#Car Collectors’ Favorites

[loyalluxury]

The Magnificence of the Bugatti Chiron: Top 5 Facts and Comprehensive Review

The Bugatti Chiron stands as an emblem of automotive perfection, seamlessly blending staggering speed, superior craftsmanship, and unmatched luxury. This hypercar, a successor to the legendary Veyron, has been engineered to redefine the limits of production cars, earning its place as an unparalleled masterpiece in the world of automobiles. Let's delve into the top five facts about the Chiron, offering a full review that spans its impressive speed, luxurious interior, limited production, iconic design, and cutting-edge technology.

1. Unmatched Speed

At the heart of the Chiron's awe-inspiring capabilities is its 8.0 L quad-turbocharged W16 engine, a marvel of engineering that churns out an astounding 1,479 horsepower. This powertrain propels the Chiron from 0 to 60 mph in just under 2.5 seconds, pushing it to a top speed of over 261 mph (420 km/h). In 2019, the Chiron Super Sport 300+ variant further shattered records by breaching the 300 mph barrier, clocking in at 304.773 mph (490.484 km/h), solidifying the Chiron's status among the fastest production cars in existence.

2. Luxurious Interior

Despite its focus on extreme performance, the Chiron does not compromise on luxury or comfort. The interior is a sanctuary of high-quality materials and customizable options, combined with advanced technology to create an opulent and elegant driving experience. This juxtaposition of speed with luxury makes the Chiron not just a hypercar, but a comprehensive experience of refinement and exhilaration.

3. Exclusivity in Production

To maintain its exclusivity, Bugatti has limited the Chiron's production to just 500 units, with several special editions and variants like the Chiron Sport and Chiron Super Sport 300+ adding to the car's allure. This scarcity ensures that the Chiron remains a rare gem in the automotive world, coveted by collectors and enthusiasts alike.

4. Aerodynamic and Iconic Design

The Chiron's design is a testament to Bugatti's commitment to both form and function. Its aerodynamic shape is accentuated by the brand's signature C-shaped line, a distinctive front grille, and various elements that enhance its performance and aesthetic appeal. This design not only contributes to the Chiron's breathtaking speed but also cements its status as a work of art on wheels.

5. Revolutionary Technology

Equipped with an array of advanced technologies, the Chiron ensures optimal performance and safety. Features like a sophisticated all-wheel-drive system, a 7-speed dual-clutch automatic transmission, adaptive suspension, and multiple driving modes adapt the car to various conditions and preferences. Additionally, the Chiron is outfitted with advanced driver assistance systems, including adaptive cruise control, lane-keeping assist, and automatic emergency braking, making it as safe as it is exhilarating to drive.

Celebrity Ownership and Acquisition

The Bugatti Chiron's allure extends into the realms of celebrities, with figures like Floyd Mayweather, Travis Scott, Cristiano Ronaldo, Kanye West, and Post Malone known to own or have been associated with this magnificent car. Its steep price tag and limited availability make it a symbol of ultimate luxury and exclusivity.

Conclusion

The Bugatti Chiron is more than just a hypercar; it's a testament to what's possible in the realm of automotive engineering and design. From its breathtaking speed and luxurious interior to its limited production and cutting-edge technology, the Chiron sets the benchmark for what a high-performance luxury car can be. Owning a Chiron is not just about having a car; it's about owning a piece of automotive history—an experience that is truly beyond compare.

Get More taste of opulent luxury at

#BugattiChiron #Hypercar #AutomotiveExcellence #ImpressiveSpeed #LuxuriousInterior #LimitedProduction #IconicDesign #AdvancedTechnology #QuadTurboW16 #300mphBarrier #Exclusivity #SpecialEditions #AerodynamicPerformance #CuttingEdgeEngineering #CelebrityOwners #FloydMayweather #TravisScott #CristianoRonaldo #KanyeWest #PostMalone #CustomizationOptions #HighPerformanceEngine #AutomotiveMasterpiece #LuxuryHypercar #AutomotiveCraftsmanship

[scalpelsister]

it is so dire out here as a cd collector

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Cherry Red.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader x Yandere!Geto (JJK).

Written in conjunction with this ask from @eevwrites.

Word Count: 1.9k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Nonconsensual Drug Use, Implied Stalking, Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Overstimulation, Biting/Marking, and Slight Dehumanization.

Really, your only mistake had been choosing the wrong savoir after Satoru had slipped something into your drink.

Satoru was obviously, visibly, undeniably a creep. That much was obvious from the second he approached you, neon pink cocktail in-hand and that degenerate grin plastered across his lips. He was sketchy, but he was also rich, and fun, and willing to dance with you hours after the rest of your friends had called it a night. Suguru wasn’t a creep – or, he didn’t look like one, at least. When your vision started to darken, when it became harder than it should’ve been to put one foot in front of the other, it was his chest you stumbled into, using what was left of your consciousness to beg an imposing, aloof stranger to get the bartender’s attention and help you. It was what anyone else would’ve done. It was what you would’ve done, if the roles had been reversed.

It wasn’t until you felt his arm wrap around your waist, until you heard him call so lovingly to Satoru, that you realized how badly you’d fucked up.

Still, stumbling halfway across the club and throwing yourself at a total stranger must've attracted some attention. As Suguru gathered you in his arms, the bartender rounded towards you, eyeing your limp form and Suguru's slight smile warily. “Someone had little too much to drink,” he explained, nonchalantly. “It’s fine. Her boyfriend and I are going to take her home and make sure she gets tuck her in.”

‘Your boyfriend’ being Satoru, apparently, judging by the way he clung to Suguru’s side as you were carried out of the club entirely and piled into the backseat of an inconspicuous black car. Suguru drove and Satoru hovered over you – gnawing hickeys and bruises into your throat until you were too far gone to care.

Whatever they’d dosed you with, it was strong. You were strung out for most of the ride, only vaguely aware of passing scenery, Satoru’s keening whines, and Suguru’s gentle reminders to ‘wait, ‘toru’. By the time you felt your body being lifted, you were beyond the point of deliberate movement – your mind hyperactive, eager to latch onto every little sensation and spiraling thought, but unable to do much more than remind you to breath as you were hauled through a shrine courtyard and into a small, dimly lit backroom; the priest’s personal barracks, if you had to guess. Satoru babbled while Suguru lowered you onto a large, plush bed, and despite your best efforts, you caught most of it. “—and that’s when I knew it had to be you.” Suguru spared you an apologetic smile, his nimble hands moving over your body as he carefully removed your dress, then your shoes, then your panties, stripping you bare with all the care and all the tenderness of an avid collector undressing his favorite doll. “I mean, it took a few months, but I wanted it to be romantic, y’know? Suguru doesn’t get it. He thought I’d be happy with just anyone.”

“It took me a while to come around the idea. I might’ve gotten a little jealous.” You could only wish he would’ve stayed that away. “Come here, I need to show you what you’re doing.”

Suguru dragged you into his lap, keeping your upper body propped against his chest while spreading your legs apart in front of him. Satoru took his position eagerly between then, his eyes fixed on your cunt. “This,” he started, using two thick fingers to spread the folds of your labia apart, “is what you’re gonna fall in love with. Make sure you’re always paying attention to her clit – aw, look, it’s already poking out.”

It was humiliatingly clinical – how he touched you while explaining your anatomy in-detail, using the pad of his thumb to show Satoru how to play with your clit, dipping two fingers into your entrance while extrapolating on the importance of proper preparation, gathering your arousal up to make sure Satoru knew what it would look like when he was doing a good job. “Remember to be gentle. She’s going to be a lot more delicate than me,” he said, while curling two fingers inside of you, filling the bedroom with a rhythmic, humiliatingly wet sound. Your couldn't seem to open your mouth, and yet, little whimpers of discomfort and mewls of pleasure escaped your parted lips without resistance, each new noise drawing Satoru that much closer. “You’ll just be using your mouth, for now. We can talk about hands once you’ve shown some restraint.”

And yet, Satoru’s hands still found their way to your thighs, kneading mindlessly while Suguru split you open on his fingers. You tried to shake your head, to squirm against him, to tell him to stop, but the closest you got to anything coherent was a pitchy, keening sound not totally dissimilar to the whines Satoru would let out every now and then as he ground half-consciously into the mattress. You tried not to feel anything, either, but Suguru’s hands were so big, and his chest was so warm against your back, and with Satoru all-but drooling over your pussy, it would’ve been impossible not to come undone the second his palm ground against your clit and he spread his fingers apart inside of you, nursing you through your orgasm while making sure you were on fully-display. “See how she’s clenching down? That means she’s trying to milk your cock – you’ll get what I mean, once your inside of her.”

If only for a moment, your panic overshadowed your paralysis. Thrashing to either side, you did your best to fight against Suguru’s ironclad hold and finally spit something out, even if your voice was still barely stronger than a whimper. “N-No, don’t, you can’t—”

It was Satoru who cut you off, this time, albeit without breaking his nonverbal streak. His mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise, teeth clashing against yours as he shoved his tongue down your throat in less of a kiss and more of a prolonged attempt to choke you to death. It hurt, and you tasted blood, and if you hadn’t known better, than you would’ve thought this was his first—

Oh, god.

As if this couldn’t have gotten any worse.

He didn’t stay focused on your mouth for long. His attention drifted downward – first to your throat, then your collarbone, then your chest, latching onto one of your nipples and sucking harshly. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you were, not until his teeth dug into the plush of your breast and you let out a fractured sob, tears blurring your vision. Suguru’s response was instantaneous. In a fraction of a second, his slick-stained fingers were tangled in Satoru’s hair, prying him off of you entirely. “Gentle,” he repeated, his tone strict, authoritative. “Before I decide you need to be muzzled.”

For what it was worth, Satoru seemed apologetic. After Suguru loosened his hold, he nuzzled into your chest, lapping over his past love bites with the flat of his tongue. “’m sorry, just got excited.” And then, smiling up at you, “You didn’t mind, right? I mean, she definitely doesn’t.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, not until his head dropped to your cunt and he buried his face between your thighs, his attention suddenly solely dedicated to your pussy.

There was no attempt made to use his hands. Despite Suguru’s instructions, he ate you out like a starving animal – his tongue fucking into your cunt as the bridge of his nose ground mindlessly against your clit. Suguru kept his hand in Satoru’s hair, petting gingerly over his scalp as he watched Satoru drool and lap at your cunt. “Use your entire tongue, and don't inhale. She’s not going to be impressed if you manage to drown yourself in pussy.” Suguru tugged lightly, and Satoru let out an unabashed moan, the reverberations going straight to your core. “Don't get distracted, either. Don’t you want to know what she tastes like cumming on your tongue?”

Another moan, another rough buck of Satoru’s hips into the now disheveled sheets. He was terrible, and messy, and loud, and it was humiliating how quickly you lost control of yourself – going stiff against Suguru as Satoru all-but tore your second climax out of you. Suguru grinned against your throat, almost purring with satisfaction. “Good boy. So dedicated, so sweet.” He let go of Satoru’s hair – cupping your face, instead. It was only as his thumb traced over your cheek that you realized you were crying in-earnest, now. “She’s tearing up, ‘toru. That means she wants you to keep going.”

A mix of your arousal and his saliva stained the inside of your thighs, dampening the sheets underneath you, but he didn’t pull away – too caught up in your taste or Suguru’s praise to stop. It might’ve been the overstimulation, or the drugs, or some impossible, nebulous factor you couldn’t so much as begin to guess as, but time seemed to blur together, reality buckling under its own weight as Satoru wrung another orgasm out of you, then another, then another, as Suguru continued to shower him with praise and affection and promises that you liked him, that you wanted this, that you were only crying and thrashing and trying to snap your thighs shut because you felt so good. At some point, you lost the will to keep your eyes open, and minutes later, the harsher edges of your consciousness began to soften. For once, you couldn't be mad at your own body's instinctual submission.

You knew you were going to black out, but you weren't scared. By the time your vision flickered out and everything went black, the only thing you could think to be was grateful that you’d be fortunate enough to miss the main event.

~

You woke up what felt like days later, still lying on the bed you’d blacked out in. Their paralytics had worn off, but trying to make a run for it was out of the question. Every part of your body ached – from your hickey-painted chest to your aching hips to your poor, abused pussy – and even if you’d been able to move, it wouldn’t have done you much good. Familiar bodies caged you in on either side, Suguru’s chest still pressing into your back while Satoru clung to your chest, his arms wrapped around your midriff and his nails embedded in your sides. As if you hadn't already been thoroughly marked.

Suguru stirred first, predictably. It wasn’t hard to tell who was in charge between the two of them. “Our little sleeping beauty,” he muttered into your hair, kissing the top of your head as he sat up and shook Satoru away. “We were starting to get worried – must’ve pushed you too hard last night. You almost missed the most important part.”

Something caught in your throat. “…almost?”

“Yes, princess, almost.” With a groan, Satoru sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Immediately, his gaze fell to you, and just as quickly, he was on top of you – pinning you to the mattress, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “You should be thankful that Satoru had the patience to wait. I wouldn’t have been so nice.”

You felt Satoru’s hands paw at your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he aligned his stiff, leaking cock with your entrance. He moved enthusiastically, but mechanically, like a trained dog. Like he was following instructions. Weakly, you tried to push at his chest, to get him away from you, but you gave up quickly.

You’d been wrong to be grateful. It would’ve been better to get this over with last night.

At least, then, you might’ve been out of it enough to miss the twisted, blissful, lovesick grin painted across Satoru’s lips as he buried himself inside of you.

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 03 - public sex

ghost x f!reader | 2.4k words cw: noncon/rape, violent threats, spit, degradation, improvised gag, unnegotiated and vague allusion breeding kink, abduction a/n: if anyone is better acquainted with the vw camper vans, no you’re not (please don’t call me on details, ty) summary: two birds, one stone. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

A knock at the door mid-saxophone solo wrenches you out of the 1980s.

It’s Lost Boys night at the drive-in, one of your favorite films at one of your favorite places. To be interrupted, your knee-jerk reaction is what does this asshole want—

Except, said asshole looms over your door, clearing your car by almost a foot, treating you to a view of a broad torso in a hi-vis vest. Ducking down, your frown gives way to confusion. It’s the security guy who waved you into this very ‘spot’ not ten minutes ago. You had to beg him to let you turn into the drive-in, frantically explaining that work kept you late, causing you to arrive just as the movie started.

“Lot’s full.”

“That can’t be right, I-I have a ticket! Please?”

(If you’d dipped a little low to give him a good view of your cleavage, that was neither here nor there.)

He’d given you a long look, sighed, and then guided your puttering van into a relatively flat space by the dumpsters beyond the final row of cars. When you stuck your head out to thank him, he muttered something about tardiness. 

It appears he still has a bone to pick with you.

You crank the window down, one eye still on the screen.

“Yeah?”

“Just wonderin’, that a ‘75 Volkswagen camper?”

“It’s an ‘82 T3 Westfalia,” You rattle off. “You a collector? ‘Cause The Bluebird’s not for sale. She was my dad’s, so...”

“I’m not. Is it the model with the foldin' table?”

Oh, so he’s just another nosy enthusiast. Good thing you have the rundown memorized from years of strangers walking up to play twenty questions.

“Yeah,” you say with a little sigh, eyes still on the movie. “Everything’s original except for the seat fabric.”

“Mind if I pop in for a look? My dad 'ad one too, before 'e passed.”

Great. Now you have something in common. You unlock the doors and furiously gesture for him to take a peek. 

“Yeah, yeah, climb in. Just keep it quiet, I love this movie.”

“Quiet’s the goal, sweet'eart.”

Cripes.

You listen to him inspect the cupboards and examine the curtains your dad installed years ago. True to his word, the security guard’s silent. When the door shuts, you automatically turn to ask if it is anything like his dad’s model, but nobody’s outside the van. It’s like he vanished into—

Something cold touches your cheek.

“You scream, and I’ll ruin daddy’s ’ard work.”

Your eyes strain in their sockets to glimpse the tip of something black poking into your flesh, and your imagination fills in the rest. Your mouth dries, killing the screaming trapped at the base of your throat. You nod mechanically.

“Good girl. Now, give me the keys then keep your ‘ands where I can see ‘em.”

Sucking in a panicked breath, you slowly reach for the keys and blindly hand them over your shoulder. They disappear with a faint jingle.

“P-Please. You can have her. I’ll–I’ll get out, sit on the ground quietly, and you can drive off. I won’t fight o-or make a scene–“

“You won’t do either of those things, Blue,” he chuckles before stroking your temple with the tip of his gun. “Now. Turn the radio up so you can listen to your movie, then climb back here, carefully.”

You hesitate. Does he mean…?

“Between the seats. C’mon.”

Oh god.

“I’m not a patient man.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You wheeze. You turn up the radio until it drowns out your thundering heartbeat and clumsily scramble into the back. You nearly trip, eyes widening to see that in his explorations, he’s converted the back seat into the sleeping configuration. He’s made the bed. 

He stands hunched in the narrow gap between the bed and the driver’s seat. Crammed into a space meant for a man seemingly half his size. The bed isn’t the only thing he’s changed, you notice. Gone is the medical mask. In its place is a crude, painted balaclava. It makes him look all the more terrifying as if he needs the boost to his image.

He gestures at your chest as you hover awkwardly behind the passenger seat, hands raised, trying not to fall onto the bed in the cramped space.

“Clothes off. Won’t say it twice this time, so get a move on. Sit if ya need to, but not a fuckin’ word.”

Tears spring to your eyes. Your cheeks burn as you comply, a sob catching in your throat when you glimpse him unbuckling his belt. This can’t be happening. This can’t be fucking happening. The fact it is happening at the drive-in, in the van, is a double whammy. The stranger’s going to obliterate two of your safe spots in one go.

He growls when you stand there in your bra and panties, hands clasping awkwardly at your front. 

“You stupid? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Your bra tumbles down your shaking arms, and you kick it next to your clothes. As for your panties—he snatches them out of your hands before you can toss them. He brings them to his face, mashing them into the fabric covering his nose, and jerks his head in a silent but clear order.

He practically purrs when you climb onto the cheap, lumpy makeshift mattress. The upholstery is clean, you see to its maintenance, but it scratches at your palms and knees as you crawl.

“Look at that arse. Give it a wiggle, Blue.”

With the gun and his casual threat of ruining the interior with your interior, you pathetically comply. He belly laughs, louder than the revving of the motorcycles on screen. You try to ignore it, focusing on the interior handle of the van’s rear latch that’s a shuffle away. But as soon as you reach for it, a hand the width of a shovel wraps around your ankle and yanks.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” He growls, easily overpowering your squirming, sobbing self. 

The fight you put up, if you could call it that, feeds the growing shame in your gut. It ends as quick as it began, with your panties jammed behind your teeth and wrists pinned. He hovers, breathing rough through his mask. He releases your hands with a cautionary squeeze.

“Try that again, and you’ll be joinin' your dad tonight. Simple enough?”

You nod so fast you crick your neck, tonguing fabric. 

With a patronizing pat to your cheek, he sits on his knees, head ducked and back curved, touching the roof. “That’s more like it.” His eyes linger on yours, assessing, then drop to your body, a soft, perverse laugh rattling out. Hedged with a smoker’s cough. 

It’s as surreal as the movie. Like you’ve been sucked beyond the silver screen. One minute, simply watching, the next, part of the nightmare.

Ghost, he tells you between sharp nips and bites to your tits, is what you’ll call him when you plead, beg, and whine. And that’s what you do, trading breaths for muffled whimpers as he paws at your belly, hips—whatever he can reach, which is everything. He leaves indentations of his teeth all the way down your body, stinging and raw.

“Nice cunt you’ve got ‘ere,” Ghost grins as if complimenting the upholstery or fixtures. He rolls and tucks his mask, revealing a pale chin and thin lips. You catch a couple of old, gnarly scars in the light filtering through the windshield. A knitted cleft. Helpful detail to identify him later, your hysterical mind notes. His lips twitch as he pries your legs open. “She’s fuckin’ soaked. Playin’ rough do it for you?”

Blunt thumbs rub circles into the soft skin at the crux of your inner thighs, teasing and pulling you open. He spits a large glob directly onto your hole. Either you’re not as soaked as he said, or worse, you think, he’s planting yet another little flag on your body. He plays with you for a moment, unskillfully toying with your clit, and stroking himself, spreading the drool from his leaking cock. He slaps the heft of it once, twice—then without further preamble, begins to shove his way in.

You can’t stop your hands from flying up to claw at his arms, your mouth falling further open in a silent scream, cotton tickling the back of your throat. The stretch is immense, and you feel like a bug the way your legs instinctively try to close, bracketing his broad form and pressing into his sides, from how you feel squashed as he bottoms out with a throaty groan.

Ghost rocks his hips to take whatever room’s left and chuckles at your wide eyes, glassed over with unshed tears. You stare up at the dark pits above, glinting with satisfaction. 

“Go ahead and cry. Been wonderin’ what you’d look like since you got all blubbery at the entry.” He picks up the pace and successfully knocks your tears loose as he fucks you hard into the mattress. The whole van must be rocking on its suspension, giving you a little hope a fellow movie-goer or an employee will investigate and scare him off. But there’s no way he doesn’t notice the sway of the van. He must not care.

“Please,” Ghost mocks. “Please, I ‘ave a ticket! It’s my stupid job and my stupid manager,” he laughs meanly, smacking into you to punctuate his speech. “These stupid ‘ours and stupid customers.” You wince at hearing your near-hysteric ranting and begging parroted back at you. “Ever think about what all those got in common? Ever think it’s you who might be stupid, Blue?”

He slips a hand back to your clit, thumbing it in tight circles broken by occasional flicks, coaxing a reluctant yet responsive heat like a skittish animal. His mask lifts more with a big smirk and a mean laugh as you choke around the gag, sobbing. 

“After all, you did let a strange man into your car.”

Your fingers dig into his arms but do nothing. He drops his weight, snakes his arm under your head, and ruts. His rubbing hurts. He uses way too much pressure than you normally like and pinches, muttering filthy orders into your ear. He kisses your drooling mouth and licks your cheeks. 

“C’mon, give me it, come on my cock. Want you nice and tight f’me, need you to keep it all inside.”

The inevitably of him finishing inside you chases another wail from your mouth. He finally slots his own over it, burrowing his tongue inside to dig around. You can barely breathe as he fucks you through whatever it is he’s doing. Your eyes spin and bounce off the fogged windows. Surely, any minute now, someone will interrupt, someone will save you. They’ll throw away their trash and hear your muted shrieking. 

And, as if summoned by thought alone, the beam of a flashlight bounces off the rear windows. Ghost pauses his mouth before his hips, slowing to a leisurely roll. He lifts his upper half to stare out the window as the light passes over the glass again. You watch, heartbeat borderline painful, and squeak when he raises his hand. His face snaps to you.

“Not a word.” He warns.

Ghost wipes the mist from the glass and his lip curls. 

“Just a kid.” A hand migrates over your mouth and presses, apparently not trusting you even with your underwear half-lodged behind your teeth. His other hand reaches and unlatches the window. You tense so hard in panic that he hisses and squeezes your cheeks with a second pointed look. He cranks the window open enough that surely his masked face is visible outside.

“Didn’t your mum teach you it’s not polite to stare?”

A pitchy, crackling voice of what sounds like a teenager responds. Fuck. You can hear him pretty clearly, even over the radio. He must be only a foot away. 

“I-I-I….W-Whatever it is you’re doing, sir, you can’t–”

“I’m enjoyin’ the show. At least I’m tryin’, but ‘ere’s some whelp stickin’ his nose in my business.” His voice is cruel, mocking. “I suggest you go back to your booth and forget about me. I can leave an impression if you’d like, but you like solid foods, yeah?” 

There’s a choked, scared sound that cuts through the film audio. It makes Ghost huff and drive deeper into your cunt, making you bite through cotton as his cockhead glances sharply into your cervix.

“Yes, sir. Sorry sir.” By the sound of his retreating footsteps, the kid’s power-walking away.

Ghost shuts and locks the window, muttering, and returns his attention to you. He gives you a toothy grin, flashing a silver cap on a rear molar. 

“Now, where was I?” 

A heartbeat passes before he’s back to fucking you mercilessly, tongue jamming into your mouth yet again.

He ignores the rake of your nails when you shove your hands up his shirt to find skin to ruin, and merely grunts as he lifts his head. Your underwear slides out of your mouth in his teeth, damp and wrinkled. He spits them out beside your head, then returns, wetting your dry tongue with his own.

Ghost swallows your shrill cry as you come and endures your kicking legs while flames as hot as hellfire sear you to the bone beneath him. The train whistle and screams pumping through the van’s speakers smother the rest of your bawling. You dangle above the abyss, spent.

It doesn’t take long for his orgasm to follow. Panting into your mouth, blown pupils fixed to yours, mouth screwed up in a sneer. He barely makes a sound as he loses his rhythm and floods your cunt. 

He withdraws after a brief eternity and kisses you. Exhausted, overwhelmed, and aching, you slip unconscious. Lost.

When you stir, you find yourself cuffed to the wall of the van, wearing only a hi-vis vest. It chafes your nipples as the van bounces along. Blinking, you groggily moan in pain and try to compute what it is you’re seeing through the lace curtains. Green. Patches of gray and white. Mountains. But the closest range is…

Your eyes whip up front, where Ghost fiddles with the dial. He pauses, registering your movement in the corner of his eye, and meets your gaze in the rearview. 

“Made a collector out of me, Bluebird.”

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1967 Chevrolet Nova

The 1967 Chevrolet Nova is a classic American compact car known for its straightforward design and robust performance. As part of Chevy's Nova series, the 1967 model features a clean, no-frills exterior with a distinctive front grille and a solid, durable build.

Under the hood, the Nova offers a range of engine options, including a powerful V8, providing a blend of performance and reliability. Its simple yet functional interior design prioritizes driver comfort and practicality.

The 1967 Chevrolet Nova is appreciated for its classic American muscle car attributes and reliability, making it a favorite among vintage car enthusiasts and collectors.

[hhoneylemon]

𝘫𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘣𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

warnings: bad writing perhaps

How Does He Act With A Crush?

he’s so cute when he has a crush. he finds excuses to hang out with you, he’s nicer to you than he is to anyone. he does his best to charm you with his ‘bad boy’ persona and then drops it to just be that soft funny guy. he’ll let you borrow his books and he’ll read any you recommend, he lets you borrow his cds, sneaks you free stuff from luke’s, probably steals something of yours to remember you by when he’s sitting alone.

Love Languages

i think jess is an acts of services and gift giving kind of guy. he’ll annotate books for you, give you books, drive you around, carry things for you. he’ll let you drag him places as long as it makes you happy too. he keeps your best interests in his heart. he struggles with voicing his feelings. he’s physically affectionate, but it’s mostly hand holding and kissing.

Gifts

he definitely listens to you when you talk. he learns what your favorite candy is to randomly give to you when you’re hanging out. he gives you books based off your taste and he expects you to tell him what it was about and if you liked it or not. he buys you cds and records of your favorite artists and does his best to find collectors items too. has bought you little antique trinkets that are genuinely adorable.

Dates

like i said, he takes mental notes on what you talk about, he’s a great listener. if you mention having seen a new restaurant open he’ll take you there for dinner. he enjoys taking you out for ice cream (there’s ice cream at the diner, but no cones), taking you book shopping, record shopping, seeing a bad movie to make fun of it (at home or in theatre), going to concerts or small gigs. he loves just walking around with you and talking too. keeps a hand in your back pocket or an arm around your waist. if you ask him to a town event he’ll complain about it and say no for a while but if you keep asking he’ll probably say yes, or he’ll come up with an alternative date.

Kisses

when you first start dating he genuinely cannot stop kissing you. stops you mid conversation to kiss you and then goes back in his same position to listen to you continue talking. kisses your cheek when he really wants to kiss you but you’re ranting. kisses you to shut you up. of you want him to shut up, it's effective on him as well. kiss him and you can get you whatever you want. he’d give you the world if you asked, anyways.

Random

he does magic tricks for you!! sometimes your brain hurts from reading so much or you’re studying and you want a break so he busts out his cards and just does some tricks for you. sometimes he’ll take you to the lake and you two sit on the bridge and sit in silence, holding hands and looking at the water while thinking about whatever. whenever he’s upset, this is his favorite thing to do with you. he honestly doesn’t peg me as the jealous type. unless you outright hang out with an ex or a guy who clearly has a crush on you, he won’t care. he trusts you. he’ll ho to parties with you, but he makes sure both of you steer clear from drinking. while yes, he would normally drink at a party, you’re here and he doesn’t want to worry you and he certainly doesn’t want you drinking. he would stop smoking for you if you asking him to!! sometimes you to sit in the park/town square and he’ll be reading on the grass while you’re sitting on a bench and his head is between your knees so you can play with his hair. it calms him down, and also it’s fun to mess up his hair without his knowing. he offers his jacket to you when it’s cold and then you get to watch him start shivering before he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you close to him for a bit of warmth. he takes care if you before himself!! if you say you need help he’s immediately coming to your rescue. stuck on a homework question? he’ll figure it out, don’t worry. your car won’t run? he’ll figure it out, don’t worry. your sink won’t stop dripping? he’s no plumber, but it shouldn’t be too hard. pet names are weird to him, but a small ‘babe’ or ‘baby’ will leave his lips inbetween kisses or when he’s about to softly correct you on something. whenever you talk he’s looking at you with the softest eyes, a small smile on his lips. he seriously doesn’t understand what he did to interest you in him. sometimes he’s mean bc he’s mean to everyone and it’s his defense mechanism against the world. blows you off when he’s upset but the longer you’re together the better he gets at communicating he’s upset and letting you try to improve his mood. please hug him and let him hold you and kiss your hair it’ll do wonders for him. he’s half hopeless romantic half asshole. he’s such a loser boyfriend. the beginning of the relationship is puppylove and then it leads to real love and he doesn’t know how to handle it. it’s amazing but scary.

he loves you, he just doesn’t know how to tell you because he’s never been loved back before.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

do you have any personal headcanons about charles that you’re willing to share? if so i will go on my hands and knees and beg on behalf of all your followers for the juicy deets, this is your chance to yap about him for as long as humanly possible 🛐🙏🏻✨

ooohhh im bad at hcs..... but i do have. a few:

firm believer charles is a model-kit enjoyer and likes keeping his hands busy overall: started off with ship-in-a-bottle kits but over time gravitated towards cars and aircrafts

on that note, he's a slight vintage car buff/appreciator

has great upper body and core strength. he doesn't get a lot of opportunities to demonstrate it, but it catches people off guard when he can

can play at least ONE instrument. money's either on piano or violin. not much of a singer, but might hum to himself

probably gives killer shoulder massages

started collecting hats as a teenager and has numerous baseball caps. despite this, he isn't super into baseball itself and the hats themselves are probably the least worn of his collection. nowadays, despite not wearing hats as often as he used to, he favors fedora and bowler hats

wrist watch collector. has an anti-magnetic set in his collection, though rarely actually wears them

certified rambler this isn't even a hc but i must assert it extends beyond inspirational speeches and lore drops. ask him what book he's reading and he'll give you a verbal dissertation about it

favorite tea's chamomile

dyes his eyebrows to be darker (this is partially a joke.. and yet.....)

[thedroneranger]

Pages In-between

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Synopsis: Mrs. Seresin is a hard person to surprise. However, stealing a page from her book, Jake may have managed to catch his wife off guard.

Notes: Here is entry one of two for @roosterforme's '80s Rocktober challenge! The song is Centerfold by J. Geils Band. Part of the To-do List collection.

Warnings: 18+ only; smut.

Word count: 3.8k.

Mrs. Seresin did a little happy dance as she stuck the key in the lock and opened the door of her PO box. This was the last time she would have to stop by the post office to pick up her business mail. A smile pulled her lips as she cradled all the mail in one hand and locked the box with the other.

She was also delighted by the thought of all her sample books and design digests moving to her new studio. Now, she and Jake had more room for collector edition novels and travel tchotchkes in their home office. Jake was returning tonight from a week-long training and had promised to help pack. He might’ve been more excited than her that she was finally getting a studio. 

Jake never stood in the way of her career, but he did voice his opinion about her need for more separation between work and home. Yes, she had an office—they technically shared the space—but sometimes work spilled into other areas of the house. And Jake knew she was overworking when he was away.

Today’s mail drop was sizable and included a few new sample books. A couple of her monthly subscriptions also arrived. She’d have time to thoroughly sort when she got home. Jake wasn’t due back until later.

Once home, she parked in the garage and was greeted by Ruck when she entered the house. She spent a few minutes loving him before going upstairs to change. Ruck on her heels, she returned to the garage to get the mountain of mail. Back inside, she stood at the kitchen island and sorted.

A sample book for a new tile company’s latest collection. The wallpaper samples a client requested. Pantone’s interiors collection for the new year. New editions of Dwell and Architectural Digest. The last piece of mail was wrapped in an opaque poly plastic bag. Going for ease, she fished scissors out of the drawer beside her and sliced off the crimp.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said aloud as she pulled a glossy magazine out of the wrapper. Staring back at her was a shirtless Jake, wearing Wranglers with his thumbs hooked in the belt loops. He donned his favorite Stetson and had a toothpick dangling from his lips. The title Flyboy was printed above his head in a font that mimicked the infamous Playboy.

A smile plastered on her face, she sighed as she flipped it open. As tempted as she was to immediately look at the centerfold, she browsed the articles and features first. Jake put a lot of thought into Flyboy—from the photos to the articles and down to the barcode, which included their wedding date.

Now she understood why she’d been banned from his calendar photoshoot.

Every year, the Lemoore-based strike fighter squadrons competed to raise money for charity. By New Year’s Eve each year, the squadrons were expected to present a check for at least $12,000 to the charity of their choice. The three years previous, Jake’s squadron, the VFA-151 Vigilantes, had at least doubled the minimum expected donation. The squadron’s creative approaches to raising funds not only brought in a lot of money but made them the reigning champions. 

Over the years, the Seresin became a staple in the competition. Year 1, Mrs. Seresin pitched the Commander to allow the Vigilantes to participate in a date auction. The night was memorable not only because the squadron raised $64,000, but also because Mrs. Seresin got into a bidding war with the Commander’s ex-wife over Jake. The victor, she got kudos from the Commander for putting his pain-in-the-ass ex in her place.

The following year, Jake suggested weekend car washes from Memorial Day to Labor Day. The weekends he and Mrs. Seresin volunteered were always the highest grossing. When Mrs. Seresin couldn’t join him, he was sure to send her pictures of him and the rest of the squad posing in black triangle bikini tops.

For Year 3, the squadron was cleared to host an air show. It got so much publicity that the Navy decided its official demo squadron, the Blue Angels, would participate. Obsessed with the Blue Angels as a child, Jake nearly blacked out when he was presented with an honorary patch for flying alongside them.

No one thought the Vigilantes would be able to top the air show for Year 4. However, inspired by an anniversary gift from his wife, Jake proposed a calendar. Twelve months, 12 pilots. After the initial laughter, everyone was sold.

When Jake told his Mrs. Seresin, she immediately sprung into action to assist. By the time Jake left for work the next morning, she had secured a pro bono photographer and had plans to dress the sets and pilots. Jake knew his wife was a force, but she never ceased to amaze him. She had to shoo him out of the house before he was late for work, because he was showering her in physical gratitude. 

Mrs. Seresin couldn’t help but smile as she thought about all the late nights and takeout. Ann, her long-time friend, agreed to be the photographer and de facto assistant art director. Mrs. Seresin and Ann had staged and shot so many home and business interiors together, they lost count. They were excited to tackle a new frontier.

However, Mrs. Seresin did not get to conquer the frontier that was Jake in front of the camera. When he asked her to not attend his shoot because he wanted to surprise her, she choked down her disappointment and respected his wishes. 

However, her disappointment was in the rearview mirror the minute she saw Jake’s photo at the reveal party. Clad in just his dress whites pants, Jake’s megawatt smile lit the image while he kneeled alongside Ruck. Tongue lolling out of his mouth, Ruck was also smiling at the camera. 

To top it off, Jake was the pilot for December, Mrs. Seresin’s birthday month. “An early birthday gift,” Jake called it as he hugged her to his side and kissed her temple. 

That night was for Jake and the rest of the squad, but Mrs. Seresin felt like the real winner.

After its release, the Vigilante calendar took social media by storm. It was easily their most successful campaign, raking in over six figures. And of course, Jake and Ruck became everyone’s favorite duo. 

Although Jake wasn’t on social media, and Mrs. Seresin kept her social footprint strictly business, the internet sleuths still found them. Fortunately, they were respectful of their boundaries. Even more surprising, learning Jake was married and that Ruck was Mrs. Seresin’s dog just made folks swoon harder.

An hour after opening the mail, Mrs. Seresin was tucked on the couch, wine in hand, and reading Flyboy cover to cover. Ruck laid at her feet and lifted his head every now and then to confirm her noises weren’t duress.

Mrs. Seresin held the magazine sideways to take in the centerfold in all its glory. Jake was standing naked in the foreground of a hangar with his helmet perfectly positioned to keep the photo modest and have his call sign on full display. His signature smile, sandwiched between deep dimples, added to the cheekiness of the missing vowels on his helmet. She couldn’t help but smile.

Jake knew the magazine arrived today. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he thought about her reading it. It wasn’t the pictures he was nervous about, it was the pages in between. 

Curating Flyboy was a trip down memory lane for Jake. He spent time scrolling through their shared memories and writing his perspective of their adventures. It was fun, and he even decided to start a journal.

Jake was confident the magazine caught her off guard. His birthday plan was unfolding perfectly. He was hoping his outfit, his flight suit, was the second punch of a one-two celebration combination. The cherry on top was riding shotgun: a half dozen her favorite donuts. 

Since her birthday was two days after Christmas, Jake vowed to keep her birthday separate from the holidays. To honor that, he always celebrated with her in early December. More used to having her birthday swept under the rug, it was the first time in their relationship Jake was able to surprise her.

The truck headlights lit the closed garage door as Jake pulled into the driveway. Once parked, he slipped out of the vehicle and prepared for Mrs. Seresin’s three-legged protector, Ruck, to greet him. Inside, while Jake shed his things at the door, Ruck nosed the donut box. Jake had bought a doggie donut so Ruck could celebrate, too. Package inspected and approved, Ruck led the way to the living room. 

Mrs. Seresin was flipping through what Jake assumed was his magazine. She glanced up to find him swaggering over in his flight suit—the top tied around his waist—and a black t-shirt, holding a box. “Hey, flyboy.” Her voice was sultry. “Or should I say coverboy.” Jake couldn’t help but smile, and she mirrored his expression. 

“Happy birthday, baby.” He flipped open the box. Her face lit up as she stood to get a donut. Jake watched as she selected her favorite and happily took a huge bite. While she chewed it, she turned the pastry to feed Jake. He obliged. 

She tucked a couple fingers in the waist of his flight suit and led him to the couch. Jake placed the donuts on the coffee table and traded her donut for Ruck’s treat. She smiled and fed it to him. Jake’s heart swelled at how gentle Ruck was with her. She finished her donut nestled under Jake’s arm with Ruck’s head in her lap. She fed Jake the last bite. After swallowing, he leaned in to plant a sugary kiss on her lips and murmur one more “happy birthday”.

“Can I unwrap my present?” She smirked at him.

Jake grinned. “You already did.” He tipped his head toward the magazine on the table. Mrs. Seresin leaned forward to grab the magazine, and then returned to her spot under Jake’s arm. Casually, she flipped the pages. “Do you like it?” Jake questioned.

“Love it,” she quickly answered. She looked at him with the biggest smile. He leaned down again and pressed his lips to hers. “So thoughtful. So personal. So hot,” she said between kisses. “But you really didn’t drive home in your suit flight for me?” Her lips pulled into a pout. “I know this is a clean suit. You don’t reek of jet fuel.” Jake wordlessly responded, his bottom lip disappeared behind his teeth as he smiled.

“What was your favorite article?” Jake asked, unfazed.

“Ruck’s, of course.” Jake scrunched his nose at her. She chuckled and returned to lazily flipping the pages. “I also liked reminiscing about our honeymoon. You picked some exclusive photos.” Jake flashed a toothy grin as she looked back at him. He had included some photos he took of Mrs. Seresin on the private yacht they stayed on for their French Riviera honeymoon.

His personal favorite was her draped nude on a deck lounge chair with her legs butterflied while she pleasured herself—her hand tastefully covered her core. “I’d love to recreate some of those by the pool,” he responded. 

“Mhmm,” Mrs. Seresin replied, still flipping through the magazine. “Or on another yacht. We do have a milestone anniversary coming up,” she reminded him. Jake responded by placing a kiss to her temple.

“Your photos were nice, too,” she added, making eye contact with him and sticking her tongue out. He squeezed her closer and tried to playfully catch her tongue but captured her bottom lip instead. She leaned into the kiss, bringing a hand to the side of his face. Carefully, Jake removed the periodical from her lap as she slid onto his. 

Straddling him, she cradled his face in her hands as she deepened the kiss. Magazine safely on the coffee table, Jake slipped his hands under her shirt—one of his Academy shirts—and his thumbs dipped into the waistband of her bike shorts to rub the soft skin of her lower belly. His thumbs circled lower and confirmed his suspicion—no panties. 

She rolled her pelvis into his as she kissed him harder. He moaned, and Mrs. Seresin thought she might come right then. She pulled away, mouth agape, and sat back on his lap. “Get this off.” She demanded as she helped strip him of his t-shirt. “Just like the magazine.” She referred to the picture of Jake shirtless with his flight suit tied around his waist. In the photo his suit was so dangerously low that, with his thumb hooked in the roll, you could see his tiny “Bite me” tattoo. 

She rubbed herself all over Jake as they continued to make out. Jake’s hands alternated between squeezing her ass and wandering up her shirt. He quickly learned she wasn’t wearing a bra and was doing his best to coax her out of her top. 

She whined and tangled her fingers in his locks, pulling his head back and breaking their kiss. “I want to feel more of your skin.” Jake punctuated his statement by palming her ass.

“It’s not your birthday, you don’t get to make demands.” She ground herself more in his lap, making him groan.

“Not a demand, just a suggestion,” Jake responded. She loosened her grip on him, allowing him to dip his head toward her chest. She watched as he found one of her taut nipples through the fabric. Gently, he tugged it with his teeth. She bit her bottom lip as she enjoyed the sensation. 

“Jake.” She drew out his name as her head tipped back. He switched to the other nipple. “Fuck.” She quickly ripped her shirt overhead, and he gladly mouthed her bare chest. As he licked and sucked and massaged, she found a rhythm rolling her pelvis against his.

Mrs. Seresin slowly halted her hips and curled her fingers back into Jake’s hair to pull him away from her chest. Jake looked up at her—lips puffy and cheeks a little flush. He whined when she wiggled out of his lap. 

She stood and slowly began to slide off her bike shorts as she sauntered out of his reach. She even turned so he could see her tattoo appear on the swell of her backside as she slowly slid the fabric down. Once her shorts were around her ankles, she stepped out of them. 

“C’mon, coverboy.” Back still to Jake, she come-hithered him over her shoulder as she strutted away. Jake immediately knew where she was leading him. He practically jumped off the couch and ran after her. She squealed when his arm snaked around her middle, and he carried her sideways into their office. 

There were boxes—half full, empty, flat packed—strewn around the room. Otherwise, the office was in its usual decadence. The floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out to the secluded backyard, letting the moonlight flood the space.

Jake marched past their desk, over to the windows and set Mrs. Seresin on her feet. He soaked in her naked form as he held her until she was steady. Jake was distracted by her curves illuminated in the night light. She got his attention back by tugging on his arm as she turned to face him. Jake made eye contact with her as his hands continued to traverse her body. He could feel the incremental movements of her muscles. 

“You ok?” She asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved a stray lock of hair away from his face. 

Jake engulfed her in his arms and pulled her into his chest. Her head was tipped completely back. “Never better.” His voice was heavy with lust. She smiled as his lips met hers for a lingering kiss. “Is it my birthday or yours?” he asked as they separated. 

She smirked and nipped his lip. “It’s definitely mine.” She slipped out of his arms. He watched as she pressed her back flush to the cool windows. “Your flight suit looks good on, but take it off for me, coverboy,” she said.

Even in the low light, Jake’s smile was beaming. Jake’s movements were antagonistically slow as he loosened the fabric and pushed it down his body. She couldn’t help but smile as he mimicked her earlier motions, slowly revealing his tattoo. 

Flight suit abandoned, he stalked toward her, holding eye contact. His cock bounced against his abdomen with each step. Back and palms still flush to the glass, she craned her head back to maintain eye contact as Jake approached. He leaned down for a kiss. A large hand softly cupped the column of her throat. Jake had her pinned between him and the window with his length resting against her belly. She squeezed her thighs together as their make out intensified.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Jake pulled back. “Turn.” His voice was deep. She obeyed and supported herself with her forearms against the glass as she bent and arched her back.

Mrs. Seresin closed her eyes and remembered to breathe as Jake easily slid to the hilt. “You’re so wet,” Jake praised as he began a slow pace. One hand returning to her throat. “Did you work yourself up looking at my photos, thinking about what’s behind that helmet?” Jake rhetorically asked as he gently squeezed her neck. He snapped his hips, making her whimper. He smiled, feeling the hum against his fingers.

For leverage, Jake placed a hand beside hers on the window, and slipped the other around her front between her legs. She moaned and squeezed her eyes closed as his calloused fingers drew tight circles on her clit. Jake smiled into her shoulder as he felt her push onto her toes to chase the friction of his fingers.

Together they found a perfect rhythm. Jake continued to pepper her with praise and move with her. Eventually, Mrs. Seresin had her cheek and chest pressed against the window. She moaned with each thrust. Jake knew if they kept this positioned he’d come before her. 

She gasped but stayed pressed to the window as Jake dropped to his knees. Spreading her with his thumbs, he lapped her from behind. She keened as she arched her back more to give him better access. Jake shifted slightly so his tongue dipped into her.

That was all Mrs. Seresin needed. Jake stilled and let her bounce up and down on his tongue. Mrs. Seresin grew louder with each bob. Palms pressed to the glass, she rested her chin on it as she quickened her pace. Finally, her hips stuttered and she slowed her motions as waves of pleasure rolled through her. 

Jake popped to his feet and quickly slipped his cock into her throbbing heat. “Yes,” he hissed as her walls squeezed him. A few thrusts and he pumped her full of cum.

He groaned as his body eclipsed hers against the glass. After he caught his breath, he kissed her shoulders. She groaned, lifting her head off the window to look over her shoulder. 

“Happy birthday,” Jake said before he pressed his lips to hers. 

“A happy birthday, indeed.” She returned to her position against the window. 

Quickly, Jake slipped out of her and scooped into her his arms to avoid dripping any cum on the floor. She relaxed into him as he carried her to their bedroom. He deposited her on the bed before getting a washcloth to clean her up. 

Cleaned up, he tossed her favorite of his shirts at her before disappearing back into the bathroom. When he returned she was already curled under the blankets. Jake tossed on a shirt and shorts and headed downstairs to let Ruck out. 

While Ruck was in the yard, Jake went to the garage and unloaded the last of Mrs. Seresin’s gifts. He set them in the office out of the way. She could open them in the morning. 

Their little secret, Jake treated Ruck to one more donut before they headed back to the bedroom. Ruck tucked himself in his bed on Mrs. Seresin’s side of the bed as Jake slipped under the covers and spooned his wife. 

She turned to face him. “Thank you.” She gave him a quick kiss before flipping back over to tuck herself against him. 

“You’re welcome.” Jake pressed one more kiss to her temple, and then listened to her breathing as he fell asleep. 

The next morning, Jake still asleep, she wandered downstairs to make coffee. While she waited for his pour-over, she picked up the remnants of last night. Retracing their steps, she picked up clothes and folded them. As she entered the office, she kept her sights on Jake’s crumpled flight suit. She folded it, a smile tugging her lips as she thought about last night. Her smile became a full fledged smirk as she noticed all the body part prints on the glass.

As she turned to leave, something leaning against the bookshelves caught her eye. Those were not there last night. Two very large packages. She walked over with a hand extended, fingers ready to graze the paper, when she heard, “Go ahead, open them.” 

Startled, she jumped back, clapped a hand over her heart and turned to find Jake. His grin outdoing the Cheshire Cat, he leaned against the door frame with a mug in each hand. She caught her breath as Jake sauntered over. He handed her a mug and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

“These are your last gifts,” Jake said. She threw him a look as she walked back toward the packages. Perching her cup on a shelf, she dipped her fingers behind one of the folds and tore the wrapping. She couldn’t help but laugh as she caught sight of her own face staring at her. 

Quickly, she tore through the paper to reveal framed prints of her draped naked across the hood of Jake’s vintage Mustang and him naked, holding his helmet and smirking. Their centerfolds.

“Where were you thinking we would hang these?” She gathered her coffee and stepped back beside Jake so they could view their photos together.

He shrugged. They looked at each other. “You’re the designer, and it’s your birthday, so you get to pick.”

“I’ll think about it.” They both smiled as she bounced onto her toes to give him a quick peck. 

“One more thing,” he said as they parted. She waited for him to continue. “You can’t hang yours in the garage.” She arched an eyebrow. “I don’t want the neighbor boys trying to sneak a peek when the garage opens and closes.” She burst into laughter. 

“I love you,” she replied. Jake feigned confusion as she kissed his cheek. Together, they sipped their coffees and chatted about where to hang the photos. 

Visit my masterlist for more | Sign up for my tag list!

A kind reminder: Likes work hard, but reblogs and comments work harder 😈

Tag list: @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @taytaylala12 @galaxy-of-stories @awildewit @potato-girl99981 @shanimallina87 @malindacath @violyn20 @djs8891 @linkpk88 @furiousladyking @daggerspare-standingby @princess76179 @jstarr86 @blue-aconite @hecate-steps-on-me @chicomonks @darkheartcherry @soulmates8 @roosters-girl @dempy @mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @roosterisdaddy36 @hangmanscoming @mavrellover91 @s-u-t @averyhotchner @penguin876 @kmc1989 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @seitmai @abaker74 @callsignharpe @cassiemitchell @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky @beyondthesefourwalls @bradshawsprincess @damrlova

[miraitrunks]

okay, so… here it is: a larger post of most of the treasure planet merch i’ve received but haven’t shared here. this stuff gets more and more niche/rare the further you scroll, so check it all out! let’s start from the top:

first up— we’ve got my complete collection of all the loungefly products. each one has jim on it so it was a must <3 personally the first release (middle) is my favorite but i think the pink backpack is prettier

second up— my 20th anniversary pin as well as my cursed concepts pin. such lovely grabs <3 then we have the pin i bought off the artist Dean Grayson from his “Heroic Rides” series on etsy. it’s fricken huge!

third— probably one of my favorites, my hallmark treasure planet cups. i got these off ebay and i have absolutely no idea what year they’re from. aren’t they so cool?! i got so many and they’re brand new. the print of jim on the cup is just top tier. “honey, we’ve got guests. bring out the fine china!” 10/10.

number four— my jim & silver keychain toys. these are olddd! if you know me though, you know i don’t keep stuff in the packages. silver could stay, but jim definitely had to come out. he zooms forward like a toy car when you pull him back and then let him go!

item number five— treasure planet for the playstation 2. i’m especially fond of this one considering the ps2 was my first ever gaming console that i owned myself. so many fun memories!

number six— my japanese art promo book featuring some of the japanese voice casting! as an anime fan, collecting japanese promotional material for american media is something that i’ve always wanted to do. i haven’t gotten my hands on a japanese movie poster yet, but it’s on my list for sure. this is a pretty close runner up though! i love all the pngs used for this booklet! (sorry for my weird hand placement in some of these, as the pages folded out and it was hard to photograph with one hand)

number seven— last one for now! i think i saved the best for last personally, but this is my disney adventures collector’s edition magazine for treasure planet back from 2002, the movie’s release year. let me tell you, this thing is such a throwback from the events of the year to the ads that come in the thing.

…AND THERE’S A WHOLE CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE COMIC IN HERE?! i had no idea! it was like striking gold! this is also one of my favorites of all the things i own. can we get a load of how cute he looks on the cover? he almost looks like he’s aware he’s posing for a magazine cover. so adorable!

…wow, that’s all from me for now! while it’s definitely not all i own, this is just some of the newer stuff i’ve gotten since i’ve been away and/or some of the stuff i think is cooler. did you recognize any of this stuff? find anything new? lemme know!

[ponderingmoonlight]

Chapter 4: Shadows in the Moonlight - A Fateful Meeting at the Ball

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: reader's death, language

Genre: Isekai, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

<- Previous Chapter l Next Chapter ->

„I won’t wear this. End of the discussion.”

“Are you out of your mind, sister? Prince Satoru sent this dress himself and ordered you to wear it!”

“I couldn’t care less about what Prince Satoru tells me to do.”

“Lady (y/n), please come to your senses. This is a beautiful gown and apart from that, it matches your skin tone and eyes perfectly. I am certain he didn’t choose this dress himself. Do the maid who was responsible for it a favour and wear it to the ball.”

Just to hear her voice sends shivers down your spine and calms down your pounding heart. Well, what did you expect when you found yourself reincarnated into a fantasy world with Jujutsu Kaisen characters playing the royal main roles? Definitely not Shoko Ieiri being your first maid, that is for sure.

“Fine”, you grumble.

“But I’ll only do it because of Shoko. Now get out of here, brother.”

Naoya sends a row of sickening glares your way before storming off and finally leaving you some room to breathe. This slowly but surely begins to feel like a never-ending nightmare. All you did was asking Gojo for an invitation to the ball along with a bouquet of flowers. But this?

You take out the jaw-dropping gorgeous gown that is covered in glitter, allow your hands to feel the softness of the fabric. There is no doubt in the fact that this was way more expensive than anything you have ever worn, so finely crafted that you didn’t even want to touch it when you first opened the box. But Shoko is right.

“How likely is it that the maid responsibly for choosing this dress will lose her head if I don’t wear it to the ball, Shoko?”

She eyes you and the dress up and down in silence while pouting her lips. To be honest, when you first saw her in that black and white maids dress, you almost fell out of the window. How is it even possible that she’s considered your maid in this world? Luckily for you, she at least kept her sense of humor.

“Very likely. To be exact, she might lose her head the same evening if Prince Satoru lives up to his reputation.”

“What a great way to describe my future fiancé. Would you help me put it on, then?”, you mutter.

Oh, how much you hate the thought of doing this man a favour, of putting something onto your body he has seen before. He doesn’t deserve to even look your way for how he talked to you, for how he treated you. Your impression from him in the manga definitely wasn’t wrong:

This man is nothing but a womanizer and collector of hearts.

“Didn’t you like him at least a little bit, Lady (y/n)? From what I have heard so far, it is said that he is a true gentleman and treats women with all due respect. Just not everyone else”, Shoko comments while tying the laces of your bodice.

You can’t help but huff in sheer anger and frustration. Gojo Satoru? A true gentleman? Is she really talking about the man who endangered you, who didn’t agree on marrying you? Just after you put him down in front of your whole family and threatened him with revealing his biggest secret…

Well, nobody’s perfect. But especially he isn’t.

“Let me tell you something, Shoko. This man is nothing but a philanderer, a pompous prince who thinks he owns the world.”

“But this pompous prince will be called your fiancé after tonight”, she reminds you violently.

You huff to yourself while balling your hands into tight fists and looking at yourself in the mirror. That new sensation of lavender eyes, the stinging fact that you are responsible for marrying that man you never really liked that much. But what other choice do you have? Even though you just came into this world, you aren’t dumb. Just one look into Naobito’s and Naoya’s cold eyes is enough to know they aren’t joking around. If Gojo doesn’t propose to you tonight, you will lose your life all over again. Running away? What a ridiculous thought. They’d find you where ever you go, hunt you down like the prey you are. Jujutsu Kaisen taught you that life isn’t that simple, that you cannot get away like that.

That new-gained life, the only one you might have left…

You straighten your shoulders and put a smile onto your lips so forced that your cheeks start aching. If calling yourself Prince Satoru’s fiancée is the price you have to pay for a second life, you will take it. But you’ll definitely won’t play his perfect little fiancée until the end of time. No, despite all the horrible things that could happen, despite the fact that you can consider yourself lucky for an opportunity like that, you still want to live the life you always imagined.

You will find a way out. But tonight, you have to play along.

-at the ball-

“If you don’t behave yourself-“

“Can you shut your mouth just once? It’s not like I’m a kid and didn’t listen to your nonsense the whole ride to the palace”, you interrupt your brother with a yawn.

“I think you don’t get it, sister.”

Naoya grabs your wrist so tightly that your bones feel like bursting any given minute, his cold glare piercing through you like a knife.

“If you mess this up, you will lose your head. And even though I’d love to witness that, we can use you as the wife of the prince better.”

His eyes tell you that he definitely isn’t lying, that every cruel word coming from his mouth is nothing but the truth. You swallow hard, yanking away your arm in order to escape his grasp. Fuck, this is absolutely serious. If you mess this up, if that jerk changes his opinion-

“Lady (y/n), what a pleasant surprise to see you made it on time.”

Oh. You turn around in a mix of relief and panic. It’s him.

“Sir Suguru”, you breathe out.

As fast as you’re able to walk in that pompous dress and those heels, you storm away from your brother in order to greet your new-found saviour.

“Where do you think you’re going, sister?”, Naoya hisses through gritted teeth.

“He’s a good friend of Prince Satoru, don’t you think it’s my responsibility to greet him? Now get away from me”, you bark back at him.

“What a pain in the ass”, you mumble to yourself, cheeks burning in nothing but sheer anger.

Now that you think of it, getting out of that toxic household is definitely more important than keeping your distance to Gojo. You need this evening to be perfect. Everything needs to go according to plan.

“I see you arrived with your brother”, Geto comments with an oh so charismatic smile.

“Oh, you noticed. I tried to leave him in the basement where he belongs, but he keeps finding his way back”, you blurt out before thinking twice.

Fuck.

Your eyes widen in sheer horror.

Just a few seconds ago, you reminded yourself to act normally, to do everything in order to make this plan work. And now…you’re insulting your family in front of Gojo’s best friend.

“I apologize, I shouldn’t have said that-“

“It’s not a secret to anyone that Sir Naoya is a truly special contemporary. What surprises me though is how a Lady like you was able to develop in such an environment.”

“Please don’t tell Prince Satoru.”

The begging tone in your voice catches Geto off guard. You, who wasn’t even afraid of a Prince while rejecting him. What is it that you fear so badly?

“I’m a man of words. Of course, this will stay with us if you wish so, Lady (y/n). Now, let’s go inside, shall we? I know for certain Prince Satoru is already awaiting you.”

“Don’t make me blush, Prince Satoru-“

“Prince Satoru, there is something important I haven’t told you yet! What do you think about talking in private for a minute?”

“Now now, Ladies. I am not allowed to leave the ball I am hosting only to have a little talk. And apart from that, a noble man like me can’t meet a gorgeous Lady without a chaperone by her side. Your reputation might get ruined and I cannot stand the sheer thought of that”, Satoru replies with his voice so sweet that you feel like throwing up.

Is this guy for real? You ball your hands into tight fists, eyes too focused on the way he stares that bunch of needy women up and down with his eyes so sparkly that they might take their clothes of any given time. Didn’t this guy tell you yesterday that he wants to marry you?

“May I say that you look absolutely lovely tonight, dearest Lady Mei?”

“You always know just what to say to make a lady blush. But I must say, you’re looking quite dashing yourself. Perhaps we should make it a habit to complement each other more often, Prince Satoru”, she purrs back at him.

Mei Mei, the so called “Lady” who shared her bed with her little brother and cares about nothing but herself as your competition? Suguru side-eyes you up and down while trying to position himself in front of the cheesy scene, but you have enough.

Nope, you can’t do this. There’s no way in hell you’ll talk or let alone dance with that womanizer. Is this the only choice you have in your life? Getting killed by your so-called family or spending the rest of your days standing next to a man who has his mind and probably his body on a new girl every week?

“Disgusting”, you hiss through gritted teeth, not even caring about the look Suguru gives you while speeding off.

What are you supposed to do? Running away and trying to hide your traces? Risking it all and rejecting Prince Gojo once again? All of those thoughts are nothing but bullshit.

Your family will find and kill you if you decide to run away. And Prince Gojo? Who know what that guy is capable of.

“Don’t mind my comment, but you don’t have to feel nervous. I am more than certain that Prince Satoru fell head over heels for you”, Suguru whispers into your ear, following you around with ease.

“Are you forced to tell that every woman he wants to have as his trophy?”, you bite back.

You definitely don’t have any nerve to think about Prince Satoru or the stinging fact that you’ve landed in that strange universe for another minute.

“Drinking. Drinking sounds good right now”, you mumble while storming towards a buffet filled with beverages and biscuits.

Cup after cup you cough down the sweet liqueur that leaves your head dizzy and mind forgetting all the shit you’ve been through for a brief second. You were alive, you died, you woke up again in this strange world and now you’re supposed to die again?  Dying or getting married to a womanizer, a man who’ll never give you the love you deserve.

“Lady (y/n), are you feeling unwell-“

“I need to get out of here. Please leave me alone for a second”, you mumble without even looking at Suguru.

You need a few minutes or rather hours for yourself. Without anyone around, without all the pressure crushing your shoulders. Your feet stumble around without a real aim, shoulders bumping into strangers over and over until your eyes finally spot an empty hallway opposite of you.

Fuck Prince Satoru and that whole new world you now live in. Right now, you need some time to get a hold on your life and all the stuff that happened those last 48 hours.

You dart forwards, almost sprint when the crowd gets sparser. You need to get away from that place, away from the stinging presence of your brother, your father and Gojo.

“I can’t marry him. But I can’t stay here either. I need to…AH!”

Sparks fly, you feel your head bump into something rock hard, your body falling straight to the cold ground. Out of instinct, you squint your eyes together and brace yourself for bumping straight onto the floor butt-first. Were you really dumb enough to run against a wall or a statue, maybe?

But you never land. Instead, you feel a pair of firm arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, slowly allowing your lids to flutter open.

Your heart stops.

Can it really be? No, that’s impossible. There’s no way in hell a guy like him would attend a ball like that-

“I think your lost, the ball is right behind you, young Lady”, he speaks out with low voice.

“Toji Fushiguro”, you mumble when your glossy eyes fixate on the scar that decorates the right side of his mouth way too familiar.

Tags: @m0k0k0 @lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @risuola @fire-loving-siren

@sunshine7queen @gatitam @kentocalls @hellkaiserinphoenix @skylarlyn823

@livmarauder @nothisispatrick300 @haileycannotcometothephonern @xstom @byakuya61085

@arehzhera @ttysmfwna 

[sp1d3rzz]

Headcannons

Elijah Mikaelson

Warnings : Mentions and slight descriptions of sex. (Sorry if I missed any.)

13+ ONLY

SFW -

Most definitely the type of man to immediately come to your side of the car and open the door for you. And no matter how many times you insist you can open your own door, he never listens.

Yes, his closet is filled with like 50 suits. All having different colors, patterns, and fabrics. He's quite the collector.

So good at doing hair. Over the many, many years Elijah's been on earth, he picked up a thing or two on how to do hair. Too tired to wash it? Don't worry, just sit back and relax as his hands gently massage shampoo into your hair.

Like literally the best cook. Spent his whole life learning how to cook for him and his family. He's basically a much older version of Gordon Ramsay. Definitely wears an apron while cooking too.

Absolutely hates children. Despises them. Refers to them as "it" and, "thing". Sad part is, he's actually really good with children. Knows how to communicate with them, handle them, and care for them. Just choses not to.

Very clean person. He could see the tiniest spec of dust on the floor and has to deep clean the whole house. An object out of his desired placement? He's yelling at whoever left it like that.

Though Elijah tends to act and speak formally, he doesn't mind lazing around the house every once in a while. Slaps on some boxers and naps for the rest of the day.

And I feel like he would help an old lady across the street, y'know? He's such a gentleman. We stan.

NSFW -

Definitely a praiser. Not like the vanilla praiser, but the teasing praiser instead. "You've done so good, haven't you?" and "Look at this mess. Should I make you clean it up, darling?"

Slow and sensual is his go to. It gives the sex passion and meaning. His favorite position is 100% missionary so he can see your face after every deep and filling thrust.

If he decides you need to be punished for being bad, he'll use his thick fingers to fuck in and out of your hole until you beg him to actually fuck you. And of course, you know he will.

Makes you unbuckle his belt just so you can end up on your knees and getting face fucked until he cums all over your pretty little mouth.

And yes, the aftercare Elijah gives is almost perfect. He'll make sure you're given a nice bath to calm your aching muscles. And once you get out, he'll help you change and lay you down next to him in bed.

Even though he loves using your face as a personal flesh light, he would much rather be yours. Stubble gently scratching your inner thigh as he absolutely fucking devours you. Tongue circling over your most sensitive areas, making you whine and buck your hips against him.

A huge heavy breather. It gives him the power to express how good you make him feel without feeling any less dominant. He might moan or grunt every once in a while though.

Shoots you that seductive but piercing glare whenever you show any shred of attitude. And you immediately know if you keep it up, you'll end in a family restroom getting fucked against the counter as he shoves his fingers into your mouth to keep you quiet. "Why must you act so repulsively, hm? I'm beginning to believe you liked to be punished like this.."

[tacit-semantics]

I put them in little friend groups :(

Many beautiful women are charmed by my lack of social graces actually they’re always like wow you’re so. Prone to leaving out vital info and accidentally misrepresenting yourself

[vintagegeekculture]

So even though it's kind of the Marvel line, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby didn't really quite reignite Superheroes, the Flash was around a good bit before. But nothing would have been the same without Marvel breathing new life into the genre. What state do you think comics would have been in if instead of writing the Fantastic Four Stan Lee had quit to go sell used cars? Was it inevitable someone would have paired with Jack to do it? What would comics and pop culture look like now instead?

I'm a Marvel True Believer first and foremost, but I think you're underselling how enormously successful Justice League of America was from 1960-1969. Marvel books, especially Fantastic Four (at the time, the "flagship" Marvel comic of the 1960s) regularly topped the polls as favorites for the serious fans in 60s fanzines like Alter Ego, but they were not top sellers until 1970, when Marvel acquired their own distributor. Prior to that, Marvel published their books through DC, who made sure Marvel's runs were lower. They also limited the amount of books that Marvel could print, which is why books like Tales of Suspense had two characters in them (Captain America and Iron Man shared a book). As soon as Marvel got their own distribution, they pushed DC out of the top selling lists.

Justice League of America was a huge success when it came out, for a reason that may surprise people: nostalgia. Essentially a revival of the 1940s heroes, it was a huge hit because the adult audience bought it.

It's interesting how nostalgia itself as a cultural concept with actual power is a kind of recent phenomenon. Prior to the 1980s, there were huge volumes of books aimed at old people like Hallmark's "Remember When?" books.

I do think the single greatest what-if of the Marvel Age is one you didn't mention: what if Joe Maneely had lived to work on the Marvel Universe?

Whenever Stan Lee was asked who the greatest artist he ever worked with was, his response was unexpected: Joe Maneely, a name that even some serious fans of the Silver Age may find unfamiliar. But Joe Maneely worked with Stan extensively in the 1950s in Marvel's non-superhero comics like Black Knight and Yellow Claw. He was a beautiful artist, a professional who was always punctual, and even more so, he understood and developed the "language" of comics, and had an even better relationship with Stan than Jack Kirby did, who, by all accounts, was a genius artist but was, interpersonally, a difficult, sullen wound collector who had difficulty keeping friendships (as his Captain America co-creator Joe Simon can attest; he and Jack had a "breakup" long before he ever met Stan).

Meanwhile, contrast all those interpersonal problems with the difficult to get along with Kirby, with how Joe Maneely used to draw him and Stan holding hands and walking through the park together and so on.

The downside is that Joe Maneely died at a young age, 1958, in a tragic accident where he fell between railway cars, all 3 years before Fantastic Four. He was the biggest Atlas-era Marvel artist to never work on the Marvel Universe.

A Marvel Universe with Joe Maneely as the major creative force alongside Stan Lee is a change so deep and fundamental I have no idea what it even would look like.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1971 Plymouth Road Runner

1971 Plymouth Road Runner

The 1971 Plymouth Road Runner is a classic American muscle car, known for its powerful performance and bold styling. Featuring a range of V8 engine options, including the 383 and the mighty 440 Six-Pack, the Road Runner offered impressive speed and acceleration. The 1971 model introduced a more rounded body design, with a distinctive "fuselage" look, giving it a sleeker appearance compared to earlier models. Equipped with the iconic "beep beep" horn and aggressive hood scoops, the Road Runner embodied the raw power and playful spirit of the muscle car era. It remains a favorite among collectors and enthusiasts today.

[mimisempai]

It will last forever

Summary

Who would have thought that Aziraphale's need to use the Bentley would expose some of Crowley's insecurities? 

Notes

50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompts

Kiss #5: Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

On Ao3

Rating G -  1386 words

"Crowley, can you give me the keys to the Bentley?"

The demon, who was lying on the sofa, sat up and asked in a confused tone, "What do you need them for?"

Aziraphale sighed, "I know you freeze up every time I ask you for the keys, but it's been two weeks since I warned you that I needed the car to pick up some books from an old collector who's a long way from here and whose town isn't served by the train."

Crowley replied, "Ah yes, about that, actually, I..."

Aziraphale interrupted, clearly annoyed, "Ah, no, not again. I don't want to get into another argument about the fact that it's your car and you don't like me customizing it when I borrow it - knowing that it does it all by itself, by the way- and..."

Crowley tried to interrupt, but the angel had gotten carried away and continued, "I thought we were past this. For God's sake, my precious bookshop has been OUR bookshop for a long time, even before we lived together, and you're certainly there more often than I use the Bentley."

"But, Angel..."

Aziraphale didn't listen to him, pulled his hat over his head, picked up his briefcase and took a quick step toward the door of the bookshop, then, under Crowley's stunned expression, finished, "All right, I'll be fine. Don't expect me for dinner."

Then he walked out and slammed the door so hard that the small "Closed" sign fell to the floor.

Crowley snapped out of his stupor and ran after him, but when he reached the street, he saw that the angel was already gone. 

The demon whispered, "I don't even know where he went."

"Is there trouble in heaven?"

Crowley turned to Nina, who was standing in the doorway of the coffee shop, and replied curtly, "None of your business," then turned and locked himself in the bookshop.

First he walked in circles, poured himself a glass of scotch, swallowed it in one gulp, then returned to Aziraphale's desk, looked around for anything that might give him a clue - the collector's name, the town, anything - but found nothing.

Then he went to the sofa, thinking that if he slept as he always did, time would pass more quickly and Aziraphale would be back.

He will come back, right?

“Don't expect me for dinner.”

Wait.

Unable to shake the sudden fear that gripped his heart, Crowley straightened.

“Don't expect me for dinner.”

It just meant that he would be late, right?

Not that he might not come home.

Of course not, no.

But it was also the angel's fault.

Aziraphale didn't even listen to him and jumped to the conclusion.

As if Crowley had ever been able to deny him anything.

After all, it was their favorite game, wasn't it?

Crowley would be begged, but he always gave in in the end.

Every time.

Then he stopped and ran a hand through his hair, his anxiety returning with a vengeance.

But then again, maybe Aziraphale had grown tired of it.

“Nothing lasts forever.”

Could it be that what Crowley had feared since they had been together was already happening?

Lost in thought, he didn't hear the bookshop door open or the sound of the briefcase hitting the floor.

"Crowley..."

He turned sharply and gasped as he saw him, right in front of him.

Aziraphale.

He didn't even think and immediately closed the distance between them, throwing his arms around the Angel's neck before hugging him with all his might.

He was back.

Then, as if he couldn't believe it, he pulled back a little, muttering, "I'm sorry, Angel," before closing the distance again and kissing him with all the strength of his feelings, not even noticing that he was crying.

Suddenly, he felt Aziraphale's hands on his shoulders and the angel gently pushed him away, saying with a concerned expression, "Crowley, love, wait, please."

Crowley started to pull away, but Aziraphale shook his head and held him back, saying softly, "I'm the one who's sorry," then sliding his hands down the demon's arms, he grabbed his hands and pulled him toward the sofa, making him sit down before sitting next to him, still holding his hands.

Then, seeing the demon's tear-stained cheeks, he raised his hand and wiped them with his thumb, saying with a sorry look, "Oh, Crowley, I'm so sorry.

Crowley muttered in a hoarse voice, "Have you had enough of me yet?"

The angel's expression went from sorry to shocked, "What? No, no way! How can you believe that?"

The demon replied, "I wasn't going to say no, you know? About the Bentley. If I say no, you know it's not true, you know I always give in in the end." Thoughts raced through his mind and words came out of his lips, incoherently, but he continued, "You said it that day, nothing lasts forever. And maybe it's now the case..."

"Hey, Crowley, stop, stop, that has nothing to do with it. Of course I haven't grown tired of you, and I never will. You've done nothing wrong. As soon as I got to the end of the street, I realized I'd been a fool. I was so sure that I would have to argue a lot to get you to accept that I went ahead and ended up getting carried away out of nowhere. I am so sorry for making you feel so insecure, so let me reassure you again. There's not a chance in a thousand years that I'll get tired of you. Never."

He held the demon's face in his hands before continuing, "Let me correct my terrible words of that day. When I told you that nothing lasts forever, I was lying. It was a desperate argument to try to convince you. I don't believe that. I've always loved you and I'll always love you. My love for you will last forever. There's not much I'm certain of, but this I am. With all my heart."

He closed the distance between them and captured the demon's lips in a kiss that conveyed the strength of his feelings better than words.

When they pulled away to catch their breath, Crowley said softly, "Mine, too you know."

"What?"

"My love for you, Angel, it will also last forever."

Aziraphale nodded before opening his arms and Crowley immediately snuggled up to him, wrapping his arms around the angel's waist as Aziraphale held him with all his might, whispering into the demon's hair, "I'll never leave you."

Crowley pressed himself even closer, if that was possible, humming with contentment in response.

They stayed like that for a few moments, basking in the happiness of having found each other again, when suddenly Crowley sat up a little and, under the angel's puzzled expression, rummaged in his pocket. He pulled out the keys to the Bentley and handed them to Aziraphale.

"No, Crowley, that's not necessary..."

The demon stopped the angel from continuing by putting a finger to his lips, then took his hand and opened it, placing the keys inside before covering them with his own and saying softly, "You were right, it's our Bentley. These keys are yours. I made a spare set for you. You can keep them for life. You don't have to ask me anymore, just tell me when you need the car. That's what I wanted to tell you earlier when I didn't accept right away."

Aziraphale's expression changed from shocked to mortified as he said, "I feel even more of an idiot. I am so sorry, Crowley."

The demon pressed a kiss to the angel's forehead and replied, "Don't be, it's not like I'm not used to your shortcoming, or you to mine. We're the kind of people who go for it and think about it later. After millennia, you and I have learned not to hold grudges and to admit our mistakes."

Aziraphale nodded and replied, "So to thank you and make amends, let me go for it one more time."

Then, putting his money where his mouth was, he pressed his lips to the demon's in a tender kiss that was returned with equal sweetness and, as the kiss lingered, the keys to the Bentley were still in their joined hands, a definitive sign of their reconciliation.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable kisses series : here

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Vante | Kim Taehyung

Summary: You favorite faceless artist Vante has an exhibit tonight and one of his close friends takes a special interest in you. Pairing: Artist Taehyung x Art Collector reader Word count: 2.3k a/n: This was supposed to be out for Tae's birthday and I failed miserably. But it's gonna be a two parter to make up for it so keep an eye out for that! (I also have a Jin fic but again I've failed miserably on getting it out on time) I wanted to post the first part to see how it's received and I'll decide when I'll put out a part two later. p.s barely edited because I just wanted to put it out asap lol

"You know that one artist you like is having a gallery show right?" my friend asks me. "Who? Vante?" I asks, my interest now peaked. "Who else would it be? You don't really mention any other artist to me by name. You just say 'Look at this new piece I bought' or whatever, but when it come's to him it's always 'I just found a new piece by Vante and I need to get my hands on it!' or something to that extent" she finishes, taking a sip of her mimosa. 

"Didn't you already have enough to drink last night?" I ask, reminding her about how plastered she got at the benefit ball as she downs the rest of her fifth glass this morning. "Yes, but today is a new day love. What did you expect when you invited me out to brunch?" she teases, waving down one of the waiters to bring her another one.

I roll my eyes at her and continue on with my meal. "Anyways, about the gallery show, do you know where it is? I know his events tend to be exclusive so I haven't been able to get an invite before. Is it somewhere in the city?" I ask taking a sip of my drink. "Well what if I told you I already got you an invite?" she says, smiling over the rim of her glass. 

"What do you mean you already got me an invite?" I ask in astonishment. "Are you the one who's drunk or am I? Yes I got you an invite!" she laughs at my growing excitement. "I love you so much girl thank you!" I say coming around the table and hugging her semi aggressively. "Okay okay now get off of me and order another drink for yourself if you really love me. You know I hate drinking alone" she says and waves the waiter over for me before I can protest.

~~~~

"So where's the show being held?" ask while we're waiting for the driver to pull the car around and instead of saying anything she hands me a luxe envelope with a wax seal and my name written across it in the most intricate font. "All the information you'll need is in there" she says and makes her way into the car leaving me mesmerized with it for a moment before she's calling after me to get in. 

"I still don't understand why you're so obsessed with him though, is it the whole faceless thing?" she asks once the car makes it way onto the street. "In part yes, that's definitely got me intrigued but his art alone speaks for itself. There's just so much life in it and-" "Yeah yeah I've heard you fan girl about him enough. I don't even know why I asked" she says resting her head against the window. "The alcohol is catching up to you isn't it?" I say amused by her cheeky response. "Shhh why are you talking so loud?" she whines making me chuckle and lean back in my seat, enjoying the now peaceful drive back to my home.

~~~~~

Closing my front door behind me I walk over to my living room mindlessly and sit down on the couch all while inspecting the envelop before reaching for my letter opener as to not break the seal. Once opened I'm met with a soft beige letter again with my name written in the same font. I open it and read all of the information about it and I panic for a moment seeing that the show is tonight. "Of course she would wait until last minute to give me this" I say out loud to myself with a smile on my face, taking a deep breath and making my way over to my closet. 

Once I've found an outfit that fits the theme of pale neutral colors I start getting ready to head out. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror I give myself a bit of a pep talk before leaving. "You've been to hundreds of shows like these before. There's no need to be nervous" I say, taking a deep breath and walking out before changing my mind. 

~~~~

The atmosphere is calm and quite compared to the loud colors and designs splattered on some of his paintings. The abstract faces and bodies of the people he paints a stark contrast to the people who are wandering around the gallery also donning the color pallet specified on the invite. I guess this is another way to ensure that the paintings themselves are the ones that are grabbing peoples attention rather than the attire of the various attendees.

Taking a deep breath I wander around acting as casually as I can, trying to maintain my composure and keep my excitement at bay. Seeing all of his paintings up close is a new experience that I wasn't expecting. Seeing his art online verses being surrounded by it in person feels almost like a full circle moment. He's been an artist that I've been following closely for years now so it just feel right being here. 

"Has this one caught your eye?" I hear a mans voice say from behind me, leaving me placing my hand over my heart in surprise. "My apologies, I didn't mean to frighten you" the deep baritone voice says now accompanied with owner by my side. "Oh no that's alright, I guess I just lost myself for a moment there" I say and take a glance at the man next to me. 

He looks as though he's my age or a few years older with strong masculine features but still having a few soft ones to make him even most interesting to look at leaving me at a loss for words. Not so much as being nervous but more as seeing him as being somewhat of a living piece of art that somehow found it's way over to my little part of the world. 

"You still haven't answered my question" he says playfully, turning to face me now. "I'm sorry?" I reply, embarrassed from being caught staring at him for too long. "The painting?" he questions nodding towards the piece in front of us. "Oh! Yes it's gorgeous! It's one that I haven't seen before and it just kind of pulled me in as soon as I laid eye on it" I say turning my attention back towards it.

"I love how he's steered clear of using a traditional canvas and has used glass instead. His usual pieces are usually full of color and chaos but I love how this one is almost stripped down but still has so much life and movement in it. It's almost as if you can see him painting it on the other side" I say tilting my head a bit and taking in the details a bit more. 

"You see these little bumps right here and how they're almost a bit more textured than the rest, there are a few of those spots throughout it as well" he says leaning in a bit closer to point out a corner of it so I can see it more clearly. "Would you like to know the story behind this painting?" he asks and I eagerly nod, waiting with bated breath.

"So, he had been feeling a bit restless while he had been cleaning up his studio a bit and he had been washing his brushes and so he didn't really have much of anything to paint with and he had finally figured out what he wanted to paint of this sheet of glass in front of us today. So instead of waiting patiently for his proper tools to be back into commission he took a stale baguette from his kitchen, ripped it in half and used that as his brush instead" he chuckles and I can't help but laugh right along with him, taking note of his adorable laugh and boxy smile.

"That certainly sounds like something he might do but if you don't mind me asking, how did you find that out?" I ask, interested as to what this man's relation might be to Vante.

"Oh, I guess I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Taehyung, I work closely with Vante and help out in any way that I can to make these shows run smoothly. I'm also full of fun facts about all of the pieces in here so please don't hesitate to ask me anything" he says while motioning around to the rest of the gallery. 

"Oh, I'm y/n, it's very nice to meet you!" I say and take his outstretched in greeting and he surprises me by kissing the back of my hand. "Likewise" he says with his breath still fanning against my skin. It sends a slight shiver up my spine at that, paired with the dark brown eyes of his that I find myself entranced with.

"Are you an art collector yourself?" he asks, walking with me to see all the rest of the pieces in the various exhibits. "I'm more of a beginner when it comes to collecting art and curating a collection but I do know that I always try to get my hands on any Vante piece I come across. I've been following his career for almost 6 years and I can't help but fall in love everything he creates" I gush while taking a closer look at another piece. 

"You really are a true fan of his" he replies, gazing at me with admiration while my attention is pulled to a sculpture close by. "I mean I guess you could say that" I reply, getting shy at how excited I've been. It's as though I've reverted to having a childlike wonder when brought to a candy store for the first time.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, I like seeing how passionate you are about art. It reminds me of how Vante used to be when he first started out" he says and walks over to another piece with almost a melancholy smile. "Used to be?" I question trailing after him. 

"He's been going through a bit of a slump lately and thought a show like this would bring him some sort of inspiration and motivation to continue and hopefully appreciate how far he's come" he says, glancing over at me. "Do you think it has? Is he here right now?" I ask, taking a glance around the room.

"Yes he's here and trust me, this show has done wonders for his creativity" he says smiling down at me before taking a glance around the room. I try to follow his line of sight to see if they land on anyone in particular but unfortunately he seems to catch me in the act. "You're quite the curious one now aren't you?" he chuckles, turning his attention back to me. 

"Why do you say that?" I ask, feigning innocence. "You're trying to find Vante aren't you?" he says with a knowing smile. "Can you blame me? This mystery behind who he is and even his age are driving me crazy" I laugh and he laughs right along with me. 

"Why don't you take a wild guess as to who he might be" he says and watches me as I take a gander around the gallery. "Mmmm, how about him" I ask, pointing at a man in his late 40s with a stocky build that is clearly wearing a toupee. "Very funny" he laughs and shakes his head. 

"What? I'm taking a shot in the dark here" I say trying to stop myself from laughing again. "Well how about him?" I ask pointing to a younger man that seems to be in his early 20s dressed in a more casual but clean outfit, just barely matching the dress code. "That's a good guess but no that's not him. If you ask me it looks as though he's been dragged here by his mother" he points out a middle aged woman dragging him along so he won't wander off. 

"Good point" I chuckle looking over at him as he continues to scan the gallery right along with me, never staying on one person for more than a few moments. "You probably wouldn't even tell me if I did guess right huh?" I say, seeing a devious smile flash across his face. "Nope" he says and walks over to another piece. 

"Why even suggest the guessing game if you wouldn't tell me the answer?" I ask and start checking out what he's brought us over to. "Because I liked watching you guess" he says glancing over at me and I frown at him playfully. "Hey in exchange for not telling you who Vante is, why don't I show you the pieces that didn't make it into the show?" he suggests and starts walking towards a door thats labeled 'Employees Only'. 

"Really? Are you sure this isn't against the rules or something?" I asks looking around to see if anyone is watching us, which thankfully no one is. "Of course it is. But don't worry, I'm famous for talking myself out of trouble, or into trouble depending on the situation" he says with a wink while holding the door open for me.

I take one last look around and see that again no one is paying us any mind. "After you my lady" he says and motions for me to walk in...

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @beomieboi @forevrglow @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @snehal @xumyboo @mindurbuzznezz @diorh0seokie @hehurst23 @caro134340lina @ye0nvibezzn @olimpiiaa @hrtsj1m @junecat18 @ellesalazar @babycandy111 @felixz4life @lively-potter @esther-kpopstan @gyukookswhore @koohrs @skzthinker @vminkookgf @kookiescupcake0109

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)