#but I think just doing her solo was faster to draw

[magicalcraftgirl]

I want pumpkin pie cookie to get a christmas outfit that would be absolutely adorable 😭😭❤️

[thewulf]

Crash and Burn || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request! Y/N and Jake have a very… chaotic relationship. Many ups and downs between the two Naval Aviators. One moment they’re fine the next they are at each other’s throats. Everything goes wrong for the duo in training when Y/N catches Jake’s jet wash as he tries to show off for Maverick. Hurt/Comfort. Readers call sign is Jinx.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4,000+

Arrogant. Cocky. Selfish.

Just a few words to describe your least favorite classmate, Hangman. He had mastered the art of getting underneath your skin. Phoenix always told you to play it cool around him or he’d just keep doing the same. You never learned your lesson always arguing back when he had to say some stupid misogynistic thing about female pilots. You had to hand it to Phoenix though, she never let Hangman work her up.

You hadn’t known him prior to Top Gun like your other classmates had. They gave you a forewarning when it came to Jake. Watch your back or he’d be the one shooting at it. You didn’t believe it at first, but you learned.

Quickly, you understood their warnings toward him. The world revolved around Jake Seresin to Jake Seresin. You dreaded when Mav called your name to go up in the air with him. You had yet to have any sort of success when you flew with Hangman. It always ended up in one or both of you being taken down by Mav. Jake never communicated with you always throwing you off your game. He was so good at making you feel less than.

Today was no different. You heard your name paired with Hangman’s drawing a subtle sigh out of your mouth. You let your head rest against your palm as you thought over your options. You didn’t have a back seater today. Fritz called in sick with the flu leaving you flying solo, something you rarely did. You could beg Mav to switch the teams up or you could deal with it. You opted for the first option.

Heaving your body out of your desk you slowly made your way to your teacher while the rest of the class went to the locker rooms. You really didn’t think you had it in you to deal with Jake today. Not sleeping well the previous night due to getting into a heated argument with an ex-boyfriend all your energy was zapped. Certainly not a good combination to be taking an F-18 up in.

“Mav,” You paused waiting for him to look up to you, continuing only when you had his attention, “Fritz is sick today. Don’t you think another team should go up with Hangman?”

He shook his head looking down at whatever he was working on, “No, Jinx.”

“But I don’t have a wizzo.” You frowned knowing it really didn’t make a damn difference today. You were just running the first half of the course. You didn’t really need Fritz until it was time to train to drop the bomb.

He shrugged, “You’ll fly without a back seater today. Understood?”

Letting out another small huff of annoyance you nodded, “Yes sir.”

“Good, now go get ready. You and Seresin are up first.”

“Course we are.” You nodded leaving the classroom slowly to go get changed. You’d been lucky to avoid being teamed up with him the last few training sessions, but your luck seemed to end today.

Jake was interesting to you. You certainly didn’t hate the man, but he made it so hard to actually enjoy his presence. He always had that stupid cocky grin on his face like nothing could knock it off. You had only seen him slip up with Rooster once other than that he was his usual arrogant self.

Changing quickly, you knew the faster you were up in the air the faster your session would be with Hangman. Exiting the women’s locker room, you made your way to your jet. Going through the pre-flight checklist thoroughly you didn’t hear your teammate approach you.

“Going to be able to keep up today, Jinx?” Jake leaned his frame against your jet taking a full look of you. A soft smile formed when he saw just how focused you were on your task at hand, hardly paying him any attention. He’d never admit it, but he lived for moments like this with you. Moments where he could study you without the world knowing just what he was doing.

He met you at the Hard Deck the night before Top Gun. You seemingly knew Phoenix and Rooster from a previous deployment. You quickly grabbed Jake’s attention with that pretty smile and angelic laugh. Jake swore he could hear your giggle across the bar. A sound so pretty he’d never dare to admit it to anybody.

He grabbed your attention in any way that he could. Even if it meant being the bad guy in your reality. At least you were paying him the attention he craved from you. Quickly, he found what pressed your buttons and made sure to press them whenever he could. Just to get into a debate with you. He loved it. He adored you.

Looking up at the interruption you kept the level head on your shoulders. Trying to do what Phoenix did so gracefully, “Can you just fly the mission? Not pull your usual bullshit Seresin?”

Placing a hand on his chest he feigned hurt, “I’m wounded Jinxie.”

Ignoring him you continued, “Can you? For once.”

Smirking he started sauntering off, like he owned the damn air strip, “Doubtful darling. Gotta be fast.” He threw you a wink before disappearing into his jet.

Rolling your eyes, you tried not to let him get the best of you. It was typical Hangman behavior. One that you would never be able to crack it seemed. You thought maybe you’d be able to in the beginning. You should’ve just listened to Rooster and Phoenix instead of trying with him. All it ended in was arguments every single time you tried to have a normal conversation with the man. You couldn’t lie though, there was something so damn appealing about Jake Seresin that kept you crawling back for more.

Signing off on your paperwork you hopped into your jet. Placing your helmet on you smiled as you took in the front dash. You just loved this. It never ceased to amaze you just how lucky you were. You were able to fly jets across the world. Meeting new people and finding new cultures never got old to you. And you got to fly around on top of it all? You loved every single second of your Naval career. Not having a single regret about all of your adventures.

Taxing onto the runway you waited behind Hangman as he got the all clear. He was Dagger One in this scenario, and you were Dagger Two. Thankfully, all you had to do was keep up with him and not have him on your ass chirping you every five seconds. You hated flying as Dagger One with Hangman as your wingman. It felt like your heart would burst from the sheer stress of trying to deal with him.

You got the all clear taking off finding Hangman in the straightaway. You accelerated already noticing how fast he was moving before you even begun the timed trial. Mav raced in beside the two keeping an eye out, “Two minutes fifteen seconds until target. Time begins when Hangman clocks it. Good luck.” Mav flew off above watching the duo from his eagle eye view.

“Ready Jinx?”

You were honestly surprised he gave you any warning before he took off, “Ready when you are Hangman.”

“Let’s turn and burn baby.” You heard the clock begin. Locking your eyes onto the back of Hangman’s jet you decided he wouldn’t be getting away from you that easily this time.

You kept up for the first thirty seconds before he punched it even further, “Hangman you’re going to fast!” You yelled into your mask trying to accelerate yourself. You started losing him as he only punched it even further.

“You’re not going fast enough!” He countered.

Your eyes lowered knowing he wasn’t going to let up so you sped up as much as your comfort level would allow you, which still wasn’t fast enough, “Hangman slow down!” You began pleading with the asshole pilot.

“Speed up Y/N!”

He never used your real name. He was challenging you. Sighing to yourself you kicked it up a notch not feeling all that great with your speed and closeness to the ground, “I can’t keep up!”

You heard him audibly groan into the comms, “Jesus Jinx, fine.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as his jet dropped speed suddenly. You knew you didn’t have enough time to slow down, or you’d plow right into the back of him. Decelerating at the same time you dipped slightly to avoid crashing right into him, “Shit, Jake what the fuck was that?”

“You said to slow down so I did.” You could practically hear the cockiness lace his voice from a mile away.

“Not like that you fucking asshole.” You sighed this time feeling your heart rate go down a bit. You’d had many close encounters in the jet but nothing like that.

“Hey Jinxie. Calm down.”

“Jesus,” You grumbled positioning your jet back up behind his, “Just go Seresin.”

You weren’t sure what happened but one second you were fine the next your right engine was out and your left one started sputtering, “Fuck.” Internally cursing you didn’t have a back seater to help you talk yourself through the next few minutes. Thankfully your training kicked in.

“Right engine out. No Fire. Restarting. Left engine compromised.” Calmly you spoke into your mask.

“Jinx?” You heard Mav’s voice come in.

“Jinxie what’s wrong?” Hangman’s voice chimed in right after Mavericks. He failed to see you behind him as he sped back up.

Desperately you hit the right combination of buttons, but nothing seemed to feed the engine the fuel it needed. “Shit. Not responding. Climbing to 5,000.” You pulled you plane into the climbing position trying to buy yourself some time.

“Jinx. What’s going on?” Mav sounded concerned.

As you were in the middle of pulling up your heart sank hearing another alarm go off, “Oh shit. Left engine out. No fire. Attempting restart.” You managed to stagger out. Again, you attempted to refuel and refire the engine

Mav came down to your level eyes wide seeing neither of your engines burning, “Jinx eject!” He sounded a bit panicked you noted.

Your training was kicking in though. You had maybe five seconds to try again. After that you’d have to eject or you’d be toast, literally.

“Restarting right and left engine.” Ignoring Mav’s orders, you punched and prayed the engines would respond.

“Jinx eject now!” Maverick commanded you.

“Fuck! Eject Jinxie! Now” You didn’t see Hangman come back around surveying the situation he believed he put you into.

No sign of life from your jet really caused your heart to sink knowing you really only had one option now. Your heart started racing seeing how low to the ground you already were, 2,000 fucking feet. This was going to hurt, “Fuck, ejecting.” You pulled the handle from underneath your seat sending you into the air.

The next thirty seconds felt like a blur as you were free-falling in the air. Your parachute worked it was just terribly disorienting. You’d trained for this but had never had to do it in the field. Shuddering, you heard your jet crash into the desert below. This wasn’t going to be very easy to explain to the admiral.

You knew you were far too low to the ground when you were in the jet to make a graceful landing. You just didn’t expect how bad it would actually hurt once you hit the rocks of the desert below you. You hit the ground hard and fast, the parachute not having the proper amount feet to descend to really break your fall.

Rolling to a stop as the back of your head hit a boulder immediately you knew something wasn’t right. Hardly being able to keep your eyes open you attempted to stand up only falling right back into the same spot you rolled into, “Fuck.” You groaned closing your eyes feeling terribly weak.

You didn’t see any blood on your chest or legs which was a very good sign, but you just couldn’t keep your eyes open. The only way you seemed to stay coherent after cracking your head against the bolder was fluttering your eyes.

Hearing the faint mumbles of Mav and Hangman you couldn’t really make them out. You tried to stand again but miserably failed as your legs shook far too violently to stand on their own. A small tear fell down your face as the feeling of utter defeat began to take over. You had never experienced your body giving out on you so dramatically before. It was humbling when you couldn’t even stand on your own two feet.

Trying to keep your eyes open you focused on the words coming through your comms. You faintly heard Maverick, “Jinx, please copy.”

Before your eyes completely gave out on you, you heard another soft, “Jinxie please!” Sounding awfully familiar to Hangman’s usually annoying voice.

Opening your mouth, you so desperately wanted to let them know you were alive. You were okay. But you just couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“Mav, I didn’t see a parachute, did you?” Shit, they thought you were dead? You were risky but not risky enough to kill yourself.

“I think I did. Fuck. Jinx, please copy.” He tried you one more time a little beside himself. He’d witnessed the entire accident in horrifying detail taking him right back to his own accident from years prior. You pulled your plane up just as Hangman punched it immediately shutting your right engine down and compromising the left with the wash he left behind. He’d seen it several times out in the field but nothing that bad since his own accident.

Frustrated that you couldn’t communicate with your teammates you began to cry more opting you to slide the helmet right off your head to get some fresh air. Feeling a warm trickle down the back of your neck you hesitantly turned your helmet over revealing a rather large crack near the base of it. This was a very bad sign.

Slowly you placed a hand to the back of your skull slightly horrified at the red blood that coated your hand entirely. Fuck. You knew this wasn’t good at all. Trying to stay conscious you unzipped a pant leg off your flight suit planning to use that as a cloth to apply pressure to your head wound.

With all your strength you had left you leaned your head against the boulder placing the piece of flight suit in between praying you had enough pressure to keep you awake while you waited for rescue. Realistically you knew you only had to wait a few minutes before a team of medics were on the way. They were probably already halfway to you. All you had to do now was keep your eyes open. You could do that.

Grabbing your helmet, you decided to listen to the air chatter knowing at the very least it’d keep you focused on something rather than falling into unconsciousness. It pained you to hear the desperate plea’s from not only Hangman and Mav but command as well. It seemed as if everybody was trying to get you to respond.

Again, you attempted to speak only to be met with the utter silence of nothing coming out. It’s like the rock knocked your ability to speak right out of your own head. It was a rather gut-wrenching feeling to not be able to say a word. Just to let them know that you were okay. But you couldn’t. Your body simply refused.

Another few minutes passed which felt like hours as you sat there in the beating sun. Just as you were about to give into the darkness you heard the helicopter above you. Looking over a few vehicles approached in the distance. A small smile flickered on your face knowing they finally made it to you.

Before you knew it a few medics approached you quickly triaging the situation. They realized how incoherent you really were as you tried responding to their questions but couldn’t seem to talk.

“Hey Jinx. We’re going to patch you up alright?” A familiar face leaned down brushing the hair out of your face, “Just try and stay awake, okay?” It clicked that it was your team’s physician. He knew you very well taking your vitals and stats all the time.

“Let them know we’ve got her. Critical care.” You heard him say before placing something cold around your neck.

“You’re going to be alright. We’re taking you to the base hospital.” He smiled softly at you before he gave the next round of orders to his team.

The next while was a blur of you floating in and out of consciousness mixed with tons of people asking you too many questions. None of which you could answer as your voice was still missing.

Finally, you were able to sleep given the okay from a worried looking doctor you’d never seen before. You couldn’t seem to care as unconsciousness swallowed you whole.

The faint beeping brought you out of the deep slumber you were in. Rolling your head to the side you spotted Hangman sleeping in the chair next to your bed. Initial confusion rolled over you and you unfortunately heard the beeping pick up pace rapidly.

The change in background noise brought Hangman out of the light sleep he was in. He had been waiting on you for the last twelve hours or so. Refusing to leave your side until he knew that you were okay.

The initial prognosis given to them wasn’t great. The medics noted you as delirious, out of it, non-responsive before you went out completely. It worried him beyond belief. Especially knowing it was likely his actions that got you here. Mav kept trying to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, but you got caught up in his jet wash. Just like Mav did all those years ago. It’s a freak occurrence and 99% of the time jets handle it fine. You were just one of the unlucky ones.

He looked over to you seeing your panicked expression. His face softened as he realized how much this must be for you, “Hey Jinx. You’re in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

You felt some sense of relief knowing he was real. Sitting right there. You weren’t dreaming. You were back to the land of the living. You nodded recalling having to eject from your jet. You don’t remember much after that though.

“Can you speak?” He scooted the chair closer, so he was right up on the bed, right next to you.

“Yeah.” You managed to croak out. Your throat was feeling rather dry. Likely from all the sand and dirt you inhaled out there.

Grinning at the sound of your voice he grabbed your hand, “Good, let me go get a doctor.” He began to stand up before you stopped him by grabbing at his hand like he just did yours.

“No!”

He paused cocking his head to the side studying you curiously, “Just give me a minute. They’re going to ask a lot of questions and…” You paused not sure if he was even listening. This was Hangman after all. To your utter surprise he had his eyes locked on you, soaking up your every word. You decided to continue, “My head really hurts. I don’t want to talk to them just yet.”

Sighing Hangman looked all too conflicted. What was five minutes anyway? On the other hand, if your head really hurt you that bad why didn’t you want to see a doctor? Didn’t you want the help? Opting to go with your wishes he sat back down making a note of the time, he wasn’t going to give you more than the five minutes you requested.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly seeing him sit there against his better judgement.

“Sure. Are you alright at least?”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath in, “I’m okay. I just don’t feel great.”

“You scared us up there. You scared me.” He admitted whispering it almost so you couldn’t here.

Mustering a small halfhearted laugh, “Like you really care Seresin.” His face dropped immediately after your comment. Meaning it in more of a joking manner you didn’t think he’d take you so seriously.

“Why would you say that? Of course, I care Y/N.”

“One less pilot you have to deal with.” You kept trying to joke with him, but he wasn’t letting you. Taking it far more seriously than you were.

Shaking his head he grabbed your hand, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

He groaned. Frustrated that he wasn’t so great at showing real emotion, “Acting like I don’t care. I do care. A lot.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” It slipped out way faster than intended. You didn’t want to make him feel like a total asshole, but your concussed brain had other ideas.

Head down Jake sighed, “I’m sorry Jinxie. I really am. I never would have thought… I wouldn’t have done that if I would have known…”

“It’s okay Jake.” You shushed him. You had never seen this side of the cocky Jake Seresin before. You weren’t even sure if Jake had a more human side to him. All it took was you nearly cracking your head open to get him there. Who would’ve known?

He shook his head, “It’s not though. What happened to you. Seeing your plane go into freefall and not seeing you eject was hell Y/N. And then you didn’t respond? Mav and I could only think the worst.” His stare could have bore holes into the back of your head.

Cheeks heating up you turned away from him, “Well, I’m still here.”

Jake smiled picking your hand back up feeling the urge to have you close, “Thank goodness for that.”

Stitching your eyebrows together you looked him over, “You going soft on us?”

“Not on us.”

“What?” You asked him sincerely.

“Only for you.”

Sucking in another breath you turned on your side to face him completely, “What do you mean?”

“I can’t lose you Y/N.”

Where was all of this coming from? While you had to admit he was an incredibly attractive guy you never thought in a million years he’d be going for you. All the two of you did was bicker back and forth. Sure, it never got nasty but the two of you could never agree on the same thing. Not even toppings on a pizza. There always had to be an argument between the two of you.

“Are you saying you like me Jake?” eyeing him curiously you couldn’t take your eyes off of him as you anxiously waited for his answer.

He looked up at you. Studying your face for any sign of contempt. For any sign that your repulsed by the sheer fact that not only did he have a full-on crush on you. He was sure he just might love you to.

Nodding his head in agreement it he finally admitted it out loud, “Yes Jinxie. I like you.”

Smiling to him you grabbed one of his hands this time, “You know we aren’t in middle school anymore Jake.”

“Hmm?”

“If you like someone you can be nice to them. You know instead of making them eject and landing them in the hospital.”

Chucking he looked you right in the eyes, “I’m sorry Y/N. Would you give me a chance to prove I’m not a middle school boy?”

Returning his laugh you squeezed his hand, “I’d love to get to know adult Jake.”

“Friday. 6 o’clock. I’m picking you up and taking you out to a nice dinner.”

Raising your eyebrows you took another long look at him, “I can’t wait.”

[coldfanbou]

Lock Up

So this is a rougher story with some degradation. The basic plot is Ryujin wanting to add the use of handcuffs to her sex life with her manager/master.

Length 1.5K

Ryujin x Mreader

Ryujin sat in her room holding a pair of padded handcuffs that she had recently bought. Placing her wrist through them and locking the cuffs, she tested them by trying to pull them apart. They were taut and refused to do so. Ryujin wanted to add some spice to her sex life, and the idea of being restrained aroused her. She knew you could satisfy her, and this would just be the cherry on top. As her manager, you were in the lucky position to have a job where being around the members would draw no attention. It allowed you to have sex with them whenever they needed it. Ryujin was satisfied after a few minutes thinking the handcuffs were of good quality. She began to look around her bed for the key. Panic filled her as she continued to look for it far longer than it should have taken her. The key had seemingly disappeared in the mass of blankets she had. A knock on the door scares her. 

"Ryujin, are you in there? You have a solo schedule today; we need to get going soon." You say. Not hearing a response, you knock again. "Ryujin? Are you still sleeping?" Ryujin, in a panic, hides under the covers. Her plan is to fake being asleep. You wait for another second, and after no response, you crack the door open, "Ryujin, I'm coming in." You open the door to see Ryujin on her side, facing away from you. You reach her side and nudge her, "Ryujin, wake up." Refusing to wake up, you shake her, causing the blanket to slip down low enough for you to see the handcuffs. You slide your hand down to her sweatpants and rub her slit. "Alright, Ryujin, I know you're awake. Be a good girl, and tell me why you bought handcuffs." 

Ryujin begins to mewl and opens her eyes. "I-it's not what it looks like."

"It looks like you bought a pair of handcuffs and tried them on." As you continue to rub Ryujins lips, you look at her bed and spot the keys. "If I had to guess, you lost the keys, and when I knocked on the door, you panicked and got in bed. Am I right in my assumption?"

Ryujin breaks eye contact with you; looking at the bed now, she says, "...yes." 

You kiss her neck, "We still have some time before your schedule. We could always try these things out." Ryujin moans, feeling your lips attack her neck. In combination with the teasing of her lower lips, she nods, unable to resist.

"Yes, master," you smile at her response. 

"That’s a good girl." You grab the handcuff’s chain and force her hands above her head while you straddle her. Ryujin lies on the bed as you kiss her; your other hand moves under her sports bra and begins to toy with her tits. You enjoy the feeling of her big soft tits in your hand as you squeeze them. Ryujin's moans grow louder because of you. You take a moment to strip off your clothes; once you climb back on top of Ryujin, you place your cock under her sports bra and between her breasts. The soft cushions that are her breasts caress your cock as you start to thrust between them. "You have such a slutty body Ryujin. These nice big tits, such a great ass too, and it's all for me."

"Yes, master. Only for you." Ryujin tries her best to lick the head of your cock when it pokes out from between her breasts. You just indulge in the feeling of your cock between her pillowy breasts. When you feel yourself, get close to cumming you start to thrust your hips at a faster pace. 

"Fuck, I'm going to cum, Ryujin. Open your mouth." You command. Bringing yourself to the edge, you cum all over Ryujin's face and neck when your tip pokes out from her tits. When you aren't doing that, your cum paints her tits. You watch as Ryujin uses her tongue to clean her lips of the small amounts of cum that stain them. Once Ryujin has collected everything she can, you move down her body and pull her sweatpants and panties away from her body in one motion. Glancing at her thighs, you notice they're already slick with her juices. "Looks like you're ready, Ryujin."

She simply responds, "fuck me, master." You slap her pussy with your cock a few times before positioning yourself at her entrance and slamming your cock inside. "Fuck me, master!" Ryujin screams as she feels your coco bury itself inside her. You hold onto her waist as you start bucking your hips. Ryujin releases a euphoric laugh, "Fuck me like the slut I am. I'm your little whore master. Fuck me! Fuck me!" Her tongue wags in the air as you continue to use her body as you wish. You force her tight pussy into the shape of your cock as you impale her with every thrust. Ryujin's moans filled the entire dorm as she reveled in the feeling of being fucked by you. 

You move your hands to Ryujin's legs; taking hold of them, you force them to be by her head. The new position allows you to use your weight to add more strength. Ryujin's walls clamping down on your cock tells you all you need to know. Soon enough, she begins to squirt as she cums. Ryujin covers her body in her nectar as she does. The sight before you brings you close to your orgasm, and you drive your cock deep into her to fill her womb with your cum. As you pump her full of cum Ryujin groans, "yes, master! Fill your filthy whore with your cum!"

You remain buried inside Ryujin's pussy for a minute, enjoying the feeling of her walls milking your cock as her body tensed and relaxed erratically. You pull out slowly and watch as your cum leaks from her body onto the bed. Turning around, you look for and find the key. Unlocking the handcuffs, you turn Ryujin over onto her stomach. Forcing her hands behind her back, you handcuff her again. Ryujin laughs and wiggles her ass in response. You deliver a hard smack to it, making her yelp. "Oh, master," she says sensually as she continues to sway her ass from side to side. "Spank me as much as you want; this big ass is just for you."

"I know it is Ryujin." You respond as you hit her again. Her ass jiggles as a red handprint begins to form. Your hands latch onto her ass as you place your cock between her cheeks. "Every part of you is mine, and I'm going to use your other hole this time."

"Go ahead, master, fuck my big ass. Ram that cock into my tight asshole. Tear your little whore apart." Without another word, you do as much, ramming your length into her. You push Ryujin's head into her pillows to keep her voice down. There was some resistance, but your cock being coated in cum and her nectar made it much more manageable. You let go of her head and pull on the handcuff chain while thrusting into her. Her upper body rises slightly, but she falls back down the moment you let go. While her pussy was tight, Ryujin's ass was on another level. You wouldn't be able to hold on long, so you would ensure you spent your time well. Ryujin's cries of pleasure and pain rang out as she felt your cock slam deeper into her asshole each time. Her hands clenched and unclenched as you used her. Soon enough, you hand to hold her ass up as she sank deeper into the bedding. 

As you feel your balls tighten again, you warn Ryujin, "I'm going to cum again. Take it all, you slut!"

A weak "cum inside" from the woman below you is all you hear as you fill her asshole with cum. You continue to thrust slowly as you cum, enjoying her anal walls, squeezing you.

"Oh my god Ryujin, I love your ass. I should use it more often." As you look over at the clock, you notice that you’ll be late for Ryujin's schedule. "I'd love to keep using you, my little slut, but we have to get going. Let's take a quick shower to clean you up."

Ryujin mutters a short response, "Yes, master." You take the cuff off her and notice Ryujin can barely move. 

"I guess we'll be taking a bit longer; we can't have you show up in that shape."

You would arrive an hour late at the shoot, blaming it on Ryujin getting hurt. This would help explain her limp as she struggled to walk in a straight line. While the other staff worried about Ryujin, she waved them away. She was a trooper and would give her all she'd say.

[smoothielenny]

Bearly see any Norm or Max and seeing artists reader got me thinking of this

Unlike Spider in some ways Reader respect the people of the tribe and not try to be liked them but try to understand them ( like Steve Erwin on how he respects the animals and people) and they went to a solo adventure to draw more plants that haven't even documented in her art book and one day she came back kinda late and they holding something and it's few jars of bry dyes, and when asked where they got it she just said " I meet a small group of Na'vi in my adventure and they seem to liked drawing so we trade one of my art book with these "

Turns out they meet different type of Na'vi who wears a type of skull mask due to the high altitude they travel with their large flight companions ( bigger then the banshees ) that been traveling, and they seem to be very friendly as they view reader as a just a child despite being a sky demon, apparently these Na'vis are very allusive and private individuals but willing to learn of things that Pandora have to offer with a open mind

Dora, Dora, Dora, The Explorer

I couldn’t think of better title lol.

“Norm! Where is (y/n)!?” Max yelled. Max and Norm is like your parents, they deeply care for you. Max is mostly the worried one while Norm is more focused f that chill dad. Norm scratched his head responding with ‘I don’t know’ Max just sighed and face palmed himself.

“I’m sure she’s around, you know how she is, always on adventures.” Norm calmed Max, but he wasn’t having it. What if you accidentally went to the enemy’s territory? And got kidnapped by them? What if this time you got lost? These ‘what ifs’ is messing with Max mind and it’s making him crazy.

While you ‘dad’ is having a panic attack, you were walking around the jungle, actually opposite where the enemies territory are, so basically you are safe. While walking you saw through wood some Na’vi, you thought it would be some Omatikaya who is in hunting, but no, they look different. The clothing seems a bit similar, but they were wearing a mask. A mask that looks like a skeleton (luckily not a human skeleton). You walk further to them make a crisp noise from stepping at a dried leaves. They all look at you way, they took their arrow and bow and on their defensive mode. You gasped and put your hands up causing to drop your sketch book and pencil. Your breathing started to go faster. Nervousness is crawling up to you head.

“I…I’m not a threat I swear.” You said in Na’vi. They were shocked that a human knows their language though they didn’t back down yet.

“I’m a friend, not an enemy.” You said slowly. They all look at each other and finally lowered their weapons. You sigh in relief from this, but now feel intimidated, you don’t know what to do after, but you just asked, “are you part of Omatikaya?” They said no and answered with ‘We are not, We are mountain people.’ You nodded. They were about to leave, but you said something along the lines with, “Will you let me follow you? I want to know more about you.”

You are now in the air riding with one of them on a big ikran, well at least like an ikran, it is bigger that an actual ikran. They all landed on the top of a mountain. It is different from the Hellelujah mountain, it has its own type of plants and habitats. You were intrigued by it and starts drawing it. One of them got curious and gets close to know what you are doing. They saw you vastly sketch out a plant, they were impressed. You started asking them about everything you could find and taking notes of it, they happily answered you. Talking to a human who has an interest in their clan and place makes them happy. They told you about their tradition, their food, animals, and their own spirit tree.

Night has come and Max is extra stress. He still couldn’t find you and Norm is now also worried. You usually go back afternoon and now it’s night. You now probably got lost.

“Norm that’s it, I’m going out—“ his arms is grabbed by Norm, again trying to calm Max.

“Hey, hey. It’s already night, why don’t you relax and I’ll find her with my avatar bo—“ his words interrupted by a bang of a door opening. It was you.

“(y/n)! Where were you!?” Max exclaimed. You have a lot of thing to tell him.

[foundationsofdecay]

So, this has been floating around in my head all morning... Give really feels like it's actually a duet between Sleep and Vessel.

Consider the first verse:

You take the dark and carve me out a home I picture you when you are all alone I know how we got here I know how we got here I am the shadow, you're a passenger I am the intake of breath so sharp and I know you better Just want to know you better

The first two lines sound very much like they'd be from Vessel's POV, singing about how Sleep's taken the darkness surrounding them both and carving a home for him, though it's interesting that he specifies that it's a home for himself specifically, not for them both. This is amplified by the next line, it's not thinking of Her when they're alone together, or thinking of Her when he's alone, he's specifically picturing Her when She's alone. That has a couple of different readings: is he picturing Her in a state of solitude, or is he doing so when She's alone like how one might pray for someone in times of need, or some kind of cosmic sense that tells him when She's alone? If this is in fact Sleep being sung to here, that could be its own kind of offering to lend Her strength, since faith and devotion are so critical to Sleep's well-being to begin with.

In my mind, you have Vessel singing the first "I know how we got here", with Sleep coming in for the second, either solo or together, transitioning between the two points of view.

Then, we can take a look at the final three lines. The comment of being a "passenger" reminds me of Granite, of being "more than just a body in your passenger seat". I usually interpret Granite as being from Vessel's POV, though there are some readings that do challenge that. For now, I'm operating off the assumption that Vessel is the passenger here. Thus, who could be the shadow but Sleep? These three lines are really interesting too when it comes to the overall tone; to me, this feels very subtly... not degrading, but self-important, perhaps? Which is also fitting for Sleep at times, if you go off of something like Ascensionism. Vessel is "a" passenger, indicating that there could be others, and yes there's espera in addition to ii and iii and iv, but Vessel's always been /the/ main one, the first, not relegated to the same stature as the others, as if he was just i. Then you have Her say not just that She wants to know him better, but that She knows him better already. That in and of itself could mean several things, but my personal reading is that She's saying She knows him better than to believe/trust/take at face value something that he's saying or doing. Yet despite that, She still wants to know even more.

Onward, then, to the second verse:

I'll tear the fiber from the filament I'll be the limit of your light again I want to taste you better I want to taste you better I will be watching for your enemies To let them know that they contend with me I want to know you're out there I want to know you're out there

For the first four lines, I have a lot of thoughts on how Vessel talks about electronics and code, but for now... You can read the first two lines as being from either perspective, really, but either POV is expressing some pretty serious power dynamics. Here, I'm going to assume he is talking about fiber-optic cables because of the specific words being used here, but there are other types of cables you could draw connections with as well.

Fiber-optic cables are different from other kinds of cables because of these additional 'optical fibers' that are usually in the center, which specifically carry light. They're used very widely, most famously in internet and telecommunication, because compared to regular cables they have higher bandwidth and much faster long-distance communication, and breaks down less often. The optical fiber, simply put, is what makes all of those things possible; without it, if you tore the fiber from the surrounding filament and protective casings in the cable, you wouldn't just be destroying the pathway the light travels down, you would completely remove the ability to communicate with it. It's a line with very sweeping implications.

Limiting the light of Sleep, of Sleep's ability to grow by threatening to withhold offerings or anything else She might want - or perhaps this being Sleep threatening to take away what Vessel's been given earlier, to take him mentally back to where he was when he relied solely on Her. Which way you read it depends mostly on how you interpret Sugar and how you interpret all the imagery of cables and wires and code etc. To me, this reads as Vessel, but in either case it's incredibly possessive, wanting to hold the other close to taste them and take everything they can give while still wanting to provide.

The first "I want to taste you better" is a clear prelude to Sugar, and here there's nothing to imply that the singer already knows the other's taste, so it's likely implied that during this song, and the final chorus in particular, this is what's happening, unless Gods is your pick for that moment in time.

For the final four lines, you also have these layered vocals for "I will be watching for your enemies / To let them know what they contend with me", though this time the other vocals are lower that Vessel's standard register in the song. It's a nice choice in the sound mixing to imply something more aggressive, like it's being spoken through gritted teeth, or perhaps more of a growl. Now, with Vessel being described as Sleep's "weapon of choosing" (depending on how you interpret Blood Sport), this could be Vessel speaking towards Sleep, a promise to fulfill his duty as a weapon, or this could be Sleep, promising to shield Vessel from enemies from the past and use Her presence, regardless of how much power She actually holds, to ward others off.

Now there's the bridge:

In this open warfare I won't fight fair No, I won't fight fair And in your waking moments I will be there I will be there

At this point in the song, taken as a duet, is when we have them singing either in tandem or switching off frequently enough to indicate that they are effectively being sung simultaneously. Here we again have this open acknowledgement of the conflict between the two of them, starting quietly with Vessel's voice somewhat placed to the back, before it comes in stronger in the third line. They'll each do what needs to be done in order to get what they want. It's a quiet admission, to the self or to the other, but as far as this song cares, those are indistinguishable.

Likewise, Vessel's waking moments are Sleep's waking moments, and they'll each be there for the other, no longer having to deal with loneliness like at the start of the song. It's a sentiment that Granite later highlights when Vessel outright says "we'd rather be six feet under than be lonely", and even in that song, using the first-person plural further supports the idea that both of them are echoing this sentiment.

Then, finally, the chorus. I tackled all three as a single entity.

If you want to give Then give me all that you can give All your darkest impulses and If you want to give me anything Then give, give in again I just want to give Want to give you all that I can give All my darkest impulses If you want to give me anything Then give, give in again

The chorus when looked at as a whole, is like a dance to me, which is what inspired the post to begin with. Their layered vocals with as wide a differences between octaves giving a strong sense of two separate characters, and here each one is wanting the same thing from the other. This again draws comparisons to Ascensionism, but in this case it's much less openly destructive - less of an open and aggressive consumption so much as an offering of its own, wanting both to take whatever the other can offer while doing the same in return. Taken as a duet, these words belong to both of them, and with the lyrics, them to one another.

There's a beautiful back-and-forth happening between the balancing of the vocal tracks both as each chorus plays out as well as when you look at them as a whole. We have new harmonies added with each repetition of the chorus until the final one, following the second "I will be there" of the bridge. The truly special thing about this final chorus is how that line is drawn out before finally turning into its own vocal flair that extends throughout the entirety of that chorus. "I will be there", a sentiment that trails into and colors the entire thesis of the song, and by extension, their entire relationship.

[crimsonscloud]

you know what. it's missing norton!bruce hours (again) and i got some headcanons to share this time. below the cut because we might be here a while.

general / misc headcanons:

based on norton's screenplay for the incredible hulk, this bruce's full name is david bruce banner. (this is also how i mentally differentiate between norton and ruffalo's portrayals; to me, norton!bruce is david, ruffalo!bruce is robert.)

his mother used to call him "davey" as an affectionate nickname when he was little.

frankenstein is one of his favorite books because his mother read it to him. (this one is canon to the ih novelization)

he adores dogs and adopts a puppy between the avengers and age of ultron. (i don't have a name for the puppy yet.)

he likes studio ghibli films and finds the animation style relaxing.

learned russian while getting one of his phds, like in the comics.

inspired by this panel from the "super spy banner" arc in the comics: he likes james bond. and yes, he absolutely takes the chance to say "the name is banner. bruce banner" when he's doing an infiltration mission (probably with natasha and/or clint) or something. he and natasha probably watch the films together since her solo film had her quoting along to moonraker.

bruce. is. a. martial. artist. the films forget this and i'm salty about it.

cooking is relaxing for him so he tends to make a lot of food, and he knows a lot of dishes from different cultures because of how much he's traveled. no one on the team complains.

bruce's powers:

glowing eyes <3

inspired by the john turman hulk script, electricity behaves weird around bruce when he gets emotional. he has made lightbulbs and other things explode if he's standing too close to them. he learns how to isolate the effect once he understands more about his relationship with hulk. tony helps by giving him things he doesn't mind getting exploded, and for bruce it also works kind of like a trauma release. he can still accidentally blow something up if he gets distracted / agitated, but it happens less.

the electrical-interference power also manifests as him being able to hear electrical currents. different things have slightly different sounds / pitches and tony always asks him to describe them.

still has a pretty good healing factor as bruce, it's just slower. (in a ih deleted scene sparr says she's never seen someone recover from a tranquilizer as fast as he does). also can't get drunk, but he's never tested that for obvious reasons.

in the novel he's able to dodge a tranq dart "aimed and fired in one motion" so he probably also has faster reflexes.

immune to mind control as bruce and as hulk. both are pissed at wanda for trying it.

based on a scene in the immortal hulk comics, bruce uses automatic writing and drawing to communicate with hulk when hulk isn't out.

can see astral forms. they're clearer and even tangible when hulk is in control, but bruce can also see them.

also inspired by immortal hulk, he has a weird sixth sense for when people are lying to him. as bruce the "itch" he gets can be ignored most of the time, as hulk not so much.

relationship / dynamic headcanons:

no brutasha romance to be seen here they are friends 😌 (if that's your cup of tea that's fine it just isn't mine.)

stays. in. contact. with. betty. (i will forever fight the mcu over this. they are soulmates yall.)

steals tony's band shirts like a gremlin. also steals tony's snacks.

bruce🤝wanda: blurring the lines of science and mysticism. (later comics describe gamma radiation as having a mystical element, "like a magic spell... when viewed from another angle" which is the same reason bruce / hulk tend to have some extrasensory powers).

i just think we were robbed of a bruce and wanda friendship okay.

[claypigeonpottery]

Heyyyyy~ I'm just... So in love with all the work you do, they're all so precious and beautiful I'm in tears. Thank you so for what you do, can't wait to buy something you made soon :D

If it's okei, can you please tell the story of how you got into this and how did you progress from being babie artist to now growing artist and how long you've been doing this for? What's your top 3 fav works you've done? Did you eat good food today, if not please dooo. Thenks

thank you! that's very sweet x3 I'm excited to get more stuff fired and up on Etsy, hopefully before the end of June

.

choose three favourites of my work? oh, that is a difficult question.

one thing I really didn't like about my art when I was younger was that it was all very static. it was people sitting or standing, it was still life paintings. one of the things I'm really proud of in my work now is the sense of capturing a moment instead of someone posing, and/or giving a sense of movement

these two are just the opposite of static and I love them for that

and then there's this mug. the design is great, the details are great and I had so much fun carving it. it was honestly just delightful and I wish I'd kept it. I don't say that very often.

all sold

.

I'm putting the rest of this under a cut because I'm going to ramble

I started drawing because I was making silly comics about me and my friends in grade school and through high school (I assigned them all fursonas because I was a really cool 15 year old lol)

I got a little more serious about art in high school, but I never thought it'd be something I'd make money at.

when I was... in my early twenties? maybe 19 still? ah, memory issues, I went through a nine month art program, the 'Urban Canvas' project run by SCYAP (saskatoon community youth arts programming). the program is meant to support young artists, especially those with mental health or addiction issues. and it meant I got paid to draw and paint and create weird shit for 40 hours a week, for nine months. and then some (seven? eight?) years later I got to go through the program again which... honestly I'm so grateful I got to do that. (and SCYAP still supports me, they give me a table at their craft show every year and helped me with my first solo gallery show)

these are some of the pieces I made during my time at SCYAP:

and two very rare pictures of me, posing with two of my master studies. the left from when I was 20ish, and the right when I was... 27ish? (man I'm still proud of that Gentileschi copy)

.

it was after SCYAP when I started thinking that I could actually make money as an artist. so I painted more than a dozen murals, drew a 20-some page full colour comic, painted pet portraits, and sold my own paintings. commissions were more reliable than selling my own work for a long time lol

as for how I got into pottery, my mental health uh... haha. it took a nosedive about six years ago and during some of the worst of it, I was severely agoraphobic. my mom, who has always supported my art, offered to take me to pottery classes with her, in an attempt to get me leaving the house at least once a week. it did help (along with a lot of other things) and once I started exploring the surface decoration side of pottery, things really clicked for me

.

tangent: one of the things that really drove me to progress as an artist was having something driving my work. whether it was preparing for a gallery show or making a bunch of holiday cards or making piles of fan art because I was obsessed. every time I made something, anything, I improved. so when I had a goal that made me create more, I improved faster.

my unsolicited advice: make that weird fan art. it's good for your art. (I was really into tf2 lol)

.

I've tried tons of different mediums and I think it was a great way to help my style evolve.

when you're making art with a new medium, it might take awhile before you're making your own personal work. I, at least, find that I usually have to do some studies of other peoples' art and just try some basic creations before I do anything more personal. but once I'm ready to do MY stuff, I have a new repertoire to pull from. I wouldn't be the potter I am if I didn't have the experiences I got from other mediums

like acrylics (I did a lot of self portraits >.>)

paper flower making

watercolour

collage

cake decorating

(also oil paints, pastels, 3D wire art, crochet, linocut, stone carving, sewing, set painting and quilting. also my spouse and I like to make crafts together, like cutting-construction-paper, gluing-pompoms-and-googly-eyes crafts, because it's just fun to make stuff together)

I'm sure pottery isn't the last medium I'm gonna try. I'll probably get obsessed with carving tiny wooden figurines or making wax sculptures at some point. who knows!

.

and now I'm in my mid-thirties, making art pretty much every day. I've been doing this since I was a teenager, so almost twenty years now.

I never imagined I'd be satisfied with my own art, that I could look at most of my pieces and not see how I could have done it better, but hey, here I am.

.

wow that was rambly. the ADHD really comes out when I'm writing lol. and I did eat real food today! before having some freezies

thanks so much for your ask, hopefully I satisfied your curiosity

[luke-shywalker]

i’m slowly going blind in my right eye

my retina, the little projector screen that lines the back of the inside of my eyeball, lifted away a little bit and now I can’t see my husband’s face when I wink!

who would think??

at the specialist they asked if I was there for my mom because young people don’t usually need their retinas checked

did i have any head trauma?? no! never!! just the other kind

tryna figure out when i can schedule the surgery because i’m doing a musical until october and a strongman competition before november but i gotta get it done or i won’t be able to draw ben solo anymore!!!

we thought the blind spot in my eye was just a migraine. but now it’s just a headache. i’ve never had surgery before omg??? not unless wisdom teeth removal counts. they’re gonna put a silicone band around my eye to squish my eyeball so that the retina is against the back of my eye again! whoa

a brace for my eye!

but we should’ve caught this sooner so we don’t know if i’ll ever see right out of my right eye

and that was a little hard for me at first but—hey!! ain’t nobody getting outta this life in one piece!!!! so why would i???

why would…eye

and anyway my life was getting a little boring. it’s about time we had a new plot point in here!!! retinal detachment arc retinal detachment arc!!! this’ll bring in the ratings!

at least eye’ve got one good eye. eye’d lose a lot if eye lost her too—

goodbye drawing

goodbye writing

goodbye acting

goodbye lifting

well, i’m sure i’d still be able to do these things in some way. it’d just be…different.

at least then we’d have a seeing-eye dog—my husband’s super obsessed with dogs right now—but, uh, he’s specifically obsessed with chihuahuas…and, i don’t think there are seeing-eye chihuahuas

but that doesn’t matter, anyway, ‘cause i’ve still got one good eye, and the one that’s not so good—well, we’re gonna stop it from getting worse!!! it may not ever get better—like, all the way—but we can stop it from getting worse

ya know. until i’m sixty and it just gets worse in the normal way.

from dust to dust, my body’s slowly dying, some parts a little faster than others, until the day the curse gets reversed

[notasapleasure]

Oh I realized I forgot to ask about Jerott/Marthe plans (I think I’ve seen what you’ve written but I’d love to hear abt the other ideas too!) and “AU of an AU” bc I wanna know how the townhouse stay goes!

I'll answer Au of an au separately :')

Ik I must have mentioned this a million times, but it always bears repeating :') the whole ethos of band AU Jerott/Marthe is summarised by the song Precious Things by Tori Amos:

So I ran faster But it caught me here Yes, my loyalties turned Like my ankle In the seventh grade Running after Billy Running after the rain

These precious things Let them bleed Let them wash away These precious things Let them break Their hold on me

He said "you're really an ugly girl But I like the way you play" And I died, but I thanked him Can you believe that? Sick, sick, holding on to his picture Dressing up every day I wanna smash the faces Of those beautiful boys Those Christian boys So, you can make me cum That doesn't make you Jesus

These precious things Let them bleed Let them wash away These precious things Let them break Their hold on me

I remember, yes In my peach party dress No one dared No one cared to tell me Where the pretty girls are Those demigods With their nine-inch nails And little fascist panties Tucked inside the heart Of every nice girl

These precious things Let them bleed Let them wash away These precious things Let them break Let them wash away These, these precious things Let them bleed, now Let them wash away These, these precious things Let them break Their hold on me

--

I also actually made a band AU playlist for them ages and ages ago, but some of those songs have since been repurposed to other characters' playlists and I think I'd rework it quite heavily now. Still, gives an idea of the vibes.

More answer and fic below the cut

Marthe gets saddled with minding Jerott while he finishes up his stint in rehab (Anemone on Ao3). She doesn't let on what she knows of where Francis has gone - nor who he's gone with - and Jerott's probably surprisingly tolerable while he's sober and chastened after all the drama of the road trip etc. They get to jamming together and do a few shows for pocket money, and probably bond over some obscure artists and songs they didn't think anyone else knew about/thought were cool in that day and age (mutual love of Nature Boy ftw haha yes I am aware of what I did there: 'the greatest thing you'll ever learn / is just to love / and be loved / in return').

Marthe, cynical about her chances of a solo career in the wake of Kiaya's departure, sees in Jerott a competant musician who she might bend to play her kind of music, to allow her to kind of ride on-his-coattails into the charts/European market (grudgingly admitting the need for a Man in the music industry, thanks for the 'lesson', Kiaya), from where she might find her own niche. They do have chemistry on stage at this point, playing covers together and challenging each other to play better than the other. I think that leads her to a moment of vulnerability where she makes a last gasp effort to convince herself she's bi, when it's really just that competence is a draw no matter who they are. But Jerott's still sober and he's so excited she's willing to tolerate him (oh thank god!! I was attracted to her and not Francis after all!!) that he's well behaved and keeps his mouth shut when told to (see excerpt below). He is also, as we have discussed, A Good Sex Haver, or at least is very much the kind of guy who gets off on giving good head (it's MY au and I'll do what I want to make elements of their marriage less grim ok??), so even if Marthe's not keen on piv she can live with the situation.

The marriage is something they both claim to go into with eyes wide open - knowing it suits her to have access to European residency (I am not looking up citizenship law for this ask, but Jerott probably has dual French/British if that's possible at the time) and knowing that he's obsessed with her(/Francis) while she's kind of indifferent/tolerating him. But of course he believes she'll come to love him anyway, and he believes he doesn't love Francis, and she believes he'll stay sober and meek and won't mind being teased about Francis when it's obvious that's who he'd rather be with.

They do some touring and it starts well - Fleetwood Mac energy, bouncing from love to hate depending on the kind of day they've had. They get a pretty good record contract, but they absolutely blow the recording of it. They have to *live* together for the first time, not on tour, but in a place near the studio, confined and at each other's throats. He starts drinking again. She won't compromise musically. It's a total flop - the lyrics are called outdated and garbled, the music is overproduced, stifled and jars from one track to the next. They play a few live shows where some of the tracks come into their own a bit, but the reviews put such a strain on them they pull their tour and fuck off to Europe, like living together in Jerott's ancestral homelands and sorting through Marthe's grandma's junk is somehow going to improve things.

So that's when things start to come apart, even though they're ostensibly working on a second record together they're not touring and they're working from a home studio, so their world is quite limited and Marthe branches out and finds French friends while Jerott obsessively follows the music news and write great long epistles to Francis.

In terms of the fic I mentioned, the idea was trying to write the highs (well, moderate peaks) and lows of their relationship through sex. I never got very far with the first one (below) but the idea was that 1) leaves Marthe mildly impressed, 2) a bit uncertain of how this might evolve, but still happy enough, 3) he says 'Francis' when he comes, but he's sober and just very tired so she elects to ignore it for now, 4) starting to get bored with this, the tour is tiiiring, 5) studio life doesn't suit them, he's not sober, and when he says 'Francis' this time she's absolutely calling him on it.

I did still intend to write a version of this fic set between the Baron Morgan/Aga Morat stuff and Checkmate, but I only wrote one scene between them, which you've read :)

Others haven't though! So I'll post it beneath the excerpt from the unfinished bit. It makes reference to her suspicion that it's only a matter of time before he calls her 'Francis' and alludes to a less-than-happy occasion on which GRM pulled his hair, not like he's ready to talk about that with Marthe...uh...ever? I imagined it set sometime during their tour, before they get bogged down trying to record their album. It's more them, I think - Marthe eternally shadowed by a kind of self-loathing and resentment of Jerott that's never going to go away.

--

Draft 1

She's pleasantly surprised pre-wedding

No, that won't work, but keep doing it if you have to

He says 'Francis' when he shouldn't

So you can make me come it doesn't make you Jesus

She calls him out on saying Francis, he clearly had no idea he'd said it

1.

By the end of the encore, laughing and waving into what seemed a physical wall of noise, Jerott knew he had never been happier in his life. The crowd wasn't the biggest he had played to, the set had been rough and ready, but there was a spark on that stage that even Marthe could no longer deny. She stepped up to stand by his side and raise her own arms, and she smiled across at Jerott: a small, wry little thing, but a smile that contained genuine pride.

In the motel corridor, Jerott stopped at her shoulder, each of them facing opposite directions. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, her long, white neck held tall and straight, her smile something that even now she fought, but that made her cornflower blue eyes sparkle.

"That was pretty good, right?" He offered his most bashful, winning grin in return, lowering his chin and gaze.

Marthe snorted. "Yeah," she admitted though. "Yeah it was. You can play, I'll give you that."

He raised his brows and tried not to laugh or blush - he knew he could play, he'd never needed to hear it from her. But she was looking at him still, in a strange and calculating manner that made him feel weighted to the spot. Her eyes narrowed, sweat-smudged kohl hemming in their vibrant colour, and she bit her lip.

He didn't notice her hand move until it began to slide around his, neat and warm, her fingers following the sensitive contours of his palm.

Jerott sucked in a breath and his hand tightened reflexively on hers. At the pressure, Marthe's expression flickered, the corners of her mouth moving with something tight and resigned and her nostrils flaring. But she didn't try to withdraw.

She said nothing, and he saw blooms of colour, like peonies, cover the pale skin of her chest and throat. Her pulse flickered in the pronounced v of tendons between her collarbones and Jerott ached to press his mouth to it and feel her life, separate and strange beneath his lips.

Marthe tugged his hand until he took a step sideways, and the lengths of their arms were aligned: his bare brown skin against her rumpled shirt and white skin, long black hairs mingling with the fine blonde ones covering her forearm. Her face was only inches from his. It was smooth as polished marble, distinguished here and there by traces of the complexities of her existence: fine echoes of all her frowns and smiles in the lines that could not be seen when he stood back. And he had never known her eyes so wide, her mouth part with such softness.

Jerott felt his heart jolt at the expression on her face. He had imagined it so many times, in so many places, and it could never have compared to the way she looked now: sultry and confident, gently, wryly amused, and - finally - interested in what she saw in return?

"You think I can play?" He murmured, leaning into her gravity, his smile smooth and his eyes steady.

She grinned, but it made the hairs on his arms stand on end: a sense of danger gathering. "Don't," Marthe said, her voice crisp and firm.

He raised his eyebrows and broadened his sweetest smile. With an unsteady breath he lowered his face still closer to hers.

Marthe snorted, blue fire dancing in her eyes, the dimples in her cheeks sinking deeper. "I said don't!" She repeated, but her grin crept into her voice. "Don't pull that smooth shit with me, you got your compliment."

Jerott laughed silently and looked down, his eyes hovering on her lips as he contemplated saying another foolish thing.

She must have seen the idiocy on the tip of his tongue and pre-empted it: "Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up," she raked the last syllable over her vocal chords, drawling , chuckling, edging nearer herself until her nose brushed against his. Her mascara-coated lashes lowered until the last moment.

Jerott met her eyes as their lips touched: blue like an open sky, blue like denim and fresh water. Her mouth was soft and hot, closed over his own parched mouth as she tested the feel of him, her open eyes seeking out the response she elicited.

He tried to hold her stare, but her lips moved against his, her teeth met his lower lip with gentle, teasing pressure, and he gasped and his eyes fell shut. His free hand came up to her shoulder, which was warm beneath the shirt she had shrugged on over her sweat-dark tank top, the perfect fit against his palm.

--

Draft 2

He'd proven himself, to Marthe's great surprise, an enthusiastic and generous lover. No inheritor to Gaultier's bored, unimaginative humping was Jerott Blyth; he'd go down on her at the drop of a hat, and he'd do it well; backstage, back alleys, motel rooms - wherever he could get his hands on her while they were both still buzzing with the adrenaline of the set they'd played.

Marthe wasn't sure if it made it easier or harder when he was above her in a motel bed then, taking what he assumed would be given freely in exchange for his own efforts. She did try, for the first few times, to work out if she might like it when it was a handsome young man between her legs instead of her dry, detached professor. But though she entertained the idea of being someone, something else, it wasn't long before she knew it just wasn't for her - neither in the sense of something given, nor in the sense of appealing to her tastes.

But he wasn't Gaultier, she wasn't his pet, and he could play. Their sets were electric, furious, wild in a way Marthe had never had the freedom to be publicly before. And afterwards he wanted to - and could - make her cum like no one she'd met since the girlfriend she'd had back in halls, and after that she was able to simply lie there and wait for him to finish without even feeling much of anything.

Gaultier had developed a habit of working on his compositions while he fucked her - eyes closed, mentally picturing the stave as he hummed and muttered notes to himself. Jerott, on the other hand, was gentleman enough to admire her with his eyes, his hands, his tongue. To never forget a condom the way Gaulter had from time to time – because he could, too. Above all, he was very eager to tell her she was beautiful.

Marthe didn't need to be told that. But it was better than being used as a dissociative tool for someone's artistic process.

It seemed kinder, then, to maintain an air of curiosity, of interest. In order to do so, she made a bet with herself - with the money she was earning from this tour, she'd buy herself a new guitar if he slipped and called her Francis while deep in the throes. If he didn't, she'd do something sensible with the money. Put it in savings or something.

Maybe she was thinking of the guitar when, one night in Seattle, she sat up to take the foil packet from his hands and open it herself. He looked at her searchingly, dark eyes she found difficult to read scanning her expression for ulterior motives.

Marthe tossed the loose tendrils of her tied-back hair over her shoulder and tore the packet open with her teeth, aware of the weight of his stare, aware of his breath coming more heavily.

She rolled the condom on, thinking abstractedly of community sex ed workshops on the college lawn. For good measure, she gave his cock a couple of firm strokes, and he gasped, his brows raising.

Ok, that's plenty, Marthe sat back with an expression she imagined was closer to being a seductive smile than a grimace. She didn't want him to think she was going to do...that, every time.

Perhaps she was overthinking things, overestimating what he'd notice and what he'd expect. Jerott wasn't that complicated, after all - he reached for her and kissed her like there was only one thought on his mind, and Marthe let herself be brought close, kissed him back with the same sloppy urgency.

Then, impulsively, she moved closer still, lifting one leg and shifting to straddle him where he sat on the edge of the bed - he made a sound in the kiss that Marthe took to be surprise and pleasure, and she ground her hips against him, her body still wet from his tongue, from her own orgasm, slick against the rubber he wore.

Jerott moaned and Marthe gritted her teeth. She pushed him back to the mattress and lowered herself onto him, her eyes closed, her mind on the wares for sale at Eve's Garden. She had him half on the bed and half off, his lower legs dangling over the side, unable to brace himself easily against the floor - it gave her near total control of the rhythm, and she batted him back down again if he tried to sit up.

He didn't take much convincing, though he remained propped on his elbows for a time, gawping up at her. She could sense him watching, and cracked open her eyes to wince at his expression of ragged, lascivious desire - mouth loose and open, eyelids heavy, gaze blank. Marthe screwed her eyes shut again and sank herself as low as she could, upping the pace of her rolling hips.

Jerott at last admitted defeat, lay back and made a strangled sound of ecstasy, holding onto her thighs just above each knee with bruising strength in his hands.

She'd never done this with Gaultier - he didn't believe in a woman being on top, and besides, if she'd broken his hip or something, he wouldn't have hesitated to claim the medical bills on her insurance.

But there was, she found, far more pleasure to be had this way. There were no hot, grasping fingers or lips on her breasts, there was no sandpapery, rough cheek rubbing on the skin of her neck. She could keep her eyes closed and imagine herself wherever she needed to be to get off.

She began to believe that she might do so here, as well. She wielded her body with less deliberation, working herself to a sweat as she bucked her hips, her hands resting on the tops of her thighs, feeling her breasts swing heavily, the small, natural garland of fat on her belly and her flanks jogging with her movements. The bed and mattress shrieked and rattled beneath her, the sound like a crowd going wild for an encore.

Jerott let out a cry and Marthe was almost embarrassed to hear herself answer it, feeling fire crawl its way up inside her, flickering and crackling like a broken bulb at the edge of her vision.

Fearful he wouldn't last as long as she needed, she let herself lean forwards, one hand a fist, bracing herself against his chest, the other taking hold of a bunch of his black hair for good measure, fingers tangling against his sweaty scalp. She adjusted the angle of her hips accordingly and bit her lower lip, trying to keep her momentum going.

Beneath her, Jerott's body flinched.

"Fuck...!" he groaned. He gripped the wrist of the hand that was knotted in his hair but found that tugging it only tightened Marthe's hold. His other hand flailed for the bed clothes, grabbing at the sheets and relieving the pressure on Marthe's thigh so she could really move how she wanted to.

He didn't complain about her grip. On the contrary, his eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed with concentration. "Oh, god..." he said hoarsely as his head rolled on the covers.

It was never quite enough though - she didn't get further than eternally close before his body bucked beneath hers with a grunt. The way he craned his neck and turned his head against the mattress pulled her forward, jerked by the hand tangled in his hair, and her own concentration was lost as he came.

"Shit," Marthe barked breathlessly.

She tugged her hand free, noting that Jerott's hold was now on her hips, his thumbs softly caressing her skin, encouraging her own gentle rocking motion to continue as he finished, wringing every last drop of satisfaction out.

Marthe swept his hands away, rolled off him without preamble and sat beside his prone form with a sour taste rising to her tongue. Disappointment - she knew the flavour well. Stupid, to let herself get involved like that, to try and take something for herself. That wasn't what this was about.

It was about her career. Wasn't it always?

Marthe sighed and massaged her brow. Her grandmother would want to know when she was moving to Europe, when she was going to find a market she could really sell to. When she was going to make something of herself - or, failing that, make Francis Crawford make something of her. Whatever they really were to each other.

Her grandmother would have a great many questions when the tour finally came to an end in New York, but one thing Marthe's grandmother would be certain of was that the man currently lying next to her was second-best - and Marthe's grandmother would therefore judge him perfectly adequate to his task.

Jerott lay still for a moment beside her and then raised a hand and rubbed at the top of his sternum, at his throat like he had a pain there. He let out a cough and frowned at the ceiling, then sat up and slipped away to the ensuite.

Usually, when they were in the motel room, he couldn't wait to wrap his arms around her afterwards, to pin her close in his hold - where Marthe felt like a small bird gripped in a fist. He'd fall asleep and she'd lie there, smelling his tobacco, his whiskey, waiting until he was heavy and snoring and she could squirm free to lie comfortably on the other side of the bed.

Tonight though, he lingered in the bathroom, and Marthe felt chilled and exposed as she realised that, for once, she would quite like to have been held in his warm arms. It might have made her feel a little less silly about the whole relationship, just to follow through with the act a bit longer today. But he didn't seem in any hurry to come back to her. She lay naked on the rumpled bedsheets while he ran faucets and clattered about with mouthwash and water glasses.

Her head propped on one hand, the remote lying in front of her, Marthe glared at the tiny TV screen in the corner of the room and stabbed buttons on the remote with one-fingered vindictiveness. That was it, she'd decided. Penetrative sex had to be the worst joke ever told to womankind. She wouldn't bother getting her hopes up again about it.

Click.

Porcupines fucking on a nature documentary. Marthe accepted the funny side of it, and snorted.

Click.

Some lowest common denominator sitcom where the overworked woman was chewing out her lazy husband.

Click.

Teleshopping.

Click.

Pizza ad. Her stomach growled. Maybe she was being unfair. Maybe she was just hungry - she hadn't eaten since before soundcheck.

Click.

A familiar shade of rose pink caught her eye as the channels flickered, and she stopped her assault on the remote to frown at the screen.

"With revelations emerging about Rajneeshpuram daily, it's looking more and more like Graham Reid Malett's activities were standard across all the cult's sites."

It was a report into illegal activities at the main ashram in Oregon, but showed footage of the man who had styled himself Geetesh in custody and on trial for crimes committed at his own Nevada ashram. Marthe watched with a kind of fascinated disgust as the portentous voiceover barely scraped the surface of Reid Malett's wrong-doings.

"Fraud, invasion of privacy, coercion, and he presided over violent and sexual workshops in which willing participants..."

As she watched, Jerott emerged from the ensuite. He handed her one of the two water glasses he'd filled and paused by the bed, staring at the TV with an appalled expression.

"What the fuck are you watching?" he asked.

Marthe shrugged the shoulder that was uppermost and nodded at the bedside table, indicating that Jerott could leave the water there.

"You don't wanna know how Swami Graham is doing?"

He'd moved round to his side of the bed and she saw his face the way it was lit up by the screen: repulsed, furious, maybe even a bit scared?

"No."

Marthe thought she noticed his fingers tremble a little as he put his own glass down. He ran them through his hair and then his eyes fell on the remote.

"Switch it off."

She saw him reach for it and - because he wanted it, because he spoke commandingly and she'd let him have enough already, and more, that night - she snatched it away. "I'm watching!"

"Well don't! What do you even want to know that you haven't already seen with your own two eyes?" He gestured furiously, pointing two fingers at his own fierce features, and grabbed again for the remote.

"Hey!" Marthe wasn't above hollering when he laid a hand on her to stop her from protecting the device. "Don't touch me!"

Jerott had already retreated to stand by the bed again, maintaining a distance, his palms open at his sides, his expression one of vexed fury. "Please switch it off," he said carefully, but Marthe knew suppressed anger when she heard it.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why? You're not gonna...let it all out, get all cathartic on me?"

His jaw clenched visibly.

"Personally, I think it's reassuring to see him cuffed and guarded," Marthe added, eyeing up the picture on the screen.

"...swapped his disciple's robes of pink for fetching penitentiary facility orange..."

Jerott said nothing, but took three long strides to the far wall and yanked the TV plug from the socket.

Marthe rolled her eyes and swept the remote off the bed so it clattered to the floor. "Oh, Mr Rock and Roll. Gonna throw it out the window, too?"

Jerott got into bed and yanked the sheet over his body without turning to face her. "Good night, Marthe," he snarled.

She stared at his back for a moment and then made a sound of exasperation and got up to brush her own teeth.

It wasn't like she'd wanted to watch the programme anyway, it was just that any talk of the Rajneeshees wound him up so much, even now. Marthe, of all people, could well understand another's bitterness about the wasted years of their life - but Jerott's bitterness was always special. He couldn't accept that anyone else might have regrets about any number of things, oh no - nothing compared to the victimhood of the boy who had run off to join a cult instead of going to med school, who had run off to med school instead of joining a band with a man he was clearly deeply, obliviously in love with. He was evidently the first guy on earth to find out he was attracted to a man and feel conflicted about it, the first person in the history of mankind to have his illusions shattered about someone he'd trusted.

Marthe brushed her teeth and hair angrily in the dark bathroom and got back into bed with a heavy landing on the mattress, with deliberately exaggerated kicking of the sheet, plumping of the pillow, and fidgeting until she was comfortable.

"Good night, Jerott. Good gig today. Sleep well."

[catierambles]

All in Due Time Ch.5

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Allison Rogers (OFC)

WC 930

Warnings: None

@kingliam2019 , @brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme , @teamfan7asy , @fvckinghenrycavill

Napoleon lounged in the bedroom as Allison sat out in the living room, going over the recording of the meeting. The pen had twisted, the clip moving aside revealing a small slot that she had pressed on, a very small piece of plastic popping out that she then put into another device with headphones plugged into it. She had offered no explanations and he was starting to understand that asking questions would get him nothing but another shrug or non-answer. Putting aside the book he was reading, he slid the robe on that she had gotten him and walked out into the living room, watching her from the doorway as she listened to the recording. A small, almost adorable, scowl adorned her face and she wrote in a notebook from time to time, taking notes on the conversation she was listening to. His head tilted to the side as he watched her write, however, and he went over, leaning over her shoulder. It wasn't any lettering he recognized.

"What're you writing in?" Napoleon asked.

"Latin in the Ancient Roman alphabet." She said simply. "Quiet."

"Latin? You know Latin?"

"Learned it for an assignment in Rome, shush."

"They speak Italian or English in Rome, not Latin." Napoleon said, "And they definitely don't use the Ancient Roman alphabet anymore."

"I use it because if my notebook is found, no one will be able to translate the notes unless they have a degree in dead languages." Allison said, "Now quiet."

"Still doesn't explain why you learned it for an assignment if--" His words stopped as she reached up, pressing a finger to his lips.

"Silence." She said and tapped the tip of his nose gently before withdrawing her hand. He waited in silence until she was done and she turned off the device, taking the headphones off. "Your meeting at their offices tomorrow gives us an opportunity to get into their files, see who else is doing business with them and what deals they've already made. Think you can plot out a floor plan and then draw it with accuracy?"

"I can, yes." Napoleon said.

"Wonderful. I doubt they'll take you into their file room, but I can still work with it." Allison said, "Then tomorrow night, I'll go snooping and see what I can come across."

"We will go snooping. You're not going by yourself."

"I move faster on my own and having us both there doubles the chances of detection."

"And having someone there who's actually been in the building will help."

"That's what the drawing is for."

"Which you can't exactly take with you."

"Which I'll memorize so I don't have to."

"Allison."

"Napoleon."

"I'm going with you, end of discussion."  He said and she sighed, leaning forward and covering her eyes with her hand briefly before setting her chin in her palm. Her eyes went blank for a moment, but then she blinked and was back.

"Okay, fine. It won't go wrong if you come with me, but only if you do what I say when I say it. You don't, and it will go sideways." He got the feeling she wasn't speaking in hypotheticals, but an actual proven fact.

"I--okay." Napoleon said and she nodded.

"Spectacular." She said and stood from the chair, stretching with her arms above her head. The phone in the apartment rang shrilly and he went over to it, picking it up.

"Leon Wright." The voice on the other end just gave him a time and location, telling him to come alone before the call disconnected. His handlers weren't exactly big on words, but the fact that they didn't want Allison to be at the meeting gave him pause.

"Everything okay?" Allison asked.

"Yes, everything is fine." He said with a small smile and she perked an eyebrow at him before shrugging and moving past it.

“I need to take a shower. I’m starting to smell…interesting.” She said and went to her suitcase, pulling out a bag of toiletries and disappearing into the bathroom after grabbing a set of pajamas as well. The silk set, he noted with interest. Taking off the robe, he went back into the bedroom and threw it over the chair in the corner, laying on the bed and waiting for her to come back out. It was about 45 minutes by the time she finally emerged, her hair twisted up in a towel, the nightgown clinging to her damp skin. Her skin was flush from the hot water and the gentle smell of…peaches? followed her as she walked past the bed, taking the towel down and squeezing her hair in the folds. Napoleon watched her closely, his hands on his stomach and he turned onto his side, propping up on his elbow as she joined him on the bed, laying with her back to him.

“Allison?” He asked.

“Yes, Napoleon?” Leaning into her, he pressed his lips to her shoulder bared by the thin straps of the nightgown, his hand going to her tucked-in waist under the blankets and she snorted in amusement.

“I did say to hold that thought.”

“You did, yes.” She said and his hand slid over the silk to her stomach, making her laugh. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“Encourageable? Absolutely.” He said and she laughed again, turning over to look up at him and making him smile.

“Come here you little--” She pulled him down into a kiss and he smirked against her lips, easing his weight down onto her as his hands went to her thighs, sliding the nightgown up her smooth skin.

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

I was tagged by @bougainvillea-and-saltwater to do this amazingly cool tag game and share the "theme songs" of my fic, all instrumental!! You had such a wonderful idea with this tag game, dear 🥰🥰 **Edit, since this has been in the drafts, @shitty-drawer also tagged me💖💖 Thank you so much, and I actually tagged you in this game 🤣 You were faster than me in posting it.

I thought it was going to be easy, as I listen to a ton of instrumental music, because I also like to always have music in the background! But going off of vibes, this is how I associate music to my fic "Wherever you go, there you are":

"Miasma" by Ghost. This is Ravonna’s theme song. This one, I feel like, it encapsulates Mage!Ravonna perfectly. And that saxophone solo? Groovy! Just like her and her bard side. It also feels like a beautifully threatening song, in a way, and I think it fits her perfectly. The second song for her, because I simply cannot only choose one is "Faronell's Division" by John Playford. This one represents her sassyness as well as her impulsiveness, with all the changes in rhythm

For Miraak, I'm going with "Gnossienne No.5" by Erik Satie, because of the ✨️gentleness✨️ and this song heals the soul, and he's a healer, sooo yeah. The second one I choose for him is "A watering hole in the harbor" by Adam Skorupa; this is such a joyful song, and I feel like it really encapsulates the "I have no idea what y'all are doing, but I'm joining in and I'm so happy to be here" vibe that Miraak has once he gets more comfortable and lets go of the Miraak persona and embraces his true self <3

Now for the WYGTYA as a whole and general vibes:

I find myself listening to "Thunderbrew" by David Arkenstone a lot while writing, and since it has such a tavern-y vibe to it, this could be the theme for the fellowship whenever they are at a tavern having fun, drinking, eating and being in their natural habitat 🤣

"People of the land" by Jan Valta is the absolute perfect song for showing beautiful landscapes of both Morrowind and Skyrim, while also being the perfect song for Ravonna’s inner struggles to figure out whether she feels more at home in Skyrim, the land of her people, or in Morrowind, the land where she grew up. This is also the Civil War storyline theme, in my heart :')

"City of Sails" by Inon Zur is a theme that I don't know how to explain, without giving away spoilers :)))) It has ties to Ravonna's family, but will also represent the land of High Rock (yes, the story will go there too🤣) Also this one is one of those songs that I am kind of emotionally attached to, for some reason. I just wish I lived within this song, in a way.

And for the extra ocs:

For Endryn, I have "Tavern" by Jason Hayes, this one is pretty obvious, he is my beloved innkeeper dunmer oc who adopted Ravonna. He was very friendly, kind, stressed and quite funny, dad joke expert.

For Hjaldir, my other beloved oc, the nord bard that worked at the Inn where Ravonna grew up, because he is an ex-pirate, I'm going for "Moonlight Serenade" by Klaus Badelt. I don't associate him with the character Jack Sparrow all that much, but this song draws the perfect image of a charming and charismatic pirate, and the tune is incredibly melodious, so it really fits his bard persona well! Also, the intense part is perfect for his adventurous and danger-filled life. He's got many, many stories from his pirate days 😉

If you made it until here, I literally love you so much! Thank you for reading my ramblings. I could talk about songs and music all day!

I'm tagging my usual favourite mutuals @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @thelavenderelf @nerevar-quote-and-star Y'all already know you don't have to do this if you don't want to 💖💖 just ignore me and if I'm being annoying with the tag games, do let me know. This is not my intention at all! I will stop tagging you if you don't want to participate.

[jazzandotherthings2]

I. Welcome To Chicago

You’re slow, Kathrine says, though she’s not really saying it, switching between the snare, the ride cymbal, and the toms faster than anyone else I’ve ever played with. I reply by speeding up, running down chromatic runs, landing on the flat seven, then the fifth, then the tonic as the form draws to its end. It’s like the adrenaline in my veins finally reaches my head as I find a resolution with the last measure. Damn, I love soloing. 

When I glance over my shoulder, Kathrine offers me a smile from behind the drums. Sam, the bassist, tilts their head to the side for a moment. It means go again. I don’t really have time to prepare, but Alex, the pianist, covers me. He’s a great musician, but I can’t talk with him through music like Kathrine can. We go back and forth through the form again, responding to each other’s thoughts. It’s a conversation that transcends words. When we reach the top of the head, I am hearing Sam, pushing us along, ready to pick up a different song.

As Alex closes the song, Sam whispers to the stage, “Yardbird?” 

I nod, ready to play it. ‘Yardbird Suite’ is one of my favorites. Charlie Parker, one of the most influential jazz musicians of all time wrote it. His nickname, Yardbird, or just  Bird if you’re short on time, comes up again and again. Parker wrote a lot of my favorite bebop tunes. His songs are good for using chromatic lines over the changes. Coming in with the band is probably one of the most powerful feelings in the world.

Performing is probably one of the best things in the world. This is how I was meant to spend my life. It’s funny. While I usually have at least a vague idea for something before I start soloing, I can never remember what I did after. It’s probably the adrenaline. 

When we’re on our mid-set break, about halfway through the night, Alex asks, “So what were you doing with that one on the last song?”

“What?” I ask. My eyes catch on Kathrine. “Hey-” She takes a swig of her drink before looking at me. “You changed your hair.”

She smirks. “Yeah.” It’s in cornrows, dyed blue at the end. “What else is new?”

Uhh, no clue. I look her up and down. Wait, she’s wearing heels. I will never understand how one works footpedals in heels. Well, it’s probably a learned skill, but, damn. Has she ever done this before? “You’re wearing heels?”

“Two for two,” she says. “Yet somehow you’re still single.”

“You’re, like, twelve, your insults mean nothing to me.” She’s twenty four, but same difference.

Kathrine laughs and finishes her drink. “I’ll still throw you for a loop tonight.” It’s a game we play. We try to find ways to get each other tripped up, just because it’s funny to try and recover.

The rest of the set goes well. Kathrine does not manage to trip me up.

After the set, Alex elbows me. “What are you doing after this?” He asks.

“I’m heading to Charlie’s,” I reply. “You?”

“I was going to go home and sleep,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Like a normal person.”

I shrug. “Gotta pay rent.”

“When’s your next day off?”

“Wednesday, I think.”

“Do you want to meet up?”

“Sure,” I say, undoing the top button of my shirt. “Sam, is everything loaded?” They nod and flash a thumbs up.

“What, like you were going to help,” Kathrine scoffs. 

“How’d that feel for you?” Sam asks, leaning against the passenger-side door of the car. 

It’s pretty normal for our Monday night gig. We got there, we played, and then we left. 

Wait, shit, it’s Tuesday. That means I’m teaching lessons this afternoon. Well, next afternoon. Tomorrow. Time is weird when you work nights. 

Guitar and amp in hand, I catch the subway to Charlie’s Luthier Shop. It’s technically called Charlie’s Guitar Repair and Shop, but the stickers in the door just say Guitars. I walk right past that glass door, down the narrow alley beside it, and into the even narrower walkway to the workshop. The key clicks into the lock, and the familiar scent of wood and epoxy fills my nose. My guitar and amp go on the bench by the door, and I change out of nice clothes before clocking in. The first thing I do is sweep. I spend the full night doing odd tasks around the shop. That’s one good thing about working nights: I get to be left alone.

When I’m measuring wood for guitars, that’s the only thing in my mind. Time becomes a liquid, falling on the roof outside and catching in the gutters, pooling in puddles around my mind. When I’m too tired to use cutting tools, I switch to cleaning the shop. For a moment, I’m not an adult working late at night, I’m fourteen, mopping the shop floor over and over and over again.

“Evan?” Charlie’s deep voice comes from the door, and I jump, dropping the mop. “You’re here early. Or, well, late for you.” 

Shit, what time is it? I check my phone: 6:30. Damn. 

“What time did you get in last night?”

The restaurant we gigged at last night closed at 10:30, right? “Eleven I think.”

“And you’re teaching lessons today, yeah?” I nod. “Go get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”

“Thank you, sir.” I put away the cleaning supplies. 

My phone buzzes at seven, as I walk the too-bright streets to the train station.

Good Morning, Alona Peshlakai says, and I’m already smiling. Are you awake?

One handed, guitar over my shoulder and amp in my other hand, I reply: Yeah.

Early Morning or late night?

Late night

Do you want coffee? 

Yes. Always yes. When do I not want coffee? When do I not want her attention? It takes a moment to type a reply.

In case you’re wondering: the gig economy is absolutely fucked over. Working as a luthier and a lessons teacher is a little bit more stable, and, when I need to, I can always find work as a video editor online. That’s actually how I met Alona. She hired me to edit a video for her work.

Alona Peshlakai is probably the most fascinating person I’ve ever met. She has two PhDs and a master’s degree, she’s the best whittler I know, and she prefers candies to chocolate. (Her favorite is Sour Gummy Worms.) 

I sit at a table by the window as I wait for her. By my position, I see her before she sees me. She’s wearing jeans and sneakers that squeak when she moves from the still-wet sidewalk to the concrete floor of the coffee shop. 

“Hey,” she says, smiling and putting her backpack by the table.

“Hi!” The grin on my face is impossible to hide. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. I’m gonna order and then come right back.” She does, and I like the dimples that form in her cheeks as she smiles at me. 

“What’s your day supposed to look like?”

“Well, I’m heading into the lab today, where I need to check in on some experiments, and help some PhD kids set up theirs. I have a meeting with the lab board after lunch, and then a few more meetings with some of the students I’m advising, but mostly after lunch.”

“You advise students?”

“Well, I’m going to start today.” She sips her coffee. “How long have you been up for?”

My phone reads 7:17. “Well, I woke up at about eleven yesterday, I had a gig at an office opening party, and then I went to the restaurant we gig at on Mondays, and then I went to the luthier shop and did work there until I came here to see you.”

“So it’s a twenty hour day for you?”

I hadn’t done that math. Another sip of warm coffee. “I’m fine. It’s a good day for this, too.”

“Did you hear much of the rain?” I nod. “Yeah, it turns out I left my window open last night.”

“So how long are you in town for?”

“Maybe a week? I don’t know. My sister wants me to get home soon. She’s having another baby and she wants me in town for it.” Alona lives in Arizona most of the time, with her family, about one thousand five hundred miles away, and a four hour flight to Phoenix followed by a four hour drive to the no-name town she lives in. “When do you need to get home?”

I shrug. “I have all the time in the world.”

Alona smiles. “So what’s in store for you today?”

“Well, I’m going to go home, sleep, and then teach lessons later, and then I’ve got a gig at a jazz club tonight, and then I’ve got the day off tomorrow, so-” I shrug again, trailing off.

“Nice.” Her smile is almost aggressively pleasant. “I hope it’s a good day, then.”

“Maybe I’ll see you.”

“I hope so.”

That night, during my gig, I’m playing with people who love jazz. The people I play with are complete strangers who don’t even know my name. Everyone in the room is eager for the next note, all the players anticipating me as I solo, me anticipating theirs. It’s loud here, but the music is meant to be heard here, too.

When I get home, I collapse into bed. As I lay there, pretending to sleep, I scroll through my phone. Tomorrow is my day off, and I was planning to meet up with Alex. And Alona. And I need to clean my stove. And I haven’t posted a video in months, I should do that. So much for a day off. When I breathe in, and my lungs expand, it makes my head feel better. At least I don’t need to set an alarm tomorrow.

[kylewithann]

Artificer - A Solo TTRPG Liveblog

Today I'm playing Artificer by Levoid , a game where you are a craftsman travelling the world on a quest to make a magic artifact. I felt called to play this game since I play an artificer--Lucca Ironforge--in one of my D&D campaigns. Should be a short game, but I hope that I can flesh out more of my character's backstory while playing it.

Getting Started:

All you need is a deck of cards and somewhere to chronicle your journey. First, I need to determine what kind of magic item I'm making. For Lucca, she has been commissioned to make a ranged weapon that is the first of its kind, faster and more powerful than a bow--what we know today as a gun.

Next, I need to assign a rarity for this item. This will decide how many cards I draw, which determines the length of the game. I'm deeming this to be just your standard uncommon item (as the game recommends for first time players), so I can draw 1-3 cards for my journey. I think 3 cards will be the most fun.

Now to answer the starting prompts to flesh out this story a little more.

What have you been asked to make?: A newly designed Ironforge original ranged weapon. After much brainstorming, Lucca has sketched out the schematics of a pistol.

By whom?: The Ironforge family was commissioned by a wealthy patron named Artemis Shaw to create this new weapon. However, Lucca doesn't know this. Her father passed this task along to her without letting her know the name of the benefactor.

You take stock of your equipment and realize that you do not have everything you need on hand to create this item. How much do you create with your own supplies and talents?: Lucca is a newly minted craftsman, however, she is clever and picked up on the trade quickly. Thus far, she has only made items under the supervision and with the materials of her adoptive family/mentors. This will be her first solo crafting project as well as her first journey to gather supplies.

Card #1:

The first card is the 3 of diamonds. The suit will tell me what resource Lucca needs, and the number will tell me the location. For this leg of the journey, Lucca will need a mundane component from the lair of a dangerous monster.

What material do you need from this place?: The plates from a Bulette

What is special about this specific location?: Bulettes have been known to tunnel their way through the mountains and hills near Ekrund, the city where Lucca hails from.

Lucca's Log #1:

I have no idea how to start this shit off, but fuck it, here it goes.

I figure with a project of this caliber, I should take some design notes. If this works out, maybe I'll make more of these in the future, so I'll need some sort of reference. Besides, this is my first real commission, so I should memorialize it somehow, right?

My inspiration for this project is to make something similar to the turrets that mom and I built together, but a handheld weapon. For that build, we used an alloy of iron and bulette armor to make a hardier metal able to withstand the force and rate of the projectiles fired. Unfortunately, bulette armor is not easy to come by, so I knew I would have to go out and harvest my own.

The locals told me that the ghohlbrorn--the Dwarvish term for the creature--like to burrow in the foothills nearby. After days of searching, I found one of their tunnels at nightfall. In there, I set up my trap. Using some local game that I had hunted, I set up a wide circle of meat and bones to replicate a male bulette's lure to attract potential mates. In the center where the bait lay, I set up a Snare spell. From there, all I needed to do was lie in wait.

Then I felt it: the rumbling. With a mighty roar, the beast emerged from the earth--and right into my trap. It let out a startled yelp as it was hoisted into the air. I leapt out from my hiding spot and landed a decisive blow to it's unprotected underbelly, dragging my blade along its length. After plunging my weapon deep into its flesh a few more times, the struggling stopped. My quarry had been defeated. After cutting down the rope, I began to carve into its back until I had freed my prize: a large plate from its rugged shell.

Gotta say, this shit was pretty badass.

Card #2

The second card is the ace of hearts. For the next phase of our journey, Lucca will need magic from a dark, ancient fortress that once harbored one of the great evils of this world.

What is this magic?" The fiery enchantment from an Efreeti's blade

Why is it best found in this location?: This fortress is located where the borders between the material plane and the plane of fire are the weakest. It is said a powerful and cruel efreeti once lived here many years ago before he was sought out and slain by the joint efforts of adventurers and the Fire Ashari. Some say his sword is still hidden within the fortress.

Lucca's Log #2

Note to self: In the future, don't cross through the fucking mountains.

I figured hey, it would be best to take a direct route to the home of the Fire Ashari. But sweet Moradin, what a fucking hike. All that trouble based on some hearsay.

Rumor had it that I would be able to find the sword of a fire genie in a fortress in northern Oclaria. I did some research and discovered that the efreeti can make flaming weapons. Should be perfect to power the firing mechanism of my creation. I've worked with fire enchantments before with my flamethrower turret, but I figured I should get something stronger for this new prototype. And hey, if it works out, I can use it in the future for my own weapons.

It took me several days to make it to the Fire Ashari's domain. Once there, I asked around about the palace. Most refused to answer my questions and would scurry away at the mention of the topic, but I eventually found a member of the tribe who would take me there--for a pretty copper, of course. After another couple day trek, I spied an imposing fortress of black glass on the horizon. My guide wished me luck before hurriedly departing.

I made my way inside, looking around in awe at the beautiful yet intimidating structure. It wasn't long, however, before I was accosted by a swarm of some little bastards: magma mephits. My flamethrower turret wasn't going to be effective here, so I threw down a force ballista, blasting the fuckers away. Unfortunately, I had no idea that the shits blew up when you killed them. Those burns hurt like a bitch. New plan: run the fuck away.

I let the ballista continue to do its job as I hightailed it out of there, running deeper into the palace. I made sharp twists and turns as I continued to evade the mephits who were still tracking me. The chase took me into what looked like a throne room. Just when I thought I was cornered, I spied it: a scimitar stuck deep into a pedestal.

I had no time to copy the runes here. Using all of my strength, I hoisted the blade out of its resting place and kept sprinting--not without taking a few claw marks from a mephit or two. I was feeling exhausted from the running as well as the wounds I had taken, but I somehow powered my way out of there through sheer adrenaline alone. Luckily, the mephits did not follow me further when I left the confines of the fortress. I collapsed to the ground once I made it out of the structure.

Holy shit. I did it.

Card #3:

The third and final card for this game is the 9 of Diamonds. For the last component, Lucca needs is a mundane component from a humble, homesteaded farm.

What material do you need from this place?: leather for a holster

What is special about this specific location?: The plains of Oclaria just south of Ekrund contain a farm renowned for its cattle.

Lucca's Log #3:

I had everything I needed to actually build this prototype, but there was another request for the commissioner: make something to hold the weapon at their side.

I decided to take inspiration from the scabbard and go with leather for my material. Some fellow crafters from Ekrund pointed me in the direction of a farm they had a partnership with. Apparently the leather that came from their cows was tough yet pliable--a prized commodity for any leatherworker.

This leg of the journey was the easiest one yet. Well deserved after all the shit I went through for the armor and the sword. I hitched a ride on a wagon making its way through the countryside and spent the next few days relaxing on the back of the carriage, staring up at the calm, blue sky.

The ranch was small and unassuming. Hard to believe such esteemed livestock came from here. But the people were kind and vouched for their product. They agreed to exchange some of their leather for my blacksmithing services with a humble request: make them a brand for their cattle. Considering they didn't have a forge, I had my work cut out for me. Luckily, I always carry my tools with me. And I sure as shit wasn't going to be bested by this comission.

Using their fire pit, I stoked the flames until they were barely hot enough to work the iron. Using my tongs, I was able to manipulate the metal into something akin to an insignia. It wasn't my finest work, but the farmers were ecstatic. They loaded me up with their esteemed leather and sent me on my way.

Easy fucking peasy.

Closing Prompts:

Once you have created your magic item, do you give it to your patron? Are they pleased with the craftsmanship?

...no.

Lucca's Log #4:

I'm so fucking pissed I can't see straight.

I don't blame my father. He wasn't maliciously withholding information from me--he just didn't know any better.

I had finished my creation--what I'm calling the "handgun." All that was left was to finish the final details of the holster. Dad came in with a last minute request from our patron--embellish the holster with their family crest. No problem, I thought. But it was once I laid eyes on the design presented to me, I fucking knew.

Fucking. Shaw.

The bastard didn't know he was commissioning me. For all he knew, I had died--by his hand, no less. Now his precious little project was in my hands. Cruel irony, right?

I fastened the holster to my own hip--bare of any crest--and slipped the gun inside.

That fucker won't be getting this weapon today. In fact, I'm going to use it myself.

To put a bullet right between his fucking eyes.

Closing Thoughts:

This was a shorter game than most of the solo TTRPGs I've done (minus the occasional bouts of writer's block). I had lots of fun diving into possible details for my OC's backstory. Not sure if it would hit the same if I wasn't already playing an artificer in a D&D campaign. But if you got some time to spare and wanna create your own magic items, give this system a try!

[when-all-hope-feels-lost]

oh shoot i was going to write this out the first time you asked then ~forgot~ so let’s see what i remember

basically sophie’s just some kid at public school just doing her thing, a child genius

she’s been playing the violin since she was five years old

her neighbour, mr forkle, gave lessons and when she was little she would always watch and listen from her neighbour, so much so that he offered to teach her when she was young

she was incredibly adept at it and picked skills up much faster than anyone forkle had ever seen before so he always worked hard to keep her engaged in her art

her parents never really found out as they were so busy with work they didn’t notice her going to the house next door for violin lessons

that is until she’s in middle school and joins the school orchestra

for a spring showcase, it turns out that representatives from foxfire arts institute are there, searching for young talent that they can nurture at their school

sophie goes up for a solo backer by the orchestra and plays the most beautiful rendition of the lark ascending (i live and die for hillary hahn do check out her performance here plus i think it’s a fitting piece for sophie)

the whole group did quite well but to hear such control from such a young violinist really struck the fancy of the visiting representatives

i wrote this like four years ago and left it in my drafts oopsie but this concept is still jangling around my head like one of those marble mazes. i lost the doc with my original concept but what i do remember is:

keefe on cello

biana on flute

fitz on violin

dex on viola or clarinet

tam and linh doing vocal performance and piano but also a traditional instrument like guqin maybe?

and honestly i don’t remember if there was a real plot or if i just wanted to draw the crew playing music

i like to think that sophie has horrible stage fright. like perhaps she’s fine as concert master within an orchestra but the moment she has to stand for a solo she freezes, partly from her unconventional training. she loves the music but grew up having to keep noise down lest she wake up her little sister and then showing up in this incredible school surrounded by kids born and bred on stage in performance halls and the pressure that came alongside that

one day i will write this all out i promise but that’s all i’ve got for now

someone remind me to go into detail about my music prodigy au please

[secretivemessenger]

YES JOHAN SOLOS!!!

OKAY SO MY IDEA IS Sub bottom spy male reader x Dom top Johan

Themes: Non con(or dub con if you prefer), Exhibition, age gap (kinda?Reader would be in his late 20's to early 30's and we know that Johan is 23), hate sex.

Where reader is a spy that works for The Eugenics Experiment, he is merciless and doesn't show much emotion making him emotionless, he also doesn't talk much in fear of letting anything slip out accidentally.

Johan knows about him as he appeared when Anna was telling about her experience while being away from Johan and their mom

Reader keeps an eye on Johan at all times until one day he lost sight of Johan, he had never lost sight of someone just like that, he was looking everywhere for any signs of Johan when he suddenly gets drugged.

He wakes up in a room and the rest is history !!!

A Spy’s Mistake

Top johan x spy male reader

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Rough sex! No prep! Blood?! Non consensual! Bondage! Drug use! Somnophilia! Aphrodisiacs! Violence!

100+ Event

You were supposed to keep him is sight , that was the sole purpose of your mission but you somehow managed to mess it up

He was right there and the next thing you know he was not there anymore , it shocked you so much you didn’t notice the figure behind you

And the next thing you know everything was turning black as you were injected with something

There you were the one who was sent to look out for Johan , instead of watching him you were right under him on his basement floor , oh for how long he wanted to do this make you think you were doing such good job spying on him , when in reality he was aware of it the whole time

The drug he gave you was quite strong it should be able to keep you down for sometime , while in you sleeping state you were more open and vulnerable for him , the way you look laying there on the ground peacefully he can’t help but want to ruin it all

Johan moved your body making you sit up with your back against the wall , he grabbed a rope that was hanging from the sealling and tied your hand on-top of your head , once you were ready for him he smiled looking at you sitting there so beautifully for him

But there was no time to waste , his hands grabbed on your pants and underwear slowly pulling them down until your lower half is completely naked , he took your cock into his hands and started fisting it and in no time he was moving his hands up and down your now fully hard cock

You were squirming in your sleep moans slipped out of your mouth as pre cum leaked out of your cock , his hands moved at a faster pace now that his hands are covered in your pre cum

The wet sounds his hands are making out of your cock mixed together with your cries of pleasure , you were still unconscious so your body was extra sensitive “who would’ve thought a spy can be this slutty”

Little by little you were coming back to conciseness , your head hurts like hell , what happened is the question that was repeating in your head , when you finally managed to open your eyes fully you saw him

There he was sitting right infront of you “did you rest well sleeping princess , or should i say sleeping prince?” You looked down at him in shock , you were even more shocked looking at your cum covered stomach

“Johan liebert what do you think your doing” you glared down at him “what a sharp eyes you have i wonder how would they look like filled with tears” he said smiling at you completely ignoring your questions

You tsked at him , and when you wanted to move you noticed your hands tied up together , no matter how hard you tried ripping the rope it never worked “careful now you could hurt yourself” he said still with a smile on his face

You ignored him before wincing in pain as it rips a bit through your skin drawing blood , “this is getting boring” he said which made you look at him confused before it turned to shock , his fingers sneaked down near your hole ready to penetrate you at any second

You immediate reaction was to move your legs and deliver a hard kick to his face , his face turned to the other direction because of the strength of the kick , you moved your other leg to kick him a second time but he stopped it with his hands “I’m not gonna fall for this twice”

He’s looking down on you not so amused anymore out of nowhere he grabbed a needle and got it near you thighs , you panicked and you moved your other legs delivering multiple kicks to his now bruised face , but he ignored you and grabbed one of your legs and injected the liquid in your thighs

It had immediate reaction , your body stopped moving completely before it began rising in heat your cock rock hard , it’s not that hard to guess what he injected you with , your mind became all clouded making you unable to think straight

“I wanted to go easy on you but you leave me no choice” he said looking at you with a poker face , he grabbed your body and turned you around , you looked back at him giving him death stares but it’s hard to take it seriously when your face is flushed dark pink

He grabbed your hair harshly and slammed your face hard onto the stone wall , you groaned in pain as you felt blood seeping out of your mouth , the Aphrodisiacs now taking full effect on you making you stand back helpless while your body tremble’s

You could hear sound of Johan unbuckling his pants , you wanted to just run away but your body refused to move and the bone crushing grip he had on your face continued to give you constant pain , When you thought all of that was too much , you didn’t know about what awaits you

You widened your eyes , your back arched as you cried out in pain , out of nowhere Johan plugged his cock inside your tight hole , with no preparation he stretched your hole as far as it can get , you felt like it’s going to rip you apart split you in half

He didn’t give you a chance to adjust as he started thrusting , it was very hard to move in your tight hole because there is no lubricant to make the movements sloppy but he didn’t care , he had you sobbing a stream of tears falls out of your eyes , you can feel your hole throbbing in pain

The mixture of pain because of Johan’s hard thrusts and pleasure because of the still active Aphrodisiacs had your body and mind going crazy , you’ve never done something like this and you don’t like it

No matter how much you begged for him so stop he never did instead he continued with his rough thrusts , pulling out until only the tip is inside before thrusting all the way in again and repeat making You chock on your own blood

You squeezed as tight as you can around him making Johan groan at your tightness , he moved his other hand to your still hard cock and started pumping it in rhythm with his thrusts , His moves are better now that his pre cum painted your insides making his thrusts a bit more bearable , his hands moved impossibly faster making you gasp and scream as you came all over yourself

Because of the Aphrodisiacs your body was too sensitive , you just came but you felt like you could cum a second time , and you could tell Johan was about too cum because of his cock twitching inside of you

Your body felt a little better now so you started to squirm around trying to set yourself free still not ready too give up “I thought you would’ve learned the first time , looks like i was wrong” he said looking at you directly in the eyes as you looked back right at him

He softened his grip on your face and instead pulled hard on your hair “let’s see how long till you break” he whispered near your ear , you groaned before glaring daggers at him “never , once im out of here your head will be the first thing i come after” you said making him chuckle “we’ll see” he said as he continued to fuck you into oblivion

[writing-wh0re]

Billy Hargrove smut where he rough fucks reader in his car 🤤🤤

All writings will be #writing-wh0re-requests  Likes are great but feedback is golden - Open to all feedback, I know there is room for improvement. 

Hope this fic is what you wanted Anon! Keep the requests coming xx

*FIRST SMUT FIC!!* 

Y/N (YOUR NAME) Y/S/N (Your Siblings Name)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Word Count: 2,111k 

Warnings: Smut 18+, Explicit Language, Daddy Kink (whoops), Slight Praise Kink, Fingering, Vaginal Intercourse, Unprotected Sex, Oral (female receiving), Angst(?), Arguments. 

Summary: After forgetting your three year anniversary, Billy attempts to make it up to you.

I was walking down the street, hearing the music pumping through the wind as I spotted it. 

Billy’s blue 1979 Camaro sitting in Carol Perkins driveway. I made my way up to the car, feeling the hood still warm, meaning Billy couldn’t have been here for that long. 

“Fucking prick.” I mumble as I start my shuffle and weave through fellow classmates to find Billy. 

“Y/N, Billy didn’t mention you’d be coming? If I had known I would have sent you a dress code sheet.” Carol Perkins states holding her red solo cup against her shoulder. I look down on my outfit quickly, black converse, leather skirt and dark green lace bodysuit. I raise an eyebrow as I look at  Carol’s outfit, sucking my teeth as I roll my eyes. 

Carol drives me insane, she hasn’t liked me from the minute Billy and I started dating and to be honest, the feeling is mutual. Between her bitchy comments and her backhanded compliments, I couldn’t care less about her. 

“Dress code sheets would have been handy because under dressing as a hostess is embarrassing.” I watch as Carol scoffs, looking at Nicole beside her who has a disgust written all over her facial expression. 

“Drink, Drink, Drink, Drink.”

I follow the chanting to the back patio, leaving Carol and Nicole to mumble between themselves. I spot Billy doing his famous keg stand, surrounded by almost all the boys from the football team cheering him on. I watch as Billy completes his keg stand, his shirt open, beer coating his chest causing it to glisten in the light. I lick my lips at the sight, feeling wetness starting to pool between my legs, I shake the thoughts from my head. 

‘Remember why you’re mad at him.’ I remind myself, disliking that my body has such a reaction to him.

I watch as a girl walks up to him, placing her hand on his chest as she whispers in his ear, causing him to bite his lip and chuckle. I lean against the support beam as I watch the scene unfold, Billy turning the girl down as she rolls her eyes and attempts a new technique, only to receive the same result. The girl struts away annoyed as I walk over to Billy, watching as he tenses slightly, knowing he’s fucked up. 

“Hi princess, what ar-” 

“Fuck you Billy Hargrove.” Billy, grabs my forearm and pulls me into him, our chests bumping into each other as he narrows his eyes at me, smirking devilishly. 

“Want to say that again princess?” 

I pull myself out of his grip as I shove him backwards, causing him to chuckle as he looks over to Tommy. 

“I think she’s mad at me, don’t you think Hagan?” Billy chuckles as I whip around to Tommy, holding my index finger up. 

“If you know what’s good for you Hagan, you’ll walk away.” I threaten as Tommy shakes his head at us, putting his hands up in defense and walking back to the house. 

“Honestly Billy, I had to find out you were here from Y/S/N and Max!” 

“That’s the last time I tell Max anything.” Billy says walking towards me as I huff. 

“Not the point, do you remember what today is? Does today have any importance to you?” 

I watch as Billy puts his head down sighing shuffling around in his pocket as he pulls out a cigarette lighting it and taking a draw before answering me. 

“Did you fail a huge test today? Is it a birthday?” Billy questions as I scoff. 

“God, you’re such a prick you know that.” I turn to walk away from Billy feeling sadness fill my chest as I see a small crowd watching our interaction. 

“So what, you’re just not going to tell me why you’re mad at me? I have to play some sort of guessing game? Why did you even come here Y/N, you hate parties.” 

“I think you’re just being a dick on purpose now, have a reputation to keep up?” I question gesturing to the small crowd. “It’s our fucking three year anniversary dickwad!” I yell watching as realisation hits Billy. “And also, I don’t hate parties, I hate parties at Carol’s or parties I'm not invited to, which makes me, us, look fucking ridicolous.” 

I hear a few oo’s and oh’s from the small crowd as Billy forms two fists, anger boiling inside him. 

“Enjoying the show? Get the fuck out of here!” Billy yells to the crowd as they quickly disperse. “Princess, Tommy invited me tonight and I forgot.” 

“That’s exactly what I want to hear, you forgot.” I cross my arms over my chest watching as Billy’s eyes trail over my chest, his eyes lingering as they track down my body, Billy closing the distance between us as he runs his fingers up and down my arm. 

“Did you wear this, all for me?” Billy asks seductively as goosebumps prick my skin, a soft sigh falling from my lips. Billy moves closer, his lips ghosting mine as I feel my eyes flutter closed. 

‘No.’ I think to myself as I pull back. 

“Enjoy your party Billy.” I hear Billy groan in annoyance as I turn to walk away, feeling him grab my hand and rush ahead of me, pulling me behind him. 

“Billy.” 

“What are you doing?” 

All my protests fall on deaf ears as Billy and I shuffle through the bodies and make it outside. 

“Get in.” I raise an eyebrow and notice Billy unlock his car as I scoff. 

“I’ll walk home.” 

“It wasn’t a fucking question Y/N, get in the car and stop being a brat.” I huff as I walk to the passenger side and slip into the leather seat, Billy falling into the drivers as he starts the car and reverses out. 

“You better be taking me home.” 

I hear him chuckle as he takes the corners fast, his car engine roaring through the streets as he continues to drive, my mind not knowing the surroundings due to the blanket of darkness. After roughly five minutes, he parks the car on the side of the deserted back road, between a small clearing of trees. Billy gets out of the car as I look around at our surroundings, nothing but trees, silence and darkness. He opens my door as I look up at him confused. 

“Get in the back.” 

I smirk, licking my lips as I sit forward in my seat slightly, giving Billy the perfect view of my cleavage. “You expect us to have sex here?” I question as Billy huffs, grabbing my wrist and pulling me up to his chest. 

“I have to make it up to you babygirl, now get in the backseat.” 

I open the door and crawl into the backseat, sitting and facing the open door as Billy grabs ahold of my ankles from my outstretched legs, swiftly pulling me closer to him. I feel my breath quicken as he takes off his button up shirt, exposing his toned torso as I bite my lip. I keep my eyes on him as he wiggles my skirt to just above my hips, chuckling to himself as I feel heat cover my cheeks. 

“And I wonder who made you drip like this baby girl.” Billy says as his index finger traces over the dark green lace of the body suit as a small whimper falls from my lips. 

“I asked you a question.” 

“You did daddy.” I whisper as he smirks, kissing my inner thighs, ghosting over my heat as I sigh. 

“Good girl.” 

I feel Billy pull the lace bodysuit to the side as his finger traces small circles around my clit, causing soft moans to fill the air. 

“You can be as loud as you want princess, no one is around to hear us.” 

Billy slides a finger into my tight, dripping pussy as I cup my boobs toying with my nipples. He picks up the pace slightly, adding another finger and curling it upwards as I arch my back. 

“Fuck.” 

I hear Billy moan as his tongue slides over my throbbing clit, my back arching off the leather as I moan in pleasure, my fingers running through his hair as he continues to flick his tongue on my sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Jesus Daddy.” I moan as we lock eyes with each other, causing Billy to moan sending vibrations all over my clit, his fingers picking up their pace. I feel Billy wrap his lips around my swollen clit, sucking softly as I feel the coil inside me tighten as I get closer and closer to my release. 

“Just like that, oh fuck, I’m going to cum.” I warn as Billy stops abruptly, smirking at me as I groan in annoyance at the loss of pleasure. 

“You only get to cum on my dick baby girl.” 

I run my hand down my body to play with my clit, wanting to get back to feeling some sort of pleasure as Billy slaps my hand away. I watch as he swiftly takes off his belt, undoing his jeans and sliding them down only slightly, allowing his dick to spring free, slapping against his stomach as I lick my lips. 

“Move back.” Billy instructs as I shuffle backwards eagerily, allowing for him to get into the car. 

Billy kneels on the leather seat, pulling me closer by my hips as he lines himself up against my pussy, sliding right into place as moans fill the air of the car. 

“Fucking made for me.” Billy praises as he starts to move his hips, not giving me much time to adjust to his size. 

“God, you’re so fucking big.” I moan as Billy raises my legs up to rest against his chest, feet either side of his face, the new angle allowing for him to go deeper. 

Billy picks up his pace, throwing his head back in pleasure as I arch my back. 

“Fuck Y/N.” 

“Daddy.” 

Billy lets go of my legs as he slides out, grabbing my hips as I raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Ass up.” Billy commands as I oblige, turning over, face against the leather, ass in the air as Billy slaps the supple skin. “God, you’re hot.” He praises as I moan softly, feeling him run the tip of his dick around in circles on my clit before sliding deep into my pussy. “Fuck, you’re so tight baby.” 

I moan into the leather as Billy starts to rock his hips into mine, faster and deeper in the new position. 

“Just like that.” I say as Billy grabs a fistfull of my hair, pulling me up slightly as he rubs circles on my clit causing me to cry out in pleasure.

“Are you going to cum for me princess? Cover my dick in cum?” 

I feel the coil tighten again, my eyes squeezing shut as I finally feel it snap, my body flooding with tingles as I cum all over Billy’s dick, my legs trembling as moans and profanities fall from my lips. I feel Billy’s thrusts grow sloppy as he reaches his high, cumming inside of me. 

Billy trails kisses from the top of my ass to my shoulder. 

“Happy Anniversary Princess.” Billy whispers, kissing my neck as he shuffles out of the car to adjust his clothing. 

I shuffle around in the car, wiggling my skirt back down and fixing my body suit as I step out of the car into the slight breeze of summer air. 

“I am still mad at you a little.” I mumble as Billy tuts, shaking his head. 

“Of course you are.” 

“But, that did make up for a little part of it.” I wink as Billy smirks, cupping my face and kissing me. My heart fills with love at the soft affectionate side of Billy.

“I love you Y/N.” 

“I love you too.” 

“I better get you home before your dad loses his shit at me.” Billy chuckles as I nod. 

“Sneak up through the window and spend the night?” I ask as I get into the passenger seat, Billy having made his way to the drivers side. I watch as Billy tosses up the idea as I smirk, placing my hand on his knee. 

“I haven’t been able to give you anything for our anniversary yet.” I whisper as my hand moves up his thigh, brushing against his dick as his breathing grows heavy. 

“You have me wrapped around your finger princess and you know it.” Billy smirks as he starts the car and begins the drive to my home. 

It’s going to be a sleepless night.