Biggles Kinkmeme - Prompts and fills post 1

[tweague]

Welcome to the First Official (not official in any way) Biggles Kinkmeme! Which is, to all intents and purposes, a second round of the splendid Smut4Biggles prompting fest which sholio organised earlier in the year, and operating to remarkably similar rules, just with a slightly different emphasis ^_^

This is the post for leaving your smut prompts and fills! Fills can also be posted to AO3, your own journal, tumblr, or wherever else you fancy - just make sure you let us know here so we can all enjoy them.

EDIT 29/12/24: I've updated the rules to better reflect discussion in the comments / on the Discord about how the kinkmeme should work: please continue to talk to me in the first comment below if you think things need altering / clarifying.

The masterpost of fills from this round of the kinkmeme can now be found here! I'll try to keep it updated.

Rules:

General:

* Unlike the first round, we're trying to think of this one as a kinkmeme (as the name rather suggests) rather than a gift exchange / promptfest sort of affair - though as you'll notice from discussion in the admin comment below, this is a bit of a tricky line to walk!

* This means prompters can leave as many prompt ideas as they like, and original prompters aren't expected to like/comment on/interact with responses to their prompts if they don't want to (though appreciative comments are always welcomed and will probably fuel the production of more smut!)

* We would ask people responding to prompts to be considerate towards original prompters, and only reply directly with a fill if they consider their response to be in the spirit of the original prompt (see below for more details, but basically no pairings other than those originally requested, no DNWs.)

* HOWEVER, sometimes inspiration comes at you sideways, and if your response drifts significantly away from the original prompt there's a good chance we still want to read it! If this is the case, please leave your response as a new comment thread, tag and warn responsibly, and drop a reply to the original prompt to let the prompter know it's there, just in case they're still interested.

Formatting & admin:

* This is a very informal business, so there is no standard prompt format. We suggest you include at minimum a pairing, prompt, and anything you personally don't want (or link to DNWs elsewhere if long). A suggested format might be:

Warnings: (ie if you want to specifically request something that would usually require a warning, eg. noncon, do it here. If you don’t want to opt in to any of these, just leave this section out.)
Pairing:
Prompt:
Do not want:

But use whatever format you like! If possible, please include a short-form version of your pairing and prompt in the subject line (e.g. "Biggles/Algy, postwar hookup") to help with organisation, but it’s not obligatory.

* To fill a prompt, reply to it in a comment with your fill or a link to it. (See above and below for when to reply directly with your fill, and when to start a new comment thread.)

* Any prompt can have multiple fills - we are a multi-cake fandom.

* There is no minimum or maximum fill length. Anything from a couple of sentences to full-length fic is fine.

* Art is OPT IN for this fest, as we're mostly a text-based fandom and some people don't like explicit art, but you may certainly prompt for art, or any other medium!

* Feel free to fill your own prompts! Sometimes inspiration hits you like a sack of bricks.

* You may leave prompts and fills anonymously, but don’t feel that you have to. ** Please let me know if it doesn't work or if there are any issues with this. If people abuse anonymous posting, we'll turn it off. **

* There are no limits to the number of prompts you can post.

Content:

The following content is not permitted here under any circumstances: Nazi RPF, symbols, or kinking on Nazi paraphernalia; direct reply fills that contain prompters' DNWs; slurs that are considered offensive in the present day. Mods may delete or screen comments that break the rules or contain other offensive content not covered above.

* The following content is allowed, but must be properly tagged in the subject line and/or first line of the fill/prompt: Noncon (i.e. rape), Dubcon (i.e. sex pollen, drugged but consensual sex), Character Death, Underage, Self-harm. Do not include this content in direct-reply fills unless the prompter has requested them. **Please let the mod (me!) know if you need a warning added. Please also note that once a comment is replied to it cannot be edited, so replying to a comment to ask for a warning means it must be reposted.**

* Other warnings should be added at your discretion: responsible tagging makes everyone's lives better!

* Fills that are posted in direct reply to a prompt must contain the prompter's requested pairing and only the requested pairing, and must not contain the prompter's DNWs, or the warned-for content outlined above unless directly prompted for. Please do your best to be considerate to the original prompter! No one wants to be faced with a heap of DNWs in their inbox.

* Fills that have drifted away from the terms of a prompt should be posted as new comment threads, though you can link to them in a reply to the original prompt if adequately tagged.

* Fills do not have to contain explicit sex - you're welcome to write non-explicit, aftermath, suggestion, sound-effects only, etc etc.

* This is a kink meme, but you don't have to prompt only for kinks! This post is all about the smut, so perhaps leave your casefic dreams at the door, but if the smut your heart desires is your two (or three, or four) favourites having some delightfully vanilla sex, then go ahead and prompt for it! We are kink supportive, and that includes supporting when you just desperately need your faves to have a lovely evening.

* Crossovers are fine to prompt as long as they contain at least one character who appears in the Biggles books.

* Prompts may also include characters not directly involved in the pairing, such as "Biggles/EvS & Algy, Algy walks in on them."

* Feel free to comment on other people’s prompts with comments, encouragement, requests for clarification, etc, but obviously kink or pairing shaming is likely to be met with the ban hammer.

* By leaving prompts and fills, you know you will see explicit content, and may witness content you don't like. Please read responsibly.

The first round of Smut4Biggles can be found here: Smut4Biggles
And the list of completed fills from the first round is here: Round 1 Fills
I hope to put together a post of unfilled prompts from Round 1, just for ease of access - I’ll link it from here when I’ve done it.

Comments

Questions and clarifications!

[tweague]

If anyone has any questions, comments, etc on how the kinkmeme is being run, please drop a reply to this comment!

Re: Questions and clarifications!

[(Anonymous)]

Is this more of a request/fill for prompter event, or a ‘here’s a bunch of ideas, have at them’ event? I had been thinking the latter while throwing prompts at the wall: that if someone likes an idea they can write anything they want within the bounds of the prompt, and more than one person can write to a prompt if they want, and it’s not really FOR the prompter. But please let me know!!

Biggles/von Stalhein, fisting

[tweague]

Aannnnnnd I'll get the ball rolling by prompting for some filth so no one else has to feel awkward!!

Pairing: Biggles/von Stalhein
Prompt: FISTING. There, I said it. WEJ did not obsess for forty years over Biggles’ dainty little hands for us not to write a single story about him inserting one in von Stalhein. Other than that, I am pretty easy on details - I feel like it would combine pretty well with subspace!vS, but I could just as easily read him as an extremely active and enthusiastic participant. Writer’s choice, really. Pre or post-Hatchet, whatever floats your boat. Extremely consensual, please, except inasmuch as Biggles would probably think it was a truly terrible idea and vS might have to talk him into it. vS absolutely blissed out of his mind on over-stimulation definitely a bonus.
Do not want: eh, the usual, no Nazis, no non-con, no scat, no vore, etc etc, the usual dead dove stuff. I very much want both parties to have a lovely time!

Biggles/EvS, Established Relationship

[sheron]

I still want all the things for these two, I love this ship!

Pairing: James "Biggles" Bigglesworth/Erich von Stalhein

Prompt:
Either Biggles discovers the secret truth that Erich loves verbal praise and gives him some, or Erich realizes Biggles needs Erich to demonstrate how completely-gone-on-him Erich is to truly believe it. Bonus if this combines with my other love, sex in a romantic/exotic location.

DNW: hard kinks, noncon, crossdressing, flowery euphemisms for sex (use 'cock' or 'dick' please), any kind of discussion of aging in fic, characters physically harming one another (accidental hurt or to save the person is fine), characters in a romantic relationship not finding each other deeply attractive, Erich calling him "Biggles" except in some undercover situation, significant divergence from canon (e.g. modern day au is a no) although "Erich defected early" is fine

Biggles/EvS, EvS experiencing subspace and/or subdrop during or after sex

[sholio]

I continue to be hopelessly predictable.

Pairing: Biggles/EvS

Prompt: I just want Biggles accidentally discovering the secret Erich nuclear code for "makes him go completely limp/off his head/ultra cuddly" and the two of them reacting to that. Exact details are up to you - maybe it's their first time and Erich is just Like This during sex and Biggles either didn't know, or failed to fully realize what it would be like; maybe they've had sex before but Erich never really trusted enough to let himself go completely and then he does; maybe he's relatively unchanged during sex but then completely *goes down* afterwards and Biggles has to deal with that. Or even, Erich keeps holding himself back and Biggles can't figure out what he's doing wrong and it turns out that Erich is trying his best *not* to do this because he's afraid Biggles would react badly.

In general I'm a complete sucker for the two of them trying imperfectly to figure out how to make the other one happy, with awkward missteps along the way, fumbling their way to a happy outcome.

Lots of cuddling and petting a definite plus.

Do not want: a fully modern understanding of BDSM with safewords and so on (they can know something about it based on past experience or talking to other people, or nothing at all, but I really don't want it to be a completely up-to-date 2024-era BDSM scene); misunderstandings are fine but I don't want an unhappy ending.

Biggles/EvS(/Algy) - punishment, toys, orgasm denial

[(Anonymous)]

After Sakhalin, EvS eventually joins the team on missions. Biggles is dismayed at how reckless EvS is with his own life, and how little impact his pleading for EvS to take care is having. Someone (Algy?) suggests to Biggles that it’s EvS’s way of undergoing penance and punishment.

Biggles decides that if EvS wants punishment, he can be the one to dictate it.

Toys at the discretion of the writer. You may wish to consider something that is designed to be worn, discretely, all day. Have remote control devices been invented yet? Entirely up to you. How good is EvS at keeping a poker face in company in these circumstances? How much punishment does Biggles think is needed before EvS can be broken from his self-destructive streak?

Re: Biggles/EvS(/Algy) - punishment, toys, orgasm denial

[tweague]

*SHRIEKS*

Double plus yes please.

Gimlet/Bertie, riding crop

[philomytha]

Gimlet/Bertie and a riding crop. Could be ace kink, or not. I think Gimlet probably would be the one using the crop, but the more I think about it the more I can see both options, so, writer's choice! DNW either of them under 18.

FILL: Gimlet/Bertie, riding crop

[rosanicus]

"D'you think the horse will mind that I've broken in the crop?"

Gimlet did not dignify this comment with a response. The crop was the same one which he planned to use for a polo match the following day, well-maintained since the turn of the century and passed down from father to son with minor fanfare. He was currently engaged in tracing the tip of it - the flat, rounded shape of the keeper concealing the whip-like terminus - over the pale skin of Bertie's arse.

"Quiet," he said, icy and firm.

Bertie squirmed slightly against the silk tying him to the bedframe; of course it didn't shift an inch. Knots tied by Gimlet King would not be defeated by the feeble wriggling of a man in the throes of passion. His flushed face pressed into the cool silk of the pillowcase like a man dying of thirst at an oasis.

"Stop that," Gimlet snapped. "Take it nicely and I might let you get off this evening." Bertie knew this was no empty threat; he shuddered at the memory of similar evenings, and resolved to remain still as much as he could.

It was usually a losing game, but when the game was this much fun he didn't mind the loss so much.

Gimlet was still fully clothed, of course. This little arrangement of theirs was not one of mutual satisfaction, although Gimlet seemed satisfied enough when Bertie scraped himself out of bed each time. His only concession to informality was that he had removed his jacket, but his cuffs were still buttoned. The silk tying Bertie to the bedposts was from his own wardrobe; Gimlet would hardly concede his own tie collection for such a salacious purpose.

With his face in the pillow Bertie couldn't see Gimlet's face, but he could imagine the gleam in his eyes as he tested the crop against his own hand, the swish of it cutting through the air sending a thrill down Bertie's nerves. It felt like the best parts of racing, when you took a corner at speed and were half a second from disaster or making history.

The first lash against his backside came moments later, fast and precise. He had barely enough time to gasp in pain before another followed, then another. The sharp crack before each strike gave his body enough time to tense in anticipation. Half a dozen strokes in rapid succession, then Gimlet paused. Bertie could hear his breath, heavier now, and imagined the rush of blood to his face.

"Count them, from now on," Gimlet ordered. Bertie nodded against the pillow, now much warmer, trying not to press down into the mattress below him.

He made it to sixteen before he lost count. Strikes against his inner and upper thighs interrupted the rhythm he had started to count on, thin stripes of pain radiating into a stinging ache which would last at least a few days.

The mix of pain and pleasure was difficult to make sense of while also remembering basic arithmetic, and Bertie stammered out a hesitant, "Four- fif- seventeen?" as Gimlet continued to hit him in the measured, particular way that he had.

After that, it was easy to sink into the sensation. That was the point of the exercise, after all.

Biggles/EvS - dubcon, punishment, forced orgasm

[(Anonymous)]

Pre-Hatchet, Biggles and EvS are separately undercover in the Bad Guys’^tm organisation. EvS slips up/his cover is suspect/both their covers are suspect and the Bad Guy orders Biggles to punish EvS to prove his allegiance and to get EvS to confess who he’s working for. If Biggles doesn’t, both will be killed. Bad Guy suggests something genuinely horrific. Biggles says dismissively that a man like EvS would never break under physical pain.

Prolonged and unrelenting pleasure, on the other hand…

(EvS sees that the alternative is unavoidable and much, much worse. Plus, if there’s anyone he would trust to do this, it’s Biggles. He’s still going to have extremely complicated feelings about it all though.)

Algy/EvS - dubcon, punishment, forced orgasm

[(Anonymous)]

If you’d prefer for this to be Algy/EvS, knock yourself out!

Any/Any - dubcon, cursed

[(Anonymous)]

A is just going about their day when they’re cursed to become aroused when B does X, and to come untouched when B does Y.

How long can/does A keep it a secret? What happens when the effects of the curse are discovered by B?

Crack or played straight - everything is author’s choice!

Biggles/EvS/Algy - competition

[(Anonymous)]

Biggles and Algy have a competition as to who can make EvS come the most number of times in a 24 hour period. The rule is he’s not allowed to find out about the bet. (Whether he does, and how he feels about it, is up to the author - in the context of a happy, consensual relationship though).

Bonus points if one of them starts arguing that they did X and that should count as a double because EvS responded by Y.

Re: Biggles/EvS/Algy - competition

[tweague]

This is a *fabulous* prompt. Did you envisage it as Biggles and Algy seeing who can make Erich come most times in a single day, or that they each get a 24 hour period to work with and compare notes?

Biggles/EvS or Algy/EvS - unexpectedly gentle comfort sex

[(Anonymous)]

EvS and your blorbo of choice have an ‘it’s complicated’ thing going on. No-one ever stays the night. It’s irresistible, angry, passionate, messy.

This time, EvS is spiralling in self-loathing and anger and what he thinks he wants is violent oblivion but what he gets is kindness, and slow, sweet, gentle sex, where he’s worshipped and pleasured and kissed and made to feel about as whole, and worthy of love, as it’s possible for him to feel.

Re: Biggles/EvS or Algy/EvS - unexpectedly gentle comfort sex

[uncommonlamp]

Hello op! Fantastic prompt, this scratches such an itch for me with these characters.

Is there any timeline on this? Did you imagine the "angry messy" sex happening pre-hatchet and "beautiful gentle" sex happening post-hatchet? Or would you prefer it to be all prior to sakhalin for maximum confusion and complicated emotions™?

DM me if you wanna talk about it in detail! I'd love to write something for this :)

Any (trans masc)/Any - vaginal fingering, cunnilingus

[(Anonymous)]

The squadron has a tendency to blow off steam after stressful missions by having wild, unabashed sex with whoever’s around and willing.

A is trans, and, to keep the secret, obviously never joins in even though they’d like to.
B (gender identity at the discretion of author) finds out/suspects/is confided to by a distressed A after exactly the type of mission that would otherwise result in comfort/oblivion sex.

B proceeds to demonstrate extremely skilfully and thoroughly that they are not at all fazed by A’s revelation.

Re: Any (trans masc)/Any - vaginal fingering, cunnilingus

[gattycat]

hello op, if ok pls dm me i have thoughts i just want to check with you!

EvS solo (/Biggles), sexual fantasies

[philomytha]

EvS is clearly a man who has spent many long years thinking about Biggles in bed alone, extensively, with details - what are his fantasies like and do they change over time?

Re: EvS solo (/Biggles), sexual fantasies

[sweetsorcery]

I happen to have a WIP that fits this rather well. I'm not sure if I'll be able to finish it all that soon, but I'll see what I can do.

Erich/Marie - light BDSM in established relationship

[rietta89]

Pairing: Erich/Marie

Prompt: (Established relationship; set anywhere between 1918 and 1930; preferably in an AU where they are married/in a relationship that they believe has a future)
I would very much love fic exploring how Erich's submissive streak in the bedroom fits into his relationship with Marie - does he bring it up? Does she discover it by accident? How do they make it work for them?
Kinkwise, I'm looking more for the bondage and D/s elements of BDSM rather than the sadism/masochism - so Marie giving orders / tying Erich up / orgasm denial / sense play / light spankings / other things in that line, rather than any kind of serious pain infliction. Also, it's not a BDSM kink per se but leaning into Erich's bisexuality with prostate play would also be very welcome (I know that's not a specifically queer thing but I feel like he would associate it strongly with sex with men.)

Do not want: heavy BDSM and pain play; equipment specifically designed for BDSM; contracts or formal arrangements; Erich being submissive outside the bedroom; public or semi-public sex; non-con; scat; breath-play; blood-play; use of correct anatomical terms; crude euphemisms for ‘vagina’; loss of virginity.

Biggles/EvS - Hand Kink!

[rietta89]

Pairing: Biggles/EvS

Prompt: Hand kink! Biggles completely bluescreens when watching EvS do something with his hands. Erich notices and plays into this (whether in the moment or next time they have sex or both!) Basically just Biggles completely getting off on Erich's long, elegant, dextrous hands.
(First time together, established relationship, or anywhere in between is fine. Any point in the timeline okay.)

Do not want: non-con; scat; breath-play; blood-play; use of correct anatomical terms; loss of virginity.

Any/EvS, Verbal humiliation

[rosanicus]

Pairing: Any/EvS
Prompt: EvS getting off on someone being horrible to him. Base level humiliation kink as part of a scene, or just something which happens in the long and dreadful life of Erich von Stalhein, chronically unhappy spy.
Do not want: Non-con (dub-con related to unnegotiated kink is fine), WW2 setting, physical humiliation involving bodily fluids. I would prefer the verbal humiliation be specifically related to sex but if you want to write Zorotov berating him post-in the Blue while rutting up against the wall of their miserable shared hotel suite then I'm down with that too.

[FILL] Zorotov/EvS, Verbal humiliation

[tweague]

I disclaim absolutely all responsibility for this OOC nightmare of a fic you put in my brain with this prompt. I was very much in two minds about posting it, but kinkmemes are no place for either shame or pride.

* * *

It wasn't the first time this had happened: or the second, or the third. But then, even the first time had already seemed horribly familiar: Zorotov's broad hand around his throat, pinning him to the wall, choking off the words, the breath; feeling the dark stir of heat in his stomach. And God alone knew how Zorotov had detected it, because von Stalhein knew his control over his expression was perfect - some treacherous autonomic response, presumably, the flare of his pupils, a change in his scent. Zorotov was a Moscow hood, through and through, he had the stench of the subway and the interrogation cell on him even when poured into a halfway-respectable suit and tie, all unimaginative violence and hands like hams; but if there was one thing every Moscow Centre-trained hood was a master at, it was scenting blood in the water. They were trained on it from the school room, learning that there was no way to become strong but to tread on the weaker. And Zorotov was stupid, and brutal, and he despised him: but he had an unerring scent for blood.

And so of course Zorotov had seen it: that flare of response, that gap in the armour, that place where the pieces no longer fitted together. The joint where there was enough space to insert the knife.

And von Stalhein had almost laughed, even as Zorotov had leaned in, close by his ear, and begun to call him traitor, half-wit, filthy German whore, so cock-hungry for the man who'd defeated him that he'd let anyone have him -

Because there was still enough of black humour left in him to recognise when the world was throwing him a particularly apt metaphor. Pinned to the wall by this perfect personification of the Soviet regime, getting off on being abused as his air ran out. Of course it felt familiar.

This wasn't that first time: or the second, or the third.

“He was here, I suppose.”

This time: pressed face first to the wall in the shabby anonymous hotel room, one of a dozen shabby interchangeable hotels they'd shared a room in together over the last couple of years, because working for the Soviets was a complex and deliberate process of ritualised humiliation disguised as pragmatism: the two of them in single beds on either side of the room, dressing alongside one another, unable to avoid each other, breathing each other’s smoke, suffering each other’s habits, a constant wear of friction. He would know Zorotov by his smell alone in a pitch dark room: by the vodka, by the cheap Estonian cologne, by the stale itch of terrified sweat.

He could smell it now: thick in his nostrils as Zorotov leaned up against his back and twisted his arm up, wrenching it high enough to make his shoulder scream; and he could think of five ways of getting out of the grip, and perhaps three of them would work, and yet -

And yet.

“I didn’t get sight or smell of him - but you did, didn’t you? It’s not hard to tell. One sniff of him in the breeze and you’re reduced to this. Pathetic. Thinking with your cock again. Or whatever part of you it is that's aching for him.”

Zorotov shoved a knee between his legs, kicked his left foot to push it sideways, making him spread, throwing the weight onto his bad leg so he staggered, for a moment, and the grip on his arm tightened as the other man held him pinned.

“Do you remember that first job we worked, in Brno?” he murmured, close against his ear, voice softer, almost reminiscent. “I could almost see how you'd got your reputation. Could almost believe it was worthwhile employing filth like you. Never seen anyone lose a tail so quickly, or make a drop so smoothly. They told stories about you back then, you know. The legendary Erich von Stalhein, who’d run the British Army ragged back in the first war.” He could feel Zorotov’s breath, hot and sharp against the side of his neck. “No one telling stories about you now, of course. Except maybe cautionary tales. The man so desperate to suck his enemy’s prick that he doesn’t even bother to get up off his knees any more.”

Everything about Zorotov was crude, his thoughts, his voice, his tongue. He always spoke in Russian - God knew what his native language was - and his customary words were beginning to give a certain flavour to von Stalhein’s own Russian vocabulary. So many words he wouldn’t use himself, whore, prick, fuck, words he’d learned from context, that ran through him like electric shocks.

Though it wasn’t the crudity that kept him here, of course.

“What would they think to see you right now, do you think? Those people who used to admire you? So desperate to get yourself off that you’d rub yourself raw against the wall if you couldn’t get anything better. Like an animal. Like a dog trying to mount a stranger’s leg. If I put my hand on you you’d go off straight away, wouldn’t you?”

He was hard: he hadn’t been, when Zorotov had followed him into the room, even though he’d had a shrewd guess about what was coming; he hadn’t been, when Zorotov put him in an armlock and slammed his face into the wall, making his ears ring. It wasn’t the proximity, it wasn’t the pain, it was -

“I wouldn’t soil my hand with you.”

And he shuddered: couldn’t stop it, though he wished he could: and the sense of shame that coiled through him, because he couldn’t stop himself, only served to make the feeling stronger.

“And now we're fucked, because every time you get his scent you're like a bitch on heat, aren't you? Not a thought for the job, not a thought left in your head, just panting to spread your legs for him.”

He shut his eyes; swallowed, heavily. It wasn’t true - he knew that, even if no one else did - he knew why Bigglesworth always beat him - them - and it wasn’t for any of the reasons that Zorotov hissed against his ear after the two of them had failed, yet again. But there was enough of truth in it -

“How many times have you spread for him? How many times has he fucked you, filling up that greedy, slack hole of yours? I always thought that limp of yours came from a bullet, but maybe it’s just that he's got you so well-fucked you can't even stand straight.”

Quite what Zorotov was getting from the arrangement he didn’t know. Perhaps just adding material to his file. Building up the incriminating evidence for when one of them would inevitably have to have the other killed, either with a bullet or the blunt instrument of party justice. Or, just conceivably, with their bare hands.

Zorotov's bare hands right now were holding his wrists, holding them hard enough to leave bruises, the one still twisted up behind his back, the other pressed against the wall, with Zorotov’s grip to keep it away from his cock.

And he could still have got free.

It certainly wasn't about sex for Zorotov, not that von Stalhein had ever been able to detect. Perhaps he had a wife at home, perhaps he spent his evenings in dreary state-sanctioned brothels, but von Stalhein was certain that wherever he got sexual pleasure it wasn’t from watching some despicable invert who still kept the ‘von’ in his name rut up against a wall.

Perhaps this was part of the job for him. Perhaps Moscow had guidelines on the running of agents that covered this. Holding him down, pouring filth in his ear, pinning him there until he came untouched, perhaps that was all part of a handler’s job. Everything for the revolution, Comrade.

But he suspected that the simple answer was the most correct one. Zorotov despised him. And this - arrangement - allowed him the fullest expression of his disgust.

Which was, of course, much the same thing that he got from it himself.

“Or is it - “

Zorotov, almost idly, ground the knee between his spread legs upwards: pressing for a moment against the underside of his cock, pulling the seam of his trousers tight up against his entrance, and quite against his will it pulled a small sound out of him, almost of surrender.

“Or is it that he’s never fucked you? Is that the problem? Is that why you can’t think of anything but his cock whenever he’s nearby?”

He didn’t speak, himself: not for this. He never felt that he had much to add.

“The great Erich von Stalhein, pining over a British policeman like a sixteen year old girl for her first lover - is that it? Just the thought of him gets you dripping hard, gets your mouth watering - yes, you can feel it now, can’t you, you greedy whore, the water in your mouth, you can already feel him there. You're so desperate to suck him off, get him so wet he’ll be able to fuck you on spit alone. You cock-stupid filthy incompetent failure.”

His hips jerked, and Zorotov felt it, and von Stalhein didn’t need to look at him to know he’d be grinning.

And that was why he didn’t break free: didn’t break Zorotov’s nose with one sharp backwards movement of his head, snap the fingers of first one hand then the other (and Zorotov was a big man, and well trained, and he could still have taken him in a fair fight: and yet.)

Because, fundamentally, there was nowhere he would rather be right now.

Dignity in tatters, honour gone, all his skill and subtlety worn away by this brutal new world and its constant, deadening collisions, and he knew that if he did this much longer he'd end up just like them, an animal driven by fear and violence and the scent of blood -

you go on flying with carrion crows and you'll become one -

And that was very much the problem, wasn't it. That Bigglesworth's words always stung, stripes laid across the one last exposed nerve he possessed, but they never quite cut deep enough. They never flayed him open in the way he needed.

“How will you choose, Erich? If he finally agrees to let you service him, one day? Is it your clever mouth that gets his cock, or your aching hole? Only a shame there’s only one of him, so he can only fuck you one way at a time. Maybe he’ll get one of his men to take the other end - you’d like that, wouldn’t you, filled up both ways at once. Or maybe - “

And Zorotov leaned in closer, a parody of intimacy as he whispered against his ear: “Maybe he won’t want to touch you any more than I do.”

And oh, God, it was enough, it was enough without a hand on him, the white hot lash of humiliation as he felt himself spill.

The hands let go, the knee withdrew, instantly, letting him sag, his legs hardly able to take his weight; and the blood began to run back into the places Zorotov had gripped, leaving them sore and tender. Another set of bruises to overlay the last ones.

“Clean yourself up,” said Zorotov, curtly, walking away. “We have a report to make.”

And von Stalhein, aware all the time of the shameful mess, of the stain of red on his cheeks, of the roughness of his breathing, obeyed.

Gimlet/Bertie get kinky

[(Anonymous)]

Very inspired by all the great discord chat I would love to see anything and everything for this pairing! Here is a pick and mix of thoughts:

Gimlet saying all the worst things he can think of that he wants to do and Bertie just being kind and gentle about it because it's Gimlet and he trusts him (though no one else thinks this is a sane choice)

Aaaand Bertie agreeing to do them all :D

Bertie encouraging Gimlet to lose control

There's been chat about flogging in the discord - but do the experiment with anything else? Do one of them get some bad (good) ideas?

They might have managed some vague, clumsy kink negotiation between them, but does Gimlet ever cross the line?

Are they ever curious about switching roles, just to see?

What does after care look like for them?

Re: Gimlet/Bertie get kinky

[tweague]

Just want to write literally all of this?? HAVE SO MUCH TO DO AT THE MOMENT, BUT WANT IT DESPERATELY.

Erich/Marie - just having a really great (vanilla) time in bed

[(Anonymous)]

Riffing off the very wonderful above prompt, I would love to see more Erich/Marie (vanilla edition). Erich knows Marie is way out of his league so he does everything he can to make sure she doesn’t regret choosing him. Happy for the author to take this in whatever direction makes sense to them, but I'd love some exploration of their dynamic in bed, and just some great smut because Erich really is trying very hard :)

Established relationship, getting together, don't mind! Author's choice.

Re: MINI FILL: Erich/Marie - just having a really great (vanilla) time in bed

[uncommonlamp]

“It’s not a holy relic.” Marie giggled, assuring him with something between kindness and embarrassment. Erich was still beneath her, having dropped on a bended knee to kiss her hand in the fashion of a duchess. It shouldn't have surprised her, throughout the run of their courtship he’d almost been unbearably charming to her. There was something unshakable of the old world in him. It reminded her of a rosy half-remembered fantasy, lavish balls and rigid propriety, a world in which the flash of a bare ankle was ecstatic to the male imagination.

Erich could see her ankles now, in fact, he could see quite a bit of her. Her sheer nightgown only barely veiled her curves, and the pigmentation of her nipples teased out beneath the soft white fabric. He'd barely gotten a glimpse of her emerging from her bedroom before he decided, on instinct, to prostrate himself. He flushed, a rare bashfulness coming to his stern face. His eyes were round, soft in the dim light of a nearby lamp. He swallowed, smiling a little awkwardly, and patted her small hand. He wasn't a man of many weaknesses, it told her a great deal that he was, privately, now, with her.

She extended her chin slightly, looking down at him through her lashes. “Let me tell you a secret.” She whispered, a touch of playfulness curling the sides of her mouth. “You don't need to prove yourself if I've already said yes.” She took hold of his jaw.
“You look very beautiful.” Erich said matter-of-factly. It was half reaction, half explanation. He pressed his lips, hesitantly now, to the inside of her wrist. “Ravishing.” He stopped short of placing his hands on her hips, hovering them just close enough to feel the heat of her skin. He seemed, with taut composure, to be waiting for her permission.

Marie shook her head. “Erich, liebling,” she pressed his fingers into her sides, speaking lightly, “would you like to ravish me?” The change in him was almost palpable. His lips parted. “Yes.”
She slipped the wire-thin bands of her chemise down her shoulders and let the garment pool around her waist. She stood up straighter, almost presenting herself to him, expectant. She raised an eyebrow, a subtle challenge she hoped would kindle the spark of Erich's usual ferocity.

With a little jerk, he pulled her hips close to him, making her yelp a little with glee. Erich kissed the drape of fabric above the meeting of her thighs. She carded a hand through his hair and felt his shoulders relax, easing as his arms hugged around her legs. He gazed up at her, adoringly, his cheek up against her clothed sex.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, almost involuntarily. She couldn't fully stop herself from grinning.

Gimlet/Cub - terrible power dynamics

[(Anonymous)]

Nothing specific to prompt with this other than 'oh no, Cub, don't!!!'

Very inspired by:

- the line in King of the Commandos, when Gimlet says to Cub "You'll come under me for discipline"
- that they get far too many canon moments, despite being a ship of horrors
- Cub's terrible crush
- a love of horrible, messy power dynamics and of how sometimes what you want is demonstrably Not Good For You and yet

Make of that what you will!

I do love darkfic, people playing terrible games with each other, wallowing and rolling around in 'that's really messed up', and this really would be a huge disaster of a pairing. Go as dark as you like!

A real (awful) galaxy brain moment could be Cub getting wind of what Bertie and Gimlet get up to and being interested in offering Gimlet an alternative outlet... or joining in?

EvS/Algy - dubcon, fuck or die

[(Anonymous)]

For reasons of your choosing, they have to fuck, or one or both of them will die.

That's it. That's the prompt.

All versions equally terrible and appealing, so go for broke. Some general ideas and questions:

How do they find out that the other one needs this... specific kind of help. Are they forced to ask? Is it exposed? Does one have to offer help to the other?

Have they secretly wanted to do this for a while?

Or have they been hooking up, and this is why one approaches the other for help?

Does it make their hook up dynamic way more complicated?

Do they absolutely hate each other's guts and have to hold their nose the entire time (despite, you know, having a really great time)?

Does this change their opinion of each other? Does it ~awaken something~ in them?

Would either of them use it as an opportunity to fuck with the other? Hurt them? Take out general angry or jealous feelings?

Do the rest of the gang find out?

Biggles/Any - dubcon, sex pollen

[(Anonymous)]

Thinking about various fandom headcanons about Biggles being greyace/demi, I was wondering if there's an ethical way you can sex pollen him, given that experience might be quite complicated or unsettling? There are various scenarios I've been thinking about and would happily offer up to the hive mind.

Would it be okay within an existing relationship? How would they handle it? Example scenario, what if the gang is on some mission, and Biggles doesn't realise he's been sex pollened until his partner realises there's something off about him, puts two and two together and hastily finds a reason to sneak him off in private to deal with it.

What if he's no in an existing relationship? How could that be managed without causing harm? Is there no way it doesn't mess things up a bit?

Or, what if either his partner in his existing relationship, or someone he cares about, is the one who gets sex pollened first, and his solution is of course to simply sex pollen himself to level the playing field and now they can go at it without anyone having to feel weird about it.

Any/Any - genderswap

[(Anonymous)]

Always a girl, turned into a girl, everyone, just one of them, some sort of mix - I am open to anything, I just very much enjoy this fandom classic trope. Particularly as there are various characters in this fandom who really do give off a vibe of being a bit, gender: if I must.

I wasn't thinking of this from a trans character perspective, but if that's what you fancy writing, please consider this also a prompt for that! Mess with gender in whatever way you like!

Biggles/Algy - post-capture sex

[(Anonymous)]

Throughout canon, Algy is endlessly captured, in danger, presumed dead. Biggles does not cope well!

From thinking he's got him killed in Flies East, through being taken captive in &co and Secret Agent, all the way through to Terai where the end up flying off into the sunset together, there are so many moments.

It got me thinking, how does Biggles handle this? Especially earlier on when maybe it feels a bit less guaranteed that he’ll be able to get Algy back - does he need to take Algy to be to confirm he’s real, he’s alive, and he’s safely home? Does he need to express his feelings of distress and panic via being a bit pushy in bed? A sort of ‘don’t you dare do that again’ sort of energy? A little light punishment? A possessive reclaiming? All of the above, or none?

Biggles/Algy - fingering, keeping Algy from boredom

[(Anonymous)]

Major James Bigglesworth, D.S.O., more often known as Biggles, turned down the page of the book he was reading and pulled his chair a little nearer the fire. ‘Algy,’ he announced quietly, ‘you’re smoking too much.’

Captain the Honourable Algernon Lacey deliberately blew a neat smoke-ring into the air before he replied. ‘You think so?’ he murmured, pushing his finger through the ring.

‘I’m sure of it.’

‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘The question is, rather, what are you?’

‘Nothing—that is, unless you can think of something else for me to do besides twiddle my thumbs in front of the fire.’

- Biggles Goes to War

Imo this is one of the single most pornographic moments in canon. The flirting, the tension, the subtext, pushing his finger through the ring, thanks WEJ. Surely we need a follow up? What does Biggles think of for Algy to do instead of twiddle his thumbs? Does the smoke ring incident give them both ideas? Does Algy need a little punishment for his cheek? Just a great excuse for a lot of filth thanks!

[FILL] Biggles/Algy - fingering, keeping Algy from boredom 1/2

[tweague]

Well, this has absolutely no redeeming features!! Bring it, 5k of just entirely unnecessary filth, set post-'Goes to War'.

* * *

And, almost before they knew it, they were backing in London, with a Maltovian decoration in each of their suitcases and a sheaf of newspaper cuttings from foreign papers in Ginger’s clippings album: stepping out onto the platform at Victoria, the sight of the English signs and posters and shop names oddly foreign and unfamiliar after more than four months abroad; back in the London traffic, the London smog, the London noise and bustle and the shouts of the paperboys and bootblacks. Back to Mount Street: to a flat stale with unexpectedly long absence, to cold hearths and a coffee cup on the table with half an inch of concealed sludge in the bottom.

Still, they were all used to abrupt changes of quarters: Algy down to the shops for supplies, Biggles coaxing the fire back to life, Ginger trotting about setting the place to rights; and soon there was tea (English tea, red brown and strong, something they’d been missing for months), and seed cake, and biscuits, and warmth in the air again.

And they chatted, a little: but there’d been little to do but chat and bicker and talk over the extraordinary business they’d fallen into for the last two days of cramped railway carriages and cramped boat cabins, so there wasn’t a great deal left to chat about; and quite soon Biggles picked up the book that was still on the floor beside his chair, still with the corner of the page turned down; and Ginger picked up the newspaper; and Algy sat and looked at Biggles for a full minute, and rolled his eyes, and reached for a magazine.

Which he read for perhaps ten minutes, before stalking off to find a novel; which he read for fifteen minutes, somehow only managing to turn the page three times, and then at entirely arbitrary intervals, before tossing it in the direction of the table, and missing. Then he went for cigarettes and ashtray, and sat down sideways in the armchair with his legs over one arm and his head resting on the other, and smoked, thoughtfully.

After ten minutes, Biggles sighed. “Anything good on at the Plaza?” he asked, levelly.

“Heaps of things,” said Ginger. “Looks like I missed ‘Secret Agent’’ completely, more’s the pity. There’s this one with Warren William - I think it’s a version of ‘The Maltese Falcon’ - “

“Why not take five bob and make an afternoon of it?” asked Biggles, not looking up from his book. “I’m planning to stagnate for the rest of the day, but by the look of it Algy might fancy an outing.”

Ginger pulled a face. “Last time I took him to the pictures he spent the whole time loudly explaining why the dogfights were unrealistic. Which I knew, incidentally.”

“Thanks, I’d just as soon gnaw my own foot off,” said Algy, genially. “Think I’ll stay here and make a nuisance of myself for a bit.”

“I’d flee while there’s still time if I were you, laddie,” Biggles muttered. “Save yourself.”

Ginger grinned. “I can drag him out by his ear if you’d like some peace and quiet.”

“Noble youth,” Biggles intoned, in a sepulchral voice. “It’s all right. I haven’t biffed him round the head with a fire-iron in the last ten years, I very much doubt I’ll start now. Enjoy your holiday.”

Ten more minutes saw Ginger coated and hatted and out of the flat, on his way to the big cinemas of Leicester Square; and Biggles crossed his legs, and frowned at his page, and said, quietly, “Now I don’t believe that even you can be bored yet. We’ve only been at home for about an hour.”

“I have been bored,” Algy pronounced, “for the last three bloody months.”

“What - averting a war and setting up an airforce from scratch not interesting enough for you?”

“Frankly, no,” said Algy, tipping his head back to observing the ceiling. “The first month or so had its moments, I’ll admit, but royal weddings and baby-stepping some wide-eyed Maltovian kids with only about ten words of English through their first ten hours in a plane isn’t my idea of entertainment.”

“How’s your Maltovian then?”

“Better than it was four months ago, I’ll tell you that for free.”

“You,” Biggles went on, in the same distracted voice, “need to get better at entertaining yourself.”

“I’ve been entertaining myself for the last three months!” Algy burst out.

Biggles cast him the briefest glance over the top of his book. “What, you mean you got bored to tears of being wined and dined like a king, having your every wish jumped to, being waited on hand and foot - “

“- sleeping in different rooms - “

Biggles’ mouth quirked in a quick, half smothered smile. “You could always have come to visit, you know.”

Algy snorted. “What, and sneak down fortyt foot of drafty corridor and run the gauntlet of chambermaids every time? Felt worryingly like that Christmas we went to Merioneth, if you substitute my relations for the chambermaids.”

And he blew another perfect smoke ring at the ceiling; watched, idly, as it rose and dispersed.

“Your idea of subtlety,” said Biggles, eyes going back to his book, “has the force of a brick to the forehead.”

“I wasn’t aiming for subtlety,” Algy grumbled. “Subtlety, frankly, is wasted on you. I’ve managed four months of subtlety, and frankly I could do with a little bluntness.”

Algy heard - or thought he heard - a faint indrawing of breath from Biggles; and he grinned to himself, privately, and stretched a little, consciously arching his back a touch, to tap the ash off his cigarette on the ashtray on the floor beside him.

“I’m busy.”

“You’re not.”

“This is a very interesting book.”

“Yes, but is it that interesting?” Another smoke-ring, puffed out from rounded lips; and he poked his finger, thoughtfully, through the middle of it.

“I do wish you wouldn’t do that when Ginger’s sitting right next to you. You’ll give the poor kid a complex.”

“Look, you can’t have it both ways. Either he’s still pure as the proverbial snow - in which case what he don’t notice won’t hurt him - or he’s already picked up the same revolting cast of mind that you and I did from the average mess, and he’ll think it’s as funny as I do. Either way, I don’t think it’ll do him a great deal of harm.”

Biggles got up, and Algy quickly reached across to stub out his cigarette; but instead of coming over, Biggles disappeared into their bedroom; and when he returned, he dropped the small pot of salve into Algy’s lap. Algy raised an eyebrow at him.

“Go on then,” said Biggles, settling in his chair again, and finding his place in his book. “Entertain yourself.”

Algy regarded him for a moment. “As the great Doctor Watson once said, under presumably similar circumstances - there is something positively inhuman in you sometimes.”

“I told you, I’m busy.” Biggles turned a page, ostentatiously. “Try not to distract me.”

Algy found the grin spreading across his face. He knew a challenge when he heard one.

He didn’t make a big production out of stripping; but he did make a point of dropping each item of clothing as he removed it into an ostentatiously untidy heap on the floor. Jacket, pullover, shirt, undershirt, the lingering chill in the air making his skin roughen with goosebumps for a moment, making his nipples harden. He perched for a moment against the arm of the chair, where Biggles would be able to see him in his peripheral vision; idly let his hand drift upwards, brushing against the line of hair on his stomach; pinched the sensitive nub of flesh.

“Any suggestions? Any requests?” he murmured, enjoying the warmth and the tug of his fingers against the cool of his skin, enjoying the spark of pleasure he got from feeling Biggles’ eyes so conspicuously elsewhere.

“You could shut the blinds, for a start,” said Biggles. “Though you’ll already be giving passers-by an eyeful.”

“Thanks, I think I won’t,” Algy replied, scratching his short nail over the skin, letting the catch it put in his breath show in his voice, growing a little breathy, a little distracted. “Wouldn’t want make it too dark to see in here, after all. You wouldn’t be able to read.”

“Very thoughtful.”

He reached down with his other hand; stroked himself through the stuff of his trousers, feeling himself begin to harden. “Want me to put something down? I wouldn’t want to make a mess.”

“Do you think you might?”

“There’s a decent chance,” Algy mused, unbuttoning his flies one-handed and slipping his hand inside, touching himself through the silk of his underwear. “It’s been a slow few months. I could - I could make a lot of mess, now I’ve got the time to really let myself go.” He moved his hand from one nipple to the other, pinching hard, straight away, making himself gasp as he palmed his cock. “Especially since I might need to use a lot of stuff. I haven’t - haven’t had anything in me bigger than my own fingers in weeks. I’m sure I’m out of practice.”

“You didn’t keep yourself ready?” said Biggles, with elaborate unconcern; but Algy could see the faint hint of flush, high on his cheeks.

“Didn’t seem much point,” he said, letting his voice grow rough. “Except my own satisfaction, of course. And it’s never - never quite as satisfying as when you’re there - “

“You can leave me out of this,” said Biggles, quickly.

Algy rolled his eyes. “Thanks, I rather had to. All those long evenings in my comfortable, cosy quarters - I’d start off reading a book, going over reports, something to take my mind off it, but all I could think of was - was you explaining the finer points of two-seater strafing to a room full of starry-eyed nineteen year olds, all of them a little bit in love with you, and how much I’d wanted to push you up against the wall right then and suck you off, right there in front of them, show them who you really belonged to - and I’d have to touch myself, just like this, had to suck my own fingers and think of you - “

“Do it,” said Biggles, his eyes flicking upwards, finding his. “Show me what you did.”

And Algy did: pulled the hand unwillingly from his hot, slightly sore nipple, sore from where he’d pinched and twisted it, and instead pushed two fingers into his mouth; remembered that day, a sticky, sultry continental summer day, when he’d lain on the bed in his room, sheened with sweat, the window cracked open, a ghost of a breeze on his skin, and he’d been so desperate for Biggles, for the taste of him, the feel of him, that he’d -

Two fingers in his mouth, pumping them slowly in; the wet, obscene noise as he sucked them, tongue curling round them, his mouth watering with want, Christ, getting himself drenched with spit; and it didn’t have that weight, that heaviness that he wanted, but with his cock in his hand it was almost enough to pretend, and now with Biggles there, with his eyes on him -

The moan was a little conscious, but that didn’t make it less heart-felt.

“Then what.”

He pulled the fingers from his lips; felt the cold, wet thread of spit on his chin; grinned. “How’s the book?”

“Riveting. Then what?”

“Well. I had a few less clothes on than this, for a start.”

“Do it then.”

And he did: toeing off his shoes, quickly shucking off trousers and underwear, peeling off his socks, awkward and ungainly and terribly aware of the bob of his cock, hard and flushed; of Biggles’ eyes on him, the book still held up, offering a figleaf of plausibility to the game, but his eyes were focussed on him now, bright and hot and interested, him to the exclusion of all else, and he hadn’t turned a page in minutes.

Wholly naked now, while Biggles was wholly clothed: and he sat down in the armchair; fished the pot of salve from where he had dropped it on the floor; leaned back; hooked his legs, one over each arm of the chair.

He heard Biggles’ breath catch.

“And then what?” he asked, a little hoarsely.

Biggles/Algy - oral

[(Anonymous)]

Algy gives the impression of being something of the squadron bicycle, and I imagine he's quite happy and enthusiastic getting on his knees for someone. However, Biggles doesn't really give that impression at all - not that he's entirely disinterested in sex but it's a surprise when he suggests something or wants something or takes the initiative.

So when he does get on his knees for Algy it might blow his mind that Biggles would do that for him. That he's into him that much. That he would do something so sort of... base and physical and messy? Not passing any judgement here on the act itself or either of them - more just that sex is a very physical, embodied, primal sort of thing, the kind of raw, basic wanting that Biggles doesn't otherwise seem so affected by in quite the same way? But maybe he's just having a great time and really gets into it!!

Set in whatever era you'd like - the use of 'squadron bicycle' not suggesting anything in particular.

Biggles/EvS, phone sex

[philomytha]

So I was rereading this lovely fic by Sholio and wondering what other kinds of conversations they might have over the phone.