#I'll post the snippets in patches of three or so

[esamastation]

In which instead of waking up in the Sun and Moon Dew Flower body Shen Qingqiu transmigrates to another world.

[teriwrites]

about me: a writeblr re-re-re-introduction

Hello! My old pinned post is officially over a year old and makes me cringe whenever I'm on my blog, so it's time to freshen things up again!

me

I'm Teri, I'm smack dab in the middle of my 20s and figuring out life. My writing is pretty exclusively original stuff, a lot of novels and a lot of fantasy, but I play around with various genres in short stories. Sort of a jack-of-all-trades in regards to hobbies - aside from writing, there's anything from baking to drawing with my ancient art tablet to cross-stitch to playing music to rambling around the patch of woods near my house to watching long-form D&D let's plays.

my goals

I recognize that every time I post something like this, it's with the intention of finally becoming as active on writeblr as I was during the pandemic. I also recognize I've never quite managed that.

So here are some more general goals to get me through 2024:

Finish my 2nd draft of Beyond Alder Creek

Write as cringey and brutally honest as I never allowed myself to as a teenager.

Speaking of, a large reading/writing goal of mine is to go back through every NaNo draft I've ever written (I've participated since 2011). So aside from just reading that and likely turning it into a whole spectacle on here for people's amusement, generally just survive reading through the writing from 8th grade. Stay tuned for more on that in the coming weeks lol

Finally, I have a general goal every year of reaching 100K words, between writing and editing and the like, but I'd happily be a little looser with that goal if it meant getting through others.

And now, without further ado:

my writing

Before I get specifically into WIPs, a general overview of the kind of writing you can expect from me:

As I said, I'm a fantasy nerd. I love worldbuilding, both on a large scale (nations and cultures and political relationships) and a small scale (a magic shop in an otherwise contemporary setting).

There's not a lot of romance in my writing, but there Are a lot of transformational relationships and codependency. Friendships, siblings, guardians, general ride-or-dies.

Thought experiments. I've been trying to catch and indulge more in my 'wait, what if?' ideas. Sometimes, that's fun little snippets of silly ideas, sometimes it's a majorly emotionally heavy scene for a story I'll never write. Sometimes, it's coming up with ideas to 'combine genres'. It's all about expanding the range.

wips*

Beyond Alder Creek /// draft 2 /// tag: bac

Winnie Pewitt has never believed in the fae. That is, until her little brother disappears, and she stumbles upon a faerie ring on the edge of town. Inside, a man seemingly carved from gold suggests that he knows who took the boy. With everyone else around their hometown accepting her brother's fate as certainty, Winnie takes it upon herself to craft the perfect deal and enter the realm of the fae with her new companion in tow.

The Lies in the Legend /// draft 1 /// tag: litl

The fictional autobiography of an elven noblewoman who rose rapidly in station and influence from an unremarkable youth to a diplomatic powerhouse. Spanning centuries during the prime of her life, Lady Ghislaine Agassi charts the course of her career and reputation, and highlights the dangers of making myths out of our idols.

*Though these are my primary WIPs, I have a page that covers various other WIPs and projects that I've brought up over the past few years.

I think that about covers everything! As always, I can't make any promises about how the year will wind up and where it takes us. But I will say, I've actually been writing recently, and yk I'm just gonna ride that high.

And for fun, here's some random facts about me:

fun facts

I have degrees in psychology and music!

I've lived across three continents, but currently live in upstate New York for whatever reason lol

The animals I've ridden on the back of include: horse, pony, elephant, and ostrich. The horse was my least favorite. By far.

I got diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes a couple months after Covid landed stateside (in May 2020) and am Always ready to talk someone's ear off about it.

The first story I ever wrote was on PowerPoint and was about war breaking out between humans and aliens that had taken refuge on Earth after their planet was destroyed. I was 8. There was a Lot of Clipart involved.

I've never been published, but I once secretly planned out, wrote, edited, and self-printed a couple copies of a novel about my best friends and our college apartment. They received it for Christmas last year and loved it (or at least were kind enough to tell me they did)!

[sarandipitywrites]

Find the word tag

@ahordeofwasps tagged me for this one - thank you! Go read her snippets here (seriously. read them. They are ajdshfkjlash). my words to find are nerve, name, new, and nail. i'll be searching the latest draft of Dead Roots, Dark Water for this one

i'll tag (no pressure!) @moonandris, @just-a-local-dreamer, @adhdavinci, @breath-of-eternity, @aalinaaaaaa, @eccaiia, and you (open tag!) to find scratch, change, story, and shoe.

CW for nerve, as it contains magical healing depicted as mild body horror. that entry has been moved to the bottom of the post. now, without further ado...

name

"Code names are standard for Underground communication. Our comm cracking procedure's prevented breaches so far, but it pays to be paranoid." "Hey, lemme make somethin' clear, Gravel-Breath: this job interview goes two ways. I have not expressed, nor accepted—" The gears clicked into place. Daxter's jaw dropped. "Wait. I'm Zeek?" "Short. Common. Inconspicuous." "Lotta words for boring. We got code names, man, let's make 'em somethin' spicy, somethin' like… Orange Lightning, or, or The Daxterminator—" "Zeek." He pointed at Jak. "Cylen. Don't try to change them."

new

Lines littered the length of Jak's exposed arm. Raised, dark gray ridges; thin, silvery lines; patches of dark, taut skin. What little he could see of Jak's chest told the same story. A thin breath hissed out from Daxter's tightened throat. "Who?" Jak snatched his hand away, yanked on his new blue coat. "It's fine. I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Silver. In the shadow of his jaw. Daxter pressed his fingertips under Jak's chin, angled it up. A thin silver scar. Vertical. Surgical. Skirting his larynx. Fire burned white-hot in his chest, choking, smothering. Tremors quaked down his arms. "Who?" Gol? Praxis? Some freak scientist, some vainglorious bastard who thought themself a god, wanted to fix what wasn't broken— "Dax, stop." Jak looked away, ears angled back. "Just…" Daxter let out a breath, long and stuttering. "Yeah. Right. Sorry, bud." It could wait. They could wait.

nail

Daxter turned around, took one look at him, and groaned. "Dude. The shoes weren't a friendly suggestion. Put 'em on." "Never needed them before." "You never been in Haven before. And the first rule of Haven is: shoes are not optional. Place's nastier than a hiphog's wallow. With at least…" he counted off on his fingers, "three times the horrible diseases." Jak crossed his arms. Whatever pathogens Daxter was worried about, Jak had encountered worse and survived. Without shoes. Daxter mirrored his stance and narrowed his eyes. "Jak Sabo, you are wearin' those boots if I gotta pin you down and duct tape 'em on. I ain't carryin' you around when you step on a nail and get gout." Jak rolled his eyes, but opened the bag and retrieved the boots. "Tetanus." "Yeah, that too."

nerve

He filled the gaps with green, wove the sheared bones together with spiderwebs of collagen and calcium. The new material scratched at his insides like raw sandstone on an exposed nerve. Eco jabbed through veins and nerves, stitching the frayed ends back together. Flesh, tendon, skin. Even when the last gash closed, golden brown eclipsing red, the inside of his skin itched like sand under his fingernails. Iron and lilies lingered, sweet and metallic and nauseating.

[karoiseka]

WIP File Game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet (or sketch, if for artwork) or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @newty! Most of my stuff doesn't have names, but let's see if I can get a few down!

Reunion (....yes I'm still working on it, maybe I'll finish it up before patch and do pics as soon as tools are back up!)

Proposal (started a prompt for Wondrous tails, stopped for now with distractions)

And Three Makes a Chorus (Ch 2 from Raha's view)

I'll put this as a random grab bag of a line from something I have like 3 lines written of--very random. (I have like 4 little little things started that I have no idea if they're ever going to go anywhere/or so early in my attempting to write again that they need to be fully re-written at this point. The other three I want to finish)

gonna tag some ffxiv friends that Bri didn't!!! @autumnslance, @eva-cybele, @elveny, @beefbroganoff

[blinkaftermidnight]

i would love to hear more about some of the unfinished The Wilds fics

Buckle up. There's a lot of stuff dying in my hard drive. Maybe, when I get the time, I should try to finish some of it up/patch it up/post random snippets (if anyone would be interested?).

So here's the thing, I have my drive separated into two types of fics for The Wilds: there are fics I consider potentially still in play and fics I've scrapped altogether. Two different folders. I'll make you a list under the cut and tell you what I consider each to be. And I'll probably give too much commentary about each.

If you want to know more or get a snippet of any of them, please send follow up asks. I would love to share. Or I'd love to hear what, if I were to pick back up with writing, you'd want to read the most. No guarantees, but I'll think about it.

I posted the snippet for i'll be waiting on you forever from Fatin's POV in another ask. Not very far into that, but I also haven't moved it to the scrapped folder. I think my problem with that kind of fic is it doesn't feel fresh enough - it's hard to make it feel new when we already know where it's headed. I've done it before, but it's hard.

I started a second Star Wars AU that's unrelated to the first where Leah's a Jedi Padawan and Fatin is a senator - literally Anakin and Padme in Attack of the Clones. Didn't get very far but didn't scrap it.

I have one that I'm still hoping to finish that's placeholder titled "Leah loses her mind" rightfully or wrongfully, I don't know. It explores her season two on island hallucinations and how that affects her and the group. It's 6.5k and unfinished, but I'm planning to take a look at it and see what can be done.

There are so many post island fics that are just snippets and doing nothing on my drive. I kept trying to experiment with writing all of the season two POVs post island and that shit is hard. Probably a sign not to expand too far away from Leatin because apparently I can only care so much lmao. But I haven't bothered to scrap them.

There's one where I attempted to write Leachel but that shit was also hard apparently. Really I was trying to write all different pairings and didn't get very far. Not scrapped and I have considered trying again more than once.

I started a no experiment AU where it was just an actual plane crash. I have 5k of that and no memory of writing it. Not scrapped. Not sure if I'd ever finish that.

The season 3 fic outline I mentioned in another ask but didn't link because I was on mobile, so that's here if you missed it. Not scrapped, but unfortunately I think outlining it made me feel like I told the entire story even though I never wrote more than 2-3 chapters. That's the problem with outlining, but only sometimes, because I outlined the exes fic/we're falling apart still we hold together, and that was fine.

I started a road trip AU back in 2021. Wrote 7k. Outlined the entire thing and same problem as above. Got stuck. I think I was trying to force word counts on myself for each chapter and it wasn't working. Not scrapped but very unlikely I'll touch it.

I have one just called "waterfall 5" that has five moments spent at the waterfall, and I almost finished it. I think I still have some hope of finishing it, since it's a quick thing.

I've talked about it before, probably two/three years ago at this point jfc, but I don't remember what I've disclosed about this fic. It's the one I mentioned in another ask about it not feeling right, so I didn't put it out, and it's something like 50k words and had a massive plot hole that I had to try to fix, and I was going to do a whole rewrite and maybe put it out. This one haunts me. There's a chance I'll throw the entire draft out one day without editing or fixing any issues. Or maybe I'll take another stab at it, since it's all there. Truly, this one haunts me. For once, I had a perfect title and nothing to show for it. There's probably snippets of it in asks on my blog somewhere from back when The Wilds wasn't cancelled and I was insane about it.

I scrapped the Grey's Anatomy AU. Just gave up on it.

I wrote 239 words of something vaguely Dotin and scrapped that too.

I have a first draft of the fake dating AU i don't belong to you (but you're wrong) that I scrapped. I took it in an entirely different direction and scrapped 10k of this other thing. I think I salvaged some of it for the posted fic, but it started going the wrong way.

Also have a scrapped draft of the last chapter of the soulmate AU i said i wouldn't let you in. That first draft of that chapter was BAD.

I scrapped 14k of everyone else's perception of what was happening with Leatin on the island. Like Leatin through every other character's eyes, and I don't remember why it didn't work or what I didn't like about it.

I'm not gonna lie, some of this stuff I'm looking at...even I don't know what it is anymore.

I scrapped a document called "untitled" and this is literally all that's in it:

"She sees her on the first day of school, sitting with the kid that supposedly led the FBI to Gretchen. Leah smiles slightly as Fatin crosses the lawn, and the kid – Ian – turns to look where Leah’s looking, and Fatin just tilts her head in acknowledgment and keeps walking. There’s nothing more for her to do."

I don't know what that is.

There's STILL a lot more documents I haven't touched on because I haven't bothered to open them and find out what they are (and my placeholder titles don't tell me much all the time). But I feel like this is a good start lmao.

Sorry for writing a novel, but you did ask. If you want more, let me know and I will make time over the weekend to post some stuff.

[the-storytellers-seer]

WIP Whenever (Or belated Wednesday)

Well, both @viss-and-pinegar and @mareenavee have tagged me so double tags mean I HAVE to post something!

I'll tag....um...whichever of my mutuals hasn't been tagged! Sorry, I'm bad at this!

I've rewritten Chapter One four times now and each has been a little different. I'm not sure which one I like but I'm leaning toward the chapter this snippet is from. Hopefully I'll figure it out soon!

*** Scrambling claws caught her boot and Sarea let out a startled shriek as she began kicking wildly, suddenly losing her balance, and collapsing hard atop the rock. The air left her lungs in a great, suffocating woosh and she coughed violently as she thrashed. Distantly, she heard her name being yelled. The voice managing to be carried above the din around her.

No, it was closer! The hissing growl of a flame spell filled her ears as the dizzying blanket that had settled over her was ripped away. Sarea was suddenly aware of several things at once, although the most pressing was the warm feeling of blood dripping down her leg and the bruise she knew she knew was blooming on her arse.

A searing wave of heat burst nearby as her companion conjured a flame atronach.

The sharp sounds of fighting clanged painfully in her skull as Sarea strove to regain a semblance of order.

 Just as quickly as the attack had descended, it was over and she noticed her companion peering down at her, his armored body blocking the diluted sunlight in a way that made her throbbing head rejoice. “Steady.” He soothed when she tried to sit up too quickly.

“’M fine.” She tried to assure him, but her words sounded garbled even to her own ears.

She shut her eyes as the chitin bone helmet duplicated itself and began to spin. A noise part nausea and part pain escaped her.

“You did well this time.” He assured her, his gravelly tenor hushed and soothing as he cast a spell.

Sarea felt the simple healing spell warm on her skin. The haze and pain in her skull fading, as the world righted itself. “Just a slight concussion, nothing serious.” He continued. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Three long gloved fingers appeared in her line of vision. “Three.” She replied, a slight smile gracing her lips.

The fingers became an offered palm and she let him tug her into a sitting position. The former battlefield was empty, the monsters fading into the never-ending ashen landscape as seamlessly as they’d appeared.

The mercenary was bent over her leg now, casting a healing spell over the long, wicked gash. Nothing could be done for the pants…at least not until they made camp, and she could attempt a patch job.

“Alright, anywhere else?” his helmeted face focused on her again and for possibly the millionth time since they met three days ago, Sarea wondered about his constantly covered face.                

For a brief moment, she debated telling him of the throbbing bruise on her arse, but quickly decided against it. It wasn’t good form to ask one’s employees to heal bruised arses, no matter how much one might want to. A healing potion would fix it easily enough.

[the--highlanders]

I'm gonna go ahead and assume that your wip tag game post (from *checks notes* November 27th? god help me) isn't necessarily current any more, but take this ask as an invitation to talk about/post a little snip of anything that still is a wip if you happen to feel like it!

gfkjlds I wasn't expecting things to have changed that much bc I have a terrible habit of going 'omg I want to write that' [dumping a few notes in a draft] 'wait I want to write something else'. I'm not a wip abandoner in the sense of never finishing anything, bc I'm still putting out the same amount of fic, & once I've actually started writing I tend not to abandon stuff, but I do leave a trail of ignored ideas in my wake ajhfklsdg.

but!! I have actually posted three things from that list since I posted it (tell me you love me, come back and haunt me (which became litany for a reunion), the one about jamie patching ben up, and the one which was a first sentence of zoe being woken up) & am working on a fourth for next fortnight (the post-phantom piper one). so!! call that progress ig

you know what I'm going to talk about the one I had down as [two in 6b on a mission in 1745 where he bumps into jamie;. apparently I am so so so addicted to rotating post-war games fics. they're spilling out of my pockets. & honestly we might have talked about this one??

the idea was two being sent on some sort of mission in 6b that takes him to the highlands, and quite coincidentally bumping into jamie. and jamie recognises him, and figures out that something must be up, but he's not had enough of his memories bleed through to trust two, so he starts following him around more out of suspicion than anything. two's trying to complete his mission and get out of there as soon as possible because he REALLY doesn't want the pain and guilt of hanging around with jamie when he doesn't remember him at all. but obviously they end up having to work together, neither of them can really help it :'))

the way I've planned it out doesn't. exactly have a happy ending, to say the least. and I don't really want to spoil it here bc if I ever do write it, I think it'd be a gut punch. so just know that it may or may not be coming :^)

ALSO speaking of post-war games fics I do want to share this little plotting snippet from a different document (the one for the sequel to old ghost's waltz), bc I am so insane about it but haven't actually plucked up the courage to start writing this fic yet. so hey, here's a glimpse of the way I plan my fics ig!!

[mairead] sits down and says she might feel better if she knew more about what had happened; she asks kirsty to tell her about the doctor, and then asks if jamie is in love with him, with the air of already knowing the answer is yes; kirsty is hesitant to throw jamie under the bus by saying yes outright, so she asks 'how did ye know?'; mairead says that soon after jamie came back from the war, she had given him her wedding ring, saying he would have more use for it than her, and that jamie had seemed very emotional about it and had said he would give it to the person he loved; she looks kirsty dead in the eye and says 'and I've never seen you wear it'; kirsty just nods, and then says mairead seems very calm about it; mairead scoffs and says it wasn't entirely unexpected; she pauses, then lets out a shaky laugh and says 'the fact that he's a faery man was a surprise, though'

like god I NEED to write mairead and kirsty having a very emotionally charged and stilted conversation about jamie having left them behind. I've been chewing over this one for ages now

actually this made me realise that I only have one more section left to plot out for this fic and then I'll be out of excuses for not writing it aghfsdld.

[catcas22]

1 and 7 for the fanfiction asks ^^

Thanks for the ask!

#1 Absolutely! Especially when writing dialogue. I like to let the scene just sort of exist in my head for a bit, let the characters talk, explore different ways the conversation could go and different paths it could take to get there, etc. Sometimes the results are... Unexpected.

#7 So Prince of Death is the only thing I'm actively working on currently, and I have a pretty short turn-around time on the chapters, so I don't really have anything to share on that front.

But for you, I'll whip up a brief snippet from the sequel to Grudge Match (funny Elden Ring modern AU), which is probably going to be my next project after Prince of Death wraps up.

Radagon was about to text Rykard -- he watched those true crime shows, he'd know what to do -- when he noticed Rennala suddenly fixate on the TV perched in the corner of the lobby.

The reporter was posted up outside of one of the downtown offices, breathlessly attempting to compete with the wail of police sirens.

That office looked familiar. Radagon snatched the remote off of the magazine table and cranked up the volume.

"... Campaign headquarters, where local law enforcement are responding to a whistleblower's accusations of child labor..."

Vyke emerged from the office door, carrying a boy wrapped in a shock blanket in his arms. As the camera zoomed in, Radagon recognized him about the same time Rennala did.

"Is that Miquella?"

"Put me down, I wasn't being kidnapped!"

"Clearly this poor child is both confused and traumatized--"

"Back off, Patches, the kid's in shock and this is an active crime scene."

Three more figures emerged from the door, the new deputy leading Ranni (looking sleep deprived and fairly unbothered) and Godwyn (looking sleep deprived and actively questioning his life decisions), both in handcuffs.

"Officer, I am not 'child labor,' I'm his campaign manager--"

"You're being very brave, son, but you don't have to lie for these two scumbags. They can't hurt you anymore... Patches, get that camera out of my face!"

With a heavy sigh, Radagon rose to his feet. He gave his wife a look of apology. "Can you take over here?"

"Why, where are you going?"

"I promised Ranni I'd post bail if this happened."

[shadowsong26fic]

Coming Attractions!

First Monday of the month, so here we go!

As per usual, this is also an Open Question Night--anything I've posted about here or on AO3 is fair game; my askbox is always open but tonight I'll be keeping an eye on it and responding. I do take prompts, but no guarantees on how quickly I fill them.

Not a whole lot to report this month--mostly because moving took up A Lot of time/energy/etc., so I didn't get as much writing done as I would have hoped, so just a quick blitz through:

OTP Meme fills-- I'm still super behind, haha. I caught up on June, but I need to do July, August, and September for all five ships this month, so that'll be fun.

PodTogether-- It got posted! It ended up being not quite all I'd hoped it would be (our plans were a lot more ambitious than our execution, haha), but the three bits that did get finished/posted I think turned out pretty well. I do enjoy doing this event a lot; next summer should be less busy for me, too, so hopefully it'll go a little smoother/I'll get a little closer to whatever my partner(s) and I end up planning (although I think I might take Leverage off my fandoms list next time; we'll see.)

Other SW-- No real updates here, other than we at SWBB got an ask about next year's event already (signups don't open til like December!!!), so I'm going to dig up what I started last year and hopefully actually finish it so I can participate. I've been involved with that event for so long that it felt weird to only do modding/betaing/podfic and not Write for it this time. (Precipice!verse has the same update it has for the past several months. It will not die until I leave this fandom, but it hasn't been getting much/any active focus lately.)

BSG-- Signups are still open for GBB! We could use a few more artists and betas. Story detail submissions are coming in, and I'm excited for what I'm seeing. I also want to get a little more into actively working on TOB over the next few weeks/by the end of the year. It's been floating around in the back of my head for so long and I thiiiiiink I've named all of the people and patched enough of the plotholes to get started...of course, now I need to figure out exactly when/where I need to start (especially since...you know, need to introduce a bunch of OCs plus explain why Baltar ends up in a different position...so yeah XD) I do still have various crossover snippets that might get worked on (like the one I reblogged the other day; there's also the Zeb and Helo one that I thought turned out pretty well); plus The Blood of Angry Men which I do genuinely plan to write at some point, but structuring it is a complicated question XD (Zarek character study/backstory piece; mostly focused on everything that initially sent him to prison, told through the lens of him looking back on it as he faces down his execution in S4; some stuff about charisma and followers he's lost/led to their deaths; the balance between him believing in his rhetoric and wanting power/using that rhetoric to gain it...a lot of really interesting things to think about here, lol)

Les Mis-- P&J will update soon; I'm also working on Acheron which I'm super excited for. I've written snippets of dialogue for Provenance (companion to P&J) but that won't get posted until the main fic is complete (because it's probably more fun to watch Ari solve as much of the puzzle as is possible given modern-day available records/evidence before filling in some of the gaps with a somewhat more traditional-style fic, lol)

Castlevania-- Not really much to say here other than at some point I will pick up Incinctus; also when Nocturne starts airing I will probably be Very Tempted to do a more active/actual crossover with Vampire Chronicles (bookverse) because. Like. The Theatre is right there lol (I know the vampire rules are very different in the two canons; which is part of why Marius existing in Incinctus is only a quick Easter Egg cameo; also Alucard and Armand would hate each other so much lol and I love them both so I'm not...suuuuuper interested in writing about that XD) Anyway, we'll see how much Nocturne actually draws me in, but at the moment I'm looking forward to it.

...I think that about covers it! Moving is exhausting and expensive but while unpacking/setup is still going on we are Fully Moved at this point, so...yay! Hopefully next month will pick up some.

[daswarschonkaputt]

Oooooh so many choices. And I'm torn between asking about mpreg kinnporsche and teenage Porsche! I mean, we don't want you tire yourself out but if you're up to a little titbit... Either?

okay well i have some good news, there is already mpreg kinnporsche content floating around on my blog. the not!fic is here, and i posted a snippet here a bit ago.

teenage porsche... okay so i started this not!fic when i was working on sheets chapter... probably six? i think. and then i got sick, and had to pivot to focus on finishing the fic, so the not!fic just sort of fell to the wayside. i do want to finish it, eventually.

essentially, there was a line in between the sheets about porsche at seventeen -- which was something like this:

Porsche isn’t without sympathy. In the grand scheme of things, Porsche generally wouldn’t pit a seventeen year-old orphan armed with cookware against an experienced bodyguard carrying a top-of-the-line fire arm—with the exception of himself, at seventeen. As a teenager, he’d been – as Yok once said – feral. Porsche maybe wouldn’t have been able to take down Pete, back then, but he’d have probably left the man with one less eye, and maybe a few missing fingers.

and this prompted my readers to tell me they'd pay good money to read feral 17 y/o porsche and 20 y/o kinn ruining each other. and i was like. damn. that's a good idea.

so: feral, angry-at-the-world teenage porsche thrown headfirst at deeply unhappy just-post-tawan kinn. that's the fic's idea.

i'll give you a snippet of the not!fic, but exercise caution. content warning for implied/referenced underage prostitution (no underage sex takes place). let me put it this way: reading this, the group chat complimented me on the knives. so. take that as you will.

the premise:

Porsche is 17 and angry at the world. It’s been about five and a half years since his parents died in a car accident, and the grief has had just enough time to stew into a futile kind of adolescent rage. The world is cruel and unfair, and Porsche is furious at it.

Porsche works two jobs – three, if you count competitive taekwondo, which you probably should – and attends school full-time, when he bothers to show up. His attendance is shit, his grades are barely acceptable, and he’s literally always broke. On top of that, about 80% of his spare energy on any given day has to go to persuading his little brother (Chay, 11) that absolutely nothing is wrong. His stress levels are through the fucking atmosphere.

Porsche attends a fancy private school on an athletics scholarship – which he really wouldn’t bother with, if not for the fact that his scholarship means that Chay also gets to go to school for free, in the attached junior school to his high school. Porsche has a quiet side hustle where he steals shit off his wealthy classmates and gives it to Uncle Thee to sell.

He has no friends, no support system, and the only person he talks with semi-regularly is his taekwondo coach, who thinks he’s cocky and lacking drive.

Recently, Porsche has taken to sneaking out of the house to take part in underground fighting matches. If he’s honest with himself, it has less to do with the money – which is… not bad, but honestly, not the best – than it does with giving Porsche an excuse to hit something until it just—stops. Porsche is scrappy – the kind of fighter who always gets back up, when you knock them down.

It’s the aftermath of one of these matches, when Porsche is staggering through the streets of Bangkok. He’s beat to shit, frankly – his ribs are definitely bruised, if not broken. His kidneys are aching in the way that means he’s going to be pissing blood for a week, or so. He’s just having an altogether bad time.

Porsche is heading for Yok’s bar – well aware that he can’t show up in need of medical help at home. Porsche doesn’t know Yok all that well, at this point, but she has an open door policy for him after she found him passed out on a bench outside her bar, once, and brought him in and patched him up. Yok’s the closest thing Porsche has to an adult he can count on, and he doesn’t even know her that well.

He takes a break on his trek to smoke a cigarette on a street corner – and that’s when he meets Kinn.

This is Kinn. 20 years old, university student, mafia heir. He’s fresh off the Tawan betrayal – cynical about love, cynical about people, and even a little cynical about his family. He’s floundering, and he’s in pain – he’s looking for whatever he can to erase it. Alcohol, sex, oblivion. He’s reckless with his security, because he doesn’t know if he wants them to keep him alive. Miserable and self-destructive. He’s wearing a silk shirt, unbuttoned to the navel, and he stumbles out of a nightclub door, to the sight of Porsche. Porsche is—well, he’s pretty. He wears seventeen with none of the awkwardness his peers do – Kinn looks at him, and he wants.

the meet not-at-all-cute:

Kinn: How much?

Porsche turns and looks at this rich asshole who’s just stumbled dead-drunk out of a nearby nightclub, who’s mistaken him for a whore and his immediate thought is, “Fuck this guy in particular.”

Kinn: Ten thousand?

Porsche gives him a withering look. Kinn misreads this.

Kinn: Fifty thousand?

Porsche puts out his cigarette, ready to fuck off.

Kinn: A hundred thousand?

Porsche pauses. And it’s—it’s awful, but here’s the thing: a hundred thousand baht is… That’s a years’ wages for Porsche and then some. With that much money, Porsche could probably even quit one of his jobs, maybe spend a bit more time with Chay.

It’s kind of shitty, to realise that you have a price. Porsche turns around at Kinn – this rich asshole, blind drunk, throwing around a hundred thousand baht on what he thinks is a street whore – and he thinks, Well.

Porsche: 150.

Kinn agrees. Porsche makes a little beckoning gesture, like, Hand over the cash, and Kinn’s like, “I’m going to have to go to an ATM first.”

You know what’s awkward? Standing next to the guy who’s bought you, as he withdraws the cash to pay you. Porsche rocks on his heels, asking himself, Am I really doing this?

Kinn has the money, and hands it over to Porsche. Porsche takes it, counts it, and does his best to pretend like this isn’t the most money he’s ever handled in his entire life. He puts it into his back pocket. Kinn looks at him like, Well? And Porsche is like, Yeah I’m going to pretend like I do this all the time.

He leads Kinn into an alleyway, and then Kinn kisses him. Porsche lets him, and then he drives his knee straight up into Kinn’s groin. Kinn makes a noise like he’s been shot, curling over in agony, taken completely off-guard. Porsche goes to run, with the cash, not expecting Kinn to get his feet under him and fight back.

It’s—brutal. Kinn is drunk, but also incredibly well-trained. By comparison, Porsche is sober, injured, and fucking feral. He comes out on top, but barely. He manages to knock Kinn out, and just stands there, breathing.

He looks down at Kinn on the ground and thinks, You know what? This fucker deserves this. And then he steals his watch, too.

after:

He manages to make it to Yok’s before the adrenaline wears off, but the weight of the 150,000 baht in his pocket is heavy, and he doesn’t go inside to ask for medical attention. Instead, he calls a taxi, and goes home to Chay and his uncle. Porsche gives his uncle the watch to sell, but doesn’t tell him about the cash, which he hides under a floorboard in his room.

Getting up the next morning is—weird. He feels like shit, but when he goes to check his hidey-hole, the money’s still there. His happiness is ruined when his brother comes into his room without knocking, and sees the awful bruising on his torso. Chay makes Porsche promise to go to the school nurse about it, and is generally just very fussy and worried about it all. Porsche capitulates easily.

Porsche spends the entire time at school waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it just—doesn’t. He gets home, the money’s still there. For the first time in nearly two years, he feels like he can breathe.

A week passes. Porsche begins to spend the money. He’s not profligate with it, or anything – but he buys a few things he might have put off. New shoes for Chay. Take-out for dinner one night. He gets on top of their bills and debts. Quits one of his jobs.

And then at school he’s called in to the headmaster’s office.

Headmaster is meeting with a fancy-pants donor who’s supposedly going to pay for a new scholarship at the school – and wants to meet the school’s most famous scholar, the national taekwondo champion. Mr Headmaster is basically tripping over himself to be nice to the donor – who turns around and smiles at Porsche.

It’s Kinn.

let the ruining commence:

This is so patently a power play that Porsche is almost pissed off about it – and the worst thing is that it still works, because Porsche is fucked. If Kinn tells the headmaster that Porsche scammed him out of a hundred grand, beat him up, and stole his watch – Porsche will lose his scholarship. Kinn is smug – he knows this.

Kinn executes a light bit of conversational manipulation to get the headmaster to leave him and Porsche alone. With the witness gone, the gloves come off.

Kinn: I have to say, I admire your bravery, if nothing else. It takes a particular kind of nerve to steal from me.

Porsche: I didn’t steal shit.

Kinn: [straightens his cuffs, just enough to draw attention to his watch, the one Porsche lifted off his unconscious body] What would you call the 150,000 baht of my money you ran off with, then?

Porsche: You gave that money to me.

Kinn: I gave you that money in exchange for a service to be rendered. That service did not include beating me unconscious and leaving me in an alleyway. I think we could make a case for breach of contract, at the very least.

Porsche: I didn’t sign shit, and I don’t owe you anything.

Porsche goes to leave, but Kinn catches his arm. Porsche throws off his touch.

Kinn: My money, Porsche.

Porsche: What about it?

Kinn: I’d like it back.

Porsche: I don’t have it anymore. [He goes to leave. Once again, Kinn stops him.]

Kinn: Then we have a problem.

Porsche: The only problem we’ll have is if you keep putting your hands where they don’t belong.

Kinn: The implicit contract was as follows: the money, in exchange for sex. As you have failed to uphold your end of the bargain, I’m going to have to ask for the return of the payment.

Porsche: I already told you, I don’t have the money anymore.

Kinn: Even gutter trash like you would struggle to spend 150,000 baht in one week. Return what you have.

Porsche: [Yeah, you know what? Fuck him.] I know your type – rich assholes who’ve never had to work a day in their life. Does your daddy know you spend his money on teenage rent boys?

Kinn: Is this a blackmail attempt?

The bastard sounds amused.

Porsche: Sure.

Kinn: Go ahead. Tell my father all about my twisted little proclivities. I think he’d be more appalled that I spent 150,000 baht on a mouthy little shit like you than the nature of my deviancy. [He steps aside from blocking the door.] My money, Porsche. You have 24 hours.

Porsche: Don’t call me, I’ll call you?

Kinn: Don’t get cute. [Hands Porsche a business card.] Call this number when you have the money. Someone will be by to pick it up.

Well, that’s Porsche’s day ruined.

Porsche thinks it over, and realises it’s probably just easiest to give Kinn back the 120,000 baht he still has from the affair. He goes back home and checks his hiding place, only to find it empty.

At first, he’s furious – he thinks that Kinn set all this up as some sort of twisted mind game. And then Uncle Thee comes shuffling in, surprised to see Porsche back from school so early. Porsche has this moment of hope.

Kinn had his watch back – which means that Arthee doesn’t have it. Did he manage to sell it? And Uncle Thee—hesitates. At which point, Porsche realises that Thee did manage to sell the watch, but something happened to the money. Which is that Thee gambled it away. He’d been trying to get a return on investment – but had lost big. He’d taken Porsche’s little money stash to the casino today to try and win back the money, but had lost that, as well.

Porsche stares at his uncle, and despairs. He’s—so completely devastated, and not even fucking surprised, that it wraps right back around to anger. He goes for Thee’s throat, throttling him, demanding to know what the fuck he was thinking—

At which point Chay gets home from school and pulls Porsche off their uncle. Chay’s mad at Porsche, without any of the context for why all this is happening, which makes Porsche even more upset. He storms out of the house, without thinking about where he’s going.

His feet take him to Yok’s bar, where Yok is accepting a delivery of alcohol. She sees him stood there, in his school uniform, after having trekked across Bangkok, and wordlessly takes him inside.

The entire story is too humiliating to tell Yok, so he lets out bits and pieces – that he owes someone a lot of money, that he had the money to pay them, and his uncle spent it all. He hands over the business card, which Yok inspects.

Bank, one of Yok’s bartenders, peeks at the card, and is like, “This is his card? This is really his card. Porsche, you’re fucked.” Cue a bit of background information about Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakul – and the extent of his family’s power. Bank is highkey amazed – how on earth did Porsche get tangled up with the mafia?

Yok’s immediate thought is that she can lend him the money. She asks how much it is, tells him he can work off the debt to her by washing glasses in her bar. But Porsche knows that 150,000 baht is too much for Yok – she doesn’t have that kind of money just lying around. He turns her down, tells her he can figure something out. Yok is hesitant, but Porsche is insistent.

the knives get worse:

Porsche leaves Yok’s bar, and calls the number on the card. He says he wants to talk about the debt in person.

Kinn sends a fancy car to pick him up. It’s driven by men in dark suits, who all look at Porsche like he’s gum they scraped off their shoe. Porsche gets in the car, and lets them take him to Kinn.

He’s taken to a fancy skyscraper in the centre of Bangkok. It’s all very grand, and Porsche feels like the worst kind of fraud, in his school uniform and ratty converse. He tries to pretend like the décor doesn’t get to him. He mostly succeeds.

Kinn is waiting for him in a fancy office. It has floor to ceiling windows and a light fitting that could be described as a chandelier. He looks up and down at Porsche.

Kinn: So, do you have something for me?

Porsche: [looks at the security detail] I’m not talking about this with them in the room.

Kinn: [pauses, considers] Big, leave.

Big: Khun Kinn—

Kinn: If he disables me, I’m sure you’ll catch him on the way out. Leave.

[They leave.]

Porsche: [clenches fists] You gave me the money for services to be rendered, right?

Kinn: I did.

Porsche: So if I rendered those services, I wouldn’t have to return it to you?

Kinn: [Eyebrows rise.] 150,000 baht in less than a week – quite the spending habit. What’s your poison? Drugs? Sex? Gambling?

Porsche flinches.

Kinn: Gambling. I see. But not you. The only risks you take are with your safety. A relative, then – probably not the baby brother. Your uncle?

Porsche: Do you want to fuck me or not?

Kinn: [Looks at Porsche.] I like my partners to enjoy themselves. I’m not convinced you would.

Porsche: [Clenches fists.] I can make nice. I can even moan your name, if you want me to.

Kinn: The last time I tried to fuck you, I ended up unconscious in an alleyway, missing my watch. I rarely make the same mistake twice. We’ll come up with an alternate repayment plan. [Calls out.] Big!

Big enters the room again.

Kinn: Take Porsche to Chan. Tell him to make him useful.

Porsche: I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me what’s going on.

Kinn: You sold me your body. Don’t get mad because I have other uses for it.

This statement makes Porsche think that Kinn is—pimping him out to whoever this Chan guy is, which is an awful realisation to have. Porsche considers running, before he spots the gun holster on every bodyguard around him. He’s fucked. He’s so very fucked.

Only—Chan doesn’t want to fuck him. In fact, Chan looks kind of pissed off about Porsche’s entire existence. Chan’s an older guy – middle-aged, but handsome – and he’s wearing the same suits and firearms routine as all the other bodyguards. He has Porsche fight against someone, and Porsche demonstrates that he’s scrappy, skilled, and absolutely impossible to keep down. Once Porsche has knocked the other guy down, Chan just sort of stands there, pinching his nose, like, Fantastic. Wonderful. Just what I want.

Chan then takes him to some sort of office? And has Porsche read and sign a contract – which is, to Porsche’s immediate relief, for a position as a part-time bodyguard. Then Chan drives him home.

Porsche started off the evening thinking he was going to lose his virginity to some rich asshole he scammed out of 150k baht. He’s ended it as a bodyguard working for the mafia. If he weren’t so fucking exhausted, he’d probably be more upset.

i have more, but i have to hold something back, you guys :P

[archer973]

I'm obsessed with the maulsokaspitefic snippet you posted! Where can I find it once posted? Is it posted?

Thank you so much! At the moment it is not posted, but rather haunting me through the floorboards of my hard drive. In general I've moved away from posting WIPs until they're finished, purely so I don't end up stricken by guilt in case I lose my inspiration halfway through.

However, now that I am done with the SW Valentine's Fest, I am back to working on The Spite Fic, so hopefully it will be ready to be posted soon! I post all of my work on AO3, and generally post a link on this account as well (which I definitely will with The Spite Fic, because I enjoy making the purity bloggers angry), which are all tagged ‘ruby writes fic’. But, because it makes me really happy when people are excited for my fic, I offer another snippet in thanks for your wonderfully kind words!

“Y'know, you have tried to kill me. Multiple times. It's not exactly unreasonable for me to be a little suspicious,” Ahsoka snapped, moving to cross her arms before remembering the myriad of ways that would hurt. Maul sighed, glancing back up at Ahsoka even as he began to slowly peel the faded bacta patches off of her thigh.

“I thought we agreed that I am not your enemy. Not at this moment.”

“Yes, well...” The tips of Maul's fingers brushed against the inside of Ahsoka's thigh, leaving a trail of warmth across the suddenly sensitive skin and sending a shiver up Ahsoka's spine that she violently repressed. “Things can change. I mean, you are a Sith.”

Maul paused, halfway through pulling up another bacta patch. Ahsoka tensed, all of her senses immediately snapping on alert. She suddenly realized how vulnerable she was, trapped in this room with Maul between her and the door, unarmed and wearing nothing but a too-big wrapped robe, every wound and weakness on display.

“I think,” Maul said after a moment, his voice strangely soft, “that I am no more a Sith now than you are a Jedi.”

I'll admit, it makes me super happy that people are looking forward to this fic, because I literally started writing it (in case the name didn't give it away) because someone sent me anon hate about how gross the ship was. And now not only do I have The Spite Fic - which will probably end up decently long, because Emotions(tm) (and smut) - but I also have plans for two more (also smutty) fics to follow it. So really, that anon is pretty much directly responsible for not one, but theoretically three fics 😈

[vesperstalksclones]

Wrecker x Mando Femme OC

The Naked Truth

(18 +) explicit

So this is a gratuitous smut snippet of a Wrecker centered Bad Batch story, post Order 66. But of course, I'm writing the juicy parts first lol. I wanted to post because who knows if I'll finish it, and tumblr needs some Wrecker smut! So, following is unprotected sex, a difficult first coupling, ample fondling, and one surprisingly gentle guy, which is still pretty rough since he's built like a draft horse.... and hung like one... 😳

Quick synopsis:

(OH please pardon my lazy editing, I forgot to go spell check my Mando'a, so I kriffed up a few things 🤨)

The crew have been hiring themselves out to make $$ to fuel the Maurauder, buy supplies, etc. They take a job as armed support for a Mandalorian cell on a rather obscure outer rim planet, who have been clashing with the local crime syndicate. He meets Kessa-Lan, a stoic female warrior with a knack for explosives and an excellent rifleman. Of course our big goofy boy is smitten instantly, but her voice! Its all husky and full of pepper (think like Demi Moore) and he is going to die from loving it. But.. she refuses to take her helmet or armor off in his presence, but not because of strict code; Kessa was injured badly several years ago when her village was attacked by several of the crime family's enforcers. The burns resulted in the loss of her right arm, and her neck, shoulder, and face on the right side are terribly scarred. She has no ear on that side, and half her face is covered by cybernetic skin, with a replacement eye as well. She grows her hair in to thick braids, woven with beads and mementos, so that the locks can hide some of the disfigurement. She is ashamed and afraid that he wouldn't be so enamored if he saw her properly. So some stuff happens… pew pew, boom, pew, etc,etc. Wrecker ends up captured by the crime syndicate's local cell, with a few of Kessa's Vode, and he recognizes their sigil as the group who destroyed Kessa's village and harmed her so terribly. He manages to trick them into bringing him to a meeting hall alone, so they don't use the others as human shields to keep him in check. He taunts the leader in to a one on one fight (they think he's heavily sedated) and when they've uncuffed him, he visits some terrible hell on the three odd dozen elites, but suffers serious injuries in the process. The Bad Batch finds him and rushes off planet to an old friend with a bacta tank and the medical skills to save him. Upon returning, the Batch proceeds to obliterate the criminals and Wrecker seeks out his love interest, hoping she is at least a little bit happy to see him.

 

       OOOOO Here's the good stuff OOOOO

Wrecker Circled her silently, looking her up and down with a quiet intensity. A few times he stilled, and she felt the calloused pads of his fingers ghost over a scar or a patch of freckles. Stopping behind her, his hands came to rest on her shoulders, thumbs caressing for a moment before they slid to her wrists and gently lifted her arms to the air. She felt him shift, no doubt examining them as he had done the rest of her, running his fingers along the lengths, assessing the differences between the one, flesh and bone, and the other, cold cybernetics. 

"Beautiful." He whispered so low she could barely make out the word.

"Hmmm?" 

"Beautiful, Mesh'la." He reached for her wrists again, raising her arms higher and positioning them around his neck, "You're a dream come to life." 

She leaned against him as his lips brushed her undamaged shoulder, nibbling a gentle path towards her neck. 

Retracing the path along her arms, he splayed his fingers wide and his great hands smoothed along her sides and over her hips, climbing up over her abdomen and ribs in slow circuits. When his lips reached her cheek, she turned her face, catching them with her own, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her torso, pulling her as flush against him as he could manage. He sighed into her mouth, kissing and licking at her softly. 

For a moment Kessa was able to appreciate that no matter how brutally strong this behemoth may be, he had an inherently gentle heart. She had half expected to be flung down and ravaged by Wrecker the moment she bared her skin to him, as eagerly as he had flirted with her and as hungry as his eyes always were. She certainly hadn't expected this sensual caressing as he savored her in his arms. Despite the tautness of every muscle she could feel against her back, and the slight tremor in his hands, he held himself quiet and steady.

He broke away from her, turning his gaze back down her body, thoroughly enjoying the view. He slumped backwards, leaning against the crude table, hands full of her breasts as he arched her against him, and she hissed as he toyed with the dark peaks of her nipples. He experimented for a few moments, weighing her in his hands, varying the force of his grasp, rolling and pinching at the buds until he found just the right movement to make her whimper.

"That's right Sugar, sing for me so I know what you like…." he growled low in her ear, his voice growing impossibly deeper. One of his massive paws had crept to the juncture of her thighs, and he traced the crease thoughtfully. "Spread your legs, Dala. I want to touch you". 

She obliged, wiggling her hips as she did so, feeling his hard member ride up against the small of her back. Wrecker hummed in appreciation, as his fingers crept into her warmth and, finding her slick and eager for him, dove right in. Seeking out the bundle of nerves at the front, he stroked with two fingers, trapping the delicate flesh and sending marvelous tingling sensations through her belly. 

"Remember… my tongue was here before…" he whispered, ".. but you hid the rest of you then, all tucked away in that armor and that helmet… killed me to have to listen to you through a moderator." The two fingers flexed and curled, and then plunged inside her, and she clamped around them with a ragged moan, her jaw dropping open from the sudden intrusion. " Kriffing hell! That's nice!" he gasped into her neck.

He thrust into her eagerly, dragging his thumb across her clit each time, spurred along by Kessa's mewls and cries. 

"Fuck! That voice ad'ika! Just listening t'ya could finish me!" He scraped his teeth along her jaw, and she could feel him trembling against her, his breath warm and moist at her ear. "So many times, all I could think was what you'll sound like when you take my cock."

She squirmed, rocking her hips and riding his hand. "Ah.. Wrecker! I want you inside me cy'aire, please!"

"Not yet, doll. Ladies first, then we'll see what happens." He couldn't ignore the burst of sensation brought on by her plea, begging for him to stuff himself between her thighs, and he couldn't help but to roll his hips against her, finding small satisfaction in rutting against her lower back.

"So tight, love. I'm giving you another…" he ground out hoarsely, before adding a third thick finger to her besh, groaning in satisfaction as she arched against him with a sob. "I'm so 'fraid I'll hurt you." 

He felt her relax after a few thrusts, her slick running down the back of his hand. Her sounds were growing more frantic, and she was moving against him with purpose… "Are you there Sugar? Give it to me doll, come for me…let it go..." he pleaded gently.

She pulled his hand roughly to her breast, and he massaged and plucked at her roughly, causing Kessa to yelp and tighten around his knuckles. He stroked her only a few more times before she stiffened and shuddered, giving a broken cry. Wrecker watched in awe as the climax washed over her features, feeling her body contract around his fingers, her nails scraping at his shoulders. He could have wept at the sight, her lashes fanned over her dark cheek… the slight chatter of her teeth as her head lolled against his shoulder.. She drew out such profound feelings in him, his beautiful, pepper voiced, warrior goddess… that is if he wasn't so insanely desperate to pound her 'til her bones rattled.

Chest heaving, Kessa made to move away and he withdrew carefully. She turned and plastered herself against his chest, beaming up at him, one soul-less cybernetic eye blazing red, the other an explosion of green and gold and brown, a swirl of starlit colors as stunning as the glowing gas nebulae he had seen in his travels. 

 "Now!" She gasped, breathless still, "I want you on top of me!"

"Hmmmm.. mesh'la I don't dare."

Her eyes widened in confusion.

"Kess'ika, there isn't a soft surface anywhere in here; I'd beat you to hell darlin. I know my strength and I know how stupid I'm gonna get." 

He rose from where he leaned against the rough work table, considering it carefully.

"But this'll do, I'll break this instead!" He shoved it back hard against the wall with a soft chuckle and turned to reach for her. She came to him eagerly, and he scooped her up, grinding her against  him a few times with a satisfied groan, and he deposited her on the surface. 

"You're ready for me?" He asked, drawing himself close between her legs.

"Um-hmm. Wrecker, take this off." She demanded gently, tugging at the skin tight black shirt he wore. He obligingly peeled it upwards and felt her hands on his skin before it cleared his shoulders. Flinging the garment away he admired the look on Kessa's face as she explored his chest and abdomen. 

"These look terrible." She whispered, her fingers ghosting over the newly healed blaster wounds. 

He gently butted his head against hers. "They're worth it if it means you sleep better at night." He grinned as he kissed her; she framed his face with her hands, deepening the kiss, and when he opened for her, Kessa's tongue brushed over his, making him see stars. 

He jerked his trousers down his thighs and pressed her backwards upon the bench. Wrecker grasped her knees, spreading her wide before him and rolled himself against her, gliding his rigid cock through her wetness for good measure. She pushed up on her elbows, watching him thoroughly wet himself, before fisting his member and aligning himself with her opening.

Seven hells, he was big, well proportionally correct anyway for a man the size of a mountain, and she realized his purpose in using his fingers first... it would have been difficult without some preparation. He pushed against her, gritting his teeth with strain. Her jaw fell slack as he stretched her, his rounded head easing its way in. 

"Is this alright cy'aire?" He hissed. "Hurts?"

He paused, shaking against her as he struggled with his overtaxed libido. 

"Yes, love, I'm alright," she held his gaze, wanting him to see clearly that she wasn't lying for his benefit. She groped for his hands where they held her hips tightly, clinging to them for stability. He continued to push in to her, pausing to withdraw and return to claim another inch of her space. Her muscles burned as she took him, but it wasn't unbearable and each gentle motion felt better than the last. 

"Give me all of you, Wrecker. I'm ready," She gasped. 

He watched her for a moment, sweat beading on his forehead from the tension, and then flexed his ass and plunged forward, landing flush against her thighs and she wailed under him.

"Fuck! Kessa, I'm sorry! I'll stop…" 

"No! Wrecker don't you dare!" She dug her nails into his wrists. "Just hold still a moment." She drew a deep breath willing her protesting muscles to relax, as he gently kneaded her hips.

"Kessa, we don't have to do this, love..."

"I'm ok cy'aire. It's just.. it's been a long, long time, and you're… well… you!" She gave a tug at both arms. 

"Again, just start slowly, I was made for this, you know."

"To be mated by a bantha??"

She burst out laughing, and his eyes rolled back in his head from the contractions it caused around his cock. 

"Jengo's bones woman! Kriffing HELL that feels amazing!"

"You said before you liked my voice enough to get off on it," She quipped, a coy look settling on her face.

"No doubt."

He stooped and kissed her hungrily, before bracing his palms on the table and tentatively moved his hips against her. Gradually he withdrew and then returned, filling her to bursting. She felt him drag against the most deliciously sensitive places, and each one sent hot electricity up her spine. Catching his honey brown eyes, she nodded and he quickened his movements, breathing raggedly from the sensations. 

"Kessa… " he uttered her name again and again, like a prayer. " Oh… Kessa... Gods… you feel so good, woman.. I can't…  I can't believe .. you let me … touch you like this!" Wrecker gasped, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "Wanted you for so damn long. Want you for myself… keep you…  My woman.."

"You'd better ruin every other cock for me then" she replied, the words turning in to breathy moans. 

With a sound somewhere between a groan and a snarl, he roughly gathered her up in his arms, his kiss pressing her into the table, his thighs slamming forward harshly against the wooden edges - and they were vaguely aware of the sound of something breaking. She mewled into his mouth, clawing at his back and neck, desperate to pull him closer than he already was. 

"Are you going to come on my cock, love?" He growled. She couldn't do much more than whimper. "Come on mesh'la, scream for me. Wanna feel you!" He reared up, cradling her hips in an iron grip as he rammed into her, feral noises curling from deep within his chest. Kessa dug her nails against the table, watching his member disappear within her again and again, shining with her slick. She knew that she only ever wanted him. No other man should ever have her this way. 

"Wrecker… I love you cy'aire, only you.. I'm yours however you want me.." she cried as her tension built, her release looming. "Come inside me cy'aire, I want you to…" something shattered within her and her climax washed over her. The world turned upside-down and the stars exploded in her eyes, and she screamed, just like he'd asked..

Seeing Kessa coming undone beneath him, her hot tight muscles contracting around him proved his undoing. A hard thrust, and another, and the third had him surging into her, her cries ringing in his ears; a more beautiful sound he had never heard, and his own climax claimed him, drawing blackness across his eyes. 

He didn't quite faint; he was still sailing on the ripples of the best orgasm he had ever had, and his vision slowly came to focus. Kessa was watching him with a look of immense satisfaction, like a proud loth-cat who had just eaten the proverbial song bird.. He was trembling still, with the occasional harsh shudder as she continued still to tighten and relax against his softening cock. 

He reached for her chin. "Kessa, did I hurt you sweetheart?"

"Yes." She groaned. "It was amazing. Do it again."

He wasn't quite sure what to make of that, when she grabbed his neck and pulled him down for a wet kiss.

 "I meant what I said. Wrec."

He grinned crookedly and kissed her back. "We need to find a proper bed darlin'. 

Pretty sure this pic is by Mollo101; whose Star Wars art is AMAZING!! Sorry so dark and melancholy, but there is a lack of Wrecker fanart out there!