#and i keep telling myself i don’t care but no one at work uses they/them for me even tho its on my nametag

[fuck-customers]

I just need to vent about something that happened last week.

I work for an Airline at a small airport. Couple weeks ago, we had a flight come in, pretty late due to delays in the plane’s route. When it landed, it was super late, and the Pilots were going to time out. For some reason the Airport’s Weather system was down

Ops told us to proceed as normal. Pilots didn’t notify us anything was wrong until the end. We had all the bags loaded and passengers on and THEN they decide to tell us something is wrong :)))

Pilots time out, and the flight is pushed back to the next morning and we have to remove all the bags and passengers. Reaccommodate or refund those that want those options.

We unloaded the bags, and my coworker takes them to the baggage carousel. Then I go help unload the plane. Eventually it comes down to the wheelchair passengers, who always come off last. I took care of 5 of them. One at a time. Took them to the baggage carousel helped them get their bags, and take them to their cars separately. All 5, by myself

That matters because, once I help the final wheelchair passenger, my coworker that was putting the bags on the carousel takes off the bags that weren’t picked up, and drives them to our office so we can contact the passengers about their bags so they can get them.

As I come back inside after helping the final wheelchair passenger to their car, I hear a shrill yell from a woman standing by the Carousel. She yelled out to me asking where her bag was. I TRIED to tell her that after a bag has been on the carousel too long we take it off and back to our office. I say tried because she kept cutting me off yelling “Where’s my bag?”

This woman, who was not a wheelchair passenger, and was sitting in the front of the plane, so she was one of the FIRST to get off the plane, did not make it to baggage claim in time to get her bag. In the time it took to unload all 155 Passengers including the 5 Wheelchairs I did on my own at the VERY END, she was the only one not able to get her bags.

At this point it was 2 AM, I had been up since 6 AM, I was so close to just telling her to fuck off. But I bit my tongue and kept a professional attitude.

Once I was able to tell her that it’s being taken to our office, and if she follows me to the ticket counter I can help her. And she starts going off on me, asking why couldn’t we just leave it there. Why we take it back to the office, don’t we know they’re coming?

I did my best to keep calm and tell her that if she just comes with me to the ticket counter I can give her her bag.

I tried to explain our policy at the airport. First, we can’t just leave bags unattended, because we have to treat it as a threat or it could get stolen.

Then she asked why we can’t just pull it off and stand there with it. They do it at X Airport that is 10 times larger with 20 time more employees.

I explained to her we are not allowed to, it is airport policy and we could lose our SIDA privileges and even get a ticket. And on top of that, we are a team of 6 fucking people. We do not have the man power.

Eventually we make it back to the counter. I tell her to wait there as I go into the back to find her bag. I’m going through the bags left behind, I’m back there for less than a minute. Then comes this loud banging on the door.

She walked behind the ticket counter, and started slamming on the door so she could get her bag. She couldn’t even wait the 2 minutes it took me to find it.

I grab it, then go to the door she’s slamming. I open it and she almost hits me because she’s mid bang.

I ask her very politely not to do that or I will have to call the police. She just scoffs and asks for her bag. I ask for her ID to confirm the bag is hers, and she’s about to lose it. She was ready to blow and I was very much done with the situation. She started going off about how bad this airport was and how she’s going to blast us on social media.

She kept asking why we could take her bag to the back but not have anyone watch it at the carousel like Airport X does. I told her what I did before, We are not allowed to, it is airport Policy, and we don’t have the man power.

She said “No you just don’t care”

I was 🤏 this close to blowing up on her. I wanted so badly to lay into her. But I didn’t. I just kept calm, centered myself, and just let her go on with her day. Thankfully there were other passengers that saw and were understanding and helpful to me.

Anyway once that was all done I got her itinerary number and had her black listed from our airline. :)

I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but please for the love of god, if your flight gets canceled, don’t take it out on the ground crew. We want you gone just as badly as you do. We lose money on canceled flights, we lose hours, and it just makes our lives harder.

If you know anyone that acts like the ground crew has ANY control over the operations of the airline and abuses them, please slap some sense into them.

Posted by admin Rodney

[babsaros]

i figured this week was gonna cause a meltdown, i just hoped i’d make it til friday :/

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Sometimes u have to go to an arcade in the middle of the workday to not go insane

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[mattybsgroupie]

pretty | matt sturniolo

contents: established relationship; handjob (m receiving); praising; use of “y/n”; sub!matt

- ♡ -

notes: i woke up insanely horny and ive been thinking about matt all week and how much i want to take care of him, praise him, give all the love and care he needs :( it’s a really short one but i hope you enjoy - not proofread as usual, also i made a pinned post so yall might wanna check it out ♡

- ♡ -

“y/n” i heard matt calling, snapping me out of my thoughts. we were laying down on the couch, my head resting on his shoulder as we scrolled mindlessly on our phones “do you think i’m pretty?”

“what?” i said, completely caught off guard. “what do you mean matt?”

“like… i know i’m not the funniest or smartest guy but i always thought i was good looking” he started, locking his phone screen and tossing it away “but you know what i’m talking about, you saw it didn’t you?”

of course i did - and he was right being beyond pissed by it.

“babe, you are the funniest and the smartest guy i know” i moved myself, now being able to fully face him as i cupped his cheeks, a pout appearing on matt’s lips. “you’re also the toughest” i said, kissing him playfully as he giggled.

“the strongest…” i whispered in his ear, my fingertips traveling through his neck “the hottest” i couldn’t help but kissing his jaw as i said it, his growing beard tickling my skin. “you’re the most handsome, babe”

“you want me to show how pretty you are?” i finally stopped the kisses, my left hand pressing on his tummy under the white shirt he was wearing. my digits kept on running down matt’s body, caressing every inch of skin i could get.

“you don’t have to” he smiled, putting a strand of hair behind my ear and fixing the mess my hair was after spending the whole night against the couch. “don’t be silly”

“i’m not!” i frowned my eyebrows and widened my eyes, staring at him before landing by his waistband, tent starting to show on his pants.

“and i dont think this guy think it’s silly, does he?” i joked about how sensitive matt was, getting worked up from the slightest praise. he rolled his eyes, pretending not to notice.

“shall we take this off?” i asked, tugging the cloth away. matt’s attitude broke down in a second, nodding eagerly as he lift his hips, allowing me to pull his pants down. with his half-hard cock exposed, i then touched the hem of his shirt, silently asking for permission.

matt quickly understood and removed his last piece of clothing, totally naked. i smiled before kissing him, matt’s embarrassment completely washing away and being replaced by desperation. his palms met my covered breasts, massaging it before i pulled away from the kiss, my lips focused on marking his neck. i could hear matt’s breathing getting heavier, grip on my boobs getting stronger.

“yes, good boy” i cooed, receiving a muffled groan in response. “huh? what is it baby, you like being my good boy?”

“y-yeah, fuck” matt said, covering his eyes with his forearm, once again getting shy. i gently removed it, making him look at me in the eyes.

“look at this, how pretty you are, hm?” i said, now staring at his full hard-on, matt’s dick almost slapping on his belly “i love your tattoos, have i told you that?” i tried to distract him while my hand brushed over his cock, barely touching it. “makes you look even tougher”

“i’m not tough- ah!” he whined as i cupped his balls, slightly caressing them.

“i can tell, babe” i giggled, “can i?”

“please” he begged, puppy eyes watering “touch me, please”

“how can you say you’re not pretty? i want you to keep looking, babe. be a good boy for me alright?” i commanded, my fingers wrapping around matt’s length, slowly starting to pump him. “look at your cock, i cant barely close my fist, you’re so big” i kissed his collarbones as i praised him, making sure he kept his eyes on my hand jerking him off. matt twitched inside my fist, holding his hips from bucking forward.

“love that huge cock inside of me matt, you stretch me so well” i moved thumb to his tip, pre-cum leaking from his slit as i circled it. “oh, you’re already leaking?” i said, seeing how wet he was just from me fastening my pace.

“shit y/n i’m sorry i-” i shushed him, “shhh, i don’t wanna hear anything other than your moans”. matt gave up on trying to hold his sounds, lower lip finally getting a break after being bitten for the last ten minutes. his free hand went to my thigh, nails digging strong into my skin. his whines turned to whimpers, spasms taking over his body.

“what is it babe? wanna cum?” i asked, “i will only let you if you repeat what i say” he turned his head aside, looking at me eagerly. “i’m pretty”.

“y/n… c’mon, f-fuck” matt rolled his eyes, embarrassment preventing him to speak out loud. i gradually stopped the movements with my hand - matt knew he had to say it if he wanted to cum. “i-im… pretty”

“i’m so strong” i started pumping him once again, tightening my grip around his length.

“i’m so strong” matt repeated, not so shy anymore. “what else are you baby?”

“i’m… handsome” it sounded like a question, as if he wanted me to reassure he was right. “and i’m… a good boy”.

“yes, yes you are, sweetie” i cooed, knowing his aching cock wasn’t gonna let him form any other sentences. “gonna cum for me?”

“can i? please?” i clenched my eyes, letting him speak. “please c-cum for you, need it so bad”. i nodded and heard his whimpers as he finally relaxed his body, white ropes of cum from his release covering my fist and his lower belly, matt’s chest rising as he panted heavily. i finally got back to my former position, head resting on his shoulder as matt came back to his senses and i kept on praising him on how good he was.

“you did so good for me”

“thank you” matt said under his breath, a smiling finally appearing on his blushed face. “am i really everything you said? even the funniest?” he giggled, soon hovering his arm over my shoulder, grabbing me on a hug as i made myself comfortable in his embrace.

“yes you are, matthew!” i rolled my eyes before giving in and laughing with him, relieved that the only thing my boy needed was a reminder on how pretty he was.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler

[theelvishfiddler]

AN ARTIST'S GUIDE TO HANDS

No, sorry it's actually not an artist's guide to drawing hands. Those are just warmup studies (which I'll talk about in this post.)

This is a guide to Your Hands and how to take care of them when making art.

No one ever sits down and teaches artists how to take care of their hands. They didn’t even teach me this while I was in art college. This is just what I've learned myself through years of pain and scouring the internet for advice.

This is going to be a long one and geared towards illustrative traditional/digital/pen/pencil artists specifically, but artists of other mediums and crafts should take care of their hands too! Well, we all should take care of our bodies in general, but this is about hands.

(advice is below the read more)

First off I'm not a professional or anyone with actual medical advice. I'm just some guy with chronic hand pain who makes art. This advice is free for you to use or discard.

WARMUPS!

Ever sit down in the morning to draw and wonder why your art is so stiff and looks so much worse than what you were drawing last night? It's because you didn't warm up!

You know how for physical sports they all warmup and do stretches before getting into the actual sport. To prevent injuries and all that? Yeah, it's good to do that for art too.

One way to warmup is to just draw lines. Try to keep them as straight as you can. Going up and down and diagonal. Draw squares. Big squares. Small squares. Circles! You are warming up, keep it loose and relaxed! Basically just scribble away.

(examples. I usually keep going until there is no paper white left. This can double as practice for drawing straight lines without a ruler, which is a great skill to have when freehand city drawing.)

Before hopping right into drawing people you can try doing some quick gesture drawings. Line of Action has timed sessions with a large variety of clothed or nude models. I usually do the 30 min class as it has a nice balance of short and long timed poses. The point isn't to draw nice art, but to warm up. Try to get the basic form down, not the details. I find that doing a full class session can really help my drawings feel more loose and grounded in reality for the rest of the day.

Some examples I found in my folders. I suggest looking into what a line of action (not the site) is and giving it a try with some of the studies!

COOLDOWNS!

For sports it's to return your body back to your everyday baseline after a workout.

Example; you are working on a big project! A masterpiece! It's detailed and cool! You have been focusing on this for hours and drawing so intensely. But you need to stop working for the day.

A cooldown is for winding down out of the go go go mindset. Put away the big project and do a couple small doodles and sketches. You are relaxing your hand and letting it stretch out. Keep the sketches loose. Let the art happen slowly. Don't polish anything, that can happen another day. Just ease yourself out of drawing.

...

Cool! Now we get into the meat of this thing.

HAND PAIN

How to avoid it and how to manage it if you already have it.

I love you artists and creatives, I am begging you to please take care of your most important creative tools. I really don't want this to sound like scare tactics like "oooh you better do this or blah blah!" Nope. I just had to learn all this the hard way and I'm extremely passionate about it.

Take this advice or don’t ╮(ﾟ～ﾟ;)╭ I can't tell you what to do, I'm not your dad

Adjustments and Small Solutions

If you are feeling physical discomfort while drawing there are many different solutions to try! Here are some suggestions that may or may not work for you.

Hold your pencil more loosely. Stop gripping that thang so tightly!!! Relax that hand! They make these… squishy pen grip things... I think they are called Adaptive Pencil Grips or Adaptive Writing/Drawing Aids? They stop your hand from being all cramped up by making your drawing tool wider. It's going to take a bit of time to adjust to drawing with it, but it's worth it for those who hold pencils too tightly.

Don't press as heavily. For traditional art, if you find yourself pressing really hard to get darker lines try moving to a softer pencil. Most standard pencils are HB, the B pencils have softer graphite. Experiment until you find the right one for you. For Digital, adjust your pressure settings so you don't have to press as hard to get thicker lines. You should not be pressing so hard all the time, it wears out both your hand and your tablet! It takes a bit of time to adapt to pencil or pressure changes. Try doing some unimportant sketches, they don't have to be good. You are just training your hand and mind to adjust using less pressure.

Draw with your arm and not your wrist! It's small repetitive motions that cause the most strain. You probably hear this one a lot, what does it even mean? It means moving your arm with the motions of your line, and trying not to make too many tiny movements with your just your fingers or wrist. This one is hard! It takes time and conscious thought to change the habit. Tips? Work bigger. Zoom in more. Use bigger sheets of paper.

(Motions exaggerated for a clearer example)

Change the angle of your drawing surface. They make angled tablet holders, angled desks, angled desktop raisers. Experiment, find and angle that is comfortable and the one that causes the least pain. (It's also good to make sure you don't have to hold your head at an uncomfortable angle when drawing. Staring straight down or hunching over a paper flat on the table can cause pain!)

Compression Glove? Wrist brace/tensioners? Some folks use them and I've been thinking of getting one for years now. I can't give advice on this one, because I don't have experience with it. Look into it if you want!

Managing Pain

First things first.

IF YOUR HANDS START TO HURT WHILE YOU ARE DRAWING. STOP! Put the pencil/pen/paintbrush/whatever down. The art will still be there for you to continue tomorrow.

I know from experience that it's extremely hard to pull away when you are hyper focused on an art piece. It's hard to remember all sorts of basic needs like food or bathroom when hyper focused. But you Need to stop when you feel that pain. (Preferably even before the pain…)

Take Breaks! Let your hands rest when you can. Just like a machine, if you don't schedule maintenance, the machine will schedule maintenance for you. Often that means having to wait a few days for it to return to functional. Best to take a day off from heavy usage or take an occasional 30 min break throughout the day to let your hands rest.

Stretching is important! Full body stretches are good; your arms, shoulders, neck, and spine are all connected, but I'm specifically talking about HAND and wrist stretching. There are a lot of stretches and massages for carpal tunnel and arthritis out there. I find they work for hand pain in general. Move into and out of each stretch slowly. Do not push a stretch if it hurts!! Be gentle!!

I am not a qualified professional and I will not be giving out specific stretches (that is beyond my personal comfort level). There are other artists out there who have made helpful stretching info-graphics which are cool, but I will not be because i don't want to be responsible for someone accidentally hurting themself. Ask your doctor for stretches & advice or look some up on your own.

Don't feel bad about forgetting to stretch frequently! Of course it is good to do it regularly and frequently, but I would be a hypocrite if I said that I remember to stretch daily. Setting timers for stop and stretch sessions can work for some people, but also doing stretches whenever you remember is fine! If you are sitting on the toilet you can idly do some hand stretches. On the bus? Laying in bed? At the beach? Do a couple stretches! Even just once a week is better than… nonce a week.

Using Cold or Heat to treat pain. If you really overdid it, put your hands in some cold water or wrap a cloth around an ice pack and apply it to your hand. Cold works best for me, but warmth works for others. This is just pain reduction and reducing inflammation from overuse! This is not a permanent solution.

If your hand hurts a lot! Frequently! Talk to your doctor? Idk mine has never given real advice. Just gently poked my hand and told me there isn't much to be done about it :/ but there are really good doctors out there who will care and give helpful advice!

Again. IF IT HURTS TO CONTINUE DRAWING. STOP DRAWING! This is not a "no pain no gain" type situation. Drawing so much that you hurt yourself isn't noble, it's just… limiting yourself. You only get one set of hands. These things are very handy to have.

Other Advice

Things I couldn't figure out how to fit into the earlier sections.

Your other hand can't handle the strain! Lets say you hurt your drawing hand... the other hand is right there free to use for art. Right? Wrong. Your other hand can't keep up with the demand, it hasn't been trained to the same extent as your dominant hand, it does not have the built up muscle. If you want to use that hand for drawing you are going to have to use it s l o w l y and train it bit by bit over a long period of time. When I tore a tendon in my right hand I decided to just keep drawing with my left and I got Really Good at it. It only took like two months before my left hand hurt too much to move. Then I had 0 functioning hands to pull up my pants. Not fun!!

People who draw on phones. That is extremely impressive! I'm amazed by the things people can create on such a small space. But phone artists are the ones I see most frequently mentioning hand pain. please please please make sure you are taking breaks. Would a stylus work instead of using a finger?

Outside of Drawing. Sometimes it's things outside of drawing that are causing the pain. For me there are multiple sources, but I also have tiny baby hands. Holding a phone too long causes pain. The handheld mode for my Switch causes A Lot of pain. The way my hand rests while typing on my laptop hurts! Playing tense videogames for too long hurts! Find the source of your pain and make some changes. The same things will apply to most; take regular breaks, do some stretches, and find soft things to prop up or rest your arms on.

Change your Artstyle. This one is more of a last resort. You might have to change your art style if you are getting sharp pains every time you draw. I loved drawing tight clean lines and many small fancy details, but drawing like that left me in so much pain at the end of the day. In 2023 I had to take the better part of year off from illustrations just to learn how to sketch and draw more loosely. I had to learn how to be gentle. To stop gripping my pencil so tightly. Learn! Adapt! You might discover a new style that you love even more!

A lot of this stuff gets more complicated in a work setting where you have to draw fast and long in order to get paid. Things like reducing your workload can help, but that can be... financially rough. But outside of that, it’s ok to be a slow artist. Going full steam and hurting yourself is not worth it.

Aaaaaanyway, thats all folks. Today's rant brought to you by me! The guy with chronic hand pain who always forgets to stretch! The guy who got frustrated with a sketch yesterday and decided to push to keep drawing for just one more hour! The guy who woke up this morning and had to spend 2 hours massaging and stretching their hands. The guy who probably shouldn't have typed all of this out because ooww ow ouch

If your hands do hurt, it's going to be ok! You don't need to be a speed demon who draws all the time. It's ok to take your time and take frequent breaks. You are going to do great things! Just be gentle with yourself...

[hoe4hotchner]

Heyy! I had this idea with hotch

Imagine he’s dating a doctor but he hasn’t told anyone but Dave yet. And remember the fisher king episode when Spencer jumps from that bomb? So during a case hotch jumps from a bomb (he’s fine but he goes to the hospital anyway to check if everything is okay) and while he and the team is waiting on the doctor to check his wounds, guess who shows up? His furious girlfriend ready to freak out about her boyfriend dangerous work. And hotch just stays quiet and listens to her/them (you choose) and the team is just there watching their grumpy scary boss being scolded like a little kid.

Idk why but I loved the idea of the scary grumpy unit chief hotch being so whipped for his partner that he doesn’t even argue when she’s/they're mad at him :)

I love this idea!!! I had to stop myself I could've made it into a whole thing hehehe.

A/N: I swear to god me and a few CM writers had this discussion years ago and I don't remember what the conclusion of Hotch's middle name ended up being. If anyone remembers please remind me ;)

Link to my requests

The team sat in the exam room, all tense after the recent case. Hotch seated on the bed in the middle, waiting to be discharged. Except for a few burn wounds on his right arm, he was otherwise fine.

“You know, Hotch, you could’ve just asked for a day off. Jumping on a bomb seems a bit extreme,” Morgan chuckled, breaking the silence while trying to lighten the mood.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hotch replied, his voice stoic as usual.

Suddenly, a door at the end of the hall burst open, and a voice echoed through the corridor. “AARON JAMES HOTCHNER!” You stormed into his room, eyes blazing with fury. “What on earth were you thinking?”

Before Hotch had the chance to respond, you continued, “Jumping on a bomb? Do you have any idea how reckless that was? You could’ve been killed!”

“Did she just call him Aaron?” Emily whispered to JJ.

“I think she did,” JJ murmured back, both of them wide-eyed.

Rossi tried to stifle a grin, while the rest of the team watched in shock, realizing for the first time that Hotch was dating a doctor.

“And don’t you dare tell me it was part of the job! Your job is to stay alive so you can come home in one piece, not to play hero with your life!” You sighed, your anger giving way to worry. “Aaron, please… I can’t keep doing this if you’re going to keep risking your life like this. I need you to be careful.”

Hotch finally spoke, his voice low and sincere. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll be more careful, I promise.” You hugged him, relieved that he was okay.

The team exchanged glances, a mixture of surprise and amusement on their faces. This was a side of Aaron Hotchner they’ve never seen before.

“You better be,” you said firmly. “And next time, you call me as soon as you’re in the hospital. I don’t want to hear about it from someone else.”

You give him a pointed look before exiting the room, leaving the team in stunned silence.

After a moment, Morgan was the first to break the quiet. “Hotch, you didn’t tell us you were dating a doctor,” he said with a grin on his lips.

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Not relevant?” Emily chimed in, in disbelief. “Hotch, they just chewed you out in front of the whole team. I think it’s pretty relevant.”

Hotch just shrugs, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

If you like my work please consider liking and reblogging.

[zaldritzosrose]

Lose Control (Aegon x Niece!Reader)

Summary: Aegon knew it would never work. But did he care? Of course not. You were one of few members of his family who didn't look at him like he was a failure. Was it love? He didn't know. But he never felt whole without you.

(Based on Lose Control by Teddy Swims)

TW: She/Her pronouns, canon-typical incest (uncle x niece), afab reader, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, oral (f receiving), fingering, semi-public, innuendo, profanity.

Words: 2,985

kēlītsos = little cat, kitten

I apologise now, but this isn't a 'happy' ending.

Something's got a hold of me lately. No, I don't know myself anymore.

You were off limits, Aegon knew that. The fact had been drilled into him by his mother time after time. His niece, the only one who looked at him with some modicum of love or affection. He didn’t know if you felt the same, but he could pretend every time you would smile at him, or your hands would linger against his just a moment longer than needed.

But how could he not want you? You were beautiful. He didn’t care about the rumours that surrounded your parentage. Those dark curls, eyes so brown they could be mistaken for black. All the things that people used to paint you a bastard, he found to be the most beautiful things in the world.

His thoughts were consumed by you, even when you weren’t around. Everything reminded him of you.  The more he thought of you, the more he remembered he couldn’t have you and the further he sank into his cups. 

The day you left for Dragonstone with your mother had broken him beyond belief. Wine and whores barely fill the void you left behind.

Feels like the walls are all closin' in. And the devil's knockin' at my door, whoa… Out of my mind, how many times. Did I tell you I'm no good at bein' alone?

Aegon stumbled back into his chambers. The third night this week that he’d spent drowning his sorrows in some dingy tavern. Word had come that your mother was returning to King’s Landing with you and your brothers. The petitions for the seat at Driftmark were to be heard, and your brother Lucerys’ claim was being questioned.

Aegon would see you again, and it terrified him. 

He was embarrassed of the kind of man he’d become in your absence. A drunk, chasing whatever skirt he could. Fear set in, knowing you’d see him like this.

The morning of your return had come, but Aegon couldn’t bring himself to leave his bed. He was a mess in so many ways. The scent of wine still lingered on his breath and skin from the night before. Sun streamed in through his window, and he quickly sunk back under his sheets.

But his peace was short lived, the door to his chambers slamming open and the harsh words of his mother filling the room. Aegon groaned, it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time his mother would ever berate him this way. But he was in no mood for it.

The sound of her admonishments faded to muffled noise as Aegon tried to rub the sleep from his features. But his actions seemed to only antagonise her more. Heavy limbs rolled from his bed, gripping the sheet around his body as he stood.

His mother’s tirade stopped at his movement, her words faltering.

“I will not apologise, for it falls on deaf ears. Now if you don’t mind, I fear I require a bath.” 

Aegon grumbled, wanting nothing more than to escape Alicent’s harsh words.

He ignored anything else that came from her lips, walking away and towards his thankfully, already filled bath.

I lose control. When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me). I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

You didn’t want to be here. None of your memories of the Red Keep were particularly fond. Well, save for a few. The times spent with your uncle, Aegon, would always bring a smile to your face when you thought of them. When he would sneak to your chambers, cakes in hand, demanding you come to the gardens with him. Why?

Because he missed you.

Back then, you thought little of it, simply thinking your uncle was being kind, as an uncle should be. But when you think of those moments now? Heat filled your belly and a blush bloomed on your cheeks. The evenings spent curled up next to him beneath a tree in the royal gardens, lips sticky from the cakes he always brought, his arms wrapped tight around you and your head on his chest. Those moments had seemed so innocent then.

The reactions of your mother told you now, that they were not. The way your mother had demanded you stop sneaking out in the evenings with him – how spending time alone with any boy in such a way was unbecoming. 

But Aegon was the only one who didn’t tease you about your dark hair and eyes – you knew the rumours well enough. Instead, he told you how pretty you were. Comparing your eyes to embers and your hair to the finest chocolate. 

Now, you stood at Jace’s side, listening to your mother talk to some lord or another. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried to sneak off to find Aegon.” Jace whispered, only earning an eye roll from you. Your brother was one of few aware of just how much time you had once spent with Aegon.

Luckily for you, he’d never told your mother. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, the moment she’d forbade you from spending time with your uncle, you had stopped. Instead, you had simply hidden your meetings better. Swearing your brother to secrecy when he caught you one night.

You ignored Jace’s comment because no answer you gave would keep that smirk off his face. Finally, after what seemed like the longest time, your mother turned and gave you and your brothers permission to spend some time to yourselves before the petitions. You didn’t miss the sideways glance Jace gave you as you hurried away.

I lose control. When you're not next to me, mm-hm. Yeah, you're breakin' my heart, baby. You make a mess of me.

He was washed, dressed, the alcohol feeling like it was seeping out of his skin as he wandered through the corridors. He had no destination in mind, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into his bed. But he also had no desire to listen to another of his mother’s verbal lashings against him . And even more so, he was terrified of seeing you.

Would you hate him as he is now? Would you be embarrassed of him?

Aegon was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming towards him, his eyes trained solely on the stone floor before him. So, when he collided with the soft form of another person, he was knocked near off balance. As he scrambled to stay upright, he was greeted with a very familiar head of deep brown waves.

“Uncle?” 

Your voice. A voice he had imagined hearing time and time again for the past six years. But when you said his name, he finally met your gaze. The faintest of smiles finding his lips, while his eyes remained just a little glazed from the wine he’d already consumed.

You were here. You were here and you were as beautiful as ever. The deep red of your gown makes those warm curls even deeper in colour. It was only when he felt your hand on his arm that he realised he hadn’t spoken a word.

“Do I render you speechless still?” you smiled; your hand rested on his forearm.

“Always, kēlītsos.” He smiled, watching you blush at the name.

Kitten, so called for the way you always used to curl up next to him, safe under his arm. A sweet name that now had your cheeks hot. It was the way he said it, voice lower than you remembered. But you could smell the faint scent of wine on his breath, and you now realised that the stories of his love of alcohol were true.

Six years had changed you both in more ways than one.

Problematic. Problem is I want your body like a fiend, like a bad habit. Bad habits hard to break when I'm with you.

Aegon hadn’t paid attention to a single word spoken during the petitions. He could care less about who inherited Driftmark. His eyes never left you. He didn’t care who saw him staring. He didn’t care if you saw him staring. Seeing you again had awoken every feeling for you he’d once had. And then some. 

He’d ignored his mother when she demanded he leave the wine alone. He couldn’t handle court sober, never mind having to stay away from you. Now, the room swayed just a little, but the fog on his brain was a welcome distraction from you.

The petitions had gone as well as expected – if seeing Lord Vaemond beheaded was expected. The whole family was on edge, but Aegon was comfortably in a wine induced calm.

So, when you walked in, arms linked with Jace, he had little control of the expression on his face. Disgust at the sight of you so close to your brother, a closeness that had once been reserved for only him. He filled his cup again, no amount of wine in the world would likely make him feel better now.

You sat in the only available seat, between Jace and Aegon. You tried to catch your uncle’s gaze, but he seemed to be looking anywhere but at you and it made you feel ever so slightly hurt. Had you done something to upset him?

Problematic. Problem is when I'm with you, I'm an addict.

The supper ended swiftly the moment your brother hit Aemond, provoked of course. The two princes had never been close. You stood with your mother; fists clenched as you watched Aegon pin Luke to the table. There was no love lost between the uncles and nephews, but seeing Aegon treat Luke that way infuriated you.

You stormed from the hall, ignoring the shout of your mother. It was only then that Aegon released Luke, shoving the boy away and drunkenly hurrying after you.

He’d fucked up and he knew it. 

He could hear the clack of your boots on the stones, and he knew where you’d be going. The gardens. Your haven, one you once shared with him.

“I don’t appreciate being followed, uncle.” you called out, stopping just short of the entrance to the garden. 

Aegon was quick to stop behind you, the wine making him unsteady. But he wasn’t going to miss this chance to have you alone.

“You are drunk, Aegon.” 

The accusation, while true, hurt coming from you. Embarrassment flooded him as he tried to find an excuse. But the words went silent on his tongue. He was drunk, yes, but not as drunk as you seemed to think he was.

“It is a common occurrence for you now, I hear. Wine and whores?” Your voice wasn’t as angry as he expected, but having you know such things about him made him sick.

“Nothing more than distractions for a life that is quite tedious.” Aegon replied, doing his best to hold your gaze, blue meeting brown for the first time truly in six years.

“And what makes your life so tedious, I am sure there are many who would revel in the life of a prince.” You answered, turning to continue your walk to the garden, knowing he would follow.

And follow he did, wanting nothing more now than to be in your presence. A presence he’d missed. A presence he’d craved for six years. Even if you seemed frustrated.

“You know exactly what…” he snapped back, the wine loosening his tongue just a little. There was a chance this would be the last time he’d see you, knowing the state of the family, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment.

“Six years without you, kēlītsos, has been a very long time.” 

You stiffened at that. Was he blaming his problems on you? You stopped dead, turning on your heel to face him, watching as he stumbled when he stopped short of colliding with you.

“And you think it has been easy on me?” Your words came out quieter than you thought, your anger failing as you saw the sadness in his eyes, eyes that had once seemed so bright now seemed sallow and hollow.

“I did not want to leave. My home is here, with you.”

Aegon froze, chewing on the skin of his lip. Any anger he’d felt slipped away almost instantly. You hadn’t wanted to go. Those words sparked the smallest ember of hope in him. Maybe, just maybe, you felt as he did.

“I have spent every moment of those six years missing you.”

He heard nothing else, the wine in his belly fuelling his emotions beyond his control. His rough hands finding your cheeks, pulling you to him as he kissed you. The kiss was messy but reciprocated. Mere seconds passed before you curled a hand into the fabric of his shirt and pulled him tight against you. A kiss filled with years of love, passion… and lust. Aegon’s hands moved from your cheeks to your waist, pressing his body against yours as he backed you towards a nearby wall. Thankfully the gardens were quiet in the evenings.

You only pulled away to catch your breath, remembering quickly that Aegon had been drinking. As had you, but Aegon had consumed far more than you had.

“You are drunk, Aegon…” 

“Not so much that I am unable to think clearly.” He replied, wanting nothing more than to kiss you again.

His hands played with the fabric of your gown, keeping your body pinned between his and the wall. He couldn’t let you go, not now. Not without knowing if you felt as he had all this time.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I will go.” He whispered, his forehead now resting against yours.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t because it would be easier down the line. Easier to lie and break his heart now than be truthful and have to leave him again. But you did. By the gods, you did. While you’d loved him for longer than you could remember, love was not on your mind at this moment.

“I want this…I want you. I always have.” Your breath fanned across his lips as you spoke, body inching closer on instinct. 

Aegon closed the distance, his kiss gentle though his hands now gripped your waist hard. The red fabric now fisted tight in his hands as he slipped his thigh between your own. Your body responded naturally, heat flooding you as his lips slid down to your jaw then your neck. He knew he couldn’t go so far as to take your virtue, but he needed something.

And I need some relief, my skin in your teeth. Can't see the forest through the trees. Got me down on my knees, darlin' please, oh…

Your breath hitched as he bunched your gown in his hands, fingers pressed against the fabric of your small clothes. A touch you’d only dreamt about. Wondering what it would feel like to have him touch you so intimately.

The reality had your mouth dry and your flesh searing. Hips canting to meet the deft movements of his fingers. His face buried in your neck as you sighed out in pleasure. You shouldn’t be doing this, and you knew it. All you could focus on was pleasure, not right and wrong. Your own hand soon found the hard length in the front of his breeches, palming him slowly.

Aegon wanted nothing more than to feel you. To commit those soft sounds to memory. To feel your skin on his.

“Aegon…” you breathed, your hands finding the mess of silver waves atop his head.

His name had never sounded so perfect, and he wanted to hear it again. His hands kept a grip on your waist as he dropped to his knees before you, ignoring the confused glance you shot down to him. You soon had your answer when his nose brushed against the fabric of your small clothes, his hand gripping your thigh as he lifted it over his shoulder.

“What are you-“ your words fell silent as he mouthed at you through your undergarments, his name a moan falling from your lips.

Your hand found his hair again, wanting nothing more than for him to keep going. And when his fingers tugged the fabric aside, bearing your flesh to him, all sense was lost.

“So delicious, my sweet girl,” he cooed, licking a hot stripe between your folds.

No man had ever touched you this way, and you wanted no other man but Aegon to touch you this way again. A dream, of course, but one you wanted so desperately. And he lapped at you like a man starved, groaning against your skin at the taste of you, the sound enough to have pleasure shooting up your spine.

And soon the knot in your belly snapped, hands tightening in his hair as you panted his name. Aegon only stopped his ministrations when you pushed him away. With a final kiss to your inner thigh, he stood.

“You are mine, kēlītsos, and you always have been.”

I lose control. When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me). I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

Morning had come. You didn’t remember returning to Aegon’s chambers but that was where you woke. Wrapped in his arms and feeling safer than ever. It would not last. It never did. Shouts from outside the door told you that. And the door crashing open, revealing the furious face of your mother made it crystal clear to Aegon.

You were off limits. He knew that. He’d hoped it would change. But when morning came, the harsh words directed at you by your mother told you it never would. And his dreams become nightmares as you leave him again.

I lose control. When you're not next to me, mm-hm. Yeah, you're breakin' my heart, baby. You make a mess of me.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Who wears the pants. || husband!John Price

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: M Words: 3.4K without the extra!! (this one got away from me, I'm sorry.) Pairing: husband!John x wife!reader CW: quick smut!, yelling mentioned, slightly dubcon (if you squint), john got angry and jealous Tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, smut, fingering-ish, slight exhibitionism, love bites and marks, established relationship, jealous!john price, anger mentioned, ghost's stirring the pot. Summary: John is embarrassed of the fact you 'wear the pants' in your relationship... But only after the lads come to stay over and a snarky comment from Simon, does he decide to show you what's what. a/n: my first attempt at writing smut that I wanted to post... Also Ghost/Simon is a dick in this one...

John simultaneously is and is not ashamed to say how much he loves you. 

Of course, he loves you to bits, finds you the most stunning woman he’s ever seen, and would kill and die for you in a heartbeat. His love was the epitome of “If I ever were to lose you, I'd surely lose myself.”

However, he would never risk introducing you to his teammates. Not if he can avoid it. And not just because he cares about you and wants to keep you away from prying eyes, safe and sound in your family home…

More like… they don’t need to know how John purrs when you scratch his beard right beneath his chin and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. They don’t need to see how his pupils almost morph into hearts equally if he sees you in one of his shirts, or in your work clothes, or in joggers and a sweaty t-shirt, or a sexy little number, or nude…

And they especially don’t need to know that their tough-as-nails Captain figuratively rolls over and bares his neck in submission when in the presence of his wife… Or that your voice is like a goddamn foghorn making him genuinely quake in a way he hasn’t since he was a boy at Sandhurst, getting yelled at by drill sergeants… 

He hasn’t left the toilet seat up in 12 years. Hasn’t tracked mud into your shared home (whose floors you had just mopped!) in 10. Hasn’t eaten the last of your snacks or used the last of the tea bags without replacing it in 6. 

There is no weaponized incompetence in your home because you know John is not incompetent and you will not allow him to feign being it to make you his maid. You take care of him and your home, and you refuse to let him disrespect you in any way… And he knows better than to try.

His teammates have no idea how hopelessly in love he is with you. With the way you seize control from him in a way he allows no one else to. Not his soldiers, not the rest of his family. He’s been the ‘man’ of the house in all aspects for as long as he can remember… But that stops the moment he crosses the threshold of the front door, hangs his coat and his gear in the hall closet, and pads through the home in search of you. 

He always finds you busying yourself with something or other and you beckon him close like a puppy, with a pat on the chair next to yours as you work at the dining table, or a come hither motion of the fingers as you water the plants, or reach your arms out for a hug as you stand atop a ladder halfway through repainting the accent wall in the living room. He always hugs and burrows himself in you, inhaling your scent, basking in your warmth, leaving kisses and touches in every inch of exposed skin.

He’s not embarrassed of you, he’ll gladly shout out to the world about his love for you. But he’s embarrassed by how he acts around you. Soap and Gaz would tell him he’s “whipped” if they ever knew what you do to him. So he doesn’t want them to meet you.

But he doesn’t have a choice. December 23rd, at 11 P.M., he and the lads have just touched down from a mission. The weather forecast speaks of a rainstorm and severe weather warnings extending right over Christmas… And John knows what he must do.

So disgruntled, your husband walks off to his office and calls you. In a low tone of voice, almost hushed, because he woke you up, he grumbles about the storm, about how Soap won’t be able to drive up to Scotland for Christmas, that Gaz can probably risk driving to Birmingham, but it’s still pretty unsafe, and that Ghost, as usual, was going to lock himself in his quarters on base and drink himself until he passes out…

You don’t need to be told again. You spring into action immediately. You simply reply that you’re getting up and getting the guest rooms ready, asking if one of the lads would mind getting the pull-out sofa in John’s study, and telling John to drive safe, that the roads are dangerous with the rain… 

It’s midnight when you hear the front door opening, and the hall light turns on, flooding the space with a bright warm-toned yellow-ish light. “Shoes off, you lot. The missus doesn’t want water or mud inside.” He demands in a gruff tone.

As they go about unzipping coats and undoing their muddy boots, you can hear John still chastising them. “I’ll stress again: I want you on your best behaviour. No work talk, no cursing, no disrespect. The missus is doin’ you a favour.” He adds as if the poor lads are children who cannot be trusted to be polite.

Unbeknownst to you, he had already spent the whole drive over from base warning them about picking up after themselves, about being respectful to you, about putting the toilet seat down, about making their beds… reaming them out as if they were wild animals who had never once been inside a house and would break and dirty up everything they touch.

You move to stand at the step that separates the lowered entryway from the sitting room, silently observing them, arms crossed as you lean your shoulder against the wall, wearing a robe and your house slippers as you look at them.

They’re all taller than you, moving surprisingly efficiently and quietly, trying not to disturb the peaceful home too much. They’re dripping wet, probably from rushing from the car in the driveway up to the front stoop. A set of four backpacks or duffle bags are on the floor by the door, their clothes for the days they’ll spend here inside.

“Give them a break, Jonathan, you can keep bossing them around in the morning, love.” You quip and you immediately feel all their backs stiffen, four pairs of eyes glued to you.

“Hi, lovie…” John says, already crossing the small entryway to wrap his arms around your waist, dropping a deep open-mouthed kiss to your awaiting lips. Your hand touches his face, caressing his cheek over his mutton chops.

“Steamin’ Jesus, the Captain’s got taste…” You hear a voice murmur, followed by a sharp ‘ow, what was that fo’?’ which causes both you and John to look at the other soldiers. The offending man, the shortest, with a mohawk, rubs at his arm, which seems to indicate the tallest one on his left side smacked him into shutting his mouth.

You don’t need to be told who’s who to realize that it was ‘Ghost’ who smacked ‘Soap’, while ‘Gaz’ stands on Soap’s other side and shoots John an apologetic look. He told you everything about them, without ever revealing names or pictures, for you to know more about them than you should. John himself as his lips pressed together, his mouth nearly disappearing behind his mustache, as he glares at the lads (aka Soap) for making comments about you.

You quickly approach the three men. “You must be the lads my husband talks so much about!” You say with a chuckle. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the men responsible for bringing my John home in one piece every time…” You tell them gratefully while shaking each of their hands with two of your own, your eyes shining a bit.

“Please, come in!” You gesture behind you into the home as you flick the sitting room lights on. “John, will you show them their rooms while I put the kettle on?” You ask your husband as you slink into the kitchen. 

A few muffled footsteps, created by socked feet, are heard as they walk inside, with John directing the boys to the different bedrooms (and study), and you hear a gruff voice murmur something about taking the pull-out sofa. You assume it’s Ghost.

Your husband then comes to hug you around the waist as you wait for the water to boil, dropping kisses to your temple and cheek, doting on you while his big, calloused hands squeeze at every part of you, your thighs, especially, but your tummy as well, along with gentle words. “I missed you so much, lovie…” “Thank you for doing this…” “You know, I can never sleep right without you in my arms…” “Just missed you so much…”

Five minutes later, you hear their steps coming back as you’re finishing pouring the water into a few separate mugs. Your husband dislodges his arms from around you. He doesn’t need the others to see he’s so crazy about you. 

“Your home is beautiful, Mrs. Price.” Gaz says as you set the tea mugs, the sugar, and the milk within their reach on the island counter. He takes one of the mugs and tops it off with some milk. The way the young boy calls you ‘Mrs. Price’ has nothing if not respect dripping from it. 

It makes you tingle on the inside, even after so many years, the realization that you’re John’s wife, John’s choice, John’s priority. Your husband preens himself a bit when he catches the look in your eye. He loves that you’re his, of course, but loves it even more that you like being his.

“Thank you, Gaz. I’m glad you like it.” You remark with a smile as you sip your own tea. Herbal, different from theirs, so you can resume your sleep which John interrupted with his phone call. 

“Aye, real cosy!” Soap quips from beside him as he slides up to a stool on the island. He doesn’t drink tea, so you didn’t prepare any, per John’s request.

“I hope the beds are to your liking… I kinda made them in a hurry.” You quip, which causes the boys, and your husband, to laugh, as they seat themselves across from you, in the bar stools. You barely even noticed Ghost taking the last cuppa and sliding up next to Johnny, his mask rolled up just enough to allow him to drink.

“We’re soldiers, ma’am, we’ll sleep anywhere,” Gaz told you, ever polite, with a sweet smile on his lips. John has told you all about Gaz, his protegé, of sorts, a respectful lad, the youngest, but one that has proved himself to be useful.

Your eyes flitter over to John for a moment, watching as he drinks his tea, two fingers laced through the handle of his navy blue mug, rather than around him, his behind leaning back on the counter beside you. While doing that, however, you miss the glances the lads exchange with each other, and then to you.

“As true as that might be…” You trail off after sipping your tea and look back at the soldiers again. “I still hope you have some good rest. And, I’m sorry about the pull-out sofa… it’s a bit old, came from John’s old apartment… Has gotta be a decade old now.” You quip as you look toward Ghost.

“It’s alright. I’ll sleep fine.” Ghost says. “Like Gaz said, we can sleep wherever.” He adds.

Soap nods along. “Anything’s better than sleeping on the ground with your rifle between your legs and your jacket folded up to serve as an eyemask.” He adds and laughs.

“Johnny.” Your husband calls out, chastising him. “No work talk.”

“Aw, c’mon, Captain, that hardly counts as work talk.” He retorts with a little boyish grin.

“Them’s the rules. No bloody talk about service.” John insists.

“John.” You scold him, and your husband stiffens next to you, his eyes flittering over to you, eyebrows scrunched and his eyes softened as he meets your eye… nothing short of a puppy.

It was stronger than John at this point, to respond to your tone of voice with nothing but a baring of his neck, not a baring of his teeth like he would with anyone else. The boys all noticed it, the way his shoulders sagged and his eyes looked at you with utter devotion.

“Let the boys talk about work. As long as it’s nothin’ too gory or confidential…” You trail off. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy ‘earing all the stories they have to tell about you at work... Right, lads?” You ask as you look at them again.

“Oh, we’ve got stories alright.” Soap says with a giggle and a wagging of his brows, which causes Gaz and Ghost to snicker under his breath.

“Well, then, regale me with them during Christmas dinner, ye?” You ask them, to which they nod along with smiles. You could swear even Ghost had one in the corner of his scarred lips.

After a bit more small talk, you kissed John goodnight, while he told you he’d stay downstairs and talk with the lads a little longer, so you waved at them while trekking your way upstairs, the boys once more thanking you for the hospitality.

The moment John’s trained ears honed into the fact the bedroom door has closed, he finishes his tea and glares at the lads.

“Don’t be bloody flirtin’ with my wife.” He tells Soap directly, though his comment extends to Gaz and Ghost as well, which is why he glances to both sides at the other two.

“Sir?” Gaz asks while blinking.

“You ‘eard me, Garrick.” He adds and points a finger at the young Sergeant. 

“We’re not flirtin’, sir.” Soap tries to defend himself.

“Aw, that’s rich that there, MacTavish, yeah.” Your husband says bluntly.

“Weren’t flirting.” Ghost retorts as he looks at John. “I was more so interested in the way she has your balls in her little purse.” He adds.

Both Soap and Gaz turn to look at Ghost with eyes so wide you’d think he just tried to kill the Captain directly… and he might as well have, the way John choked on nothing and started coughing up a lung.

The other two are trying to muffle their chuckles and hide their smirks as Simon continues. “Don’t give me that look, boss. We all saw it. Pretty thing might as well be walking you around on a lead.”

“Nonsense.” John says defensively as he snatches the cups of tea from the island and turns to deposit them all in the kitchen sink. He starts washing them quickly, shoulders stiffened.

“Bunk down.” John demands. “We’ve got plenty to do tomorrow.” He adds. The light screeching of bar stools being pulled back and pushed back into place is heard, as the boys vacate the kitchen with curt ‘Goodnight, sir’ murmured before they headed upstairs as well.

“Balls in her bloody purse, my arse.” John grumbles under his voice as he finishes doing the dishes, drying his hands, and then setting them on the island across from him, head hung in shame.

He knows Simon’s right. Hell, he revels in the fact you’ve got metaphorical balls of steel to confront him, to steal control right from under him, to wear the pants in the relationship. Lord knows it took him years to meet a woman who could not only keep up with him but put him in his place…

So why does it embarrass him so to hear them snicker at that fact? Why does it annoy him to look weak for you in front of his men? Why does it anger him that he loves to be weak for you?

Those are the thoughts in his head as he turns off the sitting room and kitchen lights and marches upstairs... And as he approaches your bedside in the dark, pulling the covers out from atop of you, exposing your body to him.

Under that robe you came to welcome them in, you were only wearing one of his t-shirts and no pants whatsoever, which he had peeped by the way your bare legs had shown through the slit between the two sides of the fabric whenever you walked.

“John?” You ask him in surprise, his breath is a bit ragged, more so huffing like a bull through his nose, as he grabs you and pulls you up into his arms, only to drop you on the bed further in the middle of the bed.

The giggle that escaped you when he did so annoyed him even more. He’s angry, pissed that he had been humiliated in front of his men, that you had humiliated him by merely existing and going about your relationship with him the way you always did…

So why are you giggling? Is he really that weak for you that you’ve grown to not fear his anger?

He grabs the hem of his shirt and yanks it up and over your head, tossing it to the side before he attacks your neck with nothing but kisses and bites, his hands touching your naked body, rough skin dragging over every inch of the softness he has left on display.

“John!” You giggle some more as he keeps touching and kissing you, his body weighing down on yours, your legs parted to accommodate him. “We can’t… We have guests!” You try to negotiate as his fingers dig into the pudge of your thighs and slide around to grip a greedy handful of your ass.

You still haven’t spotted the anger in him… And, as such, your playful attempts at negotiating postponing sex only annoy him more. You’re still trying to call the shots…

His left hand wraps around your face, quieting you with a strong palm holding your lips, his fingers digging into your jaw on either side. “You’re mine.” That’s all he says as his fingers continue exploring your body.

“You think you can embarrass me like that in front of the blokes?” He asks you in a whisper as his teeth catch your earlobe and suck and bite at it. “Hm?” He beckons, his tone aggressive. “Make me look like a big girl’s blouse in front of my subordinates?” He continues.

A shiver runs down your spine as his free hand wraps around the waistband of your underwear and yanks it off, down your legs, tossing them to a random spot, barely giving you time to react before his fingers drag up your thigh.

“You think you’re oh-so-box-clever, innit?” He asks you as his fingers slowly drag across your slit, finding your clit effortlessly, years of practice aiding in his torturing of you. You find yourself moaning and sighing against his hand, hips stuttering a bit, your feet looking for a perch at the edge of the bed so you can rub yourself into his hand.

“Walking around in just my shirt and those knickers and stupid bloody robe, making my boys see how lucky I am to have you, make them jealous… Only to embarrass me, make me look weak…” He trails off and tuts loudly, his tongue clicking disdainfully.

The things he’s saying make no sense to you. You didn’t try to seduce his friends, and you sure as hell didn’t try to embarrass him! It’s just the way you always act around him, around the house. He’s never complained, in fact, he’s praised you plenty of times for being ‘perfect’ for him… So where did this change of his come from?

Frankly, you don’t know, but you don’t care… It has been weeks since you were last together, sure, but you know that’s not the main reason why you’re loving this. The unbridled rage in his voice, combined with the way his experienced fingers touch your body, is making you feel things John’s never made you feel before. Your mind is clear of nothing if not a pang of hunger for him, your hands gently pawing at his shoulders atop his charcoal grey t-shirt, soft whimpers muffled by the hard palm pressing you into silence, into submission.

“I’m afraid I’ve let you gone unchecked for too long, lovie...” He grunts in your ear as his fingers draw circles against your clit, the rough pads catching at the throbbing bud, making you whine and whimper, your whole body shuddering against him. “I’m going to fix that attitude of yours...” He clicks his tongue again, sounding all the more annoyed.

“Now you’re going to be good f’r me…” He says as he uncovers your mouth, his hand, wet with saliva, slipping from atop your mouth to grab your wrists and pin them above your head, flush to the mattress. “And make the lads know exactly who’s in charge in here. Clear their doubts...”

[MASTERLIST]

extra: 500 words-ish

The next morning, you wake up before John, as usually tends to happen when he comes back from a mission. The silence and lack of stress, the warmth of you in his arms, the cosy atmosphere of the house… It’s all the perfect sedative to keep him as good as dead for many, many hours. You slip out of his embrace and check the clock… it was just past 9 A.M. You pad quietly to the hall bathroom after fishing out a change of clothes from the wardrobe, and rinse off the sweat from the night before, as well as the dried slick and cum between your thighs. You’re still unstable on your feet, your thighs and the space between them deliciously sore, your body covered in marks of the night you spent in your husband’s arms… You feel like you’re floating as you drift downstairs and into the kitchen…  “Fuckin’ hell!” You jump, startled. In your kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea is Ghost… You think. The height seems about right, though you didn’t expect a broad-shoulder, bare-chested blond in your kitchen. “Good morning.” You say softly as you shuffle inside, hearing him return that same greeting in a way-too-deep of a voice, standard of man who’s just woken up. “Go put a shirt on, this isn’t the beach.” You scold him, as you open the fridge, looking for the eggs. Your voice is as fierce as it usually tends to be with John. When he doesn’t reply, you look over at him, noticing his mask is missing. You assume John scolded him about it, how you’d likely be startled by seeing a masked man in the night. The look in Ghost’s eyes is unreadable, stern, unwavering, and eerily calm, as if he’s seeing through you. They flit over you, up and down, with a certain glint you can’t quite decipher. You straighten your back in the face of his look, portraying nothing if not confidence. Ghost leans against the counter, one hand holding his tea cup and sipping from it, the other resting on the counter to support his weight, before one of his eyebrows shoots up. “Nice night, huh?” He asks you and, immediately, you feel your entire confidence bleed out of you, your eyes widening like saucers. Of course he heard it… You’re sure all the lads heard you, especially considering John and you started right as they had gotten to their respective rooms to sleep, all of which were located in the same hallway as the master bedroom… It’d surprise you if they hadn’t… Hell, it’d surprise you if the neighbors across the way didn’t! The way John had you last night, crying out his name at the top of his lungs and making you apologise repeatedly for something you didn’t even do (on purpose) definitely leaked through the walls… Just like the shame you currently feel leaks through your pores. You turn away to fix your eyes on the fridge, too embarrassed to face him again after realizing he knows. Your brain rushes to find something to distract you, to hide what you feel… “Are you hungry?” You end up asking softly.

[sister-lucifer]

“You’re Really Not Cut Out For This…”

A Toby x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble 

Content/Warnings: Porn with no plot, bottom/sub Reader, degradation, a bit of mean Toby, heavy discussion of Reader basically being a free use sex toy, no specified genitalia for Reader, Reader + Toby are both proxies

This is not fully proof read! Please let me know if you see any typos

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, USED COMMERCIALLY OR FED TO AN AI. IF YOU DO THIS I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND FUCKING KILL YOU.

“You know, y-you’re reeeaaaally not cut— c-cut out for this-ss-s…t-this ‘job,’ I mean.” 

The sudden admission would make you pause if had the lucidity to do so. You can’t do much of anything with the rabid way Toby’s pounding into you from behind, shoving his cock into you with the whole of his strength without so much as a single thought to your wellbeing. You barely manage to babble out something that sounds like a question. You can feel him smiling despite the forced wrenching of his face. 

“I-I’m just saying,” he continues, punctuating that last word with a particularly acute thrust that makes you squeal, “You d-don’t—shhh!—don’t seem like y-you really enjoy this-ss-s…line of-fff-f work…hell, you’re not good at i-it— it either, if we’re being hones-ss-st-t.” 

There’s no ignoring the cheeky giggle in his voice as he insults you to your face. He leans over you a bit, putting more of his weight on you and practically trapping you beneath him. He keeps talking before you even get a chance to protest. 

“You’re definitely n-not my equal,” he growls with a chuckle, as if highly amused by the idea of your inferiority, “You’ve hardly su— s-succeeded at any mission th-the ‘Boss’ has given you— y-you…but you are so good at this—“ 

He laughs at the way you choke on nothing when he angles his hips upwards just right, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. You can feel his body shudder on top of you, a series of involuntary tongue clicks and whistles interrupting him for a moment before his endless chatter continues on. 

“You’re sooo— s-so fucking good at taking my cock…” 

He can’t contain the flood of sick giggles that burst from his throat before he can truly finish his thought. 

“…Tell you what I’m gonna do.” 

You shiver at how deathly serious his voice becomes suddenly. He’s speaking lowly into your ear, making sure you hear every syllable clear as day.  His stutter even pauses for that moment; he’s focused, suddenly, and a focused Toby is rare, but horrific for anyone who happens to be in his line of sight. 

“I’m gonna talk to the ‘Boss’…y-yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I-I’ll tell— t-tell him myself, ‘I don’t t-think the n-new— new— new one is cut out for this.’”

He grabs at your arms, pinning them to the mattress as he uses his body to hold you down. He’s starting to lose his steady pace as his excitement builds, his fingers flexing and popping in ways they shouldn’t be able to as he grasps your wrists.

“And he’ll l-listen to me, you know? H-He’ll lis— l-listen-nn-n to me, I know he will, be— b-because— beep! beep!— because I’m his f-ff-favorite.”

The word ‘favorite’ echoes in your mind, making you dizzy and sick. As much as you and the others are convinced that creature can’t feel emotion at all, it does show favoritism. It doesn’t love Toby, it doesn’t even care about him; on some level, Toby has to know that, he’s smarter than he lets on, but… 

…He doesn’t care. 

All he knows is that he’s getting positive attention from something, and it’s going straight to his ego. The only saving grace is that he’s usually too juvenile and short sighted to use that power against his fellow proxies. 

Usually. 

Unless he can get something he really wants out of it. 

“I-I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him-mm-m you’d be better off as my toy.” 

You nearly choke as Toby rocks you forward with a particularly hard thrust. You can feel your legs trembling, nothing more than jello underneath you, barely holding you up. Toby sucks in a breath through his crooked teeth as he watches you put the pieces together in your mind, though you can do little to show it. 

“That’s right, that’s-ss-s right!” He repeats, sounding far too pleased with himself, “I’ll tell him you’d be b-better off-ff-f being used, just-t something I can use— u-use— use to unwind after I do all the hard work that y-you— you could never.” 

He breaks out into giggles again, wrapping an arm around your neck and stifling your air without warning. You grasp onto his sleeve, clawing at his arm, but you’re far too shaky and weak to pull it away. He forces you to look him in the eyes, not wanting even a scrap of your attention to not be on him. 

“That’s right, you h-hear that?” He manages to choke out between his laughter, “I’m gon-nn-a get you demoted to a fucking hole!” 

He pushes—throws, really—your head back into the mattress before even have the chance to argue. He shoves your face into the bed, hand tangled in your hair as you whimper pathetically, exactly how he likes. He runs his tongue over his lips as he looks down at you, completely helpless underneath him, and it sends a surge of sick pleasure through his body.

“Just enjoy it,” He hisses through gritted teeth, “Because when I-I get m-mm-my way, this is all you’ll ever do.”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated. 

[henry7931]

Too Bad For Chad

Poor Chad… when it came time to pick a partner in Chemistry, he made sure to pick the biggest nerd in the class. But no one could have predicted the accident that happened.

You see, right across the hall at his University—

The science department was working on an early experiment to transfer one’s thought to another human. Although all it took was for one of the professors to trip over a wire…

He bumped right into the machine which switched it to its max power and knocked the ray gun directly point at Chad and his lab partner Allen. What are the odds?!?

Well as one would imagine this could be a huge lawsuit, that is if Chad had anything proof of the incident.

You see Allen, is one smart cookie. He saw his opportunity of keeping Chad gorgeous body and took it.

That day, as Chad in Allen’s body began to scream and yell at everyone around him. Allen sat quietly observing the situation. And when asked about the incident by the university he denied everything.

He told them that he felt bad for ‘Allen’ that he seemed like he was going through a lot.

This all happened about a month ago, so how are they doing? Well let’s hear directly from them.

Allen:

Being lab partners with Chad was and is the best thing that ever happened to me. And I feel bad for him one bit!

I’ve dealt with meatheads like Chad my entire life, being pushed around and bullied. I’ve even envied and lusted after guys like him. But now I get to be him. Plus I still have my brains.

Since I’ve became Chad I’ve started to turn his GPA in the right direction, I’ve learned I’m now handsome enough to get away with just about anything, and I get to live out all of my horny fantasies.

With this body’s power and my brains I feel like I can do anything. Especially hook up with any guy on campus.

That’s the thing, all I have to do is turn on the charm with some handsome guy. I already know he’s into me before I make a move. I can tell when someone’s checking me out because I used to do the same thing.

I guess you could say I’m going through my hoe era right now. I’ve probably hooked up with half the guys on campus, including the “straight” ones.

But man, nothing beats a nice jerk session in this bod.

I’ll jerk off before going to sleep just gooning over my massive stinky feet.

I’ll beat one out in the shower right after a work out just hollering up a storm! And I don’t care who hears or sees me.

Like the other day, I was enjoying myself and my roommate popped in and couldn’t believe what he walked in on. I was licking every inch of these size 11 feet while pumping my 10” inch thick dick. But I didn’t stop, I just kept looking up at him and said, “enjoying the show?”

He tried to say something to me out of pocket but I made sure to put him in his place.

He’s now my personal toy, I let him worship my body when I get home. And he loves it!

At the end of the day, I’m still that nerdy gay guy deep down. But I have all of the looks and the power! 😈

[pickingupmymercedes]

Lewis Masterlist

Series

It comes with the territory p.1 / p.2 / p.3

“This… this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But no love is worth losing my sanity over. Not even ours.”

An Invisible String Theory Story p.1 / p.2 / p.3

"I’ve always felt that string pulling me closer to something. But never, not even in my most beautiful dreams, had I imagined that it was to bind us together."

It was bound to come out p.1 / p.2

"Do I look like I'm joking? This is not a joke! My father has seen a video of us... the one video that couldn’t leave my phone!"

Not just a pretty face p.1 / p.2 / p.3 / bonus

"because even this… even this agonizing dance is better than not having you at all."

Maybe in another life - p.1 / p.2 / p.3

"A what-if that will forever linger in the quiet corners of my mind."

She’s here and she’s ours - p.1 / p.2 / p.3 / p.4 / p.5 / p.6 / p.7

You couldn’t really tell if he was telling you or himself that. "How you feeling dad?" "Amazed, hopeful, scared... in love"

Get me out of here p.1 / p.2

“Why are you defending him?” “Because we need to think this through, babe. Toto’s not one of us anymore, you saw it.”

Your future was Ferrari - p.1 / p.2

Surely, it meant nothing for Lewis and you would probably never see him again. Your future was at Ferrari, somewhere he would never step foot in. Or would he?!

Multichapters

Ways to say “I love you” p.1 / p.2 / p.3(NSFW)

All these little things p.1 / p.2

Small firsts p.1

Firsts - NSFW p.1 / p.2

Ways they show they love each other p.1 / p.2

One-Shots

Angst

It had to be enough - "I’m so fucking tired of fighting, of trying to prove that I still belong here." "I can’t keep watching you tear yourself apart like this. It’s killing me, Lewis."

Home is wherever you are - "You shouldn't have come" "Had to"

An impossible dream - "Don't you ever wonder what could have been?"

I didn't get scared. I'm always scared - “Do you even understand what it’s like for me? To love someone who lives every day like it might be their last?”

Not now, not ever - "You don't have to go through this alone, you know"

I'll come find you - “I’m scared… of how things have been, of how things are going to be.”

If these wings could fly - “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like Sunday. It’s been so long and everyone’s worked so hard for that”

And just like the sun, we will rise - “I can’t promise to have all the answers, but please let me in”

Fluffs

A smile like that -"And he’s out there, posting photos like it’s some romantic movie."

A bit mushy - How Lewis and his wife do in a couple's Interview.

Happy you're home - "And trust me, he adores you. He just doesn't know how to express it."

Later it is - “But that safety pin right there is holding on for dear life.” “I only care about what you think.” “Flatterer.”

Of thorns and blooms - "It's meant to be worn by someone who sees the world differently, who tells stories with every thread"

He always rises - "Like I knew I'd given it my all, every lap, every strategy meeting. And finally, finally, it’s paying off. It feels… good. It feels so damn good."

R for Roscoe, C for Coco - "You went through all this trouble just for Father's Day with Roscoe?"

Boy from Stevenage - "you don't need to win over that entire room tonight. You just need to make that brave boy from Stevenage proud."

Whispered fairytale - "The point is in the surprise. The joy of meeting them, whoever they are, for the very first time."

A thousand times over - "Since I still don’t believe it’s true… would you marry me, again?"

It sounds silly - "I'm a grown woman who’s achieved success in life, yet… I find myself comparing to those other women."

NSFW (+18 only)

Very First -“I want this. I want you. And I’m not saying that lightly.”

Salty -"Told you” she whispered, her thumb brushing against his bottom lip. "It’s salty."

Damn him -“I believe you’ve got two things that are mine” “My hair tie you took with you this morning. And you babe, you're mine.”

Give yourself some credit - “I’m gonna give you five minutes to mourn that shit qualy” “You think you can handle me, pretty girl?”

What those arms can do - "Let's focus on you for now, love. And what these arms can do to you."

Warm enough - "Did you know there were no doors in this place?" "I might have known. Thought it could be romantic"

It's not just a win - The 104 special - "I just...I needed this. I needed to win. To prove to myself that I still can."

Improvised Compensation - "My plans definitely involve you" he continued, "but they can be done anywhere"

As good as chocolate - "That's a new way to claim your share"

I'm yours, only yours - Vegas special - “You really thought she was any match for you?”

It always points South - “Your compass tattoo, huh?”

My Venus - MET special - "I can actually feel your eyes searing holes in my dress, Lewis."

I want South - "Hello, miss explorer”

You only need to ask - "Seems like someone's forgotten how we got here in the first place"

It's Mrs. Hamilton - “Mark me, show me who I belong to”

The things we do for fashion - "Like what you see?" "More than you'll ever know."

Show me you care - “I’m asking you to, show me how much you want this, because I know you do”

My mark - “I’m not one to leave things unfinished”

NSFW alphabet

Senna!Reader x Lewis Hamilton

Thank you for everything - "It doesn't matter how long it's been" "Grief doesn't have a deadline."

Under an Ipê tree - “He would’ve liked you I think… would’ve hated to race you, for sure."

Drabbles

Do not under any circumstance plagarize, edit, repurpose, or repost any of my original work. this includes all of my works.

copyright © 2024 pickingupmymercedes all right reserved.

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

steve harrington + friends to lovers maybe? definitely feeling lovesick steve rn 😮‍💨

Thanks for requesting lovely mal <3

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 698 words

The movie theater is dark, and yet Steve catches sight of you the second you step inside. His heart does a dumbass little somersault. 

“Y/n’s here?” he whispers to Robin, who’s sitting next to him and using her licorice as a straw. On his other side, Eddie’s kicked his feet up on the seat in front of him like a total asshole. 

“Oh, yeah.” Robin waves to you, and you spot them, heading over. “I invited her.” 

“You didn’t say she was coming.” 

Robin gives Steve a sideways glance. It’s tinged with a meaning he refuses to decode. “I didn’t realize I needed to check with you.” 

He huffs. You’re climbing the steps, still three rows from reaching them. “Move over by Eddie.” 

Robin turns towards him now, eyebrows raising. “You’re not serious.” 

“Go!” 

“Dingus.” She musses his hair spitefully as she stands, just so he’ll have to fix it, waving over her shoulder at you as you start shimmying down their row. 

You wave back, smiling bemusedly as you take her seat beside Steve. “Hey,” you say. 

“Hey.” He’s grinning like an idiot, and he can’t seem to stop. He wasn’t expecting to see you today. “Long time, no see.” 

You go a bit sheepish, the previews casting a red hue over your features. “Yeah, sorry. Work’s been keeping me busy lately. Three people quit at once, so everyone’s expected to cover until they can hire new ones.” 

Steve grimaces. “Yikes.” He has the urge to tell you to quit and let him pay for everything, as if that’s something he can fiscally manage or even remotely normal. “That sucks,” he says instead. 

“Yeah, hopefully it’s not for long.” You get comfy, slipping off your shoes and putting your socked feet up on the seat. Your knees lean onto your shared armrest, within a pinkie’s reach of Steve’s hand. “I actually just got off, I didn’t grab anything from concessions because I was worried I’d miss the beginning.” 

“Oh, no way.” The movie starts, and he lowers his voice but neither of you turn towards the screen. “Want me to run and grab you something?”

You give him a funny smile. It makes your cupid’s bow flatten out and Steve thinks that if he were to kiss you, he’d start there. “No,” you whisper, “you shouldn’t have to miss anything either.” 

“It’s okay,” he promises you. “I don’t even really care if I see this.” He has been looking forward to it ever since he saw the commercial, honestly, but he’s happy to miss it for you. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, “but thanks, Steve.” 

“At least have some of mine.” Eddie shushes him loudly, and Steve kicks the underside of his knee, making the other boy curse. “I’ve got coke and popcorn, that okay?” 

The movie glows blue over your face as you grin, eyes twinkling in the low light. “Classics. But I’m not gonna take your food.” 

“I’m not gonna eat it all,” Steve argues. “These are both extra-larges. You think I bought that all for myself?” He absolutely did. 

You lean in closer, your knees touching the side of his hand. “You paid for them,” you whisper. 

“So?”

“So, I’d feel bad.” 

“Then make it up to me.” Steve hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. He’s never been able to lay on the charm with you like he can with other girls, he doesn’t know why. Or maybe he does. “Come with us back to my place tonight. We’re ordering pizza.” 

“So,” you murmur through a smile, “make it up to you by taking more of your food, is what you’re saying.” 

“Uh-huh, exactly.” He takes a sip of his coke and then angles the straw in your direction. “Deal?” 

You drop your eyes for a second, shaking your head like he’s silly, and Steve knows he’s won even before you meet his gaze again. 

“Deal.” You wrap your lips around his straw, sucking in a mouthful before letting go. “You drive a hard bargain, Harrington.” 

Steve grins, laying bay in his seat and totally not thinking about how his pinkie is grazing your thigh. “Yeah, that’s what they tell me.” 

[littlespoonevan]

i'll keep it all to myself

7x04 coda (she's back, baby xoxo)

-

“Hey, killer.”

Buck winces, mouth already tripping over an apology as he moves into the Diaz living room. “Eddie, I’m so sorry-“

“Buck, I’m kidding,” Eddie interrupts, exasperated and just a little fond. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of that tone in a few days. It’s embarrassing to say he missed it. “Sit down.”

Buck takes the armchair instead of sitting on the couch next to Eddie. He’s not sure why. He never sits in the armchair. Sitting in it now he almost feels…off balance. But then catching sight of Eddie’s foot propped up on the coffee table sobers him immediately and he forgets all about the strange discomfort in his stomach.

Reaching for the cushion behind him, he gets up again. “You should have something under that,” he says, gently lifting Eddie’s leg to place the cushion on the table. He lowers it again carefully, nodding in satisfaction when Eddie’s foot is nestled safely in the cushion. “The table is too hard.”

“Oh sorry, I thought I was the one with real medical training,” Eddie quips but there’s no bite behind the words.

“Yeah but I’m the one with crush injury experience,” Buck says, kicking his own legs up on the table in proof.

Eddie opens his mouth as if to argue back but then closes it again, rolling his eyes, but his lips twitch a bit. Just at the corners.

“Eddie, I really am sorry,” he says, straightening in his seat and forcing himself to meet Eddie’s gaze properly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just got so-“

“I know,” Eddie replies, quiet and careful and devoid of any of his earlier teasing. “But you know you can talk to me, right? Like, it’s me Buck. You can just tell me when something’s wrong.”

Buck does know that. He knows he can tell Eddie everything. Anything. The bad and the good.

Which means he should be able to clear this up right away, right? He should just be able to say, ‘Hey, I was apparently working through some latent feelings I never knew I had. And I took that out on you. But guess what! I like Tommy and he likes me back and we have a date Saturday!’

But thinking about telling Eddie that Tommy kissed him makes his chest constrict in a way that he doesn’t expect. So he tucks it up in a neat little box in the corner of his mind for now and focuses on making sure Eddie’s okay. Because he can do that. He knows how to do that.

“I’m an idiot,” he says. “And if you want I will totally give you one free punch so we’re even.”

Eddie huffs a quiet laugh. “I could never hit you.”

“Should I go get Christopher’s Legos instead and step on them with my shoes off?”

Eddie lets out a real laugh then, the kind that makes his eyes close and his head fall back against the couch cushion, and Buck feels so much affection for him well up inside him he’s almost breathless with it.

“You’re an idiot,” Eddie tells him. “And a martyr. Seriously, Buck, I don’t care. I just want to make sure you and I are okay.”

“Of course we are,” Buck says, without actually stopping to interrogate if that’s true or not.

They are, he thinks. The fact that something absolutely life altering happened to him an hour ago and he somehow can’t make himself tell Eddie about it is…inconsequential.

He’s just hedging his bets. Not trying to get ahead of himself before he has yet another failed romance.

“In that case, can you go to the fridge and get us some beers?” Eddie asks, pulling Buck back to reality.

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” Buck says, even as he stands. Maybe they can split a beer. Half a bottle shouldn’t hurt. “Tommy says you’re on pain meds.”

“Oh, so you guys talked?”

Eddie says it unassumingly and when Buck freezes at the dining table and looks over his shoulder he finds that Eddie isn’t even looking at him. He’s leaning forward on the couch, adjusting his leg, but when Buck takes too long to answer he raises his head and gives him an expectant look.

“Yeah,” Buck murmurs, the phantom rasp of Tommy’s stubble against his mouth still tingling and making him want to reach up and touch his lips. That would give too much away though. “We talked.”

Eddie smiles, nodding his approval. “Good. Maybe all three of us can actually hang out together now.”

The thought immediately makes Buck’s stomach swoop with something unnameable but he doesn’t let it show on his face.

“Sure,” he breathes. “Sounds great.”

[midnightstar-kpopsmut]

Chapter II, The Electric Sheep

- I should probably start by telling you who this guy is.” Said Jimmy. - His name is Cheongtae, and he is Korean. Handsome, like you, discrete, he owns a high quality hair saloon here in Gangnam.”

- Is Cheongtae your...” started the American.

- You want to ask if he is my friend, how do I know him, why did he told me all of this.” Jimmy was impatient. - But believe me, our relationship doesn’t really matter now. I trust him enough to know that the story is true in every detail. Let me tell it to you exactly how I’ve heard it from him. I will use English, since you don’t know Korean. Some nuances could be lost, please forgive me for my simple language.

This is how, according to Jimmy, Cheongtae recounted his pleasurable encounter with Karina to him.

- I was already a bit stressed when riding in her elevator. You know where she lives now, she moved in those apartments on the north river side, with the private park at the center of the towers... Her manager had texted me a couple of hours before. It was urgent, he said. Karina was supposed to make a comeback in three weeks. We already had multiple sessions scheduled at the saloon, for her and the other members. But they needed me to come at her place, right now, for a quick check-up.

Karina has a big mouth. She is not vulgar or anything, just a bit exigent. She knows what she wants. When I worked for her she kept pestering me endlessly, talking about how she had this idea for a detail of the hair style while on vacation, how she wasn’t sure if it was something I was used to do... All while I waited with scissors in hand. Once I started cutting she calmed down. She reminded me of one of those dogs that bark and fight until you finally put them on a leash. Then they behave.

That’s why I was a bit stressed on the elevator. Hair is serious in Kpop. It’s part of the reason why I like to work for idols. But if they needed me to go directly to her place it meant that the stakes were even higher. I was expecting a big meeting of some sort, probably requested by Karina herself. When I finally put my foot into the entrance I was surprised. I couldn’t hear anyone, just the calm sound of the end of an afternoon. Karina was alone.

She greets me firmly. - Oppa, finally. Come in. You really like to make women wait.” Oppa? I think. She knows I am married. Damn she is annoying. - Palli palli (- It means fast in Korean, added Jimmy: - Please learn this.), why are you moving in slow motion?” She wants to chit chat. And I am already out of it. Still, for the sake of business, I try to get into her mood: - You surely seem ready to go to a party.” She doesn’t like it. - A party? Dressed like this?” I look at her clothes, a pair of the most fluffy cargo pants, gray, and an expensive crop top, black. Nothing on her feet. She keeps going: - Please, please, please. Don’t stand there! I told you to come in.” I advance in the living room. I had never seen Karina outside of my shop, but still I had knew her for some time, I had no much interest. My focus shifted naturally on the style of the space. The living room is the only thing you can see when entering, you discover it in one striking blow. There are two, huge, sofas, that almost form a U shape. Light blue as the main color, very modern style. The floor takes a downward step to get to the sofas, it’s sophisticated. After this area you get to the windows, then a veranda. You could say that interior design is one my passions, but I see you don’t care so let’s keep going.

- Do you... like it?” Asks me Karina. - Sure, I like it. It’s good quality.” I don’t get to the veranda. I stop at the couches and turn to myself, an equally impressive open kitchen stands behind, hidden from the entrance. All the other rooms are out of sight, you get to them through corridors. By looking around I finally realize that something is missing. I can’t see Karina’s manager anywhere. I was already surprised of not seeing the whole team here, but the manager, I thought, was a given, since he was the one who wrote to me. - Where is your manager?” I ask.

- Oh, him. My manager...” Her tone floats. Her head is all over the place, I think. - He is not here.

- But how... I mean, he wrote to me, I thought it would be here. But he doesn’t have to, now that I think of it.

- Actually “I” wrote to you. I met him this morning, to discuss things, he forgot his phone here. It’s his working phone. I am going to give it back to him tomorrow.

- You wrote like if it was him. And you have my number. Why didn’t you write to me from your phone?

- I don’t know! How can I know? Maybe I thought it was more professional. Why are you asking me all these questions?! Can’t you see I am stressed already? If I manage to piss off Karina, I am cooked. - I am sorry.” I say. - It’s ok” she answers. - But really, you haven’t seen me in a while. Look at me. Can’t you see that I am stressed?” I look at her. She looks electric. It’s also because of the look. The crop top has that kind of fluffy texture that could come directly from the body of an electrical galactic sheep. I kind of like it, it is hot. Good choice on her. Not that I would expect any less, from one of the constantly ranking top 5 idols in popularity.

- What are you looking at?” She asks. - Your crop top. - Anything else?” And then I notice it. I could have done sooner, but I didn’t. Her breast had taken some sizes. Only her breast, not the rest of her body or her face. Two sizes, at least.

I nod to myself. What a reaction to have. Anyway.

- Exactly. That’s why I am stressed. Sit with me. I really need you today.