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cheriladycl01 · 22 days ago

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Kinktober 24/10/2024 Lando Norris - Humping/ ThighJob

Plot: You and Lando are great multitaskers

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, thighjob, humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

You and Lando were very busy people. Him going round the world for the majority of the year driving fast cars and you acting in your tv shows and movies as an up and coming actress.

That’s actually how you met Lando. A very long winded funny way but hey always say people are out in the same place at the same time for a reason and that is something you both loved by.

You’d taken on a role in the Gran Turismo Movie, as the girlfriend to Jann and it was an incredible experience working with all these amazing actors and being involved in cars.

Here you met Geri, who was a co-star of yours and that ended up meaning you met Christian Horner at the movie premiere. You’d gotten talking to him about all that you’d learnt about cars and how it fascinated you which led him to inviting you with RedBull to the paddock which is where you’d met and the rest was history.

Your relationship where you were both travelling so much was a little strained. You tried to go to as many races as possible which normally was at least half of the calendar.

So when you guys were together you were both incredibly clingy. Always around one another always trying to get some kind of physical contact.

That was where you guys struggled in intimacy too, a lot of your time was spent on dates and making sure to spend as much time together as possible that you were often very exhausted or still too busy to do anything or a sexual nature.

So a lot of the time you’d do things that worked around both your tight schedules.

Like right now, he was working on his sim racing and you were incredibly horny and needy for him. So you plopped yourself over him, straddling his thigh covered in his Quadrant tracksuit bottoms. You were bare, you’d made sure to come in like that. He was just doing laps for the upcoming race in Monza, so he didn’t have any issues you joining him.

You stayed there, kissing along his neck bringing moans out of him. His arms circled around you to grab the wheel restarting the sim. You start to move your hips up and down, and you can already feel a wet spot growing in his tracksuit bottoms. Your hips moved in tandem up and down little breathy gasps and moans coming from you mouth as you feel the pressure scrape along your sensitive clit.

“Fuck Lan” you moan into him and your hips speed up a bit. His leg also moves every now and then when he breaks going round a corner and jiggles when the other accelerates.

“Your such a good girl. Little multitasker” he smiles, as he finishes another really good lap time. He knew the circuit well enough that he could probably do it blindfolded so even having his insanely hot girlfriend above him couldn’t make him forget the racing line.

“I’m gonna, fuck” you moan as you speed up. His hands come down you your hips helping you move back and forth, the scrape against him delicious and insatiable.

“That’s it, cum for me gorgeous. Getting yourself of on my thigh like that. Such a good girl” he complements.

But it wasn’t just you who found pleasure in humping, especially against his thigh. There was many times where he’d be eating you out, as it was one of his favourite things to do to you, and he’d get so into it he’d start thrusting his hips into the bed, getting the needed pressure on his cock.

Usually it was you coming all over his face that had him creaming his pants, and looking at the dark spot against his boxers or joggers however far he’d gotten stripping his own clothes off.

The most recent time was when you were laying on the sofa, your script for you upcoming film where you’d gotten the lead role in front of you.

You were playing Poppy in You and Me on Vacation with Tom Blyth as Alex and you were so excited as there were so many different filming locations you could go to and strangely the schedule fit in really well with Lando’s races. You’d be filming a lot of the Florida scenes just after Miami so you could watch that race and would have plenty of time to go to the next one.

He is in the mood and you were actually pretty sore from the night before where he’d absolutely been a feral wild dog.

You were just rereading the scenes making sure you had Poppy’s vibe down, as you’d read the book and spoken to the author herself. When Lando came up behind you.

He lifted your thighs and hips up so you were sort of in doggy styled which made you groan ready to protest that you weren’t ready for sex as you were still exhausted after last night.

“I know baby, is it okay if I just use those pretty thighs of yours. I just need you so bad but I know we went hard last night!” He whines in a pleading way that had your head turning round to try and look at him over your shoulder.

“And that didn’t take the beast enough?” You ask wide eyes and he shakes his head with a guilty look.

“Argh fine go ahead just don’t distract me from the script. I need to read my lines out loud.

“Why don’t you move into one of those sex scenes huh?” He asks lightly biting the top bit of your ear making you giggle.

“Alright hmmmm I can’t remember where they have sex” you say flicking through the script until you find it.

“Will you actually have to have sex with this guy?” Lando asks looking at you.

“No you weirdo it’s all acting and we have stuff like in between us” you tell him with a laugh as you feel him slip his cock between your thighs. You squeeze them together and hear him moan above you as you start talking him through the sex scene you were supposed to perform with Tom.

His thrusts speed up as you talk him through the actions and what is being said until he pulls back his cum spurting into the back of your thighs as he sighs with a little whine.

“Thanks baby, you’re the best” he smiles, grabbing a tissue from the table to help clean you up. You highlight stuff in the scrip that you consider valuable information before you feel Lando’s weight on top of you.

“I love you so much. Thank you for always making time for me” you say genuinely closing the script and holding his hand that is on your forearm.

Taglist:

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thesummerpetrichor · 5 months ago

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𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾:

𝒪𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Its been five months since you started sleeping together, and you're having second thoughts about your "relationship" with Javier. But what does it matter to him? he hasn't even kissed you yet. 🍒 Continuation of “Off to the Races” and “Your Face is Shameless” but can be read alone.

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, thicc age gap [Javi is in his 40s reader is in her early 20s], mentions of anxiety, major angst, situationship, guilt, unrequited love, self loathing, kissing [they did it!], Javier is emotionally unavailable, petnames, major dom/sub dynamic [dd/lg ish vibes], mean!Javi then soft!dom!Javi, degradation, dumbification, minor objectification, major size kink [Javi is bigger than and can lift reader], praise kink [finally some good girl action], daddy kink, choking, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral [f receiving], unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if i missed anything 🫶

Word count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello!! I'm back!! thought it would be fitting to revisit these two post hiatus. Sorry in advance for the emotional torture that is about to ensue, but I couldn't help myself. Big thank you to @pixelsandothernonsense for being a big supporter of these two and fuelling their return on the blog time and time again. Lotsa plot, lotsa porn– as always. Hope you enjoy, nasties. Mwah

🍒Off to the races 🍒Your face is shameless 🍒Masterlist

You wanted it to be easy but it’s difficult. You wanted it to be over, but it was not.

While Colombia seemed to be all fun and games at first sight, the longer you remained stuck in the American embassy’s city centre building the more you longed for home.

Your research was hitting a roadblock, and things were hard. Funding was running out, and your professors were running away. Better jobs, better prospects. But your degree was the least cause for your troubles.

You were smart. You were controlled. You didn’t know what you were thinking when you got yourself involved with Javier Peña. It seemed fun at the moment- fooling around, messing with a man double your age and four times more qualified. Trying to wrangle his true intentions out from under his furrowed brow and frown.

Looking back you felt stupid. Embarrassed. A little ashamed of what you had become. How you let him treat you.

He used you like a walking sex doll. Didn’t give you one look afterwards. Maybe a pat on the back but somehow that was more insulting. He had never kissed you. And there you were, fixing your makeup in the office bathroom after an evening under his desk had ruined it.

It had been five months since the first time he'd bent you over his desk but you were only half way through your trip. Five more months seemed too long to bear. It made you sick.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, and sleepy and your clothes weren’t crisp as usual. You felt a little bit like the tissue you’d just dabbed against your cheek. A little flimsy and a little dirty. A little used, perhaps.

It felt a little worse knowing it was all your doing. You weren’t expecting a man like Javier to change. Objectively, it wasn’t possible. But you still asked for more. For him to use and then forget about you. You wanted to leave. You wished he’d never seen this side of you. Frankly you wished you hadn’t either.

Because you were smart and funny and interesting and could talk about all sorts of things. You liked music and books and movies and trying new food. But he’d never seen you that way. He never would.

You hadn’t spoken to him once. Not about anything that wasn’t strictly utilitarian. Especially not after he started fucking you. It was far too awkward and far too intimate.

For him.

Your feelings flip flopped every day, from the casualty of the affair seeming rather appealing, to it making your chest ache. And yet you couldn’t seem to help yourself, unable to understand not only what this thing you had going on with Agent Peña was, but why you couldn't seem to stop.

Five months camping out in the office and you hadn’t missed a single day. No matter how bad the hurt in your chest you rolled out of bed and reminded yourself of why you were where you were. It worked. It hurt, but it worked.

But after five months it seemed like getting out of bed was suddenly impossible one morning and you thought it best to stay home. You got a few calls. One from Fiestl and Van Ness. Connie Murphy sent Steve over with soup when she heard you weren’t feeling well.

No news from Javi Peña.

You slept most of the day. With your computer shut and materials put away. You didn’t want to think about it. You fixed yourself dinner- instant noodles, and headed to bed once again.

You thought it was temporary but the excruciating pain only lingered and carried you on to another day confined to the four walls of your bedroom.

It was a bad idea- ignoring your work for as long as you did. You should have known that you wouldn’t be able to put it on the back burner- considering the neurosis surrounding your work, the fact you took a two day break was impressive. It wasn’t long before your anxiety was eating away at you, an impending deadline hanging over your head and reminding you the world didn't care about your little pity party.

Stupid as it was, you found yourself crossing the street at the witching hour of 23:00- clad in the soft cotton dress you forced yourself into earlier that evening. The friday night had persuaded everyone out of the office, and you weren’t surprised when you found the top floor of the embassy building cold and empty.

You were glad, and perhaps it was the only way you could stomach being there– alone.

Your desk was exactly how you’d left it a couple of days ago- your books piled in one corner, papers thrown all over the place. It was disorganised and untidy– very unlike you. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you began to sort things out, a feeling of complete exhaustion and defeat threatening to force you into your office chair. You glanced over at Javier’s office, signs he was out for the week prompting the slight relaxation of your shoulders.

When you finally sat down to get to work, your eyes couldn't help but flutter shut every few moments, the screen of your computer zoning in and out of your vision every now and then. The words seemed to escape you, four lines on your document all you could manage before you were pressing your forehead against the wood of your desk.

After spending the past two days sleeping somehow all you wanted to do was climb right back into bed.

Music, surely that would help! Or at least you thought, to no avail, a whole album played once, yet you could only manage another paragraph. Turns out burnout was real.. and it had decided now was the best time to get you. But you weren’t ready to pack up and banish yourself to your studio apartment just yet. So you upped the volume, and sat up just a little bit straighter in your chair, and got back to work.

Something about the loneliness of working in that drab, white, characterless office was especially miserable. So miserable in fact it was almost comforting, it was so miserable it was funny. It wasn't long before you were sitting completely straight in that sad, uncomfortable office chair, laughing at yourself with a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. You were stupid, and acted silly, and had all these big feelings, but what did it matter? It was diabolical; the capacity Javier had for ruining your life, but soon enough you’d be out of here and one day you’d probably be laughing at the whole ordeal.

It was exhausting, but what could you do? The words came just a little bit easier from that point, and you felt yourself accept defeat and immersed yourself in your paper. At the end of the day you couldn’t control how he felt about you- you just had to take it or leave it. Not everything is that deep, you rolled your eyes at yourself, but you knew truthfully the lack of his care and affection was more than a little sting. You decided you were better off defining the “relationship” for yourself, and maybe showing a little bit more restraint. Who said everything had to be that serious, maybe you should've taken a page out of Javier’s book!

Yes that was it, not everything was that serious, was it?

You really wished you’d had the foresight to gauge the stupidity of trying to drown out your surroundings in a public space in the middle of the night. Sure, no external threat could get you inside the excessively secure embassy building, but what did that mean when the real threat to your sanity was the DEA attache.

Truth be told, you'd have jumped in fear if anyone had tapped their fingers on your computer screen, but when Javier rounded your desk with a raised brow and waved his hand in front of your computer, you were particularly startled.

“The hell are you doing here?”

Any other time you’d probably met him with a snappy reply, something to get him going, maybe rile him up enough till he was pressing your face against your papers and fucking you from the back. You wished you could have given him that response that day, but you were so completely out of yourself, you settled for a shrug and a normal “trying to finish this section”.

“That why you disappeared these past two days?”

“I wish.. probably would have been done by now.” His brows kit, somewhat confused and just noticing your tired, puffy eyes now that he was closer.

“When’s it due.” he leaned to sit on your table , and traced your features with his fingers. You felt your eyes flutter shut as the tip of his index ran along the bridge of your nose, and feared your new policy was at risk of being thrown right out of the window at his attention. Sighing, you leaned into his touch. Unhappy, but unable to resist it. “Next week.”

He pitched your damp cheeks between his fingers, gently shaking your head from side to side. “You've got time.”

You hummed and took a moment to look up at him- yellow table lamp doing his golden features all sorts of favours, ones that he didn't even need to begin with if you were being honest.The weight of his hand, the roughness of his skin against yours had a soft sigh escaping your lips.

Javier's hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, to the back of your neck, and he gently guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you helped yourself up long enough to watch him rise beside you, stepping closer. He stepped around you, positioning himself between yourself and the chair, his breath warm against your ear.

"Sit," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. His hand moved to the back of your neck again, this time pulling you down onto his lap. The gesture was possessive, not tender.

You obeyed, lowering yourself onto him, your legs on either side of his waist, dangling off the seat. Javier's hands rested on your waist momentarily, heavy and harsh, before drifting lower to your hips, pulling you further into his lap till you could feel his bulge swell against you. You felt yourself get wet, he lifted your hips and then pulled you back down against him, allowing you the slight relief of the friction as you felt yourself embarrassingly throb against him.

The proximity was suffocating, his scent—cigarettes, and aftershave. He leaned closer, and for a moment, in your delusion, you thought he might kiss you. Instead his fingers squeezed around your throat, breath fanning your lips. “You want to be daddy’s good girl, dontch’ya?” his voice was low, and biting, and you knew you were in for it, for avoiding him, when he tightened his grip at your lack of answer.

Slick pooled in your panties, and he let you press your hot core against him, undoubtedly able to feel how easily he could unravel you. You shifted your gaze up at the ceiling to avoid his own.

You squeaked out a feeble “yes”, already delirious. “Then why the fuck, did you think you could disappear without telling me?” He reached for the string that held together the top of your dress, rather aggressively tugging it undone, watching as it unravelled and revealed the soft cotton of your lingerie. “Busy” you whined when traced your skin with his pointer finger, palm coming to squeeze at your breast and then pull your bra aside.

“Not looking too busy now, are ya?” your nipple pebbled under his palm, his hot breath fanning against your skin as he trailed open mouth kisses along your neck. You whimpered, reaching to tangle your fingers in Javier’s hair. Surprisingly, he let you tug on his locks, allowing you to ground yourself as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your bud. He came up to nip at your jaw and you whimpered a soft “M’ sorry”.

“What was that?” Javier rolled his eyes and growled in your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth, and pinching the flesh of your thighs, prompting you to speak up. And speak up you did, heat seeping into your panties at his tone and words. He didn’t respond to you, just hummed his assent and pulled you harder against him.

His hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and his big arms crossed under you to support your weight. Continuing to kiss along your neck he plopped you on the table, but you couldn’t lie, you much preferred being carried so gently in his hold. Thank god the desk had been cleared– giving him enough room to push you back against it. You didn't really want to unwrap your legs from around him, but he grunted disapprovingly before prying your legs from his waist. Your heart jumped as he took a seat on your dingy rolly chair, his large palms lifting your legs by your calves till your feet were planted on his thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows.

Javier's eyes caught sight of your untied shoelace, a small hazard in the midst of your hurried night. As usual, without a word, he leaned down, fingers deftly working to tie the lace in a swift, fluid motion, securing the bow with a final, firm tug, patting the top of your shoe before returning to the task at hand.

His eyes were hungry like they always were, deep brown, alluring, the only readable emotion in them- lust. Those large palms parted your knees, making space for you between them. A tingle ran up your spine when he brushed the tips of his fingers against the inside of your thigh, dragging them along your skin till he was toying with the hem of your panties. He shifted forward in the chair, meeting your eyes as he planted a kiss on your calf, and then hoisted your legs up on his shoulders.

Javier took a moment to admire you, letting his rough hands roam under your skirt. You always wondered what those hands were doing; how they wrapped around his gun when he ran out of the office with it, how small they made the cigarette he was smoking look. You watched him grab, and hold, and type from across your desk when he hadn’t fucked you in a day or two, imagined those hands grabbing at your flesh and wrapping around your throat. You imagined him pumping his fingers in and out your pussy with your own hands between your legs in the middle of the night- unable to go mere days without him fucking you, salivating at the thought of those hands wrapped around his thick cock, wondering if he too couldn’t go without your touch.

Lost in your thoughts you shuddered when you felt him drag his tongue up the cut of your slit, the already moist fabric of your panties sticking to your skin as he nudged your clit with his nose. Your head fell back involuntarily, and you felt your arms ache as you continued to struggle to hold yourself up on your elbows. Seemingly, he had decided that day he wasn’t going to make you work for it- you looked like you were working far too much already.

“Look at me.” Javier sharply instructed from between your legs. Nipping the inside of your right thigh till you yelped in his hold. You weren't going to last very long at the sight of him, eyes glancing up at you as his mouth ghosted over your soaked pussy. You watched intently as his fingers pulled your panties aside, softly grazing your swollen flesh in a way that had you pulling your lip between your teeth to contain the pornographic moan that threatened to spill from your mouth and alert the security guard across the hall.

Your leg twitched on his shoulder as he licked a long, firm stripe up your aching pussy. Both your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue softly explored your folds. The sight of Javier between your legs was enough to send you over the edge, one that would live in your head for a very long time.

You struggled to hold his eyes with your own when he licked at your entrance, increasing his pace ever so slightly before he was softly sucking your clit into his mouth. Letting yourself lean back against the table you reached to continue to tangle your fingers in his hair, hoping he'd let you have his fluffy locks in your hold. Turns out you were lucky the first time, because as was more common, Javier reminded you of his “no grabbing at daddy” attitude by grasping your hand in his.

“No grabbin at daddy, babygirl” he murmured against your wetness and you shivered. His fingers engulfed yours, stroking your skin and moving your hands to your chest. His large palm covered yours and squeezed your fingers around your breasts. You moaned, and arched your back against the table up into both your palms as his tongue achingly slipped inside you.

The feel of his mouth against you was more than perfect, the way he expertly ate you out till you were wiggling your hips against his face, his nose nudging your clit as he fucked you with his tongue. Slow and soft then faster and rough, just how he knew you liked it.

He seemed to be enjoying the feeling of you just as much, groaning against your wet cunt everytime you twitched and shuddered against him, the taste of you prompting him only to bury himself deeper between your thighs, pull and grab at your hips, hold you close against him as your chest rose and fell.

Javier lashed his tongue at your entrance, then plunged it into your slick cunt. You felt your core tighten, and you knew you couldn’t hold on much longer. “Please…” barely able to complete your sentence you squealed when he circled your clit with his tongue. You could feel him grin against the inside of your thigh, and you reached for his hands on your hips to tug at his fingers feebly.

Making out the sound of his chuckle over your heavy breathing you whined, and then proceeded to melt in his hold when he responded with a rather gentle, yet delayed and somewhat playfully annoyed “You can come for daddy, babygirl.”

The grip of your fingers on his tightened, and you sighed, finally letting go as Javier worked between your legs. Your cunt clamped down on his tongue as he finished you off, licking you through your orgasm and holding your hips down as you shook and squirmed above him.

He kissed along your seam gently as you caught your breath, your breath hitching when he pushed two fingers in your still sensitive cunt to gently stroke your walls. He stifled a groan. You looked down between your legs as he withdrew those fingers and began to stand up. “She so fuckin wet for me, hmm?” He rubbed slow, soft circles on your clit, not caring to watch you intently for any giveaway that would instruct him on the perfect rhythm. He already knew what you liked- he didn’t need to bother. “Slutty little pussy achin’ to be fucked… after all these days, aint she?”

He took a second to get a good look at you as he moved closer between your legs, and you propped yourself back up on your elbows and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him in.

“My good little slut”

Bringing his fingers to your lips he urged them open, pushing in and watching you suck gently on his digits. You shivered at the taste of your own arousal. As always you felt a little fuzzy when he did something like that– letting your eyes droop until he nudged you to release them with a pop. He ran those fingers across your lips, watching you struggle to keep your eyes on him as his hand drifted downwards to wrap swiftly around your neck. “That's better isn't it?” he pressed his clothed cock against your bare, swollen pussy, your panties surely on the verge of ripping the way they’d been pulled aside. Javier seemed to be thinking along the same lines as you, because in a moment he reached for them and urgently dragged them down your hips, unwrapping himself from your hold and holding your ankles in one hand as the other slid your panties all the way off of you.

When you whined at the loss of his body against yours he tutted, raising his eyebrows at you in warning.

He then grabbed your thigh with his hand once again, squeezing it and holding it in place against his waist. You heard the jingle of his belt as he undid it. A rough edge on said belt scraped against your skin, but it was difficult to pay attention to it when you felt him reach between your bodies to tease your dripping slit with his length.

It was sad to admit, but nothing took the weight of your shoulders much like the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your wet pussy, head bumping your clit till you were shivering and then notching at your entrance. You heard him mutter a strained curse under his breath at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in. Javier didn't waste much time, as much as he seemed to enjoy the sight of you deliriously wiggling your hips under him.

He leaned down and traced the curve of your jaw with the bridge of his nose, breathing in your scent as he pushed in– slowly and gently. Much slower and gentler than he had ever been before. Your legs tightened around him, hips lifting pathetically as you felt him stretch you open. It had been far too long since you’d had him inside you.

“Such a good little girl..” His hips snapped towards yours.

“Aren’t ya?” It was an out of body experience, so overwhelming and dizzying you could almost see yourself in the act. Your brain couldn’t comprehend that tone and that gentleness as is, forget when Javier’s cock dragged deliciously against your aching walls.

Your elbows caved from under you, letting you fall completely back against your little desk. Your head went to fall back soon after, but Javier had managed to snake his hand behind your neck– cradling your head and shielding it from the hard wooden table. Instinctively, you buried your nose in the collar of his dress shirt. He let you seek respite, palm holding you against his warm body, and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck.

Your skin felt like pins and needles, little sparks bounced off your exposed waist and prompted you to wiggle your hips away from him at the intensity of the sensations. “Nah uh” yanking you back in his direction Javier squeezed your hips in his hands, refusing to let you escape the death grip he had on your body, pulling you towards him with every deep, slow, thrust.

“Silly little thing” He laughed against your lips, so close they brushed against you. You couldn’t help it when your mouth fell slack against his. He took your bottom lip between his teeth. He released it as your walls clenched around him, brows knitting at the feel of your warm, soft cunt around his cock.

“Mine aren’t ya? Daddy’s good little slut?” Unable to catch hold of anything on the table, your hands flew to his shirt, your fingers twisting the fabric as you gripped it as tightly as you could. He let you pull him towards you, one hand sneaking between your bodies to grab and squeeze at your breast.

“Then you’re gonna take it like I give it to ya?” You tried to nod, head lulling side to side and mouth hanging open, desperate noises leaving your lips. When your back arched against the table he pulled you into his chest, letting you wrap your legs around his waist so tightly you felt the leather of his belt cut into your soft skin.

Eventually he picked up his pace, and you could make out the sound of your pens clattering to the ground as your back moved relentlessly against the desk. The dim grey flood light above you came in and out of your focus, the heat that swelled up inside you hindering your ability to concentrate on absolutely anything. “Getting all cock drunk on me..” Anything but him. Yet another orgasm stirred in your tummy, your entire body hot and tingling with overwhelm. “There’s my good girl”.

He pulled you into him with every thrust, his hard length throbbing inside of you. “Just how I like ya’– no thoughts in that head’ve yours.” Your bare chest pressed against his soft shirt, but you longed to feel the heat of his body against your skin.

“Can't think ‘bout anything but daddy can you?” he managed to laugh, his thick cock dragging against your wet walls in a way that had your mouth falling open in a gasp. “Just daddy, ain't that right?” As usual he grabbed at every part of you he could, hands seeking purchase on any exposed skin.

He grazed your earlobe with his teeth as he spoke. “Poor baby, going dumb on daddy.” All you could do was whine. “Can’t hear ya..” you whimpered again, strained and hasty “yes”s leaving your mouth at record speed as the tension in your core threatened to burst.

“S’ how it should be” your dress made it easy for you to slide along the surface of the table as he fucked into your tight, wet heat, railing you as you twitched around him. You struggled to form a broken “daddy” between your lips.

“Stupid little girl can’t do anything but be daddy’s little sexdoll hmm?” you shook your head, but he grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. “‘S okay babylove, s’ how daddy likes ya best” he shook your face gently, “when ya ain't runnin that smart mouth of yours.”

He grunted and sighs above you, seemingly lost in his own pleasure, not bothering for the first time to make you beg. It was as if the two days you spent apart had him prioritising other things. “Better this way isn’t it, nothin you gotta worry that pretty head about…” you felt your cunt squeeze him. “Not when daddy’s fuckin’ ya’”

You could tell he was close by the way his thick cock throbbed against your slick walls, the way his Texan accent came through just a little more than it usually did. Your thighs quivered against his waist as the heat continued to pool in your belly.

You knew he was close when he straightened up again, hands wrapping firmly around your throat as he angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you over and over. “C’mon baby, be a good girl and come for daddy” he tightened his grip, thumb reaching up to swipe gently at your slack lips.

You felt your pussy clench around his cock, finally letting go as you writhed under him. You heard him groan over the ringing in your ears, your own eyes rolling back as your orgasm rolled over you in waves. You gushed around him, your own release prompting his.

Watching his brows knit as his thrusts got sloppy might have well sent you on a second release, aftershocks making your hips wiggle against his palms as he squeezed them, his cock throbbing inside you before he erupted with a shudder. A string of strained curses escaped his mouth, chest rising and falling rapidly as he rode out his high.

You laid there, the heat from your exertion slowly dissipating. You felt Javier pull out, his spend trickling down your thighs, and slide your panties back up over your legs. A heaviness tugged at your limbs and made your eyelids droop. Every muscle felt loose, languid, as if all the tension and energy had been drawn out, leaving behind only a deep, satisfying fatigue.

Javier put his hands on your waist and lifted you off the table, you returned to your habitual silence, this time albeit far more satiated than before. You were dizzy, feeling like a small ghost floating in front of him, engulfed by his towering form. The world around you began to fade, sounds muffling and blurring into an indistinct background hum.

Every blink became slower, your vision narrowing to slits before closing entirely. You let yourself drift into that warm state between sleep and wakefulness, the exhaustion of the week catching up to you in more ways than one, uncaring of the sense that Javier’s eyes had been lingering. You felt him trace the bridge of your nose, reducing any prospects of you actually getting off that desk.

He fixed your lingerie and tied the bow of your dress back up, one hand returning to stroke your cheek. His other arm came to support your back as it wrapped around you, pulling you towards him. You looked up to find him watching you, with an expression you couldn’t bother to decipher at the moment.

You couldn’t help but fall into his chest as he stood above you, his arms reaching behind you as he packed your things in your work bag. You felt your eyes flutter shut again, complete exhaustion taking over your weak form. He placed a kiss to your temple, lifting you off the table once and into his hold once again. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking securely at the ankles. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, fingers digging into your flesh.

You felt cold again suddenly, and Javier readjusted his arms to hold you with his right while his left rubbed along your shoulders to warm up your skin, prickled with goosebumps.

Your head rested against his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a comforting, rhythmic lull. You nuzzled deeper into the curve of his neck, tilting your head till your nose was brushing the cut of his jaw.

Javier shifted slightly, and you could feel the subtle change in his posture as he leaned towards you, and his face came level with yours– you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a stark contrast to the cool air around you. His hand cradled your cheek.

With your eyes still closed you felt his lips press gently against yours, so pillowy and soft you barely registered them. He tasted how you’d imagined so many times before– cigarettes, and whiskey. Melting into his touch your hands moved to ball the fabric of his shirt gently in your fist. His lips moved against your’s with a carefulness you couldn’t really understand, but the fact that they were at all was enough. Exhaustion aside, you had a feeling the triviality of the whole ordeal, its comfort and normality seemed expected. And just as quickly as it began, it was over.

Perhaps it had always meant a lot more to you, than it did to him.

The hand that was cupping your cheek pinched it and then snaked around your waist to help you find your footing on the ground, the same hand coming down to slap your ass as he pushed you towards the door.

In usual Javier fashion he checked his phone, uninterestedly murmuring a soft “you can start again tomorrow” as you stood in the elevator. He let you lean against him, his palm coming down to pat your head momentarily before it was back to sorting the files in his hands. You looked up at him, his mind now completely diverted to whatever he had come to collect in the office in the first place, so unbothered by what seemed to transpire between the two of you.

Perhaps nothing really did.

You wished his words gave you some motivation, but it was turning out to be really difficult to want to be anything more than his dumb, silly, little girl.

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

They would rue the day I was alone, without you

You're lyin' with your gold chain on

Cigar hangin' from your lips, I said, "Hon'"

"You never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man"

sakjdlakd I'm sorry I just can't let them be happy lmao. Hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you think. Thank you to everyone who reblogs and comments on my content, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @/sardika 🐝✨💗

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madlori · 1 month ago

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Ok my fam, I think we all need a lil Come to Jesus moment. So let's talk about it.

"I'm disappointed Tommy wasn't in 8x02 and 8x03." That's ok! We'd all like to see him, and see our boys together. Going by precedent, we can probably expect to see him in 6-8 episodes this season (it could be more - Taylor had 13 episodes in season 5 - but we shouldn't count on it) and we've already burned one. I'd prefer not to have half of them during the opening disaster when SO MUCH ELSE is going on. I'd rather him appear in episodes when he's got a storyline with Buck, or even on his own, and especially at the midseason break or the end of the season when Relationship Events are more likely to happen.

"But the 217 engine!" I know. But as we sometimes like to say to other fans - we kind of baited ourselves with that. It was suggestive, sure. But the fact that production has MADE a 217 engine is also suggestive that we may see it again later, and they just put it in the hangar scene because they already had it and they had to fill up that hangar with as many vehicles as possible.

"An airplane disaster without using the pilot??" As others have pointed out, Tommy's not a jet pilot. And don't let anybody make you think you were nuts for thinking it was possible. It was definitely a reasonable theory, with supporting evidence, that he might be involved, but in the end, the big opening disaster is always going to be about our mains. As it should be. And honestly? It was great.

"But the whole point of bringing him back was to integrate him with the 118 more!" I'm sure that's still a goal they have, but it's probably easier said than done. Not just from a writing standpoint, but a contractual one, in that there's a limit to how often they can use him, so they have to pick and choose where.

"It's like they don't care about this relationship as much as we do." You're right. NOBODY will care about it as much as we do. They care about the main characters, about the show's actual premise (i.e. first responders encountering wild situations, secondarily the characters' personal lives). There is no universe in which ANY relationship in the show will be prioritized as much as we, the fandom, would like it to be. That's just life in the big city. But they do care, oh boy, they do. Enough to use BT scenes in off-season promo. Enough to write Tommy into a scene in the opening episode where, frankly, he didn't NEED to be. Also, consider this - to shoot that scene, Lou was probably on set a grand total of one day, MAYBE two. And they made sure to include him in the jokey "bee pickup lines" reel. You know what other relationship we haven't seen much? Buddie. They have not appeared together outside of work (and honestly, barely AT work either) except in the birthday party scene, and hey, did you notice that they do not interact at ALL in that scene? Buck spends that entire scene interacting only with Tommy. And that's a friendship featuring two mains that we know they value. That's not indicative of anything except the sheer scarcity of screentime.

"They should be promoting the queer relationship!" Should they? They've never really done that before, with the several pre-existing queer relationships. I have always sort of appreciated that they have not hung a neon sign on Buck and Tommy saying LOOK AT OUR NEW QUEER PAIRING. It's never gotten the Very Special Episode treatment - Buck never had gay panic, or much coming-out drama - and I like that. I like treating it no differently than other romantic pairings on the show. And they did actually promote it quite a bit when it happened. Now it would just feel kinda performative to me.

"Will he be in [whatever episode]?" Imma gently suggest we not do this every week. He'll be there or he won't. There'll be some we know he's in (I think 8x06 is a lock), some we won't know and will be pleasantly surprised, or unpleasantly surprised. I'd say odds for 8x04 are...20%, rising to at least 50% with 8x05 and 100% for 8x06.

And if you ever feel sad about it - go look at a still of Buck from any episode so far this season, and say to yourself, "This man is having heaps of amazing sex with his hot pilot boyfriend on the regular. Canonically."

I know a lot of us have encountered some pretty irritating gloating from people who hate this relationship (in a frankly weirdly obsessive way) about him being not there. Just remember - that's all they have to gloat about. The only "victory" they can claim is the absence of a character? Lame. And it's not even a victory, it's just the cost of doing business when your ship involves a recurring character. Sit back and enjoy your canon relationship between two men who've actually kissed on screen and ignore it. We can be generous about it.

So let's not talk ourselves off the deep end, shall we? I'd like to keep being a reasonable fandom.

#bucktommy #9-1-1 #911 abc #911 discourse #911 shipping #tommy kinard #evan buckley

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riordanness · 1 year ago

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pick up lines - [p.jackson]

pairing: percy jackson x reader

wordcount: 1.4K

warnings: none

I hated waking up.

Not that sleeping was particularly amazing, being a demigod and all, but waking up really sucked. I'd been resting peacefully (not), when I was rudely shaken from my sleep by the breakfast bell.

Unfortunately, I had never been an early riser, so most mornings, there was a mad rush, involving a lot of mess, losing everything I needed, and desperately trying, (and failing) to clean up my cabin before inspection, which was right after breakfast.

I was generally the one who had the messiest cabin during inspection.

I finally was dressed in jeans and an orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, with my h/c hair pulled away from my face. Then, I ran to the dining pavilion.

I was a daughter of Demeter, the plant goddess. Yeah, I'm sure most of you are thinking: Oh, wow, plants... But seriously, it's kinda cool. I do have some pretty sweet powers. I can grow any plants from practically nothing, control plants and stuff, and sense things in the earth. I can even use plants to travel instantly from one place to another, by just hopping through the trees, or seeds, or flowers, or weeds, or . . . whatever.

I slipped into my seat next to Katie Gardner, my elder sister. She was the counsellor for Cabin Demeter. Katie was super nice, but she was always busy at the moment, mostly hanging out with her new boyfriend, Travis Stoll, Son of Hermes.

"You slept in again," Katie whispered to me, trying, and failing epically, to hide her laughter. "We thought it was best not to try and wake you."

That was probably smart. If someone woke me up, they'd most likely leave that situation with a black eye and seeds growing in their skin. I can be fairly lethal when I want to be.

"I stated up too late again last night," I said back, my voice also low. I didn't like when other kids were listening in on my conversations, especially those Hermes kids.

"Doing what?" Katie smirked, like she knew something I didn't.

"Um..." What was I doing? Hanging out with my best friend of course. Who also happened to be the cutest and most popular guy at camp. The only current Son of Posiedon. Percy Jackson.

"I was with Percy, at the beach. We were finding lost starfish and chucking them back in the water..." My voice faltered. I wasn't good at lying. 'At the beach' was accurate. We'd been laying on a picnic blanket, watching the stars, and just talking about everything and anything, for hours. We did that almost every night. It was the best feeling in the world, just being with him.

"Uh huh." Katie turned back to her food. "He likes you, y/n, I'm sure of it. Just as much as you like him, I bet."

"Katie!" I hissed, my face beet red, but the words pleased me. I'd had a crush on Percy Jackson since the first day he arrived at Camp Half-Blood, tired and bruised and scratched from fighting the Minotaur. He'd limped into camp, stole my heart, and became the coolest guy at camp within a month.

And yes, I was in love with him. We'd been best friends for years, and we hung out all the time. How could I possibly not fall for him, with his stupid trouble-maker grin, his dark, messy hair, his sparkling sea-green baby-seal eyes, and his voice. He was, at least in my eyes, perfect.

***

Later, I was practicing my sword-fighting in the arena, hacking arms and legs and heads off the stuffed straw dummies. I'd never been the best fighter, but I felt like I was getting the hang of my sword.

"Are you a child of Hermes?" a joking voice rang out from behind me. I spun around, and came face to face with one of the Hephestus kids. Leo Valdez, maybe?

I blew my hair out of my face, breathing hard. "Um, no? Demeter, actually. Why?"

The boy, Leo, cracked a grin. "Because you stole my heart."

I blinked, not sure what to say. I never really spoke to any of the kids from Hephestus cabin, especially not this one.

"Uh, okay... thanks, I guess?"

Leo grinned again, then ran off without saying anything else. Okay... that was pretty weird.

I decided to go for a walk, to cool down and to stretch my legs a bit, so I headed for the basketball courts, where a bunch of kids were playing a really aggressive game.

I plopped down on the grass a few meters back from the courts, and watched the game. It looked like Ares and Apollo (a strange match), against Athena, Dionysus, and a couple other kids, like Jason Grace, Nico Di Angelo, and Percy.

I found myself watching Percy more than the other players, but snapped my eyes away from him once I realised. I didn't want anyone seeing me staring at my best friend.

After a while, the players called for a break, and Jason Grace approached me. "Oh, hey (Y/N)," he smiled at me, sitting beside me and taking a swig of water from a drink bottle.

"Hey," I said back. Again, I was surprised at why Jason was talking to me. He didn't usually. Demeter kids were looked over quite a bit, and Jason was one of the big shots - a child of Zeus. Of course, Percy was a son of Posiedon, and he talked to me, but that was different. I'd known Percy for years, even before we came here at twelve years old. I'd know him since he was seven.

"Are you a child of Hades?" Jason asked suddenly.

I frowned at him. "No. Demeter, actually. Why does everyone keep-?"

I was cut off by Jason grinning and saying: "Because I'm dying to call you mine."

I swallowed. "Um..."

Jason got up and walked away, heading back to his game. I was totally confused, so I stood up, brushed off my jean shorts, and decided to go to the strawberry fields, where I usually spent most of my time, among the plants. Plants always calmed me down, and this random guys telling me pick-up lines were a little stressful. I wasn't the kind of girl who normally got guys, anyway.

After a few minutes of walking up and down the strawberry aisles, I ran into Nico di Angelo. Nico wasn't usually the sort of person you ran into in the strawberry fields, so I was surprised.

"Oh, hi, Nico," I said cheerily, waving at him. Nico and I were actually pretty good friends, so I was glad to see him. We got along surprisingly well, considering our parents' rivalry. You know, the whole Persephone getting kidnapped thing.

"Are you a child of Hephestus?" Nico stammered, blushing with embarrassment.

At this point, I was utterly confused.

"No!" I said, frowning. "I'm a daughter of Demeter, and I know you know that, Nico. And why does everyone keep trying these stupid pick-up lines on me? Besides... you like guys, don't you?"

"Well, um..." Nico shrugged and ran off, leaving me in a state of helpless confusion.

I sank to my knees in the soft grass, picking at it with my fingers. "What's happening with me today?" I wondered aloud.

"Hey, are you Aphrodite?" a familiar voice asked. "Because you're divinely gorgeous."

I glanced up, meeting the sea-green eyes of my best friend. "Percy?" I asked. "You too? What's-?"

Percy stopped me, sitting down cross-legged beside me. "Hey, I've- I've liked you for ages, but I never told you because I was scared you'd not feel the same and so we'd lose our awesome friendship, but the guys found out and so they were trying to make me jealous enough to admit me feelings today, by trying out pick-up lines on you, so, well, I- I decided that I should just tell you.”

I sucked in a breath. "Oh my gods," I managed. "You stupid son of Posiedon."

"What?" Percy chuckled nervously.

"Are you a child of the Sea God?" I asked softly. "Because I'm drowning in your beautiful eyes."

Gathering all my courage, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth against Percy's, feeling him smile against my lips, and I couldn't have wished for anything more.

#fanfiction #percy jackson #fanfic #pjo #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez x reader #nico di angelo x reader #jason grace x reader #percy jackson fanfic #pjo fanfic #rick riordan

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nisuna · 1 year ago

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Dubcon? Reader is blindfolded and restrained to a bed and the only way they’ll be released is if they can guess which one of the anemo boys tongues is eating them out (anemo boys take turns eating reader out) ☺️

Uuuuhhh yaay a Genshin one >×<

Anemo boys have my heart especially (my C3😏) Kazuha 🥰

Thank you for your take!!<3

~short drabble~

You didn't know why you agreed to this. Who would let themselves get blindfolded and bound to bed with the task of guessing who was eating them out. Uh, you of course! (And Kazuha sweet talking you into it. Darn him.)

Venti was first and he did surprisingly well, but he was an old Archon after all, so he must've gotten it back in the day, right! He started off slow, easing his fingers into you and kitten-licking your clit. After a while he sped up and switched to sucking and slightly nipping on your clit. Surprise, surprise he made you cum on his face in record time.

Mext was Scara, oh no. He'd definitely be mean. Making you look at him between your legs while he kept avoiding your clit completely and only finger fucking you. "Keep them spread like that or you won't be cumming tonight." Oh, and of course he'd edge you. The sadist in him stayed even though he changed his identity. He'd blow on your core making you clench around nothing making you whine and calling you pathetic afterwards. :( He was kind enough to let you cum in the end, but with a lot of begging and namecalling involved.

Kazuha was a heavenly sent aber the last one. He was kind and kept talking you through it asking if you felt good and praising you for taking his finger so well. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, making your back arch from the bed and your toes curl. He put your legs over his shoulders, alternating between nipping at your soft thighs and your throbbing clit. You never wanted this to end to say the least. On top of making you feel so good his touch made you all fuzzy inside, caging his face between your legs and slightly rutting your hips against his tongue. And this angel let you do it! You were in pure bliss as soon as he made you cream all over his fingers and tongue. He even cleaned you with his tongue almost pushing you over the edge again. But there was still more cum!

Next was Heizou. He was definitely a little tease, but not as bad as Scara. He knew how to work you open alternating between sinking his fingers in your wet heat and and occasionally dipping his tongue in, making sure to pay attention to your clit at all times. Either with his fingers or tongue. He read somewhere about writing the alphabet with your tongue while eating someone out, because it made the pattern random. God did that work. He kept spelling different words with his tongue against your clit making you squirm, only for him to put his arm around your tummy to stop you from running away. He definitely made you cum hard.

"Here, you can hold onto my hair." Oh Xiao. Behind his stoic exterior he was defintely very shy not exactly knowing what to do. But he gained some confidence after watching the other guys attentively. So he basically made out with your cunt slurping loudly trying to fit in as many fingers as possible. Making you gasp and almost lose your breath. He felt a bit clumsy but when he heard you call his name and pull on his hair he went Conqueror of Demons mode, folding you in half and almost eating you alive. Your tiny mewls spurring him on and making you cum so suddenly it knocked the air out of you. Suffice to say he did a good job for his alleged first time.

Bonus Aether. Definitely not as experienced and very shy so he just made you ride his face and do your own thing. It was a nice change and stark contrast to the other guys.

So how's your score looking did you manage to guess everyone? Yes and No. You were too fucked out to form a coherent sentence and almost missed one of them whispering if they should play the guessing game again. But this time you'd have to guess who's fucking you. Oh boy, it's going to be a long night.

------

Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^

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anakinstwinklebunny · 14 days ago

Note

hey queen i love ur writing!!! i was just wondering if you’d be down to write anymore dad!sam monroe stuff? i read ur last one and i loved it! it’s so rare to find sam stuff, let alone him as a dad el oh el 🙋‍♀️ if not it’s rlly cool ! i’m a big fan of u diva 💜

Author's note: now that's a really sweet message. I HAVE FANS OH MY AND I AM A DIVAAAAAA (instantly have Beyonce song in mind that existence i found out from tik tok)

TW: sam being a dad (lmao)

Dad!Sam who definitely got at least (and at frist) being yelled at by his mother after she found out you're pregnant and sam's going to be a father! But from the beginning she was all supportive and willing to help you

Dad!Sam who got that hardened, sometimes distant look, but when it comes to his kid? Pure, over-the-top, protective dad mode. He might be rough around the edges but the second his baby is involved, you and everyone can see this warmth in his eyes.

Dad!Sam who's definitely the kind of dad to insult every other kid but not his cute angel. He'd also give this pure 'dad look' whenever someone wants to mess with his kid

Dad!Sam who's the type to stay up late, laying on his son's bed, the little one cuddled to his side and (depends on the age) babbling/lisping about his day or anything he has in mind. Although Sam is not great with giving adive, hell, he often doesn't want to do this (out of his experience in life - or his lack of confidence to be in position to give such) yet he'll try to be honest, in the kidness way possible for SAM MONROE, saying something like - "life's tough, but you're tougher than anything out there" in such gentle whisper

Dad!Sam who became such a cuddly bear with his son. Often he'll just scoop him up and hug him close, inhaling the toddler's soft hair and pressing a light kiss there. Or sometimes he forgets to tuck his baby boy in his bed because bed time is already over and his mother (or you) have to wake him up, the teenager that's all cudled under a blanket with his twin, only for sam to blink blindly as curse under his nose without thinking

Dad!Sam who, after building a house with his father, started loving those little projects for his kid - whenever it was fixing a bike, or building a treehouse, a swing in the garden, he cherished it.

Dad!Sam who definitely called his son "kid"/"kiddo"/"buddy"/"little man"/"little guy"/"sam junior" (although your son was far from being named sam)

Dad!Sam who may seem like a guy who won't take responsibilty for his child, especially in that young age and with problems he had dealt with, but sam wasn't such bastard. He was extremely present in his son's life and wouldn't miss any of his big or little achievements, So, your pregnancy really did mature him

Dad!Sam who has no idea how to cook but tries his damn best, especially when his mother tried to teach him some recipes. But, Sam being Sam, burns most of the food - especially pancakes that your son loves. "this can't be that hard, right?" he'll mumble under his breath when yet another pancake turned out to be crispy

Dad!Sam who's not exactly 'the father of the year' material but he swears he's doing his best. He might not know how to do all the "kid" stuff, but he'll squat down to his son's eye level, ruffle his hair and try to figure things out on the spot. There's this tough softness to him, the way he tries to talk to his son seriously, like the little guy gets it all, even if half the time he's just babbling back at him

Dad!Sam who isn't one for lullabies, but he'll sit by his son's bed in the middle of the night and again sam being sam, humming soft rock tunes while letting the boy hold onto his hand if he can't sleep or had a nightmare

Dad!Sam who doesn't mind his boy clinging to his leg or, when sam's sitting on the floor, the little guy clambering all over him, especially pushing himself under sam's arm so he'd hug him

Dad!Sam who tries to hide this gentlesness he has but it's clear it doesn't work whenever he'll fix the boy's shirt, or very gently dress him up, softly talking to the boy random things or when he brushes crumbs off his son's chubby cheeks

Dad!Sam who's obviously having this proud dad face when he sees his boy taking first steps with you. And when the giggling toddler will land on him, he'll just catch him, murmuring "now look at you, becoming a big guy already..wow"

Dad!Sam who's natural when it comes to showing his son simple things, like picking up sticks or skipping rocks. It's quiet, no big lessons needed, just Sam kneeling down, guiding his son's tiny hands and watching with that rare grin when he actually gets it right "just like that buddy" he'll say, pride in his voice as he watches his kid grope all over the tecture of rock. It's just two of them sitting by the lake like it's the most important thing in the world, while you are in the background with both his family and yours

Dad!Sam who every night, does that little routine, where he tucks his boy in, his big hands gently patting the blanket down. He'll smooth back his kid's hair, fingers lingering just a second longer, and whisper "goodnight, pal" his son reaches up, as usually, fingers trying to grab at his dad's shirt. So sam stays till those cute little fingers go slack, and when the little guy is all asleep, sam will kiss his forehead a few times

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless

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hollycrowned · 3 months ago

Text

cipherhunt log: some sunny day

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?

On July 27th, I went to the Hillsboro Barnes & Noble signing event for The Book of Bill. I’ve decided to come back to this account at least for a moment to write a little bit about what it was like. At the end of this post, there’s some Cipher Hunt related news, so be sure to read all the way through.

The Q&A was a lot of fun. There was excitement in the air even before the event began, with eager fans wearing Dipper hats and flannel shirts hurrying to their seats. A few fans were in cosplay, too, which was heartwarming to see. While there were several kids with their parents in the audience, most of the fans there were younger adults—which really made it hit me that the series first aired over ten years ago.

By total accident I ended up next to the door Alex stepped through and caught his entrance:

Alex has the type of charm that can get anyone laughing, and his own laughter is contagious. I didn’t record much of the talk, wanting to simply experience it, but here’s a short video I took of him talking about how The Book of Bill came about:

Over the half hour, Alex talked about the the book itself, about the show, his characters, and about creating a television series. Fans, when the mic was turned over to the audience, said what they love most about the series and asked about intentionality and the possibility of crossovers (Alex’s immediate “yes” was a hit). Alex expressed after one question that while he never could have guessed that people would like Gravity Falls so much, he’s grateful for the enduring love fans have for the show.

The event coordinator, who schooled a few questions to Alex before mic was given over to the audience, asked what I think we all want to know: “What are you working on right now?” Alex gave the answer he’s given in the past: that as is typical in Hollywood, he can’t talk about the projects he’s currently involved in.

If you were around when I was active here, you might remember that by the time I left, my focus had become to follow Alex through his career. To recap: after Gravity Falls ended, Deadline reported in 2018 that Alex had signed a multi-year exclusive contract with Netflix. Not long after, Netflix announced the opening of its own animation studio, alongside a reel showcasing some of the artists they’d recruited. The reel highlighted that this group of artists included industry legends, young talent, and diverse voices; each artist in the reel talked how excited they were for what the studio itself meant the future of animation, and for the opportunity to work there. Alex was in this reel, too.

Although I’ve moved on to other fandoms and my own creative work, I’ve kept up with movements in the animation industry. If you have, too, you may know about the massive cuts and cancellations Netflix has made in the last several years, especially to its animation department. Alex has produced and consulted on a few projects at Netflix since his contract began—chief among them Inside Job, which was initially renewed by for a second season before Netflix reversed their decision six months later and cancelled the series altogether. Shion Takeuchi, the creator of Inside Job and previous writer on Gravity Falls, confirmed the cancellation, saying “I’m heartbroken.” Alex, in a reply, expressed the same, adding, “Grateful to have had the chance to help on one of my best friends shows, for however briefly”.

In the six years since Alex signed his contract with Netflix, there have been hints that he’s been working on a series with his name on the masthead. In late 2020, he tweeted about staffing his new show:

But if his project was among the cuts Netflix made a few years after that, he gave no sign of it in his answer.

It’s jarring, and saddening, to watch that reel from 2018 with the knowledge of what has happened since. Outside of Netflix, things seem just as dire, with the dragging of AI into animation giants like Disney and Dreamworks by their corporate executives—notably, as The Animation Guilds’ contract approached its expiration date. In 2023, Vulture published an article which included testimonies from four artists who worked on Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse about the unsustainable working conditions at Sony while the film was in production. Over the last few years, Warner Bros has shelved two animated films and one hybrid for multimillion-dollar tax write-offs. In addition, their subsidiary HBO Max purged multiple animated series from its catalogue, denying the artists who worked on them access to their own works—and for some of them, residuals as well.

The final question at the Q&A was from a fan who said that they’re currently in school for animation. They asked Alex if he had any advice for new animators trying to break into the industry. Immediately, my mind went to all of that news I linked in the paragraphs above. I listened intently…

Alex’s response did not have hopelessness in it. He did talk, foremost and with humor, about how risky it is to pursue art as a career, especially at this moment—laughed, as he ended a sentence with, “Don’t go into the arts.” But he moved on from that, and gave an even more honest reply: hone your skills, put your work out there, and don’t give up. Be persistent, share what you make, make what you love. Make sure it’s easy for people to contact you, explore feelings through your work even when it’s uncomfortable, and show your work to others, even though it’s scary. Alex also remarked on creating itself being hard work, from the raw process to putting your art out there to taking criticism to learning from what didn’t work and applying it to your drafts and future projects. Hard work, challenging in more ways than one, on top of an unforgiving cultural moment, yes—but keep going. Keep creating.

Keep making art.

Then the Q&A ended, and the signing began. I found myself at the end of the line, but I didn’t mind; neither did anyone else waiting with me. In the moments when I wasn’t chatting with other fans, I thought about that last question and Alex’s response.

There is little that is easy about being an artist these days. I have come to know this by having friends who are artists, by following the careers and accounts of other artists, by reading the news, and—since becoming an artist myself—finding out firsthand. But I have come to know, just as well, that the best remedy for these ills is community. Whether you create art as a hobby or you have a career in the arts, whether your medium is collaborative or solitary in nature: in the face of intolerable working conditions, cutthroat corporations and corner-cutting clients, the advantages they take, the instability and uncertainty, and what all artists can relate to: the challenges of the creative process itself—it’s the support of your fellow artists that helps you survive. It helps art survive. A community that creates alongside you can give trusted critique, celebrate with you, stand up for you, introduce you to other artists you can learn from, and give what is necessary for so many of us to create at all: encouragement. A voice that says, keep creating. This gives to the world what is necessary for us all: more art.

If tech companies develop their AI by stealing from artists, if the c-suites who own the studios see artists as disposable, with the way freelancing can throw water on creative fire, if popular opinion increasingly trends toward art only having as much value as money it makes, then we must support each other. Helpful, practical advice given by a successful artist on how to succeed in the arts in this particular moment is a gem to anyone who is reaching for that goal. But invaluable and eternal is example; not just of success, but of how to be good to your fellow artists—and in turn, to yourself.

And I just think that’s how an artist ought to be.

As the line moved, and I got close enough to see the signing table across the room, I watched Alex greet the fans ahead of me. I found that he was as sweet to people as I always have heard he is, as I remember from watching the Periscopes he appeared in during Cipher Hunt: generous with his time, genuine, and good-natured. One fan skipped away from the table with their book, and a big smile on their face.

And then it was my turn.

When you meet him, he looks you in the eye. I always forget, until I shake someone else’s hand, how small my own hands are. I told him my name is Holly. He asked, “Spelled how it sounds?” I spelled it for him, reflexively, before I could fully process the question and simply say yes. I said lightheartedly that he must be extra happy to see us, being that we were at the end of the line—it was over three hours after the event had begun—and he said, “I’m sorry you all had to wait for this long.” While he was signing my copy, I asked if he was enjoying Portland—though what I really meant to ask was if he was happy to be back in the PNW, in the summertime. He said yes, he loves it here.

It all happened so fast, with me completely forgetting that I’d passed my phone to a kind father of some fans waiting near me in line, and I almost walked away without getting a picture with him. When you meet a celebrity crush from your younger years, it has you reckon with how the part of you who crushed back then has walked with you through time—in what ways who you were back then is still a part of who you are now, and who you want to be. And, of course, it gets your heart beating a little faster, too.

There was much more I wanted to ask him (this has never stopped being the case), but there were other fans waiting for their turn, and he had given his time to just shy of 150 people already. So I smiled at him, and said thank you, and moved along.

I am, and always will be, excited to see anything Alex makes. Hearing him talk about his art, and artistry, and being an artist, was beyond wonderful; not only young Holly’s wish come true, but inspiring for Holly, today—as an artist in my own right. In the years since I retired this account, as I’ve read all this news about the industry, I’ve often wondered how Alex has been. I am very happy and grateful I was lucky enough to get a ticket to the signing, and meet him.

And finally…the Cipher Hunt news.

First: the fan waiting in front of me in the signing line (I’m so sorry I didn’t get your name, but if you’re reading this, I hope you had a safe and smooth flight back home!) said she had been to Confusion Hill recently, and that Bill and the treasure box are still there. I haven’t been to Confusion Hill since I last went in 2017–before COVID—but I think about Bill and the treasure box all the time. It made me so happy to hear that fans are still visiting and exchanging treasures. I hope I get to go again, someday soon.

The second announcement: by chance, I happened to meet a fan who is working on a documentary about Cipher Hunt. I introduced myself and said I’d be more than happy to help out with the project! The creator, Keyan Carlile, can be found on both Twitter and YouTube. I hope you’ll follow along!

I met so many other lovely fans while waiting in line, as well. There is still so much affection and excitement for this series, and it was so nice to step back into the fandom, if only or a moment. If we spoke with each other: it was so nice to meet you! Maybe our paths will cross again, someday. And to everyone, all of the fans who were there, and all of you out there with The Book of Bill:

happy reading!! ∆

#gravity falls #alex hirsch #the book of bill #cipher hunt #cipherhunt #logs only

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mrwinterr · 1 year ago

Text

enjoy the ride | ~preview

Pairing: Eddie Munson x PornStar!Female Reader

Summary: Eddie meets his favorite actress. It's you. You’re his favorite adult film star.

Warnings: None right now, but will be 18+ (smut) so no minors plz.

Disclaimer: None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series take place in this piece. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up.

Pre A/N: I've had this in my docs for a while, so instead of letting it rot, I'm posting a preview. Enjoy, I guess.

Eddie didn’t have plans for the weekend. No event to deal at, no gig booked, no campaign prepared, just the prospect of hoping to relax, a simple night in.

So for him, it was a surprise to run into you since you’d graduated. He couldn’t help but notice the slight transformations you’d undergone. You had seldom spoken to Eddie throughout the school years except for in passing or the occasional transactions involving substances, which had been mere business rather than personal. He thought you were cute back then, but with the passing of time, it had brought about significant growth and development, catching Eddie’s full attention once more.

His mind raced as he contemplated the possibilities that lay before him. The thought of reconnecting with you, a gateway to a possibility of exploring a potential deeper connection. Would he come up and say hi to you? Spit out something witty? Sell you more weed? Ask about what movie you’re looking at or how have you been since leaving him in the educational prison? Not that it was your fault he got held back… Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, his fight or flight mode was activated and he chose to flee.

He nearly knocks heads with Steve as he crashes into the counter, startling Robin at the register.

“Jesus, dude, what’s the rush? We still have half an hour before we close,” Steve says, annoyance seeping in.

“Did you guys know you have a fucking movie star in your store?!” Eddie whispers loudly disregarding Steve’s remark and the weird stare from Robin.

Bewildered by this question, the two exchanged confused looks in response to his words. The store was so dead, and your hushed presence as you browsed through their selections, had caused them to forget they weren’t alone. As far as they were concerned it was just Eddie inside the building with them. They just wanted to close up shop and go home.

You weren’t looking for any movie in particular actually, but when you noticed Family Video now had added an adult section you were curious to see the collection they offered, even more that some of your films made it on the shelf.

You didn’t care that your face was on display, especially in a small town of close minded people to see. It was your life after all. You were here for a good time, not a long time, right? Not to mention it was kind of an ego booster to know that the people who didn’t give you the time of day now wanted you or at the very least, good or bad, thoughts of you invaded their minds. It was sadistic and at the same time amusing because oh, had the tables turned.

A smirk etched its way upon your lips as the realization washed over you - you had made it…in some sense. Perhaps not to the heights of stardom, but in that moment, it felt as though you were on top of the world, a quiet victory.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was a fan of your work, a fan of your movies. It had all started when he rented a different tape starring his then former favorite actress. You were in the bonus scene included. You instantly stole the spotlight for him that instead of finishing off to a full movie, he managed to with a short three minute preview of you. It didn’t take him long to make a connection as to why you looked familiar.

Going back to her closing duties, Robin turns away from the conversation as Steve holds his slightly irritated gaze at Eddie trying to make sense of what he was talking about.

“Who are you talking about?” He asks, response laced with confusion seeking clarity.

Eddie’s disbelief was evident as he blinked once, then a few more times, and shaking his head, unable to comprehend that they were unaware of the other person that was in the same building as them.

“Y/N!” He finally answers them, “Y/N is here,” he says again, pointing discreetly in the direction of the secluded area of the store, the pair realizing it was from the adult section.

Met with blank stares, Eddie let out a sigh of defeat escape his lips, shoulders slumped in the process, displaying clear disappointment in his friends. You were a big thing to him and the lack of shared enthusiasm only deflated his mood. The disconnect between their understanding of your presence and his own excitement weighed heavily on Eddie’s spirit as he quickly realized that they didn’t recognize you.

“Y/N. Y’know…Hawkins High Class of ‘84. Pornstar Y/N,” Eddie hints.

“Pornstar?” Robin questioned, surprise evident in her voice.

“Y/N? Sweet, quiet, Y/N?” Steve asked, seeking confirmation as if he couldn’t believe what his friend was saying.

“Yes, that Y/N!” Eddie affirmed.

The same sense of smug satisfaction stayed with you and only increased with the conversation you overheard when you made your way to checkout.

As you eavesdropped on Eddie’s hurried conversation with Robin and Steve, you couldn’t help but be intrigued by the intensity and urgency in his voice, especially when he was talking about you. The words spilled from his mouth in a rapid succession that left Steve and Robin struggling to keep up.

“Hold up. Did you say she’s a pornstar now?” Robin asked, needing further clarification to which Eddie nodded in response.

“Wait, how do you know that?” Steve asks only to be met with Eddie’s widened eyes conveying a “how else do you think, idiot?” kind of way.

“Oh! Ew, dude!” Steve yells, expressing his disgust before backing away.

“You had to ask,” Robin chuckled, finding the situation now amusing.

“Come on, man. Grow up. It’s totally normal,” Eddie retorted, debunking Steve’s appalled demeanor. Robin nodded in agreement.

“Still, I don’t want to think about it,” Steve insisted, crossing his arms.

“Whatever. Did you guys know she was even in here?” Eddie asked.

“No. I guess we forgot when you got here. She’s probably been here for a while,” said Steve.

“She got here a little before you did,” Robin suddenly recalls, "I remember now because Dingus flirted up a storm with her.”

“Don’t start with that,” Steve quickly defends himself, “I wasn’t the only one doing the flirting,” he added as the two revived their unsettled debate from earlier.

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, silencing the two, “She’s been in here that long and I’ve been walking around this place like a damn tool wasting my time?” he exclaimed in frustration.

“Well, what would you have done if you knew I was here?” You piped up, throwing Eddie a curveball, your smooth voice catching all three of their attention.

Eddie spun around, his mouth opening and closing without uttering a single world. He struggled to grasp his own thoughts, attempting to decide on his next move. Every ounce of self-confidence he just had seemed to evaporate from his being as his eyes traveled up and down your figure.

Post A/N: I'll finish this someday...but thoughts?

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson #smut #mrwinterr writes

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vncannyvalleygrrl · 4 months ago

Note

I'll get on my knees and beg

Alan with an incredibly tall reader (maybe more male leaning) LIKE AHHH

Ik requests are delayed but this is in advance

Alan red × like 12 foot tall reader, maybe a demon

Picture this, after the bosses wife kinda...yk and he got half of hell, he also received a trusty servant (Satan has many) and reader basically becomes Mr bosses like bodyguard, and therefor becomes security for smiling friends( we don't want another James situation) do whatever you like, NSFW is optional irdm

I need this sarcastic man I wanna take him to his Dr monster appointments

omg i lovee this request!! i'm just gonna make the reader like a super tall masc demon with like horns and wings and stuff. i love this idea tho, thanks for requesting!

Allan Red x Demon!Reader

includes: general, dating, and some 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎 Allan nsfw.

small warning for a bit of graphic content, just a little beheading (he'll be ok trust)

General

Okayyy... Allan was not expecting this. Or rather, you. I don't think anyone expected this.

Everyone was freaking out when this unnaturally tall, red-winged demon crouched down into the doors of the building, barely fitting without your knees pressing against the floor. Naturally, because of your height, the rest of your body was proportional. In other words, you were fucking huge.

Once Mr.Boss explained to the boys that you were nothing but a lowly servant to him, they seemed to calm down a little.

Slowly, over time, everyone got used to your presence. They even added a soft rug so your knees wouldn't hurt. For being a literal demon, the boys were surprised by how kind you were to them, returning your generosity. Allan though... was a bit weary.

He often watched you with squinted eyes as he performed his tasks, never completely turning his back on you.

This continued until one fateful afternoon. Somehow Charlie and Pim managed to piss off some insane client who ran into the office, guns blazing. You managed to control the situation (by twisting the gunman's head off), saving the lives of everyone involved (besides that one guy but he'll be okay tho).

Allan began to trust you after that. At first it was small things, like acknowledging your existence, but it evolved into small chats here and there. Soon, he began to treat you as another coworker, even a friend.

He was fascinated by how tall you were. Everyone was, but especially Allan because usually he's taller than everyone else. He isn't used to bending his neck up to look at someone in the eyes.

He's always been one for knowledge. Sit down with him, share a cup of tea, and tell him about yourself. It's not everyday that someone gets to talk to a demon, he's savoring this as much as possible.

Dating

Allan is already a bit hesitant on dating, so it would take a lot for him to date a literal demon, no matter how nice you are to him. But if you somehow manage to court Allan and make him yours, get ready for a few things.

He has attempted to set up a date in Hell to be romantic, seeing as that's where you're from, but he quickly realizes that blistering heat and the screams of the perished aren't that enchanting. Would much prefer a trip to the museum, or if you prefer, the park.

If you're a demon that has wings, he will ask at least once if you can fly him around the city. He says it's just to save on gas money, but you know the real reason. If you agree, maybe you can take him to his Dr.Monster appointments! (He trusts you not to tell Charlie what it means.)

He understands that being 12 feet tall (144 inches) comes with a lot of issues. You barely fit into any buildings, strangers gawk and take photos of you, horrible back problems, etc. Allan really tries to accommodate, bless his heart, but he cannot not be blunt about it. He doesn't realize it either.

"Babe-uh, I don't think you can fit in my apartment-tuh."

Unironically calls you his succubus/incubus to flirt and thinks it's romantic. If you think it is then you two are a perfect match.

🚨 NSFW 🚨

Ok maybe he was right about the succubus/incubus thing because wow you are a freak. And he returns the energy right back.

Willing to fuck anywhere anytime. Eventually you manage to Pavlov's Dog him with nothing but bedroom eyes and a small smile. He does not care what you do to him, just tie him up and he'll be happy.

Overstimulation? Yes. Edging? Yes. Face riding? You already know it's a fat yes from him. Gets a little too into it and tries asking you to do temperature play with your fire abilities (up to you if you want to accept or not.)

As a demon, you have inhuman strength, and Allan practically begs you to use it on him every session. Hold down his hips while he grinds on your thigh, pin his knees up to his chest as you eat him out, Good Lord he does not care how you use it. Whatever makes him have the best orgasm is fine with him.

If you two are dating and it happens to heat up, he's much more considerate of your needs during intercourse. He learns what your body needs, how to properly stimulate you, etc. He's even open to the idea of some butt stuff. (Not fisting/anal on him, he's scared that would rip him a new hole.)

He is a 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀

A/N: sososo sorry about the late request! something irl has recently come up and i kinda got sidetracked, requests will be slowed for a bit but i am writing them! also for those waiting for the charlie tits drawing it's gonna be awhile (like maybe a week i'm doing it for anatomy practice) (i'm telling myself it's for anatomy practice) (i just like man boobs)

#smiling friends headcanons #smiling friends x reader #alan red #alan red x reader #allan red #allan red x reader

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dysfunctional-doodle · 5 months ago

Note

Hello. I hope I'm not bothering you, but I was wondering what's your personal headcanons on the Bayverse Turtles? I may have spelled headcanons wrong, so correct me if I am wrong.

(Dude I always spell headcanons wrong I got you)

Oooh hc time! Random stuff really, but:

Mikey has ADHD and Autism. I mention it very briefly in my tmnt chat fic, but I read a fanfic with this idea and it just fits so much for me. Especially the ADHD, which I think the creator of the movie confirmed somewhere anyway?

Donnie has chronic pain in his upper back/spine area, specifically where the shoulders are. To me, he just seems to have a more awkward, uneven build compared to his brothers - he is thinner and taller, yet his shell is still huge. So i kind of had this hc floating around. Idk if other people like it but eh. Cant be a nerd without a bad back I guess

Mikey and Donnie are definitely the younger brothers. Mikey being almost a full year after Donnie, and Donnie being about half a year after Raph and Leo (who are the same age)

Raph knits. Basically confirmed anyway. Specifically he learnt to knit after they were struck by a particularly harsh winter and needed blankets - Raph, being the only one that wasn’t too weak/in hibernation mode at the time, learnt how to knit to try and protect his family when he couldn’t fight the enemy with punches and kicks. He still knits blankets for them every year when the winter grows cold. They keep every one, so they have the comfiest beds

They share a room. 4 giant turtles crammed into one room with rickety bunk beds and hammocks is very funny to imagine

Leo loves romance movies. In particular the TV movie ones.

Leo had a similar attitude to Raph when he was a child until Splinter went missing for a few days whilst scavenging for food (he was fine in the end…mostly. A hasty escape from a warehouse caused him to injure his leg and be forced to hide until he could gain enough strength to return to his sons). When seeing his brothers grow hungry and scared over the few days he took charge, becoming much more of the Eldest Brother figure.

Mikey idolises Leo. He wants to be just like him one day. He thinks he’s the coolest. (It makes Leo’s comment about his head “always being in the clouds” hurt so much more)

Mikey gets a Klunk eventually, saved from being drowned. Her siblings were not as lucky (yes, I am very much writing a fic for this)

Donnie’s favourite pass time is computer science/programming/IT based activities, like how 2012 Donnie seems to enjoy chemistry the most and 2003 Donnie leans heavily towards engineering.

Leo loves house plants

Raph hates house plants

Donnie is blind as hell without his glasses and spent a lot of his younger years unable to see much. Once he could finally see he suddenly was given a world with endless possibilities and potential

Leo is terrible at technology. I’m talking 80 year old woman bad. He always clicks on scam ads and blows up computers. Something just doesn’t click with him and technology

They all have heavy turtle instincts due to them, like 2003, being just turtles rather than a mix of human dna. This causes them to have instincts and qualities turtles have such as retreating into their shells, brumating (at least partially), chirping, etc.

Donnie has a major sweet tooth

Raph can’t stand most sweet things

As kids, they would spend most their time looking at the human world and pretending they were with them.

Donnie is autistic, and has a lot of stims when he is happy that involve chittering and chirps.

Leo cheats at every video game/board game they play due to the eldest sibling advantage

Mikey loves to draw his own comics

Their Christmas hip hop album is fire

Raph is actually the cook, and is quite good at it. Mikey always burns things or they are undercooked because he’s too impatient, Donnie experiments and Leo blows everything up

That’s all for now!

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt asks #asks and replies #tmnt hc #tmnt headcanons

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lunarw0rks · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!!! Can you please do 141+ Alejandro with a black widow s/o who’s a super bamf 💗

All Bark, All Bite | 141 (+Ale)

Warning(s): canon-typical violence, strong language, established relationship, fem!reader, mil!reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I combined this w/ a similar request. they requested that reader is part of an all-female squad called "The Widows" so creds to that anon for a partial part in this request! Not proofread.

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? 𓆩♡𓆪 ask box

SYNOPSIS; if there were a side-by-side of you at work vs. at ease; the difference would be striking. You were with the best of the best, hand-picked to join The Widows five years ago, based solely on your battle smarts and physical durability.

You've retained dialects and languages after spending years doing covert ops around the world, as well as an array of fighting skills. The most significant thing you've accumulated? Your partner.

Dating in the same line of work, paths were bound to cross. Yet, seeing each other was both a blessing and a curse.

Price

When you limped up to the porch, the sight of the lights illuminating the inside made you both cringe and cheer at once. Time was precious when you both were home at the same time; though you were dreading the questions surrounding your appearance. You didn’t have time to wash off and instead went straight home after filling out your after-action reports.

John was in the sunroom with only a dim lamp on—forgetting once again to shut off the rest of the house lights. You weren’t in any mood to scold him, though, nor did you want to. In the least arrogant way possible; you were jaded from keeping the world safe. His gaze ascended from the paperwork resting on his lap, then scanning your striking appearance; in uniform and stained with crimson.

❝It’s not my blood, John.❞ You sighed, a look of both defeat and nonchalance—it was a conversation you two had many times before. This time, it really wasn��t your blood, except for a few measly scrapes and scratches.

He blinked a few times, as stunned as he was the first time he saw you after a daunting mission. ❝Is that supposed to make me feel better, sweetheart? Go shower off.❞ You couldn’t be aggrieved, it’s precisely what you would’ve told him to do. Besides, the last exchange you wanted to have right now was one about work.

John and you did that enough, probably to a fault—being that the two amplest workaholics found each other.

Simon

The work was daunting, sometimes downright depressing considering the things you’ve witnessed, and lived through firsthand. It wasn’t easy to get back out there, put on your bravest face, and work with skilled swiftness. Though your other half had conquered the art of appearing half-hearted—his mind was constantly buzzing with feelings, especially after getting involved with you.

Simon hated your guts, purely for making him fall in love with you. His co-workers either die in front of him, die apart from him, or go missing so long they might as well be dead. He couldn’t handle it, the prospect of getting a sit-rep declaring you had been KIA.

❝What’s on your mind?❞ The weight on the thin barrack mattress shifts as he sits beside you, eyes trained on your failed attempt at masking your gnawing thoughts. God, his observance was irritating at times—how you couldn’t conceal the slightest hitch in your persona.

In truth, it wasn’t any specific memory that was chipping at your psyche. It was… everything all at once. The constant reminder that you had to be a soldier—hardened, snappy, and with little emotion plaguing your every tactical decision. And your decisions? The pressure of choosing the option with the least amount of casualties—never was it a zero.

Unbeknownst to you, you were silently preaching to the choir. ❝It doesn’t matter. Can’t sit here and let feelings stop my day.❞

Simon reached across the cot, cupping each side of your face with a headstrong glare—one somehow sterner than his default frown. ❝With you, love, feelings do matter.❞ He shook you ever so slightly as if he was literally jerking some sense into you. Normally, he would agree and order the softie to keep going.

But you weren’t weak-kneed, nor did you let emotions affect your work.

You were the strongest soldier he knew, second to no one, not even himself. Your ability to feel so openly off the field was something Simon could only voicelessly yearn for. Something he didn’t want you to renounce, as he had years ago. What kind of relationship would it be, if you were both stoic robots trained to kill? It wouldn’t be one at all.

Soap

The two of you separate was enough to make any superior cringe, but together? It had them white-knuckling, all while assured that you two could get the job done clean. He was called Soap for a reason, and you—well, your squad had been picked for a reason. No one was privy to your relationship, and that’s how you both wanted to keep it, purely to not let a conflict of interest affect future ops.

Johnny had to bite the bullet and fight the urge to show you off, gush about you, telling very long and detail-heavy tales about how you two met, and how it was a rocky start. He was starstruck by your skills, and you were adamant about remaining tactical, nothing more.

Clearly, the stubbornness had budged, given the rule-bending involvement you two were in. ❝Ye sure you can handle the boom, lass?❞ Soap smirked, finger hovering over the button of the detonator. He was grasping at straws to rile you up because he knew you were both forced to work with him—and would come home to him that night.

For him, it was a win. For you? It was a persistent thorn in your side.

❝Press the damn button before I hurt you, Soldier.❞ You hissed, covering your ears to shield them from the explosion… or his pestering, it could be a mix of both. Soap grimaced as he signaled the boom, a deafening rumble in the distance, loud and close enough to make the building shake.

Once it passed, you scowled at the sight of his faux-dramatics. ❝It’s ‘soldier’ now, eh? Why not just shoot me, it would hurt less.❞ Soap retorted, taking one more glance at the ash falling in the distance—the result of his own pyro-artfulness.

Oh, how badly you wanted to tussle with him, then apologize to him with a kiss simultaneously. And he knew it too. Your toughness was an attractive quality, one that aroused him, even when you pressed a blade against his throat the first time you were stationed together.

Gaz

Your work with the 141 had gone off and on for some time now. You were glad to interact with Kyle but dreaded every mission together on the off-chance that something went horribly wrong. But that was the cost of your line of work—a sentiment you reminded yourself of nearly every day. The only thing you could do was do your job and find limited time to cherish with him.

It was your lucky day; you had time to visit.

Though you had told Price it was to visit with all of them, you only wanted to see Gaz. The others were great company, sure, but out of the field? They could be… both a complete mess, while being the most tightly-wound group you had worked with.

You made brief conversation with each member, a polite nod or greeting until the small talk became agonizing to get through. When you reached the end of the line, finding Kyle, your expression of professionalism became one of relief. After months of only communicating through comms or phone calls—you were finally face-to-face.

❝Shit, I should get going. Duty calls.❞ Your gaze diverted from Kyle to your phone, a precisely-timed interrupt you needed to tend to right that second. He understood entirely, and it only gave him an excuse to snake you into his bunk that night.

Without realizing it, you intertwined fingers with him for a few seconds, whispering a romantic farewell before parting ways with him. One of his entire Task Force witnessed with a slightly dumbfounded expression on their faces. You, high in the Widows’ chain of command, gone soft and holding hands with Gaz. Frankly, they were slightly intimidated by your skill, the way you always presented yourself in action.

To be flirting with Gaz, it was uncanny. And the headstrong Sergeant Garrick now plagued with an unavoidable flush? The snarky jokes wrote themselves.

Kyle’s eyes widened slightly as you walked away, a slow turn towards his co-workers, interrupting the inevitable comment slipping through their lips. ❝Not a word.❞

Alejandro

Your comms’ static was a constant reminder of the inevitable crisis arriving. Until an update finally came through after several minutes of pausing. Your allies were in need of sniper recon; not just any ally, either—Colonel Vargas was in need of sniper recon. Though you always made your best effort to remain tactical and move with purpose, this one was your purpose—the reason you fight to come home during each deployment.

You radioed back, signaling for the neighboring Widows to follow in your path. If something were to go wrong, Alejandro wouldn’t be left empty-handed, he would have your remaining soldiers to assist. Your squad moved swiftly, some sporting pistols, while the other half had their precision rifles at the ready. The rifle in your hands typically held little weight in your trained arms, but right now it only seemed to be restricting your snappy advancement towards the compound.

Perhaps it was the figurative weight of not getting there in time to relieve them. There was no time to interject personal affairs, however. It wasn’t just Alejandro that needed your assistance—it was his men, the allied soldiers, and most importantly, the innocents caught in the mix of this active warzone.

Your soldiers began to clean the house, allowing execute authority to eliminate any hostile forces. An order that was both the toughest yet quickest one you ever had made, given the circumstances you were plunged into. Behind the thick metal door, there was a blend of bellows in both English and Spanish—the Vaqueros deep in cover when you seized access.

By the time you got close enough, few enemies were left, thankfully. As you poked out of cover from your overwatch position on the skywalk, ready to make your presence known to them, an enemy had come into view.

One that is about to get the upper hand on Alejandro. It was moments like these where your heart stopped, as cliche as it sounded. All the years of training, fighting, hardship, death—it all needed to matter right now, or nothing would again.

You aimed down your sights, watching as the man you loved struggled against the hold. Your watchful eye observed the scuffle until Alejandro had moved out of the danger zone enough for you to get a disabling shot. Once you knew the bullet would be tactical and on the book, there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation.

The trigger was squeezed, a suppressed pop of the high-caliber bullet, then the limp splat of the man grappling Alejandro. His gaze skipped around the room, an instinctive point in the direction of the shot. You stored the precision rifle, jogging down the steps that led to the catwalk, until you approached the life you had just saved.

He let out an impressed chuckle at the sight of you, his savior. ❝Why am I not surprised, Cariño?❞ His eyes danced from you to the enemy that had him staring death in the face. Though he masked it with humor, his verbal gratitude would never make the cut. In the field and in his heart, you had yet to let him down.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months ago

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AITA for snapping at my friend? I have been friends with this person (who we'll call L) for a while, about 3 years now. After about a year and a half of being friends, I joined his DnD group, who he is the DM for. The group is made up of my and L's mutual friends, all of whom I knew before joining. L is neurodivergent (as am I), and his hyperfixation for the last few years has been DnD 5e lore and rules, and he's recently expanded to his own homebrew stuff as well. He talks a lot about the stuff he's interested in, and most of the time I'm happy to listen, especially since it's stuff I'm also interested in (at least to an extent). I'm currently going through some big changes in my life, possibly involving an overseas move, which I'm very excited about. I don't talk about it too much with L or my other friends unless they ask about it, since nothing is final yet. Well, a few days ago L and I were talking during a break we have together at uni, and while we were talking about some homebrew lore stuff for our upcoming campaign I got a fairly important email regarding my move, and I interrupted L to read the email. I thought I did it in as nice a way as I could've, saying something along the lines of "hang on a sec, [important thing] emailed me". Once I'd finished reading it, I was ready to go back to the conversation, but L looked at me very seriously and said "you really shouldn't interrupt people when they're talking". I was thrown way off guard and said "yeah but the [important thing] emailed me, I had to read it", and he said "but you shouldn't have interrupted me in the middle of my sentence", at which point I kinda said/yelled "don't tell me how to behave". He then said (mostly to himself) that he doesn't understand what he did wrong, and why I was mad at him. Things were quiet for a while and then we went back to talking about DnD. Neither of us have talked about this since, and based on the history of our friendship we probably won't. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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raayllum · 9 months ago

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We don't appreciate Soren's batshit evolving view of Rayla (and Rayllum enough) tbh.

Think about it: you're Soren. Your dad and sister tell you the princes you were sworn to protect got kidnapped by a Moonshadow elf (some of whom you just fought, killed, and watched your fellow crownguard be killed by). You never met her and never saw the encounter in the dungeons that Claudia did, so you have no reason to doubt this. Then your dad gives you a mission that curdles your stomach and you find yourself more than half hoping that elf has just killed the boys because that means you don't have to dirty your hands and have plausible deniability of your own and your dad's involvement in all of this.

Then you find the Moonshadow elf and she's young. Younger than you. Asleep; it feels wrong. But then it's a trick and she's got the momentary upper hand! She's talented. She's sarcastic(?) and pretty. She's dead meat—

Then Callum runs in, in front of your raised sword, and defends her. He says she's his friend. He says she's a good elf. (How can that be possible?) He says you have to learn to put aside your differences. Your brain is breaking. You assume nothing will change in the morning. And then the weirdest thing is that the elf has the same reaction to your sister and Callum flirting as you do, a big ugh. What's up with that?

You speculate about Moonshadow madness and lie about the king, and the elf gives you an Intense Look that, unfortunately, is not because she's hot and talented, but because she's suspicious. She looks after Ezran like he's her own little brother. When she tricks you guys, again, it's just her on the ground and the princes safely on the stupid moon bird.

Then you don't see her again until it's raining, and she's shown up seemingly of nowhere to save this dumb monstrous dragon. She can't cut the chains and she's outnumbered. An easy prize. Claudia tells you not to kill her because she might be useful. You haven't really made up your mind about it when—

Callum is there in the rain, following after her like a good loyal knight of his own. Callum does dark magic. You wonder if this was the plan all along or not, since the elf doesn't look happy about it. In her your periphery you see her run to him anyway once the dragon is freed. Then it smashes you into the rocks, and everything gets fuzzy.

You don't see her again until at least a week and a half later at the Storm Spire. Ezran calls for both of them (are they always a package deal) and they come running. They exchange wary looks as you give explanations. You can hear their voices, dimly, in the queen's antechamber while you play a game of chase with Ezran and the Dragon Prince. Callum looks to her when you ask to speak and she gives you an eye-roll of permission. Her name is Rayla. She thinks you're more than just a big dump lump (compliment). And maybe you wonder if she's a little more than a friend to Callum as she takes his hand and squeezes, watching Ezran fly off into the night. Maybe you don't.

But they're not holding hands when you find them the next morning so it's fine to interrupt, and you don't know for sure they're a thing until everything is said and done—until you learn that not only is Callum more than over your sister, he flung himself off the top of that tall tall mountain to catch Rayla without even knowing the spell would work.

It's intense and overwhelming to the point you might worry about it if she didn't also look at him like he hung the stars, holding hands in front of the Dragon Queen—on the way back home to Katolis. Ezran gives you pieces of whatever Callum's told him, that Rayla needs a new home. That she got banished.

Every time you're with her at the castle it's a group activity, like sparring or dinner. She doesn't open up easily, even if she's softer—more awkward. You learn that her people like dancing and not much else. Ez and Callum are both very protective of her, Callum especially. She sleeps in a lot. She seems lost. You come along to the Moon Nexus because your king is going, and when Rayla finally asks to talk with you one-on-one, it's because she's chasing answers about your father, and an elf you think she might consider family.

You help Callum and Allen rebuild the Moon Nexus. You don't know what it's for till she's under the water (you don't know that she's scared of water) and Callum is kneeling at the shoreline like he's going to lose his mind with every second that she doesn't surface. The weird Moon lady says your mind will be shattered, that you can be stuck there between life and death forever. Ezran helps Callum dive beneath the waves anyway. It's one of the longest hours of your life, waiting there—because Rayla was brave enough to do what you couldn't, in looking after the boys, and you still have so much to make up for with Callum (plus, Opeli will kill you if you don't come back with the crown prince).

Finally, as the sky begins ever so slightly to lighten, you help drag them out of the water. Callum embraces her—"I couldn't lose you"—like he's never going to let go. Rayla hugs him back just as tight before she kisses him sweetly. You think you'll have to try and entertain Ez tomorrow to give them some privacy, a bit, for Callum's birthday tomorrow.

Rayla is gone in the morning. You don't even hear about what happened from him; Ezran tells you, eyes rimmed in red. Gone without a trace in the middle of the night, leaving only a letter and promises of love behind.

Something bristles inside you; at least your mother had the decency to say goodbye.

Callum is miserable on the way back to Katolis. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat. He lasts three weeks before he gets angry, and you never knew his temper could be that bad. He goes off to Xadia to search guided by his wings, and brought back by the cold every few weeks or so, continually empty handed. Opeli grounds him (literally); his mood worsens as snow thickens.

You take the brunt of his anger without complaint, because you is also smirking and good with a sword and worried about Viren, and because Callum took the brunt of your projection and resentment and jealousy for years. You can handle a few months.

It is not just a few months. Callum gets worse, and then, slowly, after the first anniversary of her being gone, he gets better. It means less shouting, but also less of him—he spends more hours locked away in your father's old study, throwing more and more of himself into magic. You remind yourself that it's okay. It's just primal magic.

(Surely, Callum got rid of your father's old dark magic books. Why would he keep them?)

Another year passes. You're upset at Rayla for leaving, for how much she upset both the boys, for how miserable Callum has been. At the same time, you want her to return, not only for their happiness, but for your peace of mind, because if she does, it'll either be with her mission successful and your family vanquished for good, or because there was nothing to find. She might even have information about Claudia.

Then she does show up, and Callum can barely look at her. He brings the mirror to the Storm Spire. When he falls, Rayla catches him. When he retreats to the Pinnacle, she follows, and you interrupt. You protest in the Drakewood, because your father told you that you had to carry burdens alone and that never did anyone good, and Callum lays down distance that feels strange and exclusionary. When Rayla is standoffish amongst the trees, you critique her—over your younger brother figure, but also over the dragon. You don't know how she's become so changed (how she could leave the same way your mother did).

The next time you see her, she's radiantly happy you're alive and gone just as quickly. Then Callum pulls her from the rubble after one heart wrenching moment, because Callum when she was just gone was rough enough, but a Callum when she's dead is awful to imagine, and—

You watch him forgive her in every way that matters. He stays with her at the castle even as you go off with Ezran and Corvus to do important dragon stuff, and holds her hand as they climb out of the water. He gets madder than you've ever seen him when Finnegrin torments her. You watch him do the impossible first hand to save her life.

You watch him offer to get out of the water, to delay the mission, when she's too scared to. (You didn't even know she was scared of water.) You embrace both of them when everything is said and done, once Callum has nearly fallen over in his haste to just hold her hand.

You still, at the end of the day, don't know Rayla that well—bits and pieces to construct a fragmented but real view of someone who's bold and beautiful and brave and kind, but snarky and judgemental and prone to leaving, too. Balanced, even if it's not deep.

But Callum's love for her? It's as deep as the ocean, and that's kinda what matters most.

#sorayla #katolis boys #this is my roman empire #text post #mine #this got away from me but listen #soren's last interaction with rayla loosely being callum (awkwardly) turning her down #immediately like 2.5 days Max later being #callum weeping and hugging her and probably treating her exactly how he does in 5x01 #IMMEDIATELY post 4x09 is. too funny to pass up #soren's emotional whiplash im a believer

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ofyoursilentreverie · 23 days ago

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i was listening to @thefoxholecast 's third episode, and they were talking about kevin's injury and whether it was realistic for him to come back from - i ended up sending them an ask with stuff about soccer injuries but i think i've thought of a better analogy.

i'm assuming exy is played with both hands like lacrosse (although it's never really mentioned in the series) but i would imagine that, like lacrosse, one hand is more of a stabilizing and supporting hand while the other gives a lot of the power and aim - with that in mind, and knowing that lacrosse is probably the best analogy but unfortunately i never played outside of gym class so i can't really speak to it, i'm thinking of fencing - a sport that also involves a lot of wrist movement from one arm. i had a teammate who injured her right shoulder and fenced left-handed for the year that it was healing, idk of anyone at a super high level who's done it, but it's definitely possible to relearn with your non-dominant hand. and once her shoulder was healed, she slowly started using it again and is back to fencing right-handed. i also know of a lot of serious injuries like acl tears that take roughly a year to a year and a half to recover from. his recovery timeline is a little fast based on how severe they make his injury sound, but he doesn't start using his left hand again until after the winter banquet, which would be right around a year after he first injured it, which i can accept as fairly reasonable, especially because it doesn't seem like exy uses a ton of fine motor skills so his hand probably didn't need to be completely like it used to be in order for him to play exy with it

i think a slightly less realistic injury would be neil's shoulder - he frequently dislocates it (which is realistic, once you do it once you're more likely to do it again), but he hops right back into contact without any rest time. every teammate i've had who's dislocated a shoulder has had to sit out from contact for at least a couple weeks, and most of them ended up getting surgery on their shoulder (i can't speak to the specifics cause i've luckily never done it myself but they were certainly not jumping into practice the next day). i know a lot of his injuries throughout the series are superficial - bruises, cuts, etc - but even something like a sprain can put someone out for weeks depending on the severity of it. coming back from baltimore should have been more than a week and a half long recovery. so in my mind, kevin's injury and recovery timeline actually makes a lot more sense than neil's throughout the series, and i understand that it's cause nora sakavic needed to keep the plot moving and the foxes really didn't have any subs to take neil's place, but his injuries are more severe than his recovery times would indicate, and it's one of the things that pulled me out of the series the most when i was reading it for the first time

#i was trying to go to sleep and this popped into my mind #sorry for the long post #aftg #neil josten #kevin day #all for the game #text post

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lostloveletters · 7 months ago

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Jesus or Gasoline (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Woody isn't sure what she believes in, except for the way John Brady makes her feel.

Note: Here it is, the result of my making a ‘guy who says grace before giving head’ joke about Brady. I wanna give a million thanks to all the Woody/Brady babes out there because y'all's support and enthusiasm for them means the world to me! As usual I listened to a lot of Bruce Springsteen while writing this. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical inaccuracies. This goes into Woody’s not so great childhood/young adulthood and her generally negative internalized thoughts surrounding religion. Sexually explicit content involving oral sex (f. receiving) and coming in pants.

The field behind the hangar was a questionable date spot at best, but Woody figured it was better than nothing. Secluded enough with some lighting as to not be stumbling around in the dark, but without fear of being easily identified if they got caught before they could make a break for it if needed.

Word of the late night rendezvous had come from Holly, barely able to contain her excitement at being the messenger. “Your beau wanted me to tell you to meet him tonight,” she whispered, giggling as she added, “said you’d know where.”

Woody had given Holly all of the details the night John Brady kissed her, her best friend in ecstatic disbelief that so much had happened while she and Bucky were listening to a baseball game across the way. Holly took girl code as a sacred oath, not mentioning Woody and Brady’s relationship to a soul in the week or so that had passed. John wasn’t exactly pleased when Woody let him know that she told Holly, but he supposed if Woody trusted Holly that much, he could, too.

“There you are, sweetheart,” John said, with a genuine fondness that she almost couldn’t believe was directed toward her. “Have you been waiting long?”

She shook her head, greeting him with a kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“I brought you something,” he said, pulling a Hershey bar from his pocket.

“Don’t waste that on me, are you kidding?”

“Holly told me you give the village kids whatever candy you get, and I know ground crew doesn’t get as much in your rations as we do.”

Good ol’ Holly. “They appreciate it more than me.”

He looked at her pointedly, though eyes glistened in amusement as he half-scolded, “Don’t reject a gift, sweetheart. It’s bad manners.”

Woody fought back a smile, felt her cheeks heating up . “Thank you, Johnny. You’re real sweet.” Gave him a kiss on the cheek and squeezed his forearm. “Can we at least split it?”

“I won’t say no to that.”

The grass was damp from the late afternoon rain. She was glad she thought to grab an old blanket, worn out and smelled faintly of fuel, but it’d do.

He split the bar in two, handing the bigger half to her. She took a bite, surprised to find herself feeling a wistful melancholy for the states at the taste of it. Wasn’t sure she ever felt homesick before, but there was a first time for everything. Like John laying out on the blanket, resting his head in her lap.

“Comfortable?” she asked with a laugh.

“Great view from here.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You know, I’ve been dying to ask you this ever since I met you,” he began, giving her pause at the seemingly endless possible questions he could hit her with. “Do you really like being called ‘Woody’?”

She nodded, stroking his hair, taking in how relaxed he looked. “Yeah, I really do. It’s been nice to leave ‘Kate’ behind and start fresh.”

“So your first name is just Kate?”

“Shows you how much thought my parents put into it.”

“See, I wanna know more about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“We talk a good deal, but I don’t know much about your life before all of this.”

“I don’t have anything nostalgic or good to tell you, especially not about me. I’m ashamed of who I was before. I’m trying to be better, John. I really am. I don’t—I don’t hang around people who have nothing going for them.”

People like how she used to be. The backstreets burst at the seams with them. Children of neglect, of the Depression, of something wild otherwise running through their veins. They made their homes where they could. Guys who rode around on streaks of lightning, spewing pure gasoline from snarled lips on each of those hilly avenues until they were wrangled in the back of cherry-topped police cars. Girls who should’ve known better drank empty promises out of broken glasses, handed to them by the constantly circling shark-men. Kate learned quickly not to get attached to anyone. They looked out for each other, but they weren’t friends. There was a difference.

“I got an older brother named Tom. Last I heard he was in jail for holding up a liquor store,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since I was eleven, though. That’s when I really started looking after myself.”

“Eleven is pretty young to be on your own,” he said, taking her hand from his hair and holding it in his own, intertwining their fingers.

“What were you doing when you were eleven?”

He shrugged. “Rode bikes around with my friends. Started learning saxophone. I was an altar boy, too.”

“So your family went to mass a lot when you were growing up?”

“Every Sunday that we could. I remember my mom waking us up to go even when we had to walk through a foot of snow to get there because the roads hadn't been cleared yet,” he said, his voice growing softer as he spoke. “Doesn’t seem all that bad, now. Maybe it—it helped some.”

Woody had seen John make the sign of the cross dozens of times. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Remembered the first time she watched him among the other Catholic guys in the 100th, crowded around the chaplain for his makeshift blessing on the tarmac before their missions. Devotion ran exceptionally high then, men suddenly armed with a rainbow of beaded rosaries and holy cards adorned with saints whose weary eyes gazed upward, where those men were soon to be. Their heads bowed in silent contemplation as the priest concluded in Latin, John’s mouth moving along with sed libera nos a malo. But deliver us from evil.

A handsome face like his deserved half a dozen kids with names like Mary and Francis who filed neatly into a pew with their shiny patent shoes and a big family meal to look forward to after mass. Kids who gave the likes of her odd looks when she shuffled into church for whatever lunch the nuns were dishing out that afternoon. Always dressed in her Sunday worst—ill-fitting blouses and holey shoes until she ditched their charity and decided she was better off raising hell in denim jeans. God loved everyone, and his love was unconditional, but no one wanted to say he loved some people more than others, and Kate was pretty low on his list.

After all, Kate Woodward was born without a middle name on a Wednesday morning that even god himself forgot about. Didn’t know what the weather had been like the first time she breathed in the air of her home city, but she was sure it felt like a kick in the chest. Probably why babies cried when they made their grand escape from the womb.

Hardly raised in the first place, Kate had little faith in god or man, just in the machines she could bend to her will until they gave her freedom to go wherever she pleased. But her freedom had gnashing teeth and a forked tongue that were never satisfied, no matter how many vices she fed it, and she was nothing short of gluttonous in this endeavor.

Tried and true, the one she had the hardest time shaking—sticky fingers. If Kate saw something she liked, she took it. From drug store shelves to purses to wallets, nothing was off limits. As time went on, her spoils only got bigger and better, linking up with people who taught her how to steal cars like riding a bike. She had yet to find a replacement for that particular thrill, but her self-control had markedly improved in a little over two years.

Then there were men with hacksaw smiles that threatened to cut her open if she got as close as they wanted her to. Thunderous voices that cracked with rage when she’d shove the smoldering cherry tip of her cigarette into a hand that got too close for comfort. None of them were any good, not like the man with his head in her lap, who brought her chocolate rations and listened intently to her, even as her voice shook with trepidation at bearing so much of her heart.

Woody hummed, her fingers trembling as she traced the features on his face—his expressive brows, the nose that gave him a profile she could hardly tear her eyes from, lips she dreamed about since the night he first kissed her and every time since. Besides the power of a well-maintained engine, she believed in the way she felt about John.

“I was lonely and angry,” she murmured after relaying her patchwork of regrets and fears to him. “I made a lot of mistakes because of that. It’s not an excuse. But I wanna be honest with you so you can still change your mind about me if you want to. I understand if you do.”

“There’s nothing to change my mind about, sweetheart. I want to be with you,” he said, conviction strong in his voice as he sat up.

“I’m not a virgin,” she stressed.

He shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would’ve been surprised if you were.”

“Well, I didn’t love any of them—four guys in total, mind you—and it’s not like I got anything out of it, either.” She sighed. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Crushes were for girls who lived in nice houses and wrote hearts above their i’s. Desire ran hot, expressed in glances made with hooded lids beneath buzzing neon lights that left a thousand things unsaid. But after that handful of physically underwhelming experiences which ended up being far more trouble than they were worth, she came to the conclusion that she was better suited to get her own rocks off.

“Got what out of it?” he asked.

She chewed on her lip. The only sin out there was getting caught, and Kate Woodward never got caught. Woody chose to confess. “I had to get to the good part myself.”

“That’s unacceptable.”

Her heart sank. “I haven’t done it in—“

“Those selfish bastards never made you come?”

“Not one.”

“In that case, I’d be glad to be your first.”

“I want you to be,” she said, leaning back on her hands in the dewey grass, spreading her coverall-clad legs apart. “I wanna do everything with you.”

He placed his hand on her thigh, his fingers playing with the inner hem of her coveralls. “Tell me how you want it, sweetheart.”

“I want your mouth.” Truthfully, she’d never had a guy go down on her before. Heard about it from other girls, wild ones out in the desert. A few others as she got to know the first group of WAAC girls she bunked with after enlisting. Even from Holly, as apparently Stan had been generous and enthusiastic about that aspect of their sex life. Stan, Stan, what a man, the girls would tease about Holly’s fiance before he was dearly departed.

The corners of John’s lips twitched up as he brought his fingers further along the hem, inching closer to her covered sex. “Never had a girl ask me to do that before.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

She hesitated, averting her eyes from him. “A lot of guys think it’s gross.”

“I think I should decide for myself, don’t you?” He cupped her chin, caressing her jaw with his thumb. “Look at me, sweetheart. What do you want me to do?”

Upon returning her gaze to his, she found no judgment behind his eyes, but a passionate sincerity.

“I want you to go down on me,” she said.

She studied him as he watched her. His pretty lips parted slightly, drinking her in as more of her body was exposed. It wasn’t a strip tease, nothing sexy about the way she pulled her arms out from the sleeves and yanked her coveralls down to her knees, finally kicking them to her ankles and off entirely. Sat before him in her white t-shirt, plain underwear, and boots, almost boyish if not for her breasts, low on her chest, nipples poking through the fabric.

“Are you wearing a bra?” He sounded breathless, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was even asking.

“No,” she said, her lips curving into a smile, letting him in on another secret. “I always take it off at the end of the day. Don’t tell anyone.”

As if the other girls didn’t know, with some degree of judgment along with their understanding that the damn thing got uncomfortable, could chafe with all the work they were doing, the sweat and friction. It wasn’t like anyone could really tell beneath the other layers, anyway. But anyone meant anyone of the male persuasion, and with that, John dutifully shook his head.

His lips were on hers in an instant, a hand on her waist, the other shoved up her shirt, squeezing her breasts. She gasped at the way his rough palm felt against her nipple, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue in her mouth. Her moans were lost to the world, claimed by him and him alone. He straddled her lap, keeping her in place beneath him.

John moved his hand from her waist to between her legs, rubbing her already wet pussy through her underwear. Her lips were undoubtedly swollen from the ferocity with which he kissed her. A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the thought of how it’d feel against her cunt.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them off of her. Bringing up her knees, she felt a burst of adrenaline rush through her at being so exposed to him.

“You need to tell me how I’m doing, alright? I wanna make sure you feel good,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” she mumbled, almost dizzy with desire as he lowered his face between her legs.

His hot breath on her cunt, lips brushing against her folds. She strained to hear… whispering?

“Johnny?” she asked after a few moments of aching anticipation. “Baby, if you don’t wanna— Jesus Christ,” she choked out. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the rest of them.

His tongue lapped at her clit, eyes looking up at her for approval. With a shaky nod, she bid him to continue, biting her lip as to stifle the whine that threatened to escape her mouth. A noble attempt, but fruitless when he licked up her pussy with the flat of his tongue, pulling a moan from deep in her chest. Her heart was beating between her legs.

Woody could make herself feel pretty damn good on her own. She lifted a dirty magazine from a guy in Reno once. Had pictures and everything, though she wasn’t sure how real it all was. She’d look at the pictures, tongue between her lips and hand between her thighs as she imagined herself in those women’s places, feeling the ecstasy written all over their expressive faces with their typically faceless partners. From there, she’d get creative, allowing her mind to conjure up a man who, behind her closed eyes, could bring her to orgasm. Even in her wildest fantasies, she never thought she’d find one who’d actually want to bury his face in her pussy.

Fuck, if she couldn’t feel John’s fingers digging into her thighs, she would’ve almost thought she was dreaming. She grabbed his hair, pressing his face harder against her cunt. He was giving so much, and she’d take all of it, greedy with the pleasure he offered her.

He slid two fingers inside her pussy, slowly enough to see how she’d take it before pumping them in and out at a quicker pace. Used his other hand to hold her down when her hips jerked up in his face, like her muscles had a mind of their own, hellbent on reaching an orgasm. Hell, so was she.

“Just like that— fuck,” she rasped, her nails scraping against his scalp.

She nearly wanted to ask if he’d been lying, if he had gone down on a girl before. He at least had enough experience to know where her fucking clit was, but his mouth. Jesus, how could he expect her to go to the officer’s club and watch him play saxophone after this? As if she wouldn’t be sitting there, skin feverish, thighs pressed together, thinking about his mouth and his fingers in that moment. The way his teeth grazed against her clit, making her pussy clench around his fingers. The way it almost felt like he was making out with her cunt. Their eyes would meet, and he’d know, maybe have a little smirk on his face up there, too. An obscene secret privately shared amidst dozens of other people who’d be none the wiser.

“Don’t stop,” She was so close it almost hurt, wound up tight and pulsing in her gut, waiting to be released. “Please don’t stop.” Hot tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Her chest felt like it was on the verge of bursting open. Between a fistful of grass and a hand buried in his hair, she cried out his name like a vulgar prayer in the night as her orgasm rocked through her.

A universe of stars burst across her abdomen, white-hot supernova tearing through her muscles, blinding her from anything but the pleasure that pulsed from her pussy. She finally came down from it, covered in sweat, chest heaving, a wild-eyed woman as John pushed himself back up on unsteady arms.

She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer so he was straddling her lap. Took in his mussed up hair and the way his lips glistened with the traces of her still on them. She kissed him, a muffled moan in her throat at the taste of herself on this tongue.

She wanted him. More of him. Everything he had to give. Wasn’t sure it’d be enough to sate her need, but damn if she couldn’t try.

“Johnny, can’t we just do it?” she pleaded, her voice a girlish whine that sounded otherwise foreign coming from her as she desperately pawed at him.

“Next time,” he whispered. “Next time, sweetheart, I promise.” Grazed his teeth against her hummingbird pulse. “I didn’t bring a condom.”

“But what about you?” she pressed, reaching for his crotch. “You must be—“

He shook his head, cheeks flushed as he licked his lips. “I got carried away, sweetheart. I, uh—I’m good.”

She slipped her hand down his pants, feeling the sticky evidence of his orgasm for herself. Her fingertips brushed the sensitive head of his spent cock, sending a shiver down his spine. Was he good, though? He groaned. No wonder Douglass kept so many goddamn rubbers in his footlocker.

“Next time,” he repeated, voice strained and husky in a horrific display of self-control. He nearly regretted it when she pulled her hand away, feeling something sinful stir in his gut as she inspected her hand, finally bringing it to her mouth and licking the residue off her knuckles with a feline-esque curl of her tongue.

“Just say the word, Johnny. Whenever you want me to return the favor, I’ll drop everything for you.”

He swallowed roughly. She meant it.

#john brady x oc #john brady #john brady x ofc #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #mota x oc #mota #mota fanfic #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #ch: woody #so basically i got carried away

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