#the formatting on tumblr is shite

[1roentgen]

.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Four on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

John's eyes shift around the small distillery office, as if he somehow missed Simon lurking behind the door (he may have. Silent as the grave, that one) before he gives into the urge to tap the number at the top of his screen, letting his touch linger as he adds the contact. Even this - even just this - makes his tongue feel heavy in his mouth, his palms big and clumsy. He wants to lick his phone, is pissed when he can't smell her. It feels like snuffling for mushrooms and finding only arid dust and dirt. It is so much more than he had even just an hour ago, but it is not enough.

Note: a lot of this chapter is texting which I struggled to format on Tumblr's goddawful limited HTML. I've opted to display them as chats, but because Reader chapters are second person, I didn't want John's texts to appear as if they are coming from 'you.' So apparently he has himself saved on his phone as 'Price.' Bear with me. Do definitely recommend reading on AO3, it just looks a little better. okay anyway, hope you enjoy!

Unknown Number

Unknown number: Good morning. Thanks for last night, I had a lot of fun!

Unknown number: Also, wanted to ask, as a seasonal local and therefore, I assume, an expert in local fauna, would you say this bear is insanely big or is that normal?

John smirks at the attached photo of himself, docile and friendly as he stares blankly back at the camera; big stupid animal eyes deceptively sweet. It had been hard to behave in that form, but it had been a cold night and he'd wanted to be sure she wasn't frozen stiff in her pathetic little den. He was coming to hate that thing, simultaneously teasing him with its threateningly mobile nature and infuriatingly abysmal quality. He wanted to bring her back to his own den, bury her in thick, warm blankets. Maybe tie her to the posts so he could sleep easy knowing she wasn't going to slip away the moment he closed his eyes. But he couldn't (yet), so he stalks her in his animal form and tells himself it's for her own good and he's satisfied with that.

But now.

Now.

John's eyes shift around the small distillery office, as if he somehow missed Simon lurking behind the door (he may have. Silent as the grave, that one) before he gives into the urge to tap the number at the top of his screen, letting his touch linger as he adds the contact. Even this - even just this - makes his tongue feel heavy in his mouth, his palms big and clumsy. He wants to lick his phone, is pissed when he can't smell her. It feels like snuffling for mushrooms and finding only arid dust and dirt. It is so much more than he had even just an hour ago, but it is not enough.

Bunny: Also is it normal that it just chilled in the parking lot all morning, or should I maybe be worried it's rabid?

Price: Never seen a grizzly that close before so I'm not sure, but I think that's a big one! That's awesome.

Probably not rabid. Some of them have gotten a little too comfortable with humans. Good thing you were in your car, though!

And then, because he's greedy:

Price: Hiking this morning?

Bunny: Well, not anymore 😂

John is antsy, whole body restless. He wants to shift into his other form, or maybe pull a tooth out of his head. He's not hard, but the urge to stroke his cock is there regardless, an ingrained stress relief that won't help him here, he knows. Not without her, at least.

Bunny: What are you up to today?

He wants to spend all day deciding if he likes her better as a fleshlight or a chew toy. Unfortunately…

Price: Interviews all morning and then meeting with a potential vendor later. Boring shite.

Price: You?

Bunny: Probably just reading or something. Boring shit.

He imagines her cozied up in her cute little den: soft, worn quilts and a soft, warm girl. He wants to crawl in with her, change the chemical makeup of the very air until she has to breath him in, too; let her deal with the torture of his scent same as he's done for her. His fingers are heavy on his screen again. He hopes she's kept his coaster. He hopes he's tainting her phone. He hopes the aggression with which he's digging his big greedy claws into her life is enough to make her stay.

Price: Sounds lovely.

Price: Trade you?

Bunny: Haha! Sure, I can definitely handle vendor meetings. No problem.

Price: Cute thing like you, I'm sure you'd be a natural.

Bunny: Well if that's all it takes, I'm sure you'll do great 😉

John can't help the happy chuff that escapes him. It's not an entirely human sound but he doesn't particularly care if Simon is lurking right this moment.

Price: Thanks, honey.

Price: What are you doing tomorrow?

Bunny: Hmm. Don't know. You tell me?

Price: Let's square up, yeah? Get you that coffee.

Price: There's a place over on Nucleus that's pretty good.

Bunny: Sounds great! What time?

Price: Early okay? I'll have to be back to work by 1400

Bunny: Sure. 10?

Price: See you then, bunny.

He finds Simon in the brewery. John held off investing in the equipment for years, refusing to tank the 141 just because Americans thought IPAs were good beers. Blessedly, the last year or so had shown people coming to their senses, ordering porters, lagers, and shandies more often than not. Simon had been elated (or rather, quite stoic but the mask had raised about a half inch on his face which meant the cheeks underneath were slightly dimpled) and had been obsessively perfecting a house ale ever since.

"Need you to take the lunch shift tomorrow." John would feel bad for the last minute schedule change if it were anyone else, but Simon doesn't really have a life outside of work or the gym, so he can deal.

As predicted, Simon just nods in acceptance. "Coffee?"

"Affirm. Also want you to sit in on the barkeep interview."

That gets a rise. "Why?"

"Distracted," John shrugs.

Simon's sigh is a full body thing. "This better not become a normal thing."

"I'll keep it in mind. Thirteen hundred, corner booth reservation." John may take some small pleasure in the other man's grunt of acknowledgement.

***

John hires the first three interviewees on the spot. One's a wait staff vet who he's confident can handle her own on the floor. The other two are young but seem competent and need to start their careers somewhere. Between them and his returning staff, he feels confident in the floor team but with Gaz back in uni, he needs a new barkeep which could make or break their season. They'll get tourists either way, but John prides himself on being one of the few seasonal shops that attracts a fair amount of locals which he knows he owes to Gaz's amiable and experienced presence. Without him, John's anxious to pick a suitable replacement, especially if he'll be busy wooing a mate all season.

He's prescreened a fair few, but only scheduled two interviews. He's hoping he'll be able to call the other lady tonight to tell her no need. It's a dick move but he's busy. Besides, she's very professional and he's confident she'll get another position soon - she's just a little too serious for his place.

Simon comes in through the kitchen and slides into the booth ahead of schedule. John is still waiting by the entry to let the man in when he shows up. The two men nod in greeting.

"Wot's the bloke's name, then?" Simon asks after a few moments.

"John MacTavish. Said to call him Soap."

"That's stupid." A pause while Simon's fingers thud against his phone screen. "'e a Scott?"

John isn't sure how Simon can always find people's social media, given he doesn't have any of his own. "Problem?"

"Not so long as he speaks the King's. How'd you manage to find another Brit anyway?"

"At this point I think they're finding me."

As if on queue, John spots the man in question ambling down the sidewalk. He's larger than John had expected, not quite as tall as John himself but decently muscled. Sharp blue eyes and a confident, charming grin. And a fucking mohawk of all things. His first instinct, oddly, is to keep this man away from his bunny, but close on its heels is the urge to make Simon deal with this smarmy bastard every day and he can't quite fight the grin creeping onto his face as he unlocks the door for the man.

Thankfully, Soap seems to take it for a welcoming smile, which he returns brightly as he extends a hand in greeting. "Price, I assume? Good to meet ye."

"Likewise, always nice to put a face to a name." John locks the door behind them again and ushers Soap to the big booth with a practiced, 'Please, step into my office.'

Simon, predictably, does not rise to greet the interviewee, instead choosing to stare Soap down balefully without so much as a nod of acknowledgement.

"Soap, my head brewer, Simon. Simon, this is John MacTavish."

To John's surprise - and, apparently, more so to Simon's surprise (which is a whole new surprise in itself because Simon is never caught off guard) - Soap slides into the opposite booth and extends his hand to Simon in one smooth move, face the very image of 'I see what you're doing here but I'm not entertaining it so play nice.'

Simon continues to stare for a beat longer, two, before accepting Soap's hand in a singular, gruff, suitably manly shake. When they separate, Soap is grinning like an idiot as he informs Simon about his preferred nickname.

"Not calling you that."

Soap shrugs, completely unaffected. "Well, 'bout to get real confusin' in here, then," he smiles at John.

"No worries, he calls me captain."

"Only when you've earned it." Despite the words, the insult is clear enough that even Soap smirks conspiratorially, eager to be let in on the joke.

John allows some more banter. It's useful in that it draws both the other men out of their respective shells. Simon becomes ever so slightly more professional, while Soap becomes quite a bit less. It's good, though, to see him relaxed in this space. This is the side that John had wanted to see, considering this is the side the customers would be dealing with. It's a good fit, and he's already feeling confident in his choice when they move onto drink choices. He knows he's got his man when Simon nods exactly once at an answer regarding crawfish of all things.

There's more handshakes, promises to be in touch. John locks up behind Soap and turns to find Simon staring after the man. "Well?"

Simon shrugs. "'e'll do."

John nods, eyes his right hand man critically. He knows Simon well enough to spot the difference between natural and affected stoicism. "We planning on selling crawfish this year?"

Simon shrugs again. An obvious tell; the man doesn't make inefficient movements more than twice an hour. "Wanted to stump him." John waits for him to elaborate, a venture he would lose any other day but… "'e's solid."

Well. He'd hoped the Scott would rile Simon's temper, but this might be better.

"Settled, then. I'll have him start next week."

Whether or not this pleases Simon, he doesn't say, simply turns and walks back out through the kitchen. Sighing, John checks the time and is glad to find he's running right on schedule, but upset there are no text notifications. It's probably unreasonable considering she only just gave him her number this morning, but good mates check in on each other and the lack of questions about his interviews leaves him a bit bereft. Still, he follows her lead and pockets his phone without sending any prompts of his own. It's difficult to keep his human suit on whenever she's involved, but he doesn't want to scare her away so he'll behave, even if it makes him want to eat a whole beehive, stingers and all.

***

The trip out to Whitefish is easy enough. John drives the company van to look more professional, but the smell bothers him and he's slightly agitated the whole meeting. The woman doesn't seem to mind. He's fairly certain she's flirting. It would probably be in his best interest to return fire a bit, but the thought makes his stomach roll and his teeth clench. In the end it doesn't really matter. They set up a small supply and she asks if he'd be interested in them featuring one of the blends in a house special. Bourbon ginger with orange. Very basic but the blend she chooses for it isn't right and it's a struggle not to bite her head off over it. He gives his input and she accepts which appeases him, but as he's leaving she winks and asks if he'd like to stay and give the drink a taste test. The rumbling noise he makes at that is a growl, technically, but he plays it off like a groan. Which isn't much better, probably, but at least it's human.

"No thanks. Gotta make it back for the dinner rush."

"Your place, then?" She's smirking, proud of herself. She smells like cleaning supplies.

It's out before he can think about it, "Sure, if you'd like to meet the missus."

The vendor splutters, surreptitiously inspects his hand. "I - I'm so sorry, I didn't realize -."

"Unofficial," Price quickly recovers. "Still committed." Christ, they haven't even been on a date yet, he needs to get his bloody act together.

"Well. She's a very lucky woman," the vendor simpers and John tries not to snort as he collects his things. Yeah, lucky rabbit, caught in his jowls while he assesses exactly how hard he can squeeze without losing her.

Attempting a warm smile, John thanks her for her time and hurries out the door. In the van, he checks his phone and scowls when his rabbit still hasn't initiated a conversation. He can't help it this time, shoots her something about the meeting with the vendor going well but he'd still rather have traded places. He doesn't take it personally when she doesn't respond right away, and then very much does take it personally when she still hasn't responded by the time he returns to the bar. He's surprised to find it open, Simon scowling at him from behind the counter. "You're late," the man accuses and John just smirks at him.

"And you still opened on time?" Simon doesn't react. Unfortunately, the alone time seems to have done him good. Still, John tries a little harder because he's antsy and wants a rise out of someone. "Angling for a good review?"

Not even so much as a 'well someone has to care about this place.' Damn.

"You staying on in the kitchen or heading out?"

"Seen enough of this place," Simon grumbles and slips out the back.

John spends a long boring shift talking with a pair of locals about fishing. He doesn't really go fishing in this form, but he knows his fair share about where to find what fish. It's the quiet sort of night he would have savored even just a few weeks ago, but every hour that goes by without a response from his rabbit has him growing more and more restless. He's not worried about her deciding to hike even with that bear around, of course, but there are plenty of other fates that could have befallen her. Poor rabbit, alone in the woods. Even her den was a dangerous thing, prone to crashes and gas poisoning depending on how she kept it heated. Or worse, if she kept it heated. He swears to all that's holy if he ends up losing her to hypothermia even though he's big and furry and feverish and right bloody here, he's going to lose it.

It's late when she finally deigns to respond. Like, 2300 late. He can't decide if he's more relieved or annoyed so he chooses to be excited instead.

Bunny

Price: For the record, I did win over the vendor.

Price: Still wish I could've been doing boring shite like reading all day.

Bunny: I never doubted you

Bunny: Howd the interview go?

Price: Good. Got some new waitstaff. Happy with the bartender.

Price: How'd not-hiking go?

Bunny: Boring as predicted. Put a good dent in this blanket though!

She sends a photo of a beautiful crocheted blanket, the rows zigzagging in a strange psychedelic pattern which is toned down by the easy earthy tones she's chosen.

Good mate, staying warm. Now all she needs is someone to snuggle up with.

Price: You made that?

Price: That's brilliant.

Bunny: Thank you! 😁

Bunny: I'm about to go cuddle up under it though so goodnight! Glad everything went well today

Bunny: I'll see you tomorrow

Price: Sleep well honey.

Next>>

[oukabarsburgblr]

Not sure if you have answered but when do you plan to upload the official plot? Will it on here or a different platform??

The first chapter might be out on september as well since i alr wrote like 80% of it BUT BUT BUT....

I just realised i have no idea how to (ape susun english ek) arrange it in a way. Like??? Backstory first??? Just a brief intro first??? How do i slip into the backstory then???? FFF ARGH i need to read other fics first to get inspo

But i have to say to everyone, if ure looking for smut in the official plot then theres little to none, like prolly in the later chapters but in the earlier ones are just gonna be emotional wreckage yuh.

And there is an endgame lmao

Where shall i post it! I was thinking on tumblr too but the formatting here is SHITE for long fics and this one might be long, 20 chapters prolly SO IDK HM

Ill prolly post both here and on ao3 as well, ill link my acc later but ill deffo make an announcement/on my pinned post later.

I did not expect ppl to be interested in the official plot tbh. Thank you for asking😊

[pedrostories]

PedroStories Secret Santa event 2022

Dear Fanfic writers and readers,

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[comfy-whumpee]

I would give my firstborn child to see Jax testifying against Savvie

Finally coming for Anon's firstborn, sorry for the wait. Also sorry about any weird formatting, tumblr forced me to use the new editor and it's shite. As always, written with the help of Savvie's writer @ashintheairlikesnow

CN: implied noncon, emotional and physical abuse, medical malpractice, broken bones, victim blaming.

@bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektricwhumpktric-whump, @that-one-thespianan, @raigash, @burtlederp, @rosesareviolentlyreadread, @eatyourdamnpears

-

THE CLERK: Thank you, sir. You may be seated. Please lean forward into the mic and keep your voice up, for the record. Can you state your name and spell your last name for me, please?

THE WITNESS: Jackson Gallagher. G-A-L-L-A-G-H-E-R.

THE CLERK: Thank you.

"She tried to get that corrected," he mutters. "They told her to shut up."

BY MR ROOKS:

Q. Good morning, Mr Marcoset.

"See? She told him to do that."

MX. WHITE: Could the witness be referred to by his legal name, please?

THE COURT: Yes. The witness will be referred to as Mr Gallagher.

BY MR ROOKS:

Q. Good morning, Mr Gallagher.

A. Good morning.

“Took him a while to get to the point, that day. And it was a stupid point. Delay tactic.

Q. Mr Gallagher, is it true that you were alone in Mrs Marcoset’s home on multiple occasions when she went out?

A. Yes.

Q. Is it true that you were not told what she was doing on those trips?

A. Yes.

Q. Is it true that you spent periods of time in a separate part of the house to her, unaware of what she was doing?

A. She locked me in the basement sometimes, yes.

Q. Even that aside, Mr Gallagher, is it true that you cannot be sure of what she was doing at all times?

A. Yes.

“See. Load of crap just to get to the point.”

Q. In that time, is it possible she could have met with other man?

A. I guess. Yes.

Q. And did these trips continue throughout 20XX, before Mrs Marcoset announced her pregnancy?

A. –Yes.

Q. Can you be certain, Mr Gallagher, that you are the father of her children?

A. I’m certain. You can ask her yourself.

“She was so fucking offended. But she knew why it was done. They ordered the paternity tests after that, and that was another fucking week gone.”

BY MX WHITE:

Q. Good morning, Mr Gallagher.

A. Good morning.

Q. How was your arm broken?

A. It was a few months before she – Savvie – said she was pregnant with Isabella. I was taken to visit her uncle, Isaac Marcoset. He asked her to bring me, she said. When we arrived I was taken to a room, with the people he called staff all lined up inside.

Q. For clarity, Mr Gallagher, what do you mean by ‘the people he called staff’?

A. I met a lot of people who worked in the house. They were called staff, but I never saw them being paid or leaving the property, and some of them said they were born there.

Q. Thank you, Mr Gallagher. Please continue. What happened when you were brought before the staff?

A. Isaac took my arm in both hands and broke it. I hadn’t seen him in a while, I didn’t know what it was about. I gave him lip, of course – the others all looked scared and I wanted to make them feel better. It hurt a lot. But I told him he wasn’t so big and scary. He pushed me into the wall for that and yanked on my arm till it came out the shoulder.

Q. Were you given medical treatment?

A. Yeah, Stewart set my shoulder.

Q. By Stewart, are you referring to the Box Boy owned by Isaac Marcoset, designated Fifteen?

A. Well, yeah, but can I call him Stewart? He was only ever called the steward when I was there, but I thought I should call him by a real name. I’ve been a number before and it’s important, having your name. He liked it.

Q. I understand. Let the record show that ‘Stewart’ refers to Fifteen.

MR ROOKS: Could the Box Boy be referred to with his legal name, please? As we have settled the matter of using legal or chosen names in the court.

“That pissed me off. But the lawyer told me later it probably backfired ‘cause I never managed it on the first try. Stewart is Stewart. Made me look like a good guy, to humanise him like that.”

BY MX WHITE:

Q. Did you receive any other treatment?

A. They took me to a doctor who knew about me being a captive. He cast the arm and gave me painkillers.

Q. Did he give the painkillers to you directly?

A. No, actually. He gave them to Savvie.

Q. Describe your access to pain relief through your recovery period.

A. It was – erratic. Savvie controlled when I ate and slept, and she took over that too. She didn’t let me touch them. I was told to stay in the bed, her bed in her bedroom, and she would bring them over when the alarm went off. But most times she’d say I had to kiss her first, or ask if I really wanted them, before she let me have them. Or she’d forget. I’d remind her if she was there, but if she wasn’t, there was nothing I could do. A few times she’d be in a bad mood and say she was too upset to get them, or I’d get them if I apologised to her. One time I remember, she turned off the alarm. I could see the sun and I knew it was time. But when I asked her, she said it wasn’t time yet. She asked if it hurt, and then she told me I had to lift it see if it could go higher than yesterday.

Q. Who took over your household work during that time?

A. Hannah. She’d come by a few times a week and work on cleaning the whole house, same as I had to. I spoke to her a bit. She had a collar, same as me.

Q. How did Ms Marcoset react?

A. She was furious. The first time I met Hannah, she was out. When she came home she grabbed my arm, the broken arm, and squeezed it as hard as she could. She said I wasn’t like the others, I wasn’t staff. Because she loved me. I told her she was hurting me, the pain was – I can’t describe it. Really f- really bad.

Q. Did Ms Marcoset realise she was hurting you?

A. Yes. You could see it in her eyes. They went wide, and – and her breathing picked up, like she was excited. When I said she was hurting me, she said she knew. I asked her why. She said – because I can. Because I want to.

“God, Jax.”

“…Yeah.”

Q. Did she release you?

A. Eventually. She made me wait. I thought I was going to be sick, or pass out. I couldn’t breathe right. She just told me to look at her. She said, she said I should be able to hurt a, a little. For her. I had, she left nail tracks on my arm. It was out of the cast, I don’t think I said. She dug her nails in so hard I had lines of blood. Those ones didn’t scar. I have a lot on my back, from her, but – a lot of nail scratches on my back. They weren’t the only ones.

“It gets worse.”

BY MR ROOKS:

Q. You told the court that you were treated by a doctor, Mr Gallagher. Are you referring to Dr Russell Leppelman?

A. Yes, I think that’s him.

Q. Is it true you were taken to him by Mrs Marcoset for that treatment, immediately after you were injured by Isaac Marcoset?

A. Yes. Stewart, uh, Fifteen told her to.

Q. Is it true that Dr Leppelman provided you with a cast, painkillers and a treatment plan?

A. Well he refused at first. He called me a pet. But—

Q. Did he treat you?

A. He did, yes.

Q. Is it true that he treated you in private, away from Mrs Marcoset?

A. Yes.

Q. Did he ask whether you had any allergies?

A. Yes.

Q. Did he perform a wellbeing check?

A. What does that mean?

Q. Did he ask after your personal safety and mental health?

A. Yes.

Q. Did he act unprofessional towards you in any way?

A. Not in the treatment.

Q. So you were separated from Mrs Marcoset, alone, with a healthcare professional who was attending to your wellbeing and health, but you did not ask him to help you escape the captivity you claimed?

A. I did, actually.

“She didn’t know about that bit. Figured they’d ask it, they asked it about every time I admitted to meeting another fucking soul.”

A. I told him I was a slave, and he said I should call myself lucky I wasn’t treated like the others. He said I was a pet. He said he played golf with Isaac and none of his people dressed as nice as the clothes I had on. I asked if I got patient confidence and he said yes, unless I was rude, basically.

Q. So you had patient confidence, and you asked him for help?

A. I asked him if he would help me and he said he wouldn’t.

Q. He invited you to share what you wanted in patient confidence, is that true?

A. Yes, true enough. I asked if she was on birth control because I was worried about kids. That surprised him. He said she wouldn’t keep her kids as slaves.

Q. Did he provide you with that information?

A. He told me she was. I asked if he knew about the other slaves, the staff. He said he knew. But he said she wouldn’t hurt her own kids.

Q. Why do you consider that an unreasonable belief?

A. He knew her. He said, what did you expect from a Marcoset? He knew her dad and her uncle, he knew about the staff and that some of them were blood relatives.

Q. That has not been proven. Did you actually ask him for help escaping captivity?

A. I did. I could see he didn’t like the idea of her having kids. He knew that would be bad. So I said, if eventually she goes off birth control, and there are kids now, would he help? He told me not to worry about it.

Q. Is it true that he did offer to help, although he believed it would not happen?

A. Not really. He said I was playing for pity. He said I should be good and, lie back, and think of England, and put up with it. He said I should try harder to make her happy with me. He said, specifically said, he wouldn’t tell anyone about me.

Q. Dr Leppelman said he would help, in the situation you imagined, if he believed the children would benefit from his intervention. Is that true?

A. Yes. But—

Q. So did you ask for help escaping from captivity for yourself?

A. No, because he told me before that point that he wouldn’t. He also hit me. Twice.

Q. Is it true that he explained his family was under threat?

A. He mentioned it. He said I wasn’t worth it.

Q. Do you consider it unreasonable for him to prioritise his family over a stranger?

A. Not me. But he knew about the child slaves. He should have at least done something for those kids.

Q. But is it true that you did not ask for help for your own sake, Mr Gallagher?

A. Yeah.

Q: Thank you.

“There you go. One page out of a fuckin’ hundred. Do you get the picture?”

Kieran set the transcript down. “Thank you for sharing that with me, love. I don’t think that was easy for you.”

“Nah. But it’s been…bloody hell. Ten years. You never looked it up even once. You of all people should get to know.”

Jax finally stops pacing, settling down on the sofa next to his partner. Kieran holds still, letting him lean close.

“Izzy’s probably read it all five times over, anyway,” Jax adds, and Kieran surprises himself by being able to smile.

[werewolfetone]

Obsessed with the fact that sir richard's tract about how Edmund Burke is evil and wrong about everything not because his ideas are such shite but because his mum was a catholic is literally formatted exactly like a tumblr callout post

[asexualdindjarin]

Heya 1,2 and 44 for the ask meme xD with slight difference if it didnt become meme which gif you think would become such 😁

oh god I did most of this answer with links and everything and then my laptop crashed

1 - 3 favourite gifsets

Usually ones I like are flops notes wise but I had a good time at least. My favourites are this one of EEAAO because I don't really know how to blend shit properly but this turned out okay, this one of Raylan and Loretta, and this Timothy Olyphant one that I worked on for 12 hours solid and looked up and night had fallen (mentol ilnes).

2 - 3 least favourite gifsets

I've been doing this for over 10 years so I've made a lot of trash, old and new, and ones I would make differently now with higher quality video and bigger file sizes for tumblr etc. Sometimes I try stuff I don't know how to do and it just looks shite but it never stops me posting it :3

44 - gifsets that have become memes

I don't think anything has really become a meme. I have some still image edits that have been popular within a fandom, like this one from Les Mis that some kind people tried to make a meme format but it never really caught on (I think because it was already an incorrect quotes-style rather than an original meme like?). This is another still edit that got passed around and reposted enough a super cruncy screenshot came up on my Facebook newsfeed several years later lol. Strictly gif, this one is probably closest or this?

thank you for asking! idk if you wanted such a deep dive but I had fun lol

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

omg could you do like a fic where elvis and reader meet the Beatles (reader is a scouser and from Liverpool) then reader and the Beatles are talking about like there favourite thing from Liverpool and elvis get jealous and lashes out at reader then like kisses her in front of the Beatles like everyone is shocked Memphis mafia are the Beatles are but it ends up with reader and elvis having extremely loud makeup sex whilst the Beatles are downstairs, elvis and the reader come back down stairs and like the Beatles are just in pure shock?

Here you go!

Hope you enjoy it

Elvis Fuckin' Presley

I was just gonna post it attached to the ask but I thought I could format it better as a post. Turns out tumblrs completely updated the text posts to be complete shite.

[jackstingy]

# JACKSTINGY – an independent, mutuals only, 18+ roleplay blog following the semipiternal woes of a) some nerdy english kid waffling between uni and an internship at the local retirement home and b) the maleficent spirit of a machiavellian drunkard now attempting to permanently possess the body of said nerdy english kid. triggering content such as religious theming + imagery, references to alcohol use + physical violence, and dissociation will make frequent appearances. rules below the read more, though saint peter and satan have one little thing in common and that’s knowing quite thoroughly that the spirit of old stingy jack isn’t reading through shite. 

(you probably should, though. shutting up isn’t quite a part of either of their personal dictionaries, and neither is using parentheses in the manner they were meant to be used.)

THE PLAYER'S HANDBOOK – THE RECORDS IN THE BASEMENT – THE CEALLACH SCRAPBOOK – THE CAT RANDOMIZER

INTERACTING. will not be open to bigots, white-washers, or fetishisers. it will, however, be open to any and all mutuals (which is a status reserved for anyone and everyone who is a cool, respectful, talented writer – id est, you!), regardless of plotting status and whether or not we’ve talked ooc. feel free treat memes as starters, reblog memes and prompts from me instead of the source without sending anything in, delete anything from me that you’re too busy to answer; i’m really just here to have fun and find new people to write with, so as long as you respect my rules and i respect yours, we’re cool.

WRITING. will be tagged with applicable triggers as “trigger tw”, posted using beta editor, and mainly occur in two modes: anxious third person rambling from j.d. and atrocious first person misanthropy from jack with an italicised and bolded transition between them. while my writing may look lengthy, you are in no way obligated to match word count or force replies out quicker than you can handle. basic etiquette applies: no godmodding, no metagaming, and no powerplaying without discussing the parameters of any of these acts beforehand. all this being said, roleplaying is a hobby, and if you ever want to drop a thread or get something a little shorter in your notifications, i am more than willing to oblige you.

SHIPPING. in terms of romance will happen selectively and exclusively with j.d for the foreseeable future, be based on chemistry after a substantial amount of threads and plotting, and in no way be forced on you. i love pre-established relationships of the platonic or hostile kind with reckless disregard for my characters’ established timelines, though, so i’m always open to editing plot points in and out as development happens and stories are made. i’d rather not write smut on this blog, but suggestive content will be tagged as such and fade to blacks may happen.

UNFOLLOWING. will be done with a heads-up through private messages and a softblock on my end unless you’ve stated prior that you’d rather be hard blocked. of course, i don't expect a heads-up from anyone who wishes to unfollow or block me; do what you need to do to keep your corner of the internet comfortable!

FORMATTING. will be minimal, with small text, single spacing, italicised words, and 100x100 static icons. if there is anything you’d like me to change about how i format my posts, please let me know via tumblr ims or discord.

OOC. talk will be attempted! i’m seb, 23, he/him, now kicking it in gmt+11, with ‘it’ being the metaphorical bucket that is writing. i love commenting on posts (i know most of tumblr hates it, but i truly do believe that the reply function was made for me and me alone), sending in asks, and falling to my digital knees at the sheer quality of writing and emotion to be found in this community. i am slightly terrified of returning to indie roleplaying after a long stint in just group rp sectors, but hopefully j.d. and jack can bring some existential fear and festive cheer to you all!

[thebedroomblues]

what the FUCK does tumblr think she’s doing with this tik tok format shite. tell me W H Y are gifs and videos opening up like reels and i can’t rotate OR zoom in on them.

[liberifatalis]

Firsts (Noctis Lucis Caelum x Ignis Scientia)

WORDS: 3026 RATING: SFW PAIRING: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia SUMMARY: He remembers the first time he met him, the first time he held him…the first time he kissed him. Ignis remembers a lot of their firsts, but he never thought there would be a first time where he had to say goodbye. NOTES: Ignis POV (third person), Heavy Angst, Major Character Death, Friends to Lovers, slight Episode Ignis spoilers.

[read on Ao3 here]

PREVIEW:

A Crownsguard should not be doing this. He was the royal advisor to the Prince; his job was to look over and care after him, and not to litter chaste kisses down his neck and all the way to his collarbone.

|one| the first time green eyes gazed into blue

He was not dressed like a Prince, that was certainly evident.

Although he was donned in the Royal colours, he almost looked like an Insomnian citizen. His father, on the other hand, was quite the opposite; he exuded regality, and he looked exactly like Ignis had pictured him (minus the angry glare and extremely arched eyebrows).

Outstretching his hand towards the Prince, he met his eyes for the first time. Bright, and blue. They were much more childlike compared to his own green eyes, which were slightly hardened from all the strenuous training and skill-building he had gone through growing up.

The Prince looked hesitant at first, but he smiles and takes Ignis’ hand in both his smaller palms.

“I’m Noctis,” he said. I know. “What’s your name?”

“Ignis Scientia. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Prince Noctis.”

|two| the first time he showed him how to be a child

“Prince Noctis, you must be careful.”

Even though he was facing Noctis’ back, he knew he was rolling his eyes at him. He understands. He is ten, and will only grow more rebellious as he ages. Being the Prince of Lucis definitely adds more fuel to the fire.

Noctis stops, and turns slightly, balancing on the railing beneath the soles of his feet. “I’ll try…” he says, walking towards the direction of Ignis, ignoring his worried look. “…Mom.”

Ah, His Highness’ sarcasm is finally making an appearance for today. Ignis had thought that today must have been an awfully lucky day, blessed by the Six themselves, if the Prince wasn’t speaking back as usual. He did enjoy the sarcasm, though, for whatever reason, and he supposes it could be worse; he had heard stories of the lives of other royal advisors, and they were not something he liked to think about. He thought that maybe they were just stories, told to people like himself to scare them into always being prim and proper, but that was something he would never truly know.

“If you scrape your knees again, I’ll have to use that ointment that you loathe.”

That seemed to work. Noctis stood still on the railing, looking towards Ignis with curious eyes. He was weighing the options over, it seemed. And with a shrug of his shoulders, it seemed that the short-lived fun outweighed the inevitable tear stained cheeks and bloody knees.

Walking closer to Ignis with cautious steps, Noctis began to hum a tune that Ignis recognised instantly. It was one of his favourite piano pieces, and he played it on the grand piano in the Citadel’s music room various times throughout his stay there. Was the Prince sneaking around, watching him in secret?

“Y’know, you’re a lot older than you look,” Noctis says.

“How so?”

“You just…you’re meant to be a kid. I thought I could have fun with you, or somethin’.”

You could—can—but other, less dangerous kinds of fun. “Well, I am your advisor. My job is to take care of you, and look over you. I was told nothing of your ideas of fun.”

“Oh. I didn’t know there was a how-to-be-an-advisor booklet,” he retorts.

“There is not.” Ignis walks over to the railing and leans against it, looking up to Noctis with narrowed eyes. “It’s just…an unspoken rule, followed by all.”

He jumps off the railing, much more reckless than Ignis appreciates, and points to his knees. “See!” He says with a grin. “I didn’t fall this time.”

Yes, but he had fallen more than ten times before that, and that left some fairly noticeable scars. The blood was not fun to clean up, and Ignis could not for the life of him understand why the Prince kept balancing on the railings. He knew he would keep falling, hurting himself, and the tears had shown that he did not enjoy being hurt. So why?

Ignis clears his throat, and cocks his head to the side in confusion. “That was the first time you have not hurt yourself. Why do you continue to do this?”

Noctis shrugs his shoulders again, and leans against the railing beside Ignis. “I dunno.” He leans his head back and looks up towards the sky, glancing at the various shapes of the clouds above and humming in contentment. “Hey, look!” Noctis says, pointing towards a particularly odd-shaped cloud, one that looked almost like a—“It looks like a fat chocobo.”

“Yes, indeed. It, uh…” He clears his throat. He isn’t good at this, this…spontaneous rambling of sorts. It seemed so informal, not something you would engage in with a Prince. “It looks like a rotund chocobo has just finished eating its fifth meal of the day.”

Noctis laughs at that, eyes shut and mouth wide. His laugh suits him, it is joyous and pure and spontaneous. He turns to the advisor, and glances at him, smile still evident. They give each other a slight nod.

Friends? Friends.

|three| the first time he actually talks to him

Walking into his apartment, he noticed the blazer thrown nonchalantly on the floor and Noctis’ bag draped on the arm of the couch. He sighed, and walked over to where he was lounging and sat across him.

The Prince still had his eyes shut and arms behind his head, head facing the ceiling. Ignis could see he was in deep thought from the slight furrowing of his brow and clenching jaw. “Everything alright?” He asks, leaning back against the couch and getting comfortable.

He was expecting a groan, but he did not receive one. Noctis lifts himself up and replicates his position, albeit a lot more comfortably. “I guess,” he says, resting an arm loosely on his thigh and chewing at his bottom lip. “School is just…I dunno , worse, somehow.”

“Are you still friends with Prompto?”

He nods, eyes downcast. “He’s my best friend, it’s just that…” he trails off, hand lifting up to rest behind his neck. “Nobody else is my friend, at least not in the way he is. And Prompto is enough, he’s more than I could ever ask for. I just don’t understand why he’s the only one to treat me so normally.”

“I see.” He brings up his index finger and pushes his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. He expected this, of course. Even though his father had enrolled him in a public school, nothing could change the fact that Noctis was the Prince of Lucis. Everyone would have seen him at least once in the papers, on the television, or online. Everyone knew what he looked like, and where he resided, and his birth date. Privacy and normalcy would be considered a privilege for somebody like Noctis, and unfortunately, he did not have that privilege.

Before he could continue on—give some words of consolation—he was cut off. “Do you like being my advisor, Specs?” Noctis asks, looking at him directly now, with hardened eyes.

“It can be difficult at times…” He exhales, crossing one leg over the other. “But I thoroughly enjoy it.”

|four| the first time his lips graced his own

He found him, in his room, feet tucked underneath his arms and tears staining his cheeks. He was trying to muffle the sounds of his cries by biting the inside of his cheek with his teeth. It did not work. Ignis could hear his cries as soon as he opened the front door.

Walking towards him with cautious steps, he sat next to him. The mattress shifted with his weight and Noctis turned around to face him with wide eyes, not realising that he had walked into the room. He couldn’t cover up that he was upset, and just lowered his eyes to his feet, fiddling with his fingers.

“I, uh—” his voice cracks. “Did you hear?”

Ignis nods. He did hear. Of course he did. It wasn’t pleasant news; no one would like to be informed that they were to be married for politics. Not only that, but to be told you could not even choose who you were to marry was not something anyone, especially a young man, would want to hear.

“I can’t believe this is happening to me, and Luna. She’s my friend, Ignis. I don’t see her in that way at all. I just—”

Ignis places a firm hand on his shoulder, turning him towards his own frame and looking at him in the eye. “It will be fine, Noctis.” His thumb rubs circles over the Prince’s clothed shoulder in comfort. “Things can still change. When will the wedding take place?”

“In two years.”

“When you are twenty, then.”

In all his years of being an advisor, Ignis had never acted out of impulse. Never. Until today. All he had to do was look into his blue eyes—that used to be so bright and full of life—which were now holding hundreds of untold emotions and pain, and he felt his resolve crumble into tiny, little pieces. He hated seeing Noctis like this…so fragile, and lacking hope. Pulling the Prince into his embrace, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders tightly, not wanting to let go.

He could feel his heartbeat against his chest, rapidly increasing and unsteady. His hands traveled up to the soft, black locks he had always wanted to touch, but never dared to, and lightly caressed the strands between his fingertips. He felt the younger man nuzzle into his neck, and his heartbeat had slowed down just slightly.

“I am sorry, Noct,” he whispers into his ear.

Noctis pulls away from him and looks up into his green eyes, face now confused. The corners of his mouth rise slightly, and he leans in—too close for comfort—inches away from Ignis’ lips. “Don’t be.” Before was able to voice his concern on what he was sure was going to happen, it happened.

Noctis pressed his lips onto his own, and his palms cupped Ignis’ face, tracing his thumbs over the line of his jaw; relishing the way his skin felt under his own fingertips.

Graceful hands trailed to the Prince’s chin, tilting his head upwards so he could taste more of him—kiss him deeper. He tasted unbelievably sweet, even sweeter than anything he had concocted before. But he wished he wouldn’t have tasted so sweet, so much like he imagined he would taste. Because a Crownsguard should not be doing this. He was the royal advisor to the Prince; his job was to look over and care after him, and not to litter chaste kisses down his neck and all the way to his collarbone.

|five| the first time he lied to him

“You alright, Specs?”

No.

He nods at the concerned Prince, avoiding eye contact.

He cannot bear to say it out loud. He saw it. Everything. What was going to happen to Noctis. And he should tell him, but he can’t. If he tells him—says it out loud—then that makes it real. And he does not want it to be real. It cannot be real, it should not be. But Ignis knows that it is inevitable, as Noctis is a good man…and a good King, just like his father.

Ignis hopes, silently, in the darkness of the night, that it will not happen.

|six| the first time he said ‘I love you’ without actually saying it

He knew he would awake from his decade long slumber, but he wished he didn’t—that meant that he would soon leave, for eternity.

But he couldn’t think about that, at least not focus on it, as he was finally back, within arms reach. Ignis could finally hear him again, smell him. He wishes he could see him. But hearing him, feeling the warmth of his skin is more than enough.

The smell of the salty water beneath the cliffside, and Noctis’ finely tailored suit engulf his senses. He can hear the fire crackling behind him, and the waves softly hitting against the rocky shores. He loves this sound, and the smell. It always calmed him, somehow. It felt homely, and warm, and safe. Sometimes, it made everything feel normal—as if his dear friend wasn’t going to pass shortly. It made him forget. Only sometimes.

“No,” Ignis says. “You won’t be going alone, I’ll—”

“No, you’re right.” He can hear Noctis turning towards him, leather shoes slightly scraping against the rocks beneath their feet. “I mean, I wouldn’t have made it all this way without you guys. Why stop now?” He can hear him walking closer to him now, and a warm hand is placed gently on his shoulder. “In the end, I might not have you at my side, but I’ll always have you in my heart.”

I love you.

Noctis’ hands trail down his arm and make their way to his gloved palms, and intertwines his fingers loosely in his own. Ignis can feel him leaning closer, just like before, and a chaste kiss is placed just underneath his most prominent scar. “Thanks…” Noctis says, lingering, breath fluttering against his cheek. “Thanks for everything, Iggy.”

Outstretching his hand towards the Prince, he met his eyes for the first time. Bright, and blue. They were much more childlike compared to his own green eyes, which were slightly hardened from all the strenuous training and skill-building he had gone through growing up.

The Prince looked hesitant at first, but he smiled and took Ignis’ hand in both his smaller palms.

“I’m Noctis,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Ignis Scientia. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Prince Noctis.”

Before he can stop himself, and not that he wanted to, a tear ran down his cheek, and he hears Noctis chuckle slightly, bringing his hand up and wiping away the tear with his thumb. He wishes this moment could last forever. He wishes it was ten years ago, when he had to wake up a grumpy Prince in the tent, or lecture him to eat more of his vegetables.

No. Thank you for everything, Noct.

|seven| the first time he said goodbye

When he sat on the throne—his throne—matured and ready, ready to enact his fate and save his people, Ignis was proud. So, so proud. Although Noctis had awoken from his decade-long slumber with a very similar attitude to his younger self, there were things that had changed; he was quieter, much more solemn. His appearance had changed, too, of course. From what he could feel beneath the tips of his fingers, he now had a beard, one that Ignis would have never believed he was capable of growing, and his hair was styled in a more suitable fashion for a thirty-year-old King.

Noctis had grown up.

Truthfully, Ignis had waited for this day. It was not that he disliked Noctis before, no, quite the contrary—it was just that Ignis had always believed that Noctis could become someone that was fit to rule over his people, and to see that now he had believed in himself, too, made the royal advisor feel a range of things that could not be described with words.

And Ignis thought that he was part of the reason for that, and that made him happy, but he was even happier knowing that most of it was because of Noctis himself.

But when Ignis walked up to the throne one last time, just feel His Highness’ decaying body and somehow comprehend and accept that he was really gone, he found himself struggling to do just that. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t. The world took away his best friend, his would-have-been lover, his King.

It was stupid, he knew that. He knows that if Noctis was here, and he was telling him how he felt, he would shake his head and tell him to snap out of it. But he couldn’t help it. He felt as if he had no purpose. Without Noctis, what was there left for him?

Without Noctis…

…without Noctis.

|eight| the first time he is without him

He has lived for longer than half a century now.

It should not have turned out like this, he thinks to himself every day. But thinking about it brings back the pain. He supposes he should have moved on by now, but how can he? He knows the others haven’t, either. The Shield is all smiles and laughter with his wife and three children, now making their way into adulthood, and he hasn’t heard from the blonde in a while, either; probably out on some hike again, with his camera and some friends, a companion, too, most likely. But he knows that they still think about him, and everything that happened once they rest for the night. And he knows that they are hurting just like he is.

It has been more than twenty years since the world took Noctis away, and every day, Ignis thinks of the years he spent beside him. The awkward first encounter, scolding him almost constantly for not eating his vegetables, the road trip which turned out to be their last moments together, and all the tiny things that happened in-between.

He hates that he has forgotten what he looks like. He can only remember tiny details, like how his hair was dark and had an almost-sapphire tint, and his bright, blue eyes. And the tiny mole on the right side of his face. He remembers the sound of his voice, the lilt in his tone whenever he talked about the constellations or pastimes. He remembers the words of affection spoken to him, and the saccharine taste of his lips.

He remembers the way it felt to have a hand on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothing circles across his soft skin. He remembers the first time he told him he loved him, without actually saying the words. And he remembers the first time he cried for him.

Most of all, he remembers that he didn’t die with him. And that above all else, that he wished he had gone instead.

[wavesofinkdrops]

From the prompt post, I'd love: Martin Blackwood, Guardian (JonMartin or gen). Thanks!

Well this became mostly Martin angst, with some implied JonMartin. I actually really liked writing this, thank you for the prompt! I also wrote this before MAG 142 came out and... I did not realise I was hitting closer to home than previously thought. Thank you to @outlikethat for betaing!

Cadmean Victory

What is the recipe to destroy oneself?

It’s a pint of dizzying loneliness, carefully prepared over years of abandonment, with emotions left unsaid for too long. They give it a slight bitterness, but not enough to sour it. To let it sour is to turn dark and empty. Don’t let yourself die in the process.

(He’s alone in his room clutching the duvet closer when it’s the only thing that will keep him safe, keep him warm. He feels empty.)

Stir well, pouring into the mix a cup of sharp-toothed anger – the various other emotions aren’t enough, but repressed anger will fix that immediately. It gives it a taste, an edge one might never expect in such a gentle person. A bite that shows itself only in the most dire situations, because letting yourself be underestimated helps.

(If he had the option to do the same, would he take it? Instead of having to watch his friends get hurt, die, other things he doesn’t even want to imagine or think about. He hates it. But he can’t do anything about it.)

Add a serving, depending on your own tastes, of an all-encompassing silence. A quiet that penetrates into the walls of the house and soaks the very wallpaper with how it drips from the air. Be careful- don’t put too much of it, or it may drive you to the edge and back, leaving only a shell behind itself.

(Nowadays, it’s easy for him to isolate himself. Especially when Peter’s around, it’s so damn simple to just never see any of the other archival assistants, let alone Jon.)

Let it sit for some time in a place too hostile and cold for it. Let it wait, let it simmer and grow by itself. Don’t stop too soon, or you leave it weak. If you leave it too long, it will bear only hatred – vital to avoid for the next step to succeed.

(He doesn’t know who’s an ally and who’s an enemy anymore. The Archives are terrifying, in the eerie way only a place like that can be. He hates it as much as he can’t leave it. It feels hollow, and he doesn’t know how he can win at anything when he feels he’s lost all of it already.)

The final step is perhaps the most important. For utter destruction, you leave a sliver of silver hope to reach for, a longing that carries through every hardship, a love that can survive in the harshest of conditions. A pinch of that is enough, and adds the beauty of it all. It makes for a masterpiece.

(He doesn’t know whether he loves Jon, or the man he remembers. Perhaps it’s just the image of Jon he’s built in his mind, but he vows to himself that someday- someday, he will be the one to protect Jon, his guardian – perhaps even become a guardian for the institute, if that's what it takes – and not the other way around.)

-

Cadmean victory: a reference to a victory that leads to one's own ruin.

[multimask]

[Image Transcription - Twitter screenshot from @critrolestats:

Mollymauk tends towards ‘he’, but would not take offense to other pronouns. He was designed to screw with cosplayers. #TalksMachina

 - End Transcription]

On an unrelated note, when will the lastest Talks Machina episode make it to YouTube…

[neon-junkie]

Five-oh-Thirst

Summary: The 501st boys have finally reached their breaking point; they just HAVE to have you, and Jesse makes it his mission to recruit you into their shenanigans. After a night out at 79's, you're spoilt by a handful of Troopers, and a Captain who's late to the party.

Pairing: Female Jedi Reader x Rex, Jesse, Fives, Kix, Hardcase, Dogma & Tup

Word count: 12k

Tags: Shameless smut, Gangbang, Drinking, Double penetration, Praise kink, Voyeurism, Military names, Aftercare, Morning after pill.

Notes: this is so fucking slutty and i loved writing every second of it >:) sorry if some of the boys are a little OOC, im still new to writing these hotties. Tumblrs formatting is shite, so i’d suggest reading this on AO3 (under the same username.)

To say that you're 'close' with the 501st is an understatement. Close isn't quite the word you could use to describe the bond you have with this boisterous bunch of clones. You may be their Commander, but you're also a friend, and soon to be a lover. You've had your fair share of drunken nights out with the lot, getting rowdy in 79's, dragging each other's asses home, falling asleep in cuddle piles in their barracks. Yes, you shouldn't be mingling like this with your squad, but it's hard to not get so attached.

Anakin has warned you over and over about both your attachment and feelings, but you've seen the way he talks to them, Rex specifically. Anakin has let his emotions lead him whenever his men are hurt or in danger, and maybe that's why he always gives you a wink during his lectures. He knows what it's like, and he's only attempting to follow the Jedi code, teaching you in the process.

Speaking of Jedi codes, apparently rocking up to the Jedi cruiser bridge with a cup of caf in hand is something to be frowned upon. What? you're tired, and it's not like Anakin has asked his men to get him a cup of caf before. Obi-wan has done this exact same thing also! So, because you're a Padawan, you're not allowed to do it? Sheesh. The hypocrisy.

Despite Anakins disproving glare, the briefing continues flawlessly, as does the mission. Luck must have been on your side, or the force, depending on what you believe in. The Separatists crawled away with their tails between their legs, leaving the planet Naboo alone once more.

A course is set for Coruscant, and the Jedi cruiser launches into hyperspace, taking roughly seven hours to return home. That time is yours to do as you please, and you decide that a nap is in order.

Walking to your quarters takes a good ten minutes, seeing as how large this cruiser is. You travel down an array of corridors, having Troopers stop and salute you as you pass. It's a touching gesture, but sometimes you hate being the centre of attention. You understand that, to the clones, it's a sign of respect, one that they hold dearest in their hearts; you tried to get them to stop once, and only insulted them in the process, so you swiftly gave up and let them continue.

One Trooper in particular calls out your name from behind, and you rotate to see ARC Trooper Jesse approaching, his helmet tucked under his arm, and his other hand salutes you as he approaches. "Commander, do you have a minute?"

"For you, Jesse? Always," you say with a smile.

That smile is mirrored right back at you, and Jesse gestures for you to step down a quiet corridor to talk in private. He doesn't speak up at first, scratching the back of his neck nervously, but you allow him to take his time. Whatever's on the tip of his tongue must be really important.

"Commander, this is a... strange request to make," Jesse begins, and looks for your approval before continuing.

"Go on."

"Well, the boys and I were talking... and uh, you know how we like to de-stress by going to 79's?" Jesse mutters, keeping his voice quiet.

"Yes?" you question, nodding at the same time.

"And by de-stress, we like to... you know, pick up women there," Jesse shrugs, avoiding eye contact as he speaks.

Something in your gut informs you that you know what's coming next, and it explains why Jesse is stalling his request so much. You continue nodding as he speaks, squinting your eyes ever so slightly, suspicious of where this is heading.

"We've been uh, wanting to invite... you along, but we're not sure if that follows your erm, codes?" Jesse pulls the most panicked expression as he finally spits the words out. You think you know what he's asking, but you'll need to dig a little deeper, just to be certain.

"Going to 79's in the first place is against my Code... I think?" you reply, uncertain on what the Jedi code says about nightclubs and getting drunk with clones. "I thought you would know by now that I bend the rules in my favour, without others knowing, of course."

"Oh, that's a relief," Jesse sighs, and removes his hand from his neck. "I mean, you shouldn't, but we all break some rules here and there, don't we?"

"Yeah," you say with a shrug. "What exactly are you asking from me, Jesse? Be clear with your words, Trooper," you order in a teasing manner, noticing how the tip of Jesse's ears turn pink at your words.

"How about... the next time we all go out for drinks, we... take you back instead of some random woman?"

Oh.

There's a heated knot in your stomach, twisting and turning at the thought of sleeping not only with Jesse, but a handful of men. They're all attractive in their own unique ways, and you applaud them for how they create their individuality, through hairstyles, facial hair, and tattoo's. Not only does it make them easier to identity, but it really helps express their personality, and how they may act on the battlefield.

And the thought of having a bunch of these handsome men taking care of you? Who would say no to that?

"Who do you mean by 'we'?" you question out of curiosity.

"Uh, well, it depends on who comes out with us. I mean, all the boys have spoken about it, and all of them are down," Jesse shrugs, and rubs the back of his neck once more.

They've spoken about this? All of them? You must be quite the catch.

"Why? Is there someone you want to avoid?" Jesse then questions, and you instantly shake your head in response.

"No, I'm just curious. I... didn't know you all felt that way towards me," you sheepishly reply, and Jesse flashes you a concerned expression.

"You're kidding me, right? Have you noticed the way we all speak to you? The way we are around you? Even General Skywalker has told us multiple times to cool it," Jesse nervously laughs, clutching his helmet tighter.

You laugh with him, your mind replaying many incidents where the boys have let it slip. Kix has made multiple inappropriate jokes as he's been patching you up. Hardcase is always offering his lap as a seat whenever you're at 79's, and that's an offer that you may need to finally take up. Dogma will attempt to follow the code, but you've caught him staring at your ass more than once. Fives is Fives, and that's all that needs to be said. And Tup is too shy to make any bold moves, but you can tell he has a soft spot for you, as his face turns bright red whenever you're within ten feet of him.

As for Rex and Jesse, they flirt when it's appropriate, meaning when they're not in earshot of General Skywalker.

"Now that you mention it..." your words trailing off, thinking about all those moments.

"See," Jesse points. "So, are you in?" he questions, scrunching his face up in fear of rejection.

"As long as you boys can share," you instruct, knowing what they're like. "I'm in."

Jesse fist pumps the air as he lets out a "yesss!" but swiftly attempts to cool it, trying to not let his excitement burst. "I'll let the men know. We were planning on heading out tonight?" Jesse offers.

"I'll be there," you smile. "Make sure you and your men look good for me, Trooper," you playfully order.

"Of course, Commander," Jesse nods, and allows you to end the conversation there. If you're going out later, then you definitely need that nap right now. Jesse lands a cheeky slap on your bum as you turn to walk off, and you flash him a smile over your shoulder, heading down the corridor to your quarters.

----------

Could this be considered a date? or just an arranged hookup with a bunch of men? Either way, you're using the night as an excuse to dress up, not that you need an excuse to begin with.

That nap does wonders for you, although it could be considered more of a sleep, since as you woke up, you were arriving back on Coruscant. It's mid-afternoon, giving you plenty of time to get ready for tonight. Upon arrival, you take a trip downtown to purchase something to wear for tonight, and you have just the right outfit in mind.

The dress is ever-so-slightly out of your price range, but you know it'll be worth it. The 501st take pride in their colour, blue, and you know their jaws will drop when they see you in their colour. The dress fits the way you like it, bold and flashy, enough to turn more than your legion's heads. You pair the dress with some white heels and a bag, Trooper colours all around; you're really milking it, but Maker, don't you look good!

Hours later and you're ready for tonight, checking yourself out in your apartment mirror. You're fortunate to have your own place outside of the Jedi temple; it's tiny and run down, but enough to get you away whenever you need it. Sadly, it's far too small to fit a handful of clones in, so the barracks will have to do.

One taxi later, and you're outside 79's, queueing up to enter the busy club. Happy hour has just begun as you enter, and you remove the comlink from your bag, pressing a button to inform your men that you've arrived.

Nervously, you gaze around the club, ignoring the random sets of eyes on you. You're only after one group of men, and thankfully, one of them approaches you.

"Commander?" Kix calls out. As you turn to look at him, his face lights up, gesturing to the outfit you're wearing. "Oh, Commander!" Kix sighs, gawking over the sight of you in his legions colours.

"Not too much?" you question, gesturing to the outfit.

"No, it's just right," Kix sighs yet again. "And I like the white heels and bag, nice touch!"

Of course Kix has noticed those minor details.

"Where are the others?" you question, and Kix offers you his arm in response. You take it, following Kix through the club, eventually coming across a cosy booth, full to the brim with your boys.

Kix's reaction to your outfit was sweet and wholesome, something you'd expect from him. Fives on the other hand is hollering like a dog as you approach, checking you out with a whistle, doing everything he can to hype you up. "Commander," he purrs, and wraps an arm around your waist. "Here for me?" he jokingly questions, making you laugh at his forwardness.

"She came here for all of us!" Dogma butts in, swatting at Fives's hand around your waist.

"Oh, so you are joining in, Dogma? I didn't think you were one to break the rules," Fives bites back, and gestures for you to take a seat as he talks.

"This is different, Fives," Dogma mutters. You zone out to their bickering as you shuffle around the booth, finding a seat between Hardcase and Tup.

Tup, like the sweetheart he is, quietly tells you "you look beautiful," with flushed cheeks. Only for Hardcase to add "yeah, you look hot!"

It's hard to believe that these men are all clones. Their reactions are so vast, but they all express the same thing - you look good, and no doubt, they're going to be all over you tonight. They look just as good as you do, maybe even better; they've dressed up for tonight, sporting fine button-up shirts, all of them looking clean and tidy, for once, not covered in dirt from the battlefield.

Jesse offers to buy your first round, and insists that you stay at the booth with the others. He probably fears that another batch of clones will latch onto you the second you stand up. Are the men in here aware that you're a Jedi? Or do they assume you're some poor, unfortunate soul, who's been sucked into spending the night with this bunch? You're hoping for the second assumption, as the last thing you want is some tattle-tale clone recognizing you and ratting you out to the Jedi order.

Jesse returns with your drink and a round of shots, and so, the night begins. The shot is surprisingly nice, as is your drink, but the next set of shots? Eh, not so much. It seems that the more you drink, the worst the shots taste, and you have to turn down the fourth one. You're not going to be standing if you continue chugging drinks at this rate; how your men can drink like this is beyond you.

Dogma and Tup have relaxed in their own way, joining in the conversation every so often, although Dogma is still being teased for 'breaking so many rules.' Hardcase and Fives are as loud as each other, and are currently attempting to impress you through a series of arm wrestling matches. Jesse seems content, on a nice, tipsy level, and has had his eyes on you all night. Kix is simply vibing, not visibly drunk, but bubblier than usual.

You continue peering around, questioning who's missing, and then it suddenly dawns on you.

"Wait a minute! Where's Rex?" you yelp, noticing the lack of a certain blonde clone.

"You've got all of us here, and the only man on your mind is the Captain?" Fives tuts, breaking his concentration from the arm wrestling match. Hardcase takes up the opportunity to take victory, slamming Fives's hand down onto the table.

"Yet again, I am victorious!" Hardcase states, and Fives sputters at his remark.

"That's not fair! Our Commander was asking us a question," Fives argues, and the pair begin bickering between themselves.

You decide to intervene, turning to Hardcase and asking "so, what would you like as your prize?"

Your question is met with a sea of "oooh!"'s and "pick something good, Hardcase!" His face alone is priceless, his emotions switching between shocked, flustered, and cheeky. Hardcase then trails into thought, and after barely any thinking time, he settles on his prize. "For you to finally take up my offer and sit on my lap, sweetheart," he replies, patting his thighs as he talks.

A smirk escapes your lips as you stand, shuffling over to sit on the tattooed clones lap. Hands find their way to your waist, and you're almost certain that Hardcase is purring as he cuddles up to you.

"How is she?" Kix questions, as if you're not sitting in earshot of his question.

"Comfiest ass in the galaxy," Hardcase hums, pulling you higher onto his lap as he speaks. He settles his chin on your shoulder, fine stubble pressed against your skin, and from the expressions of those around you, you can tell that they're all jealous. They'll have their time with you eventually, whether it's here, or at the barracks later. The night is still young.

"My turn," Dogma announces out of nowhere, shuffling out of the booth. None of you have any idea what he's on about, until he turns to you and asks "what are you drinking, Commander?"

You tell him your order, followed up with "and stop calling me Commander! We're not at work, you don't need to call me that."

Dogma apologizes with a soft laugh before making his way over to the bar, followed by Jesse and Kix.

"Is it bad that I kinda like calling you it?" Fives questions, and you know exactly what he's implying.

"The only places you should be calling me Commander is on the battlefield, and in the bedroom," you purr, and you're met with a fawning, lustful expression from Fives, who is more than satisfied at your answer.

"Yes, Ma'am," he purrs back, and you take a mental note for later.

"You know, none of you answered my question," you begin, and the rest of the clones look at you in confusion. "Where is Rex?"

"He said he's busy with a meeting, and that he'll meet us at the barracks later," Fives explains, softly shrugging as he speaks. In Fives' eyes, that means one there's one less clone for you to give your attention to, meaning more for him.

"That's a shame," you sigh. The thought of Rex being here right now is a curious topic on your mind; would he attempt to maintain his high-ranking status, remaining professional despite knowing what's going to happen later? Or would he throw all of that out of the window, taking the first opportunity to straddle you onto his hips and remind his men who's in charge?

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll take good care of you whilst the Captain's gone," Hardcase smugly comments, placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he eyes you up.

Hardcase stays true to his word, as do the rest of your men. Dogma, Jesse, and Kix return shortly after with the next round of drinks, and lo-and-behold, more shots. You have entered the stage of tipsy, sitting on the drunken fence by the time you finish your drink. Hardcase offers to buy the next round, but you brush him off, insisting that it's your turn. "Since you're all taking care of me, the least I can do is return the favour," you explain, and a few of the men chuckle at your reasoning.

Tup, the sweetheart that he is, helps you up and over to the bar. You're able to walk, even in these heels, but you know that Tup's presence is actually a way of telling others clones that you're already taken for. To your surprise, his hand settles around your waist as you prop yourself up against the bar top, waiting for somebody to come and serve you.

"How's your night going?" Tup questions. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah, are you?" you reply with a nod, curling up into Tup's side.

"Mhm," Tup nods in agreement. "I just need a few more drinks down me," he adds, and you understand how he feels. If you weren't the centre of attention, then you'd be just as quiet as Tup is, shying away nervously in the cornerless booth.

"Let me get one for you," you offer, and Tup takes you up on it.

"Thank you, Comma- I mean, uh, love." Tup's expression turns sour, blushing at his fumbled reply. You brush the nerves off him by placing a kiss on his cheek, and watch in amazement as his face begins turning a different shade of red.

Tup mutters something to you, and you almost miss his words over the volume of the music. "You missed," he boldly states. Tup's definitely stolen that line from Fives, or has been taught it - either way, it's something Fives would say, and you know how close those two are.

"Oh?" you cheekily sigh. You're about to follow it up, until the bartender arrives, pulling your attention away from the clone.

Once your order is placed, you turn back to Tup, wanting to finish where you left off. He looks at you, then looks away, pulling an embarrassed face. Your fingertips are placed below Tup's chin, gently turning his head to face you, and before Tup can say anything, you lean in to kiss him.

Tup freezes up, before melting into the kiss, moving his head to fit against yours. A hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you there, as if to reassure himself that yes, this really is happening. Tup's kisses match his personality, sweet and gentle, but the tongue that slides across your lower lip suggests there's more to him than meets the eye.

You can overhear the sounds of cheering in the background, and you just know that it's coming from your men. You break away, not to be rude, but because you don't want the poor bartender to be stood there awkwardly as you're busy snogging a clone. Thankfully, they arrive moments later, and you two soon return to the booth with drinks and shots in hand.

Fives applauds his vod as Tup sheepishly sits down, and you go to take a seat beside him, until Jesse pulls you onto his lap. "You've had enough fun with him, come and give us some attention!" he playfully nips, and follows his statement up with a kiss on your neck.

"There's plenty of me to go around," you bite back, wiggling your hips slightly, grinding your ass on Jesse's lap. He sighs heavily at your move, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you there.

You turn your attention to the drinks that you just brought, downing yet another shot, and washing it down with your beverage.

Minutes later, and you're really starting to feel the liquor running through your veins, as well as the undying urge to dance. Jesse is willing, and Hardcase lets you two know that he'll meet you over there, once he's gone and used the refresher. The rest of the clones stay seated, to your surprise, but then again, they don't seem like the type to dance. Well, Fives possibly, but he's barely able to stand, let alone dance, and Kix is nursing him back to soberness with many glasses of water.

Jesse follows you over to the dance floor, your hand in his, and it's busier than you expected. The dance floor is mostly full of clones and their squadrons, all celebrating various victories and whatnot, with a few women lingering about. You understand by now that women only come to this bar to pick up the clones, and can you blame them? Bless the Kaminoans for picking out Jango Fett to be their donor, as his genetics are excelling in all departments.

"My turn with you already?" Jesse questions as he begins dancing with you, swaying in time with the music.

"We've only been here for a few hours. I thought you'd be more patient?" you tease, and Jesse gives you a look.

"I'm patient when I want to be, sweetheart," Jesse shrugs. "But for you? I've been waiting a long time for this," he explains as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

The tattooed clone smiles down at you, and the glisten in his eyes informs you that his patience truly is running thin. But how long will it be before it runs out? Or how much can you rile him up before he breaks?

"I'm sure you can wait a little longer," you flirt back, trailing your hand along his shirt, fingertips gliding over each of his buttons. You meet his collar and hook a finger over the fabric, gently pulling his head down to your level.

Jesse smirks as he replies "I don't think I can," before pressing his lips to yours. You can tell that Jesse's patience is running thin from the way he kisses you, hungry and lustful, playfully nipping at your lower lip. Your hands wrap around his neck, and you have to remind yourself that you left your bag with the others - that's why your hands are empty.

The hands on your waist trail down to your ass, and Jesse boldly grabs more than a handful, pulling your body tightly against his as he kneads your ass. You break the kiss with a yelp, and remind yourself that you're still in public, thankfully with no eyes set on you. "Jesse!" you playfully swat him, and he chuckles against your skin as his lips trail over your neck.

"You started without me!" A disappointed voice calls out, and warmth appears against your back.

Hardcase has returned from the refresher, pouting because the party has apparently started without him. Jesse moves his hands back to your waist, almost as if he's giving permission for Hardcase to press his crotch against your ass, sandwiching you between the two, tattooed clones. Your cheeks quickly turn red, and you must look more flustered than you feel, as the face that Hardcase and Jesse send each other informs you that they have something planned.

"So," Hardcase begins, his eyes flicking down to yours. "When are we taking you back?"

"Soon?" you nervously reply, questioning your own motives. It's hard to concentrate with an uneven sea turning in your stomach, but the liquor is thankfully helping - you'd be a lot more flustered if you were sober right now.

"Soon?" Jesse repeats, raising a brow at your reply. "Why not now, sweetheart?" he asks.

"Yeah," Hardcase nods, and then dips his head down to kiss along your neck. His kisses trail up to your ear, nipping at that sensitive spot behind it before stating "you look like you need us to fill you up."

A bold, yet true statement, but you're unsure if you want to leave just yet. Do you want to continue your teasing here? Or click your fingers and order your men to take you home and fuck you?

"She's thinkin' about it," Hardcase states, directing his words to Jesse.

"We know what you're thinking, babe, and we think that you've teased us enough already," Jesse says to you, and kneads his hands on your waist, picking and pulling at the fabric of your dress. Bold of him to assume what you're thinking - you're the Jedi here, not him. Either way, his thoughts are true. You have teased them enough, but there's no harm in drawing it out just a little longer, is there?

Jesse steals a kiss from you again, and you can feel him smiling as you let out a soft moan. Hardcase continues kissing up your neck, rutting his semi-hard cock against your ass; his lips wander down below your neckline, and he bites and sucks at your skin, leaving a purple blotch behind. It's in just the right place, an area where your Jedi robes will cover it up, but if you want to tease him on the battlefield, all you need to do is pull back at the thin layer of clothing, revealing his mark.

Just as Hardcase is about to kiss your neck again, a voice calls out "get a room!"

Oh yeah, you're doing all this on the dance floor of 79's. Whoops. Jesse pulls away and chuckles at the strangers remark. "See? Even he thinks we should get going," he states, and you finally agree to make a move.

Jesse leads you off the dance floor, and Hardcase keeps his hand comfortably around your waist. You wander back over to the booth, picking your drink up off the table and finishing it off. "It's time, boys!" Hardcase states, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh?" Fives looks over to you, flashing you a cheeky grin. It seems the many glasses of water on the table have finally brought him back to a stable level; Kudos to Kix for dealing with him.

Tup passes you your bag as he shuffles off the sofas, and you thank him by pulling him down for a quick kiss. You break away with a soft laugh as you hear Fives complain "where's mine, huh?"

"You can get it when we're in the taxi," you explain.

Fives swats Hardcase's arm from around your waist, replacing it with his own, and mouths the words "my turn," to Hardcase, who simply laughs at his eagerness. You and Fives take the lead, exiting the club with your squad following behind.

--------

The ride back to the barracks is... eventful, as is entering the barracks itself. Jesse and Kix walk ahead, pretending to be drunker than they actually are so they can distract the guards with their very existence. The rest of you sneak by, sheltered by a wall of horny clones, and you're ushered into their dorm.

The second you step foot into the room, Fives is all over you. With his hands on your hips, he leads you over to the wall, pushing you up against it and locking his lips with yours. Fives's hand trails up to grab your bag, pulling it from your grasp, and chucking it onto a nearby bed, leaving your hands free to wrap around his neck. He's impatient and needy, hungrily kissing you, his hands struggling to find a single place to rest; they slide over your waist, down your back, and grab at your ass, before trailing up and repeating the process all over again.

"Kriff, calm down. She's not going anywhere," one of his vods comments. Kix possibly?

Fives ignores the comment and continues turning your legs into jelly, making up for all his apparent 'lost time.' When he does finally pull away, he's grinning. His pupils are blown, full of lust, eyeing you up like a piece of meat, until somebody swats him away.

"I'm the one who proposed this to her, so I get first dibs," Jesse intervenes. There's something thrilling about the way they're speaking about you, as if you're not there, as if you're their property. In some ways, you are theirs - you have always been theirs - but only tonight have things finally taken a step forward.

Somebody has dimmed the lights, enough to set the mood, but still light enough that you can see what's happening, and so can everyone else. Everybody's watching as Jesse leads you over to what you assume is his bunk, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. Your knees fall onto either side of his hips, spreading your legs, your dress hiking up your thighs.

Jesse places his hands on your waist, holding you as his lips take over from where Fives left off. As he kisses you, he pulls down on your waist, grinding you over his semi-hard cock, reminding you of what's to come. You feel the hem of your dress slip up slightly over your ass, and one of the clones sighs at the small teaser.

Jesse knows what his vods are after, so his hands trail up your back, finding the zip. He slowly unzips your dress, taking his time to reveal what lies beneath, and breaks the kiss so he can pull your dress over your head, discarding it on the bunk next to him.

Needless to say, the air is filled with an array of praise, mutters and moans at the sight of you. You're straddling the ARC Trooper in your underwear and heels, now being freed of your bra. Jesse groans as your tits fall free, and moves his lips down your body, along your neck, over your collarbone, until he latches onto a nipple.

You feel something tug at your foot, and peer over your shoulder to see Hardcase removing your heels; he's polite (and sober) enough to place them down neatly, rather than tossing them to the floor, or worse, throwing them at his vods. Hardcase then stands up, peering over you, and prevents your lips from feeling lonely. He keeps your mouth occupied, whilst Jesse flicks between both of your tits, and both of them find their way to your panties.

"Need to get these off you," Hardcase mutters against your lips. Hardcase hooks his fingers around one strap, Jesse has the other, and the pair slowly slide them off you, moving with your body as you shuffle from Jesse's lap to remove them. You're left naked in a room full of your men, the men that have served under you for a few years now, but it seems that Jesse is the one taking the lead tonight.

"C'mere," Jesse mutters as he manhandles you off his lap. He shimmies around and lays down, his head at the foot of the bed, feet resting against his headboard. Jesse pats his shoulders before making grabby motions with his hands, signalling for you to climb aboard.

With one knee on either side of Jesse's face, you straddle him. Despite the alcohol still pumping through your system, you're still nervous, exposing yourself fully to your men. They're all reacting positively, a few of them palming themselves through their smart pants. Your nervousness doesn't stay for long, being brushed away as Jesse pulls your cunt down onto his face.

He licks a firm stripe over your pussy, followed by a few more curious ones, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. You yelp, instinctively grinding down on Jesse's face, and he seems to like it from the hum he lets out. "Kriff," you overhear one of the clones mutter, and you realize it's Fives when he pipes up with "go on, sweetheart. Fuck his face!"

Jesse nods against your cunt, and the squad seems eager for a show, so, why not?

Firm hands hold onto your thighs, steadying you as you begin rocking back and forth over Jesse's tongue. He's flattened it out nicely, and at this angle, you're able to brush your clit over the wet muscle, grinding oh-so-perfectly. The room is filled with soft words of encouragement, "that's it, doll," and "keep going for us!"

You feel bad that Jesse isn't receiving anything in return, so whilst sitting on his face, you begin unfastening his pants, eventually freeing his cock.

Oh, thank the Maker for those yummy Jango Fett genes.

Jesse is thick, leaking with precum, slightly red at the tip. If he's thick, then that means the rest of them are thick... you're in store for quite a treat.

With one hand barely wrapped around Jesse's cock, you begin pumping his already hard length, earning a whimper from the man beneath you. Your hips have slowed in pace, and Jesse urges you to speed up by grabbing your hips and moving them for you. He takes over, fucking you onto his face for a few moments before steadying your hips again, and wrapping his lips around your clit instead.

You yelp, pumping Jesse's cock faster, and he lets out a similar pleasant sound. Another hand appears on your body, and you peer over your shoulder to see Hardcase grabbing your ass, kneading at your cheeks, playing with them. "Got room for one more?" he questions, eyeing you up.

"Uh-huh," you say with a nod.

Hardcase flashes you a cheeky grin before moving his head down to kiss over your cheeks, lightly biting at each mound, moving from one cheek to the other. Every time it feels like he's getting close to your entrance, he moves across to the other cheek, teasing you with a smile on his lips. You're half tempted to push back onto his face, but he beats you to it by running his tongue over your rim, circling your entrance curiously.

Hardcase doesn't hold back, attacking your entrance with his tongue, his hands kneading at each cheek. Jesse continues flicking his tongue against your clit, and a hand is removed from your thigh; fingertips brush over your pussy, slicking themselves up, before a finger slides into you, not stopping until he reaches his knuckle.

Jesse slowly begins working you open, not that you need it much, considering your heavy arousal. Hardcase notices and takes the hint, wetting his finger in his mouth before pressing the pad against your entrance. He circles your ass a few times, relaxing the muscle, before slowly and gently pushing in. Unlike Jesse, Hardcase takes his time, working with your body to slowly open your ass up.

Your hand continues sloppily pumping Jesse's length, just enough to keep him satisfied; you want to do more, but your thoughts and feelings are already occupied. Just when you think you can't take any more, another clone comes into your line of sight, and asks you those exact words as he knees down in front of you.

"Can you take any more?" Kix questions, eyeing you up, reading your body language.

"Uh-huh," you nod once more, and Kix seems content with your approval.

He plants a light kiss on your lips before standing, and works on unfastening his pants, revealing yet another thick cock for your pleasure. You know exactly what Kix is after, so you open your mouth, awaiting him; he lets out a groan at the sight, and slips his cock past your lips, the underside brushing over your tongue.

Both of your hands are occupied, with one propping your weight up, and the other pumping Jesse; so, you make do with your mouth, sucking him to the best of your ability, and despite being slightly sloppy, Kix seems more than satisfied. He's an understanding man who can clearly see how busy you are.

And oh kriff, you sure are busy.

An orgasm is sitting on the fence, waiting for that final push. Jesse slips another finger into you, curling them and searching for that sweet spot. He knows he's found it when he overhears a muffled moan, and your moan seems to echo, as one of the clones groans at the sight of you. Hardcase removes his finger from your ass, slipping his tongue in and tongue-fucking your small gape, slicking you up so he can begin pushing two fingers in. Like before, he goes slow, understanding the stretch and burn that you're feeling right now.

Hardcase, within time, reaches his knuckles, and gently works his fingers in and out of you. That sensation, added with Jesse's fingers in you, and lips around your clit, is more than enough to have you cumming. You have to slip off Kix's cock to let out a shaky moan, thighs and body trembling as your orgasm takes you. Your forehead presses against Kix's thigh, eyes scrunched shut and mouth hanging open, and Kix soothes you by running his fingers through your hair, keeping it off your face.

You overhear Tup gasp, Dogma whine, and Fives cheer you on. "That's it, sweetheart," one of them encourages, but your mind is so hazy that you're not sure who it was. Either way, the words of encouragement are appreciated, as well as the soothing touches that Kix and Jesse are leaving over your body.

You soon come back around, still trembling from the intensity. Your eyes meet Kix's, who places a kiss on your forehead before settling down on the bunk beside you, muttering something about you having your hands full.

Curiously, you peer over your shoulder, and only then do you realize that Hardcase now has three fingers inside your ass. You're ready, and Hardcase flashes you a look that confirms it. "Wanna see what else we can do?" Hardcase questions, and you swiftly nod, accepting their advances.

Hardcase slowly slips his fingers from your ass, and works on removing his clothes. A kiss is planted on your inner thigh before Jesse gives you the signal to roll off, and you do so, letting the clone crawl out from beneath you. His face is soaked - no, drenched - and your juices have dribbled down over his chin, darkening the collar of his shirt.

"How do I look?" Jesse chuckles, before wiping his mouth and chin with his shirt sleeve. Taking Hardcase's idea, he too undresses, leaving you sat on your knees on his bunk.

Hardcase frees himself from his clothes first, and takes a seat beside you. He's about to get into position, until Fives calls out his protest. "You just had a go with her!" he whines.

"We'll be quick," Hardcase winks. He gets comfortable on the bunk, lying on his back, head pressed against the pillow. Hardcase makes a grabbing motion at you whilst mumbling "I want your ass," and with a laugh, you begin getting into position.

At first, you feel awkward and exposed, settling so your back is pressed to Hardcase's tattooed chest. He takes the lead, swinging your legs on either side of his, spreading you wide, and signalling for you to hold your hips up. Hardcase wraps his hand around the base of his cock and begins searching for your entrance, and with your help, he finds your ass.

"Go at your own pace, babe," Hardcase comments, and allows you to take your time sliding down onto his cock. Despite being prepped, Hardcase is still a stretch, slowly working your ass open. A mixture of groans fill the room as you slowly slide onto him, soon reaching his base, a gasp escaping your lips. "Beautiful," Hardcase comments, and reaches around to flick his fingers over your clit, attempting to help you relax.

"You ready for me?" Jesse questions, and all you can do is nod as nothing escapes your lips. Jesse shuffles up the bed, settling between your thighs. He slowly enters you, making a comment under his breath about how soaked your pussy is.

Jesse slides in with ease, holding his cock deep inside you, bottoming out. He awaits your signal before making a move, as does Hardcase, and when you give it, both the clones start slowly.  

Your head rolls back to rest on Hardcase's shoulder, and the tattooed clone places a kiss on your temple before turning his focus to bucking up into your ass. Jesse's speed is slightly faster, considering he's in an easier position, and fucking a looser hole. Either way, you're full to the brim, moaning and groaning for them as Hardcase continues flicking his fingers over your clit.

"Kriff, doesn't she look good?" you overhear Kix comment.

Dogma follows up with, "if only you could see yourself, Commander."

Commander, Kriff. That status somehow slipped your mind - you're their Commander, their superior, and your men are currently watching you be fucked, whilst queueing up to take their turn with you. Let's hope your Jedi training has paid off, as you're going to need an extra stern poker-face the next time you're in their presence, or worse, in the presence of your Master.

Jesse, from the sounds that he's making, doesn't seem like he's going to last long. In his defense, you have been pumping his cock this entire time, despite your handiwork being somewhat sloppy. Hardcase's hand on your clit brushes over the perfect spot, causing you to clench in response, and that is more than enough to bring Jesse to orgasm.

"Where?" he manages to blurt out.

"Inside," you order, and every single clone in the room groans at your reply.

Jesse is about to ask if you're certain, but his body gives up before he can speak. Jesse slides his cock as deep as he can, and fills you up, panting and groaning as he releases. He's a debauched, a sweaty mess, possibly still drunk from earlier. Once he's somewhat stable, he slips his cock from you, slowly shuffling off the bed and collapsing on a nearby bunk.

Hardcase kisses your neck, as if to remind you that he's still there, or warning you, since he moves his hands to hold beneath your knees, pulling your knees up against your shoulders, and begins fucking up into your ass.

Your legs are spread, displayed for the other clones to watch as Hardcase ensures that you won't be able to walk for weeks. He's a grunting, sputtering mess beneath you, groaning into the curve of your neck as he chases his release.

A few more thrusts and Hardcase is finishing in your ass, holding your body tight against his as he leaves his mark. You're almost certain you heard a few whimpers from him, meaning his orgasm must have been intense. Eventually, a sweaty Hardcase begins slipping himself from you, being gentle as he rolls you off his chest.

Hardcase has barely removed himself off the bunk before another clone calls out "I'm next," and you look in the direction of the voice to see Dogma slipping his clothes off.

"Dogma? You?" Tup questions.

"Yeah, me!" he states, pointing a finger to himself.

"I didn't think you would," Tup shrugs, and in Tup's defence, you agree with him.

"I thought you'd be the type to tell on us," an exhausted Jesse comments, still laying back on a nearby bunk, spread out and panting heavily.

"Even if he did, I don't think anybody would believe him," Fives adds with a laugh.

"Stop being so mean to him, Troopers. Dogma is just as welcome as everybody else," you defend, and the clone thanks you with a smile.

"As welcome as everybody else?" Fives repeats your word. "Kriff, Commander, I didn't realize you were inviting the entire Legion!" he jokes, and you roll your eyes at Fives's comment, twisting your words cheekily.

You ignore Fives's playful remark, turning your attention to Dogma instead, who's just about finished removing his shirt. "How do you want me, handsome?" you question.

Dogma's eyes light up at your little nickname, and he orders you to "get on your front, hands and knees, and face the boys."

Orders are orders, and you follow them without question. Dogma shuffles in behind you, kneading your ass for a few moments before wrapping his hand around his cock. You're already slick enough, with your own release smeared around your thighs, and a release in both holes, so Dogma doesn't bother using his own spit to slick up his cock. Instead, he glides his cock over your pussy, ensuring the tip of his cock flicks over your clit with every thrust, and once he's satisfied, he begins pushing into your ass.

You let out an "oh," as Dogma slides in, letting out a grunt as he bottoms out. With his hands on your hips, and the signal from you to continue, Dogma begins fucking your ass, gawking over the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing from you. "That's it," he mutters under his breath. "Kriff, you look so good for me."

"For us," Kix intervenes, and Dogma shoots him a grumpy glare.

Dogma is clearly trying to prove his vods wrong, showing them that he wants this, that he won't rat everybody out for breaking so many rules. His thrusts are heavy, the sound of your ass slapping against his pelvis fills up the room, pushing moans from your lips with every thrust. You can feel Hardcase's release slowly being pushed from your ass, settling around your rim, soon to be replaced with Dogmas.

You overhear someone shuffling about, and Kix soon appears in your line of sight. "I'm back," he says with a smile. "Care to continue where we left off?" Kix questions, and lets out a pleasant sigh when you nod in agreement.

This time, you have your hand free, and you wrap it around Kix's cock as the tip slips into your mouth. Dogma's not letting up his thrusts, pushing your head forwards with every roll of his hips, causing you to lightly gag on Kix's length. Kix seems to enjoy it, as do the viewers, and the sensation is alright for you; so, you continue, eventually letting Kix begin thrusting and fucking your mouth, his pace matching Dogmas.

Kix notices the lack of attention on your pussy, and leans forward, hand reaching out to dip beneath your body and help get you off, but Dogma swats his hand away. At first, you're insulted, as is Kix, until Dogma speaks up and explains his actions. "Let's see how long she can last without being touched," he cheekily states, and Kix flashes him a similar smile before looking down at you.

"Sorry, Commander. Orders are orders," Kix shrugs, and returns to fucking your mouth.

You let out a whine, as does Tup, who seems sympathetic at the lack of attention in your key areas. Fives, on the other hand, is hollering, "she won't last long. She'll be begging for it soon!"

Ugh, he's right. Despite already having an orgasm, you're chasing another, eager for that certain-something to help get you off. The more Dogma and Kix fuck you, the more your cunt burns, and when you try to remove your hand from Kix's cock, he wraps his hand around your wrist to prevent you from touching yourself, clicking his tongue with a disapproving "ah-ah!"

"Soon, sweetheart," Dogma says from behind you, and judging from the way his cock is twitching in your ass, you assume he's close.

Dogma picks up his pace, ruining your own pace on Kix's cock - or improving it, as Kix groans when you gag, spit pooling from the corners of your mouth. "So wet," Kix comments under his breath, and returns to fucking your mouth again, grunting and moaning with every thrust.

"Oh, Maker!" Dogma sighs as he pushes his cock as deep as it'll go. With his hands tightly around your hips, he earns his release, filling your ass with hot, sticky cum. Your moan is muffled from Kix's cock, who has slowed his thrusts, almost to a halt. Kix waits for Dogma to finish, and once he's slipped out, he manhandles you into a new position.

Kix rolls you onto your back, legs against the edge of the bed. He's clearly in a rush, his orgasm sitting on the edge, and he hurries to slide his cock into your pussy, one leg up on the bed, the other remaining on the floor.

Kix only thrusts a few times before bottoming out and cumming inside, his load mixing with Jesse's, who has finally perked up after passing out on another bunk. "Good girl," Kix mutters as the pad of his thumb presses to your clit, grinding in circles a few times. He's milking his release, slowly fucking you in a hazy post-orgasm state, biting his lip whenever you clench around his overstimulated cock.

When Kix can't take any more, he pulls out, and your clit is left unattended. You can feel his and Jesse's load leaking from you, and your eyes lock onto Tup, who was just eyeing up your cunt, his cheeks turning red at the sight of your sticky, cum soaked pussy.

"We're up, Tup!" Fives says with a laugh, patting his vod on the shoulder, snapping him out of his fixated state. Fives has the audacity to follow up his rhyme with finger guns, causing you to roll your eyes at the cheek of this man.

Tup lets out a "huh?" before realising that it's his turn to play with you. The pair are quick to strip off; Fives leaves his clothes strung over the floor, whilst Tup leaves his on his bunk. Just like the rest of your squad, they're hung, and your holes are already beginning to feel sore at the sight of them.

Fives motions for you to stand, and with extremely wobbly legs, you manage to get up, clinging onto Fives as you do so. "Tup, c'mere and help me out," Fives playfully orders, before turning his focus to you.

He bends down slightly, arms stretched out, and asks for you to wrap your legs around his waist. "Catch her if she falls, Tup," Fives comment, and you hear a soft "oh, kriff," from behind you.

Well, you don't fall. Your legs are wrapped around Fives's waist, hands around his neck, awaiting the next move. Five pauses, staring out into thin air, before realizing his mistake.

"Wait, I want to fuck your ass... Tup, you pick her up," Fives comments, and gently places you back down on the floor, only to spin you around so you're facing Tup instead.

"Idiot," Jesse mutters under his breath, and Fives glares at him over your shoulder.

Tup wraps his arms around your waist, and on his nod, you jump up into his lap. He moves your legs to wrap around his waist, ankles crossing over, and your hands trail up to settle on his shoulders, fingertips playing with his loose strands of hair. Tup, for some reason, is trembling, and you're uncertain if it's from your weight, or his nerves. A soothing kiss on his nose reveals that it's his nerves, as he begins to relax, and your weight is then shared between the two clones as Fives approaches you from behind.

Fives focuses on slipping his cock into your ass, before taking your weight off Tup, allowing him to slide up into your pussy. The pair bottom out, pulling you down onto their lengths, and find an even way to hold your weight, making it easier on everybody.

At first, the pair are an uneven, a sloppy mess, struggling to find the right rhythm. Despite their lack of sync, you're still enjoying yourself, but the second they finally sync up, it's game over. With your hands desperately clinging onto Tup's shoulders, you roll your head back against Fives's shoulder, moaning and groaning as the fuck you.

Tup lets out a sigh as he comments "you're so good for us," his hands kneading at your thighs around his waist.

"Isn't she just?" Fives smirks, and his hands on your ass give you a squeeze. "Poor Tup here looks like he's going to cum already," Fives bites at his vod, and Tup sends him a disappointed glare.

"Play nice, you two," you softly order, not wanting to be stuck in the middle of their play fight.

They let out a "yes, Commander," as their thrusts continue, the sound of synced up skin against skin echoing around the dorm room.

However, the sound of the door opening makes everybody jump out of their skin, and you all turn with wide eyes to see none other than Captain Rex entering the room. Fives and Tup come to a halt, Jesse sits up on his bunk, and everybody awaits Rex's move.

Rex, with a stern expression, reaches a hand out to press the lock button on the dorms' door. "You forgot to lock it," he states, then tuts and shakes his head, scolding his men for their sloppiness.

Rex is still in uniform, his helmet tucked under his arm. The sound of heavy footsteps slowly approaches you, Tup, and Fives, and all three of you watch as Rex comes to a halt in front of you. You gulp, despite being a higher ranking than Rex, and despite knowing that he is also in on this.

The expression Rex gives you sends a shiver down your spine; he raises a single brow, slowly eyeing all of you up and down, before his lips finally trail into a smirk. A gloved hand reaches out and finds its way between your legs, instantly settling over your clit. Rex begins to slowly rub your clit, the fabric of his gloves giving you that something extra, and he speaks up in his usual, bold, military tone.

"You've got to play with her as you're fucking her, boys," Rex states, smirking as he notices everybody's expressions drop, letting out sighs of relief. "How is she meant to cum if you're not focusing on the right areas?" Rex questions, and gestures for his men to pick up their pace again.

Fives and Tup begin bucking up into you again, still slightly nervous, but lust soon takes over and evens them out. Rex turns his full attention to you, and the deepness of his voice makes your pussy clench. "Have these men served you well?" he questions.

"They have," you mutter, nodding as you speak, eager to express your fondness.

"That's good to hear, Commander," the Captain smirks. His eyes stay glued to yours, and you can't bare to look away. His fingers are working wonders on your clit, and the sensation of Fives and Tup tending to you is swiftly becoming too much. Your breaths become quick and short, and your eyes struggle to stay open. Rex takes not and announces, "she's close, boys."

"Go on, show off for Rex," Fives says against your ear, and Tup nods along in agreement. A few more thrusts and you're clenching around their cocks, both men grunting and moaning as you up their sensation. Rex doesn't stop playing with your clit, at first, until your thighs begin to twitch from overstimulation; only then does he pull away, taking a step back and settling his hands on his hips after placing his helmet down on a nearby bunk.

Tup lets out a whine, and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. "Good boy, Tup," you direct your praise to him, and that alone is enough to make him cum. Tup buries his head into the curve of your neck, groaning against your skin as his load joins the others inside you, most of it oozing out past his cock and dripping to the floor.

"Kriff, guess it's my turn," Fives comments with a light laugh. He buries his head into your other shoulder, kissing and nipping at your skin as he continues fucking your ass. It doesn't take long for Fives to also cum, burying his length up to the base, and groaning when you twitch from overstimulation. "So karking good," Fives mutters, and repeats his compliment as he lifts his head off your shoulder, before kissing your cheek.

Slowly and steadily, the pair lower you, avoiding the slippy patches of cum on the floor that has dripped from both your holes. You're debauched, exhausted in every aspect, and undeniably cock-dumb as Rex approaches and asks "got room for your Captain?"

"Always," you steadily sigh. Rex chuckles at your eagerness, then gestures for you to get comfortable on a bunk.

You pick Jesse's bunk, seeing as it's already a mess, plus it's in the centre of everybody's line of sight. Knowing Rex, he'll want to make a show of this, turning it into some training exercise as a way of covering up what is really going on here.

You sit back on the bed, falling back onto your elbows, and watch as Rex approaches. He unfastens his codpiece, discarding it onto a nearby bunk, and pulls his semi-hard cock out from beneath his blacks. The Captain is clean-shaven, thick and girthy, another cock to add onto your 'reasons why I can't walk this week' list.

Rex slips his gloves off before pumping himself with one hand, the other reaching down to trail over your overly sensitive cunt. Gentle fingertips slide over your wet folds, and Rex spreads you apart, revealing the sticky mess leaking from your entrance. "I see they've been keeping you full," Rex comments as his fingers trail up to glide over your clit, pressing firmly and flicking over the bud.

"Very full," you nod along. Your eyes flick to Rex's cock, which is now hard, precum leaking like crazy. Rex notices the way you're looking at his length, and he stops pumping his shaft, holding at the base instead, as if to present it.

"Is this what you want?" he teasingly questions, causing you to shudder.

"Yes, Captain," you nod, and Rex lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Place the order, Commander," Rex orders in his own way.

You lick your lips, followed by clearing your throat, and keep your eyes locked onto your Captains as you state "your orders are to fuck me, Captain."

"Yes, Ma'am."

You overhear a handful of men groan at your tone of voice, no doubt working themselves up again. "I'll show you boys how it's done," Rex says with a smug laugh as he moves both of his hands to your knees, and slowly pushes them up until they're almost pressing your shoulders, folding your body in half. He keeps one hand on your knee, the other holding the base of his cock as he begins slipping into you.

It isn't until you feel cold plastoid pressing against your body that you realize he's still in uniform.

Rex is fucking you with his armour on? Oh.

The sound that Rex lets out as he bottoms out is one that will forever play on repeat in the back of your mind. He holds himself there, scrunching his eyes shut as he regains focus, enticed by how wet and warm you feel. Once Rex has evened out, he begins thrusting into you, and oh Kriff, this man does not hold back.

With your body folded in half, Rex is able to drive his cock even deeper, his tip brushing over your g-spot with every thrust. Your legs find their way around his upper back, ankles locking over each other, and to encourage Rex, you press your heel against his back, urging him to give you all he's got. Rex's eyes meet yours, a single brow raised, and he makes a brief comment about how needy you are.

You're already a babbling mess, and Rex has only just begun! No doubt, you'll pass out the second he's finished with you, but your men are here to pick up the pieces, labelling you as a war hero for helping them during such desperate times.

"How're you doing, sweetheart?" Rex questions, affectionate eyes locking onto your half-lidded ones.

"G-good," is all you can reply, and Rex chuckles at your cock-dumb mentality.

When words fail, actions speak, and Rex dips his head down to introduce his lips to yours. Despite his heavy thrusts, the kiss is steady, adding to your overstimulation. You've always been fond of your Captain, but you could never quite put your finger on why; now you've got it - it's because he fucks so kriffing good!

As the kiss breaks, you reach around Rex's neck, hands clasping onto his back, attempting to rake your nails into his slippery armour. Rex lets out a soft laugh before kissing along your neck, leaving his mark below where your Jedi robes sit - what a smart man.

"Rex, I'm-" you blurt out.

"I know, sweetheart," Rex replies in a soothing voice, only for his tone to turn stern as he questions "you're going to cum for me, aren't you, Commander?"

Your reply can't seem to leave your lips, so you nod in response. Rex chuckles at your desperation, and to your surprise, he stops what he's doing. His thrusts come to a sharp halt, and he quickly slips his cock from you, leaving you with your mouth hanging open.

Just as you're about to question what he's doing, as are the other clones, he sits on the end of the bed beside you and slips two fingers into your cunt, instantly curling them and fucking you where he left off.

Rex clearly knows something you don't, but you allow him to take the ropes, especially as your orgasm is on the edge. There's a strange sensation in your gut, something you haven't quiet felt before, and judging from the way it's growing with Rex's movements, you assume you'll soon find out.

"Watch and learn, boys," Rex states, but keeps his eyes focused, locked onto yours.

You're putty in his grasp, mewling on the bed, not bothering to hold back on your moans. You're about to cum, any second now, but that foreign sensation takes over instead. Suddenly, everything becomes too much, especially Rex's fingers hitting that soft spot inside you over and over. You yelp as something takes over your body, an orgasm of some kind; on shaky elbows, you rush to prop yourself up, gazing down to watch in amazement as you squirt all over your Captain's arm, the liquid coating his plastoid armour.

"Good girl," Rex coos through gritted teeth, repeating the praise, but doesn't let up just yet. Kriff, you're screaming, even with your hand over your mouth. You fall back onto the bed, clawing at the sheets as this orgasm lasts longer than usual.

Even after you squirt, Rex continues fucking you with his fingers, as if to ensure that you're empty. He eventually calms down, and only then does your volume begin to drop, revealing the vast amount of praise from your troopers.

"That was beautiful, Commander!" Fives calls out.

"Kriff, she's shaking," you overhear Tup comment.

Jesse whines "my karking bed is soaked..." under his breath, which makes you smile to yourself. He was the one to suggest his bed, so he can lie in his wet grave!

A gentle stroke of your hair makes you open your eyes, only to meet Kix, who's gazing down at you. "Are you alright?" he questions.

"Uh-huh," you lazily nod, and he smiles at your exhaustion. Kix slowly props you up, letting you fall back against him. Your eyes trail to Rex, who looks almost as tired as you do. He's wiping something off his thigh, and if your calculations are correct, his thigh was out of your splash zone.

"Did you cum?" you ask Rex, who looks up at you with a tired smile. He nods in confirmation.

"Untouched," Rex states, and you take pride in making him cum in such a way.

You have a sudden burst of energy, and use it to lean forwards and thank your Captain with a kiss. Rex smiles against your lips before playfully nipping at your bottom lip, earning a sarcastic comment of "get a room!" from Jesse.

"I think we should get you into the refresher instead," Rex comments as he breaks the kiss.

"As good as that sounds, I can't walk," you sigh, and attempt to gesture to your jelly-like body, only for your arms to flap about and fall flat at your sides.

Rex laughs at your exhaustion, then informs you that he'll run you a bath instead. You look at him with a surprised expression, to which he states "I know, I wasn't expecting the GAR to treat us to baths, either."

Rex leaves you in the company of Kix, who begins checking over your body whilst asking you over and over if you're alright.

------

A nice, hot bath doesn't take long for Rex to run. Hardcase, now in his blacks, with caution, picks you up and carries you to the dorms' refresher. He's extra gentle as he places your feet on the tile floor, keeping his arm around your waist to steady yourself as you slowly enter the bath.

Hardcase steals a kiss from you, muttering "thanks for tonight, Commander," against your lips before leaving you to it.

Kix enters the second Hardcase exits, bringing you a glass of water and a certain prevention pill. "Let me know if you need anything," he informs you before kissing your forehead and leaving you to relax.

Only for Fives to come barrelling in, instantly blabbering on about how good you were. "I always assumed you'd be quite the slut, but... well, I wasn't expecting that," Fives playfully jabs, and insists that "we should all do it again some time!"

Dogma peers his head around the door and barks at Fives to leave you alone, but the second he shoos Fives out, he replaces the emptiness with himself instead. "Eh, Fives is right," Dogma comments, referring to Fives statement. "But don't tell him I said that," he grumbles as he steals a kiss from you.

You stretch back in the bath, enjoying the GAR assigned bubbles, and just when you think you're alone, Tup appears. "I don't want to smother you..." he sheepishly comments, "but I wanted to thank you for tonight." You can't help but laugh at Tup's kind demeanour, and the smile remains on your lips as Tup offers you a massage.

You accept, under the cheeky condition that Tup joins you in the bath. His cheeks turn pink at your suggestion, and continue turning pink the more he undresses. Tup even attempts to cover himself up as he settles in the bath with you, making you giggle once more.

Tup has your back resting against his chest, tenderly burying his fingertips into your damp skin, softening out those tight areas. You overhear commotion outside, and both of you laugh as it unfolds.

"No fair! Tup's in there having another round with her!" Fives protests, his voice thudding through the thickness of the refresher door.

"Leave her alone, Fives. She's a free woman, she can do what she wants!" Somebody defends, and you're almost certain it's Dogma.

"They're just cuddling, leave them alone," Rex intervenes, and you know it's Rex from his firmness and slight difference in tone.

Following the Captain's orders, you and Tup are left to it, cuddling and lazily washing each other. Once the water turns cold, you both make your exit, drying yourselves off and gawking when Tup lets down his hair, only to refasten it into another, fresh manbun.

A pair of blacks has been left for you on the side, and despite them being a little big, they still fit snugly. As you exit the refresher, the first thing you notice is that Jesse's bed has been completely stripped, bedding in the wash. The dorm is clean, and your clothes and bag have been folded and placed on Jesse's empty bed.

"I guess I'm staying the night," you comment, and gesture to ask who you're bundling up with.

Before anyone can get a word in, the Captain speaks up. "I missed out on most of the night, so I'd like to catch up with you."

You're unsure if 'catch up' means have a chat, or wake up to find Rex spoon-fucking you, but either way, you're down. With a nod of confirmation, you begin settling in for the night, curling up in Rex's bunk as he continues changing from his armour into a fresh pair of blacks to sleep in.

"Wait a minute," Jesse intervenes. "Where am I sleeping?" he questions, setting his hands on his hips with frustration.

"You can go give Tup a cuddle, he loves them, apparently," Fives maliciously comments, sending playful, yet bold daggers at his vod.

"Ah, leave Tup alone," Dogma defends him.

Before Fives can take another jab, Hardcase barks up with "we can spoon!" And Jesse doesn't look too pleased at his suggestion.

"You can join us, Jesse," Rex disgruntledly states.

"You do know these beds are singles, right?" Jesse states as he gestures to the small, single beds, barely big enough for one clone, let alone two, and you.

"Yes, but from what I've seen, the Commander likes it when she has a clone pressed up on either side of her," Rex teases, side-eyeing you as he comments.

An array of laugher fills the air, and Jesse nods in agreement. You remain quiet, as there's no point denying something that is blatantly true!

The lights are soon turned out, and the boys take it in turns to say goodnight to each other. In the dark, you feel Rex join you, manhandling you into position. Your head finds Rex's chest, an arm sprawled out underneath your neck, and your arm wraps around Rex's waist. Jesse then joins, and since your back is free, he decides to spoon you, trapping you perfectly in your 501st sandwich. Before falling asleep, you make a minor comment to Rex, as if to apologize for him not being there tonight. "We'll make sure you come with us next time," you quietly comment, referring to 79's, the venue that lead you here.

Jesse chuckles before mentioning how wild the night went. "You should have seen her, Captain. She's the sluttiest woman in the galaxy, grinding on Hardcase whilst making out with me," Jesse explains, and you lightly elbow him in the ribs for leaking so much information. A few men can be heard giggling in their bunks, if only you could elbow them too.

"Oh really?" Rex responds, his pitch heightening him as he asks. "Well, I'll definitely be there next time, and I'll ensure that I make up for my lack of presence," Rex promises, and knowing Rex, this is a promise he'll keep.

"I can't wait," you reply, softly yawning against Rex's chest.

"Neither can I," Fives comments from across the dorm, earning a giggle from Hardcase.

"Alright, men. That's enough. Go to sleep," Rex orders.

"Yeah, Captain's orders," you playfully comment, earning yet another sea of giggles.

Within time, the bunch calm down, and the air is soon graced with the soothing sounds of snoring clones. It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep, as your exhausted body is begging for some rest. You doze off, sandwiched snugly between an ARC Trooper and the Captain of the 501st.

What a dream!!!!

[impala-dreamer]

My bestiebitch @kittenofdoomage posted a thing today, saying, what I’m sure a lot of creators out there have been feeling. I know she and I have spoken about it a lot, and that it will probably ring true for a lot of long-standing blogs on here, writers and creators of any kind. 

Interaction is down. Reblogs are barely existant. Asks are not a thing anymore. Feedback is basically a relic of Tumblr past. 

Whenever anyone posts anything on this topic, they’re immediately bombarded with placations or well wishes, and a lot of times, lectures about how notes are not important, and how one should be grateful for the notes they get. 

Yes. We agree. And we are grateful. That’s not the issue. 

Let’s say you have 10 followers, and out of those 10, the same awesome person comments, reblogs, interacts with everything you do. You’re not going to not be totally in love with them and their attention- because, believe me, we are- but that doesn’t take away from the feeling of disappointment in yourself, feeling that you have let down the other 9 followers because they don’t seem to like what you’re doing. 

And yes- you should not write for notes. You should write for yourself. WE KNOW and WE DO. But- we SHARE for YOU. and we SHARE to share our excitement over a story or a project or a theory. We share it so that hopefully someone else will come over, read it, and then scream with us about it. We Share in hopes of finding other people to frolic through the fields of fandom with. We share to bring joy/tears/arousal to others because we love to share. If we share to an empty room, it honestly makes us figure that no one wants what we have, so we’ll just keep our mouths shut. 

When I first started writing, I used Fanfiction.net (look it up, I’m old)... and I was into it, but it didn’t really get that feeling of fandom from it. I tried A03, but honestly, I never liked their format, and it just feels like I’m pinning a sticky note on a giant billboard. I use it, but I don’t love it. I did not find the sense of joy, community, fun, fandom, until I came to Tumblr. There is something so special about this fucking horrific hellsite that cannot be matched anywhere else, at least for me. The ability to read something and go “well fuck, I like this person” and then go make friends with them?? learn about them from their blog?? like actually hangout with them?? that’s - insane and amazing. I love Tumblr for that reason. 

Believe me, I’ve been through some NASTYFUCKINGSHIT on this blog, behind the scenes and on stage. There have been things gone down that have sent me to the brink, things that they would make horror movies out of. Things that I cannot even explain. AND YET I STAY. Why? Because of the fandom, the joy, that interaction with other fans, that sense of community. That need to reach through a screen and make a friend, talk to people, be alone in my room yet totally attached to the world that I want to live in. For THAT, for YOU, I’ve stayed. 

Lately, it feels like I’m alone in my room and in the world. 

Is the actual world outside turned to shite? Yes. Is life in general weighing down on everyone’s back like boulders? Yes. 

But shouldn’t this be the time to come together? To seek out the excitement of fandom and remove ourselves from the crap outside? 

Idk. Maybe I’m just ranting here, but whatever. it’s still my blog. The point is...

We, the creators, are not complaining about notes. We’re not blaming anyone for anything. We’re not crying for attention. No- wait, we are. We’re screaming for that community to come back! We’re standing on a box with a paper megaphone yelling “HEY COME FREAK OUT WITH ME ABOUT THIS PORN I JUST BANGED OUT, PUN INTENDED!” We miss you. We miss what tumblr used to be. we miss being able to reach out into the void and grab a hand. 

So, no, it’s not about notes. It’s about community. It’s about missing the fandom. It’s about being scared that it’s all falling apart and wanting to know what we can do to help hold it together. 

We write because we want to live in a better place. We share because we want to bring you with us. All we’re asking is for you to let us know you’re on board. 

Much love, babes. 💖

[maximumninjavoid]

Mining for Unobtanium ch 37

Under 18? Go away.

Think that pay wall Tumblr is a great idea? Go FURTHER away.

NSFW, secks, unbetaed, posted on my phone so sorry for the shite formatting too

Time, time and again I see you staring down at me

Now, then and again I wonder what it is that you see

With those angry eyes

Well, I bet you wish you could cut me down

With those angry eyes

You want to believe that I am not the same as you

And now I can't conceive, oh lord, of what it is you're trying to do

With those angry eyes

Well, I bet you wish you could cut me down

With those angry eyes

What a shot you could be if you could shoot at me

With those angry eyes

You and I must start to realize

Blindness binds us in a false disguise

Can you see me through those angry eyes?

You try to defend that you are not the one to blame

But I'm finding it hard, my friend, when I'm in the deadly aim

Of those angry eyes

Well, I bet you wish you could cut me down

With those angry eyes

What a shot you could be if you could shoot at me

With those angry eyes

He reached for me. That huge hand, connected to that big ass bicep, that impossible shoulder, all coming toward me at the speed of imperceptible light and I ‘eeepped’. I couldn’t help it. You try facing that down, see how you do, knowing he is……….. Displeased. Hey, to my credit, I didn’t run, nor did I pee myself. I mean, for an instant, those ~may have been options~. Dishes went flying off the day bed and my face went into the covers. He had a grip on the hair I did have; just enough to grab, apparently and I heard the teeth of his zipper. My pha biang was wrapped around my elbows down to my wrists and it seemed as though resistance was futile.

He slid between my thighs and entered me. I felt every massive inch of his girth and my traitorous body stretched to accommodate him. God, I was already wet. This was no romantic “oh baby I have missed you love making”. I would best describe this as a grudge fuck. Ruthlessly he pounded into me, punishing my pussy, grabbing my hips to get a better angle, thrusting deeper, harder, chasing his release knowing I was just twisted and bent enough to be enjoying the daylights out of this as well. 

“ Damn you. You RUINED me. She. Wasn’t. YOU.” Each word was punctuated with a thrust that slammed into my cervix and knocked the breath out of me. He pulled up on my hair and bit my neck where it joined my shoulder. “ and then you made. Me. Chase. You.” More punishing thrusts. My lizard brain wondered how long he could keep that up and my wizard brain hoped he kept going despite the fact that I knew I was going to be sore as all get out. 

“ Henry….”

“ Don’t . You. DARE !”

“ Daddy………..”

He stopped; fully seated in me as far as he could go, somewhere in my lower rib cage. I felt him shudder, and he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me to him so his chest was touching my back, fused as one entity, his legs on top of mine. I felt his cock pulse and thick ropes of cum fill me, and he collapsed on top of me spent. I really missed this weighted blanket of a human.  I tried to move my arms and couldn’t and he sensed my wriggling and loosened my pha biang and tossed it aside. “ I am less angry. “ “ Well that’s good to know” “ I really should shove my cock into that smart mouth of yours” “ if that pleases you….” “ Cheeky” “ it’s a character defect, I’m working on it”. We laid there a while, and I guess Ganesha left because I broke the silence and asked him if he wanted to talk about it yet. 

“ It was so much like that stalker. She hunted me down, you know? It seemed so calculated.”

“ Well, you hunted me down………”  “ it’s not the same thing” I waited for more.

“ She was looking for a way to enhance her career, I think. It wasn’t really about me. And that’s the part that hurts the most. I didn’t see it. How did I miss that?  That’s what I need you to teach me. I keep making these disastrous choices, and you are the one who sees me, who I am. And I know, intellectually, that you couldn’t stay but I still get to be angry about it. And when you leave again, I have every intention of being furious again, you know”.

At least he knew I was going to leave again. I nodded. "You lead with your heart. I don't want to teach you not to do that. That would be criminal. I couldn't be a party to that…" 

He laid out the plan, a day or two to center ourselves in Nepal, then shopping in Bangkok. "Shopping?" I asked. "Well you can't be traipsing after me dressed like a Thai native, I do have an image…" I threw back my head and laughed. "Oh, I get to be the image consultant. And I shall be just left of all the way the fuck out there. Think Tilda Swinton meets David Bowie but very 80's...highly eccentric, I think." I got the one raised eyebrow and a smile. 

"Now, darling boy, if I might be so bold as to request some reciprocity? I believe I am down an orgasm or two…. *

" My Lady…. " he said as he kissed his way down my torso" what is it you're fond of saying? I live to serve? "