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The Terror - Prompt Post 1
This is for prompts for all things AMC's The Terror (2018). Go nuts!
Cast RPF also goes here, shine on you crazy diamonds.
Cast RPF also goes here, shine on you crazy diamonds.
If you've filled (or started filling) a prompt, please make sure to link it in the comments of the Fills Post. And if you would like to cross-post your fills on AO3, here is the collection!
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Just to reiterate from the Mod Post, here are the RULES:
1. Be fucking nice. YKINMATO/KINKTOMATO at all times.
2. This meme is CNTW (Choose Not To Warn) but warnings are highly encouraged.
3. Prompts should use this format in the subject line: [SHIP], [DESCRIPTION]
e.g.
Hickey/Crozier, CNC knifeplay
Solo gen can be prompted as well alongside (a) character name and description
e.g.
Gen, Edward Little, having a nice day
4. Fills should use this format in the subject line: FILL: [TITLE], [PAIRING], [RATING], [ANY WARNINGS]
e.g.
Fill: The Last Hour, Hickey/Tozer, E, cw dubcon
5. One prompt per comment please.
6. Multiple fills for each prompt are welcome!
7. You don't have to be anon for your prompts or your fills but we do encourage it because of the vibe. You're also welcome to deanon your stuff by posting on AO3/Tumblr as you please!
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FILL: coming apart, Solittle (fem!ned), M, breeding kink
(Anonymous) 2023-01-03 02:30 am (UTC)(link)He looks at her like he can see straight through her, sometimes. All the way down beneath her skin, to all the raw, vulnerable parts underneath — the things that Ned’s been ashamed of for so long, she sometimes forgot she existed beyond them. But when Sol cups her in his big, broad hands, his stubble harsh against her soft skin, his gaze burning into her, his mouth searching like he wants to claim… she can forget all of it in the overwhelming presence of him.
“That’s it,” he rumbles, and his voice is as rough as his palms, where they grip her hips with great force. He thrusts hard into her, rocking her very core, and Ned’s head falls back with a sharp cry. “Sing for me, love. You’re so pretty when you sing.”
“Don’t, don’t —" She can’t stand when Sol calls her pretty. He never does, except times like this. Perhaps this is the only time when it’s true.
“Pretty, pretty thing,” he persists, dragging his hands up her slim waist, letting his nails graze the tender flesh of her back. She’s got marks along her ribcage from the old bra she’s been meaning to replace for ages, but has just never got around to — some men would prefer lingerie, but Sol doesn’t mind, and Ned turns cherry at the thought of stepping into a Victoria’s Secret. So it’s this, the crumpled bralette on the floor of Sol’s car; him on top of her, pinning her down in the way that makes Ned feel utterly overwhelmed, and entirely safe; and the red indents on her ashy skin, which he traces with near-reverence.
“Don’t know why you bother,” he mutters. “Haven’t got much there anyway.”
Ned makes a low sound of dismay. She knows, but he doesn’t have to say it.
But Sol grins, and it floods her with heat all over; then he brings a hand up, his calloused fingers kneading into the sensitive mound of her breast, and there’s a new kind of heat.
“Oh — oh god,” Ned gasps, shuddering against him. Sol rolls his body a little, moving inside her, and she whimpers. “Oh, oh…”
“Thought you were gonna be quiet,” Sol murmurs into her shoulder, where he’s sucking a deep, blood-red bruise. “Told me you wouldn’t make a fuss.”
It was called pretending she had dignity, and of course Sol took it as a challenge.
“Nah,” he rumbles, dragging the word along her collarbone. His fingers play with her nipple, and there’s no delicacy in it, no finesse — maybe that’s why Ned writhes beneath him like her world is coming to an end. “They’d never believe it. None of those office toffs, who look right past you; none of the corporate types, who you can’t even look in the eye…”
Ned whines beneath him. He shushes her, cupping her dark, pert nipple and squeezing.
“Never believe the sounds you can make," he murmurs, as Ned keens like a wounded animal. "Never imagine how sweetly you bloom, how you come apart like a flower, layer after layer… ‘til you’re all bare for me. All laid bare.”
He dips down to her breast, all searing lips and hungry mouth.
“And so, so pretty…”
Ned isn’t aware of herself for a while after that. He’s an expert at taking her apart and piecing her back together again; no one can do it quite like Sol, and it would terrify her, if she didn’t find herself craving him like an addict. There’s something intoxicating about being seen so completely. Ned does not like to be seen, has never been able to endure the attention of a room — but being the focus of every ounce of Sol’s attention is overwhelming in a way she cannot resist. He drowns her, every time they come together; she loses herself in waves of pleasure, and cannot come up for air until he lets her.
It’s while she’s laying beneath him, limp and dizzy, still shuddering from the effects of the last great wave, that he says out of nowhere, “I’d like them all to know it.”
She looks up, dark eyes misty as she blinks at him. It feels like she’s seeing him through a haze; it’s an exceedingly pleasant feeling.
“To know… me like this?” The entire office? (Damn it, why does that idea actually excite her?) “What, and you’d… watch?”
Sol chuckles, low and rumbling. The sound ripples through Ned’s entire body.
“Not a chance, love. No, you’re all mine.” (And damn it, that simple phrase shouldn’t leave her as dizzy with pleasure as it does.) “I mean,” he murmurs, massaging his hands up and down her waist like a sandpaper caress, “to prove it to them. Prove you spread your legs so nicely, how you moan like a whore when I touch you right… prove your body’s a thing of bloody wonder under them office clothes, and they just don’t see it ‘cause they haven’t been looking.” His thumbs massage into the soft flesh of Ned’s stomach; she shudders with her whole body. “I want them all to look at you and know.”
“Know —“ Ned’s voice cuts off in a breathy whine. Her cheeks are flushed a fierce red as she manages to pant: “Know I’m yours?”
Sol grins. “Know you’re mine. All mine.”
“Oh god.” Ned isn’t sure why her voice is wavering, or why her throat feels so tight. “Oh god…”
“You want that, too?” Sol asks, low and fierce. “You wanna show off how naughty you’ve been?”
“Want them to— to look at me,” she manages to gasp. “To know… to see you’ve been there…”
“To see how gorgeous you are,” Sol agrees, and Ned sobs.
One of his hands cups hers, very gently. If it’s too much, they both know, she can just squeeze twice, and he’ll stop. They’ve had to do it before, and Sol’s never been cross with her for it… but right now, it’s not too much. It’s just enough.
“Your body…” Sol growls low in his throat, caressing Ned like a precious thing. “Wanna make you mine for everyone to see it. Wanna leave my mark behind when I go… want everyone to look at you and want you like starving animals, but you’re so full up with me, can’t even think about anyone else…”
Ned’s grinding against him again, writhing against his thigh. She just can’t help it. Her dark hair clings to her face in sweat-slick tendrils; her tiny chest heaves like she’s running a marathon. She’s got stubble burn on her neck, between her breasts, along her thighs. A damp stain is spreading beneath her, soling Sol’s car seat.
“You’re so pretty,” Sol murmurs, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Then: “You’d be so pretty with my baby in you.”
And, Jesus Christ, Ned has never given a thought to motherhood in her life (past the obligatory, “no, Mum, I’m just focusing on my career right now” conversations which become a plague once a woman reaches thirty) but something in the way Sol says that…
“Yes,” she exhales. “Oh god, yes!”
Sol pauses. Clearly he didn’t know how that would go over; Ned’s reaction is more enthusiastic than he could have hoped for.
“Yeah?” he rumbles. “You’d like that? Being all full of me… feeling it take root inside you… getting all heavy with it. Carrying it around every minute of every day, a reminder of what a little slut you’ve been —“
Ned shudders, unable to restrain an eager, earnest noise.
“But it’s alright, see, ‘cause we made something wonderful. Even though everyone looks at you and they can just see it… won’t be able to hide it for long, y’know, not with how flat you are… none of your bras will fit anymore, your clothes will get so tight, won’t be able to fit into them smart business suits anymore…”
Ned whimpers.
“Too heavy to run around the office. Too tired to go through your emails. Gonna have to stop working, y’know, ‘cause it’ll just be too much for you in your state…”
“Can’t have a little slut in the office,” Ned whimpers, her eyes rolling with pleasure. Sol chuckles, his thumbs massaging into her flat belly, and shakes his head.
“That’s right. Gonna change your life, it is. They’ll never look at you the same. All ‘cause you just couldn’t help yourself…”
He pulls her up to him, close enough that he can snarl the words right in her ear.
“And everyone who looks at you will know you’re mine.”
Ned comes against his thigh with such violence, it nearly knocks her out cold. Her vision explodes in a haze of white, and she cannot see, cannot think, cannot feel… god, Sol is so heavy against her, he would make her so heavy, he would make her his, oh god…
When she comes down, it takes a few minutes for the afterglow to fade away. Then, she’s left vaguely mortified.
Sol, to his credit, looks just as sheepish, once the high from his own climax dies away.
“Hope that wasn’t too much,” he mutters. “I, uhh — got a bit ahead of meself—“
“No,” Ned says quickly. “It was. Good. It was fine.”
“Fine,” Sol echoes.
“Mmm.” Ned’s eyes flutter; her cheeks are burning red. “Fine.”
They pull themselves together, straightening themselves out as best as they can. By the time they’re finished, they almost look like respectable citizens, not two colleagues who just fucked in the back of a car in the office parking lot.
Sol helps Ned comb through her thick, dark hair — he’s started keeping a brush in his glove compartment, just for her — and tie it back into her neat ponytail. He reclasps her bra for her, clicking his tongue at how tight it is — “gonna buy you a new one one of these days,” he murmurs, as if he knows the first bloody thing about women’s bras — and lets his hands linger for a moment, reverent, before pulling away. Ned rebutting her blouse with the teaspoon of dignity she has left, and feels halfway-sane again.
Until she’s climbing out of his car, and Sol sticks his head out, grinning at her.
“I meant it, y’know. You’d look bleedin’ gorgeous pregnant.”
The door slams before she can begin to process that, and Ned is left feeling like she just got hit by a meteor.
God. Oh god. They don’t have time to unpack any of that.
Shaking the daze out of her head, Ned straightens herself up, and heads back into the office.
Re: FILL: coming apart, Solittle (fem!ned), M, breeding kink
(Anonymous) 2023-01-03 04:47 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: coming apart, Solittle (fem!ned), M, breeding kink
(Anonymous) 2023-01-05 06:12 am (UTC)(link)