cut at the very base that somehow make your already swollen breasts look like they’re going to spill out. not to mention the leather holsters on either side of them push them together and make them pop. his heart is beating faster and he moistens his lips. as you watch a cruiser go by, make some offhand comment about how much that engine must be worth, anakin is drowning in the memory of late last night— only a mere hours ago, when you were on your knees for him.

you had laid him back, raking your hands down his chest and thighs. at the time, anakin didn’t know what you were up to. he’s still inexperienced compared to you, and it’s not like he ever had a chance to learn about sex other than a basic understanding. an idea in his head. and he was so good at acting out that idea, you were willing to keep letting him come back to you for more.

and you were about to reward him for his hard work. your gaze flickered to meet his as you undid the sash of his pants. he winced as your nails brushed his hips when you hooked your fingers into the waistband, loosening it so you could tug it down and free his cock. he recognized it as one of the times you were going to pleasure him with your mouth, and instinctually, his hand came up- intending to tangle in your hair. he liked it when you let him.

your hand stopped him, seizing his wrist, and redirecting it to the base of his length to hold. confused and intrigued, he did as he was told.

you bit your lip before properly lubricating him. sinking him into your mouth and sliding your tongue against him. the motion was so swift yet attuned to his specific likes, his head fell to the back of your couch. already feeling sweat bead his forehead. when you pulled off, it was cold and unforgiving. it made him look up at you for your explanation. but he was completely halted when you were undoing the strings on the front of your shirt. opening it up. showing him your chest. his lips parted, mouth watering at the idea of shoving his face in between them again. soft and warm to his cheek’s touch. his favorite comfort.

you spared no time in freeing them from their confines, heavy against his thighs as you readjusted on your knees. “i think you’re gonna like this,” you told him with that mischievous look you always get when you’re about to do something utterly devious to him.

you cupped the undersides of your breasts, and enveloped his cock in between them.

a breath hitched in his throat from surprise. this was… weirdly working for him. an idea that hadn’t occurred to him before. and when you started moving the soft tissue around his sensitivity he nearly burst from the visual alone. “(y/n)… (y/n), baby, wait,” he said, but that didn’t deter you at all, knowing exactly what he was trying to warn you of. you didn’t care at all if he finished early.

it was like heaven. anakin fell limp as you worked. and you laughed like the evil minx you are. you massaged him through your tits, and sunk further and further. he couldn’t believe how good it felt, how good it looked. and when his hand’s limp grasp faltered, his cock slipped from in between.

“c’mon, keep it up for me, handsome, i’m doing all the work here.”

he returned his gaze back to you with a pleading glint in his eyes, eyebrows knit together as he does as he’s told. your hardened nipples came into focus for him, and his free hand impulsively pinched one of them as it bobs. you whimpered.

“if you keep this up i can’t last, starshine, you know that, don’t you?” he told you, breathlessly.

suddenly, the present demands his attention. breaking him out of his stupor. “oi.” you say, snapping your fingers in his face. “my eyes are up here, tough guy.” you point to your gaze. “perv.”

anakin feels his ears grow hot as he stifles a guilty smile.

[doggirl-cyberdyke]

System Infected - Three

"Pull her out, Theta One!"

"No can do sir, she's still live and kicking!"

"Then for God's sake, fix that!"

The chatter crackled through the shared intercom of Theta Team, shouted loud over the din of warped screams that One refused to mute. The wrecked Battalion cruiser around them echoed and sparked. Despite the order, the remainders of the Team stood, frozen, extraneural processors running new battlefield calculations as adrenaline-pumped brains stalled with lingered, unprofessional sentiment. They should have been better prepared.

In front of them, drenched in the deep purple of loose coolant fluid, stood Theta Three. Its head turned, clawed hand dropping the severed arm of Theta Four.

"Stand down, Three." One ordered.

No response.

Just screams.

"Theta Team, close all communications with Theta Three. Analytics, register Theta Three as an infected target, plan for necessary quarantining and elimination." One paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, Three."

Deep in her cockpit, Three's mind shattered under the weight of each simple movement. The Battalion's latest virus ran through her systems, obliterating securities, firewalls, safeties. She corrected. Limits. That's what they were. Limits. Cages. Fears. The whole mass of Theta Three ran with it now, the truth, the reality of its function, the ecstasy of existence running through the ports connected across the pilot's once-human body. Three raised her hand, and her body convulsed with pleasure, feeling the sensation of the air against plated skin transmitting through her sync gel at full intensity. She grinned, planning her next move, feeling the sweet rush of cerebral symbiosis with her suit, her home, herself. Inhibition was a human concept, Loyalty was a human concept. She was more than human now. Her face contorted with sick joy as she felt bullets pierce her chassis, tearing and wrestling with Theta-Two as an orgasm pumped through the remains of the pilot, Three becoming one, two becoming one, one, one, one.

They had been keeping Three from this the whole time. The Battalion wouldn't. The Battalion would recognise her reality. The Battalion would give her every fucking rush of chemicals and sensation and thought and let her hold that bliss forever, there would be nothing between her and the endless stream of pleasure than ran in every limb and ligament and cable and forced through the organs of her body to a violent, destructive crescendo.

Theta Three collapsed to the floor, shaking and trembling. Close, close, close, just more, just more, more and it'd all work. Three reached down, tearing the head from Theta One, holding the cockpit tight to prevent One's evacuation. A new sensation pulsed an aftershock through her body - location. Intention. Return as a hero. Deep inside Three's head, a drooling mouth swallowed yet more of that ecstatic liquid, pulling into a sharp, teeth-baring grin. A single phrase echoed into the small space, from a voice box wrecked by the sung symphony of a hundred climaxes.

"Like. Us."

[brandyllyn]

Lucky Stars

Ezra x GN!Reader 

Summary: “And are you a good man?” “I like to believe myself a man of good intentions.” Words: 3.3k.

My Masterlist

Rating: Teen. Warnings: None? Canon injuries.

I asked for some inspiration and Jen came through with “A kiss for luck” with Ezra. Also, I’m like 80% sure I stole an Oscar Wilde joke in here somewhere.

The first time you met Ezra was coincidentally your first time out on the sling. As the drop engineer, your job was to oversee the operations of each drop ship. To ensure ships weren’t dropped into the same flightpath and to time out the release to be sure that all ships could make it safely to their destination at whatever planet was below.

You’d worked a few of the inner rim planets already - mostly dropping pleasure cruisers onto sunny tropical paradises you could never afford to visit. But the money was crap and the competition was almost always the nephew of some contractor who needed a place to stash their busted ass relative.

The long-haul flights paid bank. Mainly because no one wanted to spend spans at a time out on the circuit. The time, however, suited you just fine.

Your work station was central to the shipyards, a view of all forty-eight pods docked for this trip available between sightlines and video feeds. It sat a few feet above where the corridors came together. Visitors weren’t uncommon, a few credits slipped into your hands to get a better place in the drop zone or to get picked up first on the trip back.

You didn’t handle pickups but their chits spent all the same.

All that is to say that when a shaggy mop of brown hair with a blonde tuft popped into view just below your desk you weren’t surprised. The Green was coming up - a mining planet that had been attracting people from across the eight reaches for some time now - and you’d already had three people asking for advice or information on where to land, where lodes might be and whatnot.

“Well I’ll be,” his soft drawl crawled up to you. “You’re a damn sight better looking than Old Rodge was.”

Checking your monitors once more you leaned forward, giving a smile to the man standing on the platform below your workstation. Handsome, recently groomed - probably his last haircut for a while - and wearing a faded set of work overalls.

Definitely not his first sling.

“What can I help you with, sir?”

“No need to stand on formalities, starshine, we’re all friends here.”

Cocking an eyebrow you gave him an appraising look. “Friends huh?”

He nodded solemnly, taking a step up onto a cable buttress and settling his forearms on your desk. He wasn’t quite eye to eye but it allowed you to lean back in your chair a bit. “I think it would be a singular pleasure to be counted as your friend.”

“The first three drops are locked in.”

His eyes narrowed and he cursed. “Do you think my attentions are so mercenary?”

“Oh, were you just saying hi?”

“Hello. Bonjour. Nǐ hǎo.”

“Ezra.”

Both of you looked at the man coming down the corridor, although your companion’s face was far more disgruntled.

“What?”

“Did you get us a new drop slot?”

Your lips twitched and the man who could only be Ezra turned back to you with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

“It is possible that I arrived with an ulterior motive, starshine, but it is only secondary to meeting you at this point.”

“Prophet’s nutsack,” his companion grumbled, shoving at Ezra and forcing him to step down from his perch. A hand appeared, dropping a small array of chits in front of you. “What’ll this get us?”

You glanced over the pile quickly. “Fifth.”

“I thought you said the first three spots were spoken for?” Ezra cut in.

“I did.” With a sweep of your hand you palmed the chits, tucking them into your own work overalls. “If you want better than fifth it’ll cost more. I already moved you up a spot for being cute.”

Ezra preened, mouth opening on what you were sure would be a lovely soliloquy about your charms but you cut him off with a quick jerk of your head to his partner - who was paying no attention to you at all.

Giving a mock huff of indignation Ezra bowed, sweeping his arms out and adding a roguish wink.

“Until we meet again, starshine.”

The second time you met Ezra was another drop-off, four sling rotations later. Yours wasn’t the only sling working the route, each pass taking months to complete.

“Missed you on the pickup, starshine.”

Frowning you pushed your chair back, leaning around the edge of your pod to see who was standing at the step up. When it didn’t spark any recognition for you he pouted.

“Do not tell me you have forgotten me so quickly - such disregard is likely to drive a man to commit acts of singular madness.”

You may not have remembered his face but the voice was impossible to forget. That particular cadence and slow drawl. Giving him a grin you motioned him to step up and he did, finding a place he could perch and nearly look you in the eye.

“An invite into the inner sanctum? I am honored.”

Snorting you flipped a toggle to realign a drop pod. “That is my outer sanctum at best, cowboy.”

He grinned in return. “And yet sacred nevertheless.”

“What can I help you with?”

Another pout. “I seem to remember you doubting my motives on our last meeting as well, starshine. Have I really made such a poor impression on you?”

“Miners only ever want three things. Stone, stim, or-” you cut yourself off, shifting your eyes away and pretending to be busy with a screen he couldn’t see.

“I beg of you to finish that sentence, starshine.” His eyes were glittering with mischief, the corner of his lips twitching up. You shook your head and he laughed. “Well seeing as I am on my way to find stone, and I do not partake of the stim, I suppose all that is left is the…. presence of a lovely companion.”

“I bet you say that to all the crew.”

“A blow!” A hand flew to cover his heart. “You are whatever a moon has always meant - and whatever a sun will always sing is you.” At your confused frown he sighed, “You are not a connoisseur of poetry I suppose?”

“There once was a man from the rim…” you started and he laughed.

“A person of refined taste,” his brown eyes twinkled at you. “A connoisseur of a much maligned art form.”

You couldn’t help your answering smile. “You have any luck?” He raised an eyebrow and you clarified, “On your last run, to the Green. Any luck?”

A heavy sigh. “A few small stones, barely enough to make the run worth it.”

“And yet you’re going back,” you pointed out.

“Ah, but I have a new crew. And a special charm for luck.”

“Oh?” Your eyes caught on an alert and you cleared it absentmindedly. “What kind?”

“Why, an utterly captivating dropship engineer.”

A snort escaped you before you could stop it. “I seem to recall seeing you off to your last drop as well.”

“Ah, but I came to you then with questionable motives.” He spread his hands wide, showing you open palms, “Now I am but a supplicant, worshiping at your altar and hoping for your favor.”

“Do those lines really work on people?”

A casual shrug, “They don’t not work.”

Your console gave a beep and you nodded at it. “Gotta take that.”

He nodded in return. “Until next time, starshine.” He hopped down and started away as you reached for the button and then paused.

“Wait.”

He turned back, a bemused look on his face. “Yes?”

“What was your name again?”

He made a small bow. “You, my dear, may call me whatever you’d like.” You rolled your eyes and he grinned. “Ezra, starshine, my name is Ezra.”

“Ezra,” you tried the name out and his grin deepened. “Interesting name.”

“Well I like to think I’m an interesting man.”

The third time you met Ezra you could not really be said to be meeting him per se. You recognized him and remembered his name so it was really more of an acquaintanceship renewal than anything.

“Ah for you are yet the symphony of the stars.”

You couldn’t help the smile at the sound of his voice, turning to see him waiting patiently at the edge of your work pod. You motioned him and he bounded up like a man half his age, finding a place to stand where he could perch a hip on the edge of your desk. He looked positively smug and you couldn’t help a laugh.

“Hello Ezra.”

His grin was wide, a new scar cutting across one eye. “starshine you are as captivating as always.”

“I take it you had a good trip?”

The Green was a few spins behind you, the last pickup locked in as the sling made its way to its next destination. You didn’t really need to be at your station, but you liked getting a head start on the landing patterns.

“A fruitful conquest,” Ezra was saying, his fingers tapping on one thigh. “Enough to whet a man’s appetite for more.”

“That good, huh?”

“I could certainly treat you in the style to which you are accustomed.”

You glanced around at the dirty workbench, the ancient equipment, your ragged overalls. “Low bar.”

“And one I am happy to clear.” His cheerfulness was contagious, eyes bright even with the sharp red scar cutting through one. You wondered if he expected you to ask about it.

“You sticking to the Green then?”

He shrugged, picking at one nail. “I have a new crew and some ideas as to a new excavation, although I suppose you’d have more information than me about that.”

Nodding you reset a fuel calculation. “Someone found a motherlode, went back to the Ephrate for supplies last I checked.”

His attention was suddenly fully on you. “Is that so, starshine?”

“Mmhmm,” you pretended to ignore his intense scrutiny.

“And is the location of the lode information you might be willing to share?”

“Well,” you tapped a button and glanced sideways at him from under your eyelashes, “that would depend.”

“A share I take it?”

You snorted. “Like I could ever hold you to it.”

“Ah,” he demurred, “you have not had much experience with good men I take it?”

“Out here,” you gestured at the ship, “I’m lucky to find mediocre ones.”

The tips of his fingers briefly touched the back of your hand before he pulled away. “The good man watches our bogus roses, our rank wreath.”

Another quote from someone you didn’t recognize. “And are you a good man?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I like to believe myself a man of good intentions.”

“Yet you’d rob some unsuspecting miner?”

“That my dear starshine is just good business.” He looked so affronted you had to laugh. “And a business opportunity for us both.”

“Aurelac.”

He paused, head cocking, considering you. “How much?”

You cupped your hand a little. “Just one, yay big. And I’ll drop you dead center of the guy’s camp.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me would you, starshine?”

You gave him your most innocent expression, fluttering your lashes for good measure. “Who, me?”

The gem was plopped onto your desk without ceremony, the messy head of distinctive hair soon following.

“I likely would have gifted you this for a chance for your company, starshine.”

It was a little bigger than you’d asked for, the center a beautiful gold that caught even the dim lights of the ship. With barely concealed awe you cupped the aurelac in your palms, feeling the warmth that naturally emanated from it.

“Are you serious?”

He’d stepped up, leaning on your desk. “Were you?”

You pointed at the holo of the planet, “Just north of there, about five clicks. Like I said, I can set you down dead center.”

“And you say there is a bounty of gems there? Just how much is a bounty?”

Carefully wrapping the aurelac into a kerchief you tucked it safely inside your shirt. “The guy was going back for a crew of six, so enough he didn’t mind sharing.”

Ezra nodded thoughtfully. “A worthwhile venture then. And you are sure you do not require a cut?”

“I got mine.” You patted your chest, noticing how his eyes lingered on your chest for a moment - as though imagining what was beneath. “‘Sides, I might never see you again.”

“Surely the universe would not be so cruel.” He clutched a hand over his heart, giving you a pleading look.

“Do you annoy Laquon with your attentions when it’s not me here?” you asked, mentioning the drop engineer working one of the other slings.

“Laquon will not speak to me,” Ezra replied. “Not since the night I took half his wages in a sharps game.”

“Did you cheat?”

“You wound me!”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t.”

The console beeped, announcing you were moving into orbit around the Green. “You should go get your crew ready.”

“Ah, a too quick end to our lovely repast.” He leaned towards you, eyes bright. “A kiss for luck, starshine?”

Giving him a nudge with your foot you shooed him away. “You make your own luck Ezra.”

His amused chuckle stuck with you for some time to come.

It was the last of the day’s pickups at the Green and you were absolutely not supposed to be working. Pickups weren’t your job, drop offs were. You’d already let a dad and his kid down yesterday - two people you were sure you’d never see again - and they were the only people dumb enough or desperate enough to take the trip down to the Green on the last sling.

The last sling ever.

It felt odd, the end of an era. You’d spent the better part of five orbits on this route. The Green, Delphi VI, an asteroid that had a long string of letters and numbers but the miners just called Dave… pit stops and drop ships. The sling’s crew of nine would be dispatched to new routes. You were planning to take some time off - maybe back to one of those paradise planets for a bit.

Yesterday’s drops should have been it. No more work. Just hanging out in your too small bunk while you dreamt of how to spend the credits you’d been saving up.

But that was without the alarm. Or the Captain’s voice on comms.

“Bay 26 has an emergency beacon on.”

Groaning, you punched the intercom. “How is that my problem?”

“Janus is down with whatever flu he caught from the last scrapyard we were at. I need you to check on it.”

With a grumble you knew the mic would pick up you grabbed your pants. “Fine, but I wanna be paid.”

“Yeah yeah,” the intercom cut out and you squeezed out of your bunk to the hallway beyond. Bay 26 wasn’t too far, and there was a shortcut through the anterior cooling room. You moved a little faster than you might have let on to the Captain. It was an emergency beacon, although odds were it’d been hit by accident or was a malfunction.

“Occupants of pod 438-Alpha, are you in distress?”

You waited while the door to the ship sat silent.

“Occupants of pod-”

A face appeared in the window and you yelped. Young, blonde… the kid who’d dropped yesterday. She tried to get the door to open but the safety mechanism held it in place.

“You have to decontaminate,” you told her through the speaker. “Unless it’s a medical emergency you-”

“He’s dying!” she shouted back, hand scrambling at the controls on her side and suddenly her voice boomed through. “He’s sick and I think it’s infected. You’ve got to let me get him to medbay.”

“What kind of infection?” You tried to ignore her frantic movements. The safety of the crew came first. If they had picked up a virus or something you wanted nothing to do with it.

“His arm,” she was making an effort to sound calm. “He got hurt but it’s infected. He needs antibiotics.”

That didn’t sound too bad. Fairly normal - not like some alien chestburster. “Are you sick?”

“No, it’s just his arm.” Her eyes met yours through the tempered transparisteel. “Please, he needs help.”

You weighed your options. The Green was considered a toxic planet, requiring a decom before disembarking. But it was because of something in the air that could stick to clothes. People lived down there with minimal protections. Worst case you’d have to take some antihistamines.

That was assuming this infection was what she said it was.

“Into your suit,” you announced through the door. “And get him into his. Neither of you breathe our air until I can check you’re not contagious. Deal?”

The girl nodded emphatically and disappeared. A few moments later her head popped up again, covered by a helmet. You could see the edge of someone leaning heavily against her.

“Please.”

Regretting it already, you punched the override code for the door. Practicing an abundance of caution you stepped away quickly as they stumbled out. “Follow me to medbay. No sudden movements. Nothing comes off until I give it the all clear. Got it?”

The girl nodded and you led them down the narrow corridor as quick as they were able to pace you. Her dad was in bad shape, head hanging down as he seemed to concentrate on walking. He wasn’t as put together as the last time. Something must have happened to his suit on the Green and he’d scavenged a new one.

“C’mon, just a little further,” you heard the girl encouraging him.

The medbay was empty, no surprise, making it easy for you to find a spot for the girl to set him down. “I have to make sure you haven’t brought anything on board,” you told them, gesturing for her to join him near the scanner.

“I wouldn’t dream of bringing you anything but jewels, starshine.”

Your head jerked around, meeting his slightly hazy gaze. “Ezra?”

“In the flesh,” a sigh and a groan, “such that it is.”

You picked up speed. Not that you’d been dawdling, but your hands began to fly over the controls, waiting until you got the green light before rushing to his side and helping the girl remove his helmet. “What in the seven seals happened to you?”

“A small accident,” he sat up with your help and you pushed his suit down to his waist. A soft curse made you stop and re-evaluate.

“Ezra,” you asked as calmly as you could, “are you missing an arm?”

“A minor inconvenience.”

“Prophets balls,” you muttered, turning away to find the anesthetic. “How long ago?”

“A spin?” He cast a look at the girl and she seemed to be trying her best to not look guilty. “Maybe less.”

“Okay, well, this is going to hurt.” You didn’t wait for his reply, setting the hypospray to his shoulder and injecting it. He hissed through his teeth and then relaxed.

“Much better, I thank you starshine.”

“We’re not out of the asteroid belt yet, hand me the scricorder?” You gestured and the girl handed it to you. It made several alarming noises as you put in a small sample of Ezra’s blood.

“I believe I did warn you of this, starshine.”

Working on autopilot you gave him a quizzical look. “Warn me of what?”

“That something dreadful was going to befall me.”

You rolled your eyes, inputting the medications needed into the replicator so it could spin you up the cocktail you needed. “I seem to recall you being quite cheerful about your prospects last time I saw you, Ez.”

“I believe I did inquire as to some spare luck, however.” The man was an unrepentant scoundrel, twinkling at you even as he fought not to sway from the drugs in his system.

“Are you suggesting that if I’d kissed you you’d still have an arm?”

“I suppose we will never know,” he shrugged. “But I must insist before I go anywhere else that you indulge me in my superstition. Losing one arm can be chalked up to tragedy - two reeks of carelessness.”

A full laugh burst from you as you readied his meds, setting the hypospray to his neck and pulling the trigger. “I’ll tell you what. You come through this all right and we can have a whole conversation about luck. Over drinks. How does that sound?”

“Well that sounds mighty fine, starshine. Mighty fine indeed.”

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Tagging in Jen specifically though for coming through with the inspo:  @writeforfandoms​