#it’s just hard choosing to be out on a weekend when it’s where most my free time is lmao like. huh i could be playing sims rn

[warmsol]

do you crave to be home playing with your sims while you’re out or are you normal

[kimstills]

some reassurance - aaron hotchner x gn!reader

in which you try to provide aaron with some reassurance after he asks for his worst qualities.

content warnings: a little hotch aftermath of s2e15 (nothing goes into detail), no haley in this story but no real mentions about her, the team is kind of mean, aaron and reader literally flirting even tho reid just got kidnapped not too long ago. word count: 1.5k a/n: inspired by this post by @greg-montgomery ! my man is not a bully <3 also not proofread oops

he’s a classic narcissist.

he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team.

what’s my worst quality?

i have no sense of humor.

you don’t trust women as much as men.

you can be a drill sergeant sometimes.

you’re a bully.

you’re sure that if the words of the events from the past 12 hours have been ringing in your head since they first happened, they’re probably ringing in hotch’s head, too.

but you’re also sure that he’s trying to play it as if nothing happened. as if he didn’t get completely verbally obliterated by his team members.

you lost count of how many times you had turned to look at hotch from the moment reid had chosen him to be ‘killed’ after tobias hankel had asked him to pick someone from his team. from the moment you had all figured out where the devolving man was keeping reid.

from the moment you had saved your friend, to the moment the case had been wrapped up, to the moment your boss had just now ordered everyone to take the weekend off right after arriving back to the quantico headquarters, despite immediately locking himself in his office afterwards.

you had contemplated saying anything from when reid had first chosen hotch as hankel’s sacrifice, and you contemplate saying anything now as you stare up at his office, the curtains having been drawn and the door closed ever since coming back, even when everyone else was gathering their things and was about ready to leave.

you didn’t know what it was about hotch or your relationship with him, but you had always found yourself protective of him ever since breaking through the ‘cold’ and ‘stoic’ persona the team had made up for him and crafting a genuine friendship with him.

you had been the first to follow after him when he had left the room with all the computer screens where you and your team had watched reid ‘choose’ him, hot on his heels trying to reassure him that the young genius wasn’t in his right mind.

it had been impossible, though, watching in silent horror and palpable confusion as he asked the rest of his team to list his worst qualities while trying to realize that everything spencer said was on purpose.

what emily had said, you had let slide. she was new to the team, and although you reassured her that all would turn fine in her journey with you and the rest of the bau, you couldn’t deny the lack of trust the others had in her.

derek butted heads with hotch the most and was the most brazen when it came to standing up to him, never afraid to call bullshit even with knowing that hotch was hard on him because he knew of morgan’s potential.

what jj had said, though, you didn’t understand. there had never been a time where you could actively recall hotch being purposefully rude or mean to anyone without it being called for.

he could put people in his place and humble an officer or two when needed, but he had never been mean to you nor to anyone else just because. so, when the words ‘bully’ left jj’s mouth, you couldn’t help but furrow your brows and send a glare her way despite the traumatic events she was still reeling through.

spencer had said himself that he knew hotch would understand, so you could only assume that everyone else had assumed the older man wouldn’t take anything personal, especially after being the one to ask the question.

you had only given his shoulder a squeeze seconds after he ordered everyone to get some rest, offering a comforting smile.

but you knew that wasn’t enough.

so, before you even registered what you were doing, you brush past the startled and confused stares derek and emily give you as you stand abruptly from where you had been perched on your desk and march up the stairs to hotch’s office.

the determination in which you made your way up there contrasted from the gentle knock you raptured on his door, waiting patiently for the deep voice to allow you to enter.

at the sound of his permission, you stepped inside, smiling softly when aaron looks up to glance at you.

he’s standing on the left side of his desk, shuffling papers together and sliding them into a manilla folder. he seems tense, like he finally let himself feel what he was trying to avoid back at hankel’s house, but, solely from the warmth of your smile, his shoulders drop and his body languages is immediately relaxed by your presence.

“i thought i sent you home?” he asks, giving you a knowing look as he stacks the folders neatly on one of the baskets he kept in one of the corners of his desk.

you shake your head no, “not yet,” you close the door behind you gently, catching a peek of morgan and prentiss’ confused stares before turning to look at him.

aaron’s brows furrow at you closing his door, “are you alright?” he asks, stopping in his movements.

you shrug, “as alright as i can be, i guess,” you say, fiddling with your fingers. you feel yourself growing shy under his perplexed stare, but you push it down in order to ask, “are you alright?”

aaron blinks at you, the crease in between his forehead deepening even more, if possible. after a second, you can see the gears winding in his head before it all clicks together, the hardening stare he wore slowly dropping as he realizes what you mean.

“i’m fine.” he says shortly. you know from the many times you’ve accompanied other members of your team to check up on him that they would normally drop the questioning after that, but you weren’t like the rest of them. apparently.

“aaron,” you speak up, his gaze immediately flickering back up to you at your use of his first name, “i don’t think you’re a bully,”

your tone is genuine and comforting and he wants nothing but to completely delve into it. to bury himself in that same comfort and simply stay there as you whisper reassurances.

but the only thing he does in response is shake his head, continuing his maneuvering around his desk as a way to avoid what you were trying to do, “y/n, it’s okay.” he shakes his head, “i didn’t take any of it personally. gideon was right; reid wasn’t in his right mind during then,”

you shrug again, trying your best to get him to look at you without rounding his desk and standing right in front of him, “still. what jj said was pretty uncalled for,”

“well, i was the one who practically called for it,” aaron reminds you, looking up at you through his lashes as he continues to fix files.

you hum. you don’t know if what you’re trying to do is working or not, but you see the harsh lines around his brows soften and a faint pink bloom at his cheeks, one that makes your own face heat up.

“well,” you huff, “i also think that you’re pretty funny.” you shrug again, “really funny, actually.”

everything you’re telling him just now is true, but this is the most honest thing yet. derek, emily, and spencer all had their funny moments, yes, but aaron’s sense of humor was very similar to yours. and, to be fair, it didn’t come out as much due to him sticking to that false persona.

but when it did, you were the first one to understand the joke or the first to laugh and even the one laughing the hardest.

once again, aaron is frozen by your words, this time completely dropping what he was doing to stare you with bewilderment. he raises a brow, “you do?” his question is hesitant, like he doesn’t believe you.

and you know that he doesn’t. so you nod, “yeah,” you smile brightly at him, “you make me laugh a lot. even more than morgan.” this time you’re the one hesitating, taking a moment to wonder if what you’re doing is crossing a line between you and him. “or anyone else, really.” you tilt your head, “you’ve never noticed?”

aaron’s face is now a hot pink, and if it wasn’t for the sake of keeping up with his ‘stern’ facade, you’re sure he’d turn away and envelop his face in his hands.

he’s the one to shrug this time, “well, truth be told, i always get distracted by you.” a beat of silence passes before he clears his throat, averting his eyes to what you think is your shoes, “and your laugh.”

you beam despite the feeling of your face getting even hotter at his confession. you can’t help yourself from asking, “you like my laugh?”

“there’s a lot of things i like about you,” aaron admits, much more confident this time, a fond expression adorning his features.

you blush under his gaze, trying your hardest to conceal the wide smile that was threatening to appear on your face. you rock on your heels, hands folded behind your back shyly, “there’s a lot of things i like about you too, hotch.”

“aaron,” he says, not liking the way ‘hotch’ sounded after hearing you say his first name, “aaron, please,”

this time you can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips.

no, aaron hotchner wasn’t a bully at all.

[f1fantasys]

Teaser

Summary - basically just Lando smut.

Warnings - smut. p in v. unprotected sex. dominant Lando.

The final race weekend - in Abu Dhabi. Your boyfriend Lando was currently placed second on the driver standings. To say he was hyped up was an understatement. The whole week has been filled with a buzz of excitement. It had been a long time coming for an amazing McLaren result, and you couldn't be prouder of it was your Lando who achieved that.

You hadn't seen Lando all day as he was tied up with media duties today. You got yourself ready for a dinner that you both were going to with Charles and Alex. Lando, however, had other ideas. As soon as he'd arrived back to your hotel room and saw the mini black dress you were wearing, his hands were on your ass and his lips were on yours.

Tongues battling for dominance. Biting. Licking. He was starved of you.

''Y/N, Fuck I've missed you all day. Been waiting to taste your cherry lips for hours'' he said as he cupped your face and kissed you again.

''Lan,'' you chuckled. ''I've definitely missed you too, and as much as I want to carry on, we have dinner with Char and Alex tonight. She's just texted to say they're waiting downstairs for us'' you said as you pushed his chest away, but not before pecking him again.

He backed away, quicker than you thought he would, smirking at you.

''You asked for it, baby. Remember that for later'' he winked at you.

While Lando was in the shower you touched up on your makeup and fixed your hair. What you weren't prepared for, was Lando walking out of the bathroom. Butt-naked. Dick looking painfully hard, bouncing up and down, abs on full display and his little curls looking beautiful as ever.

Of course, you're always naked around each other. But there was something about him being naked and wearing a face that says ''I know you want to fuck me, but save it for later.''

You watched him with your mouth slight agape, clenching your thighs together because you could already feel the wetness pooling where you craved him the most.

''Y/N to Earth, baby'' he said pulling his boxers on and eventually the rest of his clothes, while you really couldn't think of anything but his dick in your mouth.

While in the elevator, Lando's hands found your ass again, and since you were wearing a short dress, it was easy for him to slip his finger under.

It was now his turn to widen his eyes when he discovered you weren't wearing panties and he immediately felt your wetness.

He smiled at you, ''You've made your own bed now, love, by not wearing any panties.'' Lando removed his hand from your pussy and licked his finger clean from your juices, which, thanks to him, were present.

''Oh boy'' you thought to yourself. But you loved this side of Lando. The release later would be worth all the tension now.

You walked hand in hand and found Alex and Charles waiting for you.

''Mate, took you long enough'' Charles said shaking hands with Lando.

''Yeah, Y/N missed me too much'' Lando smiled at you.

''Yeah right'' you stuck your tongue out at him.

The restaurant was a lovely intimate place. You took your seat next to Lando and immediately felt his hand on you thigh, where you knew it would take up residence for the rest of the evening out.

You quickly realized that the waiter was paying too much attention to you. Always looking at you only, always leaning over your side of the table. And he even winked at you a couple of times. You weren't sure if Lando had noticed, otherwise he would have reacted by now.

When it was time to choose dessert, Lando, having no filter with his mouth, looked at the waiter and said ''I know what i want for dessert, but unfortunately eating my girlfriend out is not on the menu'' he smirked at the waiter, whose face turned red and had no words to say.

''Fuck, Lando'' you shrieked. Charles and Alex trying to keep their giggles in.

Lando's hand slipped under your dress again to touch your core, and by now you were flustered. Firstly, by Lando saying things like that in public, and now sliding his fingers through your pool of juices again. Your breathing picked up and you started squirming in your seat.

He bought his lips by your ear and whispered ''Behave, or you'll pay for it later. You've already put yourself in trouble twice tonight..''

All you could do was bite your lip and nod.

Thank fuck you were in the uber back to the hotel. You needed him. The man fucking drove you crazy tonight, and you couldn't wait to let him have his way to you. And thank god Alex and Charles were in another uber. Lando's mouth was currently on your neck, leaving marks for sure. He was biting and licking and sucking, all while his had found your nipples through your dress and was pinching them harshly.

When you finally made it to your room, his hands and body were off from you.

You watched as he stripped down to his boxers, went for a piss, wash his hands, and climb into bed. You were dumbfounded.

''Night, baby'' he cooed and closed his eyes.

You were speechless. Is he really leaving you unsatisfied tonight? Yes, he is, because by the time you changed and climbed into bed, he was softly snoring. And you could always tell when he was faking it. This time, he wasn't.

'''Fucking hell'' you muttered. You were still so turned on. But you'd decided you'd fuck him senseless in the morning.

With that, you drifted off to sleep with your head nuzzled in his neck.

You weren't sure if you were dreaming or not - probably not, because you suddenly felt harsh licks on your cunt. You moaned out and your hands instinctively found Lando's head, in between your thighs.

He was lapping at you, sucking and biting down on your clit.

''Fuck Lan, what time is it?''

''Just past 2, but time for your punishment my baby'' he said looking up at you.

''Fuck'' was all your mind could form. You craved him and the whole yesterday, and night, and now your body was finally getting some pleasure.

Lando was so good at oral sex. The best you've ever had. And he knew your body so well. He knew what turned your moans into grunts and what turned your grunts into ''fucks.''

''Please, Lan'' and not a second later his tongue entered your hole. Sliding in and out of you, while your hands grabbed and pulled at his curls.

''Don't cum until i say you can'' he mumbled between your folds.

The room was filled with breathless ''fucks'' from your mouth, licks, and wet lapping sounds coming from Lando's mouth.

''Please Lan, i need to cum, please'' you begged.

''Nope, not yet.''

It took everything in you to hold it in, and when Lando knew you were close, he replaced his tongue with his fingers. He thrust two fingers in you at once. Hard and fast.

You grabbed onto the sheets until your knuckles were white.

''So tight for me baby. Cum'' was all he said before your juices erupted all over his fingers.

Your body was shaking from the stimulation as he slowed his movements to ride your high down, until he pulled out his fingers and licked them clean.

You pulled him up for a kiss and you could taste yourself. Salty and warm. But mixed with him, it just turned you again.

''Need to feel you in me, please Lan'' you begged him again.

''On the floor, on your knees'' he instructed, and you quickly obliged. You didn't want to waste time.

He sat at the edge of the bed and pulled your ass up. Stroking himself a few times, he plunged into you at once. He held his position.

''Baby, you okay?'' he asked.

''Yes, please. Please just fuck me'' you begged.

You could hear him smirk. ''You asked for it baby''

And he pulled out fully before thrusting in again. Hard. This is what you call fucking. In and out. In and out. Grabbing your hips for support, definitely leaving purple marks to show everyone you're his.

He was grunting now ''Fuck Y/N, how do you feel more amazing every time i fuck you? How do you take me so well? Fucking hell.'' he muttered.

''Lan, oh my god, please, yes. Feels amazing.'' you replied, moaning between the words.

You were sure that the people on the other side of the wall could hear you, but you didn't care one bit. If you could, you'd happily let the whole world listen to how good Lando fucks you.

''M'close'' you moaned.

''Fuck, baby, wait for me'' he said through gritted teeth.

''FUCK Lan I can't, I'm cumming'' and as you spluttered around Lando's dick, he let his warm cum fill you up. This was a position that Lando loved to cum, so his load was full and thick, hot and sticky.

He slid out of you and pulled you onto his la.p. Both of you breathing each others' air in, stealing pecks here and there.

''Lando that was incredible. Oh my god'' you said as you felt your legs were still shaking.

You suddenly got a burst of energy and quickly peeled yourself off of him to go on your knees again, except this time you were facing him.

His dick wasn't fully soft yet, so you took him into your hands and licked the tip.

He shuddered. ''Fuck Y/N, you're gonna make me hard again.''

''Need to taste you, please Lan'' you panted.

''Gonna be the end of me, you are'' he grunted before he held your head in his hands and guided you back and fourth on his cock.

You took what you could in your mouth and sucked, already tasting his precum leaking out of him. You pumped the rest and fondled with his balls.

Gagging you took one of his hands in and just held it, squeezing it when you felt tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

''What the fuck did i do to deserve this. Holy mother of fucking'' he said breathlessly.

You held onto his thighs for support and within minutes he was moaning your name.

''Y/N, I'm gonna cum, fuck'' and he let go. The warm liquid that he spluttered in your cunt minutes ago was now being spluttered to the back of your throat, delicious as ever.

You swallowed every last drop before finding your place on Lando's lap again, kissing him senseless. Both yours and his spit, plus him cum dripping down from your mouths and on to your bodies.

Eventually, when you separated, Lando got up to get a towel to clean you both up before jumping back into bed to cuddle you.

''Fuck that amazing.'' he said, still slightly breathless.

You were fucked out, your brain already seconds away from sleep, and all you could do was nod your head and mutter an ''I love you Lando.'' before falling into a well deserved sleep.

''Love you too baby'' he said kissing your head.

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat gojo satoru (II)

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: this is part TWO (and the final part) of the r u mine? mini series. make sure to read part one of this fic before proceeding! :)

content: 5.4k words, afab!reader, rich college frat boy gojo, SMUT (fingering & unprotected sex.. wrap it before u tap it kids!) ANGST, (i listened to deftones while writing the breakup era LMAOO i was in my feels 😔) gojo "everything reminds me of her" satoru is really going thru it, idk how to feel about the ending tbh, cheating implications, kinda proofread ig, more emo gojo (u luv to see it)

author's note: guys. where do i even start?? first of all, thank u for all the support on the first part of this mini series!! we also hit 100 followers on this blog so tysm for supporting me n my writing <3 here's the long awaited part two (n also the finale) as i promised that i would get it out over the weekend! just a quick announcement that i may be a little bit more inactive from here on out.. mainly because classes r starting again nd im starting to get busier. i do have more fic plans though, (and a geto smut in my drafts? 👀) so i'll make time to write when i can! happy reading and thank u for all the support on this silly little series :)

tags: @soley613 @feariteriu @bear-likes-mushrooms @96jnie @keilaq1 @whydohumansss @luftyluft @fatbootymuncher (bold = i'm unable to tag u)

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

everything’s been hazy.

you don’t really remember how you got home– you either waved down a cab or walked until you somehow found your house. either way, the alcohol is worsening the pounding in your ears. the straps of your dress are clinging terribly against your skin–you want to take it off, you want to wear something more comfortable, you want to just go to sleep, preferably forever… but you can’t bring yourself to.

you can’t even bring yourself to move.

so the rumors really were true? but why did gojo pursue so far just for you? why did gojo say those words to you when you spent the night together? why did gojo try so hard to convince you that night that he wanted to have sex with you because he loved you–and not solely because he wanted to have sex?

why did gojo lie to you?

another series of pings sound throughout the room, and you finally move to silence your phone. the noise is all so overwhelming. why the hell is your phone blowing up?

you check your notifications–mostly dms from people you don’t know, either asking if you and satoru were dating, or questioning you about what the hell happened at the party. you know that you’re gonna be the subject of gossip once you’re back at campus, and you hate it.

you were surprised at the numbers once you scrolled down your notification list a little further. ten missed calls from satoru, accompanied by a series of fifteen panicked messages. you open it, and you stare sadly at his contact photo and name, remembering the fond memory behind it. once you two actually started dating, you were merciful enough to add a heart next to his name, and even updated it to “toru”. he was elated at that.

you think you can barely even call him gojo now.

the most recent message was barely sent a minute ago. like it was on cue, you see the bright headlights pull up outside of your door. you wanted to sink into your couch and never resurface ever again.

you hear suguru’s car door open and close, and then frantic knocking outside. you walk to the door while sniffling, looking through the peephole just to confirm your suspicions. it was satoru.

“i can hear you crying through the door, y/n. i know you’re there.” he takes a deep inhale, and the tears start rolling down your cheeks again once you hear the complete and utter vulnerability in his voice. you just don’t know what to believe anymore. “shit, i’m crying too. well, i’m gonna explain myself even if you don’t care enough to listen to me. uhm, believe it or not, what happened at the party wasn’t my doing… at all. when you went to use the bathroom, this girl went up to me and started flirting with me, like she was waiting for you to leave or somethin’. i was g’na tell her to go fuck off but she pushed herself on my lap and before i could do anything about it you walked in and it was just all horrible timing and- god. i know it sounds unbelievable, right? you must think i’m terrible right now.”

“you don’t have to believe me. if i were in your shoes i wouldn’t know what to think either. i’m just… explaining what happened.”

there’s a long period of silence between you and satoru, aside from the occasional sniffling on both ends. you don’t know what to say. you want to believe him. you want to do nothing more than to open the door and let him hold you in his arms again, but you just don’t know what to think anymore. you poured your entire heart out to a man who you knew you shouldn’t be messing with, and now you don’t know who or what to believe. you feel like a fool, and you’re just tired. so damn tired. the silence feels asphyxiating, like it's tearing your relationship with satoru further and further apart the longer it draws on.

satoru is the first one to break the silence. “i’m guessing from the silent treatment that you don’t believe me. it’s okay, y/n. i’ll wait an eternity for you to forgive me because i’ll always choose you- fuck… over anything, and i hope you know that.”

your mind is a mess, and satoru’s words make it even messier.

i’ll wait an eternity for you

i’ll always choose you over anything

you put your head in your hands and sob. it hurts.

a minute passes–gojo hears you get up from where you’re sitting behind the door, and his heart fills with hope.

“i just… i just don’t know how to believe you, gojo.”

his heart breaks when he hears the door–presumably to your bedroom–open and close, leaving him alone with his shattered heart. his heart breaks when he takes in your voice, noticing how weak and exhausted you sounded. he wonders how much you’ve cried just from this past hour alone. his heart breaks once he realizes that he’s alone with his thoughts again, alone with the voice in his head that was berating him for not being able to prevent all of this if he hadn’t frozen up and just pushed her away the second that girl started flirting with him. finally, his heart breaks once it registers that you called him gojo–the last name that he shares with his corrupt and money-crazy family… the family he tries so hard to get away from. it was also the name you called him during the days that you barely trusted him.

now, he’s back to square one, and he has none of your trust again. this time, satoru swears that he’ll do anything in his power to get it back once more.

you didn’t come to school today.

there’s been nothing but radio silence on your end. gojo has sent you countless messages over the weekend asking how you’ve been, with the occasional desperate voicemail where he tells you that he loves and misses you. you’ve turned off your read receipts, so gojo doesn’t even know if you’ve seen his texts or listened to his voicemails. he’s concerned for you, even though he knows that he’s the reason behind all of this. he was hoping to talk things out with you today.. but you weren’t even here.

one thing gojo knew about you is that you cared deeply about your academics, and you wouldn’t miss attendance even if you were sick. it pains him to know that he was the reason that you weren’t here today. you were avoiding him, and he felt helpless.

he’s talked to geto—and the best advice that his best friend could offer was to “find proof that you didn’t cheat on her.” he’s right, though. the last thing you had said to gojo was that you don’t know how to believe if he’s telling the truth or not. gojo has absolutely no idea how to prove his fidelity to you, since words clearly weren’t enough. it frustrates him to no end.

gojo now knows that he feels absolutely lost. all when he’s not with you.

it feels nerve-wracking to walk the halls. 

he remembers telling you the night that you slept together that he’d learned over time to drown out the rumors about him. he learned not to care about what other people thought about him, and he eventually became unaffected by the school’s gossip. 

however, this time was different.

this time, he finds it difficult to drown out the rumors when he hears your name in them. he flinches every time someone whispers your name and his as he walks the halls, feeling that all eyes are on him. “i heard y/n and gojo broke up…” “they were dating?!” “yeah.. i didn’t believe it at first, either! apparently he…”

he doesn’t want to hear it, so he walks a little faster. it hasn’t felt this suffocating to be on campus in a while.

maybe that’s partially why you didn’t show up. rumors are hard to ignore if you don’t know how to shun them out. 

gojo lets out a sigh. he decides that he’s going to ditch the rest of class. you weren’t here, he couldn’t talk to you, and he felt he was gonna go mad if he heard your name spoken by someone again, so he turns to leave, but flinches as he feels a hand lightly tap his shoulder.

“gojo-san?”

he turns around, with a girl that he’s never seen before standing in front of him… not that he pays attention to them in the first place, though. he raises his eyebrow in question, and the girl looks so nervous she might pass out. “i have to tell you something-“

“if it’s a love confession or whatever, i don’t want to hear it-“

“-no!” she flushes a deep shade of red, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. she coughs awkwardly at his expression. “um, no.. it’s not that. please, just give me two minutes in the library. i have something to tell you.”

he decides to entertain this girl for a bit. he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious about what she had to talk to him for. gojo sighs and says, “two minutes. that’s all you’re getting.”

“this is about the party last friday, no?” he says while taking a seat near one of the tables. he feels sick just being here. he’d never gone to the library before meeting you–as he had no reason to go here at all. then, he started accompanying you everywhere as he tried to win your heart. “study dates” were frequent here, and he even remembers forcefully changing his contact name and number on your phone during one of your dates.

gosh, everything literally reminds him of you. he can barely live like this.

she takes a seat across from him, and she shamefully nods at his words. “i went to the party on friday, and i just want to say i’m sorry-”

gojo gets up to leave. he can’t do this. he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. pity can’t change the fact that you still won’t talk to him. she panics as gojo is about to walk away. “wait!”

the librarian tells her to quiet down, and she mutters an apology. still, she persists. “please, just wait for two minutes… i need two minutes to explain myself. you promised you’d give me that.”

she stares at gojo, who hasn’t left yet, and takes that as her opportunity to speak. “i was a friend of… her,” he doesn’t need an explanation to know who she was talking about. “the reason why she came up to you was because of a dare i told her to do. she’s had a crush on you for a while now, so of course she was willing to flirt with you.”

“um, that was the dare, by the way. my friend told me to record it, because we were all drunk, and we thought it would be funny. just another memory to laugh at in the future, right? we didn’t know you were dating the girl you were with at the party. sorry but, we assumed she was just a fling… or something… we didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

“yeah, i was dating the girl at the party.” gojo scoffs, and he feels his anger bubbling up again. “then your friend had to do that stupid dare, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.”

“i’m sorry-”

“i don’t need your apologies. is that why you came up to me? to apologize so you don’t feel guilty about what happened anymore?” gojo sneers. he was right, though. guilt is ridden all over her face, and she can’t even meet his eyes. he’s about to leave, thinking that this entire conversation was useless, but gojo thinks back on what she said earlier.

“...my friend told me to record it…”

he turns back to look at her, which surprises her, to say the least. “hey, you said you recorded the dare, right?”

“uhm, yes.”

“so you still have the video?”

“it should be in my camera roll somewhere-”

“if you came here to apologize to me, then you should send me that video.” she looked a little horrified at his words, and gojo could almost laugh. “what? i’m not gonna do anything bad with it, god.”

she thinks about what gojo’s intentions could be with that video, and her eyes light up in recognition as she connects the dots from what he said beforehand. i was dating the girl at the party… then your friend had to do that stupid dare… and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.

she nods in understanding. this is the least she could do for him. she pulls out her phone, looking for the video, and says, “i hope you two make up soon, gojo-san.”

gojo satoru walks- no, runs out of that library with determination. determination as he finally has the video evidence of what happened at the party–his saving grace so he could finally get you to forgive him.

you miss him.

you miss him like hell, actually, and you blink at the messages he just sent you in complete disbelief.

you didn’t show up to class today because you were afraid. you were afraid to see satoru again, yes, but you were also afraid of what everyone else would say about you. the party was one thing, but the after-effects and the rumors were something completely different. you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that, unlike satoru, so you stayed home. all because you were afraid of what would happen on campus.

you just wish things would go back to how they were before… all of this happened. you didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve read all of satoru’s messages, and you’ve listened to all of his voicemails. you’ve cried to them. and it hurts because you’re still torn apart in the midst of your own feelings. and now, satoru wants to talk to you, because he’s been wanting to do nothing but fix everything between the two of you.

the doorbell rings, and you almost jump out of your skin. 

you didn’t even know if you would open the door or not. despite that, you felt your body moving on its own, like you were relying on your own instincts. you washed your face to get rid of the dried tears on your cheeks, brushed the tangles out of your hair, and dressed into something more presentable. the next thing you know, you’re leaning against the wall next to the front entrance. your shadow is visible underneath the door, so satoru knows that you’re here.

“hi, y/n..” he sounded so nervous that you almost laughed, but you felt equally as terrified as him. “i have something to show you… uh, on my phone. if you don’t want to see me, it’s fine, i’ll just send it to you, but i’d really prefer if you open the door and we’ll talk about this inside-”

your hand is already reaching the door knob before you can even think about it. it’s such an impulse decision that you look at him in surprise once you open the door. it’s the first time you’ve seen him ever since you were at the party. it’s only been three days, but you can’t help but notice how his eyebags are more prominent, his eyes are a little redder, and he looks nothing short of exhausted.

“hey,” he manages to breathe out, his eyes meeting yours. “can i come in? please?”

you nod, too stunned to say anything, and he exhales in relief as he walks in. the two of you sit on the couch, and gojo notices how you’re keeping your distance from him. it breaks his heart a little.

he looks for the video on his phone and gets ready to show it to you. this is it. his last ditch effort for your forgiveness. he’s really fuckin’ hoping that this works. “i got this video from a girl who came to the party. it’s a recording of, um, what happened.”

he hands the phone over to you, and you take it skeptically, still choosing to keep silent. you press play, and you watch the recording. a shaky hand holds the camera, and the person behind it says, “holy shit, she’s actually doing it!” they're presumably talking to their friend, and the camera focuses on a girl walking over to gojo. your heart is pounding, eyes widening in recognition as you stare at her... the one who caused all of this in the first place.

the all too familiar girl comes up to him, saying something out of earshot. when gojo looks at her, completely uninterested, she pulls that move. the scene you saw at the party before you ran out. tears fill your eyes again, and you almost want to stop the video, but your interest is piqued at the next part.

..this… this part was something that you didn’t see. gojo angrily reacts at the girl’s move, with her falling on the floor as she looks at him, stunned at how furious he looks. the person behind the camera gasps, continuing to record out of shock as a crowd of people turn to stare at the two. geto eventually comes into the frame and takes gojo away from all the chaos. the video ends there, and you grip gojo’s phone shakily.

holy shit.

tears roll down your face, but this time, they’re tears of relief. you waste no time in hugging satoru, crying your heart out as you bury your face in his neck. you’re happy. you’re so fucking happy, and so relieved knowing that he didn’t lie to you. of course he didn’t.

“m’sorry-” you sniffle into his shoulder. gojo is so shocked at what was happening that it takes him a second to hug you back, but when he does, he starts crying. “m’so fucking sorry i didn’t believe you-”

“shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he says, and you only hug him tighter. “m’so tired, you know that? these past three days fucking sucked. i’m just so glad you’re in my arms again, fuck-”

“-i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, toru.” you repeat, laughing as you kiss him all over his face. it’s been a while since you said that to someone. you wipe his never-ending tears away, still in disbelief, and whisper, “you’re real. right? you’re actually here with me right now ‘nd i’m not dreaming, right?

“i’m very much real, baby.” he says, putting his forehead against yours as you take in his features again. “god, i missed that pretty face so much.”

he finally closes the gap between you two, pulling you into a much needed kiss. it’s a kiss filled with so many emotions–desperation, happiness, relief. satoru thinks his heart is finally whole again. he’s missed you. he’s missed you so fucking much, and you’ve missed him too. 

you’re like an anchor to satoru. the light of his life that keeps him grounded. and god, he’s been apart from you for too long. 

you reposition yourself as you’re deepening the kiss. you’re on his lap now, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair in desperation. “oh yeah? ‘y gonna do anything about it?"

“of course i am,” he says, hands roaming underneath your shirt as he caresses your bare waist. fuck. he needs you. right now. especially after thinking that he was about to lose you forever–for something that he didn’t even do. “i’m gonna show you just how much i missed you, baby.”

gojo can’t let you go.

you’re in your bedroom, and both of you waste no time undressing each other. he takes you in–all of you, in awe of every crevice of your body as he trails his hands further down your waist.

god, you’re so beautiful. “i can’t believe i almost lost you.”

his words are shaky, like he’s still uncertain that you’re real and you’re in his arms again. he can’t seem to break himself away from you, almost like you’ll disappear if he lets you go. “but i’m here now, toru.”

“i’m here to stay, and i’ll never let you go again… ‘m yours,” you whisper, and your words set a fire in him, fueling his body with nothing but desperation. desperation to have you right here, and right now. 

he wastes no time in plunging two of his fingers in your cunt, and he groans at just how wet you are. “satoru-”

“fuck, you’re so wet… and it’s all for me,” he mutters, spreading your legs effortlessly when you try to close them, thighs shaking in pure pleasure. he adds another finger, and you already feel stretched to the brim, and you haven’t even taken him in yet. the thought of his cock inside of you makes you even wetter than you already are, and you look up at satoru with eyes full of lust and desire. “missed you so much, baby. missed you and your pretty little cunny,”

his fingers are long, and you whine at how full you feel right now. you’re so loud, and you don’t even care. right now, it’s just you and satoru finally feeling each other again. it’s only been three days, but it feels like you’ve been apart for years.

everything about this was filthy. from your erotic moans and the way your cunt squelched against his fingers… not to mention the vice grip you had on them- fuck, satoru thinks he can cum untouched just from watching you like this.

“haa-” you whimper when his fingers curl and hit that spot in your cunt that you can barely seem to reach on your own. it’s exhilarating, and only fuels the growing heat in your stomach. “toru- don’t stop- please, i’m close-”

“really?” he taunts, and it feels so fucking good–your head is numb, and the only thoughts filling your head are thoughts of satoru. the pleasure is too much, and you try to get away from him, but he keeps you in place, curling his fingers faster as punishment. “don’t run away from me, baby… be a good girl and just take it, yeah?”

“toru- fuck- i’m gonna cum, please-” you’re on the brink of release, but suddenly, he stops, ruining your orgasm. “no- wait-”

he pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. you were so close–why did he take that away from you? you try and swat at his hands, but he just takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, locking his eyes with yours with a sly smile. “you taste so sweet, i can’t help it,”

“aww, is my baby mad ‘cause she didn’t get to cum?” he coos sarcastically, caging you in between his arms as he tilts your face up with his finger. “too bad… the only thing you’re cumming on tonight is on my cock.”

and with that, he eases his painfully hard member into your walls. your insides hugged him perfectly–it was like you were made just for him. you gasp once he’s fully sheathed himself inside of you. his fingers were already a lot to take in, but his cock was something completely different. he moans your name, barely keeping his cool. “fuck- you’re squeezing me so tight,”

“missed everything about you, baby. i need to hold you, please,” he pleads desperately, clasping your small hands against his. the size difference alone between the two of you almost makes him cum, but he holds himself back, choosing to bask in this intimate moment. he’s missed every part about this. “you ready f’me?-”

“-just fuck me, satoru, please-” he doesn’t need another confirmation from you.

he can’t bring himself to hold back. next thing you know, he’s fucking you into the mattress, and you feel the headboard shake at how fast satoru is going. fuck–you feel every part of him, every part of his cock as it slams against your tight hole. he’s so big, you feel yourself gasping for breath, and you moan out loud as you notice the prominent bulge forming in your stomach. it’s him, it’s all him, and it’s driving you mad.

satoru follows your eyes in the midst of all of this, and he watches everything in fascination. he decides to be a little mean, and presses his free hand against your stomach–it feels so good, you could almost scream at the pleasure. “you feel that, baby? that’s all me inside of you, hmm?”

“please-” the onset of pleasure feels so overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes. you feel an oncoming orgasm coming, and you know your release will hit you like a tidal wave. your heart is pounding, but satoru only grips your hand tighter and fucks you even harder. “oh, fuck!”

“m close, baby. are you g’na cum too?” he manages to say between pants, and you somehow nod, mind hazy and your release only coming closer. you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “cum inside of me, toru- please- i need to feel you-”

gojo groans at your words, and you both cum together. you ride out your high, screaming as you spasm around his cock, the pleasure overfilling your senses until you’re trembling from it. he fills you up, staying inside of you as the two of you catch your breath. everything’s hazy, and you’re barely aware of your surroundings… it takes you a few minutes to recover. 

“angel, are you with me?”

“yeah, fuck, just… give me a second.” you say, and gojo thinks that he would gladly give you all the time in the world if you needed it. he pulls out of you with a hiss, and his warm seed drips out of your cunny. it makes his cock twitch, but he knows that you’re probably not considering a round two right now.

when you come to your senses, you notice satoru–who put his clothes back on already, wiping your legs down with a rag. his touch is so soft, like he’s afraid to break you, unlike how he handled you just a moment ago. you look down and notice the bruises starting to form on your legs and waist. satoru looks guilty as he stares. “i didn’t go too rough with you, did i?”

“not at all,” you reassure him, and you see him soften up a little. “it felt really good, actually… thank you, toru.”

“s nothing. you know my girl only gets the best,” he teases, and you laugh. “i’m gonna go get you some new clothes and some water… i’ll be back, okay?”

you nod, closing your eyes again as satoru leaves the room. he’s back in two minutes, and he’s gently changing you into new clothes that he found in your drawer. you’re so tired that you can hardly move, so you let satoru do all the work. he caresses all of your bruises, apologizing again even if you already said that it was okay. he’s so gentle, a swift juxtaposition to what just happened beforehand, and so soft with you. once you’re clothed again, he brings a glass of water against your lips, and you greedily gulp it down as he keeps a hand on your back. he places it on the nightstand once you’re finished, and you grab his wrist after, tugging him back to the bed. “lay with me for a bit, toru.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate, laying down next to you on the bed and placing your head against his chest. your breathing is back to normal, and you feel his heart thumping against your ear. you wrap your arms around him, and satoru thinks that this moment is so domestic that he can’t help but daydream. he looks at your face, memorizing every feature about you with a lovesick look in his eyes. you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and he’s just so fucking glad that he didn’t lose you. 

satoru thinks he could wake up to this everyday.

“you’re starin.” you say with an amused look on your face. gojo doesn’t even try to play it off. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing. i just… love you so much, y/n.” he says, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. satoru would trade anything if it meant that this moment wouldn’t end. “m so glad you chose me.”

“i think it’s the other way around,” you tease. “you chose me. ever since you saw me at the party, you’ve done nothing but try to win my heart.”

“how could i not? there was just something different about you compared to everyone else.” he reminisces about that night at the party, and how far he’s come with his relationship with you. he remembers that night like it just happened yesterday.

you sigh, almost like you were thinking about that night too. you pull him into a kiss, finally finding the courage within you to say a proper “i love you.” to the man who meant the world to you.

“i love you too, angel.” he says, and you snuggle into him tighter. “you know i’ll always choose you…”

“..from this life and into the next. i’m so glad you gave me a chance, y/n. i’ll forever be grateful to now be called your husband. i’m the luckiest man ever knowing that you let me into your life, and i’m the one who gets to read these vows to marry you. i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you so much, y/n gojo.” he’s crying. gojo satoru is crying, and he’s hardly ever cried before. though, that changed after he met you.

the last time he cried was during pre-k, and now he’s done it time and time again… all because of you. he cried once during your first argument with him, another during the night he thought he’d lost you forever, and then another when he finally had you in his arms again once he proved his innocence… and now, during his wedding, when he finally gets to call you his wife.

and when you share your kiss at the end of the ceremony to symbolize your togetherness, you hear all your friends cheering. mainly shoko, utahime, and geto. if you showed this very scene to shoko during your university years, she’d call you crazy, saying this would never happen. gojo satoru was once a man who’d never willingly committed in a relationship before, but you came into his life and you changed everything about him. it was like magic.

you pull away from the kiss, wiping his tears away and whispering against his lips, drowning out the crowd, “thank you.”

for memorizing all my favorite foods so you could buy them for me. for walking me to class every day. for making me fall in love with you that one day at the park. for waiting for me to slowly love you even when i was scared to love. for waiting for me even if i didn’t trust you. for loving me. for proving those rumors wrong. for proving that satoru gojo is actually capable of falling in love and pouring his heart out to the one he loves the most.

for everything that you have done to love me.

it was like gojo could hear all of your unspoken words. he smiles, letting one more tear roll down his cheek, and says, “it’s all worth it if it’s for you.”

thanks for reading <3 -kami.

[bunnys-kisses]

Can i order Chocolate chip cookies, croissant and coconut water served by ceo!lewis and secretary!reader

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own fic? then hit up the menu! there are tons of options to choose from, large orders and small orders welcomed! and if you have a burning idea that doesn't fit the bakery menu, then request something special! thank you to this lovely anon for a remarkable yet simple prompt! thank you!!

chocolate chip cookies ("you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat") + croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + coconut water (alternate universe) served by ceo!lewis hamilton (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, ceo!lewis, secretary!reader, horner!daughter, office sex, dirty talk, mean & dominant!lewis,

you were told that working for hamilton would be a good idea. your father assured you that working outside of the company he founded would be good for you.

"you can learn so much." your father said with his hands on your shoulders, "working under hamilton will be an amazing experience." your father would've never suggested you work for lewis if he had knew you'd end up with your panties around your ankles and the sound of the big, scary ceo fucking you up against his desk.

"your tits have gotten bigger." he said as he groped them between his large hands. you looked at lewis from under your lashes, "didn't get any work done, did you? i feel like that's something i should know."

most bosses did not care about the size of their secretary's breasts. they definitely didn't grope them like they were a toy. but still, you were in lewis' lap with his hands on you. he smelled lightly of liquor, something he gave a little to you earlier while you were perched in his lap.

"no, sir. just went home last weekend."

lewis made a small pleased noise, "did you do anything? anything i should know about?" when your father called in to check in on you, lewis hid some of the details. you were doing so well (at taking lewis' cock), you were a hard worker (you didn't cry when he choked you anymore), and you were such a team player (anything lewis wanted. you were game for).

like when lewis let his associates have an afternoon with you on his boat, where you served them drinks. verstappen got a good eye of your breasts in the tiny bikini and sainz almost dropped his drink out of his hand when he saw you bend over to pick up something that lewis (purposefully) dropped on the ground. you looked painfully cute, even when you got into lewis' lap when you were done your serving duties. and stayed comfortable in his lap while he talked business. but the men with him were too busy seeing if your nipples were going to slip out of the tiny bikini top.

you shook your head, "no, sir. went to my apartment and drank wine." you winced when he groped your thigh once more.

his nose was up against your neck as he held onto you, "shame. you could've spent the weekend with me." he rubbed your thigh almost tenderly, "leclerc would've been happy to see you." you knew you weren't the only secretary who was being fucked by their boss.

his fingers trailed across the bottom of your skirt. you held onto him tightly. you shuddered a little at his touch, he loved the sight of you. when you got all flustered in his lap.

"i know, sir. but if i spend too much time at the office. my father might get suspicious." you said as his thick fingers dragged across your cunt which made you gasp a little.

"mmm. i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." he said softly, before he got you off his lap and onto the desk. he shoved two of his fingers into your mouth, you could taste the bit of wetness on them. you whined and arched your back while he pushed your skirt up over your ass. it exposed the pretty panties with the daisies on them. a personal favourite.

you happily sucked his fingers like the eager girl you were. you whimpered against his digits. your heart hammered in your chest while you tried to be quiet for him.

"while i think you're beautiful when you smile. but, you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat. too bad i can't take your throat right now. but i know she misses me." referring to your pussy.

he took his fingers out your mouth and you covered your mouth with your hands. you couldn't be too loud, as much as lewis enjoyed your kitten mewls. he eyed your pretty wet cunt when he got your panties around your ankles. he got his cock out of his slacks and loosened his tie. you really knew how to get him going.

"you know how to behave, baby girl. always so good for me." then watched you tense up while he got his cock into you. in all fairness you were sort of bad at your job, he was certain this favor for horner was only meant to last a few months before you were swapped out with someone more competent.

but he was certain the no other woman he hired would have a pussy like yours. how easily he could sink into you, the perfect feeling. you bit your bottom lip and whimpered against your palms.

"that's it. see, you are good at something. maybe your father was right, that there was some kind of work ethic in you. maybe it's not what he hoped for. he thought you'd be a lovely book keeper. not bent over my desk with your pretty ass in the air." he groped your flesh, he could feel the heat under his palms. next time he'd lay a few heavy smacks across it. if the office wasn't too busy.

you whimpered a little bit and tried to defend yourself but lewis put his hand on your head and pressed your cheek to the hard desk. you were only the secretary. your job was to take calls and get coffee. decision making on his level was not need to be good at your job.

it didn't help that you knew your insides would be bruised.

he moved against you and you felt hot all over. you panted heavily while he kept you pinned onto the desk. you heavily panting against the hard wood of the desk. he was a man of power doing your father a favour. you had no real skills besides how you could be a good girl for powerful men like hamilton.

"lewis." you moaned softly. you could feel the heat down your neck, your core was soaked because of him. he had trained you so well over the last few months.

"ah, i'm not doing a good job right now. you're still able to form words." then picked up the pace. which made you flail a little bit until he kept you pinned down onto the desk by the back of your neck.

you felt a lot more in a daze he continued to hit your sweet cervix. his cock bullies and bruised you. and you clawed at the desk. a behaving little girl.

he came first. not because he was a fast finisher, but rather he tasted your cunt until he got his satisfaction first. which left you feeling more blissed out, his cock still hard inside of you.

you came hard, just like you have done every other time. lewis knew how to make you crazy. you clenched onto the side of the desk as you climaxed around him. you panted heavily and felt your brain go blank for moment as you relaxed against the wood. squishing your pretty breasts against it.

he grabbed your ass for a moment before he was a gentleman and pulled your pretty panties over your ass before he gave it a pat. he got himself back into his slacks and he got your skirt back over your ass.

you weren't thinking about much when he got you back into his lap. his cum soaked the front of your panties. you rested against him and he held onto your hand carefully.

"maybe we should call your father while i give you your performance review." his finger dragged across your slit once more. he could feel the wet patch and smiled. poor little thing.

you nodded and lewis was only going to tell your old man how good you were working for him. you'll be with the company for a few more months, and then you'll be the stay-at-home wife for lewis hamilton. <3

[pinkthrone445]

hi my love! I hope you are well. <3

can I suggest a smut + fluff where the reader is insecure about some scars she has on her body, and the poor girl is scared that Melissa won't find her pretty? And when Mel finds out about this, does she show how beautiful and precious Y/N is to her?

Thanks for the sweet request! I'm good and I hope you´re too. I also hope that you like this💕

🎄Happy holidays yall! Smutsanta it's bringing hot requests for naughty people and your names are on my naughty list! Enjoy!🎄

~Let me remind you~

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender: Fluff - Smut ⚠️

Warnlings : (+18) strong words, fingering, vulgar language. Age gap(legal)

Summary:The thought of being intimate with the redhead was scary and your insecurities played tricks on you, but Mel takes care of chasing away all your fears.

Tired, that's how you felt. Your mind anywhere but where you should be paying attention, on the professor who was talking in front of you explaining the important topics that would go into your next exam. In your mind, the last conversation with your girlfriend, Melissa, kept playing

-"I can't believe that this is your last exam and you'll already be an elementary school teacher, and it's so good that you're already assured of a position at Abbott when you leave here from college. We should celebrate this! What do you think about renting a cabin for the two of us for the weekend? We could have a relaxing soak in a hot tub, go to a restaurant, spend a lot of time together..."-Spending a lot of time together, that played over and over in your head. You and Melissa had been dating for a couple of months, because of her schedule and yours, you had never been together too much time like a whole weekend, a weekend dedicated just to you and her. While you were excited to spend so much time with her, it also made you nervous to think about how intimate it would be. The times you and Mel had been together before, it had been in a hurry, a quick visit to the dorm room at the university, where she didn't have time to completely undress you and only took off your pants to put her hand inside to make you cum before your roommate arrived, or a quick visits to her school, where you went to her car to do it, where there wasn't much room and she couldn't see you well.

But this time would be different, Melissa would have all the time and space in the world to be with you and see your body, see every inch of your body. See every imperfection on your body. A sigh left your lips, you felt sad just imagining her seeing you completely naked, and if she didn't like it? What if she regretted being with you? What if she was disgusted? It would be hard to go to the same school to work if you knew she was disgusted by you or if she couldn't stand to see you.

The sound of your teacher ending class and your classmates getting up to leave, took you out of your thoughts. After taking your things, you went back to your room. A couple of hours later, your cell phone rang, it was a message from Melissa, to know if you would go out together, to book the cabin. Although you weighed in on a thousand excuses, none of them carried enough weight to tell her that you wouldn't go, so you ended up accepting your girlfriend's invitation.

As the weekend approached, your nerves grew bigger and bigger, the knot in your stomach hurt more, and you had more and more doubts about whether you would be able to do so.

The day arrived and Melissa excitedly picked you up on campus, helped you carry your bag to the car and let you choose the playlist while she drove. When you arrived at the cabin, it was a beautiful and very decorated place, it was a romantic and delicate house, so romantic that the only thing it did was make your nerves grow.

Melissa had made many plans to make the most of the weekend, romantic dinners, evening walks on the beach, brought movies to watch, and asked to be left with groceries at the cabin so she could cook your favorite meal for you. But your mind only traveled to the same moment, the moment when you're in bed together and she sees you completely naked. You tried to avoid it by doing it somewhere else where she couldn't completely see you. When you were in the restaurant having dinner, you proposed to go to the bathroom because you knew that they would have little room and it would have to be fast, but the redhead denied saying that she felt too full to move. When you walked along the beach you proposed it to her again, since there was little light and she couldn't see you very well, but Mel shook her head again, saying how uncomfortable it was after having to scoop out the sand that sticks to every inch of your body. With no other ideas, you sighed and didn't keep trying.

Arriving home, while Mel was putting down her coat, you went upstairs to the room planning what to do, but you were startled when you felt the redhead's hands on your waist as she kissed your shoulders

-"Don't panic, it's just me... Let me tell you, that dress looks beautiful on you and I'm so happy we were able to go out together, it feels nice to spend time with you without hurries..."-She spoke in a soft, loving voice, and you smiled

-"You look beautiful too... Thank you for everything you planned..."-You replied smiling but a sigh left your lips and the redhead looked at you worriedly

-"Are you okay hon?"-Mel asked turning to see you face to face and you nodded not very convinced, your eyes were a little watery from the fear you had and that did not go unnoticed by her, it only worried her more and she hugged you tightly-"hey hey, What's going on? You know you can trust me"

-"I know, it's just something very stupid..."-You whispered and she frowned

-"It's not a stupid thing if it makes you want to cry"-Mel kissed your forehead and you sighed hiding in her neck

-"Can I ask you something?"- You whispered against her neck and she nodded, gently massaging your back-"I know this weekend is just for us, to enjoy and have a good time, but when we do, sex I mean, can it be with the lights off?"-Your voice was just a whisper, like the voice of a frightened child, or like when you try to scream in a dream and your voice doesn't come out. The redhead looked at you confused, stopping her caresses

-"Why are you asking for that hon? It's not the first time we'll do it, plus if you don't want to do it you could have told me, you know I would never force you to do anything, it just confuses me that you were quite insistent on doing it in different places earlier tonight...If it's because you're not waxed, I've told you before that I don't care"-Melissa looked at you trying to figure out the reason and you sighed

-"It's not that... The previous times we've done it, you haven't seen me, you've only touched me, you never took all my clothes off... And I'm embarrassed... I'm ashamed and scared that now that you'll have time to take a good look at me, you won't like what you see"-You responded by avoiding her gaze and she gently grabbed your cheeks to get you to pay attention to her

-"You have a perfect body, what are you talking about?..."- she asked with concern in her voice

-"It's not perfect... You only say that because you haven't seen it, but it's full of marks and some scars... My previous boyfriends and friends made it very clear to me how ugly my body looks with that..."You answered and now it was her turn to sigh shaking her head

-"My love... No one it's perfect, we all have our flaws, I mean, look at how many wrinkles I have or how the skin on my arms hangs a little... And let's not start talking about how the years had left my crotch... But, when we are with the right person, it doesn't matter anymore how ugly we see ourselves, we can be perfect in someone else's eyes. The things you are ashamed of, will only become reasons to love yourself more in the eyes of the right person. Where you see scars that embarrass you, I see reminders of how strong you are, it should never be a reason to feel ashamed, but to feel proud. The marks on your body show life experiences, no one would ever complain about the words and marks we find written on the pages of books that tell us a story, no one should ever complain about the marks on your skin that tell your story. Your body is yours and you shouldn't let anyone say anything bad about it, nor believe them when they do... But when you have doubts and don't feel pretty, I'll be there reminding you every day how perfect you are. Okay?"-Melissa spoke in a soft voice and you nodded still hidden in her neck. She carefully grabbed your blouse-" I want to see you... Can I take off your blouse?"-She asked and you nodded again, pulling back a little so that she could take it off-" Can I take your pants off?"-she asked again and you nodded, letting her do it. Mel very carefully and delicately removed your bra, knelt carefully at your feet, and also removed your underwear. A shiver ran through your body and you tried to cover yourself with your hands when she stood up in front of you, looking at you very intensely, but the redhead didn't let you. She took your hands gently, kissed your knuckles and then took your waist carefully, you thought maybe she would start kissing you, but instead, she carefully turned you around making you stand in front of a very large mirror in the room. Seeing yourself so exposed only made you embarrassed and you looked down. Mel clung closer to you, hugging you from behind and resting her head on your shoulder, with her hand she grabbed your chin and made you look in the mirror-"Look at yourself sweetheart, there's nothing wrong with you"-Her fingertips rested gently on your scars, running very gently over them-"Nothing wrong with you, just reasons to love you more... Do you believe me?"-whispered against your ear and kissed your neck

-"I'm trying"-You responded smiling when you felt her kisses

-"I'll kiss you until you believe me"-She replied and you felt how her hands caressed your waist and legs, her mouth leaving kisses and marks on your skin. The whole situation was very intimate, very intoxicating, her perfume and her soft skin surrounding you, her hands running over your body, her soft words and caresses in places that even you wouldn't touch. The shame you had turned into desire, a desire to continue listening to her sweet voice, a desire to continue to feel her caresses, a desire to be in her presence forever. But even so, you were still finding it hard to look at yourself in the mirror. Melissa's hands gently moved to your crotch, parting your folds with one of her fingers, while her other hand massaged one of your breasts, that by the desire and the moment, your nipples were very stiff and hard, very sensitive to her caresses.

A groan left your lips and you closed your eyes resting your head on her shoulder, but that made her stop all her movements. Confused, you opened your eyes and saw her seriousness in the reflection of the mirror

-"I want you to see yourself, or I'll stop my movements... I want you to see how perfect you are and get used to seeing yourself the way you are, I want you to see how I touch you, I want you to see yourself react to my caresses, I want you to see yourself until the moment you come on my fingers"-Mel bit your ear and you let it out a quiet cry. When she saw that you were still looking at yourself in the mirror, she resumed her movements. Her index finger began to caress your sex gently in circles, slowly but firmly. Your hips began to move involuntarily against her hand, wanting to keep up with her, but she pulled you closer to her body. Her crotch brushing against your ass only made you desperate and move more against her. The redhead moaned in your ear and her movements picked up faster. You were overwhelmed by the delicacy of the moment, how could she say such sweet words while her fingers opened and touched you like that. Her touch felt hot and addictive, like the warmth of a campfire when you're cold, her heart beating on your back, heaving and uncontrolled like yours, her breath hot against your neck, her lips giving little kisses and bites on your skin, one of her hands holding you against her crotch while the other hand caressed your button desperately. Feeling and seeing all that in the mirror, made your body start to spasm. But seeing how your breasts began to bounce and your hips moved uncontrollably against her hand made you orgasm on the redhead's fingers. A moan in unison left your lips and hers, with her free hand she took your jaw and kissed you gently while her fingers were still making lazy circles over you clit.

With your body tired and agitated, you turned around hugging her and hiding in her neck again, not out of embarrassment this time, but out of lack of strength. Mel kissed your head and carefully guided you to the bed, still hugging you.

After a couple more rounds and sweet words, you fell asleep on her chest, both of you completely naked and your legs intertwined.

The next day, you woke up when the sun had already risen a couple of hours ago, you were confused by not seeing Mel next to you, but when you heard the noises from the kitchen, you knew that she was surely making breakfast. After stretching a little, you got up to look for something to wear, but you stopped in front of the mirror looking at your completely naked body with a smile, you were full of delicate and soft marks, but especially, Mel had taken it upon herself to kiss and highlight with marks all the contour of your scars, with your fingertips you ran your scars smiling and then you got dressed.

Going down to the dining room, you smiled at all the food on the table and the amazing smell, carefully approached the redhead and hugged her

-"Good morning beautiful, how did you sleep?"-she whispered against your hair and then kissed you

-"So good... I wish this weekend would never end, I don't want to forget everything that happened last night... I appreciate it so much..."-You whispered. Melissa walked away from you and turned on the stereo, smiling as you looked at her in confusion

-"You know, I read an article that said that when we associate a song with a moment, it makes it stick more etched in our memory, I'll put a song, so that every time you hear it or every time you doubt how beautiful you are, you remember this moment, how much I love you and how perfect you are"-She smiled before putting on the song and starting to sing it for you as she hugged you.

(This is the song that Mel it's singing, I dedicate to all the soft souls out there❤️)

[the-authoress-writes]

Up Where We Belong Part Two

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Up Where We Belong Masterlist

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties), some to-be-expected cursing, depiction of the beginnings of a panic attack (it doesn’t become a full blown one).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: I intended this to be a two part story, but as always, it didn’t turn out that way (my brain is like a mushroom farm at this point), and the third part of this (fingers crossed), is going to be the final part.

I’m choosing to look on the bright side and I’m telling myself I’m more than halfway done with this.

*sighs in frustrated writer*

This part is a little more MavDad than shippy, but it’s where this wanted to go, so…

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs)

I can’t stop, apparently.

So here we go!

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell had been expecting a normal day when he met her.

Or, well, as normal as a day could get for him.

It was a bright and sunny weekend at the Apple Valley Airshow, where Mav had just flown an aerobatic sequence for the gathered crowds in Bianca, his beloved P-51, and Bradley had not taken much convincing to come out for a day with his dad and the chance to see planes, despite the fact that he was already around them Monday to Friday.

Most aviators were plane nerds after all, and airshows like these were heaven for aviators like him and Bradley.

“You okay back there, Baby Goose?” Mav asked through the comms, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the engine of the P-51.

“Yeah—yeah, I’m fine,” Bradley breathlessly replied from the backseat, his exhale turning into a weak chuckle. “You’re crazy, you know that, right, Dad?”

“Your father and uncles might have mentioned that a few times,” Mav grinned.

He gracefully looped the venerable Mustang around and brought her smoothly onto the runway, mindful of the P-51’s unstrengthened landing gear, gently flaring the aircraft so she caressed the tarmac, unlike the unflared, hard landing he instinctively would have done in any Navy aircraft.

After an uneventful taxi back to the flight line, he pushed the canopy back and climbed out of the cockpit, Bradley a second behind him.

“At least we didn’t have anyone shooting at us this time around,” Mav half-joked, patting his boy on the back, once he’d also jumped down from the wing.

“Thank Heaven for small mercies,” the younger man muttered.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that, Brads.”

Bradley chewed the inside of his cheek, before amusement shone in his eyes, and he cracked a smile. “Okay, yeah, it was pretty cool.”

“She’s still got moves, huh?”

His son looked affectionately at the P-51. “Yeah, she does.

But it’s not the plane, it’s the pilot, isn’t it?”

“I’m willing to share when it’s this girl,” Mav grinned, patting her sun-warm silver fuselage.

After the two of them had stacked their parachutes and harnesses between the landing gear, Mav was busy putting the chocks on the wheels, when he heard a smooth female voice say, “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” Bradley replied.

“Is this the P-51 which flew a few minutes ago?

She is a P-51, right?”

“That’d be a yes to both questions, ma’am.”

A low, rich chuckle. “Are you the owner?”

Bradley scoffed amusedly. “Nah, that’ll be my dad.

Hey Dad, someone wants to talk to you!”

Mav ducked out from beneath the undercarriage and under a propeller, coming face to face with a very unexpected, but not unwelcome sight.

The first thing he noticed about the woman standing before him was her air of extreme competence, which immediately had him wanting to know more about her.

(He was decidedly ignoring the memory of Halo saying he had a competency kink after he’d told some stories from when he was in relationships at a Dagger Squad get together [non-explicit; the Daggers, especially Bradley, didn’t need to hear… intimate details of his life, after all].)

A quick appraisal had him estimating her to be older than Bradley, but younger than him.

She was beautiful, with lips glossed just right, shining, lush hair that he could already imagine running his hand through, a smile he could look at forever, and a figure that ticked all his proverbial boxes, visible even with her long, loose brown cardigan and cream button-down shirt over black jeans.

But what hit him like Mach 10 (and he would know) was the spark in her eyes, keen and intelligent, and they held a warmth and passion that called to him.

“Hi,” he began, extending his hand, ignoring the fact that he was stunned by this woman so he could attempt to be his usual self.

He’d been delighted to show her around Bianca, and he even went so far as to let her sit in the old girl.

Mav had not been expecting what she said about the book she was writing—her granduncle’s story hit home on practically every level possible.

He was absolutely honest with her when he said he wanted to help, but… he’d absolutely be lying if he said he didn’t give it with the hope that she’d call him in the first place.

It’d been years since he’d felt like this about someone, and he tried to stifle a smile as he recalled how they’d collided on Bianca’s wing, his quick reflexes preventing them from falling off the wing with a snapped-out right hand on the cockpit edge, his left instinctually protectively pressing her against him.

He’d never forget the way his heart raced as he realized their proximity, his battle-honed wits prompting him to swiftly move his hand before she could register his touch, though he kept his arm close enough to catch her if she began to slip off the trailing edge.

“What’s with that look, Dad?”

Bradley’s voice brought Mav back to the present, where he sat on his favorite chair in his hangar, Bianca’s flight log book in his right hand, pen in his left. “What look?”

Bradley shut the locker for the safety gear, the last thing on the P-51’s post-flight checklist, and strode over to the couch opposite. “You look sappy.”

“I’m just happy I had a great day flying in my girl, and with my Baby Goose, no less.” It was not a lie at all, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Any other person would have probably bought that excuse, but Bradley was one of the very few people he’d ever met in his life who could read him like a book in every situation, a skill unfortunately inherited from his father. “Uh-huh, sure, I think you’re just thinking about __,” his son incisively replied.

Mav absently bit his lip, “…That obvious, kid?”

“…It’s about as obvious as an F-14 in cloudless sky at 2,000 feet.”

“So, pretty damn obvious,” he squinted speculatively.

“Yeah.

You guys were like something out of a romcom, honestly.

Was that thing on the wing on purpose?” Bradley grinned.

“No, it wasn’t,” he smiled.

“Because you know, if you were any shorter, you might’ve ended up kissing her.”

Mav felt himself turn a little red, but was still amused despite himself. “Shut up.”

Heedless, Bradley continued, “You would have liked that, I’m sure.”

“You’re just as bad as your father,” he sighed.

His gosling’s grin turned sentimental. “Learned it from both of them.”

Bradley had openly called him “Dad” for years before, and again after their reconciliation, but statements like that never failed to warm his heart.

Helpless, Mav stood, and, going over to his son, stooped slightly to place a hand on his shoulder and a kiss at his temple. “Love you, Baby Goose.”

Before he could pull away, Bradley wrapped both arms tightly around him. “Love you too, Dad.

Mav was more than content to let the moment sit, the two of them still making up for almost twenty years of no hugs from the other.

Bradley eventually broke the silence with, “I’ll go heat up that pizza we got from the grocery last night, Dad, how about that?”

He frowned, pulling back, “I can do that, B,—”

“I’ll do it, Dad, you just sit and relax,” Bradley said, already walking towards the Airstream, and just as he was about to step inside the silver trailer, the kid fired off, “Think about your writer!”

Mav spluttered, looking incredulously at the Airstream’s door.

Bradley was really too much like Goose and him, he chuckled silently to himself.

The weekend’s end saw the two of them return to the duplex he and Bradley had bought together last year, sitting about fifteen minutes drive in the Bronco (about half that on the Ninja, at full Mav power) away from TOPGUN, where they were both posted as instructors; Mav himself permanently, Bradley, for a three-year period before his next deployment cycle.

Monday dawned, and he found himself glancing at the screen of his phone every time it dinged, so much so, that said son repeatedly glanced between him and the cellphone laid out on the Officer’s Mess Hall table over lunch.

“What?” Mav asked, confused at the younger man’s consterned expression.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my Dad?

You have not looked away from your phone since we sat down, Mav.

You used to have no idea what TikTok was, and now you look like Hangman after he posts a new photo on Insta, and I would know—God, he was insufferable that time in Sigonella.”

“…I’m guessing Insta is Instagraph?”

Bradley made a noise quite like his callsign. “l—you don’t even—Instagram, Mav, Instagram.

It’s like you’re expecting a call or so—” brown eyes excitedly widened as dots were abruptly connected, “—ohh shit; you gave her your number, didn’t you, your writer?”

Mav rolled his eyes, “She’s not my writer, Brads, but I… I did give her my number just in case she needed more help with—research.”

“Oh, research, sure, Mav; I bet you’d love to help her with her research,” the younger man chortled.

“You sound like your Uncle Slider.”

“Uh-huh—” Bradley brushed off, “we’re getting off topic here, did she say she’d call you or something?”

“No, she didn’t.

I told her to call if she needed me.” He wondered if, instead of being subtle, he should have just out and asked her to call him—or even just asked her out directly; the Maverick of over thirty years ago would have.

His son’s eyes comically widened. “Please, for the love of God, tell me you did not say it like that—that is as bad as you serenading that ex of yours with, of all the songs, “Abracadabra” by The Steve Miller Band.”

“Hey, that’s a good song!” Mav protested.

“It’s also creepy as hell—‘I wanna reach out and grab ya’?

Tell me you hear that?!”

Well, when the lyrics were said like that… “In hindsight, I hear it, no, I did not say it like that, and now who’s getting off topic, Roo?”

“Fine—so you were playing subtle, huh?” Bradley wrinkled his nose, tilting his head from side to side. “Well, we’ll just have to see if the subtle play works, because the Maverick charm was on max power, so you likely made an impression—”

“Thanks, kid?”

“—so I’d say… there’s a sixty-five percent chance she’ll call you,” was the determination.

Mav paused and raised an eyebrow. “Only sixty-five?”

“I’m taking into account the variable that she might not go for… people like you, you know.”

“…No.”

Mav could see both himself and Nick in Bradley’s shit-eating grin. “Old men.”

“An old man, huh?

Well, this is an old man who can still kick the asses of people less than half his age, and you too, Brads, six ways to Sunday, in the air or on the mats.”

A fork promptly got brandished daringly. “I almost had you when we did that demo on the death spiral two weeks ago, Dad, and if you hadn’t slipped my headlock on Wednesday, I’d have gotten you to tap out.”

Mav reached over and affectionately ruffled his son’s brown curls. “Almost only works with grenades, Baby Goose; now eat your shitty mashed potatoes.”

The week ticked by, and after every hop, he tried not to make it too obvious to Bradley, whose locker was right next to his in the Instructor’s Locker Room, that his phone was the first thing he checked.

By Wednesday evening, he was starting to lose what hope he had, and he ignored his son’s sad look as he surreptitiously looked at his phone.

On Thursday evening, Bradley slung an arm around his shoulder as they walked together to the parking lot. “I know I give you shit about being old, Dad, but you’ve still got more than enough charm and looks for women to be attracted to you.

I mean, you should have heard the stuff Phoe and Halo were saying about you during the detachment training—ugh, especially after Dogfight Football.

The thirst was real.”

At his confused look, Bradley continued, “Long story short, they said you were—bleh—hot.

I’m not repeating exactly what they said, even though I can, it’s all seared into my memory, unfortunately,” he finished, shuddering.

Mav laughed, “I’m sorry for the trauma, but, what, uh, brought this train of thought on, Baby Goose?”

He was pressed closer into a Hawaiian shirt-clad side. “I know you’re sad about not getting called by your writer.”

Knowing it was useless to deny it, he shook his head, “I won’t lie and say it doesn’t sting, because I really thought we had a connection, but it’s probably for the best, because I’m… well, you know.”

“No, I don’t,” his son adamantly stated. “Because you’re… kind and loving, with a heart about a billion sizes too big for his body, who gives so much of himself in literally everything—except maybe following orders; any woman would be happy with you.”

Mav reached and gave the vague vicinity of a shoulder a loving pat. “You give me too much credit.”

“No, Dad, you would make someone very happy—I want to see you happy,” Bradley squeezed a Nomex jacketed arm.

“I am happy, kiddo;” he cheerfully stated, “I can fly, I have the rest of the Flyboys, the Daggers, Bianca, and most importantly, I have you, my not-so little boy, who’s become a better man than I could have hoped.”

Bradley halted in his tracks, and tugged him into a hug with a laugh that could have been a sob. “Fuck, Dad, how do you just say shit like that?”

“Like what, that I’m so proud of you?” Mav beamed.

His son’s heatless “Shut up, will you, old man?” sounded suspiciously wobbly, but Mav chose not to remark on it, and hugged back before they continued walking after a moment.

“But back to my point,” the younger man pointed, “unless there’s something you’re not telling me about your relationship with Bianca, she doesn’t count as a woman in your life.

I know you have me, the Daggers, and the Flyboys, but it’s different from being in love and getting that love back.” Bradley suddenly snapped his fingers, “I know, I should start you a dating app profile!”

“Oh no, I’ve heard horror stories about dating apps, and I’m not desperate, Baby Goose.”

Bradley threw both hands up, “It’s not about desperation, Hangman has—okay, that’s not a good example—but you know, you need to put yourself out there more.

Meet someone.

Come on, Dad, please?”

The kid looked so hopeful, he couldn’t outright say no. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!

It’s not a no, I’ll take it.

I’ll look through the photos at the hangar tomorrow night—we gotta pick the right one—that can make or break things!

Maybe one of you in the dress whites or blues—or hey, ladies love the flight suit, and it’ll be even better if you’re in front of your F-18…”

At Bradley’s musing, Mav had a smile on his face all the way to his Kawasaki, and the whole way home, trailing in the Bronco’s wake.

After work early Friday evening, both men began the preparations for their weekly getaway to the hangar, packing their respective bags with whatever they deemed necessary for a two-day stay in the Mojave.

Mav was busying himself with checking his duffel before he hopped in the shower, when he heard clattering from his kitchen, and immediately, a dismayed “Damn it!” rang through the house.

“You okay, kiddo?” he called out.

“Yeah, I just—we’re out of Doritos!”

As amusing as it sounded, that did constitute a little bit of an emergency—the triangular chips were Bradley’s go-to snack, ever since he was a child, and he’d be bemoaning the lack of them the whole two days at the hangar if they really were out. “Did you check your kitchen?”

“I looked there first—we can’t leave without Doritos, Dad!”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “You still have time to go grab some if you want, I still have to take a shower, Brads,” he offered.

“Good idea, I’ll just go to the store and grab some, be right back!”

“Okay, drive safe!”

“Always!”

Mav waited to hear his front door shut before turning for his bathroom and starting the shower, tossing his shirt in the hamper on the way.

A few minutes later, he’d just begun to rinse off when he heard a faint noise from downstairs; his phone was ringing, he realized.

He initially paid it no mind—he’d been getting scam calls the last few days, which always ended up disappointing him—but then… it kept ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

Hope suddenly bloomed in his chest, and he hurried to get out of the shower.

He nearly faceplanted on his own bathroom floor in his haste, stumbling when his lunge for his towel missed, but he was able to keep himself upright and the second attempt had the fabric in his hand, then around his waist.

Mav dashed out the bathroom and down the stairs, tapping the green “accept call” button.

“Pete Mitchell,” he spoke into his phone, trying not to sound like he’d just run a marathon while his chest heaved.

A slight pause later, a hesitant “Hi,” came over the phone, and his heart leapt. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at the Apple Valley Airshow—”

She had to be joking if she thought she was that easily forgettable. “__, right?

The writer,” he replied, pushing the dripping strands of his hair out of his face.

“Yeah, that’s me, you said I could call if I had any questions.”

“Uh-huh.

I’m guessing you have one,” he smiled.

The following invite to the hangar was twofold; he’d be able to help her without the hassle of dealing with emails or something like that, and he’d be able to gauge if she was actually interested in him.

He remembered the way she’d slightly frozen, when he stepped out from under Bianca, how she’d glanced at his hand when he’d extended it for a handshake.

But he’d been wrong about a great many things before, and he didn’t want to immediately assume she was interested, because everyone knew what the first three letters of assume were, and for all he knew, she really just needed help.

Regardless, he smiled while they bantered as easily as breathing; it was invigorating, and… maybe a little bit of a turn-on, if he was honest.

(Maybe Halo was right.)

Shortly after they said goodbye, Mav sent the address of the hangar with a “How does 3:30 sound to you?” to her number, and three beats after it registered delivered, a “That’s perfect—see you tomorrow 😊” message came in, which had him sigh like a teenager as he leaned against the counter for a moment, before he pushed off to get dressed.

By the time Bradley came back with four grocery bags full of Doritos, from two different groceries, Mav was already dressed in his usual t-shirt and jeans, ready to go. “You got enough Doritos there, Baby Goose?” he gawked at the sheer amount of chips.

“I’m restocking us, Dad, it’s not all for the weekend,” the younger man replied, emptying one grocery bag and a half into Mav’s snack cabinet. “I just need to put another bag and this half at mine, and the rest I’m taking.”

He bit down on his laughter and watched as his son dashed next door to stock his own snack cabinet, before returning in time to catch him staring at the “That’s perfect—see you tomorrow 😊” message on his phone.

“You’re looking sappy again,” Bradley squinted suspiciously at him. “It’s almost like you got a call from your writer.”

Mav tried to keep his face neutral, but as always, it was pointless with his gosling.

The kid’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, she did call you, didn’t she?!

Fuck, you still got it, Dad.”

He waved off, “There’s no guarantee she actually is interested in me like that, and she called me because she needs my help.”

“Oh, your help, of course,” Bradley grinned. “Well?

What’s the profile?”

Mav rolled his eyes. “She wrote a dogfight scene she can’t cut, and she wants to make sure the tactics are sound.

So I invited her to the hangar tomorrow so we don’t have to do any emails and stuff.”

The younger man whistled, impressed. “That was smooth as hell, Dad.

You have an idea of when she’s coming over?”

“1530ish.”

Bradley planted his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Well, that’s a good amount of time, but we’ll still have some work to do.”

“Work—what are you planning, Baby Goose?”

“We have to make the hangar a little neater than usual—make you seem like a responsible adult,” his son replied, as if it were the most obvious thing.

Mav burst into laughter while picking up his duffel. “If your father, your uncles, and nearly forty years in the Navy couldn’t do that, what makes you think spiffing up the hangar could?”

“Worth a shot, you never know—she might be fooled,” Bradley muttered, locking Mav’s front door behind them both.

“I heard that!”

When the afternoon set over the hangar the next day, now the neatest it’d been in a long time (admittedly, it wasn’t that bad, Mav just had a particular system, which didn’t much look like one in the first place), Bradley clapped his hands, “Now, I’m going to head into town, Dad.”

“What for?”

“Dad, your writer is coming in about ten minutes, and the last thing you need is me cramping your style, so I’m going to head into town, I’ll be back at around… let’s call it 2345–please don’t be naked when I come back—”

“Bradley!” Mav exclaimed, a little bit scandalized, though they were both hardly virginal.

“—and, and, prior notice of if I shouldn’t come back would be greatly appreciated.”

“Bradley!”

“What?

I’m just covering the bases.”

“There’s no bases to cover here, I’m just going to review her scene,” he replied.

“Annnd?” the younger man deadpanned.

“And then… we’ll see what happens.

But all I know is I’m not about to—whatever you’re thinking is going to happen.” Mav sighed, picking up a screwdriver that had fallen off the maintenance cart next to Bianca, and placed it back in the toolbox. “And I don’t… this probably isn’t going to go anywhere, because—I’m pushing sixty, kiddo, and really… I don’t think I have casual—anything—left in me anymore.”

Bradley slowly nodded, a proud look on his face. “Good for you, Dad.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, nodding, mustache quirking up. “I’m happy you know what you want.

But you gotta be more optimistic than this, because who knows, this could lead to your more-than casual something.” Bradley slapped him on the arm, “Come on, where’s the ‘I’m going anyway’ Maverick Mitchell who proved he could fly a suicide mission on a crazy profile, with fifteen seconds to spare?”

Mav scoffed self-deprecatingly, “Doing crazy pilot shit; that makes sense to me, Baby Goose, but… relationships—I’ve always FUBAR-ed them.

Oh God, I don’t actually know what I was thinking, giving her my number—this was a mistake,” he muttered, thoughts beginning to spiral as his breathing picked up.

Bradley grabbed both his arms, squeezing them to ground him. “Hey—hey, Dad, look at me—look at me.

Take a breath.

You did not make a mistake, you made a connection with someone, you offered to help them, and she took you up on the offer.

At the least, you help someone in need, and you come out the other side with a friend; if everything goes well, maybe you get more than friendship.

But like you said, you’re just checking the scene she’s having trouble with, like she asked.

Don’t put pressure on yourself—just see what happens.

You got this, Dad.”

“I got this,” Mav murmured, partly confirming his son’s statement, partly reassuring himself, and partly asking if he did, indeed “got” it.

“You got this; come here.” Bradley pulled him into a tight hug, one to which Mav clung, while he got ahold of himself.

When he pulled back from his son’s embrace and repeated “I got this,” a minute or so later, it was still slightly shaky, but held some of the classic Maverick confidence.

“That’s the spirit.” The younger man checked his watch, wincing. “I don’t want to cramp your style, and I’m cutting it close, but I don’t want to leave you if you’re going to spiral again.

You good, Dad?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” Bradley frowned.

“Yeah, I’ll just check on Bianca a little while I’m waiting.”

His son exhaled heavily. “You do that, alright?

Don’t get in your head—don’t think, just do, remember?”

“I remember,” Mav smirked.

“Okay.

I’m gonna go now.” Bradley cautiously backed out of the hangar, as if ready to pull him into another hug if he showed the slightest tell of another mental spiral. “Call me if I shouldn’t come back, and remember, 2345!

Please don’t be naked!!”

“Go!!” Mav chuckled, feeling mostly like himself again, if not slightly nervous.

“Love you!”

“Love you more, kiddo!”

Soon, the sound of the Bronco’s engine rumbled through the dry air before it faded, leaving the air still and silent except for the distant sounds of the Mojave.

Before his and Bradley’s reconciliation, he was used to the stillness and silence, a consequence of choosing to make the hangar his home a few years ago, upon his assignment as a test pilot at NAWS China Lake, despite the long commute; he’d never liked base housing, and avoided it like the plague.

He’d even found the stillness and quiet comforting in a sadistic way, thought it was maybe something he deserved in cynical moments.

But now, the hangar which Hondo had once referred to as his “Fortress of Solitude”, was a place of life, love, and joy, the old silence and stillness now the strange one.

Before he could think too much about his relationship with silence, he went to Bianca and started some busywork with her engine, allowing his mind to get lost—and more importantly, his body to relax—in the process.

He’d gotten so absorbed in his beloved plane’s maintenance that he almost missed the sound of an unfamiliar car pulling up to the hangar.

Immediately, his heart started racing again, but he’d accepted that for better or worse, this whole thing was going to play out as it would; if that involved him fucking something up, he just prayed he could fix it.

Moment of truth; the car door opened.

“Ghostrider, up and ready,” he muttered to himself.

“Hello?” she uncertainly called.

“In here,” he replied.

Mav swallowed thickly upon seeing her; he liked to think he had a decent memory, but his memory did no justice to her.

The desert afternoon light streaming in through the open hangar door haloed her in an otherworldly way, only making her even more beautiful to him, the breeze blowing her hair around and billowing her loose blouse.

His eyes were drawn to the little smile at the corner of her lips, and it was only because he’d been looking there, that he realized she was speaking.

“Hey, glad you could make it,” he brightly said, hoping that that wasn’t too out of left field from what she’d said, because he’d completely missed it.

Her smile widened, “Not going to miss it—for all I know, this is a one time opportunity.”

The replies that immediately came to mind sounded creepy, stupid, or worse, so he settled for, “Who said it was?”

She chuckled, lighting up her already sparkling gaze, biting her lip briefly before looking around the hangar, her eyes soon landing on Bianca. “Great place you’ve got here; must’ve been hard to get, though, with it being Navy land.”

“Not that hard when you’re got friends in high places.” Mav recalled the moment Ice and the Flyboys gave him the title to the hangar for his fortieth birthday, which they were celebrating along with his promotion to Commander.

She tilted her head slightly, and he realized that she probably heard the somber tone in his voice—remembering Ice was still hard, but it was getting better.

“Anyway, uh,” he clapped his hands, pushing forward, “you had a scene that needs checking?”

She blinked as if clearing her head, and raised the leather messenger bag on her shoulder. “I have my laptop right here.”

Mav gestured to his couch, and as they moved towards it, he prayed that he wouldn’t somehow make a fool of himself today.

To be continued…

Previous Part Next Part

Because the P-51 was an Air Force aircraft, her landing gear was not designed for hard, unflared Navy-style landings, which are flown in that manner for carrier operations.

However, even if naval aviators land on a full-length runway, carrier habits die hard, and if you watch planespotting streams, such as my favorite, L.A FLIGHTS, you can make reasonable guesses as to who was former Navy, as the landings will tend to have a shallower flare at landing.

Chocks

The Apple Valley Airshow takes place every year in the town of Apple Valley, located in San Bernardino, California.

(I considered setting this story at the annual Miramar Airshow, which takes place at MCAS (formerly NAS) Miramar, but I imagine that Mav would probably want to avoid going to MCAS Miramar for obvious reasons.)

The trailing edge of a wing is its back edge, the edge closer to the tail—its opposite is the leading edge, the edge closer to the nose.

The chair I write as Mav’s favorite chair is the one he sits down in in the opening scene of TG:M.

As Mav is a Maverick in most aspects of his life, I thought it was perfect for Mav to be left-handed—and as Tom himself is left-handed, it couldn’t get more perfect.

The F-14 is notable as being quite large as fighter jets go, and she is practically impossible to miss in the sky, once within visual range; and she is sometimes called the Flying Tennis Court, a nickname she shares with the McDonnell Douglas/Boeing F-15 Eagle.

Bradley and Mav living in what is essentially the same house, having bought a duplex together, is something I can see them doing after they reconcile, because to me, these two are basically orange cats with separation anxiety, and I feel like they would be the epitome of healthy codependency, if that’s possible.

Mav power is a play on words/reference to the engine throttle conditions of fighter jets; Max power is the maximum engine power with afterburner (wet power), and MIL (which stands for Military) power is the maximum engine power without afterburner (dry power)

Do not quote me on this, but as I understand it, in the Navy, you don’t deploy all the time.

There are years you are given a land-based assignment, like Bradley being assigned to TOPGUN, before you are put back on ship deployments for a similar amount of years.

TL;DR: Deployment cycles in the Navy have you rotating between ship-based assignments and land-based assignments every few years.

NAS Sigonella

“Abracadabra” by The Steve Miller Band

I chose this song because of this piece of art by @woodsywarbler, and “Abracadabra” is my favorite song by The Steve Miller Band, despite the really creepy lyrics.

A death spiral is this little bit of crazy pilot shit, as shown in TG:M. (Timestamp 7:34)

Nomex is the flame-resistant material which flight suits are made of, and it’s also what Mav’s green jacket is made of.

Doritos came out in 1964, plenty of time for Bradley, ‘80s baby that he is, to develop a yen for them.

(Flight) Profile: a graphical timeline of the operational characteristics, configurations, and speeds of an aircraft along a flight path in a specific phase of flight or maneuver.

FUBAR: Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition (or Repair, people argue which word the last letter is)

Fortress of Solitude

Ghostrider was Mav and Merlin’s operational callsign during the Layton Mission, and again, do not quote me on this, but you get to keep the operational callsigns you received during notable missions, a detail alluded to in the TG:M screenplay, so Mav uses it here to psych himself up.

Taglist

@ohtobemare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[gabessquishytum]

Hob likes food okay, he thinks cooking is a act of love, so when he's tapped by HFGTV for his own food show, he knows he's going to do it his own way. His show is sort of Guy Fieri-ish -- Hob will happily eat your burger made of 5 cheeses; that corn dip that was a hit at your town's most recent potluck,,, if it's made with love and care... Hob will happily chow down. He gets to travel and speak (and cook) with normal people who love it as much as he does.

Dream is a Michelin Starred chef; with famous, but popular, restaurants with aggressive wait lists. Food is art and craft; and while he still loves cooking (not that he has time to eat any of it) he finds himself bored of his function.

Dream and Hob bump into each other at an industry event:

M (dripping with distainful disbelief): You're that chef that happily eats oreos dipped in marshmallow fluff, covered in chocolate and deep fried?!

H: 😍 I love your food! You watch my show?!?!!! Wanna go a a date with me, snobby Mc'beautiful man?!

Dream hates himself, a little, that he finds the heathen charming.

This is the cutest thing I've ever seen. I'm MELTING.

So maybe Dream is only in Hob’s part of town for the weekend, just for this event. So Hob persuades him - he'll take Dream for a tour around his favourite food spots. They'll have fun, eat, and maybe Dream will find his love for food again. Maybe they'll also do a little smoochin'. Dream rolls his eyes so hard they nearly fall out BUT he agrees.

It's late morning when they start out so Hob drags Dream for brunch at his favourite little hole in the wall cafe. They do a fusion breakfast menu with traditional British stuff plus breakfast foods from all different regions of India, and you can pick and choose whatever you want to eat. Hob knows all the staff and ends up dragging Dream into the kitchen to chat/try little mouthfuls of food. By the time they sit down to eat Dream has a tiny smile on his face (although he seriously objects to how much ketchup Hob is putting on his plate).

After brunch they walk around a bit and go get boba at Hob’s favourite place because he's scandalised that Dream has never tried it?! Hob also can't help but talk about how much he loves Dream’s food and how he'd eat at his restaurant every single day if he could. Dream can't believe that someone would care so much about his food, but he's very charmed. He even says he'll cook for Hob some time.

Next stop is to get freshly baked gingerbread from a tiny food truck. Hob spends the whole time trying to wheedle the secret recipe out of the owner while Dream is like "don't tell him, he obviously can't keep a secret to save his life." They're basically already an old married couple and they get the gingerbread for free.

At this point Dream needs to lie down because he hasn't eaten so much food in forever, so Hob offers to take him back to his flat and they can drink tea and just talk about food. Dream ends up falling asleep on Hob’s shoulder and when he wakes up, Hob has ordered pizza. Its cheesy and greasy and a little bit terrible, but there's something about it that reminds Dream why he became a chef in the first place.

They end up making out on the sofa for a few hours until Hob pulls away with this face like he just had the best idea. "We need to do a show together. Where we do what we did today and I seduce you with good, honest food."

And although Dream wrinkles up his nose like he hates the thought... he's the one calling up the studio in the morning and demanding to be allowed to pitch the show 😉

[cumaeansibyl]

okay this is my biggest conspiracy theory except it's not really a Conspiracy Theory because I am not actually positing a shadowy prime mover who planned the whole thing from the start. that always ends up in wildly antisemitic places where I do not go, and also I don't think anyone in history has had their shit together enough to mastermind Schemes of this type. my theories are always more like "this happened serendipitously and at some point maybe someone noticed and took advantage but there's certainly no central figure in charge."

so we start with the normalization of overwork in our society, since roughly forever. in modern times this led to abuse of medical and recreational stimulants -- everyone was on speed in the 50s and coke in the 80s -- but we all kind of figured out that was a bad idea, for the most part. what we still had after the white powder settled, though, was caffeine. totally legal, totally normalized.

but people were still overworked, and they also still wanted to have energy after work, to do fun things with the little free time left to them.

enter energy drinks.

unlike coffee, which still has the feeling of a daytime beverage and also to some extent a workplace beverage, energy drinks are an anytime food! you can even get them in mixed drinks for a night out. they're for work AND play. they come in a wide range of dose strengths, including a shooter for when you're in really dire straits. after all, taking caffeine pills feels like "pill-popping," but having a little beverage is fine, right?

at the same time, there is increasing interest in remedies for a variety of unspecific ailments caused by "toxins," the new buzzword in a very old industry of patent nostrums and dubious cure-alls. the theory is that some sort of unspecified substance has entered your body, and in order to feel well again you need to detox and cleanse -- which in practice involves a lot of induced defecation. And this is supposed to be good for feelings of fatigue, muscle soreness, anxiety, stomach upset, and difficulty sleeping.

See where I'm going with this?

The "toxins" that make you feel terrible all the time are caffeine. Not heavy metals, or refined sugar, or vaccines, or yeast. It's just fucking caffeine.

Well, caffeine and chronic overwork/sleep deprivation, which is not entirely a direct result of the caffeine but is certainly enabled/exacerbated by it. Everyone is working too much and taking stimulants to get through the day and in fact experiencing mild overdose symptoms on a fairly regular basis (irritable? jittery? that's caffeine toxicity) and it's no wonder we all feel like shit.

And then! When you come home from your day of pushing your mind and body too hard! It is ALSO normalized to take downers to level out! Alcohol is also a toxin, and it takes a lot less of it to start doing systemic damage than most people realize. When you wake up in the morning feeling foggy and achy, it may not be enough to register as a proper hangover, but it's almost certainly the combined effect of alcohol and caffeine withdrawal. Both mild! Both nearly harmless and easily recovered from! If you're not doing it on a regular basis and if you're getting enough rest, which you're not, as we previously established.

It's the chronicity that's the issue, the neverending grind of it all. You can't recover from chronic sleep deprivation or overwork with an extra few hours of rest on the weekends. You can't recover from long-term chemical dependence with a 24-hour tolerance break. If you're a wage earner in late-stage capitalism your options for reversing the damage are pretty limited and they all look like deprivation: prioritizing an unbroken 8-9 hours of sleep per night may well mean giving up most if not all of your social life and leisure activities. Fuck that.

And to be clear, I don't consider choosing to stay out late with a vodka Red Bull to be a personal failure of any kind, just like I don't think poor people should never buy themselves anything nice. If work keeps trying to take more and more of your time, you gotta carve out time for yourself somewhere. But... y'all know me. I want people to know the risks.

I think a lot of people don't realize that their bodies are under this much strain. They don't know that we are better suited for a 4-6 hour work day, that 6-7 hours of sleep is genuinely not enough for most people, that as little as 2 cups of coffee might be enough to put them over the recommended maximum caffeine intake. They don't know that they're drinking enough alcohol to cause health problems.

If you know and you decide to do it anyway that's fine, it's your right. I do inadvisable shit all the time. But people don't know, they're not being told, because they can't be allowed to question the material conditions they're being forced to endure -- and then they're being sold a bunch of useless or even harmful bullshit to "cure" the inevitable consequences of those conditions.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 6 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your parents invite Mr. Jeon over to dinner without your knowledge and spring a proposal on you that you're not given a chance to refuse Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 4.1k~ Warnings: Explicit Language and a lot of teasing a/n: A longer chapter as promised 😅 Hope you guys are looking forward to the next one 🤭 p.s. barely edited so have mercy on me lmao Start from the beginning

"Hey" my mom says, popping her head in my room. "Yeah?" I respond, thumbing through the most recent book Jungkook gave me. "Dinner is almost ready so can you come downstairs in a bit?" she questions and I look up at her as if she's grown two heads. 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I question, extremely suspicious of her motives. "What do you mean? I'm your mother" she chuckles, walking towards where I'm laying on my bed, brushing back the hair that had fallen in my face. 

"Usually you use that as an excuse to discipline me or whatever so what's really going on?" I question, sitting up from my reclined position and straightening out my clothes. 

"I was going to wait for James to tell you but there's a charity ball next weekend and we wanted you to attend it with us" she says, smiling at the idea of having a united front with all three of us together. 

"A charity ball? What charity?" I prod further while cocking a brow at her. Wanting to figure out exactly why there needs to be an event when they can just not have an event and give all the money to the charity. 

I swear, I'll never understand rich people. 

"I don't know honey that's something for your father to worry about" she says not giving a care in the world to what I thought was a very valid question. "Step father" I correct her. 

No matter how hard she tries, no one is going to take my father's place.

"Step father" she echos as if she's tired of me already "Either way, it'll be good to get your face out in public with us. Who knows, you might be able to make some good connections along the way" she finishes as she walks out the door, paying no mind to if I would like to continue the conversation or not.

"Oh and we've invited Mr. Jeon to dinner tonight so he'll be arriving shortly" she calls out over her shoulder. 

'Mr. Jeon is coming okay whatever' I think to myself before blinking a few times and finally processing what she said. "Mr. Jeon is having dinner with us? Why?" I say rushing out of my room to catch her before she's gotten too far. 

"Well after he dropped you off the other night I realized that James and I haven't really had a chance to speak to him yet so a family dinner seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so. Is there a problem with that?" she questions, noticing my body language. 

"Nope. No problem at all" I choke out, mad that she didn't give me any sort of warning or better yet, asked if I was comfortable with it. "Great, we told him to come around 6:30 so try to be down before he gets here" she says and continues on her descent down the stairs and out of my sight.

"Shit" I say to myself and run back into my room and check my phone where it reads six o'clock on the dot. 

Looking down at the clothes I'm wearing I realize I'm donning an oversized sweatshirt and some baggy sweats with my hair in a sad excuse for a ponytail and run into my bathroom to do something with my hair as quickly as I can.

After doing that and throwing on some mascara and chapstick I dig through my closet and find a nice off the shoulder sweater and some jeans and throw them on as quickly as I can and pair it with a set of converse hoping that it'll suffice. 

I know for a fact that he's gonna show up in something ridiculous like a suit of some sort but I can't be bothered to do much more than this. Thanks to my mother I wasn't even given the opportunity to choose otherwise. 

"Y/n Mr. Jeon's pulling up right now" I hear my mom call out for me. I roll my eyes before responding. "Be right there" I yell out, checking myself out one last time before heading down where I see my mom is already greeting him in the doorway. 

As I observe their exchange I watch as Jungkook's eyes flicker over in my direction but once he actually sees me he makes eye contact after dragging his eyes up and down my figure, making me lose my footing for a second but not enough for him to notice. Or so I thought as he meets me with a knowing smile while my mother has her head turned the other way. 

I roll my eyes at him and finish my path down the steps without falter and end up a few feet in front of him where my mom still spouts off a ridiculous excuse for small talk all while Jungkook has barely taken his eyes off me.

"Thank you for inviting me Mrs. Hart" Jungkook says and she quickly dismisses the formalities requesting he call her Lily instead before she excuses herself so she can grab a vase for the flowers I'm just now noticing he had given her. 

"Y/n would you mind taking him to the sitting room? Dinner should be ready soon" she finishes and leaves Jungkook and I still standing by the front door. 

"For you" he says pulling out a single white rose from behind his back. "Oh, it's beautiful" I say, reaching out to take it from him, accidentally grabbing his hand instead of the flower and look up at him with the intension to apologize but my words are caught in my throat when I meet his eyes. 

His damn eyes that see right though me yet beg to learn more. His eyes that leave my skin crawling but craves his touch no matter how light it might be. His eyes that tell me everything and nothing all at once. 

"You're welcome Pretty" he whispers as though it was a secret never to be told to any soul other than our own.

"I- what?" I stammer, caught off guard by his compliment, eyes wide in shock which only earns me a slight upturn of his lips before he turns to face towards the direction my mother had disappeared to.  

"Shouldn't we be heading to the sitting room like your mother requested?" he says slipping his hand out of my grasp. 

I clear my throat before wordlessly walking towards said room, worried that I might betray myself otherwise. 

"You have a lovely home" he says once I motion towards a place for him to sit once we arrive in said room. "Thank you. James and my mother bought it soon after they got married so we've lived here ever since" I respond, making an effort to keep the conversation going. 

"Would you mind if I asked how long ago that was?" he questions, opting to do the same. "It was about four years ago, around the time I was graduating. They had been dating for a few years and I guess they decided that they were serious enough about each other to get married" I say just scratching the surface as to how everything went down between them. 

"Are you fond of your step father?" he asks, apparently interested in getting to know more about me. "I like him more than I like my own mother most days if I'm being honest. He's a really great guy and my mom seems happy so that's all I could really ask for" I say shrugging my shoulders, not really having too strong of an opinion on it. 

He nods his head, almost reflecting on the answer and I fear that I've made him feel awkward by my response so I nervously slip in a question of my own. "Do you have family close by?" I question since now that I think about it we really haven't had too much time to get to know the most basic things about each other. 

"Unfortunately no. My parents and brother live in Korea still and so it's just Bam and I" he says with a sad smile. "Bam?" I question, "Yeah my dog. He's a Doberman that thinks he's a lap dog at times and at other's he's ready to defend me against the smallest of things" he says with a soft smile reminiscing about the fond memories they've made together. 

"How old is he?" I question, seeing that he clearly loves talking about him. "He'll be turning two in December" he says scrunching his brows together for a second as he tries to get it right. "Aw he's still just a baby. Why haven't I seen him before?" I question since I feel like I would've noticed a big puppy like him wandering around the place. 

"I take him to his trainers while I'm working and then pick him up once we've concluded our lessons" he replies. "So that's the business meeting you spoke about when my mother tried to invite you to dinner the other night then" I say clearly catching him in a lie from seeing his reaction. 

"Yes, it was" he says, deciding to admit it to set a good example for me instead of breaking the promise we made. "Is that why you force me into letting you give me a ride home most days?" I prod further, wanting to get answers out of him while I still can. 

"That, amongst other things..." he trails off with a smile and before I'm even able to think about what the fuck he means by that my mother comes in letting us know that dinner is ready. 

"Thank you so much for joining us on such late notice Mr. Jeon" James says, reaching out to shake Jungkook's hand before we all sit down. Jungkook sitting across from me with my mother and James on either end of the table. 

"Thank you for your generous invitation. You have a very lovely home" he compliments while turning his attention back to my mother for a second, inferring that she was probably the designer from the feminine touches throughout it all. 

"Lily really prides herself in creating a soft and peaceful atmosphere and I can't help but adore everything she's done to the place" James says while gazing over at my mother with a soft smile. Anyone can see that he really loves her and although her and I butt heads I'm happy she ended up with someone like him. 

"I feel as though you've definitely achieved your goal then, wouldn't you say y/n?" Jungkook says, catching me off guard by bringing me into the conversation.

"Oh, um yes I think you've done a wonderful job mother" I say smiling at her momentarily before looking back over at Jungkook, giving him a look as a way to question his motives but he only gives me a pleasant smile in return. 

The night goes on almost painlessly with each of us engaging in what Jungkook would phrase it as 'Stimulating Conversations' and even gets a few smiles and laughs out of me. It feels as if I'm seeing him in a new light tonight. 

Not merely as teacher and student, but as some what of a friend. One that I'm starting to realize has had nothing but my best interest at heart. Sure some of his methods might seem unorthodox but I know now that he means well, he just has an interesting way of showing it. 

"Would that be alright with you y/n?" I hear James call out, making me realize I had not only been thinking about Jungkook but also staring right at him and losing track of the conversation. 

"I'm sorry what was that?" I say quickly, tearing my eyes off of Jungkook and over at James, hoping to hide that I was staring at Jungkook but also avoiding his ever knowing gaze. 

"I just asked Jungkook if he would escort you to the charity ball we had mentioned earlier. That way you have a familiar face around" he says, widening my eyes at the suggestion and flitter them between Jungkook and James for a moment before trying to deny the offer. 

"I couldn't possibly ask him to do that. I'm sure he has other matters to attend to or someone else he might have in mind to go with" I babble, trying to offer him a way out of this but my mother clears her throat as a warning to not try to push it anymore and to just accept what James thinks would be best for me. 

"It's fine y/n, I assure you. I would be more than happy to help guide you. It's important for you to make a good impression no?" he says, nudging his foot against mine. Leaving me jolting at the sudden contact. "R-right" I stutter, taking a sip of water to cover up my reaction. 

He just loves getting his way doesn't he? I swear, if we weren't being watched I would've stomped on his foot but instead I pull my feet back towards myself, leaving them out of reach and luckily they take our exchange as an agreement to the posed idea.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you? You just seem so mature but look so young that I just can't seem to pinpoint what your age might be" my mother asks him while taking a sip of her wine. I swear if she's tipsy and about to start flirting with him right in front of James I'm gonna puke. 

"I turned 27 last September, I do tend to get that a lot. I guess it's just one of the many blessings my parents have bestowed on me" he says lightheartedly but I can tell he's clearly eating up the compliments as a way to tease me. 

"Do your parents live close by? I feel like I would've seen them by now at one of the events over the years but I can't seem to recall a Mr. or Mrs. Jeon" James ponders, turning Jungkook's attention back over to him. 

"Oh they're back in Busan, my home town in South Korea. I figured it would be too big of an adjustment for them to move here so I make sure to go visit them when my schedule allows it" he says giving a concise answer. 

"Oh I've heard that Busan is a beautiful place to live. It's by the coast if memory serves me right" my mother jumps in, making me take interest in the conversation, still wanting to know more about him. 

"Yes that's correct, although I only lived there until I was about eighteen when I got accepted into Seoul National University and in turn moved to Seoul" he informs and James asks more and more questions, fascinated in what the upperclass might call a "self made man journey". 

~~~~~~

As the night wraps up and the dessert is long gone I can see that my mother is ready to head to bed, hopefully before making an absolute fool of herself after all the wine she's consumed. 

"It was lovely meeting you Jungkook" my mother lightly slurs and James soon comes to her aid to say goodbye as well and I take that as an opportunity to slip out to get some air.

Making my way to the courtyard at the back of the house I take in the sight of the few stars that I can manage to make out, all these city lights stopping them from shining as bight.

"It's a shame isn't it?" I hear Jungkook's voice say from behind me, making me jolt in surprise. "You scared me" I say after glancing back at him. "I apologize, I didn't mean to" he say while taking a few strides towards me. 

"Likely story" I mumble under my breath and he chuckles at my reaction. "Okay maybe I did a little bit, but it's only because I enjoy watching your reactions" he says smugly once he's standing next to me. 

"Where's James?" I question, glancing over at him before turning my attention back to the sky. "Taking your mother to bed. Seems like she's had one too many" I nod my head in acknowledgment and he surprisingly takes it as an answer, refraining from asking questions, seeing my slight discomfort on the topic. 

"What's a shame?" I question, making him tilt his head in confusion. "You said earlier 'It's a shame'. What were you referring to?" I remind him. "It's a shame you can't see many stars from here. The city lights tend to shine so bright that you can never truly see how brilliant they are" he smiles before answering. 

"I don't think I've ever actually seen that many stars. I think the closest thing was when I was on a road trip with my mom and dad. I was too young though so I hardly remember it. I miss it though" I end, clearing my throat and pushing away any emotions that had stirred up from that last statement. 

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that" I say rubbing one of my bicep and shrinking back into myself so to say. 

"You have nothing you need to apologize for y/n" he responds, leaving a beat of silence before filling it up again. 

"I used to go stargazing with my father too" he starts, making me make eye contact with him for a second. "We used to drive all the way out to the edge of town where it was away from all the big buildings and bring a big blanket to lay on and we would just look up at the stars for what felt like hours" he smiles fondly, turning his focus back towards the heavens. 

"I remember my mother scolding my father once for keeping me out too late, worried that I might've caught a cold. My father swore up and down that we both had dressed warm enough but by morning we both woke up sick as dogs" he chuckles, making me smile. 

"She continued to scold him all day and all night but even through all of that, she was still there, nursing us back to health" he finishes. 

"She sounds lovely" respond truthfully "She is" he whispers with a sad smile, and from that alone I can tell how much he misses home. "She can be quite intimidating when she wants to be though" he laughs. 

"Oh really? Is that who you get it from?" I say, poking fun at him. "Get what?" he asks turning to face me and I mirror him, meeting his mischievous gaze. 

"Your intimidation tactics you try to use on me" I say and he cocks an eyebrow at me. 

"Try? I'm pretty sure I'm rather successful most days don't you think?" he questions taking a few steps towards me, leaving me taking a few steps back. 

"Key word is most though, they don't always work" I say, walking backwards not paying mind to anything but keeping a distance between us. 

"Really?" he says with a knowing smile, glancing behind me. As I open my mouth to respond I lose my footing and step off the patio flooring and onto the grass but before I fall Jungkook grabs my wrist and pulls me flush against his chest. 

"Because they seem to be working right now. Seeing as you're trying to run away from me" he teases, tilting his head at me. 

I push against his chest lightly and he loosens his grasp on me to barely give me room to breathe. "I wasn't running" I say, placing my hands on top of his and prying them off of me. With him letting go with little to no resistance, allowing me to step aside and walk past him. 

"Then what were you doing?" he says grabbing my wrist before I get to far. As I try to respond I see a light turn on in my parents bedroom and pull Jungkook over to hide behind one of the pillars, hiding incase one of them were to look outside. 

I watch for a few moments, holding my breath as I see shadows form in the light cast across the lawn, feeling my heart race until the light turns off, signaling that they've hopefully turned in for the night. 

I let out that breath and jump at the sound of an amused scoff, having forgotten that he was still with me. 

"What was it you were doing Miss y/n" he says in a hushed tone and when I turn to face him I realize I have my back against the pillar with a strong grip on his wrist, in turn having pulled him closer in an effort to hide. 

I take in the distance between us which at this point is mere centimeters and lose my words watching as the city lights reflect in his eyes. 

"I was maintaining personal space" I say after having regained the slightest bit of clarity which dissipates when he leans his forearm against the pillar above my head and leans in closer. 

"And what pray tell are you doing now?" he asks in my ear and I can almost feel how much he's enjoying this, leaving me without the strength to come up with a reply. 

"Hmm? Cat got you tongue?" he says, placing his hand on my waist and barely ghosting his lips against my skin. 

He waits there for a beat, giving me a chance to respond but when I don't he decides to fill up that space. "I had fun tonight. Invite me over again sometime?" he questions, squeezing my waist a bit making me let out a quite okay and he smiles against my skin before pushing himself off of me and turning to walk back inside. 

I stammer trying to say something but decide to just follow behind him.

"Let me get your coat and I'll walk you out" I say, knowing where we keep them when guest come and quickly catch up to where he stands at the front door and handing it to him. He decides to drape it over his arm in place of putting it on since his car is parked right out front. 

He opens the door and lets me out first before following after and closing it behind us to keep the crisp night air from getting into the warm house.

"Thank you, um thank you for coming tonight. I wasn't really in on this plan so I'm sorry if the invitation inconvenienced you at all" I explain while following him to the drivers side of the car. 

"I had a free spot open tonight so I was more than happy to accept" he says, opening the door and leaning in to place his things on the passenger side seat and straightening back up to face me again, not making moves to sit inside yet. 

"I'm sorry they basically volunteered you to be my date to this stupid ball thing" I apologize further, looking down and kicking the rocks under my shoes in embarrassment. 

"You know," he start, tilting my chin up to make eye contact, "You say sorry quite a lot for someone who doesn't need to apologize" he finishes, rubbing corner on my lips with his thumb before leaning in. 

I shut my eyes tight, scared that this might be the time he actually kisses me and hold my breath. 

I hear him chuckle to himself and places a kiss on the corner of my mouth, close enough to keep me wanting more and no where near far enough to maintain that professionalism he tries but fails to maintain around me. 

"Goodnight y/n" he whispers before sinking down into the drivers seat making me open my eyes fast enough to see the satisfied smirk on his face. 

He closes his door and starts the car, rolling down his window before he puts it in drive. 

"We're going to the modiste in the morning to pick out your dress for the event so be ready at seven" he says, turning his face towards me. 

"But it's Sunday" I protest and he nods in acknowledgment. "I'm aware but time is of the essence love. I'll come pick you up so please be ready on time" he says, waiting for an answer to solidify the plan. 

"Yes Mr. Jeon" I mumble looking down at my shoes again, falling into routine of agreeing when I wish I didn't have to. "Good girl" he finishes, leaving me snapping my vision back up at him with shock and he grants me a smile in return. 

"Goodnight Mr. Jeon" I say and at that he chuckles and faces straight ahead, rolling up his window before pulling out of the driveway and onto the street. Leaving me with my thoughts and emotions in a turmoil like he always does. 

prev / next Series Masterlist

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

Join my Taglist!

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

[procyonloser]

Pt 9

Lucifer woke up to a slight jolt of the mattress, and jerked his head up, drool running down his cheek. Adam was starting to sit up in bed, and looked over at Lucifer apologetically.

"I have to work this morning, I gotta go to my place and get ready." Adam said, keeping his voice soft, judging by the light coming in the window, it was still fairly early. "Unless you have clothes that fit me, which I'm guessing you do not."

"You're eight feet tall, and I'm the size of a Dorito." Lucifer mumbled, making Adam laugh. He leaned in and kissed him, before getting out of bed, and Lucifer didn't mind the view one bit, even if it meant he was going to have to say goodbye to Adam for the rest of the day.

"Call me?" Lucifer asked, and Adam sent him a look.

"Duh," Adam said with some humor. "Let me know when you want to go to the observatory with Charlie, otherwise most my nights are open, except the days I teach shop class downtown."

Lucifer blinked at him. "Who are you? How many jobs do you have?"

"I'm Adam, bitch, and I have a single job... Just a handful of side hustles. I also teach guitar classes, but only in summer." Adam grinned down at him, before grabbing his clothes from the night before. "I used to have more, when I was avoiding going home."

"Ah, yes, I took a cheese making class once to avoid divorce stress, and I'm lactose intolerant." Lucifer sat up in bed, realizing that while he'd called in late for work today, he did still have to get up as well.

Adam snickered before pausing and looking at the door, before walking back over, getting on the bed, straddling Lucifer, and kissing his brains out, until they were practically leaking out of his head. "Okay," Adam said after a second, voice slightly hoarse. "See you later."

"Yeah," Lucifer breathed out, eyes fluttering. After Adam left, he flopped back down onto his bed, arms outstretched, a dumb smile on his face.

"Excuse me?" Lilith asked, voice slightly icy. It'd taken years for Lucifer to realize that when she said things like that, she wasn't actually asking for clarification or Lucifer to explain what he'd just said - she was more or less saying, 'what the fuck are you thinking?'

"I... What's wrong with that?" Lucifer asked nervously, eyes darting over to where Charlie was in the living room of his former home, kissing all her stuffed animals goodbye for the next few days. "You're dating, aren't you?"

"I'm not taking Charlie on dates with me! Not with some random strange man?" Lilith hissed, and on some level Lucifer understood her point, but Adam wasn't a stranger. Well, he did seemingly drop a new job on him every time they met, but not like that.

"Adam works with kids, he's met Charlie repeatedly already at the aquarium, and he's just trying to schedule dates so I don't have to miss out on seeing Charlie or him. That's not weird? Is it?" Lucifer asked, confusion setting in. He didn't like it when she talked like he was incapable of understanding things.

"Lucifer-" Lilith said, only to get cut off my Charlie running in with her bag, hugging Lucifer's leg.

"I'm ready!" She said cheerfully, laughing as Lucifer picked her up, hugging her tightly.

"Okay, let's go! We're going to have a great weekend, right?!"

"Yeah!" Charlie cheered, and Lilith made a face, but didn't say anything else besides one last,

"Be careful."

"He's not dangerous," Lucifer said softly, and Lilith shook her head.

"You're falling too fast, Lucifer. More than just you will be hurt if this doesn't work out, if you involve Charlie. What happens if you break up, will you still go to the aquarium? The zoo?"

Lucifer was quiet, he didn't know. He wouldn't avoid it intentionally, but it would hurt to see Adam again if they did. She was right, he did fall hard and fast for people, but he felt like maybe Adam did too.

"Hey Charlie, you want to go see the stars tonight?" Lucifer asked, turning away from Lilith. He was going to choose to hope for the best.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Secluded Paradise

Pairing: Dark Steve Rogers x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend is tired of your technology addiction so he takes matters into his own hands.

WARNINGS: Imprisonment; Toxic Relationship.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

“And I was thinking we should go to the country house for the weekend, it could be like a getaway from the city. No phones or wi-fi, just us. What do you think, honey?” Steve asks, his blue eyes squinting at your figure, who continues completely focused on the phone. 

“Honey?” he repeats himself, his voice only demonstrating a small hint of anger as he reaches to tap on your arm a bit, successfully grabbing your attention.

You look at him, confusion blinding your eyes which only makes Steve even more annoyed at you. 

“Yeah, sure, sure. Whatever you want, babe.” you hurriedly agree, returning your attention back to your phone. Steve clenches his hand and takes a deep breath as he tries to keep his anger away. 

It’s hard to live in this new modern century where everyone has technology addiction. He usually tries his best to be patient when you’re glued to the device or when you ask him to take millions of pictures of yourself, just so that in the end you only choose one to post on your social media.

It’s complicated though, he’s a patient man but even Captain America has his own limits to the point that it’s reaching its end. 

Steve isn’t blind to the way that you seem to rejoice with all the attention you receive online. With Natasha’s extensive help, he actually managed to learn some rudimentar basics of navigating the online world, going as far as to creating a secret account.

All of this just to keep track of you - a man needs to keep tabs on his woman, of course. 

Yet something that worsened his mood was noticing how many pictures you had displayed there, with an abundance of male comments where most of them used very vulgar language. 

Something you clearly had no problem with. If anything, it seemed like you thoroughly enjoyed the attention, rewarding those unknown men with even more pictures of you wearing scandalous outfits. 

Plus, having a decent conversation with you was getting harder and harder as your attention was uniquely on your phone at all times. You had no time to even make small conversation, much less discuss future life plans.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he signals the waiter to bring the check and quickly pays, helping you to stand up and dress your jacket. 

“I’m gonna start planning for our vacations. You’re going to love them.” he says, grabbing your free hand. You don’t offer any response, the fingers of your free hand rapidly tapping on the screen. Steve swallows his annoyance once again as he makes up his mind. 

He’s not going to tolerate it much more. 

“Steve! Oh my god!” 

Steve is leaning against the kitchen counter, merely watching as you struggle with your phone. You’re trying to go up on the couch of the living room, elevating your phone in hopes of catching a wi-fi signal. 

Steve’s lips curl at that sight, it’s nice to see you so desperate, so needy for something. 

“Darling, I told you we don’t have any internet here.” he patiently reminds you as if you’re a child. Your hand drops as you gasp in horror, looking back at him.

“But…but…I need it, Steve.” you whine, a pout starting to form on your glossy lips. It makes Steve’s dick feel alive, he likes it when you beg. But right now, he has to be stern about this. 

“No, you don’t. A few days without that annoying device won’t kill you.” he places his hands at his hips, his tone getting sterner. 

“But-”

“Enough, goddamnit!” 

You immediately shut up, frightened by Steve’s shout. The hand holding your phone slowly falls down and you look at Steve, shocked. His face turns almost remorseful for a moment, but then that expression disappears and he returns to his normal self again.

“Now, let me show you around. You’re going to love the house, the master bedroom is really huge and has one of those big television screens, the garden is just…” Steve rambles like he didn’t just snap at you. 

He offers you a wide smile, motioning towards the stairs with one of his huge hands, but you remain glued to your spot, hand strongly clutching the phone as if your life depends on it. Ironic since it doesn’t even have a signal.

“I think I wanna go home.” you declare with a shaken voice. Steve’s smile disappears and an impatient expression takes over. 

“Nonsense. We just got here, honey.” Steve rubs his face, as if he’s tired. His voice starting to have an annoyed accent, making his irritation more obvious. You don’t like that. 

“I want to go back.” you repeat, stepping out of the couch and starting to head towards the main door. 

As soon as your hand reaches for the handle, a muscled arm bars the door. You turn your head towards Steve, his brows united in an irritated frown. 

“Why do you always have to be a fucking brat?” he raises his voice and you immediately take a step back. He’s never spoken to you in this way. 

“Oh now is when you decide to get scared? Not when those creeps comment on your slutty pictures online. Maybe that’s what you like, huh?” He darkly chuckles, seeing you scared. 

You keep your silence, your heart throbbing in your ears. The door is so close but you know that with Steve around, you’ll never actually get to leave. This new Steve is starting to scare you. 

But you can’t go against him, you have no idea what he’ll do yet one thing is clear: he’s much stronger than you are. 

As the silence uncomfortably grows, Steve lets out a sigh and removes his hand. You don’t dare to move, knowing that he won’t let you leave. 

“Listen, I just want to spend some quality time with my girlfriend. Is that too much to ask?” he says, his voice sounding honest and apologetic. Like he’s the old Steve. 

You look at him and that's when it strikes you. You can’t leave without the car.

Steve is the one that drove all the way here and you did notice the house being located in a secluded area, no stores and no other houses around.

It took almost one hour by car to get here, no way you’d be able to find your way back without the car. Whose keys are with Steve. 

You stiffly nod and Steve immediately takes your hand with a strong hold. 

“Let’s go on with the house tour then. You’re going to love it, honey.” 

Silence and darkness rules over the entire house. No city sounds that usually disturb the night. You don’t like it, it’s too peaceful for your taste.

It’s boringly calm, but Steve probably loves it hence he fell asleep so fast. You can’t hear a single sound coming from his room, meaning that he’s most certainly asleep. 

It’s time, then. 

You rise from the bed and silently tiptoe towards the living room, not even bothering to grab your bag or to dress in warmer clothes. You’re eager to get out of this horrible place already and once you reach the city, you’ll just break-up with Steve and move on with your life. 

You saw Steve placing both the house and the car keys inside a bowl on the counter, next to the door after dinner. It’s perfect, when you think about it.

You can lock Steve inside and take the car. Not that a weak lock would do much against Steve’s inhuman strength but the idea grows into you, it doesn’t hurt to lock a door.

Finally reaching the living room, you almost run towards the counter. You immediately dip your hand into the bowl, only for your fingers to grab air. Your eyes widen in horror and when you look, it's empty. 

A cough is heard from behind you and your heart drops to your feet. 

No, no. 

This cannot be happening, not when you were so close to freedom. You squint your eyes tight for a moment, trying to muster up some courage before you finally turn around.

Steve is leaning against a wall, a slightly annoyed but mostly arrogant expression on his face.

A growing smirk curls his lips, amused to see you try to get away when in reality you'd never be able to do so. You were too busy with your phone to realize that the house had an eletric fence, one that required a code to open. Silly you.

“Looks like you’re stuck here with me, babe” 

[queer-ragnelle]

hello..👋👋

as someone who wants to get into arthurian legends.. where do you think I should start? is there a precise canon to follow? oh and.. this might be a stupid question but.. how would you describe guinevere's and lancelot's relationship...? i personally really like them because of what I've heard online, but i got shamed for liking it a while ago from people who really hated guinevere and said gawain or galehaut(not sure if i spelled it right) would be better for lancelot..

Hello anon!

I have a Beginner’s Guide to Medieval Arthuriana pinned on my blog. There’s no precise canon to follow, but you’ll get the most bang for your buck reading the works of Chrétien de Troyes and the Vulgate Cycle. Much of what Chrétien developed ended up in the Vulgate, like Lancelot rescuing Guinevere from kidnapping, but there are more elements added from other stories, such as Lancelot’s upbringing in the lake which originated from Lanzelet by Ulrich von Zatzikoven. On the other hand, Yvain’s journey as Knight with the Lion doesn’t make it into the Vulgate, so that’s worth reading on its own.

Regarding the part about people shaming you: block them if you haven’t already and anyone else who does so in future. I’m terribly sorry those people were unwelcoming as you begin to read and learn about Arthurian Legend. Let that not reflect on the community as a whole—there’s many lovely people here that’ll be happy to help you along. I hope you’re able to cultivate a positive online experience to the best of your ability and start enjoying the legends with us! :^D

But back to the fun stuff—I also really like Guinevere/Lancelot! My favorite dynamic is when Arthur is included too, but Guin is my number one pick for Lancey. ;^) It’s hard to describe them in so few words but I think it’s important to establish that they’re friends. This is an oft overlooked aspect that really deserves attention. They care for each other deeply. She helps him out of his madness and he helps her out of danger. This is something Arthur couldn’t do for either of them, much as he wanted to. That’s what makes the pair special, to me.

As for shipping wars about medieval characters….kinda ridiculous! And shaming other people over it is just abhorrent. I’m sorry you had to deal with that! Personally I enjoy Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot and Galehaut/Lancelot. I think it’s obvious I favor Gawain with his wife Ragnelle lol but Gawain/Lancelot is fine too. Gawain can have a little Lancelot. As a treat. I even enjoy “crackship” type pairings, like Bedivere/Lancelot or Kay/Lancelot or maybe a little [unrequited] Agravaine/Lancelot, and if the author or filmmaker chooses to write her in a positive light, Elaine/Lancelot as well. But that’s just it—there’s certainly no such thing as a “better” person(s) to couple with Lancelot. It’s literally fake. It’s fiction. It’s for fun! Doesn’t sound like the people you’ve encountered were having very much fun and put that on you, which was wrong.

Here I’d like to mention I run a discord server called the Arthurian Theater Server. Every weekend I stream TV shows and movies, mostly Arthurian, sometimes random fantasy. But it’s more than visual media—my friends and I share resources, character playlists, art we made, stories we wrote, we’ll liveblog retellings or newly discovered medlit translations, and discuss anything else Arthurian! We have custom made emojis for all the knights and ladies, a variety of original art stickers of the characters provided by several members, and an array of sounds bites ripped from films and TV for the soundboard to be played while streaming. Tumblr can be a little hard to navigate with the unreliable tag system, so this server is dedicated to an organized and moderated exchange of ideas and content. You’re welcome to join us!

Let me know if you have any other questions, it’s never a bother. Take care!

[abigailywrites]

postscript. [bucky barnes x reader]

part two

ao3 / ko-fi rating: t word count: 3k warnings: none

The picture you choose for Bucky isn’t anything special, in your opinion. One of your friends captured it on a Sunday afternoon: just you leaning up on the railing on the pier and only half-looking at the camera, enraptured by the hazel shine of the water as you were. Still, you enclose it in the envelope and compose your letter. 

19 September 1943

Dear Bucky,

Who is this Captain Sobel person? I’ll write a strongly-worded letter just for him, just say the word. What are you supposed to do on a weekend without a pass, anyway? Sounds worse than detention, believe it or not. Now, to be fair, I only got detention that one time. If memory serves, you were in there a little more frequently than I was. I won’t forget the time we spent there together, though. Happy memories, in the end, since it won me a good friend like yourself. 

I don’t think I ever apologized for that, by the way. Now’s as good a time as any since I don’t know when I’ll see you in person next. I wish I’d known how difficult that year was for you. I wish a lot of things had been different, actually. It wasn’t fair to you that you had to work so hard and go without, and meanwhile I was oblivious to all of that and just made things even harder than they had to be. Now, there’s this war on that sort of makes all those wishes for different circumstances seem small and unimportant. I still look at them from time to time though sort of through the looking glass, and I imagine a world where there isn’t a war at all and things have been dandy between us our whole lives. That way I can better enjoy it when you call me your best friend even if it’s only a running gag. 

And, on that note, what’s a picture between friends? I hope the one I’ve enclosed is sufficient for bragging rights. That one was taken by John Hall. Do you remember him? He’s a few years younger than us, and I think he knows Steve better. Anyway, he’s getting ready to ship out with the rest of you… I think he’s trying to become the next Eisenhower. I hope by the time the punk reaches that level of seniority, the war is long over. If you see him sometime, say hi for me. I did manage to get a hold of Steve, and he laughed at you making me “Buck’s messenger girl.” He told me to tell you that he gets your letters and he knows you’re getting his, so stop bothering me. (Don’t quit bothering me, I’ll never forgive you.)

I truly don’t know how my mother would feel about being your division’s patron saint, but it sure gets a laugh out of me. I say go for it, but don’t tell her I said so and don’t let anyone make a pin-up of her. I mean it! I’ll know if you do.

She doesn’t know yet that I’m writing to you. I think, honestly, I just want to see first if we keep it up. I’m sure you’ll get so busy after a while that it will be hard to think of writing letters, and I want you to know that I won’t be angry if they start to peter out. Until then, I’m happy to give you any news of New York that you would like, short of sending you the Times. Just be a dear and let me know what about me you’d most like to hear about.

For the time being, I’ll let you know that the rubber business is booming and keeps a poor old maid secretary like myself from finding a good husband. This breaking headline I’ve heard from the women at church. I credit it more to a love of being mostly ALONE. I’d have to really love somebody to want their presence all the time.

I remain affectionately, 

Your Friend and maybe even your best one.

P.S. Sorry to hear you don’t get Jack Benny! But in that case, I hope you don’t mind if I repurpose some of his gags. I’ll be your one-woman USO show.

-... -...

27 September 1943

Best Friend (the absolute truth, not a gag),

Well, well, well, I was minding my business a couple of mornings ago as I was working the mess (nevermind why), and who should show up for their chow but the entirety of the 506th? Guarnere was the first to pay me the time of day, and I guess it’s because he’s a rough character who really has it out for me. Not that I don’t get it. I might have accidentally remarked to one of the guys that his name sounds awful close to “gonorrhea” and they sort of took that and ran with it. All the same, I was genuinely happy to see him, and he didn’t seem as brash as he usually is. 

Then, knowing he was around, I was able to track down Joe Liebgott, Babe Heffron, and Don Malarkey. So, here they are! Paratroopers by the dozens. With them here, I’m guessing that it will only be [REDACTED] before we ship out to the mainland of Europe, now. [REDACTED]. [REDACTED]. From what I understand at the moment, we’re not headfirst into combat, but it’s not far off. Can’t tell you where we’re going exactly—loose lips sink ships and all. Besides, I hardly know, myself. They don’t tell me much, but needless to say, it’s gonna be a rough one. (Hello to the Second Lieutenant reading this letter to censor all of the information he considers sensitive. Why don’t you just trust that I don’t know anything worth telling and stop being such a creep? Haven’t you got your own girl to write to?)

That in mind, don’t you dare get all sappy on me about what all happened a decade ago. I didn’t want folks to know, so I didn’t tell them. No matter what I was going through, it didn’t give me an excuse to be a jerk. I don’t think I ever apologized to you for that, either. So there. We’re even. Besides, it’s like you said: happy memories in the end. What a swell friend you’ve been to me thus far, and lucky me if we keep it up.

Don’t go writing to John Hall, now, either. I do remember him plenty and I’m sure there were girls aplenty clamoring to write to him. As for me, I’ve only got the one. (Poor me! Take pity, Second Lieutenant.) To discourage you from running off with handsome Mr. Hall, I’ve sent you a picture of myself to remind you how very handsome I also am.

No pin-ups of your saintly mother! Yes, ma’am! I hope she approves of me enough to not be bothered if/when you decide to let her know that we’re writing. I, personally, don’t see myself giving up writing to you, but that promise of no-anger goes in both directions. You girls back home have got to stay busy and keep morale up over there. Though, I can confess to selfishly enjoying my one-woman USO show.

Old maid? You’re how old? Twenty-four/five? I guess that makes me an old confirmed bachelor at twenty-six. I joke, but some of the guys here are so young it darn well feels like it. When we win this thing, it’s gonna be from the efforts of teenagers and twenty-somethings. At this rate, they’re gonna have to start letting eighteen-year-olds vote in elections.

That’s all from me for the time being, though I figure with the 506th in town, things will start to get interesting. Who is Captain Sobel? Well, he’s the guy who just showed up to make my life a living [REDACTED] heck.

Your faithful friend,

Bucky Barnes

P.S. I understand wanting to be alone. If there’s one thing this town is missing, it’s PRIVACY.

-.-- -.

4 October 1943

Dear Bucky,

Thank you for your picture. My mother found a frame for it so I could put it on my desk and try to remember that I am writing to Bucky Barnes and NOT John Hall. It’s so hard to keep track, sometimes. Although I might have to start writing to him if you insist on being so secretive. What do you mean nevermind about you working the mess? Is there something about mess work that I don’t know?

Mother was glad to hear that we’ve been writing and even happier when she saw your picture come through. Not to inflate your ego, but handsome was just one of the words she used to describe you. She couldn’t stop saying how grown-up you look from the last time she saw you. I think the Class A’s help: they do shine you up some, soldier! (You’re in need of some polish, too. Poor Mr. Guarnere.)

Well, tell all the boys I say hello. I feel like I know them already. Would you believe I was thrilled to hear that the 506th had made it to you safely? Well, I was. Although, maybe it’s just the patriotism that the war has instilled in me over the past couple of years. Hoo-rah for our boys coming to the rescue of those poor Brits. Even if one of our heroes is really named Malarkey. Is that a fact or a nickname?

Speaking of those poor Brits, I haven’t forgotten about the cup of tea you owe me or my chat with Winston Churchill. Do you think you’ll get a pass to come home for Christmas? I know that’s some time out, but I can’t help but wonder. If it really is nice to be missed, you must be living the nicest of anybody. Me and Steve go to the movies on Saturdays to see the newsreels (haven’t yet caught a glimpse of you) and wonder about what you’re doing at that very instant.

Oh, swell, my mother’s just come for a visit and is asking about you. I’ll have to pick this up later.

Much later! We ended up taking the car to go to a bond rally in Manhattan and take a casserole to a family in her neighborhood who just put up a gold star. I’m starting to hate the look of those things. 

Well, I have no desire to sour the tone. My boss is giving me Friday off this week for no other reason than to be nice. His wife had her baby this weekend, and he was in a happy mood/intends to take a long weekend himself. I think I’ll call up my girlfriends and see if we can’t see the Jack Benny show taped live. If not, then we’ll see that new Red Skelton picture. Geez, I can’t imagine only getting Bob Hope! I hope the English comedians are funny enough to make you snort, at least. 

Sorry for another short letter! Running around like a chicken with my head cut off until Friday. I’ll try for a longer one next time. Maybe when I’ve got a little more time to write, I can bore you to death with my crochet projects. Or maybe I’ll become a WAVE so at least my boring stories will have a little more action. Whatever I do in the next couple of weeks, I will remain,

Your BEST friend.

P.S. My mother wanted me to tell you that you look just like John Wayne. I do not see it.

-... -...

9 October 1943

Heya,

I thought I said don’t worry about my working the mess. Well, I meant it, and you’d better get used to taking me seriously, missy. You are now writing to a gentleman who has crawled his way out of said mess hall, and is well on his way to being promoted to a Lieutenant any day now. How do I know this? Well, easy. I’ve got the blessing of your saintly mother. It’s enough to lift any man’s spirits and make him feel loaded down with good luck charms. (Although, I’ll admit, your pretty picture is still my favorite).

What am I doing on a Saturday? After duties, probably lounging around with whatever guys from the 506th that can get out from under Sobel’s thumb. They’re all swell guys, don’t get me wrong. All the same, the idea of going to the movies with you and Steve makes me homesick in a way I’ve never known. (I just remembered the time difference between you and me. When you go to the movies, I’m probably washing up for bed.)

There now, remember what I said about home morale? You’re doing your part, kid. Just don’t become a WAVE if you can help it. It’s enough to keep selling bonds. Who will crochet for us if not you? Tell me all about your projects, if you like, and I’ll be an avid listener. It’s a better hobby than what the guys get up to which is mostly just getting drunk and smashing up whatever glass they can find. (I once again thank Lt. Winters for staying sober as a judge and keeping some semblance of peace). Who are you that can make even the rough corners of NYC seem like a gentle place to land?

Yes, Don Malarkey’s name is really Malarkey. You’ll love this, too. Winston Churchill did, in fact, come to inspect our troops with Gen. Eisenhower. Malarkey himself had a decently long conversation with the Prime Minister and now won’t shut up about it. He told me to give you this bag of tea (enclosed) since he can’t stand the stuff and he’s reached the height of the English experience anyway.

All of us are getting a little antsy here, I think. Some more than others. There have been plenty of guys who have run around and snatched up all the pretty local girls. Then, when I think all of them must be taken, they all break up with each other and go rounds. Sounds awful tiresome to me. I keep myself busy after duties by writing to you and Rebecca then helping out on the sheep farm I’m billeted at. These folks have a couple of little refugee kids here from London that crack me up the way they stare at me all wide-eyed when I’m in uniform. When I’m out in the roads, though, they’ll chase me on their bikes and ask, “Got any gum, yank?” I like to surprise them with it, if I can.

I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything about Christmas. I did have a home pass last year, so I wouldn’t count on it twice. If it works out, though, your door will be the first I knock on when I go caroling. Give your mother my love and kisses.

Your favorite Englishman,

Bucky “John Wayne” Barnes

P.S. I won’t tell all the boys you said hello. They’re a bunch of opportunistic scumbags, and they don’t deserve it from you. Dum Dum says hello back.

-.. -..

From the esteemed desk of Timothy Dugan

9 October 1943

Dear Madam,

I am writing regarding information that you requested approximately a week ago regarding the work of one Mr. James Buchanan Barnes in the fine Mess Hall of our base here in sunny Aldbourne, England. I regret to inform you, ma’am, that the mess hall is where a soldier of Mr. Barnes’s rank is sent after engaging in what a lady like yourself might call a “rear-end” kicking with his fellow enlisted men. What drove our Mr. Barnes to such drastic and violent action, you may ask? Well, madam, it is a joy to relate it to you!

I remember it well: a simple game of football on a misty day like you must be accustomed to in New York. Mr. Barnes, having been goaded into playing by myself and several compatriots and having also finished a letter to his sister Rebecca, put down his writing equipment and joined us in a riotous good time. When he returned to his property, you can imagine his shock at finding it pinched by a couple of enlisted men who had seen your picture and wanted it for a pin-up. I don’t mean to shock you, madam, but these are the facts of the case.

Dear sweet mother, but I have never seen Bucky Barnes so darn riled up before. Those enlisted men quickly found out how funny their little joke was. He socked both of them across the jaw before either of them knew what was happening. It was a blow that, from what I understand of how you befriended our Mr. Barnes, would’ve made you proud.

Sincerely,

Tim “Dum Dum” Dugan

P.S. I’ve since been privileged enough to see the picture that sent Mr. Barnes to the mess hall. I’d say it’s worth fighting over. You look like—if you’ll excuse me—a real peach. Bucky’s a lucky fella.

.--- ….

9 October 1943

Hello to you from Aldbourne!

I realize it may be strange to hear from me so all of a sudden, but I’ve run into Bucky Barnes and he’s having a real cow over a letter that I guess Dum Dum means to send to you. All the same, they’ve reminded me that I saw the picture that Bucky got pinned for fighting over. That’s the one that I took, isn’t it? Boy, that was a swell day.

Speaking of that day, I think I also gave you some pictures that I took of your cousin who was with us, if you’ll remember. If you gave her those pictures, do you know if she would mind sending me one along with her address? I’d really owe you one if you’d ask for me.

I’ll let Bucky handle all of the riveting descriptions of life in England, but I hope you and yours are getting along. Write to me if you ever get a mind to! You and Steve both.

Your friend in Able Company,

John Hall post

P.S. I hope you know what you’re getting into with Bucky. I think he’s twitterpated on you.

[xdaddysprincessxx]

Go Ahead and Cry Little Girl

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!reader (Agent Gin)

Warnings: Daddy issues!!, character death mentioned, daddy kink, piv (again wrap it up guys!), f & m oral, dacryphillia, 1 use of song lyrics, dirty talk (it’s jack mf Daniels what did you expect?) boss/employee dynamics, sex work (we support sex workers in this household!) squirting, voyeurism, cum eating, Reader is described as having hair, a vagina, well hydrated (; and can blush. that should be all! Lmk if i missed something (:

A/n: This one’s for my babes with daddy issues! I see you, I love you. This idea hit me while I was driving to work and the song “Daddy issues” by The neighborhood came on. As of right now I think each Murder daddy is gonna have a daddy issues one shot but we’re starting off strong with my personal favorite cowboy.🤠

Growing up your dad wasn’t home very much. You honestly don’t have very many memories of the guy. The memories you do have always seem to be of him frowning at you, disappointed and telling you that you need to do better, be better. You were just a kid. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Instead of having a loving, doting father you had this stranger who’s approval you wanted desperately. So you worked hard in school, played sports, joined as many after school programs as you could and when you graduated high school you had full ride scholarships to all the big schools across the nation. I’m talking Harvard, MIT, Stanford, Yale, the list goes on. You ended up choosing Columbia University in New York so you could be as far away from home as possible. College was a breeze for you, graduating early with high honors you weren’t surprised when Statesmen approached you offering you an intelligence job.

Accepting this job was an easy decision for you. A few years after graduating high school your dad kicked the bucket and your mom ran off with the first guy who gave her a lick of attention. You had no one to go back too, no family to visit on the holidays. And you loved working at Statesmen. Working in the lab alongside Ginger, you helped create new technologies and advance healthcare. You had it all; a great career, a nice studio apartment in Manhattan. What more could you want? Ah yes approval. For some reason you still had this deep seeded need to be well liked and needed by others. So you do what any girl does, you sell your nudes online to creepy men in exchange they give you their money and high praises. You never reveal your face or your real identity so nobody knows it’s you.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

Coming back to work after a long weekend is proving to be a tough one. You’ve been overworking yourself lately and having three whole days off you went home and slept for hours only waking up to eat Chinese takeout and then go directly back to sleep. Back in the lab, you find yourself frustrated and having to keep retrying new samples for a new antibiotic your working on.

“Hey Gin go ahead and take a break hun. I’ve seen you redo the same sample 10 times now. I’m not sure where your head is but try to get it out of the clouds before you come back.” Ginger Ale says to you as you lay your head down on the table next to the microscope you’ve been staring at for the last two hours.

Sighing, “Yea yea. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me Ginger. I just can’t focus and I have zero energy.” you say as you get up and start gathering your things.

Soon enough your back up on the fifth floor, down the hall from the cafeteria. Just as your rounding the corner you find yourself running right into the very man who haunts your every thought. Jack Daniels or Agent Whiskey as most people at Statesmen know him as. The man has been the star of all your dirty daydreams, his accent and mannerisms scream ‘southern gentleman’ and boy do you eat that shit up every time you see him.

“Well hey there darlin’ watch out where your going. Don’t wanna go runnin into any ole body now do we?” Jack says in his thick accent just as you bounced backward after hitting him square in the chest.

“Oh my god Agent Whiskey I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!” You manage to get out despite having the wind knocked out of you.

“Now darlin’ call me Jack. Am I gonna have to tell you this every time?” He teases you causing a deep blush to creep across your cheeks.

With a soft smile on your face and your eyes cast down, “Of course not Ag- I mean Jack.” You say with the smallest giggle. As soon as the words left your mouth you felt Jacks finger under your chin, lift your face up forcing you to look directly into his gorgeous deep brown eyes.

“There we go. Now that’s what I like to hear. My name come out of such a beautiful lady’s mouth.” Jack says with a smirk.

As if you couldn’t blush any harder, you somehow turn even redder in the face.

“Now go on beautiful, have a good day.” Jack says as he tilts his hat towards you.

“Thanks Jack, you have a good one too.” You manage to squeak out as you gather yourself once again and continue on walking toward the cafeteria.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

Sitting down at a table in a far back corner, you crack open a cold can of coke and take a deep sip. The carbonation leaving a cold wake of bubbles in your throat, already feeling the affects of the caffeine. Pulling your phone out you decide to hop on your website and respond to a few messages as you wait for the soda to really kick in. You have a good handful of regulars who like to ask for custom content and one of them had recently asked for a video of you riding your favorite toy. Just as your about to send the video, a text comes in from Jack.

1:32pm - Hey I hope I didn’t hurt ya when you ran into me earlier sugar 😉

1:34pm - No you didn’t! If anything I’m sorry for running into you! I hope I didn’t hurt you Jack.🩷

Without even thinking, after you press send you hit the icon for your photos and pull up the video you were sending to your regular, find it and hit send.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

Jacks sitting at his desk when he hears a ping and sees you’ve texted him back. As soon as he read your text he saw a video message pop up immediately after. Opening the video, he sees you sitting on the floor in your bedroom and a decent sized pink dildo. The video starts and you swing your leg over the dildo, lowering yourself down, you grab the dildo and swipe it through your folds a few times. Moaning, you drop all the way down on the dildo. The angle of the camera allows Jack to see the dildo stretch you open. Not quite as big as Jack, it still gives him a delicious view of what you’d look like speared on his cock. Thinking to himself, he wonders if you meant to send this to him through text. Most likely it was on accident. But what you don’t know is that Jack knows all about your little secret. In fact he’s been one of your regulars for awhile now. Always sending in requests and tipping generously. Something else he knows you are ignorant too is that he was the one who requested this particular video.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

After texting Jack back and sending out the custom video, you feel awake enough now to get back to work. Just as you get back into the lab, you hear the lab phone ring. You go to grab the phone off the hook, “Hello Agent Gin, how can I help you?”

“Well well well if it ain’t the pretty lady I need to talk too” Jack crones into your ear. “I need to see you in my office darlin’ now. Please.”

“Yes of course sir I’m on my way now.” You reply, your voice cracking just the tiniest bit.

Unsure as to why Jack needs to see you in his office, you check your texts between you two to see if you misread something and that’s when you realize you sent Jack the video! Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. You’re screwed! Your dirty little secret is out now and the one man you want so desperately inside of you now knows all about it.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

Knocking on Jacks office door, you go to turn the knob to open the door.

Peeking your head in, “You wanted to see me sir?” you say as you clear your throat that’s suddenly dry as the Sahara Desert.

Sitting at his desk, you see Jack look up at you with this hungry look in his eyes.

“Ah there she is. Come in sugar. Have a seat.” He motions to the chair in front of his desk. You quickly come in, closing the door behind you and taking a seat.

Jack stands up, slowly walking towards the door when you notice he locks it. Making his way back to his desk, he sits on top of it directly in front of you.

“Now sugar your probably wondering why I need to talk to you.”

Gulping, you look down unable to look him in the face, “um I think I know why sir.” You manage to say, knowing there’s no reason to play stupid. You both know what you sent him. Might as well confess to it and get it all over with.

“Look at me sugar. I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours when I’m talking to you” Jack says in a low baritone voice.

Looking up at him, a deep blush covering your cheeks, you try to swallow as best you can and find your words.

“Now we’re both adults here. We both have urges. If you needed a good fuck darlin’ all you had to was ask. I’d be more than happy to oblige.” He says in a matter of factly tone.

Stunned you just gawk up the agent in front of you. Did he really just say that? Is he- he’s not- what is happening?!??

Jack goes to stand up, directly in front of you, “Get on your knees little girl.”

Unable to speak you do as he says and you push back your chair as you lower yourself onto your knees.

“There’s my good girl. Now sugar I’m going to fuck you good and hard. And your going to take every thing I give you. Understood?”

Shaking your head yes as you look up at Jack. Nervous as hell but you can’t help but get excited. Isn’t this what you always wanted? Isn’t he the star of your wet dreams?

Jack goes to take his blazer off, rolling up his sleeves as he begins to unbuckle his absurdly large belt buckle. Watching him undress like this has your mouth and pussy watering. Your finally gonna have the Jack Daniels inside of you. You can’t wait.

He pulls out the biggest dick you’ve ever seen. Now you get why this man walks around so arrogantly. The man has the dick to back it up. Your eyes widen as the head of his cock seems to stare at you in your soul. At about average length, he’s girthy as all get out. There’s no way you’d be able to get much of him in your mouth.

Jack gives his cock a few good strokes, “Open up sugar. Let me see how good you can be.”

You drop your jaw quickly and open your mouth, dropping your tongue out. Smirking, Jack takes his cock and starts rubbing it up and down your tongue. After gliding the head on your tongue a few times, Jack sticks his cock in your mouth, forcing it down your throat causing you to gag at the intrusion. Without holding back, Jack continues to gag you with his cock. Your eyes over flowing with tears.

Jack looks down at you the whole time, just staring in awe at how beautiful you look with his cock in your mouth, eyes wide with tears looking back at him.

“Go on and cry little girl. Nobody does it quite like you sugar. I’ve been watching you for some time now. Oh yes I know all about your dirty little secret baby.” He reveals, making you choke even harder on his cock in utter disbelief. He’s known this whole time? How much of you has he really seen?

Jack finally pulls his cock out of your mouth, spit strings still connecting you two. Brown eyes staring deep into your soul, you take a deep gulp of breath, chest heavy as you manage to stutter out, “y- you know? How long?”

“I’ve known for awhile now darlin’. I love watching your little videos. Always gets me harder than a goddamn rock. It was actually me who requested that particular little video. So it is funny you accidentally sent it to me.” Jack admits.

Before you have the chance to respond, Jack grabs you by your arm helping you up before he’s leading you towards his desk and gently pushes your top half down so your bent over. Wearing a dress that day, you can’t help but feel bare as he bends you over his desk. You feel Jack crouch down behind you, warm hands running up and down the back of your thighs. You feel his warm breath on your clothed pussy.

Taking a deep breath in, Jack slowly pulls your panties down exposing your sweet pussy to him. Unable to help himself he presses his face in and lays a kiss to your exposed clit. Hearing you let out a soft moan breaks any bit of self control Jack had and he dives in. Tongue poking out, he swipes it through your folds a few times before making a zig zagging motion from your taint up to your clit.

Feeling his thick tongue protrude your wet pussy, you feel yourself gush as he starts to flick your clit.

Moaning, “Please Jack I need more. Please.” You whisper breathlessly.

Hearing your sweet request, you feel jacks thick fingers enter you and curl up, hitting that sweet spot.

Taking his tongue off your sweet, sweet pussy, “That’s it sugar. Tell daddy what you want baby. Tell daddy how to make this pussy cream.” Jack growls as he pumps his fore and ring finger faster into you.

All to quickly you feel the sudden need to pee. Moaning even louder causing Jack to pump his fingers even faster, all to soon you feel yourself start to squirt.

“Oohhh ungghh!!!!” Comes from deep in your throat as you continue to squirt, the exquisite feeling of squirting all over his fingers is a high you never want to come down from.

“Fuck sugar that’s it. That’s it baby come on, give it all to daddy baby that’s it” Jack crones as he tries to drink up every single drop.

Boneless, you can’t help but drop on top of the desk, unable to hold your upper half up any longer. Knees weak, legs shaking, you feel jack stand back up behind you. Jack takes hold of his cock, swiping it through your folds, gathering your wetness on his cock before he slides in your sweet pussy. The feeling of his thick cock splitting you open takes your breath away.

Taking his time, feeling every ridge inside of your pussy, Jack finally fills you up to the hilt.

“Fuuuccckkk” Jack breaths out as his cock kisses your cervix. After not moving for a few seconds to let you adjust to his girth, Jack begins pummeling into you. Hands gripping your hips, forcing you back onto his cock as he fucks you good and hard just as he promised.

“That’s it sugar. Look at you. Taking my cock. So. Damn. Beautiful.” He grunts out. Jack leans forward, his chest on your back when you feel his arm snake around your front and pulls you up to him. You feel his other hand bury in your hair forcing your head up when you notice a little red, blinking light up in the corner, “Smile for the camera darlin’” Jack crones into your ear. Knowing he’s been filming this entire time has your eyes rolling back as you moan.

“This sweet fucking pussy belongs to me now darlin’ you hear me? Only I get to fuck this pussy.” Jack whispers in your ear.

“Oh fuck yes. Yes daddy it’s yours. All yours! Fuck!” You say breathlessly, agreeing to whatever he says as long as he continues to fuck you this good. You feel yourself getting close once again, the feeling of needing to pee is back.

“Daddy I’m close, please please can I cum? I wanna cum daddy! Please let me!” You beg, hoping he shows you a little mercy and let’s you cum.

Jack slaps his hand over your mouth, “Fuck baby you gotta be quiet. Daddy’s gone let you cum baby girl don’t you worry. Daddy wants to feel his sweet pussy cum on his cock.” He tells you as his other hand snakes down towards your clit. You feel his thick finger swirl around your clit and that does it for you. All too soon you feel the dam break and your coming. Hard. You bite your lip trying your hardest to keep quiet. The euphoria you feel is hard to contain, your eyes rolling back once again.

Feeling you gush hard around his cock, almost as if your pussy is trying to push him out, does him in. Jack pumps a few more times before he’s coming inside of you. As your both coming down from your highs, chests heaving, you feel jack pull out of you leaving you an empty mess.

Not sure what possessed you, you turn around to face him and lower yourself down to your knees once again. Gripping the base of his dick, you lick the mixture of you and Jack off his cock all while looking up at him. Making a show of you swallowing every bit of your cum.

“Well I’ll be damned sugar. You never fail to surprise me.” Jack chuckles darkly as he watches you from above. You can’t help but smile sweetly up at him hoping this isn’t the last time you get a taste of this cowboy.

A/n: idk where this came from lol the song inspired me but this?^ yeeaaaa we can blame my hormone monster for this, I am ovulating lmao. I hope y’all enjoy!

Tagging a few Whiskey connoisseurs and friends that I think will enjoy: @neverwheremoonchild @foli-vora @whiskeynwriting @lumoverheaven @toxicanonymity @multiversed-daydreamer @nosesitter @beefrobeefcal @juletheghoul @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @megangovier20 @ikissdin @wannab-urs

[allisonbaelfire]

Amethyst. - PART 15

The UA Sports Festival was over, but its effects still lingered in the air like a heavy fog. As we returned to our normal routines, the atmosphere in Class 1-A was subdued. The usual energy and chatter had been replaced with quiet reflection. It felt like everyone was processing what had happened, myself included.

I walked down the hall, my thoughts a jumbled mess. The fight with Bakugo, the power of the Ice Dragon, and everything else still reverberated in my mind. I could feel the stares—some filled with fear, others with awe—following me wherever I went. The shift in how people saw me was unsettling. I had felt this before, back when I was still Amethyst, but now it was sharper, more tangible.

Some students kept their distance, the fear on their faces barely concealed. Others, mostly younger kids, looked at me with wide eyes, fascinated. I heard whispers about dragons, their excitement almost tangible. But the admiration felt hollow, contrasting sharply with the cold detachment I’d become used to.

And then there was Shoto. Since the festival, he seemed to hate me even more. He wouldn’t talk to me, whether at school or at home. I’d catch him glaring at me, but when I tried to approach him, he would turn away, colder than ever. Maybe nothing had changed at all—maybe the distance between us was always going to be there.

Mr. Aizawa’s voice cut through the quiet murmur of the classroom, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Listen up. Today, we’re deciding on your hero identities—your code names.”

The announcement stirred a bit of excitement among my classmates, breaking the tension. I could see the spark of anticipation in their eyes. Picking a hero name was a big deal, a step closer to becoming the heroes we all aspired to be.

“For most students, this isn’t something you need to worry about until your second or third year,” Mr. Aizawa continued, “but our class is different. With the Pro-Hero draft picks coming up, you need to decide now. Especially the top five from the Sports Festival. You’ll also be attending the Pro-Hero Ball this weekend. It’s a rare opportunity to mingle with pros and start considering where you want to intern.”

The mention of the ball made my heart skip a beat. It was a reminder of how high the stakes were now, how much attention was on us. I didn’t have to ask to know who the top five were, but when Mr. Aizawa announced the numbers, it still felt surreal.

“Shoto Todoroki: 4,123 invitations. Katsuki Bakugo: 3,556. Fumikage Tokoyami: 2,367. Y/N Todoroki: 1,987. Tenya Iida: 300.”

The words washed over me, and my mind spun. Nearly two thousand invitations… from pros who had seen what I could do—and still wanted me?

As Mr. Aizawa continued, the room buzzed with excitement. My classmates began brainstorming their hero names, eager to choose their identities. Ms. Midnight had to give final approval, so one by one, my classmates proudly shared their names. Bakugo, of course, insisted on “King Explosion Murder,” despite the collective groans from the class.

But as the minutes passed, I just stared at my blank page. “Amethyst” lingered in my mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to write it down. Amethyst was who I used to be—back when I was a pro-hero. But now? I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure who I was, or who I wanted to be.

Days passed, and while everyone else proudly sported their new hero names, I remained undecided. It was hard to explain, even to myself, why I struggled so much with this. Choosing a name felt like committing to an identity, to a future I wasn’t sure I was ready to embrace.

Denki noticed. He always did. A few days after the name exercise, he approached me during a break.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, sliding up beside me with his usual grin. “Why haven’t you picked a hero name yet?”

I hesitated, unsure how to put the confusion inside me into words. “I just… I don’t know who I want to be,” I finally admitted, my voice quieter than I intended.

Denki’s grin faded into something more serious. I wasn’t used to seeing that side of him. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now, you know. But… you were Amethyst before, right? Why not keep it?”

“I’m not sure if that name fits me anymore,” I said, my voice strained. “Amethyst was who I was, but now… I don’t know.”

Before Denki could respond, I heard footsteps behind us. I turned to see Shoto, his eyes locked on me. He had overheard the conversation. For a moment, I thought he might say something, but he just turned and walked away, his expression unreadable. My heart sank as I watched him go.

_________

Later that evening at home, I stayed in my room, trying to drown out the world with music. The day had been heavy, and I needed to escape. But then there was a knock at my door—unexpected and confusing. No one knocked on my door, least of all Shoto.

I opened the door, shocked to see him standing there. The last time Shoto had come into my room, he was just a little boy, and we were still close. Now… things were so different.

“You finally want to talk?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“This was a mistake,” Shoto muttered, already turning to leave.

But I wasn’t going to let him go that easily. I stepped forward and grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Wait.”

He paused, tense but didn’t pull away.

“Why?” His voice was quieter now, hesitant. “Why can you use your fire so well, but you chose not to for so many years? And why are your flames purple?”

His questions caught me off guard. For the first time in a long time, I saw genuine curiosity in his eyes—a need to understand. Maybe this was his way of reaching out, trying to mend the gap between us.

I took a deep breath, my mind racing. “While you were being trained by Father, I was trained by Toya.” I kept it vague; the whole truth was too painful, too heavy to share. But it was enough for now. Shoto’s expression softened, just slightly, as he accepted my answer.

“I wanted to talk to you about the Pro-Hero Ball,” Shoto said, his voice steadier now. “Father wants us to go as a family, wearing something that probably fits well to him. But… if you want, we can go without him. We can wear something that fits us.”

I blinked, surprised by his offer. It was the first time Shoto had ever suggested defying Father. Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Before he left, Shoto turned to me again, his eyes searching mine. “Keep your hero name,” he said quietly. “It fits your flames. And… you get to decide who you want to be.”

Then he was gone, leaving me standing in the doorway, his words echoing in my mind. For the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe I didn’t need to find a new name. Maybe Amethyst was still a part of me, a part I wasn’t ready to let go of.

__________

Shoto had already told Fuyumi about our plan. We weren’t going to attend the Pro-Hero Ball with Father. Instead, we’d go on our own terms, wearing something that represented who we were, not just as Endeavor’s children. To my surprise, Fuyumi loved the idea.

She was so excited that she insisted on helping me find the perfect dress. After school on Friday, she picked me up, nearly bouncing in the driver’s seat as we headed to the mall.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, you’re going to love this!” she said, practically dragging me inside.

I gave her a skeptical look as we entered. “I’ve never really been much for dresses,” I muttered, feeling out of place under the bright fluorescent lights. I was used to patrolling this mall at night, not browsing for ballgowns in the daylight.

Fuyumi waved me off. “You’ll find something, trust me. And when you do, you’re going to knock their socks off. Especially Shoto’s.”

“Shoto doesn’t care about this stuff,” I said with a sigh as we wandered through the first store. “And I don’t either.”

Fuyumi turned to me, hands on her hips. “It’s not about them. It’s about you. It’s about showing up as you. This ball isn’t just about looking good; it’s about showing everyone who you really are outside of Father’s shadow.”

That hit me harder than I expected, and I didn’t know how to respond. So I just nodded, letting her guide me from store to store.

We tried on what felt like hundreds of dresses, each one rejected with a shake of Fuyumi’s head. I wasn’t used to all this attention, and by the fifth store, I was ready to call it quits.

You’ve got to try this one, Y/N,” Fuyumi urged, holding up the ice blue dress with shimmering crystals.

I hesitated at the sight of it. It was beautiful, sure, but it felt so far from who I thought I was. I wasn’t used to standing out like this, not outside of battle. Still, Fuyumi’s excitement was contagious.

“Fine,” I mumbled, taking the dress.

When I stepped out of the dressing room, Fuyumi’s reaction was immediate. “Oh my god… Y/N, you look incredible.”

I glanced at the mirror, barely recognizing myself. For the first time in a long time, I felt… like myself, and yet… not quite. The reflection felt like a stranger. Was this who I really was now?

_________

The day of the ball arrived faster than I had expected. Fuyumi came over early to help me get ready. She styled my hair with careful precision, humming softly to herself as she worked. I shifted awkwardly in my seat, unused to this kind of pampering.

“You don’t have to do all this,” I muttered, glancing at the elaborate setup she had brought with her—curling irons, hair pins, makeup.

“Nonsense!” she said, waving me off. “This is your night. You deserve to look and feel your best. Besides, it’s not every day my little sister gets all dolled up.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling a little. “You know I’m not great with… compliments.”

Fuyumi paused, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “I know. But you should start getting used to them, Y/N. You’re amazing, and it’s okay to let people see that.”

Her words caught me off guard, and I didn’t know how to respond, so I just stayed quiet, letting her work her magic.

Meanwhile, Natsuo was upstairs helping Shoto with his tie. I could hear Shoto’s muffled protests as Natsuo teased him about not knowing how to tie it properly.

“You could just wear a clip-on, you know,” Natsuo was saying, laughter in his voice.

“Shut up, Natsuo,” Shoto grumbled, but I could hear the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

By the time I was ready, Fuyumi stepped back, her eyes misting up as she took in the final result. “You look… beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

I shifted uncomfortably, unused to such open affection. “Uh, thanks,” I mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze.

She smiled and helped me down the stairs. Shoto and Natsuo were waiting at the bottom, deep in conversation. They didn’t notice us until Fuyumi cleared her throat.

Natsuo looked up first, his jaw dropping. “Y/N… wow. You look… wow.”

Shoto’s eyes widened slightly when he looked up. “You look… nice,” he said awkwardly, trying to form a compliment.

“Thanks, I guess,” I said, smiling a little at his awkwardness.

Fuyumi drove us to the venue, her hands gripping the steering wheel with excitement. “I can’t wait for everyone to see you two. You’re going to make a statement—together.”

As we pulled up to the venue, Fuyumi turned to Shoto, raising an eyebrow. “Shoto, help your sister out of the car. That dress isn’t exactly easy to move in.”

Shoto rolled his eyes but reluctantly got out of the car. Fuyumi and I both assumed he wouldn’t actually help, so when he walked around the car and opened my door, we were surprised.

“Here,” he said, offering his hand.

I hesitated for a second before taking it, allowing him to help me out of the car. The fabric of the dress made moving tricky, and I appreciated the unexpected gesture.

“For tonight—peace,” Shoto said quietly, placing my hand on his arm as we prepared to enter the ballroom.

I smirked slightly. “Peace.”

________

The moment we stepped through the grand doors of the ballroom, I could feel the shift in the air. Eyes turned towards us, whispers spreading like wildfire. The entire room seemed to pause as people took in our presence.

“That must be Endeavor’s kids.”

“Look, it’s Amethyst… I heard she’s not a pro-hero anymore. Probably because of that dangerous quirk. Did you see her at the Festival?!”

The weight of their stares and the whispers made my stomach churn. My grip on Shoto’s arm tightened as I fought to keep my composure. I glanced at him, hoping he hadn’t noticed how tense I was, but of course, he did.

“You’re fine,” Shoto said quietly, his voice steady, meant to reassure. “Just ignore them.”

I nodded, trying to take comfort in his words, but the tension in the room was suffocating. And then, just as I thought I might break under the pressure, I felt someone take my free hand.

I looked to my left, my eyes widening in shock. Katsuki Bakugo was standing beside me, his expression fierce, as always.

“Katsuki…?” I whispered, confused.

He didn’t look at me, his eyes scanning the room as if daring anyone to say something. “You’re shaking, Frostburn,” he muttered, his grip firm. “Get a grip.”

__________________

This is the dress I imagined Y/N to wear that evening. Let me know what you think about this Part and the Story so far, I'm always happy to read your comments! <3

Amethyst. - Masterlist: Click Here!