#commander sampson

[heckcareoxytwit]

This Garfield style on Kudamon and Satsuma is hilarious.

Kudamon! Are you /srs or /j right now?

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Porky: A d-d-division of Hassan's Elite Guard is c-c-closing in on our p-position. The probabi-p-probabi-uh the likelihood of a f-f-f-favorable outcome can be increased, if we are able to fall back to your m-m-main base and engage the enemy as we m-m-move. Elliot Sampson: Define "favorable outcome", Porky. Porky: Th-th-th-they all drop d-d-d-d-d-dead. Elliot: That'll do.

[celebtf]

Wow, you replaced Justin Bieber, Shawn Mendes and Alex Sampson - great! But what's about athletes like Nico Hischier? He's a star in the NHL and the no. 1 draft from 2017. Any chance to read something about him?

THE NHL SECRET

The locker room was silent, save for the faint hum of the flickering fluorescent lights. Adam Keefe sat slouched in a chair across from his brother Sheldon, his face a twisted mask of frustration.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Adam growled, his voice thick with bitterness. “Sitting on the sidelines, watching other men live the life I was meant for. I’m nothing now. A washed-up coach in Belfast.”

Sheldon’s lips curled into a slow, malevolent smile. “You’re more than that, Adam,” he said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You’re my brother. And I don’t leave my family behind.”

Adam looked up, his eyes narrowing. “What are you saying?”

Sheldon leaned forward, his face inches from Adam’s. “I can give you your life back. Youth. Strength. Everything you’ve lost. But it comes at a price.”

Adam hesitated. “What kind of price?”

Sheldon’s smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than before. “We’ll need someone to take your place. Someone who’ll disappear without anyone suspecting a thing.”

Adam stared at him, suspicion flickering in his eyes. But Sheldon’s gaze was unwavering, cold, and calculating.

“Who?” Adam asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Sheldon leaned back, his smile turning into a smirk. “I’ve got someone in mind.”

Nico Hischier was dragging himself to his locker after practice, his body screaming in protest. Coach Keefe had worked him harder than ever, pushing him to the brink.

“Captain,” Sheldon’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. “Locker room. Now.”

Nico frowned but obeyed, trudging into the dimly lit room. A single chair sat in the center, the overhead light casting an eerie glow.

“What’s this about, Coach?” Nico asked, his voice tinged with unease.

Sheldon didn’t answer. Instead, the door slammed shut behind him, and the lights snapped off.

Nico felt hands grab him, rough and unrelenting. He thrashed, but he was no match for the strength holding him down. His wrists and ankles were bound to the chair, and a filthy sock was shoved into his mouth, muffling his cries.

The lights flickered back on, revealing Sheldon standing beside another man—Adam Keefe.

Sheldon stepped forward, his shadow looming over Nico. “You’ve been such a good captain, Nico,” he said, his tone mocking. “But every leader has to make sacrifices.”

Nico’s eyes widened in terror, his muffled screams filling the room. Sheldon grabbed his face roughly, forcing Nico to look at him.

“Do you know how long I’ve been planning this?” Sheldon hissed, his voice dripping with malice. “You’ve got everything—youth, strength, skill. You don’t deserve it.”

Adam chuckled darkly. “And I do.”

Sheldon released Nico and turned to Adam. “Put on his gear. It’s time.”

Adam hesitated for a moment, then began stripping Nico’s equipment piece by piece. Nico squirmed and thrashed, but the ropes held firm. Sheldon watched with a gleeful smirk as Adam pulled on the gear, each piece fitting him perfectly.

Then the chanting began.

The words were harsh and guttural, slicing through the air like knives. The temperature in the room plummeted, and a dark energy seemed to envelop them.

Adam’s body began to change. His muscles bulged, veins throbbing beneath his skin as his frame expanded. His shoulders widened, his posture straightened, and his skin took on a youthful glow. His face contorted, reshaping itself into Nico’s. His hair darkened, growing out to match Nico’s perfectly.

Adam groaned, his voice deepening and shifting until it was identical to Nico’s. When the transformation was complete, he stood before the real Nico—a flawless copy.

Adam-Nico turned to the mirror, his lips curling into a wicked smile. He flexed his arms, admiring the raw power coursing through his new body.

“This... this is incredible,” Adam-Nico said, running his hands over his chest and arms. He turned back to Nico, who was trembling in the chair.

“How does it feel?” Adam-Nico taunted, stepping closer. “To see someone better living your life?”

Sheldon laughed, clapping his brother on the back. “Go on, Captain. Rest up. Big game tomorrow.”

Adam-Nico grabbed his bag and strode out, his laughter echoing in the hall.

Sheldon turned back to Nico, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he sneered.

Nico’s muffled screams intensified as Sheldon began chanting again, his voice lower, more menacing. The air in the room seemed to vibrate with dark energy.

Nico’s body convulsed, his muscles withering and shrinking. His skin sagged, wrinkles carving deep lines into his face. His hair turned gray, then white, before thinning to nearly nothing. His hands trembled as they aged, veins standing out like brittle roots.

The pain was excruciating, his body burning as it transformed into someone decades older—someone he didn’t recognize.

By the time Sheldon finished, Nico was no longer Nico. He was Adam Keefe.

The new Adam looked down at his gnarled hands, his voice a hoarse whisper. “What... what did you do to me?”

Sheldon crouched in front of him, his grin predatory. “You’re nothing now. Just an old has-been.”

The door swung open, and Adam-Nico strolled back in, smirking. “Forgot my jock,” he said, then froze, his gaze landing on the new Adam.

“Well, well,” Adam-Nico said, his tone mocking. “Looks like the mighty captain’s fallen.”

The brothers laughed, their cruelty palpable.

“You’ll get used to it,” Sheldon said coldly. “Or not. We don’t really care.”

The two grabbed the real Nico—now Adam—and dragged him out.

As they threw him into the car, Sheldon whispered, “You were never going to win. This was always our game.”

The brothers’ laughter echoed as they drove off, leaving Nico broken and defeated.

The brothers had won, reveling in their twisted triumph.

And Nico? He had lost everything.

[soft-persephone]

I saw your fic between Alex Cross x reader x John Sampson and I was wondering if you could write the three of them more. Your writing is fantastic.

Thank you so much! My heart is quite literally melting. I am nothing but a pudlle. please, its too much! 🥺🫣😳

Anon I stressed over what I could possibly write that could somehow follow up part one, and then I felt guilty because it took me so long to figure it out and I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding/ignoring you, but it all hit me today.

So enjoy this fic I wrote in between my downtime at work. I hope you like it just as much as part 1!!!

Some Things Never Change 2

MDNI //WC: 5k// Explicit descriptions of sex, oral both m and f receiving, threesome, Alex and John talk you through it, sick and twisted childhood games, but in a good way, // masterlist //

You startled. 

Two loud raps from your door echoed through the quaint house. 

It’s previous owners, your grandparents, long gone but not forgotten was left to your father, and he planned on selling it, but at the tender age you were, begged him to keep it and give it to you, and as a father who never failed to give you your heart's desire, relented. 

You still had an apartment in the city, but you didn’t want to be found at the moment. Drooling into the parlor couch cushions and curbing off a hangover as you drifted in and out of sleep was the evidence 

So the fact that someone was knocking at your door and stirring  you out of your sleep had you less than enthused to get up. 

Wiping your face, you count to three under your breath and swing your body upwards into a sitting position.

You sighed and stood, not stressing to let whoever at the door know you were coming.

Because who told them to come in the first place?

You opened the door and blinked. “Alex?”

“Hey.” He drawled in a way you always loved, dropping his fist that was daring to make a second attempt to alert his presence. “Thought you might want some breakfast.” 

He held a plate wrapped in foil in his hand.

You stared at it before slowly moving a hand towards it.

“Uhm. . .” His fingers brush along yours as he hands it over. He dips his head in an attempt to catch your gaze, but you avoid it. 

Not to avoid him, but because your brain starts to catch up with you, leaving you to begin to wonder what you look like right now as you place the plate on the entryway table. What day is it? Do you smell like alcohol? Or. . . worse. 

You should apologize. 

But as you turn your head to look at him, you’re floored. 

Those deep brown eyes that tower over you, gloss over with an emotion so strong it fills the air and becomes tangible, an emotion you understand, an emotion that pangs you with tinges of guilt as you feel it and let it fill you. 

He steps forward and you step back. He shuts the door behind him with a swing of his foot. A hint of a smile graces his face as he wordlessly acknowledges the old creaking scream it had when you both were younger is gone. 

“It’s cold,” he says in a low voice,” igniting the emotion in the air, letting it stick to your skin like the snow that clings on his brow, sticks to his boots, and flitters off his coat, “and you don’t have on no clothes.” 

You smile and laugh softly at that, hating the way it sounds, for existing.

It should have killed the tension, but he reaches out. His large hands slide along your waist, trailing under the fabric of the  t-shirt, reaching under the fabric to the bit of skin above the hemline of your panties. You can’t tell if he’s falling into you or pulling you closer, but your brain moves on autopilot. Despite your bare legs and semi indecent state, it commands you to pull at the collar of his coat and slide it off his shoulders. Your toes curling up on their  tiny tips to kiss him on the cheek. 

A courtesy, even hungover, you never fail to do, but in your focus to fight the tension in the air, you miss the look on his face and the glint in his eye as he tilts his head and envelope your mouth with his, demanding you to feel it to let it take over you, and immodestly, you surrender. 

You never could say no to Alex. 

He takes over. Sliding out of his coat and forcefully putting it on the rack. The slide of his tongue stops its pleading  languid exploration of your mouth  and becomes more urgent. The breaks between each surge of his lips becomes shorter and less frequent. Your lungs burn desperately, but you bear the pain and pursue your desire, your soul burning for more of him. 

He grabs you by your thighs and lifts you onto the entryway table, shoving everything on it to the side, and finally letting you breathe. His mouth trails kisses down your jaw and with your first breath you moan. 

In one desperate kiss at your collar, his teeth brush along your skin, tingling your senses. His path to your chest is stopped by your shirt. With parted lips and furrowed brow he grabs at the hem of your shirt, beginning to fling it off of you when the door swings open, the frost of the chilly air bites at your toes, desperate to cool down the the desire and longing of you and Alex’s creation, but it ultimately fails. 

But it’s no match for what follows it inside as he swings the door shut. 

“Lil Bit.” John’s voice rings low in the air. It rumbles like the soft rolling thunder before the rain patters down, deceiving what is expected from his size, not crashing and booming in the way people expect, when he loses his temper. “What have I told you about not locking this door?” He scolds.

“It’s not that type of time John.” Alex lowly replies.

But you don’t care about that or why, more upset with the step he takes back and the way he helps you down off the table. 

You keep your eyes on John. He smirks, wrapping his hand around your face. The leather creaks as his fingers dig into your cheeks and his palm presses against your chin.

The emotion in the air dissipates, becoming something appropriate between a group of friends, losing its spark. 

John gives Alex a look and he nods.

John remains still before finally nodding back in affirmation. 

You thin your lips, ignoring his gaze as it quickly flickers to you. 

Yes, you knew what he was silently asking and telling Alex, but you refused to acknowledge it, too raw from your conversation earlier today. Still reeling, you weren’t in a place to keep apologizing for your feelings. 

Whatever happens should happen. 

But John knew the truth even if he didn’t know how you were feeling even if you wouldn't say it, refused to even.

He knew how reckless you could be on a spiral. 

“We gonna keep this out here or are we gonna take it up to the bedroom.”

Licking your lips, you finally acknowledge him. 

“Okay.” You mutter softly, making your way upstairs. You don’t have to check if they’re following you or not.

The sounds of shuffling boots thud at the front door. As you make your ascent you can hear the rustling of their clothes coming off their bodies as they discard them, not caring where they land. A problem to worry about later.

As you finally sit on the bed littered with old memories in a updated room filled with just as many new ones, Alex silently shifts behind you, beating you to it and sliding your shirt off for you.

He wanted to do it.

He always did like unwrapping presents. He practically liked it more than the present itself. The slow reveal, the process, the time and care someone puts into it. The mini bite size mystery of it all. 

John wastes no time. With large warm hands he firmly turns you over, pressing the small of your back into the bed,  he spreads your legs open. As he removes your panties you wince into the sheets as his breath dances along your clit. He envelopes your pussy with his mouth. The warm contrast of it, the heated swipe of his tongue as he delves  into you, and the way he yanks the flimsy fabric off of you makes you cry out with a whimper. 

Your hips grind along his face, Chasing the heat of his mouth and the scratch of his beard on your sensitive skin, and he lets you. Following after your rhythm with two of his fingers as he eats you out. The soft wet sounds feel even louder and more encompassing in Alex’s silence. 

You move to smother the sounds into the sheets but Alex stops you, cupping your cheek with the palm of his hand. 

You turn your head up and bat your lashes, wanting to see him, fearing a judgment to match his silence, but you're stilled by the warmness. The complete awe and desire that fill his gaze. 

He slides his thumb along your bottom lips before dipping it into your mouth. You attempt to wrap your lips around it, eager to please, but with a gentle firm grip, he pushes his thumb against your tongue. “Look at you.” He says low, his voice thick with desire.

 He mindlessly parts his lips in the same slow movement as his  thumb parts yours, leaving you at his mercy. 

A grin slowly morphs his features as his eyes dart from your mouth to lock with yours. 

John adds another finger and you close them, letting out a choked sound at the stretch, a sudden gush of your arousal follows, flooding his fingers, making it just as easy as before to fuck yourself on his hand. The grinding of your hips stutters, slowing down, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Smoothly, desperately, you glide your hips up and down his fingers.

John’s free hand clasps tightly on your thigh, the small bed of his nails digging into the plump skin and he stops the grinding of your hips, the pursuit of your high. Slowly, he plants one long kiss on your pussy, pushing his tongue deep into you, his beard doing more than creating a friction as he did. Your hips reflexively try to move away, but with his firm grip on you, you can’t. 

“John.” You cry out. 

“You like how he does that, huh?” Alex starts. 

The bed dips as he makes his descent towards you, his hand sliding down your neck from your cheek. He presses against your sternum, slowly turning you onto your side, so that you can lay against the pillows near  the head of the bed.

John follows the movement of you. With a strong grip on your thigh, he keeps your legs spread as you move to the side. In a single  wet slurp his mouth was off you, the air of the room makes you wince as he and Alex move you in unison, but he hasn’t moved far. The steady pants of his breath  between your legs had your pussy throbbing, caving in on itself, confused on whether it needed a break or something inside. 

“You want him to do it again?” Alex tilts his head at John not waiting for you to respond, and he starts his slow torture to pull you apart once more. He pushes one finger into you and wraps his mouth around your clit for the second time. 

You keen as Alex closes the distance between him and your body. His lips trailing from your collar on downwards. 

The fire at your core ignites once more, this time more burning than the last. Your hips start their chase, even more desperate this time for release, but as John curls his finger inside of you while eating you out, you whine, speeding up, practically bouncing on his face, his fingers, but with a wontonous grace he lifts your leg higher and presses his face more firmly against you, giving you more than what you can ask for, and stopping your movements.

Alex’s  lips grace your collar with a searing embrace, his lips hot,  he  murmurs into your skin, “you move your hips on his face like you're used to it.” 

Each kiss became more urgent, sloppier as his teeth nicked at your skin with each one heading towards your chest. With gentle cruelty he wraps his mouth around one of your breast, sucking hard until your nipple pebbles in his mouth. Your back arches, pushing your hips further into John who matches the movement with a second finger. 

“You’ve done this plenty of times.” Alex coaxes you, “you can take it.” He says as you whine, before moving to your other breast. “Give her another finger, John.” 

And he did, stuffing you full and lapping you up with his tongue like a man starved. 

Too much, it was all too much to be back where you started and twice as sensitive. Alex pressed his palm against your tummy, holding you firmly onto the bed, firmly keeping you in place and John dives deep into your pussy once more with his tongue sliding hotly against that one spot. The feeling of his beard you once chased suddenly unbearable, the scratch too harsh. 

You whimper through your orgasm. 

Alex cups your face once more to keep your head up and your mouth open, making your sounds fill the little room you shared so many times as kids. 

“Just like that, Bitbit.” Alex coos in your ear from above. . “Let it out. Let it all out. Forget about Marcus. We got you now.”

You were never baby or baby girl. You were Lil Bit. . ..  their little Bitbit.

Once done, John removes himself from you, finally letting your thigh go. You gratefully fall into the bed.  

John stands to his full height, shoving off his briefs. Your eyes flutter, unable to take his gaze, unable to bear the sight of his thick heavy dick. 

Has he always been the big? You don’t remember being so intimidated by his size before Marcus. 

You look up for a reprieve, but Alex stairs down at you with crossed arms, his dick straining hard against his briefs, the sight leaving you to decide to close your eyes. Your limbs were weak, your body settled in its position, a wave of comfort and content washes over you. You could just—

“Uhn-uh,” Alex firmly pats at your cheek, jolting you awake, “you ain’t going to sleep now. You need to finish what you started.”

A lie. 

You hadn’t started anything, but you were too weak to argue. You weakly grab his hand and settle it against your face to stop the slapping. You rub your thumb against the back of his hand to let him know you were awake. 

“What you want John?” Alex speaks to him not tearing his eyes away from you. 

“Think I wanna see her take you in her mouth like she used to.”

Alex hummed, his eyes almost  rolling back at the thought. 

“It has been a while since we’ve done something like this, hasn’t it?.” Alex’s tone was almost playful, calm and conversational. “How could I forget?”

John grunted softly, not not a chuckle. You were too weak and his voice was so low, the sounds so similar. He always liked to put extra bass in his voice. If you weren’t in the state you were in, you would have called him out on it. 

“How ‘bout you, Sugar?”

Alex puts hand on his chin, tilting his head in thought before pointing at him. 

“I think I want to see her grind on your dick like she was on your face.”

“Sound good to you Bitbit?” John graveled.

“Mm.” You slurred out a mumble of incoherent sounds. Trying to look at him, either of them. 

“I know what she wants.” Alex spoke for you, moving his hand as he spoke. 

“I think she wants you to kiss her.”

You hated how your body immediately responded,  rushing with a surge of energy to influence a new budding of desire throughout your being. How your eyes fluttered open and focused on John with no difficulty. The burning of your core that told you how much you wanted it, and the dipping of your hips and arch in your back told him. 

John titled his head, his face not revealing  anything to you that said he would do it. Looking cool and laid back, like he wasn’t standing bare in front of his best friend with his second friend naked in the bed between them. 

“I don’t know,” he looked at Alex, ignoring you, she’s not saying anything so it’s hard to tell.”

You held back a whimper. You hated this game and you wouldn’t  give them the satisfaction. 

“I gotchu,” Alex’s hand was suddenly on you. Brushing along your skin from your side to your breast. He thumbs at one of your nipples, making you squirm. “See how her back is still arched from when I asked, how she all of a sudden isn’t sleepy no more? How she  won’t stop looking at you?” Alex started teasing your other nipple. Unable to hold it in any longer, you release a high keen, weakly whimpering under him. 

“That’s how you can tell how bad she wants you to kiss her.”

John hums in mock affirmation, the bed dipping further as he settles over you. 

“Is that true Lil Bit,” he teases, “all you gotta do is ask.”

“Oh she’s not gonna ask.” Alex’s grin is cruel. “Probably because, and I’ll admit– Lord, bless my soul, but I said some awfully hurtful things last night, and now I think she’s too scared to ask you for what she wants.”

“Ohh, Bitbit.” The rumble of John’s voice as he leans over you is sinful. Your pussy throbs at the sound. “You don’t need to be scared. I’m still the same John,” he placed a hand on the leg hat has the marks of his nails on it. He tenderly  brushes his thumb  along the soft bruised skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll give you what you want. All you have to do is ask.”

“Come on Bitbit.” Alex leans down to kiss your temple. “John knows you don’t love him. He knows you aren’t going to beg him for something real. I didn’t mean it.” Alex’s voice is  soft and warm. He kisses you behind your ear and you understand.

 I’m sorry.

You open your eyes, unsure when you closed them and look at John. His gaze is heavy, not just with desire. Understanding slowly graces his features and they fall into something serious not completely discernible to you, but he breaks the spell for you, not leaving it up for guess.

“I thought you wouldn’t want me anymore.” You blurt out in a soft voice. Unlike them you can’t let your actions speak for you when you're at your breaking point. You have to say it or the emotions will break you. “I thought you’d think that I want more and I’d never ask you for that,  but sometimes I feel that way and I don’t want—but I can’t help it and—“

John closes the space between you, shutting you up with a kiss. His beard tickles along the skin of your cheeks and chin. His hand  gripping your face, the way his mouth firmly envelopes yours, and the hot wet swipe of his tongue has a moan force its way through your body, shuddering beneath him, tasting yourself on his tongue, it makes you squirm, your pussy ache, but you can’t stop. Pressing your tongue against his for more, eagerly taking what he gives you and all that you can on your own. 

He breaks the kiss, exhaling along your lips, but you can’t stand to be apart, to let it be over. You swipe your  tongue along his bottom lip before taking his mouth in yours and you do it again and again and again— and he lets you. 

Alex snakes his hand into the roots of your hair and pulls you back into his chest. Craning your neck in his grip, he kisses you from behind. You give him the same attention you give John, except you bite his bottom lip between your teeth. He attempts to push his tongue further in your mouth than John ever did, silently creating a competition to one up him. 

And what a close competition it was. 

You moan and he removes his grip from your hair. 

“Face down. Ass up. Keep your mouth open.”

With weak legs you obey, unable to move as quickly as they do. John slaps your ass right before you could move it up, making you yelp.  

“Don’t be mean.” Alex drawls, as he carefully gathers your hair and gently grasps it in a firm grip, so it’s out your face. He then takes his other hand to grab your jaw to keep your mouth open, “not when she’s been so good.” With one languid thrust, Alex pushes himself as far as he can. 

John plunges into your pussy with little resistance, the sudden fullness makes you keen around Alex, the sound muffled around his dick. 

John starts pounding into you in slow hard thrusts. The wet smack of his hips into  yours has you losing focus on sucking off Alex who was only half way in your mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“You better move those hips to match each one of those back shots before I stop being nice.” You squeeze around John at his words, and he lets out a groan. 

“Fuck, Alex.” He pants. “Don’t talk to her like that, or you’re g-gonna ruin it.”

“Uh-uh, I said that’s what I wanted to see, and I wanna see it.”

Whining, you turn your attention towards moving your hips back to meet John’s, letting out a short whimper over Alex’s dick with each one. Who seemed to be enjoying it just as much as he pumped what couldn’t fit into your mouth with his hand. 

“Ohh just like that Bitbit. You’re taking John so good.” He moaned.

You couldn’t do both. You couldn’t focus on  hollowing your cheeks and take as much of him down your throat as you could and keep throwing it back. Your pussy starts to ache, having enough your hips do their best to lift off of him as quickly as they could and still keep a steady rhythm. John didn’t like that. 

Thrusting harder, he grabbed your sides, pulling you back and helping you meet each one. 

You moan around Alex, drool dripping down your cheek as he tries to thrust further into your mouth, but your throat squeezes too soon, pushing him out. 

He swears under his breath.

“Help me out John. I think Lil Bit needs some encouragement.”

John roughly grabs your ass, letting his nails dig half moons into your skin. He massages his thumb along your other whole, gently kneading it around the rim. You keen, squeezing him further inside you. 

He pushes his thumb inside you with a hiss. 

At the sudden intrusion you open up, your pussy bottoming out, allowing John to somehow fuck even deeper into you, and with the drawn out moan you let our around Alex at the foreign feeling, it gives him enough room to plunge all the way past your lips for his tip to hit the base of your throat. 

“There you go Bitbit. You just needed some help. You're taking us both so well now.”

Alex moans as he slowly fucks your throat, letting you get used to the feeling. He slides his hand from your jaw to your neck, feeling himself slide in and out as he shallowly fucks your throat.

“Tell her how good she’s being John. She needs to hear it from you too.”

“So good. Bitbit.” John slowed down as he spoke, letting you feel every inch of him as he slid in and out of you, going all the way out until you could only feel his tip and rolling his hips until you were full of all of him. 

“So wet,” he grunted, “tight as always.” 

His thrusts became quicker and so did Alex’s, rushes of his precum trickled  down your throat. 

They both moved rougher, faster, and all you could do was whine, whimper, and take it. 

“Tell her to take it, John.” Alex pant, grabbing the back of your head with both hands. 

“Don’t give out now,” John reprimanded in a low strong voice, your walls throbbed around him, “take it. . . .Take it just like that, Bitbit.” He continued, driving you crazy. “Don’t waste a single drop or you’ll have to make it up to us.”

He thrust harder into you, Alex was already spilling down your throat, you hollowed it out, desperate to keep it all down. 

Alex cradled your head against  him until he was done. The neatly trimmed hairs at his base tickled your nose. He wiped the stray tears from your cheek as he did. “You did so good. So good for us.”

“Does he state like you remember?” John huffed. He pulled you closer to him now that Alex was done. 

Your whimpers filled the room as he repositioned his grip on your hips, his fingers digging. 

“Don’t be like that Bitbit.” He pushed your head down into the sheets and shoved your hips up. “You were so good for Alex. I know you can be good for me too.”

The pace he set was brutal. His thrusts as he matched your hips were powerful  enough to leave bruises. You mewled as he did, drool pooling into the sheets as held you down. 

You gripped the sheets by your head. You’d be surprised if your knuckles weren’t split with the force. The slamming of his hips hard enough to rock you off  the bed.

With a low groan he leaned over you. His chest pressing your back into the mattress as he came. 

He moaned above you. The vibrations of it rattled against your skin. You squirm, hips canting foward subconsciously to escape the fullness, much too sensitive. 

But John held you firmly down. His hips following yours, keeping his dick firmly inside of you.

His cum fills you up to an unimaginable degree. 

Has there always been this much? 

A dumb question. He wasn’t called Two-John for nothing. He had enough for two men at least, proving his namesake. 

He steadily lifted himself from you. Not sure why you moved your head up, searching his lips. They brushed along his as he moved to kiss you on the temple. That’s what he was trying to do, you vaguely remember always wanting him to kiss you instead, but this time you took what you wanted. 

He huffed a silent laugh into your face with a light smirk. 

Humming, he grabbed your chin and held your face still so he could finish what he set out to do and kiss the side of your head. 

Satisfied he let go and lifted off the bed. 

Alex threw him a towel.

“I know you’re tired, but you need to move with me.” John tapped your thigh, making you yelp. Not that it hurt, but it was surprising. 

You did your best, but you were practically useless, but he was a smart man, figuring it out and managing to clean you off with the warm towel. 

He tossed it back to Alex who threw it into the bathroom across the hall and tossed John another one. 

“You too.” 

John smacked his teeth, but otherwise didn’t complain. 

“One more time.” Alex softly coached you into a more comfortable positioning in the bed so he and John could lay next to you. 

An odd sense of Deja vu, or would nostalgia be a more appropriate term, washed over you. 

Many times you all had been tucked into bed just like this. Either by your Granny or Nana Mama, giggling throughout the night until someone threatened to get a switch or belt. 

“So it’s over with Marcus.” John drew circles into your skin. His hand brushing warmly against your belly. The warmth of his hand stirred at the feeling of Alex cum still oddly warm within you. Your pussy faintly throbs at the thought.

You cleared your throat. “It was mutual.” Your voice was softly horse and weak, fucked out. “. . . If he showed up right now. I think I’d take him back. I think I regret it.”

Alex wraps his hand around your chin and pulls your face up into a kiss as he dips his head down to meet your lips. 

When he broke it, he stared into your eyes, understanding. 

John weakly  trailed his hand to your neck, softly tapping at your chin, so soft you almost missed it, but you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was not possible.

Answering, you  turned over, placing a hand on his chest as  you reached up to caress your hand softly at his beard. 

“Come here.” He relented, commanding you softly. 

Obeying, you closed the distance, tasting yourself on his tongue once more. 

He also understood. Breaking the kiss, he settled his forehead on yours. He holds nothing against you.

He didn’t say it, but you could tell. You could feel it. Emotion swells within you and tears threaten the corner of your eyes. Before you could settle back down into the bed, and hide them from John. Alex reaches for your face once more and pulls you back into him, kissing you with more fervor than he had done previously, not letting go until you made a soft wanting noise in his mouth. 

Then John follows, making sure to take your breath away and your knees buckle, despite laying down. 

Alex frowned, his face drawn into a pout, that any other time, you would have called adorable, but at the moment, a menace was the only description that came to mind. 

John would kiss you, and then Alex would again, trying to one up him. Not liking to be upstaged and hating to back down from any challenge, John would kiss you again. And the cycle would repeat itself over and over and over again.

You hated this game too.

But this time, you didn’t have to fear being caught by Nana Mama or your Poppa, so you let them continue until they tired out— or you,for that matter, but it was hard to get tired when Alex would try to taste every corner of your mouth or how John’s beard scratched deliciously against your face. Because as much as you’d hate to admit it. You missed the attention, the high it gave you. 

The undeniable longing for their touch and the yearning for their love and embrace free of guilt and shame was something you didn’t know you had missed as much as you did, so you would hold onto this moment for as long as you could. 

Because who knows when you all would get another chance.

[thanksbutno98]

I need more intimate interaction between price and wife 😩 also just curious if in the future will there by any chance be a fic on the time of when price and wife saw each other that time where the 3rd baby was conceived? 🤞❤️

Rendezvous

John Price x fem!reader

Authors note: I have gotten about a half dozen requests for this. Ask and you shall receive! I’m also so bad at warnings when it comes to smut so please let me know if I missed anything.

Summary: Being deployed was never easy for Captain Price. That was until he found out you were working near by his base and willing to help him with some stress relief.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v, swearing, oral, car sex, not edited, barley proof read.

——————

“Phone?”

“Check.”

“Passport?”

“Check.”

“Cigars?”

“John I’m not bringing you anymore. You need to quit.” You glanced up at the laptop sitting on your bed. John’s tired, handsome face was glowing on screen as he rolled his eyes at your comment.

“Let me have my vice.” His voice was deep and gruff.

“Absolutely not. I just want you to be healthy and live a long life. I’m still convinced the only reason your voice is so deep is from smoking so much.” You were complaining as you zipped your faded green suitcase up.

“Darling, how many times do I have to tell you. You don’t inhale a cigar. It’s all about the taste.” The tone of John’s voice came off frustrated but you knew him well enough that he was teasing you. He had trouble resisting poking fun or trying to get a rise out of you.

“Oh, how interesting.” You said sarcastically. “Does it cause oral cancer too?” Your words had John’s face dropping into a deadpan expression.

“Someone’s prickly.” John mumbled into the microphone of his white earbuds. He had not realized you heard him. Going slightly wide eyed when you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I am prickly. Do you think the kids are going to be okay with both of us gone?” You huffed out. Moving to sit cross legged on the bed in front of your very old laptop.

“You’re only going to be away for two weeks. I promise they’ll survive.” John tried to reassure you.

No amount of comfort or kind words were going to quell the anxiety you felt. This would be the first time you left your children home without either parent. John had always been home when you went on past digs which helped but now both of you were going to be thousands of miles from your children but ten miles from each other.

“My dad is going to spoil them rotten.” You rubbed your face with both hands.

“Don’t you already do that.” John quipped.

“You know if you keep this up I’m not going to meet you at the grimy bar on Thursday.” You snapped back with an empty threat.

“You’re bluffing.” The challenging tone of John’s voice had you sigh in defeat. Falling backward into the soft pillows and staring up at your ceiling.

“Try me Captain Price.” You challenged getting a deep chuckle from your husband.

“If you spread your legs I’d have quite the view.” John whispered into the microphone, his voice low and commanding. A smug grin spread across your face. Propping yourself up on your forearms you did as John asked revealing the pink silk panties you had on under his baggy shirt.

“Fuckin’ hell. Pull em’ to the side.” John ordered. An almost animalistic growl rumbling from his chest.

“Nope! You can wait.” You giggled out. Snapping your legs back together and sitting up. You watched as John groaned in disappointment and sank back into his chair. Slouching significantly and rolling his head back to rest on the back of the chair.

“Little minx.” John mumbled. You could tell by the way his shoulder flexed he was palming at the growing problem in his trousers.

——————

“You sure you don’t want a drink, Indy?” Your boss Sampson asked.

You were sat at the bar of an old rundown military pub with your face shoved in a stack of papers. You could tell it was old due to how sticky the floors were and the faded artwork that hung around. It was dimly lit making the stained green bar stools look a putrid color. The mirror behind the bar was shattered in some spots from thrown beer glasses and bar fights.

There was a group of rowdy men dressed in military fatigues playing darts and getting wasted. When you first came in you wondered if they were under your husbands command. One tried to approach you since you were the only woman in there and you told him to get lost.

Glancing over you looked at Sampson who was staring at you and looking rather annoyed. That’s when you realized he had asked you something.

“What?” You asked with a bit of a dumb look on your face. You had been so engrossed in your work you had not heard him.

“Want a drink?” Sampson asked again.

“Uh, yeah I’ll have a vodka soda please.” You smiled at the bartender and went back to your work.

“You ever heard of relaxing? It’s our time off have a couple drinks, play some pool, have fun. Oh wait, you might not know what that is. Fun is when y-“

“Okay, okay I get it. I’ll put my work away.” You lightly chuckled. Slipping the stack of papers into your leather satchel, you gave a quick ‘thank you’ to the bartender as he set your drink down.

“The others are going to be here soon. Think we should take the pool table before those guys do?” Sampson was talking to you again but you were to distracted to listen.

The door of the sleazy bar swung open and in stepped Captain John Price, your husband. You swore he had never looked so handsome before dressed in camouflage pants, a fitted army green quarter zip, dusty boots, and his signature hat. All those memories of the first time you met came flooding back. With your heart caught in your throat a shiver of excitement ran up your spine. Paying no mind to your boss you got up from your seat to go greet John.

“Where are you going?” Sampson hissed becoming annoyed at your lack of acknowledgment.

“To go have fun since you don’t think I know how to do that.” You quipped. Turning and giving him a cheeky grin as you downed your drink in one go.

John’s eyes had fallen on you the moment he stepped into the pub and god, were you beautiful. Those blue jeans hugged your legs and ass so perfectly and the tank top under your flannel you didn’t bother buttoning showed off your cleavage. Internally John was smug knowing you wore a push-up bra to see him and kept your hair down because you knew he loved seeing you all natural. He kept a stoic expression, having to fight off the tug of a smile. The men playing darts knew him well enough and John did not want them knowing his wife was here. John held his breath as to not chuckle while he watched you chug your drink.

With way too much pep in your step you approached John. Sampson calling after you and asking where you are going. Not wanting to be recognized John opened the door for you to follow him outside which you did quickly. It was obvious to you that your husband would want to avoid anyone he knew seeing you two together. The cool air tingled your warm skin as your worn boots connected with the asphalt.

“Don’t you look absolutely divine.” John’s low gravely voice sounded in your ear. His hot breath ghosting your skin and setting your hair on end. Turning, you attempted to throw yourself into his arms but he stopped you. His large muscular arm looping around you and guiding you to the truck only a few yards away. You pouted, a proper hello did not feel like too much to expect but knowing John it would be a bad idea to push your luck.

“John.” You whined giving him your best puppy dog eyes. You watched a crack appear in John’s resolve, his eyes flashing down to your cleavage. Seeing you act so innocent and desperate for a simple kiss and hug had his pride and ego swelling in his chest.

“Get in the truck we’ll have a proper hello in a few minutes.” John was quick to open the door for you and extend his hand to help you into the truck.

As you sat you felt a firm almost painful pinch to your bottom. With mouth agape you stared at John wide eyed for being so cheeky and finally you saw the first genuine smile from him. Before you could playfully scold him the door slammed and he was marching to the drivers side. That smile from seconds ago was gone and replaced by an expressionless one. Biting your lip you decided to stay silent waiting for John to feel comfortable enough to break out of his military persona.

Once he had pulled out and down a dimly lit road you watched his stoic nature dissolve. His hand found your thigh and squeezed it to get your attention. Taking your eyes away from the scenery you gave John the widest smile he had ever seen.

“Missed you, darling.” John took his eyes off the road. His hand on your thigh moving to brush the stray hair out of your face.

“Not sure about that.” You teased, your words holding little weight.

“Don’t be bratty.” It wasn’t so much of a warning but more of John politely asking for your sweetness in these moments.

“Who me?” John only rolled his eyes as your words. Pulling the truck down a secluded path and off to the side so it would be hidden. Killing the engine the lights flickered off leaving the pair of you in darkness. The only light being the misty glow of the moon peaking through the tree tops.

“Come here.” John ordered. He threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you closer. Without hesitation you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him back tightly. His large hands were splayed on your back as he placed a soft lingering kiss to your shoulder.

Catching up did not take to long. You and John falling into normalcy almost instantly. It just took privacy and some reassuring words that if he was feeling uptight you understood. He was deployed after all and you could only imagine what that stress was like for him.

John had just gotten back from a hostage situation the day prior and it did not go to plan. No one was killed but a few were injured and it weighed heavy on the Captain. John ended up opening up fully after a few minutes of silence and you lightly caressing his back. Telling you how exhausted he had been feeling. How sleep kept eluding him and nightmares were all he could dream of. The thought that he was missing Evelyns daddy daughter dance and Jj’s championship match only making him feel like a failure.

You stayed quiet and let John pour out his heart in the darkness of the truck cabin. Once he was done John felt like a weight had been lifted off him and it was all due to the comfort and sense of value you gave him. That no matter what he felt you would sit there judgment free and just let him get it all off his chest. It was one of the reasons why he loved you so dearly.

“The thing I want more than anything is to lay in our bed, put on a movie, and let the kids cuddle up between us. Hell I’d even let Molly on the bed.” John smiled weakly. A melancholy look dancing across his face as he thought of your children and dog waiting for him at home. The bags under his eyes were darker than normal and the wrinkles on his forehead seemed deeper.

“Hm, what if I told you that you could have more than that when you get home?” You smiled softly. Hand still resting on John’s should as you rubbed the tense and sore muscles.

“What more could there be?” It made your heart swell seeing the stress melt away if only partially from your husband.

“I could pamper you and treat you right. Dote on you, make your favorite dinner and dessert, I’d even agree to let you take us all camping.” You spoke softly. John’s lips turned up at the corners. Taking your left hand John kissed the back of it and began to play with your wedding ring.

“Now taking the lot of you camping sounds perfect.” The gravely tone of his voice was such a comfort to hear as he whispered against your skin.

“Well, I promise we can do that the first weekend you’re home.” You both wore matching smiles.

“You’ve made me feel worlds better, darling.” John’s words were hushed as he leaned over the center console. His hand moving to cup your jaw, eyes searching yours and seeing the rest of his life in them. Leaning forward your lips met. The love between you two sent sparks flying as you kissed each other slowly and sensually. It felt other worldly to have your husband lips pressed against yours. Pulling away you breathed out a content sigh.

“I can keep making you fell better if you let me?” You’re words sparked curiosity in the stoic Brit’s mind.

“And how would you do that?” John asked.

His eyes darting down to your cleavage. This was your queue to seduce your husband. You wanted to take care of him, all parts of him. With chipped polished fingers your grasped the thin white tank top and slowly pulled the fabric along with your bra down. Exposing your breasts to John whose eyes darkened at the sight of your hard nipples.

“Cold?” He whispered, forehead resting against yours and bringing a hand up and cupping your breast gently.

“No, just horny.” You purred.

Reveling in the way John groaned and began to fondle your breasts. Massaging them, tweaking your nipples, then burying his face in the valley. John nipped and sucked marks into the swell of your breasts. Pushing them together so they practically suffocated him. His rough beard left your skin red and burning, little sighs and moans falling from your tongue at how amazing John’s lips felt against you.

No words were exchanged after that. You and John were on the same page and ready to have your way with the other. Johns hands grasped your hips, hoisting you over the center console so you could straddle his lap.

With no hesitation you took your seat and spread yourself over his thick thighs. Grinding down, you could feel his cock through his trousers. It was all happening so fast and you laughed as John was already unfastening his belt, clearly blinded by lust to notice you were staring.

Staring, at his desperate face, twisted in excitement. Fumbling with his belt like he was about to get exactly what he wanted. John pushed his trousers and boxer briefs down in one fluid motion, letting his cock spring free. Looking up John saw you looking down at him with a pitiful expression.

Then the reality came crashing down. John had seen you like this before. That look of pity and amusement before you toyed with him. Like a cat who had just corned her dinner. You sat in his lap, jeans still fastened to your waist. Reaching down you grasped John’s cock firmly and began to stroke at a painstakingly slow pace. By the way John’s jaw dropped and he choked out a breath you knew this was the first touch he had let himself enjoy for awhile.

“Haven’t jerked off?” You asked pumping his way to thick cock. Leaning down slightly and spitting on the swollen head.

“Haven’t h-“ throwing his head back John let your hand continue to move over his painfully hard cock.

“Use your words.” The sly grin on your face was ignored as your husbands hips involuntarily bucked upward.

“Haven’t had time.” John’s voice sounded so even and normal you knew he mustered up all his strength to say it. To sound confident and self assured like any Captain in the military should and not let you run away with control.

Pushing back you unbuttoned your jeans and started to push them down. Because you were straddling John’s waist it would be a headache to get them off. John was too drunk off the idea of your pussy he was not making the best decisions. Grasping your hips and hoisting you up in the air a few inches off of him. It gave you the room to wiggle out of the skin tight jeans and push them down to your knees.

John smirked seeing your pelvis exposed and neatly trimmed. What neither of you were expecting was his grip to slip and for your ass to fall backward full force into the car horn. The sudden blaring sound made you shriek and leap forward pinning John against the driver seat and your breasts shoved into his face. You grabbed the back of the head rest forcing your body forward and winced at the feeling of John’s jagged chin shoved into your solar plexus.

The laughter that filled that car was one of embarrassment and delight. This would be something you joked about later, your ass being so big it set off a car horn. John did not mind you leaning forward to avoid the steering wheel. This meant having your tits shoved in his face, holding you there, suffocating him as you shimmied out of your jeans. John kissed and sucked on any exposed flesh he could latch his bearded face on to. With one last awkward twist of your body you had your jeans off and threw them into the back seat of the truck.

With huffed laughter you both moved in tandem. It was far from the first time you rode John as he sat in the drivers seat. The only thing that differed was it was a military grade truck not John’s truck with a bench seat. It took a second for you to position yourself comfortably over John’s cock. Accidentally knocking your bare thighs against his very hard and aching member as you found a comfortable position to sit.

It seemed like nothing would be sustainable so you took one leg, hoisted yourself up and put a foot right next to Johns hip. Now perched in a half squat, you had the leverage you needed to bounce up and down. Grasping on to the handle by the drivers side door you smiled sweetly down at your husband.

John had been staring at you dumb struck this whole time. His eyes flickering between your exposed breasts, pretty pussy, and you hovering over his aching cock.

“Please.” John begged.

“Lean back.” You ordered trying to search for the handle on the driver side seat. You could hear John’s hand fumbling around to find the lever so he could lean the seat back.

That was when suddenly his whole upper body fell backward so fast your arms gave out with it and you gasped sharply. John’s head slammed into the cushioned seat head and you tried to catch yourself. You fell forward with your husband, shoving your hands into his burly covered chest to brace yourself. John coughed out a laugh at the sudden forceful movement the both of you giggling at how hard the fall was and then getting back to business.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous. I need you, love.” John growled out. Laying on his back and staring up, you looked ethereal in the glow of the moonlight. It’s soft beams highlighting your beautiful features and making your body look absolutely divine. To this day he still did not understand how he was so lucky.

“You want me that bad?” You sighed out trying to place your hips over John’s bobbing cock.

“Fuckin’ hell Y/N! Just ride me.” John grunted out, hands grabbing your hips harshly and pulling you over his lap.

“Yeah?” You teased.

A sly smile spreading across your lips. John looked desperate and needy for you. His chest already heaving and pupils blown with lust. His eyes were locked on your pretty glistening cunt, his hand moving from your hip so he could rub sloppy circles over your clit with his thumb. You sighed out in pleasure, titling your head back. John had half a mind to pull you all the way up and have you sit on his face but he needed you wrapped around him more than anything at the moment.

“For fu-“ the words fell off as soon as John attempted to scold you. A chocked and breathy moan leaving him.

You sank down on John’s incredibly hard, thick, and swollen cock. Breathing through your nose you gathered any resolve you had as you took all of him. Being filled to the brim like this was only something your husband was capable of doing. Knees shaking slightly and thighs quaking you took a breath. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what his cock was doing to you.

Ignoring the painfully amazing stretch and moans fighting to get out of you, you started to roll your hips. Grinding down on Johns thick cock so you could enjoy how it felt being so full. You started a quick pace. Grabbing onto the handle right above the driver side window you found the perfect balance to ride John.

Bouncing up and down quick and steady, your ass smacked into his partially covered thighs. John felt like he was in a porno with how talented you were above him. You realized you had never rode John so well and you loved watching his face twisted in pleasure as you fucked yourself down on to him. Feeling a sense of pride you continued to bounce quickly, placing your hands on his chest so you could lean forward slightly giving him a better view of your tits.

John was moaning shamelessly as his blue eyes flickered between the sight of your cunt swallowing his heavy cock and your tits bouncing mere inches from his face. All John could do was grip your thighs with bruising force as you rode him mercilessly. The sounds you were making were to much for John to handle, his self control slipping away quickly.

“S-slow down.” The way John begged had you picking up the pace. His words had your cunt clenching around him.

“Gonna cum already? We’ve only just started.” The teasing tone was one John knew all too well. This wasn’t the first time you said those words but tonight the only difference was you were right. John squeezed his eyes shut trying to focus and think of something else.

“Fuck! I’m s-orry” John moaned out loudly, head rolling back. His calloused hands moving from your thighs to your hips to keep you from moving. With a sharp thrust upward John buried himself deeply inside you and came without warning. He was so embarrassed that he could barley focus on the pleasure tearing through his quaking body.

“Did you just?” You were taken aback. You two had only been at it for less than five minutes. If you were honest it felt like it was only a minute or two. No where near as long as it usually lasted or was needed to get you off.

“I’m sorry.” John huffed out. His breath ragged and chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. You weren’t upset at all, just surprised and a little proud of yourself. It made your chest tight to see the way John avoided your eyes, a look of embarrassment washing over his bearded face.

“Hey, it’s totally okay.” You tried to reassure your husband. Still sitting in his lap with one leg raised, his softening length beginning to slip out of you along with his spend.

“No, it’s not.” John grumbled still avoiding your concerned gaze.

“J-“ your words were cut off as his Nokia flip phone began to buzz in the cup holder.

“Bloody hell.” John looked frustrated as he moved to rest on his forearms. Grabbing the phone he put a finger over his lips silently telling you to stay quiet. You moved only slightly so you were straddling his lap and watched as he answered the phone, flipping it open and pressing it to his ear.

“What?” John barked down the line. There was a few seconds of silence as whoever called spoke.

“I’ll be back soon.” There was no need for any goodbyes as John snapped his work phone shut. With a heavy sigh through his nose John laid back down and stared at the trucks ceiling. His hands coming to rest on your bare thighs as his thumbs rubbed comforting circles over your burning skin.

“I’m sorry, darling. This is far from what you expected.” John spoke with his eyes still fixed on the roof.

“John it’s fine. I mean it.” Again you were trying to quell his anxiety of cumming too quick.

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. Same spot, same time.” Moving slowly John sat up and wrapped his strong arms around your waist. Hugging you tightly to his chest and burying his face in the crook of your neck. The humiliation he felt burned hot in his chest and all he could do was try and make it up to you another day. Duty called and he needed to drop you off and be on his way.

“Promise?” You whispered sweetly into his ear and gave him a firm kiss to his temple.

“Promise. Now get dressed I have to get a move on.” The pink tint was still dusting over your husbands cheeks.

Moving awkwardly you got off John’s lap you slid into the passenger seat. He handed you some napkins to clean yourself up. As you reached into the back to put your jeans back on John moved the back rest of his seat to be sitting up properly and fastened his trousers and belt. John chose to not talk about his poor performance and chatted with you about how work was going for you as he drove you to the bar. Kissing you sweetly when the coast was clear John stayed back and made sure you got into the pub safe and sound.

——————

Sitting by the window you found yourself in the sleazy military bar for the second night in a row. When you came back the previous night a few of your colleagues pressured you to tell them where you had gone. Brushing them off did not last long as Sampson revealed you went out with your husband.

Tonight would be the same and they seemed happy for you. Happy that after so much time apart you two were able to see each other even if it was for a limited amount of time. There was little teasing and they all kept it a secret for you, out of respect. No one back at camp needed to know and you appreciated them respecting your privacy.

You sat alone sipping on your drink as you waited for John to pull into the parking lot. He was a half hour late and it made you wonder if he would be coming at all. He was needed at a moments notice so you understood if he could not make it. It still hurt but you were going to keep that to yourself. No need in stressing him out more than he already was.

That was when his military grade truck pulled in and lurched to a halt in the middle of the lot. Quickly you grabbed your bag and waved goodbye to your colleagues. You jogged out to the truck and smiled widely as John leaned over the center console and threw your door open.

“Need a ride?” John had a grin plastered across his face. The stress from yesterday seemed to have been washed away. Leaving the man you fell in love with relaxed and back to his normal self.

“I don’t know, can you handle it?” You teased.

John chuckled darkly at your words. His eyes scanning your body as you hopped in, choosing to stay unbuckled. Johns mind went straight into the gutter seeing you in that powder pink sundress and jean jacket; instantly knowing you had dressed up just for him. You two looked like quite the pair. John’s in beige cargo pants and fitted army green long sleeve and you all dolled up. It was like two worlds had collided.

“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll have you screaming my name in no time.” John was cocky.

The confidence radiating off of him had you on the edge of your seat. You had been so incredibly needy since you saw him the previous night. That’s why you chose to wear this short little dress, it was in hopes to get John to fuck you until all you could remember was his name.

“Oh really?” You asked with an open mouthed grin. Slipping out of your jacket John checked you out from the corner of his eye. He quickly noticed you weren’t wearing a bra and loved how a single spaghetti strap had fallen off your shoulder.

Without hesitation John’s hand reached for you. Finger tips gliding from your knee, up your thigh and then under your skirt, cupping your cunt. You breathed heavy as your head lulled backward and rested against the headrest. The relief of having his worn hand on you was heavenly. John’s hand was cool against your burning skin. Fingers making a v shape as he massaged your lips and palm firmly pressed into your aching clit.

“No knickers?” The words came out as a deep growl.

John was ready to do every dirty little thing that popped into his head. Starting with shoving two digits into your tight heat. Letting out a surprised gasp your legs spread wider giving your husband full access. John shook his head in disapproval as he felt you not nearly wet enough. It stung and burned feeling the calloused pads of John’s finger tips scissoring you open. Retracting his hand you whined at the loss but were quickly shut up. Shoving his fingers into your mouth you turned to see a smug grin on John’s handsome face, his blue eyes fixed on the road.

“Get them nice and wet for me, darling.” The commanding words had you sucking on his thick fingers and rolling them over your tongue. John groaned and pushed them farther down your throat causing you to gag.

“Wish that was my cock don’t you?” John was clearly on some ego trip right now and you were loving it. Nodding your head eagerly you hummed around his digits. Seeing you so eager to take whatever he gave you had him feeling a sense of arrogance. Clearly you were desperate and he was ready to exploit that.

“That’s my girl.” John growled.

Taking his fingers from your mouth he brought his hand back down to your now sopping wet cunt and slid them in as deeply as they could go. A shameless moan left your parted lips and you rolled your hips at how good it felt. You had tried to touch yourself last night before you slept but were unsuccessful. Now being in the palm of John’s hand had your head spinning and the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten.

“Soaked from suckin’ my fingers. I really left you in the lurch last night.” You ignored John’s words not wanting him to lose confidence. John had chalked the previous night up to you riding him like a pro and the fact he had not gotten off in almost three weeks.

“Feels s’good, John.” You moaned loudly as his fingers curled and began to massage that squishy spot inside you. The warmth in your abdomen was spreading and you swore if John kept this up you’re whole body would catch fire.

“Hm, hop in the back. I’ll make it feel better.” That’s when you realized John had just killed the engine.

John had gotten you all the way out here and parked but you were to dumb at the moment to realize. Fingers still sheathed inside you, John was now turned and fully facing you. He pulled out for only a second and pushed back in after he repositioned his wrist. Moving you rested your back against the passenger door and spread yourself open for John’s hungry eyes to feast on. The sight of you red faced, doe eyed, and with his fingers fucking into you was delicious. You looked so innocent in your pink dress and John wanted to ruin you.

“What? This feel to good?” The teasing and mocking had just begun and you knew you were in for one hell of a night.

You nodded dumbly at your husband which only spurred him on. It felt too good. So good you were becoming embarrassed at the fact you were getting close from nothing but his fingers. The squelch of your cunt filled the still air as John finger fucked you at a ruthlessly fast pace. It made his arm ache but the sounds you were making were worth it.

“Fuck!” You half screamed throwing your head back and accidentally knocking it against the window. One hand was gripping the passenger seat while the other moved down and rubbed your needy clit. John was striking your g-spot with every quick and calculated thrust of his fingers, reducing you to a babbling mess begging him to keep going.

“Just like that!” The words came out choked as you felt that building sensation swell in your lower abdomen. It felt like you were about to burst at the seams.

“Cum on my hand.” John ordered and you obeyed like the good wife you were.

Being a moaning mess your eyes fluttered open wanting to look deep into John’s eyes as you came. You knew it would give him the biggest ego boost to watch you come undone from his fingers. The smug smile he wore and the thought of his mouth possibly being on you had you clenching tightly around his fingers as you came with his name falling from your lips. John groaned from deep in his chest as you kept eye contact while your cunt spasmed around his digits. He worked you through your orgasm and slowed down once he saw you had reached your peak and were finally coming down.

“Get in the back. I’m far from done with you.” John pulled his fingers from you and admired the mess you had made on his hand. You were still breathing heavy and your head was spinning so obeying his orders wasn’t as quick as it normally was.

Without warning you watched as John began to get out of the truck, his sticky wet fingers finding their way into his own mouth so he could have a taste. He sucked and licked his fingers as if he was cleaning them off after eating a rack of ribs. The sight had your thighs pressing together and a pathetic whimper rolling from your tongue. You pushed your skirt down and fumbled to get into the back seat. Eyes still locked on John as he swung the door open and you crawled into the back over the center console.

“On your back.” John ordered as he got back into the truck.

Listening immediately you laid down with your head a few inches from the door, attempting to give your much larger husband the room he needed. John was quick to push your skirt up and stare down at your bare cunt. Your cheeks reddened as you watched him examine you in almost a clinical way. Thumb finding one of your lips and spreading you open to get a better look. The desire from before had fluttered away and was replaced by pure determination. John had every intention of indulging himself later, for now his goal was to make you cum one more time. Make you feel just as good as you made him feel the previous night.

“What do you want, darling?” John needed to know exactly what you craved so he could give it to you. Let you tell him your every desire. John wanted you coming undone just as quick as he did.

“Fuck me, please.” The words came out as a shaky breath.

A devilish grin spread across John’s face making his mustache twitch in delight. The clink of his belt unbuckling was music to your ears. John grabbed the thigh you had bent and resting against the back rest and tugged your toward him. The motion had you gasping and made your dress bunch up around your waist. Looking down you watched John tug his pants and briefs down just enough to free himself. You felt exposed with your skirt flipped up like this and John staying completely clothed. His incredibly large cock was hard and standing at attention.

“Fuck, love. I need a taste first.” Dipping down John buried his face between your thighs.

Your hands shot forward grasping his hat and chucking it into the front seat so you could run your fingers through his short hair. John chuckled into your sweet folds as he basically made out with your pretty cunt. This was more for his pleasure than yours. He loved running his tongue from your entrance then up to your clit, planting sloppy open mouth kisses over the bundle. The feeling of your things fighting against his grip as you tried to trap his head. It was an absolute power trip to have you squirming and moaning all from the way he was sucking on your clit.

“Need you.” The words left your lips and died off as a moan ripped from your throat. John was flicking his tongue fast and rough over you.

“Such a pretty little thing.” John murmured as he pulled away. You went wide eyed as he spat on your glistening folds and then rubbed the saliva over your puffy clit. God, that was hot.

“John, pl-“

“No need to beg. I’ll fill you up and fuck you just how you like.” You whimpered at John’s sultry voice.

Heart rate sky rocketing as he positioned himself over you. One hand on the seat just above your head to keep himself balanced while the other cupped your breast through the fabric of your dress. Pulling down the straps John exposed your heaving chest to him. Dipping down and placing sensual kisses along your collar bone. Your dress was now pooled around your waist leaving you completely exposed besides your rib cage. You were painfully aware that John was fully dressed but for some reason you felt to meek to try and take off his long sleeve.

You jumped slightly feeling Johns swollen cock head nudge at your entrance. Reaching between your bodies as John continued to kiss and suck on your pert nipples you grasped his thick length. Tugging him forward, you guiding him into you. The pair of your moaned in unison as he sank into your warm wetness slowly.

Taking control back John swatted your hand away and pushed forward bottoming out. A strangled moan left you as you tried to adjust to his impressive size. The stretch burned and he was so deep you swore you could see him bulging from your tummy. Your hands were fisting Johns long sleeve shirt as he snapped his hips fast and hard into you. Giving you little time to adjust to his huge size John began pounding into you. You couldnt help the screams of pleasure that tore from your throat as his balls slapped into you ass. Your wetness coating his heavy balls making them stick slightly to his thighs. Bare skin rubbing and pinching against the cool leather seat beneath your sweaty body, you held your breath at the force of John’s thrusts.

“Take it.” John grunted through gritted teeth.

Hazy blue eyes fixed on the way your tits bounced as he fucked you hard and fast. It was desperate and dirty taking you like this in the back of his work truck. Getting to finally take out every bit of frustration he had on your tight cunt. His thrust were so powerful the truck began to lightly sway back and forth. The sound of metal lightly squeaking joining the sounds of your moans and skin slapping.

“Slow do-wn.” You stuttered out.

“Going to cum already, darling? We’ve only just started.” John mocked you, using your same words from the previous night.

“Cumming!” You practically screamed.

Back arching and going crossed eyed. The pleasure tearing through your body was white hot and so intense it took a moment to realize John had his tongue in your mouth attempting to quiet your loud moans. John had a smug grin plastered across his bearded face as he kissed you sloppily. The taste of tobacco and yourself on his tongue. It was gratifying reducing you to a sputtering, babbling, mess underneath him. Loving how your cunt tried to squeeze the life out of his pulsing cock.

“Still with me?” John purred in your ear. Placing wet kisses against your neck.

“Y-yes.” You whispered. Little grunts and pathetic whimpers being pushed out of you as John continued his brutal pace. Sitting up slightly John hoisted both of your legs up, catching them by the knees. He crossed them and pushed them down so you were folded in half with both knees thrown over one of his broad shoulders. The angle was rough stretching you out more than you were use to. You cried out at the intense pleasure and boarder like pain the feeling of overstimulation beginning to take over.

“Cum please” you begged head thrown back and hair a mess. John groaned deeply seeing you like this. Eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open, body quaking and begging for him to finish. You looked so pretty all fucked out for him.

“Yeah, where do you want it?” John taunted. Moving only slightly to get better leverage. John was practically in a push-up position as he slammed into you with his whole body weight.

“Fuck! Inside me!” Your voice was high pitched as you held on to John’s shirt with knuckles turning white. Finally freeing his mind of lasting long and fucking you senseless John’s gaze darted down to watch his cock split you open. It never took long watching him stuff you with his meaty girth. The truck began to rock back and forth more violently as John fucked you the hardest he had in awhile. He was close watching you pant underneath him, hiccuping out your breath at each slam of his hips.

“God, I’m not going to be able to walk straight.” You whispered eyes fixed on where your bodies connected. Just the thought of you limping around from getting fucked so good was enough for John to lose his inabition. With an almost anamalistoc grunt John ground his hips against you and then with a single sharp thrust that had you yelping he buried himself inside your sore cunt. Releasing a harsh gasp and a slight higher pitched moan John shot thick white ropes into you.

“So, good.” John buried his face in your neck as he weakly rolled his hips.

“John, n-no more. Please.” You breathed out feeling weak. Your legs were shaking and your muscles ached from being bent in half.

“Let me clean you up.” John muttered kissing your swollen lips sweetly and allowing your legs to fall limply from his shoulder. You could only nod being absolutely exhausted and slightly dazed. John took a mental picture of you. Laying there, pretty pink dress bunched around your hips, tits out, and his cum leaking out of you and down your thigh.

——————

“You okay, Indy?” Sampson voice sounded from outside your tent.

“Uh, not really. I think I need to lay down for the day.” You peaked out seeing him staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” He asked attempting to step in. You quickly waved your hand for him to stop.

“Girl problems.” You lied. The look on his face was one of horror. It was comical that just the mention of your period had him so flustered.

“Yeah of course. Feel better.” Samson’s cleared his throat and quickly retreated.

With a sigh you waddled slightly back into your tent. Staring at yourself in the mirror you shimmied out of you leggings to inspect the damage once again. Twisting slightly you winced as you took in the state of your inner thighs. There were two long bruises, one on each thigh that stretched from about four inches. You could literally see the impression of John’s hip bones etched in your body.

“Cheeky fucker.” You mumbled to yourself. Taking out your phone you snapped a few pictures. With a giddy smile you sent them to John with the caption. ‘Had to take today off because of your handy work.’

John responded a lot quick thank you were expecting. You rolled your eyes, and could hear his gruff voice in your head as you read his message.

‘You’re welcome, darling. I’ll make sure to leave more next week.’

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea

[music-as-a-haunting]

time for me to answer the question thats been plagueing this fandom (me) for centuries (minutes)

How Often Did the M*A*S*H Crew Attend Mulcahy’s Services?

Colonel Blake

Henry would attend for holidays and whenever he felt he had a personal crisis. Lorraines affair, his second child, those were times where Henry would be on the front pew trying his best to focus on the sermon (and failing, groaning with his head in his hands and distracting the father terribly).

Colonel Potter

Colonel Potter is almost always there Sunday morning, 5 minutes before so he can nab his usual spot (even though everyone knows not to sit there). The only times he doesnt make it (besides emergencies of course) are those rare, beautiful mornings where his body practically pulls him up and onto Sophie for an early morning ride.

Major Freedman

Sidney tries to attend a service whenever he’s in town, mostly because he enjoys Francis’ unique perspective in his sermons, but he also has a self described intellectual fascination with all different religions. He has all different religious scriptures in his office in Tokyo, he brushes up as often as he can so he can better relate to his religious patients.

Majors Houlihan/ Burns

I put these two together because they only go together unless the other is sick or indisposed, in which case the former doesn’t go at all. They attend regularly unless they’re preoccupied… 😉

Major Winchester

Charles never cared for church, he almost never goes unless he’s truly bored out of his skull- or on holidays. When he lived with his parents in Boston he would make excuses to why he wasn’t able to attend, a habit he curiously continues with Pierce and Hunnicut even though they couldn’t care less. All about keeping up his image, I guess?

Trapper/Hawkeye/BJ

Another case of both parties going or neither going at all. Trapper and Hawkeye wouldn’t go unless they could tell Francis was low in spirits, both trying to lift him up by attending and singing the hymns as over-the-top as they could. Hawk and BJ keep that tradition alive, but BJ drags Hawkeye to a few additional services when he can, too.

Klinger

Klinger LOVES going to church even though he isn’t religious. He gets to show off his best outfits, sing his heart out, and (most of the time) spend quality time with Mulcahy, Potter, and Radar. He only doesn’t go when he’s too hungover or tired from excessive weekend debauchery but he keeps a lid on that since he loses most of his money gambling on Fridays.

Radar

Radar didn’t go to church as often when Henry was in command, though he still attended at least once a month as a promise to his mother. He goes more often now that Potter is around because of that paternal bonding he doesn’t even realize his subconscious is seeking. He also genuinely likes sticking around to ask Mulcahy questions about the bible. He loves some of the larger than life books of the old testament- people like Sampson and Androcles remind him of his favorite comic book heroes which Francis invokes to help him relate to the scripture.

[todaysdocument]

“Deborah Gannett . . . maketh oath, that she served as a private soldier, under the name of Robert Shurtliff in the war of the revolution . . .” 

Pension and Bounty Land Application of Deborah (Sampson) Gannett, September 14, 1818. 

Record Group 15: Records of the Department of Veterans Affairs Series: Case Files of Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Applications Based on Revolutionary War Service

Transcription: 

United States-.

Massachusetts District

Deborah Gannett, of Sharon, in the county of Norfolk, and

District of Massachusetts, a resident and native of the United

States, and applicant for a pension from the United States

under an Act of Congress entitled an Act to provide to certain

persons engaged in the land and naval service of the

United States, in the revolutionary war, maketh oath, that she

served as a private soldier, under the name of Robert Shurtliff

in the war of the revolution, upwards of two years in manner

following vis - Enlisted in April 1781 in the company commanded

by Captain George Webb in the Massachusetts Regiment

commanded then by Colonel Shepherd, and afterwards by Colonel Henry

Jackson and served in said corps in Massachusetts, and

New York - until November 1783 - when she was honorably discharged

in writing. which discharge is lost. During the time of her service

she was at the capture of Lord Cornwallis, was wounded

at Tarrytown and now receives a pension from the United

States, which pension she hereby relinquishes. She is in such

reduced circumstance, as to require the aid of her country

for her support.

Deborah Gannett

Masstts. Dist. Septr. 14. 1818

Sworn to before me

Jno Davis

Dist. Judge

Mass. Dist.

[vixenihy]

Can you tell me more about your OC Patrick Fitzgerald? I tried finding the tag but it seems you haven't posted anything here yet? I'd love to know what your inspiration was, and literally anything about this character! Is he a fictional alternate version of JFK or something? Please tell me everything, I'm dying to know!

I WOULD BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO!!! sorry about not updating on my side blog 🥲 i am terrible with posting on my other blogs lol.

he isn’t an alternate version of jfk!! though he WAS inspired by him. the similarities between them is mainly in generation, ethnicity, and wealth (even though patiricks family does not hold nearly as much fortune as the kennedys)

patrick was born on november 19, 1922 in manhattan, new york. he grew up tje middle child of 5 to a wealthy stockbroker named Sean Patrick Fitzgerald. technically he’s a sr because back then the firstborn son would usually take the fathers name, but shhh.

during ww2, patrick enlisted in the u.s. air force with his childhood best friend, charles woodson jr, and they were stationed in britain to fight in the european theatre as part of the eagle squadron/8th bomber command.

in 1943, during a night mission that would take them over occupied france — which was outside of their training abilities — patrick and charlie were ambushed by an enemy plane and they crashed into occupied french territory.

charlie was killed and patrick was severely injured. since he was alive, he was taken to a pow camp and was held there for about 6 months before being released as the liberation campaign closed in during june of 1944. due to the events of the war, patrick suffers from severe ptsd and has multiple scars across his body. throughout the late 1940s into the mid 1980s, patrick rose to fame as a famous hollywood actor and was renowned for his work and abilities up until his death in 1997. i made him friends with the kennedys bc he’s my oc and i decide when to insert my special interests into the story.

my girlfriend made a wife for him :)) her name is beatrice sampson fitzgerald!! they’re grossly in love LOL.

i’d be happy to share more about him through more asks or dms!!!

[garland-on-thy-brow]

Post prompted by: a friend reading Gareth Sampson's Defeat Of Rome.

One of the assumptions that informs Sampson's overall approach to the information is "the extant tradition on the Parthian campaign unjustly favours Cassius; while in reality his "letting Crassus down" is blameworthy". I find that this approach ignores critical questions which are to be addressed before it can be justifiably applied.

A while ago I have already said a similar thing on the same subject; but this one is probably better phrased, so here goes.

In my opinion, there is an argument that challenges the assumption "our sources on the Parthian campaign unjustly favour Cassius" -

namely, that Cassius was the target of triumviral hostility from 44 bce onwards and the target of the principate's hostility ever after. His detractors would be eager to bring up any misdeeds of his that they could have found or imagined.

If it was POSSIBLE to paint Cassius' portrait as a fickle, self-serving deserter who left his commander to die (foreshadowing his betrayal of Caesar *), and even the cause of the post-Carrhae catastrophe (foreshadowing the murder of Caesar as yet another catastrophe) - it strains credulity, or at any rate demands an explanation, that the triumvirate would have entirely passed up this opportunity **.

And if the opportunity was there and was taken, if that damning alternative tradition did exist, one has to (a) offer an explanation how come this condemnation does not trickle into our surviving sources on the Parthian campaign, and/or (b) show where it does (the latter option would in turn lead to reevaluating the tradition as not entirely favourable to Cassius - which again would require Sampson to nuance his approach). Granted, Plutarch in the Crassus is writing a theatre play (which, by the way, means reworking of his multiple sources, rather than reproducing Cassius' actual point of view). What of Dio? What of the eminently judgemental Caesarian Val Max? What of all the others? When Velleius Paterculus (2.46) introduces Cassius at the time of the Parthian campaign as “Gaius Cassius, later the perpetrator of a most atrocious crime, and at that time quaestor” - would he not be tempted to mention that even at that time, Cassius already showed his colours?

[* The relationship between the quaestor and his commanding officer was seen as filial. The assassination of Caesar was notably presented by the triumvirate as a parricide. Does it not seem like a perfect rhetorical opportunity that must have been taken, if Cassius' actions in regards to Crassus could have been presented as letting him down?

** If the second triumvirate did not criticize Cassius for the events of Crassus' campaign, it is especially interesting because Cassius attempted to work with Parthians in the course of 43-42 bce (which also gave us Labienus) - one would think this presented ample rhetorical opportunities.

(Side note, it also connects interestingly with how Pompey allegedly considered going to Parthia. And maybe with Antony calling everyone he does not like Pompeians. This is not a finished thought, just pointing to the dots which could be connected).]

To put it another way - based on the extant information, I see how Cassius' actions can be presented as in Sampson. And the worthwhile question is - why do the sources not present them this way? What information did they have and we do not that could have led to the tradition looking as it is?

[letsplaydcttrpg]

Racing With the Rats pt 25 - Yet Another Day Yet Another Dollar

Start this module here!

Previous part here!

Links to all posts for this module in the pinned post!

Off to work!

You arrive at work run down and weary. The buzzing in your head has become increasingly painful. You've had this headache for three days now. Why hasn't it gone away? The red light on your answering machine is blinking, but with the events of the last two days, you've learned not to bother with it. Miss Tremayne has not yet at the office [sic]. There is a note on your desk: Mr. Green would like to see you. You move on into Mr. Green's office. "You have a very busy day today, Holland. The Sleepease account is almost wrapped up. I don't want any slipups." "Yes, Mr. Green." "All right now, at 1:00 PM the senior partners in the firm are going to meet in the conference room to discuss your resource allocation strategy. I don't think I need to tell you that if your strategy bombs out, it could be very damaging to the confidence our client has placed in you." You meet his gaze with silence. The buzzing in your head is a rodent, happily chewing away on your nerve endings. "Attend that meeting Holland. And I want you to convince the partners to see things your way." "Yes, sir." "And remember, you have a presentation with the Sleepease executives scheduled for 3:30. For your own sake, you'd better not be late." "Yes, Mr. Green." You manage to drag your body out of Mister Green's office and back into your own. For brief little spurts of time now and again, the buzzing pulse in your head begins to take control of your body, preventing it from answering your own mental commands. Miss Tremayne has left a message on your desk from a Mister Calkins of the Calkins and Calkins law firm. He's been trying to reach you for days. You pick up the phone to return his call but discover that Miss Tremayne neglected to get his number. What could the lawyers possibly want? That's something else to worry about, but you've no time to worry about it now. You've got to get ready for the senior partners' meeting. If your resource allocation strategy isn't approved, it could be a serious setback for the Sleepease account.

Whoops, there goes the Sanity we got back this morning, we're back at 7/12.

At 1:00 PM you shuffle into the conference room to attend the meeting of the firm's senior partners. They will be voting on the resource allocation strategy you devised for the Sleepease account. The meeting is extremely important. A negative vote could be disastrous. Should the partners reject your strategy, a new strategy would have to be devised, and the Sleepease executives would lose a great deal of confidence in your personally. After just a few minutes, you begin to grow disgusted with the whole affair. The texture of the "debate" greatly resembles the tight buzzing that echoes in your head. If one partner is fond of another, he or she will favor any position taken up by his or her compatriot, while a partner that loathes another will do anything to confound the other's interests. Very little of the discussion is centered around the merit of your proposal. A ridiculously small amount of time has been allotted for you to address the meeting. Your strategy is to pick the right partner and focus your entire brief speech upon him or her, hopefully causing a quorum of the others to fall into line. There are seven partners in all: Mr. Russell, Miss Simmons, Mr. MacGalvary, Mr. Baker, Miss Schute, Mr. Sampson, and Miss Sherman.

Skill check time! So we're faced with four potential outcomes, depending on how well we do, so I'm going to list out the Hero Point options on this roll based on what we would need to roll to get the best outcome. We have 20 Hero Points to spend, and we're on Day 3 out of 4 total days.

[theillustratedwriter]

Sunlit Moonrise | Daechwita Min Yoongi/Agust D x OC (Royalty/Fantasy AU)

Sunlit Moonrise Masterlist

Chapter 1

<Previous Chapter

!!SUNLIT MOONRISE IS A MULTI-CHAPTER STORY AND NOT A ONE-SHOT SO IT DOES NOT MAKE SENSE IF YOU READ SINGLE CHAPTERS OUT OF CONTEXT. IF YOU ENJOYED THIS PLEASE READ PREVIOUS CHAPTERS LINKED ABOVE TO UNDERSTAND THE ENTIRE STORY!!

Chapter 9: The Fox, The Owl and The Rat

King Min is restless, now more than ever, without Advisor Hwang beside him to whisper exhortations to entice the snarling fox he keeps locked deep within. Advisor Hwang represents the emotions he cannot and will not express. He paces away in the confines of his chambers, cowering, almost, in his den, as Caylus Sampson continues to soar around Coimeach Pass, cornering him with the simple threat of what an owl's wings could bear. His scar begins to sear- a tell-tale sign that his cold demeanour is fading, fast.

Lord Highmarch returns with Sir Conall, Sir Davys, Dowager Queen Min Chinsun, and Preacher Elisedd, the Head of Holy Affairs in Vulstis. 

Sir Conall clicks his heels in greeting, as is the custom of all men in the Vulstis Guard, before addressing King Min. "Your Grace, we could not locate Advisor Hwang. None of us have seen nor heard from him since the Council meeting."

"None of you?" King Min asks pointedly, raising his eyebrows at Sir Davys, the man who has eyes and ears everywhere.

"The five of us here have not, Your Grace," a cheeky smile graces Sir Davys's lips as he continues, "as for the people in Skulk Square and in the northern Nnidhal District, however, they spotted him riding towards the coal mines." 

King Min sucks on the inside of his cheeks in a futile attempt to keep all his amounting emotions under wraps. He decides to check the first concern off his exceedingly long list. 

"Sir Conall, you told me you put your best men on Coimeach Pass. Why was Caylus Sampson able to take it so easily? You should've had the upper hand, it's a stronghold after all!" King Min leans on his writing desk, finger nails scraping deeply into the polished oak. He stares at his commander from beneath long eyelashes, dark eyes swimming with menacing emotions ready to come crashing out. 

"That's what's odd, Your Grace. I questioned the survivors, and they all said they were sleeping. No one was assigned to the night watch, even though my Generals' records show the rotas and which men should have been awake. Caylus Sampson and his men essentially walked in unchallenged." Sir Conall informs, unwavering but internally petrified under the scrutiny of his King. 

"It is almost as if there is a rat messing with us." Lord Highmarch chimes in, everyone in the room chilling at the possibility that Vulstis could be in imminent danger, and Caylus Sampson is the least of all their problems. He checks King Min's second concern off- though he hates to suspect his most loyal charge, could Advisor Hwang be that rat? 

"Both of us." Sir Davys adds gravelly, each of them turning to look at him quizzically. "As much as we don't like to admit it, we know Caylus Sampson well. He used to be one of us. I know he wouldn't have even thought about invading Vulstis territory, let alone Coimeach Pass, unless someone had assured him that Prince Jimin and Verectias wouldn't reprimand him for doing so. He is a man of honour, and would not want to endanger the entirety of Patrinis. The last thing he would want is a confrontation with the Protector of the Future."

It is silent for a moment as Sir Davys's words are digested. King Min hates that he is right, but he knows that Caylus Sampson is the most honourable man in all of Patrinis. 

"I have not yet had any word from Verectias Palace." King Min says apprehensively. Could Advisor Hwang have told Caylus Sampson that he had the King of Vulstis's permission to obtain Coimeach Pass despite having no such thing, and now the coward is running in the complete opposite direction? If so, King Min would rather pretend he thinks the rat is someone else, rather than parade the fact that Vulstis has been played the fool in front of both Nocriam and Verectias. 

"I did not raise you to be this stupid, boy!" Min Chinsun snaps. "Honestly, it takes doves two days just to deliver mail from Verectias Palace. It's all the way up in those wretched mountains, for crying out loud! Caylus Sampson wouldn't have received a warning yet, and as soon as he does, I'll bet my corset he'll retreat immediately whether he has his daughter or not."

The mention of the fiery-haired woman distracts King Min from the fact that his mother is too honest and logical for her own good. Aine Sampson. The perfect person to play the part of the rat. 

"Aine." he spits through gritted teeth.

Ever since he brought her to Vulstis, everything has gone wrong. She is everything wrong in his life, and yet wherever he goes, whatever he does, she is there. At this point, her existence is just to mock him, and the cold King's resolve is starting to crack. Whether these occurrences are purely coincidental or due to her actually having divine powers and enacting her wrath on him as promised, he does not care. He just wants her gone, to stop following him so he can once again live in peace as the Protector of the Past. She is the perfect scape-goat. The perfect rat to avoid Vulstis's embarrassment.

"Your Grace?" Preacher Elisedd questions calmly, having been an observer up until now. His skills in Holy matters not being much use.

"Aine Sampson. I want her gone. Forever. Preacher Elisedd, mother, you will find her guilty of being the rat." King Min commands.

"But, Your Grace!" Sir Davys attempts to protest. 

Sir Conall's jaw slackens at the King's verdict but, unlike Sir Davys, he does not attempt to vocalise his thoughts. Lord Highmarch smiles silently to himself. Min Chinsun stares blankly at her son, trying to recognise the man that stands before her.

"Your King commands it." King Min states.

Preacher Elisedd nods in perturbed acknowledgment. "I will do as the Gods see fit."

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

"Well, I'm exhausted." Rian breathes, placing his sword back into the stack.

"And that's why you have a scar on your face." Aine quips, twirling her sword proudly in her hand. The sheen of sweat on her forehead and messy hair betray her, though, as Rian had definitely put her through her paces. 

"Careful, now, I still don't know whether I'm willing to forgive you for that." Rian teases, caressing his scarred lip.

"Seriously?! You were the one that wanted my help to pull your wobbly tooth out! It just went a bit wrong..." Aine pushes back, crossing her arms. 

"I'm just kidding. Besides, now I look more badass!" 

Aine rolls her eyes, noticing how dark the sky is becoming in the process.

"I best go and pray in the Royal Chapel before it becomes too late. You should, too." Aine almost commands. 

Rian scoffs, going to retrieve the neglected bow he had been intending to fix earlier. "Nocriam sure has rubbed off on you. Us of lower station in Vulstis pray in our houses in the mornings. We are not allowed in the Royal Chapel." As a child, Aine used to complain about prayer, but since going to evening prayer like clockwork in the Holy Kingdom of Nocriam, it has become a habit. It is also another excuse to avoid going back to her room where she'll be suffocated by memories of her mother. 

Aine winces, shooting her friend an apologetic glance for her ignorance. Rian shakes his head, unbothered, and waves her off.

"You might want to clean up!" he yells after her.

Aine deadpans, but soon realises that her painfully uncomfortable up-do from this morning has fallen completely loose and her hair is freely flowing down her back once more. Random pins stick out of it in obscure directions. Her dress has scuff marks and some fraying threads from where Rian's blade had caught the long sleeves a few times. She simply huffs, bringing her hair forward to shield the plunging neckline from any more prying eyes. She is only going to pray, Preachers are not supposed to judge. 

The Royal Chapel cannot hold a torch to anything in Nocriam, which is to be expected. Where Nocriam uses white marble, Vulstis uses charcoal covered stone. Where Nocriam uses architecture that gives the impression that one is walking with the Gods, Vulstis uses gothic architecture that grimly reminds one that they are very much still on Earth. Vulstis keeps one grounded, whereas Nocriam puts one's head in the clouds. The only things that are the same are the grand statues of the Sun God and the Moon God at the end of the aisle as well as the Holy Scriptures. 

"Welcome, my child." Preacher Elisedd greets with open arms, grasping the Holy Scriptures in his left hand. His robes are a simple brown and held together with a single gold rope. 

"Hello, Preacher." Aine replies, her eyes travelling back over the aisle. Her heart stops when she spots The Dowager Vixen in all her royal glory bent over in prayer before the statue of the Moon God. Her eyes dart back to Preacher Elisedd, who offers her a kind smile as they begin their stroll towards the statue of the Sun God. 

"My name is Preacher Elisedd, I am the head of this chapel. Are you here for evening prayer?" 

"Yes, Preacher Elisedd." Aine confirms, ignoring Min Chinsun beside her and putting her faith first, kneeling on her hands and knees and thanking the Sun God for all that is good and bright in her life. 

She rises after a while and kisses the hand of the Sun God's statue, manoeuvring over to kneel before the Moon God. She repents for all the bad and dark things that the Moon God has decided just punishment to plague her life with. As she goes to stand once more, The Dowager Vixen stops her.

"Did you help your father invade Coimeach Pass, child?" 

Aine turns slowly, eyes wide. Did I mishear?  

"What?" Is all she can manage. 

"I know you are not hard of hearing. Confess. Here, before the Gods." Min Chinsun orders, fierce and unmoving as ever. 

"My father is in Vulstis? Why would he...?" Aine whispers. She tries desperately to find the fearless warrior within her, but the little girl who would cradle in the safety of her mother's lap presides. And so, helplessly, she collapses to the ground beneath the magnificence of the Moon God's statue, its silver eyes boring into her soul. 

Staring back, bottom lip quivering, Aine monologues. "Why would he do that? He knows that Verectias will come for him. If I lose him, I don't know what I will do." She bows her head. "Oh, Holy God of the Moon, spare me this injustice, I beg of you!" 

"Come, dear Aine, stand." Preacher Elisedd offers, pulling Aine off the floor. She looks at the elderly man and the Dowager Queen with glossy eyes. Pleading eyes. Anyone but my father.

"She didn't know." Min Chinsun states.

Preacher Elisedd nods sweetly.

"Forgive me, girl, but both your father and Vulstis have been played for fools. My son thinks you're the rat that's been playing us and let your father in. Your confession just now confirmed my suspicions: it's not you. Preacher Elisedd and I now need to figure out a way to convince the King." The Dowager Queen explains, a smile of respect gracing her hardened features. 

Aine's worry does not ease- King Min's thoughts are usually set in stone. 

"Leave it the hands of the Gods." Preacher Elisedd suggests. Aine is perplexed as that could go any way, but Min Chinsun seems to pick up on a different meaning. "Follow me." 

Preacher Elisedd leads the way to a secluded crypt full of the previous Kings of Vulstis, overlooked again by a smaller version of the Sun and Moon God statues. Preacher Elisedd stops right before the smaller Moon God statue and clasps its hand, twisting it to the left three times. The floor beneath Aine lurches before giving way to reveal a staircase and a well-lit corridor. 

"The answers lie below, my child."

Does Aine entirely trust these people? No. Does she have any other choice? No. If she runs now, she'll look suspicious. With that, she plods down the staircase and watches as the trapdoor closes behind her. Only onwards now. 

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

A/N: Well then, a lot happened there! King Caylus makes his return hehehe. I wonder what's at the end of the corridor? Do you think Preacher Elisedd and Min Chinsun are on Aine's side or do you think it's a trap? 

Sunlit Moonrise Masterlist

Chapter 1

<Previous Chapter

[cinnamon-j-scudworth]

Fanfiction

Relationship: Joan and Candide

Word count: 963

Summary: Joans still not used to being 20 years in the future

Joan stomped her foot angrily as She took her pointer finger and violently swiped at the screen "Ugh!" She groaned as she threw her phone across the room almost immediately regretting the decision as she realized they weren't nearly as strong as they were back in 2003. Still angry and stomping her feet She went over to grab her phone which now had a spider webbed crack in it "stupid phone I wish toots hadn't lost my damn Nokia now that was a good phone-" She said with a smile on her face almost reminiscing. She paused as she looked at her new iPhone x- something or another her foster mom (candide Sampson) had gotten for her claiming it was one of the newer ones. Joan knew logically that she should be grateful and that it was probably quite a bit of money (even though that never seemed like an issue for Candide) still Joan didn't like it. It was far too hard to use and it made her physilly legs act up whenever somebody tried to explain a new feature to her. All she wanted from a phone what's the ability to call her friends and play Snake. That game didn't even seem to be so popular anymore. It was all very upsetting and distressing to Joan. It made her want to cry and at the same time it made her so angry she could cuss.

Candide walked in to see her daughter (er- foster daughter-) holding her phone and looking at it Like it was going to give her some disease "what?" She said her voice, sounding gruff "something wrong with the phone I got you?" Candide Asked thinking it was going to just be some boring teenage drama shit like Joan being upset that the phone wasn't the brand newest one on the market. "You know if you don't like the phone I got you I can always give you a damn flip phone-" She said preemptively Just assuming what Joan was going to say and she wanted to be the one in control in the situation.

Joan had mainly not been listening to her foster mom. She just stared at the phone, her leg twitching as she reminisced. Only for her to immediately be snapped out of it by the 'offer' of a flip phone. She looked up at her wide eyes, dropping the phone on the ground again. She rushed over and hugged her without almost a second of hesitation, completely misunderstanding the tone that candide had taken.

"Yes! Yes! Please!"

Candide was almost immediately uncomfortable with a hug not being the touchy feely person nor did she understand why Joan was so happy at what she was trying to make into a punishment. "Ew first of all do not touch me" She grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her off and took a few steps back to establish a distance. "Secondly, do you even know what I said?" She asked raising an eyebrow

Joan nodded "mhm! You said that if I don't like this phone You'll give me a flip phone- I don't like this phone, I don't like it at all! It's too confusing!! And too fragile I don't get how much of it works! I just want my old phone back! That was simple. It was easy. I don't know why I need this new thing. My old phone worked great!" The more she talked about her old phone the more her legs started to twitch. "Everybody else is so happy with their new technology but I don't need it! It's stupid! Stupid! Back in my day-" her leg was twitching violently at this point

Candide Who was just watching her rant began to grow increasingly concerned (totally not because she cared but because Joan was the top candidate for operation spread eagle) grabbed her by the shoulders ``calm down! Calm the fuck down soilder!" She snapped her voice, sounding as if she was a sergeant in the military with the amount of power she carried in that one command. Joan almost immediately stopped and looked up at her like a deer in headlights. "Dear lord Joan, if you wanted a different phone that bad all you had to do was ask-'' she sighed and grabbed her by the wrist as she dragged her upstairs and into her bedroom. "Sit on my bed and Wait"

Candide then went into her closet rummaging around for a little bit and emerged with a box. She sighed and looked at Joan "this has all of my old phones in it, they all still work fine and come with the chargers they've all been completely reset as well.So go wild" She placed the box beside Joan.

Joan looked up at her glancing a few times at the box then back up to ask "I-i can I have one?" She asked, almost crying.

Candide groaned clearly annoyed "one? I'm Giving you the box. You can work your way up to new technology or whatever or keep the old one- I don't really care but I don't want to see you throwing around 900 dollars worth of technology again!" She said pinching the bridge of her nose causing her glasses to slide up slightly

Joans face twisted into a massive smile as she tackled and hugged her from the side. The sudden movement caused the box of phones to fall off the bed. Candide giggled softly small enough for it to not even really be registerable as she hugged her back. And looking down at the box both knew not one was cracked.

[gremlinenthusiast]

My D&D Party Nonsense

Cibal montague: The mostly pacifist Halfling Rogue / Artificer Cibal was my first ever Dnd character, he's a middle aged man who likes woodcarving and carpentry; he's a great shot with a crossbow and he's the product of a mostly isolated halfling village called Cobbleston. He started the campaign without any real concept of what death was, or at least didn't understand that it was a bad thing to kill someone and experienced an immense change in his morals early on, quickly becoming a pacifist and the moral compass of the entire party by default, despite the fact that he had 0 charisma and little to no understanding about the world. Among a bunch of things, here are the highlights of Cibal's experiences throughout the campaign -Received a prophecy from his lying alcoholic grandfather (No one including Cibal knew his name so he was just called Grandpa Montague) that he would leave the village he grew up in, go on an adventure and lose his arm in the process. -Skinned a kobold while they were asleep because he though they were already dead (the screams haunted him for months) -Got his hand covered in Tarrasque semen, which was pitch black and could be manipulated in all sorts of strange ways (Including forming it into a massive ballista that he and his party used to kill an avatar of yog-sothoth) -Set fire to a city in the underdark with alcohol produced by an alchemy jug (Everyone told him it was stupid, he showed them) -Absorbed more Tarrasque semen into his hand turning it gold -Made a direct threat to Asmodeus, the ruler of the nine hells. (He later got his shit kicked in for it) -After nearly losing his arm several times, Cibal started to warm up to the idea and decided to fulfill his grandpa's prophecy himself (He cut his Tarrasque arm off and stuffed it into a jar) and made a new mechanical arm out of wood and put a stored a bunch of gadgets in it. -Got his Tarrasque jar turned into five little Cibal clones made of Terrasque jizz that he could command -Briefly became a cleric of Pelor and found out he was kind of a celebrity among the gods. -Befriended a crystal Dragon which he named Scrontar (At the suggestion of his Grandpa) and took the form of a small crystal halfling -Died twice. The first time was in a fight with the humanoid form of his party member Wulfram's evil sword, the second time was when he made an attempt to stop a world wide calamity by reasoning with the beings that controlled the time stream, but he failed and got permanently erased from existence, which also meant no one remembered him or any of the things he did throughout the campaign, but the things he did still happened, they were just attributed to other people. :(

Cibal died permanently, so he never got an epilogue like his party members, however he did leave behind a litter of part Halfling - part Death slaad children (FIY Death Slaads are freaky frog monsters that don't have a canon breeding method, though other slaads just put tadpoles into humans, turning them into more slaads, but the DM and I decided that the circumstances of this Death slaad were more dire, so rather than putting a tadpole in one humanoid to make one death slaad, it made the much more desperate play of stealing Cibal's DNA to make a litter half-Slaad babies that feasted on its corpse after they were born.) After Cibal found a bunch of weird little gremlin monsters that had a striking resemblance to him in a tower near Cobbleston, he took them all home and raised them as his own kids (because it was pretty obvious that they were) They retained most of the memories from their Slaad half and matured shockingly quickly, within two years they were all basically full adults, with leathery patches of skin and yellow eyes. Cibal's kids are portrayed in the image above, from left to right they are: -Sampson Montague (The runt of the litter and the most physically similar to Cibal) -Yogma Montague (Named by Grandpa Montague and strived to become the first mayor of Cobbleston -Esmerelda Montague (considered the eldest sibling and has the most monsterous features, as well as powerful wild magic, After Cibal Died, Esmerelda took his place in the party and got up to all sorts of shenanigans) Montag (Monty) Montague (The most notable thing he inherited from his father were the bags under his eyes) Mandy Montague (Cibal's most well adjusted and normal child, she liked making clothes) The little mustached Halfling between Monty and Mandy is Grandpa Montague: It was eventually revealed to Cibal that Grandpa montague wasn't actually his Grandpa. When Cibal was young, Grandpa Montague told him that his parents ran away from home and never came back, this wasn't true, the truth was that Grandpa Montague was Cibal's dad and told Cibal that he was his Grandpa. Cibal never learned why, and he figured there probably wasn't an answer. Cibal never got used to calling Grandpa Montague anything other than Grandpa, even after learning his real name, Preator.

These are all the different forms that CIbal's right hand took throughout the campaign. 1. Normal 2. Terrasque hand v.1 3. Terrasque hand v.2 4. Wooden hand 5. Gloved hand After being revived the first time, Cibal had his arm back and while he wasn't crazy enough to cut it off twice, it bothered him sometimes, so he covered it up with a glove in the hopes that it would help him ignore it.

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

DEBORAH SAMPSON

DEBORAH SAMPSON

1760-1827

American woman who dressed and pretended to be a man in order to be a soldier

            Deborah Sampson was born in Plympton, Massachusetts, United States at her grandparents’ house (the house still stands today). Her father left her mother who was unable to financially provide for the children so she had them moved in with family and friends. Her mother died not long after, and Sampson spent her youth living in different homes and worked as a servant and as a teacher.

            Sampson was described as taller than average (taller than most soldiers of the day), broad, strong, and had small breasts. She wasn’t described as beautiful, but regular and plain looking.

            Sampson is best known for disguising herself as a man to serve in the Continental Army and used the name, ‘Robert Shirtliff’ and fought in the American Revolutionary War. In  1783, she wore men’s clothing and attempted to join the army for the second time, this time was successful. She fought in battle and in 1782 in New York she was shot twice in her thigh and sustained a cut on her forehead. She begged the other soldiers not to take her to the hospital. They took her to a doctor who treated her head wound, but she left before he had a chance to attend to her leg and so she had to remove one of the balls herself and sewed the wound closed. The other musket remained inside her leg for the rest of her life, as it was too deep for her to remove.

            She fought for 17 months before it was revealed she was a female. Her gender was found out when she got a fever and fell unconscious in Philadelphia in 1783. The doctor removed her clothing and noticed the cloth she used to bind her breasts. He took her to his own home, where his female family members cared for her. She was discharged by her commander.

            Sampson married Benjamin Gannett in 1785, a Massachusetts farmer and the couple had four children (one was an orphan who they adopted). In 1792, she petitioned to get her pay that the army withheld from her after they found out she was a woman. Sampson was successful and was given the 34 pounds plus interest. In 1802 she went on tour to speak about her wartime experiences to earn money, as they were financially struggling. In 1805, she was given a military pension, because she became a ‘woman with good morals, a dutiful wife, and an affectionate parent’.

            Sampson died of yellow fever in Sharon, Massachusetts in 1827, aged 66. She was buried at Rock Ridge Cemetery, Sharon. Four years after she died, her husband petitioned Congress for a pension for being a spouse of a veteran, and he was awarded a pension but died before he could receive it.

#deborahsampson

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 7.3 (before 1940)

324 – Battle of Adrianople: Constantine I defeats Licinius, who flees to Byzantium. 987 – Hugh Capet is crowned King of France, the first of the Capetian dynasty that would rule France until the French Revolution in 1792. 1035 – William the Conqueror becomes the Duke of Normandy, reigning until 1087. 1608 – Québec City is founded by Samuel de Champlain. 1754 – French and Indian War: George Washington surrenders Fort Necessity to French forces. 1767 – Pitcairn Island is discovered by Midshipman Robert Pitcairn on an expeditionary voyage commanded by Philip Carteret. 1767 – Norway's oldest newspaper still in print, Adresseavisen, is founded and the first edition is published. 1775 – American Revolutionary War: George Washington takes command of the Continental Army at Cambridge, Massachusetts. 1778 – American Revolutionary War: The Iroquois, allied with Britain, killed 360 people in the Wyoming Valley massacre. 1819 – The Bank for Savings in the City of New-York, the first savings bank in the United States, opens. 1839 – The first state normal school in the United States, the forerunner to today's Framingham State University, opens in Lexington, Massachusetts with three students. 1848 – Governor-General Peter von Scholten emancipates all remaining slaves in the Danish West Indies. 1849 – France invades the Roman Republic and restores the Papal States. 1852 – Congress establishes the United States' 2nd mint in San Francisco. 1863 – American Civil War: The final day of the Battle of Gettysburg culminates with Pickett's Charge. 1866 – Austro-Prussian War is decided at the Battle of Königgrätz, enabling Prussia to exclude Austria from German affairs. 1884 – Dow Jones & Company publishes its first stock average. 1886 – Karl Benz officially unveils the Benz Patent-Motorwagen, the first purpose-built automobile. 1886 – The New-York Tribune becomes the first newspaper to use a linotype machine, eliminating typesetting by hand. 1890 – Idaho is admitted as the 43rd U.S. state. 1898 – A Spanish squadron, led by Pascual Cervera y Topete, is defeated by an American squadron under William T. Sampson in the Battle of Santiago de Cuba. 1913 – Confederate veterans at the Great Reunion of 1913 reenact Pickett's Charge; upon reaching the high-water mark of the Confederacy they are met by the outstretched hands of friendship from Union survivors. 1938 – World speed record for a steam locomotive is set in England, by the Mallard, which reaches a speed of 125.88 miles per hour (202.58 km/h). 1938 – United States President Franklin D. Roosevelt dedicates the Eternal Light Peace Memorial and lights the eternal flame at Gettysburg Battlefield.

[thoughtfulfangirling]

During the Battle of Loos, in the autumn of 1915, three men were killed and another four injured while trying to save a company commander named Sampson who’d been shot just 20 yards from the trench. When a medical orderly finally reached him, Sampson sent back a message that he was no longer worth saving. After the guns had quieted, his comrades found him dead, shot in 17 places. His fist was jammed into his mouth so that his cries would not prompt any more men to risk their lives to save his. Tragic stories like this were far from uncommon.

—The Facemaker: A Visionary Surgeon’s Battle to Mend the Disfigured Soldiers of World War I by Lindsey Fitzharris