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yoditopascal · 1 month

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Like A Prayer (Part 2)

summary: best friends with wade you’re always being dragged into something even when he’s not trying to, what are you to do when you find the fate of your timeline in the hands of yourself, your chaotic merc and an angry wolverine who’s hellbent on drinking himself to death?

content warning: romance, some angst, a little fluff, character deaths, canon-typical violence, smut, lots of cussing, mutual pining, found family, drug and alcohol use, reader insert but with no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, deadpool being deadpool, mentions of poor mental health (depression anxiety and ptsd mostly), scent marking, the honda odyssey scene needs a warning all on its own MINORS DNI

a/n: I wanted to get up to the part where you finally meet Logan but it was too long 😭 and I ended up deciding to split the chapter up. In the mean time I hope this enough to tide you over. <3

tag list: sorry if you weren’t tagged I tried tagging everyone that asked but some usernames didn’t work! @allmyn1ghts, @blooket-scares-me, @amararosesblog, @talanyra, @spideybv28

Previous Chapter//Next Chapter

Wolverining is Hard

When you come to, your arms are tightly secured behind your back. Sitting up you try to take in your surroundings as you wiggle around trying to free yourself. The room you’re in is dark with a metal table and a singular chair in the middle and smelled strongly of disinfectant.

Just as you felt like you were making progress with your restraints, really you had just dislocated your hand, a door opens up on your right flooding your vision with a blinding light.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Came an accented voice, it sounded British. Just as your eyes had started to adjust to the light you were harshly hoisted up to your feet and dragged away into another room before being dumped unceremoniously at the feet of a pair of red and black boots

“Pookie you’re alive!” said Wade dressed in a new and improved Deadpool suit. Where did he get that? You thought to yourself. “I thought these TVA fucks ate you or something!

Helping you to your feet Wade pats you on top of the head before gesturing between your restrained hands and a guy holding what looked like a giant remote in his hands.

Rolling his eyes the guy snaps his fingers and you’re manhandled again as your restraints are roughly yanked off.

Taking in your surroundings you notice you’re in what looks to be an office with office workers and a floating platform above it. On the platform, where you all were standing, are a bunch of monitors all showing different scenes of you and your friends.

“Where are we Wade? What is this place?” You asked confused as you rubbed at your sore wrists, getting closer to him.

“You, baby girl, have just been upgraded to first disciple! Congratulations!” He said jokingly, just as he was about to say something else he was interrupted by an accented voice, the same one you had heard before.

“As you can see Mr. Wilson your friend is alive and well mostly well.” Said the man from behind Wade with the British accent, he eerily reminded you of Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. Frowning, the man watched you with a disgusted expression as you flicked your hand popping your wrist back into place as you sucked in a breath in pain. You had definitely dislocated it earlier.

“Now as much as I hate to cut the reunion short it’s time for her to go back home.” He said snapping his fingers again, suddenly you're surrounded by men in body armor again, one reaches out quickly to grab you but you stumble back into Wade who pushes you behind him.

“Wait wait wait….you’re just gonna send her home? To die?” He turns to ask the man behind him. He could feel you pressed against his back, like you were trying to get under his skin. You were scared and he couldn’t blame you, you still had no idea what was going on.

“Die? What are you talking about?” You asked looking back and forth between the man and Wade until a gloved finger fell on your lips silencing you.

“Shush child Marvel Jesus is talking.”

“What the fuck?” You whispered, pushing his hand away.

“You can’t send her back Paradox.”

“Oh I can and I will.” The man, Paradox, had said as one of his armed men came up to him handing him one of those electric baton stick things you had seen earlier. You immediately tensed up, as he started to approach you with it, not knowing what it would do to you on contact.

“No wait wait wait please just hang on a fucking second!” Wade shouted, it was one of rare times he got serious and it made your hair stand on end

“What now Mr. Wilson?” Mr. Paradox asked, groaning dramatically, as if all of this was just a giant waste of his time

“W-what can I do to fix it? The timeline?”

Timeline? What the fuck was happening? You thought confused as you looked back at Wade again as he stared down Mr. Paradox

“Nothing unless you can bring Wolverine back to life in the next,” he says nonchalantly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world as he checks his watch “96 hours. But that’s impossible to-“

That little bit of information was enough to get the cogs in Wade’s brain turning as he hatched a play.

“Say less, I’m on it like a car bonnet!” Wade said cheerfully, you had no idea what the fuck that many but whatever it was Wade had set his mind too it and once his mind was set nothing was going to get in his way.

“Mr. Wilson-“ Mr. Paradox had started to say but before he could get another word out, Wade lunges forward and headbutts him full force, breaking his nose on contact, knocking him out as he snatched up the strange remote device Paradox had had in his hands.

Before you could even blink, Wade grabs you, scooping you up into his side, right under his armpit, as he opens up another one of those orange portal doors and jumps right through it with you.

The other side of the portal opens up midair and you crash land in the middle of a frozen forest. The ground and trees around you, covered in a powdery dusting of snow as a harsh wind blows over you causing you to shiver slightly, as you go to sit up you find yourself unable to move as a sharp pain shoots up your right arm.

It took a few moments to realize Wade had landed with you, more like on top of you it seemed, until you heard him groan from your back.

“I gotta get better at opening those things.” He groans, getting up.

“Sorry sugar lumps, we didn't really stick the landing there.” He said stretching his sore limbs as he gestured to your arm. It was bent at an awkward angle behind you, most definitely broken. Standing to your feet you grab at the injured appendage, popping it back into place with a loud snap and a yelp before it has a chance to heal wrong

“Ok Wade I’ve had enough of this Leon and Helena bullshit-“ you panted out still reeling from the pain of your arm.

“Ha! Resident Evil 6 humor!”

“Enough! Please just tell me what’s going on?!” You finally snap as you pull your cardigan around yourself in an attempt to block out the cold. Wade looks you over as if contemplating what to say next before he groans, running a gloved hand over his mask.

“Ah shit where do I even start?” He says as he sits down on a pile of rocks that had a makeshift stick x on top that looks suspiciously like a grave, you chose not to comment on it, as he begins to explain what had transpired over the last hour.

Apparently he was Marvel Jesus, you still didn’t get that part, and your timeline was dying. How? You weren’t entirely sure but Wade kept mumbling under his breath about some “Aussie fuck stealing his thunder from down under”, and that Mr. Paradox guy, who’s in charge of those TVA bastards that kidnapped you and Wade, was in charge of overseeing it but instead of letting it die out naturally over the next hundred years or so was going to speed up the process and now Wade only had 96 hours to fix it before everyone you knew and loved died.

“Which is why we’re here!” He said cheerfully pulling two shovels out of nowhere. Looking behind him to see where the shovels had intact come from you missed as he took a sip from his newly acquired ‘I Like Me’ mug through his mask before tossing it. “Grab your shovel jelly bean, we're hunting a Wolverine!” He said tossing the second shovel at your feet as he pulls the makeshift x grave marker from the pile of stones and starts to dig.

As soon as he said that you felt your stomach drop to your ass. That was a grave behind him, and it wasn’t just anyone’s… it was the Wolverine’s. You were digging up Wolverine to save your timeline?

“Holy shit.”

To say you idolized the guy was an understatement. When you were a kid you had all kinds of Wolverine comics and stickers, hell you still had a pair of Wolverine underwear to this day. Digging up his grave after all this time, after all that he went through in life just felt…wrong.

“You can cream your spinach later, right now we need to see if widdle Wolvie is really taking a dirt nap or not.” Chunks of dirt flew through the air as Wade kept digging, completely absorbed in his task.

“Wade this is-“ Not right you wanted to say. You start feeling your anxiety bubble up in your chest. “I can’t-!”

The sound of his shovel hitting something metal, adamantium, stopped you in your place. Tapping his shovel twice more to make sure he had actually hit something and that it wasn’t just his imagination, Wade looked over to you before turning back to what he had found, wiping away the dirt, he stared down at the now exposed decaying metallic skull of the Wolverine.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Wade stare at the corpse for a moment, lost in thought, before he raised his shovel over his head and bought it down on Wolverine’s skull over and over again, not stopping until he got even frustrated and snapped the wooden handle over his knee, no doubt breaking it in the process.

“Damn it! Son of a bitch! Fuck! Motherfucker! My world is fucked!”

He screamed, throwing the pieces of the shovel and swinging his arms as he punched at the air. It had been a long time since you had seen him this serious, albeit the last time you were quite literally dying, and it was honestly terrifying.

Your stomach sank even further at his words. Hugging your arms to yourself in an attempt to make yourself smaller you slowly approached Wade just as he was pulling the adamantium skeleton fully from the grave, dragging it over to a downed tree as he propped it up to sit cross legged by him.

“That was weird. I’m much calmer now.” He says with a chuckle, you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or the corpse. “Look, I’m not a man of science, but you seem incredibly passed away. But it’s good to see ya.” he pats the corpse on the knee causing you to wrinkle your nose up in disgust as bile rises in your throat. You’d seen Wade do a lot of strange shit over the years of knowing him, but exhuming a grave of a fallen hero and having a one on one with his dead body was a whole new world for you.

“I gotta be honest, I’ve always wanted to ride with you, Logan. You and me, getting into everything. Just fucking shit up. Can you imagine the fun, the chaos, the residuals?”

You didn’t even want to know what he meant by that as you crept up next to Wade, kneeling down by his side.

“G’day, mate? There’s nothing that’ll bring me back to life faster than a big bag of metal cash.” Wade placed a finger under the corpse’s chin making its mandible move up and down as if he was talking to him, you put your arm on his to get him to stop but he just kept going as he moved to hold his masked head in his hands.

“No, no, no, no, uuuugh!” He groans dramatically as he throws his head back, thumping it on the tree trunk behind him. “He had to get all noble and die for real. God damn it! We coulda really used your help right about now Hugh.”

“Wade,” you said softly as you reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder, “we’ll figure something out, there’s got to be another way right?”

Wade’s masked face turns to look at you, deep in thought, before the sound of multiple approaching footsteps pulls him out of his head. Pulling you until you were tucked between him and the tree truck, he peeks over the tree before ducking back down just as fast, cursing under his breath.

“Wade Winston Wilson! You’re under arrest by the Time Variance Authority for too many crimes to count, come out!” Came a booming voice over the chill of the air. You and Wade look at each other for a moment as if deciding what to do.

“This is your last chance! Throw out your weapons and come out peacefully!” The voice said again as he and a bunch of other TVA agents began to surround you.

You look Wade in his eyes again and nod, knowing he’s going to have to fight to get you both out of there. Looking around himself for anything you could use to defend yourself, his eyes land on the adamantium skeleton sitting nearby and he gets a horribly morbid idea.

“I’m not gonna give you my weapons! But I promise not to use them.” He shouts back as he turns back towards you, placing a hand on your head. “Ok Nugget you know the drill.” He says so that only you can hear.

“You go right, I go left.” You nod your head towards the tree line in the background on your left.

“Good girl.” He pats you on the head one last time, tucking baby knife into your hand. “Maximum effort.” He grunted as you both stood, jumping into action. You break to the left as fast as your feet can carry you just as Wade jumps over the tree trunk pulling Wolverine's body with him.

Hearing rapid footfalls following close behind you try to pick up the pace, your lungs burning as you run, just as you reach the woods a gloved hand reaches out tangling itself in your locs before yanking you backwards. You hit the snow covered ground with an audible thud. Your head ringing and vision blurred from the impact. Just as your eyes were starting to clear, that rapid thumping noise from before came back with a vengeance.

Shaking your head to clear it you try and get back up to your feet until a black boot, steps down on your shoulder harshly. Above you stood a TVA agent, his stick pointed right at you as he glared down at you. Just as he began to lower it, you pulled baby knife from your boot, stabbing it as hard as you could through his foot.

He screams in pain as he stumbles backwards falling on his ass as he goes to pull out the knife. Scrambling back up you yank the knife from his foot before embedding it in his exposed neck. Pulling the knife back out again the fall back on your ass in shock at what you just did. You killed someone and hadn’t even hesitated. Sure you had see your fair share of people dying, thanks mostly to Wade, but never had you actually been the one doing the killing.

Before you have a chance to wallow anymore to yourself, you hear a body thud next to you and jump.

“My bad!” Wade calls as he smacks a TVA agent across the face with something that looked suspiciously like a metal femur, shattering his helmet and mostly his face on impact. “Wolverining is hard!”

“Wolverine was a hero and the only thing worth a shit to ever come out of Canada!” Shouted a voice from in front of you two, it was the same guy from before, the one who you tackled through the portal earlier, and he looked pissed. Before he had a chance to say anything else a katana goes bouncing off the ground and right through the guy’s mouth.

“Get my country’s name out of your fucking mouth.” Wade said as he walked up to the still standing body, pulling his sword out of his mouth. “And my sword, gimme that.”

Cleaning off the blade with his sleeve, Wade looks you over, checking you for injuries, something he couldn’t break himself from doing, no matter how much you told him you could heal, before pulling you to your feet.

“We gotta find us another Logan, an alive one.” He said looking around himself assessing the overall damage.

“How?” You question still trying to quiet the pounding in your head, it was starting to fade out now, only being a low murmur at the point, but it still made it hard to focus.

Pulling something from his belt, Wade holds up the remote looking device he had stolen from Mr. Paradox earlier between wiggling fingers.

“This my dear bestest pal is how.” He said opening it up and hitting a few buttons. Another orange portal opens and you stare at it in contemplation, nervousness grips your stomach as you think about what the two of you would get into on the other side of the portal. Wade goes through first holding out a hand for you from the other side. Swallowing down rising anxiety, you take up his hand following him through.

On the other side of the portal the atmosphere is much warmer, you're both in a club, a nice one at that, surrounded by other people as they mingle and converse by the bar.

“Logan I’m gonna need you to come with us!” Wade spoke over the music. Looking around the room, you wonder which of these people he was talking to, none of them really looked like a Wolverine to you.

“Who’s asking?” came a familiar voice from the bar. Turning to look to see who it was that said that, you were shocked to see a guy, about your height, with a crazy hairy torso, wearing a tight fitted black v-neck.

His face definitely screamed Wolverine to you but there was something about this man that just struck you as off.

“Look at this little Mary Lou Retton. Did you stick the landing little guy? Yes, you did, comic-accurate short king.” Wade cooed to him from your side in a baby voice as he crouched down dramatically.

You frowned up as Wade as he mocked him, definitely planning to ream him out later when you, yourself, was the same height as the man he was making fun of. This Wolverine stares at you, recognition and another emotion in his eyes, that you weren’t sure of as his nostrils flared and they took in yours and Wade’s, no doubt horrific, scents. Just as you were about to tell Wade that this Wolverine would work, another orange portal opens up behind you and he dragging you inside with him.

“Cue the fucking montage, baby.”

#logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine #platonic deadpool x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #hugh jackman #like a prayer

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mythicmanuscripts · 1 month

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Crybaby Aegon has to be one of the canon hc there is. Maybe something like Aegon thinking his wife or a brothel worker he’s been taken with is being distant and he panics and thinks he did something wrong. When in truth they probably have just had a lot to think about lately or just didn’t notice. Following up with a lot of attention and reassuring?

In NSFW form I feel like reader would probably tell Aegon to let her show him how much she cherishes him, gives him a bunch of kisses during love making and soft praises

God I love crybaby!aegon. I ended up doing this with wife!reader but I'd be happy to discuss a similar topic with a brothel worker if you guys would want that, so just let me know!

There's nothing too explicit in this but there's definitely some implied sexual content and also is definitely sub!aegon so I'll hide it behind a cut just in case

I think this is something that could happen very easily once your marriage with Aegon starts to become more of a proper relationship?? Once Aegon starts to submit to you, it's like a switch flips in his head and he has absolutely zero interest in anyone else ever. Of course he's also very needy.

The biggest problem is that once Aegon starts subbing, you really have to make sure to keep a close eye on him because he so desperately wants to please you. Especially in the start when he's still feeling like he'll never be good enough for anything and certainly not good enough to keep someone like you in love.

Aegon feeds off your energy and praise, his entire face lighting up every time you give him attention. You're the only person whose guidance doesn't feel patronising or insulting, and you just make him feel so safe.

He hates being away from you and that's especially try the day after he's done something intense with you. So maybe this happens after the first thing really intense kink thing you did? Like maybe you use pain play for the first time or bondage or very intense overstimulation. Whatever it is, it leaves Aegon floating in subspace and feeling absolutely incredible.

But then the next day he wakes up to an empty bed. You had told him the night before that there was a breakfast you had to attend with some other nobles, but of course this slips his mind completely because he's still groggy and he thought he'd get to spend the morning cuddling.

Aegon has never experienced anything as intense and hardcore as what you did the night before and while of course he absolutely loved it, he now suddenly doesn't feel so good because you weren't there when he woke. If this were later on in the relationship then he would have no problem ordering a guard to track you down and bring you back on the king's orders.

But this is only the start, where Aegon just starting submitting properly but he's still not sure how much he can ask for outside of the bedroom. So the poor thing little thing just hugs your pillow and tries not to cry until eventually a servant arrives inform him that it is time to get dressed and start the day. He does this of course, mostly because he knows you don't want him avoiding his duties.

Throughout the morning he keeps on glancing around, trying to see where you are because surely you would come find him? Right? You wouldn't just leave him alone all day? Would you?

Your day ends being one chaotic mess after another, and you don't get to see Aegon at all.

Aegon, meanwhile, is now starting to think he did something wrong or disappointed you in some way. He starts to think back to the night before, of how he clung to you afterwards and how you had to hold him tight and wipe away his tears. At the time, he felt safe and good and the right side of overwhelmed. He felt like you really cared and would take good care of him, but now that he hasn't seen you all day he begins to wonder if maybe he was wrong about that? Maybe you weren't pleased.

You dont know any of this is ongoing because you're far too busy putting out fires left right and centre.

Eventually when the day comes to an end and you sit down for dinner, aegon isnt there? You ask Aemond and Alicent and they both say they haven't seen him. A guards steps in then and says the king has requested to have dinner in his chambers. That immediately sets off alarm bells in your head and you tell the guard to ensure your dinner is also served in your chambers and then quickly run up to him.

You find him on the bed sitting crossed legged and hugging your pillow. He looks so small like that, like you could break him in half with one finger.

He looks up when you enter and he's apologising before you can even close the door. You have no idea what he's on about, but he's clearly upset and far too worked up to explain right then so you just grab him and pull him into a hug until he can form coherent sentences again.

Once this ability returns to him, he mumbles his apologies again and promises to be less needy. You still have no idea what he's going on about and when you say this, he eventually manages to get out that he thought you were avoiding him because he did something bad last night.

It breaks you heart to realise your darling sub went the whole day thinking he had upset you when that wouldnt be further from the truth. You explain that to him and he starts crying again, but this time it's relief.

The next morning you have a talk with him about it and he explains how bad he felt after waking up alone. You suggest a new rule that you always spend at least the morning with him if you've done somehow particularly hardcore the night before and while aegon tries to say this isnt necessary at first, he can't deny how much that would help him.

I think in the end you end up having to tell him that he's your good boy, and so you have to look after your good boy. If he needs you to stay with him the next morning, then that is exactly what he will get because he's your darling.

#sub!aegon #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon smut #aegon the second #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #king aegon #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon imagine

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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 years

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Hii, I was wondering if you could possibly write about what kind of p*rn you think Ghost and König like? (And other characters if you want! )it’s just been floating around my head for days and you’re one of my favorite writers. If not, that’s totally fine! 💛💛💛

MW2 and Their P0rn Preferences

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of P0rn0graphy (none shown), Mention of Poor Mental Health, P0rn w/ Feelings, P0rn w/o Feelings, BDSM, Knife Play, Breeding Kink, Historical P0rn, Mention of Hardcore Lesbian P0rn, Mentions of Masturbation, University Lecturer/Student Relationship, Body Worship, Daddy Kink, Sadism, Mentions of Torture P0rn, Mention of Sex Tape, Mention of Insecurity, Mention of Alcohol, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, Profanity, etc.

A/N: Tysm, Anon <3 ! Also, I’ve changed any mentions of the subject material to p0rn as to skirt around any potential censorship issues.

Ghost:

Given the absolute S T A T E of this man’s mental health, I think he secretly watches p0rn for the plot.

No, really. I mean he genuinely watches p0rn for the storyline; though not just any storyline.

It has to have feeling, romance. Love.

Though he’d never, ever, EVER admit it, he watches it to fill an emotional void in his life rather than a sexual one (ejaculation is just a bonus - he sees it as more of a duty to his body’s needs rather than his personal ones).

Definitely favours p0rn where it features a couple who have reunited after a long stretch of time and…well, have at it.

He found that there’s a startling lack of this in the men’s category, though, so he goes and finds it in the women’s because p0rn there is a lot softer, much more sensual, and doesn’t feel as creepy.

Ghost isn’t a fan of typical straight p0rnography; he thinks it’s too violent and unrealistic.

Instead, he watches ones where the couple aren’t just fucking or having sex - they’re making love.

And, really, beneath all the death and decay and bloodshed his life has become buried under, Ghost wants what those couples have.

Maybe if he knows you and likes you, he’ll jack off to the thought of you in those situations with him - absolutely even more so if you’re his partner.

Ghost would NEVER divulge the actual p0rnography he consumes - not even to Soap.

Whenever the guys back at Base would try and draw the truth out of him - Johnny especially - he’d tell them to “Pipe the fuck down” and “Get back to work.”

However, if he were a little loose-lipped via the aid of booze, he’ll cast the 141 a false line.

And when Johnny comes asking him what his preferences are again, Ghost won’t even cast him a second glance as the lie spills between his lips as he, Simon Riley, with all the conviction of a man accused of a false crime, says “Hardcore lesbian.”

And nobody will think to even question it.

König:

If he’s in a dom mood, something hardcore, though nothing outright sadistic; especially if he’s just returned from a mission.

Instead it’ll be, at most, some bondage, maybe some marking here and there - really nothing too wild.

He saves that for when he’s with you.

On the contrary, if he’s feeling a little raw from his time away but still needs to relieve himself, he’ll watch something similar to Ghost in that whatever he chooses to jank himself off to has to have a storyline. And love.

Though, his may be just a smidge more softcore than Ghost’s in that maybe the more dominantly perceived of the couple bottoms on occasion, or there just isn’t as much sex in favour of a richer storyline.

Most of the time, König actually never makes it to the stage of jacking off because he’s so invested in where the protagonists’ relationship is going and starts getting emotional.

This happens if you’re away and not within his immediate vicinity because he can only think of yours and his relationship.

98% of the time, he gets to the end of the video, realises he’s gone half limp, and just decides to go and watch a rom-com instead.

But don’t be fooled.

The second you arrive home, he’ll be on you like a blanket.

And he is not letting you go until both your needs are met.

Soap:

Something conventional yet with a distinct Johnny twist to it.

I can see him reading Playboy mags, for one, though this is more to get himself hard rather than to alleviate himself with.

He goes for something stronger when he wants to get himself off.

Definitely into the whole jealousy/possessiveness trope, so anything where one of the leads gets jealous for one reason or another and just destroys their partner afterwards is his type of media.

Johnny strikes me as a switch with top lean, so he’s much more likely to put himself in the position of the dominant lead instead of the lead receiving punishment.

Soap definitely gets off on some degree of dumbification - more so that, when the dom lead is almost through with their partner, said partner is just a heaving, whimpering, cum-soaked mess beneath them.

That, and body worship.

Soap wants to see a loving relationship wherein the leads truly love each other and find each other physically attractive (reflecting Johnny’s relationship with you), so to see one or the other in these on-screen relationships tell the other what they love about them gets him a little hot under the collar (though the collar may have been long discarded).

That’s the home stretch that gets Johnny off.

He also watches p0rn to improve, in a way.

Occasionally, he gets a little insecure that there may come a day where he can’t meet your needs, so he uses p0rn as a training ground to make sure he’s at the top of his game.

And many practice sessions with you too, of course.

Price:

University professor x Student.

Change my mind.

No clue what brought this on in him; I feel like this may have just been something he experimented with one bored evening and found that it worked, so he just kept consuming it. Or, it phased into his psyche after being so high in the chain of command for so long.

Either way, he usually can only get off to being in a position of dominance and power.

Though, he does have other preferences when it comes to how he asserts this dominance.

Sometimes he’ll watch historic p0rn (stay with me on this) where there’s a couple in the 40’s - one of whom is a soldier, the other the caretaker of their shared house - who are able to return to each other.

And then they…well, what couples who’ve been separated by war and worry usually do in these circumstances.

I feel like Price may have a preference for the couple being straight, but only for the aspect of one of them being a traditional housewife who the soldier wants to start a family with.

Pretty wholesome concept. Pretty unwholesome execution.

Price isn’t a fan of violent p0rnography, so it’s pretty ordinary and vanilla, but it satiates his breeding kink.

And my god, does this man have a breeding kink.

Not that anyone else on Base knows that.

They know literally nothing about his sexual preferences, and, given he’s their superior, they rarely push the issue when he shuts it down.

Alejandro:

Slow and sensual wins the race.

Man loves a good story – especially if it starts with an argument and one of the leads having to comfort the other by…making it up to them.

Alejandro’s an intense, romantic man, so it would stand to reason that his p0rnographic preferences would match his personality.

Definitely into body worship and praising, both giving and receiving.

The top lead has to be attentive to the sub lead’s needs, to the point that there are slivers of tears running down their cheeks because they feel so good.

Alejandro also has an unintentional preference for edging.

He won’t let himself finish until the sub lead has first; out of habit more than anything else.

If you walk in on him watching it, he’ll be absolutely shameless.

Will beckon you over with a dashing smile and say something to the effect of: “Mi amor, come here. My lap is lonely without you in it.”

Only uses p0rn as a last resort; so if you’re asleep, or away, or just don’t feel like having sex that night, Alejandro will excuse himself and do his business in the next room.

Nothing compares to you, though; these encounters with nameless couples on a screen cannot hold a candle’s light to the flaming glory of euphoria Alejandro feels whenever he is near you, never mind inside you.

And he reminds you of this daily.

Man’s a nymphomaniac, what can I say /j.

Gaz:

For him, it changes.

He’s the youngest in the 141 so he’s more likely than the rest to experiment (the least likely being Price because he’s found his genre lol).

So, really, it is very difficult to pin down his preferences.

However, I will say he takes a liking to p0rn that is very much unexpected.

I mean Hollywood-tier movie twists and turns that would have any outside observer assume that Gaz was just watching an action film the perfect cover.

He did take a fancy to skydiving p0rn once (just people doing it in the air while they’re skydiving - don’t ask how).

But when the crippling reality of how that would work logistically crossed Gaz’s 500 IQ mind, he lost his passion for it.

Let’s just say, whipping your ween out at that altitude with that much pressure against you while falling at a solid 130 mph is more likely to result in the appendage being taken by the wind than anything else.

Aside from that, Gaz has the widest range of tastes in the 141 since he experiments the most.

He has found he has the strongest preference for threesomes.

Only because he’s kind of fascinated by the concept and how much coordination it would take to execute the whole operation.

It genuinely actually started when he couldn’t get to sleep one night and had to go online to read up on the logistics – how these throuples worked and the statistics associated with them.

And now, here we are; crippling p0rn addiction.

I am actually joking; Gaz doesn’t even jack off the most out of the 141.

Graves:

Threesomes, orgies, gangbangs - you name it, he’ll enjoy it.

Superiority complex; he needs to feel in control over as many people as possible.

As most CEOs do.

As such, anything where the lead is in control is his go-to, though he won’t watch straight-up torture p0rn.

However, the lead is typically disproportionately stronger than the co-lead, so you can take that to mean that Graves watches generic p0rn targeted towards the male mass market; so usually something rough with a storyline so flimsy and thin that the terrible acting is made ever more transparent. Apparent.

Graves looks to p0rn only to fulfil himself; if he wants to feel loved or worshipped he’ll just go to you.

When you’re unavailable, however, he’ll just jerk off to the infinite stream of p0rn he has.

Or, considering how rich he is, he’ll get you to make a sex tape with him and just watch that.

Man’s got the money to make it happen; he ain’t janking it to a 144p video of low-quality blocks doing it.

Into body worship (as previously mentioned).

Also really into foreplay.

His favourite’s a kidnapping scenario. No clue why, I didn’t wanna ask. But I get the distinct impression it has to do, yet again, with his superiority complex.

(Daddy Kink Enjoyer; don’t tell him I told you that).

Valeria:

H A R D C O R E P O R N

Seriously, the amount of sheer sadism and violence it takes to get her off is concerning.

It comes with the territory; you run a cartel, you lose a bit of humanity; it’s the way of the world.

If you’re not around, Valeria will take to watching some of the most toe-curling, gut-wrenching p0rn you’ve never seen.

I’m talking hard BDSM, knife play, blood play - you name it; if it’s violent, Valeria will most likely have gotten off to it.

Has gotten off to security footage of her torture sessions with her victims before now.

However, she isn’t like that with you (unless you want her to be).

If you prefer her to be more gentle, she’ll simply just go and watch p0rn to satiate her more adventurous needs, saving her soft, loving, tender side for you and you alone.

But, if you want to experiment, Valeria will put all that she has acquired through torturing and p0rn consumption and take you on a one-way trip to pound town.

Big fan of lesbian p0rn, regardless of whether she’s actively in a relationship with a woman or not.

For this specific genre, she loves seeing women in strap-ons.

Just does something to her (call it feminism).

Also a big fan of heavy bondage, marking and intimidation.

She simply enjoys dominion over everyone, regardless of gender, identity – it doesn’t matter to her.

And you are no different.

However, she’d never actually hurt you - not in ways you didn’t want her to.

Because, at the end of the day, she loves you more than life itself and would buy the stars to see them sparkle in your smiling eyes.

Rodolfo:

Accidentally clicked on a pop-up for a free iPad once and it was all over from there.

I'm kidding (mostly).

Rudy doesn't jack off very often, what with his work and physical training taking up so much of his time.

As such, his tastes aren't fully developed as of yet, so he's still at the stage where seeing two people sat on the same sofa is too much for him.

Jkjk. But not too far off the mark.

Rudy will watch whatever's popular at the time, but only because he doesn't know what else he likes, and so doesn't actively go searching for it.

He can't stand bad acting.

He understands that it comes with the territory of consuming p0rn, but he doesn't see it as an excuse to be lax when it comes to the believability of the story and the acting.

When he eventually gets sick and tired of it, he'll just go and read an erotic novel.

Has become somewhat of a connoisseur of the erotic book genre; he has favourite authors, authors he wouldn't touch with a barge pole, preferred genres, etc.

His favourite genre at the moment is friends to enemies to lovers reconciliation novels.

Just loves how, no matter how bad things may seem during the book, everything comes together at the end :-).

Everyone gets a happy ending, everything is resolved.

Secretly, he actually enjoys these novels for the story rather than the sexual content.

Please protect him, he's so wholesome <3.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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padfootagain · 13 days

Text

Love in Verses (IX)

Chapter 9 : 'I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river- where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues'

Hi! Here is another chapter! Saoirse is back, and our babies are making some evil plans…

I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 1798

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Lilies

I have been thinking about living like the lilies that blow in the fields.

They rise and fall in the edge of the wind, and have no shelter from the tongues of the cattle,

and have no closets or cupboards, and have no legs. Still I would like to be as wonderful

as the old idea. But if I were a lily I think I would wait all day for the green face

of the hummingbird to touch me. What I mean is, could I forget myself

even in those feathery fields? When Van Gogh preached to the poor of coarse he wanted to save someone--

most of all himself. He wasn't a lily, and wandering through the bright fields only gave him more ideas

it would take his life to solve. I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river--

where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues-- where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss, just rises and floats away.

Mary Oliver

So, this was Pr. Hozier- Byrne…

H-B, or Hozier like everyone on campus seemed keen to call him. Saoirse understood the hype around the man though.

His voice was soft and lulling, his explanations clear, his love for his work evident. He seemed nice, answered all the questions, had something a little shy about him that seemed to quieten when he was teaching. He exuded confidence then, on the contrary, and despite the softness in his tone, it was impossible not to listen to him babbling away about Yeats. The fact that he was handsome was also a strong argument in his favour, Saoirse couldn’t deny it. Ridiculously tall, curls falling over his shoulders, trimmed beard and glasses over green eyes… She sighed as she stared at him, sporting a grey tweed suit, turning to write something over on the board. And that deep voice… damn…

She shook herself, focused on the lecture again, took note of the date her teacher was writing on the white board. The first class was an introduction to Yeats’ life and work, the study of his texts would start next week. For now, Saoirse was carefully writing down dates and historical events and the name of the woman he would spend most of his life pinning over. And she wondered if Hozier was pinning over a woman too, if he was married, if he longed for love, if that was why he seemed to love poetry so much, because he saw his own longing in other people’s words…

She shook herself again, wrote down something about Lady Gregory and the Abbey Theatre. She was projecting her own feelings over that tall stranger, she reckoned. A dangerous activity, if there ever had been one.

Apparently, more students had chosen the class about science-fiction, but Saoirse had definitely no regrets. If the topic seemed more complicated, her teacher was determined to pass on his love for poetry. She was grateful to Gabi for convincing her to choose this class, was already happy to have chosen his lesson about modernism for the second half of the year.

Indeed, she could see that Gabi had done well in recruiting for this class. Most of the students Saoirse had seen with Gabi during orientation week were now listening to H-B explaining the use of theatre to create a common Irish identity that worked hand in hand with the growing anger that would lead to revolution. And indeed, Sean and Donald were there too. If Donald had settled a couple of rows behind her, Sean was sitting next to her, actually. He had recognised her as soon as he had entered the room, had headed straight towards her and asked if he could sit next to her. And Saoirse was happy to have someone she knew in this class too, even if they had spoken but a few hours during orientation week. She hoped they could become friends, she felt a little lonely in this new adult world.

The lecture went on and was over too soon, a feeling Saoirse had not been expecting for any of her lectures. As she packed up her things, she noticed that Gabi was at the door, eyeing the students inside, and she gave Saoirse a wave when their gazes met. Sean and Saoirse hurried out of the room.

“Hey! How are my wee students doing?” Gabi asked with a grin.

“Doing okay, so far!” Saoirse answered with a smile. “Didn’t even get lost this morning!”

“What an achievement!” Gabi laughed good-heartedly. “Saw that you were having a class with H-B this morning, my next lecture starts in fifteen minutes, just down the hall. Thought I’d come see you all, check on you.”

“We’re fine, thanks,” Sean nodded with a smile.

Donald joined them as well, and they chatted happily for a couple of minutes.

“There’s a party planned at the end of the week, to celebrate the beginning of the year. You should come!”

“Huh… sure! Sounds good.”

If Saoirse was feeling a little shy, Donald was already asking questions about the drinks and the music.

Gabi was about to answer him when she was distracted by someone walking behind Saoirse and Sean, and she immediately grinned.

“Good morning, professor!”

The younger students turned around and politely smiled at their teacher, while he beamed at Gabi.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t our favourite troublemaker…” he teased, eyes sparkling with mischief. “How are you doing, Gabi? How was your summer?”

“It was good! Busy, lots of things to plan to make sure I can turn all our new recruits into proper menaces!”

Andrew laughed, shaking his head playfully.

“Oh, I bet you have tons of ideas for that… but don’t scare our students away too soon, alright?”

He quickly checked his watch.

“Gotta run, but it was nice seeing you. Will I see you on Thursday then?”

“You know me… how could I say no to a class about protest poetry?”

Andrew’s smile brightened even more.

“Grand. I’m glad to have you as a student again this year.”

He excused himself then, bidding all four students a nice day, and they stared as he walked away, his long legs devouring the distance between the classroom and the exit of the building in mere seconds.

“He’s so nice!” Saoirse sighed. “Thanks for recommending this class to us.”

“He is. And Christ… he’s a sight for sore eyes.”

They all laughed at that, and went on to chat for a while longer, until Gabi had to head to her own class.

Saoirse could feel it, it would be a good year.

Andrew hurried back to your office, knowing that you were waiting for him. And indeed, when he arrived, you had already taken your sandwich out of your bag and were focused on your computer screen.

You greeted him with a smile when he quickly stepped into the room.

“Sorry, ran into a student I know well. Okay… what are our options?”

Andrew took off his vest, took out of his bag his own sandwich and his water bottle, before pushing his chair next to yours so he could look at your screen as well.

Frank was asking for advices about flower arrangements, for the wedding but also for a party they wanted to organise a few weeks before the wedding, some kind of huge get-together with family and friends to celebrate their engagement. Sam and Frank seemed to treat the event as some kind of rehearsal for their big day, and wanted to decorate the place in a similar way they would use for the ceremony.

A perfect occasion to raise chaos and mayhem…

“Frank has already narrowed down our choices… meaning that he took out anything with carnations or calla lilies, he doesn’t like those. I’ve tried to probe to know Sam’s taste, but he seems clueless.”

“Are we surprised by that?” Andrew mumbled under his breath, something bitter in his tone. “Sam’s favourite flowers are white lilies, and she hates pink and yellow roses.”

“Okay, so… can we find any pink and yellow roses in those…”

Andrew chuckled before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“You’re kind of terrifying, Machiavelli…”

“One of my favourite books is about getting stuck in hell and watching people being tortured,” you reminded him, making Andrew laugh and glimpse over at the picture you had hung on the wall.

“Right… my bad. I shouldn’t underestimate your evil nature, clearly.”

“Unless you’re ready to face the consequences…” you added with false threat in your voice, while you were clearly struggling to hold back your laughter.

“Don’t turn me into anything… unnatural.”

You froze, turned to him.

“Was that a Lord of the Rings reference?” you asked with utter surprise evident on your features.

“Obviously,” Andrew smiled, something cheeky and cute at the same time, clearly pleased with himself.

“God… I love the Lord of the Rings!”

“Who doesn’t?!”

“Frank.”

Andrew huffed, but said nothing. He thought the words all the same… what a tasteless gobshite…

“Why am I not surprised?” was his answer instead, and you chuckled at his words.

“Yeah… he does have a few red flags,” you conceded.

“Hmm… but the fact that we’re plotting together against our exes is kind of a red flag, isn’t it? A scarlet one if I’ve ever seen one…”

“Is it worse than not liking the Lord of the Rings?”

Andrew couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his mouth.

“Nah, we’re good,” he joked, making you laugh.

And he liked the sound. Almost three weeks had passed since Sam and Frank had announced their engagement and Andrew and you were spending more and more time together. You had planned some things to get to talk to your exes, or just as you were doing today, to mess up with their wedding. Which meant seeing you outside the university, eating his lunch with you, talking over the phone sometimes…

And Andrew liked it. He liked that your dynamic was back on a friendly rhythm instead of something merely professional. You were nice, and hilarious, and so fucking smart. He hoped you would remain friends after all this. He hoped you would become good friends, with a bit of time.

“Oh, this one is so ugly…” you giggled at the picture on your screen, something pink and over the top, with a lot of roses…

“Oh, yeah… that’s the one. Send him this one.”

“Frank asked me for a favour by the way… he wanted me to go fishing for information about Sam’s tastes in flowers.”

“You mean… asking me about it?”

You nodded, and Andrew let out a wry laugh.

“What did you tell him?”

“That I wouldn’t have the opportunity to ask you today as our classes would keep us busy. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to play the perfect boyfriend and come to the rescue, and offer to use her favourite flowers.”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course!”

You both laughed, eating your sandwiches. And then the conversation drifted away from Sam and Frank, settled on your classes, on work, on the movie he had watched on Sunday, on the walk you had taken with Siobhán and how much you would miss her when she would be gone.

And Andrew still felt a hole in his chest, the weight of something hollow, of a piece missing, because of Samantha. But when he was with you, the grief didn’t seem so heavy, the pain so aching. The emptiness in his heart seemed a little less empty when you were around. God knew he missed Samantha, that he wanted her back. But at least, you made him feel human again. He reckoned you were the only one to make him properly laugh these days.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier series #hozier fic #fanfiction #fanfic #series #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au #writing

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scottishaccentsareawesome · 7 months

Text

Ice told Mav that he'd take this one, after getting the call from Penny.

So, when Ice walks into the Hard Deck, his eyes immediately start searching the room for Bradley, and find him in the back at the pool table.

He heads to the back area of the bar, catching Penny's eye on the way and giving her a wink. When Ice gets to the pool table area he sees that Bradley is not actually alone, he's there with Lieutenant "Bob" Floyd, who looks about as hopeless as Penny sounded on the phone earlier.

Bob suddenly notices Ice's presence, and he stands up a bit straighter as Ice gives him a nod of acknowledgement.

...All the while, Bradley just keeps playing pool and grumbling loudly to himself.

"Sir - " Bob begins.

" - Dismissed."

"Oh, thank you sir..." Bob replies, sounding extremely relieved as he leaves the pool table and heads to the bar.

"Bradley...?" Ice leans over the pool table and tries to get in Bradley's line of sight "...talk to me, please."

"Nothin' to talk about," Bradley replied, as he lined up his shot, then hit the ball over to the middle pocket, and it bounced off the edge of the pocket, missing the target. "You gonna play? Looks like Bob couldn't take the heat."

"I think what Bob couldn't take was the headache you were giving him," said Ice, as he picked up the abandoned pool cue.

"What?"

"Bradley, half the bar can hear you grumbling over here," Ice told him. "You've got black storm clouds floating right over your head for God's sake. What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Bradley insisted. "Now are you gonna play or not?"

Ice shrugged. "Sure," he said.

Ice lined up his shot, and sunk two balls into the far corner pocket, like it was absolutely nothing.

Bradley rolled his eyes as Ice straightened up and tried not to look smug.

"...But I guarantee, with the way I play and the way you seem to be playing right now, it's gonna be a pretty short game," Ice told him.

Bradley sighed. "I'm just a little off tonight, no big deal," he said.

"Any particular reason why?"

"No."

Ice gave him a pointed look.

Bradley huffed. "Just having...issues with...someone," he grumbled.

"Relationship issues?"

"It's not a relationship," Bradley countered, quickly.

"Then what is it?"

"It's....he....he left for a deployment in Italy today," Bradley grumbled. "And I went over to see him just to say goodbye, y'know, and it turned into 'Oh, Rooster, I didn't know you cared?' and so of course I was like, 'I don't care, just send my apologies to all those poor Italian people who'll have to endure your presence for the next few months.' And then it turned into talking about all the Italian guys he was gonna meet over there, and how they'd probably happily 'endure' his 'presence', and then I got mad, so I just kinda left."

"So, you didn't actually get to say goodbye then?" Ice pointed out.

"No, I guess not," said Bradley. "I just...it's so easy for him to just...annoy me like that, and then...stupid Italian guys - "

"So, your problem is that you don't want Jake Seresin to hang around with hot Italian guys, is that it?" Ice asked.

Bradley froze, and stared at Ice.

"...I never said anything about Jake Seresin," he said.

"Bradley, all you ever do is talk about Jake Seresin," Ice told him. "Did the two of you really think you were being discrete?"

"We were being - !" Bradley started, then clamped his lips together for a moment. "...It's always just been a casual thing. Nothing serious or official."

"...But now he's going to Italy," said Ice "...and he might be hanging around with 'hot Italian guys', and you don't like that."

"It's not like he's never been deployed without me before," said Bradley. "It's not like I haven't had to deal with feeling like this before. And I have! I've dealt with it just fine."

"Well, maybe this time is different because you're hitting a breaking point," said Ice. "Maybe, it's time you two finally had a serious talk about this 'casual thing' of yours."

"Why do you say 'casual thing' like that?" Bradley asked. "Like you're judging?"

"I'm not judging it, Bradley. I've been down that road myself before," Ice told him. "And I'm saying 'casual thing' like that because if you're feeling so troubled at the thought of him with somebody else, then maybe it's not a very 'casual' thing at all."

Bradley blew out a long, tired breath, as he stared at the pool table, supposedly looking for another shot.

"One thing I do know for sure, though..." said ice, as he walked around the table to stand beside Bradley "...is that Jake Seresin will not be 'meeting' any hot Italian guys."

Bradley glanced over at him and smirked. "What, you really gonna try and cockblock him from here?" he asked.

"Don't doubt my powers, Bradley Bradshaw, I'm the Commander of the Pacific Fleet, I can do a lot of things," Ice told him. "...Just ask Maverick."

Bradley snorted back a laugh.

"No, I mean, he may talk a big game about what he's gonna do over there, but I guarantee you, he's not gonna do any of it," Ice told him. "He doesn't want to."

"How do you know?" Bradley asked.

"Because I've been him, Bradley," Ice told him. "First he wanted to beat you and be the best pilot, then he wanted to bed you and prove that you wanted him...and now he's trying not to fall in love with you."

Bradley didn't say anything, he actually looked a little terrified now.

"And Bradley," Ice continued. "I guarantee, he may've won those first two rounds, but that last one?" Ice leaned in now and lowered his voice so that only Bradley could hear him "...I think you'll both find that he lost it a long time ago."

Bradley still didn't say anything, so Ice just smiled and straightened up, then put his pool cue back against the wall.

"Work on your game, kid," said the older man. "I'll see you at dinner on Sunday."

Ice then gave him a wave, and walked away, out of the bar.

Bradley thought for a moment, then pulled out his phone as he sat down on a nearby stool.

Can we talk when you get back? he texted.

He only had to wait about a minute before he got a reply.

Sure. You miss me already? (with a smirking emoji, of course)

Bradley took a deep breath, then sent back his reply.

...Yeah. I do.

#tgm ficlet #top gun fanfic #in which tom kazansky is King #bradley is jealous and stubborn #and jake has probably been waiting for this end conversation for months #hangaroo #hangster #sereshaw #hangster ficlet #slight icemav #icemav-hangster parallels #tom kazansky #iceman kazansky #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #jake seresin #hangman seresin #this is too short to post on ao3 so I'm doing the ao3 tags here :)

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erwinsvow · 7 months

Note

Can’t stop thinking about reader when Rafe heads off with the cross at the end of s2… like imagine he doesn’t tell her anything and she thinks he’s ghosting her🙁 poor girl stuck through everything and (naively) believed he was innocent (I would too it’s ok we all have our moments) and now he just leaves her life without saying anything??

- 💓

wait this hurts!!!!! especially with a pogue reader or just a super sweet kook reader who literally has been defending him to everyone! even her parents who do not want her seeing rafe anymore... i can just imagine that heartbroken feeling and then when he comes back with a buzz and honestly soo different too, his personality changed so much in between 2 and 3. and the first time they see each other...

"you look good," rafe says, glancing over you like he always used to do, the same pretty, short dresses and cute shoes. there's a few things missing, the RC necklace you used to never take off, even when you're showering, the bracelet he got you when you two first started dating, the anklet he would always play with. it's all gone, a different necklace in its place. he can vaguely make out a new initial.

"thank you," you say quietly. you both stay silent for a minute, wondering what to say next. "your hair, it's different."

he runs a hand through his buzz, mind automatically floating back to how you used to run your fingers through his longer hair at any given opportunity-in bed about to fall asleep, on the couch watching some stupid movie together, in the back of his truck when he'd get between your legs and make you cum until you cried. then anger filters in, boiling his blood, wondering if some other guy is getting to see you like that now.

"yeah. s'hotter there, this is easier."

"i liked your long hair," you comment, smiling sweetly the way you always did towards him. you turn around, looking at some friends waiting for you. he doesn't notice a guy standing there, and he's thankful, because he doesn't think he could hold himself back if there was. "um, well, i should go." before you can turn around, he speaks again.

"i missed you. really, i did." you turn back, looking at him through watery eyes.

"really?" your voice is all choked up, which he hates. hates that you're crying and hates that he's the reason for your tears. "you missed me? that's why you didn't call or text? you disappeared."

"i had business to take care of, kid. i didn't-"

"you didn't have a phone? you couldn't write me a letter? you know how long i was here, waiting for you? everyone said i was stupid and i still waited-"

"y'not stupid-"

"yes i am rafe. i waited this whole time for you. i'm so stupid."

he gets closer, and you wish he wouldn't.

"not stupid. y'just a good girl. i'm sorry. i am, i am."

tears spill down, he wipes them away. you're sure your friends are staring, embarrassed if they see all your resolve caving in like this.

"can i ask you somethin'?" you look up, nodding. "you still waitin' for me?"

from this close, he can make out what your necklace says, the tiny little r pendant he once got you shaking as you nod your head.

#📮 asks #💓 anon #Rafe Cameron

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literaryavenger · 7 months

Text

Captain America: Civil War - 5

Summary: Team Cap gets taken to the Raft.

Pairing: Avengers x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries. Language. Mentions of Y/N. A little angst if you squint. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Thank god it took me very little to finish this one! Hope you like it!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The Raft.

That’s where they sent you after they arrested you in Germany. The fucking Raft.

You haven’t even seen Wanda since you were handed your very unstylish new clothes and they made you change.

You got separated from her when they took you to your cell between Scott's and Sam's. You dread what they're going to do to her, but you're powerless to stop them.

You sit on the ground of your cell and don’t move from there, barely registering what happens around you until the sound of clapping snaps you out of your trance.

“The Futurist, gentlemen!” Clint shouts but you still don’t move, just listening to the scene. “The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not.”

“Give me a break, Barton.” You hear Tony say and almost show some emotion, but stop yourself. “I had no idea they'd put you here. Come on.”

You hear Clint spit and then say “Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey. You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint interrupts him. “Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for. Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam, or Y/N, or Wanda. But here we are.”

“Because you broke the law.” Tony says.

“Yeah.” Clint says back and starts chanting “La la la la la” while Tony talks, making you grin slightly.

“I didn't make you. You read it, you broke it.” Tony keeps talking. “Alright, you're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side.” he says and your face falls again immediately, knowing Tony went too far.

“You gotta watch your back with this guy.” Clint says before slamming his hands on the bars angrily. “There's a chance he's gonna break it!”

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark.” You hear Scott say from the cell on your right.

“Who are you?” Tony says, his voice closer to you than before, and you can hear Scott mumbling “Come on, man.”

Tony gets to your cell and sees you sitting on the ground, hugging your knees tight to your chest, your head resting back on the wall while you look straight ahead.

Tony is nothing short of shocked when he sees your face all beat up and bruised, your arm bandaged with blood seeping through it showing just how big and deep the cut is, all courtesy of Ayo.

“I never wanted to see you like this...” Tony says softly but you don’t even react to his words.

He’s standing in front of you but it’s like he’s not even there, like you’re looking right through him to something more interesting behind him.

Tony sighs and shakes his head before moving to Sam’s cell.

“How's Rhodes?” Sam asks right away.

“They're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So… fingers cross.” Tony answers and you close your eyes, grateful that he’s still alive at least. “What do you need? They feed you yet?”

“You're the good cop now?” Sam asks almost in disbelief.

“I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.” Tony answers calmly.

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

“Oh, I just knocked the 'A' out of their 'AV'.” Tony says, much too playfully for your taste. “We got about 30 seconds before they realize it's not their equipment.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his next sentence. “Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

Your eyes snap open at his apology and, even though you can’t see either of them, you know Sam’s feeling the same way as you, which is confirmed by his next sentence. “That's a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well. You don't have to-”

“Hey, it's alright.” Sam interrupts him, then you hear him sigh and after a little pause he says “Look, I'll tell you… but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.” Tony says and Sam proceeds to tell him all about the Hydra base in Siberia and the other supersoldiers.

When Tony leaves, Sam once again tries to make sure you’re okay even if he hasn’t had luck at getting an answer out of you since you got here.

He knocks twice on the wall between you two then pauses and then knocks three more times fast before talking, a thing you two started doing since you both moved into the Avengers Compound so you would know it was the other knocking right away. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer him and can hear him sighing before continuing talking.

“Look, I’m sorry you got caught up in this and-”

“I don’t regret the choice I made, Sam.” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence, speaking up for the first time since you got arrested at the airport. “As much as this sucks, it was the right thing to do. I know it was.”

You don’t say anything else. Sam can tell you mean it and he knows better than to push you.

“They’ll be okay.” He says after a moment of silence and then lets you be.

You know he means Steve, Bucky and Tony but you can’t help but think he’s trying to reassure you that Bucky’s gonna be fine.

And you can only hope that he’s right.

A couple of weeks after Tony’s visit there’s a commotion in the prison.

You haven’t so much as made a sound since that day, aside from your daily knock on the wall between you and Sam so he can make sure you’re okay, knowing you well enough to know you don’t want to talk but still wanting to check in.

But you can’t help but let out a loud gasp when you see Steve just standing in front of your cells.

You look around when the cell doors open and you hesitantly get up from the floor and walk towards Steve. He hugs Sam, then you, then Clint and then pats Scott on the back, but doesn’t linger long before he’s guiding you towards another level where Wanda is.

You get to her just as the door to her cell opens and you rush inside with Clint to take off her collar while he takes off her straightjacket. You hug her tightly and wrap your arm around her with Clint to help her move you since she looks a little worse for wear.

You manage to move through the prison without problems. You have to hand it to Steve, he’s a hell of a criminal.

When you get to the landing pad you see the Quinjet ready for take off and you all rush inside just to see Bucky at the commands and you smile brightly at the sight.

You have no time to comment, though, as Sam shouts “What are you waiting for?! Go!”

Bucky rolls his eyes but calmly says “We have one more coming.”

You frown. One more? You turn to Steve confusedly but before you can ask anything you can see blond hair darting into the Quinjet and then Natasha’s there.

Bucky instantly takes off and you all take seats and buckle up.

There’s a moment of silence while everyone processes what just happened, but you break it while looking at Natasha that’s sitting directly in front of you.

“Are we gonna talk about the hair?” You ask arching your eyebrow with a smirk.

She groans in annoyance and you can hear the others chuckling while she says “We are not.”

After a few hours you all get to a safehouse and Steve ushers you in before showing you around.

It’s not bad: a secluded cabin with three bedrooms, not too big but Steve assured you you wouldn’t be staying there long anyway. Which makes sense, you're on the run now so this is just temporary.

After the tour Bucky approaches you in the living room and only then you notice he’s missing his metal arm.

“You flew the jet with only one arm? That’s impressive…” You can’t help yourself as you reach to touch his left shoulder, your eyes fixated on it. But stop on your tracks when you feel his right hand carefully cupping your cheek.

Your eyes snap up to his and you can see him thoroughly inspecting the wounds in your face that are still healing a little. He grimaces when he looks down at your bandaged arm and whispers “I’m sorry…”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sergeant.” You smile softly at him and put your hand over his still on your cheek, trying to reassure him that you’re fine.

“I bet you can, doll.” He chuckles.

You’re too busy staring at each other to notice everyone’s attention is on you until Steve clears his throat with an apologetic look on his face.

“We need to go, Buck.” He says and you look confusedly between the two men.

“I’m going back into cryo.” Bucky clarifies for you.

“Oh.” Is all you can say and your eyes widen for a second before you force yourself to put on a more neutral face.

“It’s okay.” He smiles at you, but you feel like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, doll.”

You try your best to smile and not look too bummed out. “I bet you can, Sergeant.”

You hesitate for a moment before surprising him, the others and even yourself by giving him a hug. He hesitates too before delicately hugging you back and, after a moment, you pull away.

He smiles at you with a faint blush and you smile back, watching him walk to the door.

Steve passes you on his way to the door and kisses your forehead, whispering “He’ll be okay” before saying goodbye to the rest of the team, assuring you that he’ll be back soon. Then he also goes through the door and soon both the supersoldiers are gone.

You turn around with a sigh and see Sam, Natasha and Clint standing there, grinning at you, Wanda and Scott looking more compassionate than teasing.

You narrow your eyes at the first three and say sternly “Not. A. Word.” punctuating every word by pointing threateningly at each of them.

They raise their hands in mock surrender while snickering but thankfully don’t say anything and everyone just scatters around the safehouse.

You see the Quinjet depart from the window and try your best to look at the bright side: This isn’t forever, you’ll see him again.

Right?

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham @mary-jinx @abbyyourlocalmilf @selcouthial @esposadomd @americaarse

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tacitoru · 7 months

Text

sunday overcast - eren yeager

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

summary: After ruining your potential dream relationship - and spring break plans - with Jean, you retreat to your hometown over break for the first time in years to lick your wounds. But you can mope around for only so long when you're strapped for cash. Luckily, the manager at your usual summer gig has an unconventional shift you can fill on short notice. The only issue - the guy you hooked up with and ghosted last winter is scheduled to work the same shift. Even worse, he's your only ride home.

rating: explicit

wc: 7.8k

read on ao3 | series nav

the chili's au/scummy line cook eren saga continues

“Hey,” you murmur, low and warm in your throat, just barely heard above the rain. “You wanna cheer me up?”

Eren really isn’t sure how the both of you ended up in this situation.

Don’t get him wrong - he had been imagining your return since the day you left. Or rather, the day he found out you left, through Sasha, who had unceremoniously handed the sweater he loaned you over to him by the next dinner shift they worked together. By then, the winter holidays had passed and you were well on your way back to your university.

At first, he figured that in time, you would text him. Your last encounter was intense, and you could hardly look in his direction the whole drive to your apartment. He couldn’t bring himself to reach out first - something told him it’d make things worse before it made anything better. He couldn’t be the only one stuck on that night. Something had to be said, right?

But right now, somehow, you’re reclining in his backseat, studying him with that alluring, low-lidded gaze that pierces through the darkness of his car. And despite all the steps it took to get to this moment, nothing between the two of you has really been properly addressed yet.

It’s this gnawing thought that causes Eren to hesitate at your invitation. Frustration burns through him at the sight of you. Wet hair pasted to the sides of your flush cheeks. Soaked polo rucked up your stomach, the bare skin shining with rainwater what little light gleans inside from the streetlights. The two of you, alone in Eren’s worn-out sedan, camped out in the middle of Pepper’s vacant parking lot, sporting matching red eyes. He observes you, observing him pretending to mull over your question. Silently pleading with him to blur the lines of whatever this was quickly devolving into just a little bit more. Just one more time.

He wonders if you’ll back down, chicken out, if he’s quiet for long enough.

“Eren,” you call for him again and he swallows, throat feeling dry and thick. There it is again. That lofty tone you often use when he fucks up an order or moves a little too slow. Sweet, pitiful, and disdainful all at once.

A joint smolders in his fingers, long forgotten after dodging to avoid the flailing mass of limbs and appendages that was your poor attempt at wiggling into the back from the passenger seat. A pleasant, lethargic fog creeps at the edges of his consciousness. Your next words seem to float through the car to bless his ears, rolling around in his mind with a warm buzz that has him leaning out of his seat before you’re even finished speaking.

“Come make me feel good.”

New Year’s Day came and went, and Eren figured you’d at least reach out before you left your humble hometown for the start of your last spring semester in the big city. His phone would vibrate, and he would flip it, hoping he was masking his anticipation - and then later, disappointment - well enough at the possibility of you calling. His fingers would idle on your chat messages, frowning when he had to scroll farther and farther as he accumulated others—hoping one day to catch even just those three torturous, winking dots. Any sign that you were thinking of him as much as his thoughts turned to you.

This newfound hobby, waiting for you to return, was a nuisance in every sense of the word. You had left like you had every spring, and you would return like you had every summer. This careful, meticulous dance around your academic schedule that dictated your time back home - when you would work, how long you would stay, and who you would come to see. It was the way it had always been, for the past handful of years at least. Even if you were graduating this year, you had to come back - it was the natural order of things, in Eren’s world.

What Eren hadn’t been anticipating was that you would break that routine.

He wouldn’t really consider himself a creature of habit beyond smoking, but there were people who he considered had specific roles in his everyday life. Connie was his work partner-in-crime and designated smoke buddy. Armin was his rock and moral compass. Levi was a hardass dictator moonlighting as a shift supervisor. And you were the uptight waitress girl from work who liked to boss him around and get on his ass just because you had a college degree and he didn’t.

Realistically, nothing had really shifted too far from the norm in his day-to-day. You had always been just coworkers. Now you were just a coworker whom he had eaten out from the back one time.

Eren had been working at Pepper’s for a long time. It wasn’t like it was the first time he had fucked around with one of his coworkers - that was part of the inevitable circle of life in the restaurant service industry. Work a double shift? Check. Train a newbie? Check. Fuck that one coworker who laughs a little too hard at your jokes? Check.

But then he had practically corned you at Sasha’s ugly sweater party last year, and suddenly that reality had been forced to shift.

It was the worst at work. He would receive an order he found stupid - who the fuck puts ranch on their spaghetti? - and itch to somehow poke fun at you about it. Connie would introduce the dinner crew to new music when the restaurant was closed, Levi had retired into the office for the night, and Eren would catch himself considering which tracks you would find funny and which ones you’d probably look up and save for yourself.

Standing over the hot grill, his thoughts would drift, and Eren would imagine you marching through the swinging double doors into the kitchen, busybodied and frazzled as usual, sticking your neck out under the heat lamps like Erwin hasn't already admonished you for doing before, all so Eren can more clearly hear you chide him for half-assing an appetizer. It’s not hard to envision you - tense, jaw clenched, out of breath, flush, and slightly sweaty. Top buttons of your uniform’s polo are undone so he can glimpse the expanse of your collarbones and a bit of your chest when you lean over the counter to glare at him like you could kill him with your thoughts alone. Like you hadn’t ghosted him for months.

And then Connie would hip check him, wordlessly jarring Eren back into focus as another medium-well steak overcooked beneath his spatula.

Never in his right mind, no matter how often he replayed that fateful night with you in his head, no matter how frequently his thoughts drifted back to that cramped bathroom, the unrestrained feeling of your hands in his hair, the rough material of your knit sweater scrunched between his fingers as he fit himself between your thighs, the taste -

Never in his right mind would he have imagined you sitting in his car, smoothing your splayed hands over the expanse of his leather backseat, drenched to the bone yet offering him a small mirthful, inviting smile despite the chill still in the air as you lean back and make yourself comfortable enough to request, “Come make me feel good.”

Fortunately for Eren, when it came to you, his train of thought had been anything but sound of mind in recent weeks.

Now, his hands are full of you. Large palms slip and slide under your wet top as he explores your back, your waist, and your arms, crushing his mouth to yours.

His hand cups your cheek, a gentle guide in contrast to the hungry exploration of his mouth against yours. Urgent fingers slide into your hair as you rake back his own from his face, a strand getting caught in the corner of his lip when you kiss him once, twice. His slides across your lower lip invitingly, and you sigh into the kiss. Let him pry your mouth open with his own. He tastes like smoke and mints. The smell of deep fryer grease clings to his hair.

When Eren turns to pepper kisses down the soft skin of your neck and collarbones, he thinks he tastes salt. Time melts away, the only constant is the frantic rhythm of your breaths and the soft moans that escape your lips. You clutch the loose knot of his hair, guide him back towards you. Your foreheads rest against each other, chests heaving.

Eren’s gaze is low and warm as he takes in your bruised lips, and the ruddiness of your cheeks. HIs fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips. You shift in his lap under the intensity of his stare, causing you both to groan, quickly reminded of your position. Eren had stepped out into the rain only to shove his way into the backseat and situate you onto his lap. Despite your layers of damp denim and cotton, you can feel him growing warm and solid beneath you.

“Is that for me?” you grind down against his hips. Grinning, teasing. He stutters upwards, gripping your waist like a lifeline.

You think he looks so pretty like this, flustered, frowning, and breathless beneath you, like you’re moving quicker than he can catch up. He wraps one arm around your waist, using his free hand to wrench the collar of your polo aside and sink his teeth into the soft juncture of your neck in retaliation. You jolt and wriggle in his hold but Eren keeps you pressed against him, vengeful.

“So full of yourself,” he mutters, pressing a wet kiss where there is surely now a bruise. “Gotta get you full of me instead.”

You sputter and tell him to shut up, but let him take off your shirt anyway.

The thunderstorm that rolled through your small town this morning was relentless. Eren had figured the day would be wet and dreary when it began drizzling on his way to the restaurant, the headlights on his hooptie struggling to penetrate through the early morning fog. But throughout the morning, whenever Eren got a chance to glance out of the to-go order window, it was evident that it would only grow worse.

He had already been dreading this shift all month. He had been slotted to come in on a Sunday - the one day of the week Pepper’s was closed - to deep clean the kitchen and take inventory of the walk-in fridge. This particular shift was only scheduled once a month, always on a Sunday morning, and rotated between him and Connie. The whole ordeal was a long-winded chore but thanks to Levi, the staff hierarchy was a pretty balanced ecosystem. Typically, one other waitress or front-of-house staff would be assigned randomly to help them. That way, none of the kitchen staff could claim they carried the brunt of the work.

(Even if they did.)

However, this Sunday morning was different. As he peered through the to-go order window, the storm's persistence mirrored the internal tempest he felt. The reason? Your return to staff is scheduled for this very shift.

Eren’s heart nearly fell out of his ass upon first glance at the schedule. He asked Levi if it was a typo.

“It’s spring break,” his manager deadpanned, as though this weren’t the first time you were picking up a shift in the middle of the semester. The linecook could only nod, tight-lipped. Historically, you had only worked over the summers and winters, reserving the few days of spring break for actual vacation time. Eren had figured he would have at least another month or two before you would have to confront each other, once he concluded that you wouldn’t reach out on your own.

Deep cleaning duty was always a menial and tedious task, but Eren working in enjoyed the silence of the usually chaotic kitchen. Any other Sunday, he would tie back his hair, don his apron, and steal Connie’s Bluetooth speaker from above the dishwashing sink. He’d blast his music over the chunky gurgle of the draining deep fryers, over the spray of boiling sink water. Rock, maybe R&B - stuff that wasn’t typical “family-friendly dining hours” approved. Maybe smoke a little before he came in, if he had been smart enough to think to roll something the night before.

It was easy to lose himself in the busy work. Sometimes he would exchange pleasantries with accompanying wait staff if they actually decided not to call out at the last minute. Sasha, a night shift waitress and repeat offender, was never a morning person.

You were never much of a morning person either. It’s why he had been waiting all week for you to call out. He’d like to pretend like he wasn’t anticipating your return; like he hadn’t been taking extra time to pour over the schedule for weeks once winter turned to spring, noting where your name was absent among the list of people set to clock in after 4 pm. Like he hasn’t been bugging Sasha to share the barest hint about when you might be coming back. Or stalking your Twitter to see if you’ll post your graduation photos. But that wouldn’t be entirely true.

Still, the shock of seeing you scheduled so soon before he’s prepared had haunted Eren throughout the week.

He insisted to himself he wasn’t nervous…Maybe a little anxious. The last time he had seen you, he had you bent over the toilet seat and crying into your arms at Sasha’s Christmas party before escorting you out in his garish holiday sweater. Blessedly - or dreadfully - he hadn’t heard from you since.

When you had unloaded the sweater onto Sasha, she didn’t even bother to ask why you were in possession of it in the first place - practically the whole night crew played an incredulous audience to your walk of shame. Connie wouldn’t let him hear the end of it; Jean wouldn’t look him in the eyes at their last all-staff meeting.

Eren can’t shake the feeling of expectation as he moves mechanically through the deep cleaning tasks, hoping you won’t call out and that the morning wouldn't be tainted by awkwardness. Hoping that you will call out and the both of you could remain in this silent, anxious limbo. He had been scheduled to clock in an hour before you. It crept by agonizingly slow. The memory of the holiday party, the garish holiday sweater, and the abrupt departure echo in his mind as he scrubs down the skillet of a grill.

You like that Eren never lets you think for too long.

You’ll slow down when you kiss him, and he’ll stuff his fingers in your mouth instead. You’ll get too quiet for his liking, and he’ll seal his lips around your nipple. Suck bruises into the undersides of your breasts. Man handle you out of your uniform. Strip out of his own when you tug on his shirt.

You grind listlessly in his lap, trying to diminish as much space between you as possible, pressed up against his chest so that his arms are forced to wrap around you. Eren’s hands brace your newly bare legs instead, sliding up your limbs with eager fingers.

You bite his ear and his fingers flex over your ass, pressing just very nearly where you want him most. “What do you want? Hm?” He’s so high, he doesn’t care that he’s whining.

You suspect that he likes that you’re bossy if the glazed look in his eyes is anything to go by. He moves to kiss you and you duck with a grimace, jerking him back by the top knot of his hair.

Your mouth is starting to feel like chalk, cotton mouth having set in. You’re afraid that you’ll croak if you try to speak.

As the first hour drags by, Eren’s unease grows. He’s starting to get antsy. Hadn’t even sparked up before starting to take inventory. Yet, when you finally enter the restaurant - rain-soaked, windswept, marching towards the cash register to clock in with a miserable look - the relief he feels is immediate.

So you’re not avoiding him. At least, not completely. Not enough to turn down a paycheck.

You haven’t quite spotted him yet from outside the kitchen, where he’s braced over the grill, elbow-deep in grease and fry oil grime as he scrubs the insides with a sorry excuse for a sponge, but there’s no way you don’t hear his music. The sound of something like country rock leaks from behind the squeaky metal swinging doors that separate the kitchen - so lovingly tokened “the Heart of the House” - from the front. He feels rather than hears you tentatively push through those very same doors, following the source of the noise.

Looking up to greet you, Eren falters at first. His mouth dries at the sight of you, all damp and disgruntled, shifting uncomfortably at the way your uniform polo sticks to your skin. How you managed to look pretty even in the drab waitressing attire and tacky, pepper-printed apron was beyond him.

When your eyes finally do meet his, there’s an unbearable pause as you gape at one another, both seemingly grappling for the right words. Eren waits for you to speak first - it’s only fair, after months of radio silence, but he’s mostly just afraid of scaring you off.

You look as tense as he feels, shoulder locked up to your ears as you round the corner to face him. Your lips part and Eren prays the next words that pass through them will ease the confusing ache in his chest.

“Since when’re you a Luke Bryan fan?”

Oh. Okay.

The disbelief on his face must be more blatant than he thinks because you begin to chuckle behind pursed lips, the corners of your eyes crinkled with mirth and mild embarrassment.

Deflecting. Okay. He can play along.

“Whaddya mean?” He offers an easy grin, leaning back from where he was bent over the lip of the deconstructed grill. Mentally imploring that stupid part of his brain that gets gooey when you’re around to shut the hell up. “You’re telling me this doesn’t make you wanna shake it for me, country girl?”

“Whatever,” you dismiss him not unkindly, but excuse yourself from him, all the same, to slip past him into the kitchen, grumbling something about “accidentally” placing his phone in this dishwasher if he doesn’t change the music to something else soon.

The way his hands look stretching out the back of your panties as he wets his digits along your soaked slit to finger you drives Eren a little insane. From where he’s got his head perched over your shoulder as you tuck into his own to hide little, shuddering sobs, he’s entranced by the sight of the fabric straining to make room for his knuckles as he dips inside where you’re molten and wanting.

He wonders if you’ll let him keep this pair, if he asks. He’ll try not to think of it like a reward.

You sigh at the welcome intrusion, one arm slung around his neck, the other hand fisting the damp hemp of his jeans. Slowly, indulgently, he presses in. And out.

“Yeah? Like that?”

He asks like he genuinely wants to know, not like he’s being cocky about how easily you’re falling apart for him, and it makes you clench a little harder around his fingers. Cry into his shoulder a little louder. You couldn’t even answer if you wanted to.

Eren refuses to be rushed. Takes his time to learn what makes you twitch and moan like you’re not camped out in the middle of a very public parking lot. You’ll have to ask him about his exhibitionist tendencies later. He picks up the pace, cranes his neck to kiss you and you struggle to kiss him back. You’re sloppy, dragging your tongue across the edge of his chin. Spit bubbles at the corner of your lip, and he bites you there.

Distantly, you hear the rain pick up.

Despite your seemingly easygoing demeanor and non-confrontation, the weight of your last encounter and the unspoken acknowledgment of your absence is tangible for the entire shift.

It hovers between the two of you like a dark cloud as you dance around each other throughout the morning, never offering more than a few words between tasks and weak smiles.

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. It should be enough that you even bothered to show up today, despite everything.

But Eren hates how polite you’re being with him. You give a little, cracking a joke here, offering a laugh there. But there’s none of your usual bite. Something passive in your gaze. Distant in an unsettling way he can’t comprehend.

You ask him where the cleaning solution is and he directs you to a recently reorganized (courtesy of Levi) storage closet instead of asking why you’ve never texted him after all that transpired. You seek out his help breaking down empty bulk-order shipping boxes and he spends the better part of an hour snapping cardboard in half instead of interrogating you about Jean, if you told him about what happened as he suspects. If you regret it, like he’s assuming.

You don’t seem to not want to be around him. Rather the opposite - you don’t want to leave him alone for too long. Asking him for help with things he knows you know - you’ve worked here nearly as long as he has. Purposefully keeping him at arm's length, but orbiting him all the same. He waits patiently for you to take that jump you seem to be building up to.

The morning wears on, the two of you working in relative silence. You pay Eren little mind, dutifully going about your tasks yet always hovering within eyesight, occasionally disappearing into the bathroom. You didn’t even reprimand him for the volume of his music like you normally would, or hound him for eating on the job when he makes a sandwich mid-shift.

In his periphery, he watches as you fuss about the kitchen, flitting between tasks, and wonders if you were waiting for him to get angry with you first before broaching the subject.

Eren takes his smoke break standing at the back door. When you notice his absence, he waits for you to admonish him for letting the draft in. Instead, you merely glower in disdain at the rainwater splattered on the tile floor, never meeting his eyes, before turning the corner with a dismissive, “ ‘S’long as you know you’re cleaning that up.”

The storm rages outside. An uneasy feeling festers inside Eren. It eats at his stomach as the end of his shift creeps near. Grits his teeth when you both clock out with little more than a half-assed, “See you later.”

Eren’s ears ring as he hangs his apron and collects his things from the back office. A notable lack of an umbrella, he fits a worn Yankees cap over his hair and fits what he can of his bun through the back, like it’ll do anything against the downpour standing between him and his car.

Say something. He should say something.

He remembers how bold he was that fateful night; teasing you on the couch, ruining your sweater, and rushing to your aid in the bathroom.

“What the hell is with you?” You had muttered, and Eren had wanted to gather your face in his palms and press his forehead to yours hard like it would make you feel all of the years’ worth of want and frustration he couldn’t put into words.

He had pressed his mouth to yours instead, intent on devouring you at the first warm, breathless sound you made. He had always been better at communicating like this.

Say something.

Eren meanders back towards the front of the restaurant, ready to lock up. To his surprise, you haven’t rushed out to greet your ride. Your lack of car ownership had been an amazing feat to watch you work around in your early days of working at Pepper’s. You had long since established a carpooling repertoire with the other wait staff. He can’t remember who usually takes you home. It’s not a parent, that much is for sure. Sasha had totted you around this past winter break due to most of your shifts lining up. And before that - his mind fogs.

The line cook spots you leaning against the glass double doors at the front, tapping idly away at your phone, and sucks his teeth - Levi was definitely going to make him go back and wipe them down tomorrow.

“You’re getting prints on my glass.”

You glance at him pointedly before breathing on the glass and smudging a heart with your thumb where the foggy imprint begins to fade.

Eren wrinkles his nose. “Amazing.”

“You’re welcome.”

Rain fills the silence as you take each other in. It's late afternoon, but from where Eren stands, the sunless weather casts the impression that it is well into the night. You look at him full-on for the first since the start of your shift, eyes unabashedly raking over his form. Save for the emergency lamps, all of the lights in the building have been shut off. The dim light casts shadows beneath your eyes - you look tired.

Eren twirls the keychain in his hands, quizzical. “You…got a ride home?”

He tries not to feel offended at the way your brows spike, unable to hide your surprise. Your reaction is quick, reflexive. Your answering “Yeah!” comes out wince-like and strangled. The forced pitch in your voice makes you both cringe. Clearing your throat to try again, softer this time. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Eren stares at you. The teeth of the key bite into the skin of his fingers in the tightness of his grip.

“Thank you for asking.” You add, a little more sincerely.

“Yeah.” He tugs the hat over his eyes. Tosses the key in your direction and tries not to take too much delight in watching you drop your cool composure to scramble and catch the metal piece. “Lock up when you’re out.”

You don’t know how many times you’ve come. Consciousness comes and goes in waves. Dozed off in his lap with your face tucked into his shoulder after your third orgasm to the thrum of rain and the steady rise and fall of his chest. Eren had fumbled for a condom out of his wallet and sunk into you at your first insistence. What started off as a frenzied, frustrated tangle of limbs somewhere along the way devolved into something much softer. Where you’re still rooted on his thick length becomes a slow, sloppy rut as you come down from your high.

Where you are sleepy, Eren is determined, dead set on accomplishing the task you set before him.

" Hm? Feel good?” He presses his lips to your forehead, presses his thumb to your clit in a slow grind. Grins when you twitch his hold. You gave up trying to maintain any semblance of control a long time ago, boneless and relenting when Eren strongarms you into his embrace.

“This what you wanted?” he pants, gruff and a little desperate, and you have enough energy left to nod, murmuring his name. He scoots down a little in his seat, bracing his legs in a wide stance before pistoning his hips into your warm, wet center. Any other time you would cringe at the way the skin of your bare thighs stick to the tops of his, Eren's work-issued black jeans shoved mid-way down his legs. All he can offer is a breathless moan in response when you wail and wriggle in his hold, hips reflexively jumping away.

“So hot like this,” he breathes into the space behind your ear. “So good, fuck.”

You reach one hand up to brace against the back windshield, palm slipping across the condensation. The playlist Eren put on loops again.

At the end of his Sunday shift, Eren finds himself sitting in his car in the back parking lot at Pepper’s, unearthing a joint from his dash drawer and digging around for his lighter, silently cursing himself.

Parked beneath the restaurant sign - Pepper’s in brilliant white script, a caricatured bell pepper hugging the ‘P’ - the neon red mascot hovers far above the hood of Eren’s hooptie. Seemingly glowering at him through his windshield with a knowing smile. He can spot the cartoonishly wide eyes from where he sits, even through the downpour of rain.

Of course, you found him fucking appalling. The last time he had seen you, he’d practically dropped to his knees at the chance to distract you from the guy you actually liked.

The ringing sound gets a little louder behind his ears. Can I really keep going like nothing happened?

From the start of your career at the restaurant Pepper’s - if you could call it that - you had made it very evident that you and Eren were of two separate worlds.

You were a college student. You had shiny friends and extravagant stories from a bigger city, a vastly different lifestyle than the quiet bubble and hum of suburbia you called home. Eren had seen the Instagram pictures. You had goals. You had ambition. Pepper’s was a pit stop for you. Although you never outright mocked him for it, he could see it in the sneer on your lip sometimes when you interrupted a smoke break or in the aggravated glint in your eye when you had to address him about a dish.

You considered him beneath you.

A gentle rap at his window pulls Eren from his thoughts, and he practically jumps out of his skin at the sight of you standing in the pouring rain, crouched over his window. Face pressed pleadingly into the cold glass. Eren freezes, and then jumps into action, fumbling his newly retrieved lighter and nearly dropping his joint in the process.

“Holy shit?”

He places his things in his pocket and rolls down the window just a crack, the wind already whipping water into the interior of his car. “You good?”

It’s a stupid question - one he expects you to reproach him for. Instead, a rare look crosses your face - you look meek, and nervous, in a way you haven’t since your first day on the job. Arms crossed, lips pursed. Like you’re about to do something you don’t normally do. The rain pelts your flimsy excuse for a rain jacket.

“Could I - Can I get a ride?” He can pick out your agitation even over the rumble of the thunderstorm. “I’ll give you gas money, I just-,”

“Money? What-,” He unlocks his car door, incredulous. “Can you just get in the fucking car please?”

You grimace at his tone when he rolls his window back up, but Eren watches you skirt around the front of his car nonetheless. You plop into the passenger seat, a puddle of rainwater. He can hear your socks squish in your shoes when you shift in your seat.

“What the hell?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, looking at your hands. Your jeans feel ten pounds heavier, the denim soaked all the way through. “My ride didn’t-,”

You stop and then start again, and Eren moves to interrupt you. You speak over one another.

“- No, it’s no -,”

“-I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Eren steals a glance at you, seeing what he hopes is just the rain streaking down the sides of your face. He fiddles with his phone and puts on a random playlist to fill the silence.

He notices the tremble in your hands, the way your usually self-assured posture has shrunk into itself. You look small in his passenger seat. At once, all of his annoyance melts away, replaced by a surge of concern.

"Hey," he starts softly, "It’s whatever. Don’t sweat it, seriously." Eren notices you shiver and reaches over to blast the heat in his dinky sedan.

“Fuck, you’re freezing, hold on.”

You watch, pressed against the passenger door to make room as your coworker reaches behind his seat, long limbs momentarily invading your space as he dregs up a dark green hoodie from the depths of his car floor with a flourish. A bright red pepper patch the size of your hand is sewn across the chest. The cartoonish mascot of your place of work smiles mockingly back at you in the dim lighting of Eren’s car with wide, unseeing eyes.

It’s your turn to wrinkle your nose at him, skeptical. “It’s clean I swear, grabbed it on my way here this morning.”

Despite your skepticism, you take it from him anyway, between two pinched fingers for dramatic effect, moaning and groaning as you pull it over your head.

“We can’t let this be a regular thing.”

It’s said so casually, but the jolt of rage and disbelief Eren feels at your reference to last December is tremendous. He scoffs, avoiding your gaze as he reveals the joint and lighter from his pockets once more.

“Oh, so we can joke about it but not talk about it?” It comes out more scathing than he intends to be.

He registers your obvious shock beside him at his words but only pauses to balance the filter of his forgotten joint between his lips, already poised to burn the rolled end with a steady hand as he flicks the lighter on. “Do you mind?”

You shake your head, sinking into his hoodie and wordlessly watching as he inhales, deeply, then exhales, indulgent. A sweet, earthly smell fills the car. “Alright.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

Eren studies you a little too hard, more clarity in his gaze than you would prefer. You don’t refuse when he passes you the roll, gently pinched between two fingers. He waits until you’ve inhaled to voice his suggestion, taking a little amusement in how you choke on the smoke. “We could talk about Jean. I think there’s definitely a lot to cover there.”

Eren waits for you to back down from the obvious challenge. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace at the sound of the dayshift manager’s name. “Is that what this is about? Is that who usually picks you up?”

“You never noticed?” You don’t sound mad, just surprised, so Eren figures it's okay to be honest.

“You…no.” He shakes his head and takes a hit. “I could give less of a fuck about what Jean gets up to in his free time, sorry.”

“Ah.”

You’re silent for a little bit after that. When he glances at you again, you’re already handing him the joint and turned to face the passenger window, gazing out at the rain. The size of Eren’s hoodie seems to swallow you.

He doesn’t press you to elaborate, but you do anyway, feeling guilty for your matter-of-fact attitude earlier, when he’s been nothing but accommodating for you so far. You decide to give a little. “We’ve been carpooling together every shift. Every year. He dropped me off today…”

“Said it would be the last time.” You peter off. "We had vacation plans together."

You had planned to go to the beach with mutual friends - Jean's parents owned a beach house on the coast. You were going to meet his parents. You can remember how light you had felt the day after the plans had been made, last summer, practically dancing into work the next shift, and then with a little more clarity, the awful pit that had formed in your stomach when he had broken the news to you on the drive to work this morning.

Eren shifts in his seat, and clears his throat, trying to quell the urge to punch Jean in his. He ashes into a little dish in his cupholder. “Figured somethin’ had happened. Been in such a shitty mood all day.”

“Me? Okay, Mr. I’m gonna mope in the kitchen until somebody notices and takes pity on me. Didn’t you ever go through a goth phase as a kid? I think know a couple of artists you could get into.”

“Tsk,” Eren brushes off your laughter with another hit of his joint, halfway smoldering between his fingertips. “You wouldn’t know a goth phase if it smacked you between the eyes.”

“Mm, no I figured you’d be an expert, with hair like that.”

“Like what?”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles behind your hand, high catching up to you, a balmy and pleasant buzz in your head. The image of Eren rocking an early 2010s-grunge fringe cut clear as day in your mind’s eye. You blame the weed for making you brave enough to lean over and reach across the console to brush the sable fringe that escapes from his bun and spills from under his baseball cap out over his eyes.

Until recently, your relationship had been largely surface-level. This prim and proper versus anything goes repertoire you had both built over the years, banter that exclusively involved work lingo and work references and work friends. You’d come back from college, and Eren was there. You’d leave for another semester, and Eren was still there.

As permanent as a fixture in your mind as the walk-in fridge or the soda dispenser. Always prepared to give you hell on a slow moving shift or crack jokes at your expense. Always there to keep your plates in order or set aside a pasta entree for you during a dinner rush despite his strict “customer-orders-before-employees” edict because he knows you won’t eat otherwise. Always there to cover for you when your bathroom breaks went a little too long.

He’ll tap dance on your last nerve all day, but you care for each other, through that vague sense of solidarity that coworkers share.

Eren blinks back at you, low and slow, eyes caught on your easy smile. The first genuine one you’ve given him all day. He’s entranced, savoring the feeling of your fingers drifting across his brow bone, tracing his jawline, and then sliding back along the nape of his neck to tuck under the strap of his hat.

For a moment, it’s all a little too much for Eren. The gentleness of your touch and tone, your full, undivided attention as you undo the strap. He quietly marvels at the ease with which you do it with one hand, slipping the knot of his hair free. The loose strands freefall over his eyes once more, but you’re quick to push them back. You shift forward further out of your seat to use both hands, and he lets you, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of your finger raking gently across his scalp. Distantly, he admonishes himself for somehow ending up allowing you to let you pet him like a dog in his own car.

He’s supposed to be driving you home.

“Did you-,” Eren’s voice cracks, and you don’t bother hiding your laugh. “Would you feel better if you like, talked about it with someone?”

The joint is simmering down to it’s last dregs between Eren’s knuckles. He offers it to you, and you twist his wrist to direct the filter towards your mouth, inhaling with your lips pressed to his fingers.

Eren would blame the heat crawling up his chest on the AC, but it’s at that moment he notices the heater never kicked in. He frowns, turning away from you to restart the car, stomping on the break.

The vehicle lurches and makes an odd shuddering sound before hot, stale air blasts through the vents. You lean away from the one closest to you, fumbling the shutter closed. “The fuck is with your car?”

“‘S old as shit. Whole thing is on its last leg.” Eren gripes, waving off a cloud of dust that seemed to halo around his head. He tries to roll his eyes when he clocks your “no, duh” expression, but the motion feels slow and clunky behind his eyelids. “Doesn’t matter. Fixing up a new one anyway.”

It only stings a little when your brows nearly shoot up to your hairline in surprise, inhibitions lowered, no longer able to hide your indifference to him as well as usual.

“You build cars?” Your lips feel like rubber under the haze of marijuana. The words feel stupid the moment you utter them, but Eren catches what he dares to believe is a hint of awe in your tone. He ribs you for it, preening a little under your attention.

“Yeah, me build cars,” the line cook laughs and mocks you, caveman-like. “Car go fast.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You pout, ignoring his raspy, rumbling laughter and the warm feeling blossoming in your chest. The memory of him smiling up at you, all teeth and impish in Sasha’s bathroom winks across your mind’s eye. Arms crossed, you whip around to face the window again, withdrawing before he can catch the deep color crawling across your cheeks. In all your years of working together, you’d never really considered what Eren did outside of work and hanging out with your circle of colleagues. You feel like you’ve unveiled something vast and unknown.

“That’s cool.” You offer in a whisper, awe poorly hidden in your voice, and it’s Eren’s turn to hide his face.

“Didn’t know you had a hobby.”

“Yeah, well, I do exist outside of all this, y’know,” he gestures vaguely in the direction of the restaurant and you hum, nodding. Feeling silly that this is a realization you’re only just now coming to.

A strange new calm had settled between you. The rain outside continues its relentless assault, but within the car, you feel a fragile connection form. You peek at Eren from the corner of your eye, his expression unreadable in the dim light, yet somehow comforting. Equally lax and low-lidded. He reaches for his glove box to reveal a second preroll and gets to work lighting it as you observe his side profile in silence.

You’re not too prideful to admit he looks handsome like this, hair undone and falling over his shoulders, work polo unbuttoned at the top, features lit up by the dim glow of the lighter in his fist against the overcast gloom of the afternoon.

Then he squints, face twisted like something has been bothering him. “I thought you didn’t smoke.” Or at least, he had assumed so, by how often you got on his ass about lighting up while on the clock.

“At work, dumbass.” Eren exhales, and the car gets hazy again, even with air running through the vents. He sees you twist your fingers into the hem of his hoodie and wishes they were in his hair again. “I am a college student.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.”

You reluctantly turn to face him again, if only to implore him to continue. “You can be so…I dunno.” He scrambles for the right words through the drug-induced fog in his brain, faltering a little under your scrutiny. “Uptight? Straight-edged? Can’t imagine you reaching for a blunt to wind down.”

“It’s not my first choice of coping mechanism,” you joke, plucking the newly lit roll from his grasp between careful fingers, laughing through your nose when you miss on the first try. You take the opportunity to throw his words back at him, childishly. “I do have a life outside of here, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Silence descends again, still comfortable in the haze of the car. It’s getting a little harder to breathe. You steal another glance at your colleague, noticing the way his gaze tracks the motion of the joint being brought to your lips, strands of his dark hair plastered to his forehead by the rain. That unexpected warmth grows in your chest, a feeling you can’t bring yourself to name. Not after this morning.

Eren leans closer, over the console that separates you with lidded eyes that flicker between your gaze and your mouth as you slowly expel the smoke from between your lips. Eyes set on you with an unfamiliar softness that makes your heart ache. The distance between your faces shrinks agonizingly slowly. He whispers your name, and suddenly you’re lurching backward, struggling up out of your seat to slip into the crevice that separates the front of the car from the backseat. The moment is broken.

Eren yelps, ducking in time to just nearly miss being clipped by your sneakers as you shimmy into the back seat. You peel his hoodie over your head with exasperated finality.

He twists in his seat to face you, bewildered, but you’re already settling into his back seat with a smile, still trying to keep two steps ahead of him even when you’re stoned.

Eren’s not really sure what he’s trying to prove to himself - prove to you. But that little ache in his chest gets a little gentler when you look at him like that, the confusion about whateverthisis becomes a little less profound, a little quieter.

“Come make me feel good.”

He recognizes the undertone in your voice. He doesn’t need to be told twice. The young man moves on autopilot, stepping out of the driver’s seat to slide into the backseat beside you, ignoring your indignant shriek with a grin when the rain lashes the car’s interior. Eren is dripping wet when he reaches for you, lips slips slotting against yours with an eager certainty that makes you moan.

He wouldn’t call it a crush, but if anyone could have heard the way his heart kicked up when you beckoned him into his own backseat - they might argue otherwise.

Once again, Eren is dropping you off while you wear something of his. He watches you fiddle with the hem of the Pepper’s hoodie as he pulls into your parents’ driveway, behind one of their cars.

The line cook thinks back to what you revealed to him earlier, how Jean had been your usual carpool to work, and gets angry all over again. “You thinking of getting one of your own?”

He means a car, but you’re too busy avoiding his eyes again, studying his hoodie a little too closely. “Yeah, do you think Erwin has any more? I think this merch is from before even I started, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the pepper drawn like this.”

You pick at the outdated mascot embroidered across the chest of the piece, the cartoon eyes glaring back at him unblinkingly, as if daring him to correct you.

The rain had subsided on the drive to your neighborhood. You look less gaunt in the sunlight. Eren remembers how you let him hold you after your spontaneous round of marathon sex. Sticky and sweaty and damp for a whole new reason. Remembers how you pressed a kiss to his forehead after the fact, how it made him feel warm with a different kind of buzz entirely independent of the bud you had smoked.

He stops you when you move to take off the hoodie again and give it back to him, halfway out of the car.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a lopsided smile. “You can keep this one.”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager #eren smut #eren jaeger fanfic #aot smut #aot fanfic #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #chili's au #welcome to pepper's #aot angst #eren angst

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klausinamarink · 8 months

Text

The Only Sounds Are His Heart and Music

rating: T | cw: mentions of Vecna nightmares and near-death experience | wc: 893 | tags: established relationship, canon divergence, hurt/comfort | prompt: Love is the perfect mixtape/Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

written for @steddielovemonth

Heavy silence filled the trailer, not even the barking of the neighbours' dogs or the rattling winds dared to break inside. It was as if all sounds from the outside world had been snuffed out, putting the residents into a solitary confinement room. It would've been unnerving if the Steve wasn't pressing his ear against Eddie's chest where his heart thudded loudly.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

Eddie was still alive.

Steve swallowed another lump down his throat, wincing slightly as he did. When Eddie had gone white-eyed and later floated in the air, Steve screamed so loud out he nearly shredded his throat. He had no idea how much it hurt to speak until after the music worked and Wayne Munson demanded an explanation for his nephew's apparent possession that when Steve had tried to explain, barely a wheezing sob came out. Dustin and the other kids had taken over as storytellers of the Upside Down while Steve held a heaving Eddie in his hold.

Eddie was breathing normally now as if he was sleeping. But Steve knew from his tense body that Eddie was still wide awake. His fingers kept twitching from squeezing Steve's biceps to twisting the wires of his headphones where Dio's Hungry For Heaven blared out to gripping the blankets around them. It was close to his usual manic energy but more subdued. Terrified as if everything he touched was even real.

Whoever the hell this Vecna guy was, Steve was ready bash his brains out with his nail bat.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-babump.

Eddie's heartbeat stayed the same but Steve caught the moment it started to quicken. Steve squeezed his arms around Eddie's torso and nuzzled his face against the chest. He wanted to kiss his boyfriend so badly but Steve couldn't bare to let go and let the sound of his heart vanish from his functional ear.

He felt Eddie shuddering out a breath before his arms began to wrap around Steve's shoulders. Eddie sniffed and pressed his face on the top of Steve's head.

Nestled between them, Hungry For Heaven faded away but the Walkman kept whirring. And then, very clearly, Eddie My Love by The Chordettes started playing.

Steve blinked down at the Walkman with a mix of confusion and bubbling fear. He knew that Lucas was the one who managed to snagged the right tape to save Eddie during the panic, but for a terrifying moment, he wondered if Lucas made a mistake. "What the-"

He looked up when he heard Eddie snorting. For the first time since he had safely fell back to the ground, Eddie was cracking a smile. "I thought Vecna was going to snatch me again when that played after Dio. Turns out that it's my second favourite song." He lifted the Walkman up to the streams of the moonlight so Steve could peer closely at the cassette's label. His heart leapt up to his throat when he recognized the tiny heart doodles over his own handwriting.

Eddie's VERY METAL Mixtape

The whoosh of air escaping Steve's lips might've been a sigh or some poor attempt of a laugh. Either way, relief flowed from him, top to bottom. He dropped his head onto Eddie's chest again, almost headbutting the chin. "Jesus" he murmurs soft enough that it doesn't agitate his throat, "we should give Sinclair a fruit basket."

"A truck full of them. Freshly produced from sweet Alabama." Eddie adds cheekily.

They chuckle together before falling back to silence, barely accompanied by the faint vocals.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

Steve waits for another minute before he breaks it with a quiet question, "Are you okay, Eds?"

It's a stupid question, but Steve just wanted to hear his honesty. No person can handle the massive guilt of letting Chrissy Cunningham go home after a little freakout over the drug she wanted, only for her body to be broken beyond recognition by an unseen force in front of her parents, or be tormented alone by painful headaches and nightmares before nearly dying, or the sudden revelation that your secret boyfriend and his little gaggle of kids have been fighting monsters of an alternate dimension for years.

Eddie gave out a drawn-out sigh before he answers, "Not really. Feeling like shit but I can't sleep."

The Chordettes come to a sweet end before being inappropriately followed up by Black Sabbath's Die Young. It made Steve shrivel on the inside. He wished he could pummel his past self for including that song in the tape. But if Eddie was bothered, he didn't show it. Still-

"You're going to fine." Steve whispers harshly. His face is close up to Eddie now, his hand pressing against the other man's heart. "As long as you keep listening to our tape, we're gonna figure out to kick Vecna's ass. You will live."

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

Eddie's eyes glistened. Steve flipped the both of them over, careful not to crush the Walkman, allowing Eddie much more room to crawl further up and bury himself into Steve's tight embrace. Eddie's face pressed into Steve's neck, already soaking his skin with tears. It doesn't bother Steve at all. His hands rubbed his boyfriend's back in smoothing circles. Steve brought his mouth to Eddie's temple first before moving to his ear, quietly repeating "you will live" over and over.

Steve prayed for it to be true.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

#klaus writes #steddie #stranger things #steddielovemonth

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vintagegeekculture · 3 months

Note

There are some books that are functionally boy’s adventure books, but are not advertised as such (Stuart Gibbs is a good example), but I absolutely know what you’re referring to. I have some experience in the public-facing library/bookselling field, so I have a guess at some of the reasons that boy's adventure books are currently out of fashion.

Shonen anime, and graphic novels trying to cash in on being similar to shonen anime, are currently considered to be the main replacement.

The dual successes of Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Captain Underpants are seen as the overall representation of “what boys want to read”. As with any success, middling-to-bad (or at least incredibly cynical) knockoffs are rife.

Right now, books aimed at boys who have poor experiences around masculinity, or little interest in it, are extremely popular. So any story that celebrates masculinity is going to be looked at as being somewhat dangerous.

If you’re not interested in toilet humor and are a masculine kind of guy, you’re going to be looking at slim pickings.

-------------

P.S. I'm a WWII guy, except for a few years when I was a Spanish-American War guy -- I thought that was the same as having a personality.

Here's my observation on the popularity of Captain Underpants and Dogman: it ties in to an absolutely well understood track for stages of development in boys.

Now, keep in mind that I am not an expert in childhood development or education, but in the past, the reading habits of boys went through three comic book reading stages that maps, roughly, onto their growing capacities as they get older:

Archie/Harvey Comics Stage. This is usually a boy's first comic book, friendly and humorous and childlike. In the past, every boy's first comic is usually Archie, Jughead, or Richie Rich, or Casper the Friendly Ghost, Peanuts, Garfield, or Wendy the Good Little Witch. They like surreal humor, and the absence of concrete thinking and unreality of these books is a positive, as it matches the non-concrete thought processes of young kids, which is why adults often have trouble relating to this: if you ever saw a kid's drawings from this stage, people just float or fly in space, their feet not on the ground, and the sun is often drawn with a face. Notice that kids absolutely accept as a given that Pete and Pete are two brothers with the same name, which is something adults have a problem grasping. If you ever asked yourself why Spongebob Squarepants lives in a pineapple under the sea, of all things, instead of accepting it as a given (of course he lives in a pineapple, what do you expect?), you're probably past this stage.

Superman/Batman Stage. After the Archie/Harvey stage, boys move on to Superman and/or Batman, as their imagination capacities develop, they start to envision adventure and science fiction/other worlds apart from just humorous surrealism. Because they start to experience stories vicariously as their imagination expands to include putting themselves into the story, they tend to start to want adventure and action at this point, power fantasies of muscles, freedom, swordfighting, karate and sweet jump kicks, swinging over a rickety bridge with a rope, and wrestling a monkey (this is also the age that in decades past, boys got obsessed with Tarzan, and in more recent times, got into Adventure Time, a show about two brothers with no parents). All this is mingled with fantasy and science fiction as the ability to think in terms of other worlds and places emerges, but they still prefer pro-wrestling like good and evil as clearly delineated, as their moral reasoning is not super well developed. There are female villainesses in stories at this level, and their master plan is often to get the hero laid, which is a sign of evil instead of good. The fact that Batman and Superman seem to always have all the answers and win cleanly is a plus at this stage, since stories are lived vicariously as opposed to handled and seen with distance. Some people don't move past this stage, and you can usually identify these people because as they identify closely with a main character's state and emotions, put a book down when things get bad for the main character, and often say things like "wow, why does this writer like killing off characters or making them suffer?"

X-Men Stage. After a phase of being into Superman and Batman, most kids move on to an X-Men phase, usually by 6th Grade, but it depends on the kid. They start to be aware of society and the individual, and with that, in the case of many, comes an awareness of being on the outside looking in, so themes of being an outsider, rebel, and alienation start to be important. This is the stage your kids start to turn into little jerks who mouth off to you, and the reason why is the same reason kids (usually) move on from Superman to X-Men: it's the era that kids start to develop moral reasoning, a muscle they flex and apply to every aspect of their life and play with like a new toy. They probably aren't able to articulate it this way, but they like the idea of conflict with society, rebellion (as they are conscious of an individual and society for the first time), and even the idea of moral dilemmas. Also, because boys are going through puberty at this point, they start to find girls interesting, which is why the X-Women like Rogue, Storm, Marvel Girl, and Psylocke were so much more alluring and appealing than Lois Lane and Betty and Veronica. They also start to be aware of status for the first time, a person's relationship in comparison to others, something younger kids are only barely cognizant of, which is why they like things being hardboiled and "cool."

You could, for more modern times, update this list of stages to the Spongebob Stage, Adventure Time Stage, and Jojo/One Piece Stage. In the 1950s, the trajectory would be Tom Swift and other "boy with a helicopter" stories, then boyish gee-whiz adventure writers like H.G. Wells and Jules Verne, and finally, big-idea, believable guys like Heinlein and Asimov by age 12-14. The exact content is not important, the developmental stages in boys are.

If you're a Star Trek fan as a kid, Captain Kirk is usually your favorite character early on (in the Superman/Batman stage), where you vicariously experience and enjoy his coolness and ace-status (as a kid, I thought Captain Kirk was cooler than all the comic book superheroes put together), and then it usually becomes Spock as you get older and start to relate to his alienation and the fact he is different from everyone else. Star Trek deserves some genius prize because it has the adventure, cool monsters, and moral framework to appeal to kids at the Superman stage, but then grows up with them with dilemmas and big ideas as they enter the X-Men stage.

I do believe the reason Harry Potter has such a fan following is the books grow up with you. Harry Potter started off whimsical and charming (Harvey/Archie Stage), then became about adventure and good versus evil (Superman/Batman Stage) then was about moody teenagers, where the heroes are outlaws on the run from the clueless government and pair off with each other in love stories (X-Men Stage).

There are bound to be problems when something aims at one stage but has fans of the other. Hulk Hogan and John Cena are often hated by a certain kind of wrestling fan because they are Batman/Superman heroes kids love because they experience their strength and indomitability vicariously, and only grow to prefer the X-Men-like "cool rebel" Rock and Stone Cold later on. You don't like John Cena, or Superman, because he's not for you.

Now, all that said, when you talk about how boys don't move past Dogman, the Archie/Harvey Comics is the stage of development you're talking about, that books like Captain Underpants, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and Dogman operate at. And the reason they seem to be dominant is that boys stop reading after the Archie stage. In other words, in my opinion, you're confusing effect with cause: they have nothing for them except manga after this point as most boys stop reading entirely past the Archie/Harvey Comics stage.

Why? Your guess is as good as mine, it is simply the largest and underdiscussed social problem of our time, boys stop reading and often never read again. "Young Adult" essentially means girl's books now.

The reason why nobody is examining this issue is simple: men's rights advocates are not particularly concerned with helping boys, but more with bitterly whining about ex girlfriends and gripes with the family court system. So when a legitimate social issue happens that affects boys disproportionately (the fact boys stop reading entirely around age 9-10 and never read a book again in their lives) they have nothing to say and are not particularly interested in the issue.

As someone with a concern and interest in helping boys, I was initially very sympathetic to the Men's Rights idea that society leaves them behind, and it does happen more or less as they say it does: society lets them slip through the cracks, especially in the school system, where they are seen as a problem to be solved, especially when high spirited (normal). However, there was very little sympathy in that group for boys who were physically abused and beaten by parents. Most believe in corporeal punishment, as they care less about boys and more about the primacy of paternal authority - just as you'd expect from bitter, divorced dad, malicious pieces of shit. And boys being molested is often treated as a joke, and not with the seriousness and primacy the issue deserves.

Likewise, despite the talk of feminism helping men, women's rights are not especially concerned with helping boys either, because...well, why would they be? It also doesn't help that the leadership and vanguard (though not necessarily the rank and file or activist base) of women's rights movements are usually professional, striving educated women (a group with high rates of sociopathy and reduced empathy) so their focus is on access to elite institutions and professions. This is more especially obvious in the UK than in the US, where feminism is more explicitly linked to class, as one can see with JK Rowling. As a consequence of this, #MeToo was not about waitresses or gig workers who endure horrible harassment, but about access to elite institutions. There's a reason why when we picture sexual harassment, it's in business suits at a law firm, and not a diner waitress bothered by creeps or her manager.

I will say this: I am very heartened that #MeToo and activism and so on are now starting to include boys who were molested. Very few changes in our culture have been positive and that is one. There's a reason male survivors of sexual abuse and molestation keep their head down, were not included as a part of #MeToo initially, and that is starting to change. Self blame and guilt is a part of every abuse victim, but it is especially crushingly intense with boys too young to understand, and who are trained to endure and not ask for help from male friends.

#psychology #development

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shotokimchi · 2 years

Text

When Their S/O Is a Seggs God

MINORS DNI

How would they react if their cute lover was like a succubus in bed LMAO Going through some hard stuff so wanted to drop this here to laugh a little JSDFHSDK-

A/N:Sorry for being inactive y'all i swear I'm not ignoring the requests, just preparing for an important exam this year, but I'll be back around Julyyyy

Little side note: Characters are aged up so don't come at me smh

part2 w/Dabi and Midoriya

Bakugo

So we all know that this man doesn't sleep around randomly. My guy dates the "one" for him he's planning to marry you so if you aren't planning about settling down...

Too bad for you missy (Lemme see your ring finger bitch you gonna get wifed up💍)

After taking you out to meet his parents, this chili oil literally falls in love with you (i mean he already did but when he saw how you treated his momma and papa- boy was CHOKING ON HIS HEART❤️) so he decides to take your relationship to the next level.

Needs and excuse to leave early so literally tells his parents that he has a bad case of diarrhea ( Do ya'll know that video LMAO) and drags you out to his car

Lemme tell you he ran over at least 5 red lights just to have sex with you-

And you are just confused about why he's suddenly acting like a rabid dog i mean he's always acting like one but this time-

"Suki, why is your mouth foaming?"

On the way to your apartment, you had an inner conflict about actually taking him to a vet, you aint planning on telling him that tho.

After finally throwing you onto the shared bed like a sack of flour mf flies for a second in the air like a bloodthirsty mosquito- (the only difference is he's thirsty for the ✨All-mighty pussy juice✨)

Dw tho man asks for your consent because he loves you a lot and doesn't want your first time to be scary and all-

Wait did i say first time?

YES MF THINKS YOU'RE A VIRGIN- but guess what he's about to find out...

Before he can start kissing you, you push him onto his back and rip off his pants and leave a small peck on his lips before riding him like you are in a horse race- Good news gurl you are about to win, no one can compare

Poor man is speechless bc you are literally singing on his dick like you are the headliner in a choir...

And while you are singing you are rhythmically bouncing too LMAO

IM👏GONNA👏PUMP👏EVERY👏SINGLE👏DROP👏OUT👏OF👏YOU

He aint scared no he just swallowed his tongue by accident- cuz you know...

HIS GIRL IS LITERALLY DOING THE DUCK WALK ON HIS DICK (🦆🦆🦆)

WALK THAT FUCKING DUCK Y/N QUACK QUACK QUACK

He decides to grab your hips to slow you down a little bc you are causing an earthquake with a magnitude of 6.9

but instead of slowing you down now you are making him jump on the bed with you too LMAOAOAOAOAO- imagine someone breaking in and seeing two floating figures on the bed

He's like "SLOW DOWN Y/N-"

But nuh uh you are too caught up in your own horny world so you continue to milk him (Fr tho calm down queen aren't those legs tired?🦵)

After cumming for the 5th time he tapped out LMAO-

You gave him a concussion bc of making him bounce for too long KSJFHJSDKFGSDKJHSD- POOR KATSUKI

He was laying there, unconscious with drool dripping down his mouth and it took you three full minutes to realise that he passed out (OMG I'm gone-)

Fly high Katsuki Bakugo 🕊️🕊️

Dw tho you made sure to pamper him the morning after, bringing him a breakfast tray filled with pancakes and a cup of coffee. A cute innocent smile plastered on your face

"Morning, baby!"

Needless to say, he was shocked ( pretty sure he thinks it was the hottest night ever but doesn't wanna hurt his own pride by telling you that)

"WHAT HAPPENED-"

Todoroki

BAHAHAHA OMG OK LISTEN-

So both of you are lovebirds obv because Todoroki would be the most caring boyfriend ever (i'll fight you about this one 🥊🥊🥊) so its impossible not to be in love with him

So pretty baby thinks it's going to be all about kisses, vanilla, sweet loving, him showing how much he cares about you etc.

AND HE IS A VIRGIN

Todoroki being a virgin is such a turn on he trusts you enough to give his first time to you (aw❤️🤍)

...but you didnt know that he was a virgin

I mean come on look at him how can he be a virgin while looking THAT PRETTY

So one time, while you guys were chilling on the couch watching Titanic and snacking on some strawberries together he decides to make the first move and gently holds your hand while whispering sweet things to your ear and then you hear the magical word (open sesame zimzalabim this coochie 🔮)

"Y/n, I wanna do it."

BIG MISTAKE SHOTO VERY BIG- So being the horny queen you are the wicked horny grin makes its way to your lips and baby is concerned Before he can say anything you immediately grab a strawberry and stuff it into his mouth and quickly try to get him off of his sweatpants

Then you work your magic on him by giving him the best and first head of his life ✨ and trust me he is enjoying it very much

Mmmm yes that famous glock glock 60000 GOBBLE UP BABES don't let em Santa Claus looking pubic hair get into your nose tho🎅

Pretty moans were filling the living room while his fingers lock with yours

But the baby was too lost in his own pleasure so he accidentally bit the strawberry and took it out of his mouth

But you noticed so you grabbed a new one and harshly shoved it into his mouth

"Dont. swallow. the. strawberry."

Babies eyes went wide

YOU SCARED HIM

AND IT WAS HIS FIRST TIME TOO

he %100 looked like this-

So now he was drowning in his own pool of saliva trying not to bite into the strawberry while his eyes were rolling at the back of his head (bc of your amazing tongue skills)

Spot the difference between your mouth and a vacuum cleaner

NONE

When i tell you, you were sucking him DRY

like the next Todoroki generation got to the point of extinction

at this point he was trying to pry you off of his dick bc the overstimulation was TOO much lolol

Poor baby accidentally covered the couch with small burns

when you lifted your head to check up on him you were met with a sobbing Shoto

BOY WAS GASPING

Literally thought of bringing him an oxygen tank but decided against it bc he calmed down after receiving your loving kisses You layed his head on your chest while combing through his locks with your fingers, you made sure to give him a great aftercare

"Are first times are this rough?"

You choked on Casper the ghosts dick

"WHAT-" Literally mourned for two hours bc of treating him so roughly LMAO

A/N: I'm done- sorry for the typos if i have any, i was too lazy to edit :p

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weirdmarioenemies · 1 year

Text

Name: Mr. Egg, Mr. Pickle, and Mr. Hot Dog

Debut: BurgerTime

BurgerTime is one of those retro games and that's about it. It existed, and it's Retro!, and I feel like people don't really care about it aside from that. It never even got an awkward attempt at a scrimblo adventure reboot, like Frogger did! Poor BurgerTime.

Anyway, my first time playing BurgerTime was not by playing BurgerTime at all, but a SpongeBob Flash game clone of it. I have no personal connection to BurgerTime itself... but I know it has some enemies that are living foods! I always get a kick out of that! So I'm going to talk about some of the various design incarnations of them!

These original designs are exactly what you would expect from a 1982 arcade game. I feel like I've seen Pac-Man ghosts drawn EXACTLY like this. I like how Mr. Egg has the strangely realistic crispy bubbling detail around his edges. They're all fine.

...is what I felt before I noticed their elbows and knees! Ew! Bones! Wretched creatures!

Ohoho... now what have we here? The in-game sprites are delightful! The simplicity makes them very cute! Their feet are interesting, being just little floating lines, except for Mr. Egg's, because his legs are made of amorphous albumen! Mr. Egg is really the breakout star here. Look at his yolk! That's his EYE! This is so awesome! That's such a rare design choice to see, especially since egg creatures that are not of the "creature hatching from them" variety are pretty rare themselves.

Mr. Pickle is no slouch either! I appreciate him being specifically a pickle slice, often portrayed as nicely crinkle-cut. I just have to question why he is a villain! Pickles are one of Burger's best friends! This is like if Cheese was a villain! I think if anything Mr. Pickle should be a cute little sidekick on the side of burgers, and in his place can be, I don't know, Mr. Olive? Of course, pickles are much funnier than olives!

Mr. Hot Dog is not as interesting as the other two, but a simple sausage with eyes and feet is still cute. He is like the leader of the bunch, the main antagonist of our hero, Peter Pepper, who I do not really care about. I like that it's him! Burgers and hot dogs are like counterparts, but in no way equals. Hot dogs are easier to hold and eat, but burgers are just Better. And hot dogs have finally decided to give burgers a piece of their mind!

This flyer art is funny. I don't LIKE any of the designs showcased, but they're funny! Faces are moved around on the foods, noses are introduced to the series, and Mr. Egg is now a slice of a hard-boiled egg. You will also notice the elusive Mr. Lemon! Mr. Lemon is not real! I don't know why there is such an emphasis on lemon here. Finally, of course, you will notice the personified Cheese, as she noselessly beckons Peter to recline atop a beef patty. Ooh la la! Don't you wish you were invited to hang out with such a beautiful female cheese who is a girl woman?

Really, the designs of the core food fiends never diverged much from the classic cartoon-style versions they started out with, appearing like that in pretty much every sequel. Except...!

In BurgerTime World Tour, which was not a good game at all, these guys have been utterly rebooted! Now known as Frank Furter, Ruthless Dill, and Sonny! Are these their real names? Or just some similar guys?

The designs are rather basic, as to be expected from Foods With Faces, but it IS interesting seeing them generally made so much more monstrous. Something ESPECIALLY interesting is that Sonny the egg is the only one with limbs, reminding me of how Mr. Egg is the only one to have actual legs in the original sprites!

Ready for the SCARIEST redesign from World Tour?

This game's version of Peter Pepper is this horrible gentrifying millenial and I'm glad his game was prematurely delisted. I hope he got eaten by an egg and chewed by teeth made of yolk. I hate him!

#burgertime #mr hot dog #mr pickle #mr egg #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako #long post

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dingochef · 11 months

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OFC (Reader)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Roleplay, power differential, cum play, p in v, oral (m&f receiving), dom/sub elements, edging, orgasm denial, masturbation, slight shoe kink

My small contribution to Kinktober.

Masterlist

Measure of Man

You are seated at your dining table, waiting for Jake to arrive home and to find the sticky note you left on the front door,

"Lt. Seresin,

Report to my office immediately.

-Dr. Matthews"

This idea has been floating in your head for awhile, an opportunity to have a little different kind of fun with Jake. Frankly after the shitty day you had at work, the appeal of getting outside of your own head and piss poor mood sounded good and hopefully you'd get a good orgasm or two out of it.

Jake steps into the house holding the sticky note in his hand, a quizzical look on his face as he holds it up. You talk before he can.

"Take a seat, Lieutenant Seresin," you direct Jake to sit in the kitchen chair pulled out from the table. You've staged your dining room table to be a "desk" including an old name plate that reads, "Dr. Elsa Matthews, PhD."

Jake gives you a slightly raised eyebrow as he sits down.

Picking up a file folder you ask Jake,

"Do you know why you're here?"

"No, El,--" he responds tentatively before you cut him off.

"I thought you Navy guys were good with titles, please address me as Dr. or Ma'am. I've been called here to evaluate your ability to go on a very important mission."

"Okay, Ma'am," he responds, his Texan accent coming out, he nods to complete the act of deference.

"We have two options, one, I ask you questions and you give me answers you think I want to hear," you say walking around the kitchen table to sit on the edge, crossing your legs. Jake's gaze at your legs tucked into a tight pencil skirt and the high black heels you're wearing does not go unnoticed.

"Or two, we employ a more hands-on method," you finish.

Jake smirks that cocky grin of his and sits up a little straighter, his brain having caught on to your game.

"I'd be interested in hearing more about this hands-on approach, Ma'am."

"It's a little unorthodox, but trust me when I say you'll be satisfied with the results. So, what will it be, Lieutenant?"

You uncross your legs and recross them as he ponders your words, your movement distracting him slightly,

"Uhh, the second one," he answers as he clears his throat.

"Excellent, let's get started," you say hopping off the table, "Take your clothes off, we'll start with the physical examination first."

Jake looks at you not sure exactly where this is going,

"I thought this was a psych evaluation, Ma'am."

"Is a comprehensive exam to evaluate a few characteristics like your overall fitness for the mission, physical stamina, impulse control, your ability to follow orders, and most of all my satisfaction that you're up to the mission requirements. If you don't want to do this, Lieutenant Seresin, I can just move on to my next appointment,"

you glance down at the file folder on the desk,

"A Lieutenant Bradshaw? Maybe he'll be more cooperative and eager to please me?"

Jake scowls and stands up and starts to strip, starting with his uniform shirt.

"Oh, I think you'll find me very eager to please and definitely will satisfy all your requirements, Dr. Matthews,"

he says, stripping off his uniform shirt and undershirt draping them across the back of the chair. He kneels down to untie his boots, pulling them off along with his socks that he neatly tucks under the chair. Jake stands up in a parade rest waiting for your next command.

"Everything, Lieutenant. You'll find I'm very thorough in my exam," you say, as sternly as you can as you reach forward and cup Jake through his khakis. His hips buck forward reflexively and his cock starts to harden under your hand.

Jake hides a small grin as he slowly moves his hands to his belt buckle unlatching the gold metal. After undoing the button and zipper he pushes down his pants and underwear in one smooth motion before standing back up. His cock proud and erect in front of him.

You pick up a fabric tape measure and a clipboard from your "desk" and step over to Jake.

The tape measure slides easily over one of Jake's biceps; you pretend to write down a measurement on your clipboard. You let the tape measure trail around Jake's body as your hands smooth over his hard muscle and golden skin and you "accidentally" bump your body into his, like when you step away after measuring his waist you let your fabric covered ass graze his erection. All the while you're marking down "measurements" on the notepad and occasionally humming small words of praise. Jake is standing perfectly still and the only way he lets on how he is affected by your touch is the occasional sharp inhale when you graze his cock. Your last move is to wrap your hand around his cock and hold it out to be measured. You hold the tape measure end to the base of his cock, the cold of the metal tip causing him to startle. Your other hand lifts his member up and you pull the tape measure along length, earning a light grunt from Jake. You let the tape measure fall away and keep fisting his cock. Jake looks down at you trying to read your face.

You maintain a disinterested, professional look as you continue to jerk him off, enjoying the muted moans and grunts as he keeps up the facade. Just as he starts to thrust his hips in time to your motions you pull your hand away, pulling an anguished whine from Jake.

Satisfied with your teasing you step back and lean against the table.

"Impressive Lieutenant," you say,

"Peak physical condition."

Jake is lightly glaring at you while his dick drips precum, his green eyes locked onto yours as he awaits your next direction. The power and tension in the air along with Jake's naked body on display has wetness pooling between your legs. You sit back down on the desk and open your legs as much as you can in the tight pencil skirt. Jake's eyes automatically drop to your apex as the skirt starts to slide up. You can tell the moment he locks onto the lacey thong you're wearing; you have no doubt that there is a darker patch visible on the delicate fabric betraying your arousal. Jake smirks a little at that revelation.

"Next is the oral exam," you say, trying to maintain a professional tone. Jake nods and raises an eyebrow.

"Kneel lieutenant," you order and Jake slowly lowers himself to the floor, still a few feet away from the table.

"Your next task is to make me come with, what I've been told, is quite the mouth on you," Jake breaks into a smile and starts to shuffle forward on his knees to get closer to you,

"As timing is everything you've got five minutes to make me come, starting now."

You hit a timer on your phone laying on the table to emphasize your point.

You had expected Jake to dive in, frenzied to get you off, but he starts at a slower pace kissing up your legs and between your thighs. His confidence in his ability to make you cum translating to a leisurely pace. When he reaches your lace covered mound he breathes your scent in deeply. He drops a sweet kiss over the dark spot and slides his hands up to pull your thong off dropping it to the floor. Jake picks up your feet where they are dangling and places them on the table so you are butterflied completely open for him. The anticipation and just how close he is to your pussy makes you squirm with need. He is kissing all around you, except where you need him most. Finally, he runs his tongue down through your folds into your slit and back up around your clit. A loud sigh mixed with a moan escapes you as you try to hold yourself up so you watch Jake's every move. Jake lets out a muffled moan as he licks your clit. Two of his thick fingers circle around your slit, he gently slides one in quickly followed by the other. The stretch just the right side of intense and you feel yourself gush more arousal around his fingers. He moves his fingers in time with his assault on your clit. That burning need inside you starts to build deep in your belly. Jake curls his fingers in a come hither motion as he speeds up his efforts on your clit. The change in sensation ratchets you up another notch closer to your peak. Jake recognizes the flutter of your soft walls and your breathy moans and speeds up even more, determined to push you over the edge. All it takes is one furious suck on your clit and you are soaring a loud scream bursting forth from you.

You lay down against the table catching your breath as Jake continues to leave gentle kisses around your mound and your thighs.

Leaning up on your elbows, you take in the sight of Jake as he wipes his chin on his arm. Grabbing the clipboard you turn the timer off and inform him,

"You have successfully passed the oral portion of the evaluation, with some time to spare."

Jake smugly grins from between your legs awaiting your next request.

"Take a seat, Lieutenant," you order and Jake complies quickly.

"One characteristic we look for in a mission leader is the ability to control your base impulses, to put others first," you state, walking around his chair, your fingers trailing across his broad shoulders.

"I can assure you that I'm very in control and everyone comes before me," Jake says, earnestly.

You have to bite your cheek not to laugh at the double entendre Jake is laying down.

"This next exercise is designed to test that theory exactly."

Jake watches you with his intense green eyes as you stand in front of him and start to unbutton your very professional white blouse revealing the matching bra to your thong on the floor.

You turn your back to Jake and unzip your skirt letting it fall. Your bra follows soon after till you are completely naked save for your heels in front of Jake. He greedily eyes you up from head to toe, a subconscious lick of his lips betraying his lust along with his obvious erection.

Walking confidently to where Jake sits you straddle one of his legs and pull his chin up so your eyes meet.

"I'm going to ride your cock, but you are not allowed to come. If you feel close say, "parachute." I might ease up or just keep fucking you, see how far I can push you. Say "Red" if it's too much and we stop, understood, Lieutenant?"

Jake swallows hard and responds,

"Yes Ma'am."

You bend down and quickly take Jake's hard cock in your mouth as far as it can go, the action punches out a surprised moan from Jake. You pull off and keep a hold of his cock as you guide it inside of you, a long moan of satisfaction boiling up from Jake's throat. You enjoy the feeling of connection and see that Jake is doing everything in his power not to start thrusting up into you. He waits patiently for you to move. Feeling a bit generous you grab the short hair at the back of his neck and pull, forcing his lips up for you to greedily kiss. You start a slow roll of your hips up and down his cock. Jake's hands hang at his sides.

"Hands behind your head," you order and Jake complies.

You lick your fingers and reach down to rub your sensitive clit as you move up and down.

"Quite the impressive performance so far, Lieutenant Seresin. I look forward to the rest of your evaluation," you say, your pace of your hips steadily increasing along with your rhythm on your clit. You watch every twitch and look of pleasure on Jake's face as you ride him. Jake grips at his own hair and tenses his arm muscles as he tries to stave off his impending release. You put as much muscle as you can into your movements up and down which pushes you closer to the edge.

"Mmm, I know I'm close to another. How are you doing? You're not going to disappoint me and come, are you?" you tease.

"No, Ma'am. Want to be good for you," Jake grits out, eyes rolling back as you climax on his cock, squeezing hard as you peak. You're relentless as you keep riding him, bracing your feet on the chair by his thighs to give you even more leverage. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans of pleasure, and Jake's grunts through gritted teeth. You manage to squeeze out another orgasm before Jake grunts out,

"Parachute."

You still your hips, but stay perched on his cock. You dismount and turn around so you can guide him in from behind.

"Good control, Lieutenant. Let's resume," you say as you start to ride him again. You repeat this game several more times, driving Jake to the edge and then stopping short. Abruptly you stand up disconnecting from Jake.

Jake looks lost as you look down at him, his dick hard, red, and pulsing.

"Please, El, need you, need to come," he pleads, breaking his character.

"Lieutenant Seresin, I will not tolerate your insubordination and lack of respect. Stand up," you order, your voice a bit hard.

Jake nearly stumbles as he follows your order, he stands before you in a parade rest, chest slightly heaving. You lean up and kiss just below his ear as you lazily stroke down his chest, just ghosting over his cock.

"I was going to let you come, Lieutenant, but now I'm not so sure. Your impulse control and ability to follow orders leaves something to be desired. You're going to have to do a good job of convincing me why you should come." You sit back down on the desk.

"Yes Ma'am. I understand and I apologize for disrespecting you," Jake replies, the building desperation apparent in his voice.

"Come closer," you bark and Jake steps closer.

You trail the toe of your shoe up Jake's inner thigh and just barely lift his balls with the shiny patent leather; the ecstasy on his face betrays how much even this little touch is pushing him closer to the edge.

"Why should I let you come, Seresin?"

you ask, mockingly, as you run your shoe on the underside of his dick. Jake lets out a ragged sob of a moan, grateful for some touch. He slowly starts to thrust at your foot, obviously desperate for something.

"Please Ma'am, please let me come. I'll eat you out for the rest of the day, the rest of the week. I'll live under your desk and give you head during all your appointments," Jake pleads, eyes screwing shut as he continues to thrust at your shoe and the air.

"Negotiating, good tactic. Glad to see you can think on your feet. Touch yourself, Lieutenant."

You drop your foot away as Jake starts to fist his cock. He opens his eyes, the desperation to come heavy in his eyes.

"May I come, Ma'am?" he rasps out.

You pretend to ponder it for a moment watching the panic start to build on Jake's face which quickly turns to pure need as you slide off the table and to your knees in front of him. You take his cock in your hand and continue to stroke him.

"I think you've passed my evaluation today. I'm satisfied with the results, are you Lieutenant Seresin?" you coo.

You finish your sentence by taking in his length into your mouth, relishing in the sounds you are pulling out of Jake at this needy moment. You start to bob your head along his cock, determined to push him over the edge.

"Yes, fuck…ahh, yes, I'm satisfied with the result, Dr….ahhh, shit, Dr. Matthews. Please, may I come?" he asks, voice strained.

You pop him out your mouth and continue to jerk him off,

"Yes, you can come."

Jake lets out a loud low moan as he climaxes, spurts of hot cum landing on your face and tongue. His jaw agape and muscles tensed as he watches his release puddle on your face.

"Holy fuck, fuck, El," he stutters a long with the last thrusts of his hips to eek out the last drops of pleasure.

Jake reaches out to gently cup your face as he catches his breath, his thumb catching some of his come and pushing it onto your tongue. You suck lightly on his thumb earning a small moan from him. He turns around and hands you his discarded T-shirt to clean up.

Mostly cleaned up, you wrap your arms around Jake's neck and pull him down for a sweet kiss. Jake wraps his arms around you, returning the gesture.

"Was that okay?" you ask, suddenly feeling a little off. Roleplay was something you had discussed before but today was probably a bit of a surprise for him.

"That was very okay, and you did a good job of checking in. Trust me to know my limits, El. Also it was hot as fuck and I may have cummed my brains out. Shower?" he says, soothingly to you.

Your doubt quelled, you lead Jake to the shower and sit him on the bench, washing his hair first. He leans into your touch, letting you take care of him.

"Anything in particular bring that on, El?" Jake asks, after a few minutes, as you scrub his back.

"Very shitty day at work, some asshat vendor kept talking over me and mansplaining something I had to remind him that I have a god damn patent on and my boss didn't seem to care. Just felt so frustrated and…small," you say.

Jake turns around,

"So you wanted to be the powerful goddess that you are by ordering around your very manly, virile, burly, extremely handsome, peak of maleness, strong aviator boyfriend?" he asks, getting to the heart of the matter.

You smile at his self praise and duck your head into his chest,

"Well, yes, when you put it that way I feel a little embarrassed."

Jake cups your chin and pulls your face out to meet his gaze, he sweetly kisses you on the forehead,

"Don't be, El. It was hot as fuck and I'm glad I'm here for you in a way that was very mutually pleasurable. It really turns me on when you take what you want, what you need."

"Thank you, Jake."

"Anytime, El. Anytime. Plus it gave me a couple of ideas for the future."

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@midnightmagpiemama

@mygyn

#top gun maverick #hangman #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #top gun smut #jake seresin smut #hangman smut

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