#captain/lieutenant

[astralbondpro]

Star Trek: The Next Generation // S02E21: Peak Performance

[slater-baby]

Lieutenant Price who can’t keep his eyes off of you at the bar, cheeks red with heat and want that he can’t even begin to tame

Lieutenant Price who takes an extra shot of rum before shooting his shot

“This seat taken?”

“Depends,” you reply, looking over the clean-shaven man who stands before you, “You buying?”

Lieutenant Price who wrings his hands behind his back as he confidently asks you out, right up until you say ‘yes’

Lieutenant Price who tries his best to be a gentleman when he gets between the sheets.

Lieutenant Price who groans and grunts as he feeds his cock into your cunt, trying with every ounce of his will not to shove himself in up to the hilt before you’re stretched and ready

“Mm—god, darling,” he manages, shaking with the force it takes to hold himself back, “You’re so tight…god, I can fuckin’ see myself in your stomach…”

…

Captain Price who isn’t afraid to let his eyes linger on you when he takes u to the bar with his boys—likes it when you know that he’s always watching, that he’s always hungry

Captain Price who buys you an extra shot of rum before pulling you into his lap in the middle of the bar, feeding it to you while he blows cigar smoke out the side of his mouth

“C’mon, darling,” he drawls, “Drinks on me. Another one won’t hurt.”

Captain Price who brazenly slips his hands under the waistband of your pants right then and there, rasping a slow invitation back to his place while he pushes his fingers in and out of your slick folds

Captain Price who’s so far gone he can’t act like a gentleman anymore

Captain Price who hustles you into the bar’s bathroom and hastily locks the door, before he all but rips his belt out of his belt loops

Captain Price who holds you down against the bathroom countertop. He bullies his aching dick into your swollen pussy, yanking you by the hair just to keep you in place underneath him

“Sit still, love,” he spanks you, grabbing a harsh handful of your ass right after, “Behave, and I might just let you lick me clean when this is all over.”

[bluegiragi]

holding back (part 2)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[blitzink]

a huge project i’ve been working on all semester!

Star Wars The Clone Wars Poster Collection<3

[demaparbat-hp]

The Crew is boisterous and loud, full of traitors, inside jokes, and secrets. The scum of the Fire Nation. The forgotten tiles on the Empire's Pai Sho board. The ones who change the game.

But most importantly—they're a family. And no matter how much they complain about their boss (teenage menace that he is), they'll do anything for their Prince.

Anything.

.

The Crew is the heart and soul of my fic For the Spirits. No one really knows just how important they will be to the story...how important they already are.

[kirkhasakink]

We are now enterning the "edgy" universe. And as you may have seen in my ig stories, I'm working on a new short comic... keep an eye on June 11th. I think these were March's ST sticker club. PS: sorry, I couldn't help myself but to make "Edgy Bones" like a doctor that actually doesn't gives a crap about you and anyone hshshshs

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Battlestar Galactica movie poster art by Robert Tanenbaum (1978)

[ocean-irl]

Thinking about how Thomas and the Captain are two sides of the same coin.

Both are inept in their chosen fields, but they put their heart and soul into it. Each is mocked by (most of) his peers, but yearns for their respect.

One lives in a world that encourages him to embrace emotional expression and individuality; the other lives in a world that forces him to repress them, stripping him of all identity but his rank.

Each of them is loved by someone who finds his idiosyncrasies charming, even as everyone else laughs. And yet, the pursuit of this love leads each to an ignominious death.

The Captain dies having learned that his feelings are requited, with Havers by his side. Thomas dies alone, believing that Isabelle no longer loves him.

They are a soldier who died from a broken heart, and a poet who died from a gunshot.

[golyadkin]

Redraw of an oldy in light of final series developments

[aliettali]

what a creature

[boggsart]

Here’s what I’ve been cooking up in the past month🙂‍↔️

Credits go to @highgroundanimations for creating 3 of my most favorite characters ever ( and thanks for letting me bring my vision to life 🫶🏻)

[octopiys]

Thinking about King!Soap who can defend himself if he wants to, but he's lowkey getting tired of consistently arguing with his council and members of other kingdoms.

So he goes out and finds the worst court jester he possibly can.

Jester!Ghost who's only a court jester because he's seeing how close he can toe the line before he's executed. He's okay at being funny, but he just ends up insulting everyone he encounters.

King!Soap who nabs him by the scruff of his neck and pulls him to the palace like a wet cat he found on the street.

Ghost is just like "okay, I can deal with this" until MacTavish brings him into a council meeting, knowing that he's not gonna keep his mouth shut, and when another king from a much smaller kingdom says something to put the king down like:

"You know.... I could've easily taken the kingdom when you were all dangly legged and know-nothing.... but yet I still work with you. You've succeeded because l-"

"So you're a pussy is what you're saying." Ghost says at the other end of the table, and a tense hush falls over the room. All eyes look between the jester and the other king, and the other king opens his mouth to have the jester executed, when King MacTavish breaks the silence with a heavy, true laugh.

Like shoulders shaking, chest heaving, gasping laughs erupt from the king, and he knew then and there that he was keeping this jester. Jesus christ, he hasn't laughed in so long.

So whenever MacTavish has some bullshit meeting, the Jester is brought in to put the council back in his place. Now, of course, as much as MacTavish wants to say it all himself, he thoroughly enjoys the looks on their faces when they figure out they can't make the King do their bidding to get what they want, for fear of being socially ruined by his court jester.

[skauni]

They Had The Wrong Traitor….

!!WARNINGS!!: Torture, Explicit Descriptions, Gained Trauma, No Happy Ending.

They didn’t know.

How were they SUPPOSED to know..?

Two months ago, Task Force 1-4-1 realized they had a traitor amongst themselves. Someone giving information about them to Shadow Company. They didn’t know who, until all signs started to point to you. Since then has been hell.

They tied you to a cold metal chair with ropes so tight they rubbed your ankles and wrists raw. You still remembered the day it started. Waking up with a splitting headache in the cold, dim lighted, concrete room. A table in front of you. On it you saw a hammer, pliers, a metal bat, sets of knives—even a damn corkscrew.

That first day was hell. You shrieked at the top of your lungs that you were innocent as your main tormentor, Ghost, broke your fingers slowly. Knuckle. By. Knuckle. When you still didn't confess he took the pliers and slowly ripped your nails from your broken and mangled fingers. Making you scream louder in agony.

The rest of the days blurred. Hardly any food or water; just barely enough to keep you alive. Every time a wound scarred they re-opened it. Soap held your jaw open today as Ghost slowly ripped out your teeth. Your voice long gone from hours of shrieking before this. No fight left in you when their radio's crackled to life. "Soap, Ghost, hall. Now." Price spoke. His voice sounded uneasy.

When they left you tilted your head forward. Letting the blood from your removed teeth drip slowly from your lips. It was painful to breathe. Bruised, cracked, and maybe even broken ribs and a broken nose they kept targeting so it never healed. A broken hand and forearm from three harsh strikes of the hammer. Several deep gashes from some of the knives Ghost used on you. A dislocated kneecap from being bashed in by the metal bat.

You couldn’t hear what they talked about out in the hall. But you knew it was something shocking based on the dead silence that came after Price’s muffled voice. In all honesty, over these two months, you started thinking it was your fault this happened to you. Thinking it was your fault you were framed; you just made yourself too easy a target to frame as the traitor.

You heard rushing feet and the sound of vomiting in the trash can down the hall. You guessed Gaz since you heard Soap ask Price something, you heard Price’s gruff grunt and Ghost’s Manchester accent as he swore under his breath. Your eyes fluttered in exhaustion but snapped open on instinct as you heard the door open again. They’d caught the real traitor, a newer recruit who had everyone wrapped around her finger.

Price had entered the room.

“I didn’t do it…” You whispered hoarsely. Your captain nodded. “I know, Y/N… I know…” he whispered softly. You flinched as he unsheathed his knife from its holster, he moved slowly as he cut your hands and legs free. He tried to pick you up but you cried out. He carefully set you back down and radioed for a few medics. They arrived a short while later as Price kept you awake to be sure you couldn’t slip away before everyone could apologize at the very least.

The medics came soon enough and moved you carefully onto a gurney so as to avoid shattering any bones further. They moved you to the med bay as fast as possible to get your wounds tended to and disinfected. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price all sat outside of the med bay as they listened to your agonized shrieks and whales of pain from the medics setting your already healing knuckles back in place.

It took a few hours after your corrective knee surgery for the boys to be allowed to finally see you. The medics said you’d be out for a few days so your body could regain a small bit of strength. None of the team wanted to leave your side. They all had set themselves up so they could sleep by the cot the medics placed you on. In and out, they would individually go on missions or go in pairs so two of them could still keep their eyes on you incase you woke up.

A few days turned into a few weeks. And you finally woke up. But not as easily as the team would have wished. A cold sweat soaking your forehead as you groaned in agony in your sleep until you woke up shrieking and tried to curl into yourself for comfort, only causing yourself more pain. The boys had to pin you down so the medic could inject the pain killer.

Through the times you were awake, you refused to let any of them remotely try to touch you. They could see it. The distance you put between yourself and them. The distrust in your eyes. The anger and hurt in your furrowed brow. You had trusted them with your life. And now you were beginning to think you should have never let your guard down. Not for one damn second. But a small part of you thought it was somehow your own fault…

Gaz spent the most time with you. No touching, just trying to get you to talk. Even if in anger. He was slowly piecing your trust in him back together bit by bit. When physical therapy came around you asked him to help you because your knee hurt too much to do it alone and the medic seemed busy with another soldier. The rest of the team saw this, beginning to hope they had a chance at forgiveness as well. They weren’t aware that you never forgave Gaz. You just trusted him enough to count him as a person you will let help you. Not a friend. And not a teammate. Not anymore.

Soap was the second to earn the right to help you, then Price not too long after that. Ghost… was a different story. All he did was glare at you, as if he still thought you were the traitor. To which you returned the hostility. He hadn’t let it show, but he was devastated. He wished he’d have never believed that false evidence. He couldn’t even look at you because all he saw was his work etched into your body. That was why he glared. It wasn’t meant for you, it was directed at his work that scarred your body.

When you could walk on your own without crutches, you went to Price in the break room where everyone was. Expression cold and dead serious as you handed him resignation papers. He froze. “You can’t… we need you on this team Y/N—“ he started but you cut him off. “Need? Or want me here because you loathe yourselves so much you need me to reassure you that you’re forgiven with my presence?” He staggered back. “I never forgave any of you.” You added.

“There isn’t a day we’ve woken up without regretting—“ he tried again. “You don’t get to play that card! Do you know how many times I woke up crying in agony from wounds that are already healed because of you four!? Oh, or how about the fact I can’t stand to be touched by ANYONE anymore!” You snapped back. “Y/N…” Price started to beg. “No. I hate you. All of you. For what you did to me. Don’t even contact me. If you have something to tell me, keep it to yourselves.”

The team was silent. You walked to your barracks and packed. Booked a flight back to your hometown. And walked out the doors of the base. Giving none of them the time of day to apologize or try to fix things between you and them. You hadn’t even told them you neglected to sleep most nights out of fear someone would come out of the shadows and beat you half to death again…

[forecast0ctopus]

more star trek sketches lmao

[masterofiodine]

they lived happily ever after

[blondie-drawings]

captain, there's a problem in engineering. no wait sorry, there's a problem with the engineer (silly text post version!🌻)