#bomber formation

[nocternalrandomness]

Mitchell's over the National Museum of the USAF

From front to back: Panchito, Betty's Dream, God and Country, and Barbie III.

#B-25 #Mitchell #Bomber #warbirds #Vintage aircraft #bomber formation #fly over #airplane #aviation #aerial photography

[supplyside]

bomber squadron

#bomber #B52 #aerospace #USAF #US Air Force #formation #Vietnam #Vietnam War #war #military #Boeing

[robo-swag]

#robot swag competition #black bomber #super bomberman r #mortal kombat #tumblr stop ruining the formatting of my polls ill kill you #poll competition

[whataboutfractions]

just realized i never shared this particular bit of speculative thunder + max narrative rambling from discord

#bmj max #bmj thunder bomber #gonna add transcript after this tumblr just tends to fuck up the formatting when i do

[fiberglassandflowers]

jackets and coats being a metaphor for childhood!!!!!!!!!!!!

#accidentally set this to be in title format but whatever it's how im feeling #walter giving his bomber coat to dotty. trip having that one emo ass jacket that he has a similarly styled sweater to. can anyone hear me #talking

[blurredcolour]

IV. “I Trust You Know What You’re Doing?”

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

Struggling with the forced separation of your transfer and promotion, it does not take long for you and Bucky to plan a trip to London together. But even while you're on leave, the world around you continues to do its best to tear itself apart.

Warnings: Language, Grief, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral - f receiving, implied virginity loss, protected vaginal sex, condoms, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: Welcome to this massive installment. I have no excuses, only apologies. Also I only had the fortitude to proof this once, there may be more errors than normal, but I didn't want to delay it any longer - I will correct things as I find them. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

ETA: The image descriptions for the letters contain the text within to allow for a screen reader or anyone who cannot read cursive. Click the ‘ALT’ button to access.

Word Count: 8497

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

Wycombe Abbey could not have been more different than Thorpe Abbotts if it had tried.

The private, or in a most confusing twist ‘public’ as the Brits called such institutions, girls’ school had begun its life in the 17th century as a manor house before being transformed into a much grander residence near the end of the 19th century. The school had opened in 1896 with only forty students, but that number had swelled to over two hundred by the time the building was requisitioned for use as the Headquarters of the 8th Air Force.

Stained glass windows, stonework, archways, and wood panelling now replaced squat concrete buildings and rough-and-ready Nissen huts. Though everything was just as drafty, so at least the temperature provided some familiar consistency to your new surroundings. As you descended from your quarters tucked away in some forgotten corner of the attic, down a set of precarious servants’ stairs, you nearly took a wrong turn – again. To your credit you had only been here three days and the maze of corridors and rooms further divided into offices for USAAF purposes was nearly unnavigable.

Chiding yourself softly under your breath that your office was to the right and not the left, as though the sharpness of your tone might really drive it home this time, you quickened your steps still hoping to beat to postal clerk to the outgoing mail box that sat on the corner of your desk. It had been more of a challenge than you were expecting to write the letter clutched in your hand, but the daily meetings that senior operations officers held at 1015, 1600, and 2200 were your responsibility to attend and record via frantically scribbled notes to be typed up in a more professional format later.

These were the meetings at which mission targets for the entire 8th were chosen. The strategic value of various locations was discussed alongside weather reports and aligning with the RAF’s Bomber Command for maximum impact against Nazi Germany. After the first meeting, it would be decided if a mission would even be conducted the following day, and each Division, Wing, and Base involved would be put on alert to allow them time to begin planning the operation. By the time the last meeting ended, the target and approach would be finalized, and the official field orders would be issued.

It made for a remarkably long day, even with breaks for meals, and though you were guaranteed every other Friday off because of this, by the time you crawled into bed near midnight, you only had enough energy to add a few lines onto the letter you had begun to Bucky as soon as you arrived. It made for a rather disjointed and rambling piece of correspondence, in your opinion, but you could not bear to keep him waiting any longer – not wanting him to assume you had forgotten to write and not knowing how long the thing would take to reach him regardless.

Dashing into the office you shared with Myrtle, a very stoic young woman with dark hair and thick eyelashes from Rhode Island, you exhaled in relief to see the post still waiting to be collected and added your letter to the pile. Unlocking your desk drawers, you began setting up for the day, hoping it would reach him quickly.

His reply arrived in your inbox just over two weeks later, near the end of September. Sliding it into your brown leather utility bag, you did your utmost to ignore its very existence throughout the first daily meeting, and your subsequent production of the official report thereof. Taking your lunch break a little earlier than usual paid off in that the line was much shorter at that time. You inhaled the mystery stew and rolls, hardly tasting them, before taking your letter outside to read in the rare afternoon sunshine.

It was short, and it was unspeakably adorable that Bucky did not write in cursive, but there was no lack of his personality in his response. It was as though the very essence of him had been distilled into the ink itself and you could not help the broad grin that bore its way into the muscles of your cheeks, making them ache as you read it.

Glancing quickly at your watch, you realized there was still time to send a reply before the second post pick-up but based on the length of time it had taken for this exchange of letters, it was unlikely another would reach him with enough time to plan for October 8 – your next Friday off. Worrying your lip between your teeth as you considered your options, you landed on a rather devious idea, one that quite honestly would have never come to you if not for the deep need to reach Bucky immediately. Vi had a telephone on her desk in the weather office, a number that you had access to given the strategic importance of weather to the senior operations officers.

Myrtle would be on her break for another fifteen minutes…you had not even realized you had made up your mind before your feet began to carry you back inside, up the stairs into the mercifully still-empty office. Digging out the directory, you found the number for Thorpe Abbotts’ weather office and took a shaky breath as you sank into your chair.

‘Keep it brief, keep it free of classified information. Worst you’ll get is a reprimand.’

The devious, deceptive voice in your mind was a new one, fostered, perhaps, by the rather carefree man you found yourself deeply entangled with, but it was not one you were about to disobey. Lifting the handset of your phone from its cradle, you cleared your throat as the operator answered.

“Norfolk 7315, please.” You tried your best to sound calm and collected as the line clicked and began to ring.

“Phillips.” An unexpected voice answered, and you gulped, knowing Ruth would be less likely to participate in some romantic scheme.

You greeted her in kind, trying to ignore the ache of loneliness as she gasped softly.

“I was hoping you might pass along a message for me?”

“To a certain Major?” You could hear the grin in her voice and felt the pressure on your chest ease.

“Indeed. October 8. I will arrange accommodations.”

“Your line should he need to reach you?”

Hesitating a moment, you ultimately decided to provide it as well, wanting to ensure he could in fact contact you if something came up. Or perhaps any of them could – should the worst happen.

‘Don’t think about that.’ You chastised yourself internally.

“You’re well?” Ruth asked and you smiled softly.

“I am, please tell everyone I miss them terribly.”

“Will do, have to go.”

There was a ‘click’ as she hung up and the line went dead but the lightness in your heart could not be extinguished.

Nine days later you found yourself waiting on the platform at Liverpool Street station awaiting the arrival of Bucky’s train from East Anglia. Given the proximity of High Wycombe to London, you had arrived much earlier that morning and checked into the hotel already, dropping off your small bag and come to wait for his train – well you assumed he’d be on the first train of the day, but as the carriages disgorged a sea of humanity and you had yet to spot him, your brows began to furrow in doubt.

You were about to fish the folded schedule you had picked up from the ticket counter to check the next arrival time when he was suddenly wrapping an arm around you, pulling you tight into his chest as you gasped softly in surprise.

“There you are doll.” Bucky sighed, dropping his bag at your feet to slide the other arm around you as he pulled back to nudge your cap out of the way and deliver a breathtakingly thorough kiss that you were not entirely sure was appropriate for the public setting you were in.

Not that you stopped him, you own arms snaking about his midsection to cling to him tightly.

Pulling back, his eyes raked over your features lovingly as you both inhaled deeply to fill your greedy lungs.

“Well, well 1st Lieutenant.” He smirked proudly as he lifted his hand to stroke the chrome insignia you now wore on your lapels courtesy of your promotion, leaving smudges of his thumb print.

“You are leaving my uniform in disarray, Major.” You chided playfully, unable to hold back you grin, even for a moment, to sell the joke.

His forefinger hooked behind the knot in your tie, tugging it out from beneath your jacket and pulling you closer – eliminating the last few inches of space that remained between your bodies.

“Good.” He rumbled against your lips before kissing you deeply, severely undermining the infrastructure of your knees.

The loud racket of the train cars as they shunted into one another jolted the pair of you apart, making you realize you were among the last few remaining on the platform as the now empty train left the station.

“Let’s get you checked in and your bag dropped off.” You murmured, clearing your throat as you unbuttoned your uniform jacket to straighten and re-secure your tie.

His hand slid into yours as the pair of you made your way out of the station and he happily followed you to a hotel you’d found near his station, knowing that he’d be here longer than you and it would be easier for him to find his way back to base this way. Sitting patiently in the lobby as he checked in and ran his bag up, you smiled as he returned to hold his hands out to you.

“C’mon doll, I have a whole plan.”

Taking his hands, you rose to your feet, raising your eyebrows curiously. “A whole plan?”

He leaned in to murmur against your ear, “you’re not the only one involved in planning you know.”

You pulled back quickly, eyes wide with a touch of panic. You were quite certain you had never told him just what your new position entailed, and there was no way he could simply guess it.

“Easy doll, your phone line.” He winked as he maneuvered your arm through his, turning to lead you out the front door.

Slowly exhaling, it clicked into place. Of course. Just as you were able to find Vi’s desk number in a directory, it seemed Bucky had been doing a little research of his own.

“Well, shhh.” You chastened him firmly, laying a finger over your lips, looking very much like an anti-slander campaign poster.

His hearty laugh in response did little to convince you that he took in the message.

“Now, how do we get to Hyde Park…” He murmured, pulling a crumpled leave guide out of his pocket.

“The underground.” You answered easily, leading him back towards the very station he had arrived at but this time down to the tube station entrance where the pair of you purchased your tickets.

His touch rarely left you – even if he was forced to release your hand, you could feel his palm pressed against your lower back as you made your way through the crowded subterranean space. You were glad to have him with you this time, not particularly a fan of this mode of transportation, but it certainly was an efficient way to get around London. Pressed close together on the train, you took the opportunity to simply gaze at him, basking in his presence after nearly a month apart, not missing the way his mouth ticked up at the corner cockily.

“Missed you too, doll.” He winked and ducked a kiss to your ear before guiding you off the train at your stop – once he had confirmed with you it was indeed your stop.

Blinking your way back into the light of day, you pointed at a directional sign guiding the way to Hyde Park.

“Perfect, now apparently there are…sandwiches!” He crowed and tugged you over to a sandwich truck that seemed quite popular based on the line of waiting patrons.

Your face was starting to hurt, driving home how infrequently you had found the opportunity to smile in his absence, making you squeeze his hand fondly. Bucky looked back to you quickly as he joined the queue.

“You really did plan everything.” You gulped quickly and he beamed proudly.

“Anything for my girl. What kind would you like?” He gestured at the menu written on the side of the truck.

By the time you reached the front of the line, Bucky was able to easily place your order, including two bottles of lemonade, insisting on paying. Opening your utility bag, you carefully packed the lunch away, earning a rather damp and enthusiastic kiss on your cheek as he snatched your hand to continue onto the park.

“May I ask what it is about this park in particular?” You inquired as the pair of you dashed across the road.

“You can ask…” His cheeky reply had you scoffing in return as you entered the canopy of trees, following a path further and further away from the traffic of downtown London.

Plenty of men in uniform seemed to be out, enjoying the nice weather with women on their arms. Women who, unlike you, enjoyed the luxury of being allowed to dress as they chose during their leisure time. It had been one of many reasons that nearly twenty-five percent of women had chosen not to remain enlisted during the transition from the WAAC to the WAC, the army requirement to remain in uniform even when off-duty. In all honesty, you had not really missed your civilian clothes until just then.

Watching the sheer femininity of those women as they swirled about in their colorful fabrics only drove home how drably olive and plainly cut your uniform truly was.

“You’re a million miles away, doll.” Bucky’s voice cut through the dark clouds that had gathered in your mind and you looked to him quickly.

“Sorry Bucky, it’s beautiful here. Like another place entirely.” You offered him a smile but by the way his eyebrow lifted slightly he did not seem to be entirely buying it. “Have the leaves started changing around the base yet?” You tried changing the subject.

He shook his head, releasing your hand to slide his arm around your waist instead, pulling you closer. “Seems everything will happen later here than back home.”

You hummed thoughtfully, glancing ahead and gasping a little at the glimpse of a sizeable body of water that seemed to be filled with rowboats.

“That’s why were here.”

You turned back to him to see a broad grin had overtaken his face and laughed in excitement as it was terribly romantic.

“If I had known, Major Egan, I would have brought my parasol.” You grinned and he snorted, squeezing your hip fondly.

“No need to put on airs, 1st Lieutenant,” he smirked, “the ride will be enjoyable all the same.”

“Bucky!” You hissed sharply, slapping his chest as he laughed deeply, ducking your head slightly as more than a few passersby shot glances your way.

“C’mon doll.” He chuckled and led you over to the booth beside the dock, paying the fee for a thirty-minute rental before the pair of you headed down to climb into one of the waiting row boats.

Setting your heavy bag on the floor, you carefully stepped into the rather unstable watercraft, settling on the passenger’s bench – denoted as such by the ornate ironwork arms. Bucky followed, seated across from you at the oars, his knees nearly brushing against yours, legs too long for so small a boat. Unbuttoning and sliding off his jacket, he tossed it and his cap to you before rolling up his sleeves and began to row the pair of you out onto The Serpentine, you now knew the small lake to be called.

“I trust you know what you’re doing?” You asked as he appeared to easily manage the oars, seeming at ease in the small boat.

“Mostly.” He teased with a wink before laughing at your slightly aghast expression. “Grew up on the shore of Lake Michigan, doll. Boats are like planes to me, easily managed.” He soothed.

It was difficult to decide which view to settle your eyes upon, the verdant green of the still-lush trees, the throng of boats around you, or Bucky working up a remarkably attractive sheen of sweat with his forearms on display as he propelled the rowboat through the water. A feathered fan would have been a very useful tool in that moment, to hide behind or cool yourself down, or perhaps both.

Belatedly, you realized that Bucky had been speaking this whole time – about events back at Thorpe Abbotts. Giving you the update about the people you knew, the trouble Meatball had caused with a farmer down the road, but he trailed off when he realized you were staring once more in dumbfounded silence at him.

“Doll, you’re going to give me a big head if you keep looking at me like that.” He winked as he lifted the oars from the water, letting the water sluice from the blades before tucking them into the boat on either side of you.

“Y…you’re good at that.” You replied lamely and shook your head. “Hungry?” Leaning forward for your bag, which was in all honestly a lot closer to his feet in the floor of the boat, you froze as everything tilted precariously in response to your movements.

Bucky lay a gentle hand on your shoulder to steady you. “Allow me.” Bending down slowly, he scooped up your bag and opened the flap to retrieve your sandwich and lemonade. “It’s sure tight in here, how did you even make this all fit?”

He tugged a little harder on the packet containing your lunch and your eyes widened in horror as, while he was triumphant, he also managed to send the three condoms you had tucked into your bag scattering to the floor of the boat. His eyes followed the distinct, square, paper packets and you could see his throat bob as he swallowed viciously.

“Doll…” His voice came out rough as a gravel road as he slowly raised his eyes to meet yours. “…been doing some planning of your own?”

“‘A WAC is always prepared.’” You quoted in a mortified whisper, struggling against the urge to lunge forward and hide the evidence, knowing it would only send both of you over the side and into the lake.

You watched another swallow ripple down Bucky’s throat before he offered your lunch to you, carefully collecting the offending items and returning them to your bag before he retrieved his own food.

“Would you mind,” He spoke after taking a rather ruthless and oversized bite of his sandwich, words muffled between slices of bread and chicken salad before he swallowed to start over. “Would you mind if, instead of following the rest of my plan, after these thirty minutes are up, I take you back to the hotel?”

Taking a thick swallow of your own, you shook your head slowly as you felt your cheeks heat up at the implications of that invitation. “I would not mind, no.” You clarified breathlessly and he nodded sharply, gesturing for your as-yet-unopened bottle of lemonade.

Handing it back to him, you watched silently as he lined the edge of the cap with the metal plate holding the oarlock in place, popping it off the bottle with one sharp blow of the heel of his palm.

“Thank you.” You murmured quietly as he passed you the opened drink, taking a deep sip as he repeated the process with his own, draining nearly half the bottle in one go.

Tilting your head back to take in the feel of the sun on your face, you slid your cap from your hair, adding it to the pile of his neatly folded items on the bench beside you, continuing to enjoy your picnic on the lake.

“You heard about Dye hitting twenty-five?” He broke the silence, sounding much more like himself again and you nodded quickly.

“Big news, everywhere in the 8th. Lucky crew all heading home – how did Lil take it?” You tilted your head curiously, raising your bottle to your lips, his eyes following the motion closely.

“Hm? Oh, she’ll be alright…they’re both good at letters.” He nodded, leaning back a little.

You knocked your knee against his affectionately. “Don’t sell yourself short you sweet man, I thoroughly enjoyed yours.”

His eyes flicked to yours quickly as a small smile curled his lips. “Yeah?”

You nodded firmly. “Yeah. Promise to give you more to reply to soon, phone was just necessary to make this happen.”

His hand landed on your thigh gently and he squeezed the flesh through your skirt. “Worth it. Just how long are your days though, doll?”

Your fingers played along the empty glass bottle, and you shrugged. “As long as they need to be.” You replied evasively.

“Mm, I’m going to get a better answer out of you than that.” He threatened playfully as he leaned forward to grasp the oar handles, swinging the blades back into the water and taking the pair of you on a loop around the corner of the lake before returning you to the dock.

Bucky climbed out first, taking his cap and jacket before helping you out easily, kissing you firmly as soon as you were on solid ground. “Let’s take a cab…” He breathed impatiently and you laughed, shaking your head.

“The cost would be astronomical, come on.” You affixed your cap on your head as he rolled down his sleeves and slid his jacket back on before the pair of you made your way back to the Underground.

Bucky’s body was practically pressed against yours the entire trip back to Liverpool Street station, seemingly unable to tolerate any form of separation. As you neared the hotel though, you looked to him slowly. “We should go in as colleagues…I booked us that way.”

He looked at you utterly confused, and you swallowed.

“We’re unwed, there was no way I could book us here together, and they will be none to please if they realize I’ve tricked them. I’ll get my key, you get yours, I’ll come to your room…”

He nodded slowly, arm reluctantly unwinding from around your waist before holding the door open for you to step inside.

“Thank you, Major.” You nodded, sliding your cap from your head as you stepped inside, heading to the counter to fetch your room key as he did the same, the pair of you walking up the stairs to the fifth floor together before parting ways so you could fetch your small overnight bag.

It was rather a waste of money, to book a room knowing you would most likely never sleep in it, but such things were necessary for women like you. Women who chose to go to bed with a man they were not married to in the long light of the afternoon. Taking a steadying breath, you left the perfectly made bed behind, walking down the hall to Bucky’s room and knocking on the door softly.

It promptly swung open to reveal a smiling Bucky, his jacket and cap long gone, along with his necktie, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He stepped back and gestured for you to enter his much larger room with a small brown paper wrapped packet clasped in his hand. Once the door was closed behind you, you let out the laugh you had been holding.

“I did book this under Major John Egan, I suppose they felt the need to give you a nicer room than a Lieutenant.”

He smirked and kissed your cheek, taking your cap and bag from your hand, then pressing the package into it. “Before I forget, again.”

“Bucky you didn’t have to get me anything, you came to see me…”

“Open it.” His eyes danced with anticipation, and you began to pull at the piece of twine holding the package closed, unfolding the utilitarian paper to reveal a brand-new pair of stockings.

You let out an audible gasp as your jaw fairly fell to the floor.

“To replace the pair that got wrecked when you fell.” He smiled, obviously pleased by your reaction.

“How on earth did you…?!” You trailed off, staring up at him in wonderment.

“A man never reveals his secrets, doll.” He grinned and let out a grunt as you launched yourself into his arms, kissing him fiercely at the thoughtfulness of his gift and in recognition of the sheer determination it must have taken to achieve such a feat in rationed England.

His fingers gently plied the items from your grasp, setting them on the bedside table, freeing your hands to latch onto his arms as he cupped your face gently.

“You sure about this, my beautiful girl?” He whispered and your breath hitched in your throat at the tender look on his face just inches from yours.

“Yes.” You nodded quickly, sliding your fingers into his hair to pull his lips back to yours greedily.

A pleased noise rolled from his throat and across your tongue as he coaxed your mouth open, his fingers shifting to make steady work at the buttons on your jacket before he unwound your hands from his dark curls to slide the garment off, tossing it in the general direction of the chair that held his. You could not help the giggle that bubbled up from your chest at that as you moved to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one.

The tug of his teeth on your lower lip quickly transformed your laughter to shuddering breath as you held tightly to the open sides of his shirt, feeling him tug your tie free from your collar before it joined the pile of clothes somewhere on the plush blue carpet of the hotel room floor. Your shirt and skirt were quick to join it, leaving you in your brassiere and slip, garter belt and underwear still hidden from view.

“You have a remarkable number of layers on, doll.” He huffed as his mouth descended along your throat to suck at the crook of your shoulder, installing a dramatic curve in your spine as you arched against him wantonly with a half-swallowed cry of pleasure.

“Y…you have almost as many…” You protested, tugging the ends of his shirt from his trousers before pushing it from his shoulders only to be met with his undershirt.

The sheer broadness of him had never quite been so very apparent and had you licking your lips as you struggled with the last barrier between you and his torso, your ID tags rasping metallically against his.

“Not nearly as complicated though.” He muttered as his fingers worked at the hook and eye closure of your bra until you felt the band go slack and he leaned back to slide the straps down your arms, making you shiver as your breasts were revealed to his hungry gaze.

Bucky’s heavy exhale fluttered against your collarbone, grown cool by the time it traversed the distance between you, and you shuddered slightly, looking to the side shyly. He leaned in to brush his nose against yours tenderly, pecking your lips.

“Whatcha hiding for, gorgeous?” His tone was gentle and had your eyes slowly sliding to meet his, an action he rewarded with a deep kiss.

He continued to distract you with repeated meetings your lips, each time with growing intensity as his palms slid upwards along your sides to cup your breasts. The meeting of flesh had you inhaling sharply through your nose, hands seeking anchor as your fingers twisted into his beltloops where his trousers hung open around his hips – yet again delaying you in your purpose of undressing him. As his thumbs honed in on your sensitive peaks, Bucky elicited all manner of noises from your throat only to eagerly devour them.

“D’ya have any idea how soft you are doll?” He sighed against your lips as he kneaded your tender flesh. “’Cept right here.” He smirked as he tugged at your nipples and you whined his name, pressing impossibly close against him, realizing he was anything but soft.

Your shimmies and writhes against him seemed to serve as a reminder of the greater purpose at hand and Bucky’s fingers ceased their torment, sliding down to your hips to divest you of your slip before beginning to work at your stockings. Toeing off your shoes, you pushed his trousers from his hips, letting gravity do the rest.

“So many hooks and straps and loops…” He muttered as his mouth dipped to the hollow of your throat, though his fingers seemed more than capable of stripping you down to only your underwear.

Seizing your hips, Bucky guided you back onto the bed, and you could not help the sigh at that flew from your mouth at the feel of a real mattress with springs and a duvet, drawing a broad grin across his face as he crawled over you, coaxing you to lay back.

“Precious women like you should always have luxurious beds like these. None of those stinking Army cots…” His hands slid beneath your spine to half guide, half drag you up to rest on the obnoxious mountain of pillows.

Staring up at him in awe, at a complete loss for words, you settled on pressing up onto your elbows to kiss him firmly, hoping to convey your appreciation physically rather than trying to summon speech. As his lips parted from yours to begin sliding down your body, you let out a slight huff of annoyance, earning a chuckle against your collarbone which rumbled through his chest and into your body. He lifted his head slightly as his fingers wove through the ball chain of your ID tags as he seemed to notice them for the first time.

“I always wondered if you ladies had these.”

You bit your lip to smother your grin as he never hesitated to say what was on his mind, a constant stream of commentary on the world around him, and rather than annoying, you found it utterly adorable.

“Are you laughin’ at me, doll?” He smirked and gave a gentle tug, pulling a genuine laugh from you, to which he responded with a brilliant grin. “Alright then, I’ll give you something to laugh about.” He bowed his head to drag the flat of his tongue across your nipple, your resulting whimper bouncing off the walls as he resumed his teasing of your opposite breast.

“B…Bucky…” Your eyes shot wide as his plush lips sealed around that tender peak, applying a positively euphoric suction that had you burying your fingers in his hair and pressing your body closer to his mouth in silent demand.

With careful precision, his knee slid its way between your thighs, applying coaxing pressure to each in turn until you provided enough room for him to settle between them. The feeling of his hard length slotting against your core with only the thin barrier of your underwear separating your intimate flesh had your jaw dropping open in a silent ‘oh’ – a revelation unto itself despite all the experiences you had enjoyed with him thus far. Undulating your hips against his experimentally, you shuddered at the ragged, abbreviated groan he pressed against your sternum, caught in the midst of traversing your chest. Thoroughly encouraged, you repeated the action, savagely gnawing on your lip as he bit off a curse before his mouth reached its destination and laved at your neglected nipple.

Nestling tighter against you, Bucky began to roll his hips against you in earnest, obliterating your ability to think and scheme against him at the blinding pleasure his combined actions induced. You could feel the smug angle of his lips against your abdomen as his mouth was trailing lower on your body, his fingers curling into the waistband of your underwear to peel it from your body. Shifting back to free the interfering item from your legs, he gazed down at you with almost black eyes, his pupils having nearly devoured his irises in his arousal, before stretching forward onto his stomach.

Blinking rapidly, you raised up on your elbows to watch him hoist one of your legs over a strong shoulder and then the other, shuffling embarrassingly close to the apex of your thighs.

“Bucky?” You squeaked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow up at you, his pink tongue darting out the wet his lips, nearly matching the flush that had painted its way across his cheeks and down his neck. “Yes, doll?”

“What…” You swallowed thickly as your throat clenched erratically.

“Making good on a promise.” He replied seriously before stretching forward to deliver a thorough kiss to your folds that fairly sucked the air from your lungs, an odd whistling sound echoing through you as you savagely burrowed your fingers into the bedding.

When his tongue narrowed in on that sensitive bundle of nerves, it was your turn to bite off a curse, slumping back onto the pillows as he hummed against you in what was surely mock sympathy as he most certainly did not let up, his efforts only doubling. As your hips began to jerk and writhe, he slung a heavy forearm across your pelvis to pin you in place, only shifting closer and tracing his forefinger around your entrance teasingly. It was all you could do not to kick and wail as you felt yourself becoming embarrassingly slick, the noises he was making growing ever so obscene and filling the hotel room.

“Fuck!” You whined against your palm as his finger finally sunk into your wet heat, its passage remarkably eased by your arousal, hips bucking hard enough to jar his arm slightly.

“Damn you’re delicious, doll.” He growled against you, lips smacking loudly as he began to suck at your pearl, finger working you open enough to add a second before beginning a demanding rhythm.

“Oh…oh...god…” You cried out in agony, too far gone to remember your desire to be quiet, feeling the tension of pending release growing ever closer under his amorous onslaught.

“I know, I know…” He soothed, only quickening his pace, hooking his fingers towards the front of your body, sending your back into a dramatic curve from the mattress, a tortured moan ripping from your throat. “Oh, I have to see that again.” He rasped and sought that precise spot with a ruthless single-minded precision until he was rewarded with not only the same reaction, but your strangled cry as your orgasm slammed into you with breath-taking force.

As you returned to earth from your visit to the celestial plane, the first sensation you became aware of was tender, damp kisses being pressed to your inner thigh as Bucky murmured soft words of encouragement to you.

“There’s my gorgeous girl, holy hell that was incredible, did you enjoy that half as much as I did?”

You managed a wordless noise in the affirmative that summoned him to your side, his lips feathering kisses up your jaw to your ear, the tickle of his moustache making you laugh breathlessly.

“Good?” He murmured and you nodded quickly, turning to look at his still-expectant face.

“Yes.” You cobbled together a verbal response, and he blessed you with a warm smile which you leaned in to press your lips against in gratitude.

“Good.” He swiped his tongue along your lips before suddenly slipping from the bed, making you raise your head in confusion.

Stalking over to find your utility bag amongst the sea of discard items and clothing, he proudly retrieved the three condoms that had announced your hopes and intentions for you by appearing in the rowboat, unceremoniously shucking off his boxers as he made his way back to you. You had held his length before, stroked it to completion, but that paled in comparison to seeing the full expanse of him in the light of day.

“My gorgeous doll, you might not say a lot, but you sure don’t mind looking at what you like.” He smirked unabashedly as he set two of the paper packets on the night table beside you, unwrapping the third to unroll the protective latex onto his cock.

Rather than letting his teasing words dissuade you, though they did cause your teeth to sink into your lower lip, you chose to allow your eyes to linger on his actions, rather fascinated by the whole process. By the male anatomy as well. Task managed, he was climbing over you once more, blocking the golden light of afternoon that was filtering in through the windows with his body, warmth radiating from his skin. He settled easily between your legs once more, still parted from his early activities as you really had not summoned the wherewithal to move yet, and stroked his length through the lingering slick gathered along your folds.

A broken sigh fell from his lips before they clashed with yours, not quite aligned, but the sentiment was still there, body shuddering as you slid your arms around him to cling to his shoulders. It was difficult to tell just whom Bucky was teasing as he continued to rut against you, the tip of his cock brushing against your overly-sensitive bundle of nerves, both of you huffing through your nostrils until at last he began to sink into you.

Tearing your lips from his, you sucked in gasping breaths at the feel of the foreign intrusion, appreciating the fact that his pace seemed to slow in response to that. Appreciating the pause he afforded you when his pelvis slotted snuggly against yours once he was seated fully inside you. Cracking open your clenched eyes, you gulped tightly as they were immediately met by Bucky’s, crowned by a furrowed brow, but flicking over your features studiously as if awaiting your instruction.

“I’m ok.” You breathed and he nodded, immediately seizing your lips in a kiss once more as he rocked forward, earning a ragged moan as your fingertips dug into the skin of his back.

His familiarity with this sort of activity had always been apparent, but was exceptionally obvious now as he slowly began the rhythmic push and pull to drive you both towards climax. The sheer intimacy of it was too much and yet it was not nearly enough, your body craving ever more, ever faster, with increasing desperation. The rare moments that Bucky’s lips were not on yours, they were filling the room with choked-off moans or statements of the filthiest order.

“God doll, you feel so fucking good around me.”

“So tight. I can feel how wet you are too, even with this rubber on.”

“You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t ya? You’re gripping on me like a…fuck I can’t think when you do that…”

His ability to even speak while experiencing such mind-numbing pleasure, rambling though it was, was fairly awe-inspiring. Your responses were limited to moans and whimpers and cries of his name as his supposition was correct – your orgasm was indeed imminent. All it took was the solicitous stroking of his forefinger against the apex of your pleasure to send you flying over the cliff into paradise, clinging to his body as you cried out in ecstasy.

A string of rasped curses mixed in with several sighs of your name heralded his release as Bucky finished not long after, rocking against you sloppily before sinking down onto your chest with a comforting heaviness. Stroking his back tenderly as he nestled into your neck, you grinned stupidly at the ceiling as you felt quite pleased with your choices.

The pair of you made good use of the rest of the condoms you had brought, with a short break for a meal Bucky procured while you took a bath. He returned with a bottle of brandy as well, finding you still in the bathtub. A lot of water ended up on the floor, a pile of water-logged towels your testament to the attempted clean-up. Eating in bed, you shared stories of your childhoods – Bucky’s about growing up on the shores of Lake Michigan, yours of the small two-storey house with its screen door and front porch from which you had watched your brother play with the neighbourhood boys.

You fell asleep in one another’s arms after the final condom was disposed of, the sun long set, but awoke sometime in the night to the unsettling sound of an air raid siren. Not as common in 1943, yet being as close as you were to Canary Wharves, the Luftwaffe still made the occasional bomb run. Startled to find the bed empty, you sat up sharply to see Bucky sitting in front of the window, completely naked, intermittently illuminated by the flashes of distant explosions and anti-aircraft fire.

“Sorry doll, didn’t mean to wake ya.” He muttered and you shook your head, sliding to the end of the bed.

“You ok?” You tilted your head, blinking into a particularly bright flash.

“Hmmm…” He replied noncommittally, turning back to the scene before him with a frown. “I’ve dropped a lot of those. Done a lot of killing.”

Swallowing tightly, you slid to your feet despite the way your heart was pounding in your throat, padding across the carpet towards him.

“Done your job, Bucky. Done what was asked of you.” You assured him, coming to stand behind him, setting your hands on his shoulders.

“If there’s any balance to all this, my ticket was punched a long time ago.” He muttered sullenly and it was your turn to frown.

Bending down to press a kiss to the crown of his head, you stepped in front of him to block his view, perhaps, hopefully, to block his darker thoughts as you shifted to sit on his thighs.

“Whatcha doin’ doll?” He quirked an eyebrow, mouth falling open in a silent moan as your fingers slid between your bodies to gently stroke his length.

“Lightening up.” You replied, invoking the words of your dead brother’s inscription.

It was impossible to think of a more important piece of advice or a more importance source in that moment. A young man who would never get the chance to spend one more time in his lover’s arms, who knew you better than anyone in the entire world. And you were most certainly going to follow it. You had to be up in less than three hours, to catch the first train to High Wycombe, and you would not pass up this moment with Bucky. The future was unknowable, your brother’s death had certainly taught you that.

Bucky’s fingers curled into your hips as his mouth descended onto yours greedily, clearly in agreement with your plan, despite the lack of remaining condoms. Shuffling closer, you guided his now fully hard cock into your body, your soft noises of pleasure colliding with his in the space between your parted lips. Working together, with plenty of guidance from his firm grip, you began to rocking your hips, using his shoulders for leverage. His head fell back to stare up at you in awe, jaw slack, adam’s apple bobbing viciously.

“Christ, I love you…” His face betrayed such vulnerability, lips trembling slightly, that you quickly lifted your hands to cradle his cheeks, even as your lashes grew suddenly damp.

“I love you too, John. So much.” You replied thickly, rather resenting the dramatic wobble in your voice.

The tiniest of smiles pulled at his lips before his face grew serious once more and he lunged forward to kiss you hungrily, hands anchoring your shoulders so he might thrust up into your body with a sudden need. It was all you could do to hang on, though pleasure itself still managed to sweep you away, leaving you only with the vague recognition of him half pulling out mid-release.

It was terribly difficult to leave him in that comfortable, if messy, bed a few hours later. He did not make it easy either, impossible to untangle from your body like an unwieldy piece of seaweed. Yet somehow you managed to make your trains and arrive at your desk at the appointed hour. Focusing on the task at hand with the pleasurable ache between your legs was altogether another challenge, forcing you to sit on first one hip and then the other.

You had just returned after the lunch break when your phone rang, your greeting barely out of your mouth before Bucky’s question came down the line.

“Did you know you know where they played yesterday’s match?” He asked flatly and it took you several seconds to comprehend that he was speaking in code and just what he was getting at.

You swallowed painfully. “Yes, I did sir.”

Of course you did, you were in the room on Thursday night when they had chosen Bremen as the target for yesterday’s mission.

“A lot of our best players struck out, you know. Buck included.”

He sounded utterly unlike himself, cold and distant, not the man you had left just hours ago in that hotel room in London. All the same, your heart broke for him, and for yourself too. You liked Major Cleven – this war was nothing but cruel.

“I’m so sorry B-Major Egan.” You corrected yourself quickly, eyeing Myrtle across the room.

“Well I hope you all pick a better field for tomorrow’s match because I’m pitching.”

You opened your mouth to reply as your heart dropped through the floor, but the sound of the handset slamming into the cradle resounded over the line before it went dead, giving you no opportunity to speak. To wish him luck or, heaven forfend, goodbye. You hung up your phone with a slightly shaking hand as a deep sense of dread threaded its way through your stomach.

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

Read Part Five - "I Trusted You!"

"Trust" Series Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @precious-little-scoundrel, @rubyfruitjungle, @storysimp, @mads-weasley, @xxanaduwrites, @bcon24, @fxxiva, @slowsweetlove, @hockeyboysarehot, @darylas

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan imagine #john egan fic #john egan #john bucky egan #mota fic #masters of the air fanfic

[jiminiecrickets]

LOVE’S LITTLE DAGGER. KTH / M!READER

summary. taehyung hates your guts, so you rearrange his. maybe he likes it more than he should.

wc. 3.6k

tags. smut | (eventually) sub bottom!tae, dom top!reader, playboy!tae, unprotected sex, brat taming (?), overstimulation (implied), teasing, handjobs, choking, shotgunning (position, i think?), they’re both very verbal and annoying, use of “puppy” and a couple mentions of “whore” (tae receiving) so maybe a bit of degradation

[ part two ]  [ requested + 2 ]

a boy with fire engine-red hair slams into your chest with both hands. your books and notes scatter to the floor, pens skidding across the empty hallway, and you barely avoid knocking your head against the wall.

"oops," he says innocently, those infamous smoky dark eyes fluttering down at you. "you should watch your step."

frustration bubbles like lava beneath your skin. just as he steps away, your hand darts out and hooks in the ripped knee of his blue jeans.

the snapping tear of cloth brings a satisfied smile to your face. he whips around, alarm flashing across his features, and he yanks his leg away to check his pants.

"juhyun's waiting for you in our hall," you inform him smugly, shuffling your papers into a messy stack and stuffing them into your messenger bag. you chase your pens, too used to his jabs to give him much more of a reaction. you glance up. "and her brother. she says you did some unspeakable things to the both of them, and they'd like a word with you. judging by the look on their faces," you slip the last handful of pens into your bag and rise to your feet, "i'd say you're in for a treat."

his brow furrows. he still smooths his jeans consciously, fiddling with the white threads. "who?"

"you fucked her," you say, "while dating her brother. don't you remember? it was last month."

he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his silk bomber jacket. "why would i? it wasn't even serious. i told him that."

"i'm just the messenger, taehyung. before you go..." you lean in, your lips brushing his earlobe. a spiked shiver runs down his spine. "i got a hundred-and-two on that test."

with that, you turn on your heel, carrying on down the hallway and rounding a corner. your shoes click on the linoleum sharply, and taehyung glowers at where your figure once was.

that's the third time he's smacked into you this week. why haven't you blown up at him yet?

just once, he'd love to see something on your face aside from that vile, arrogant smile and composed gaze. he's never seen you angry. nobody else has, either. 

when others see you, they see gentleness. no one but him knows the look in your eye when they meet his, glittering with edged, haughty superiority. there are a thousand whispers about who you are and who you might've been – some say that a violent past turned you into an all-around pacifist.

it confuses him. why would someone so apparently gentlemanly and non-confrontational arouse such wild rumours? what is it about civility that impresses less than savagery? why are his pants so tight?

he scowls and shifts his belt, messing with the pant leg you'd seized earlier. it still doesn't sit right, twisted halfway around his calf, but he's running out of time for his next class and he doesn't have a lot of late strikes left.

he hurries away, pretty girls and their pretty brothers the farthest thing from his agitated mind.

two hours later, taehyung slaps a stapled paper down in front of you. everyone in a six-metre radius in the cafeteria falls silent, wide eyes trained on the absolute fury rippling from taehyung's body. they whisper behind their palms.

"you fucking cheat," he hisses without any attempt at discretion. "a hundred-and-two. a hundred, and two? what'd you do, fuck the t.a.?"

neatly, you place aside your chopsticks, sliding the plate of sushi out of the way for the paper you dig out of your bag, formatted exactly the same as taehyung's all the way down to the size of hanging indents and margin spacing.

you flip to the last page and tap your finger against a brief paragraph before the conclusion. "one extra mark for addressing category nine-b. it was one sentence on an otherwise packed page full of more important parts, so i'm not surprised you skimmed over it."

taehyung flips over to the rubric stapled to the back of his assignment. he scans down to nine, and his frown deepens with every line.

a single-line paragraph indented as if it was part of the previous one. extra marks: /1.

he wants so badly to slap the smirk off your face that it takes every effort to dilate his blood vessels. an incorrectly-formatted guide has just cost him everything.

"hey, a hundred per cent is still amazing," you comfort him sympathetically. your eyes glimmer pridefully as you lean back. "you know, i think we're now about even."

he snatches up the papers, and after a moment's pause, your yet-to-be-touched coffee. "i don't want to be even," he mutters, and he stalks away.

—

while your spaghetti simmers in a pot in the kitchen, taehyung saunters by. he drops half a shaker of salt into it. "oh. my hand slipped."

your jaw clenches. "taehyung, this is very petty. even for you."

he grunts, watching as you pour out the steaming water and rinse off as much salt as you can. most of it dissolved as soon as it hit the bubbling water, and you make a note to add more tomato into the base. maybe it'll help hide the salt. 

"i wouldn't be if someone would stop inviting his friends over to play mario kart when i'm trying to get my rocks off."

"what?" you ask with a roll of your eyes, stirring a pot of sauce. "you want me to listen to your weird noises for two hours straight?" you mimic his growly moan, low in the throat and reverberating through the chest, and taehyung's back teeth grind and he shifts on the sofa. he's never heard anything like it come out of you before.

"then stop opening my door!" he argues.

"it must get stuffy in there."

jumping to his feet, taehyung crosses into the kitchen in two steps and jabs your chest with a finger, anger flushing his neck to his ears. "you are the reason i'm like this. i haven't been able to do anything for three fucking weeks because of your stupid blue shells – i’m constantly aware that you could walk in at any second! the next time you bring someone pretty over, you're gonna be seeing me so much you'll practically be fucking me instead."

you turn away from the pot and turn off the stove. taehyung glances down uncertainly at it – why'd you do that?

"you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you ask impatiently, an octave deeper than usual. you step forward; he doesn't give. he can feel the minty heat of your breath against his cheeks.

"don't be ridiculous," he scoffs. "you? you wouldn't know what to do with a cock if it was in front of your face."

your gaze sweeps over his body – casual, clean. yet, it feels as if you've stripped him raw.

"where i'm interested, i don't need to know what to do with your cock," you murmur. "and after i'm done with you... you'll be too gone to care."

warmth rides up his spine. it takes a moment for him to register that it's your hand creeping beneath his shirt and bumping over the ridges of his spine.

"what's wrong, taehyung?" the way his name rolls off your tongue sounds too sweet to be the poison he knows it to be. "never taken a cock before?"

"of course i have," he snaps without realising what exactly has been said. his throat bobs and he averts his eyes, gnawing on his lower lip furiously. "i mean... well..."

your grin widens. "well?"

"just... me. my hands."

"your hands?" you repeat with an arched brow and a soft chuckle that has taehyung hot under the collar. "cute. can't find anyone willing to tame you, hm?"

taehyung bristles. "i don't need taming," he growls, leaning in those few centimetres more until your noses touch. "but i bet you'd like to try."

he slams his mouth onto yours, twisting his fingers in your hair. your hands close around his slim waist, pushing him back against the wall, and he gasps as you tug his hair back to give you better access to his swan-like throat, warm and golden.

a muffled groan trickles past his tight lips as you shove your knee between his thighs. your hands roll his hips for him – as if he doesn't know what to do.

his grip tightens in your hair. bastard.

you nip at his neck, littering hot, stinging hickeys along the smooth line of his throat. his dick throbs embarrassingly in his jeans and he reaches for it.

you slap his hand away, tilting your leg to grind your cock into his. he gasps and moans as his knuckles hit the wall and you take the opportunity to press him harder into the wall, restricting how much he can move.

for someone so flammable, he's awfully good at taking everything you throw at him.

"you – hah – fuck everyone so roughly?" he sighs.

"only the brats." you tug at his belt with deft fingers. "mm. you're already so hard, puppy."

he glares as best he can with lust-blown pupils. "i'll kill you."

"really, puppy? how, if you can't even control yourself like this?" your palm glides over his hot cock. "tell me, baby."

"i'll – i'll get the hundred-and-two next time. it'll be my name next to the number one, and you'll be the one pinned to a stupid wall – fuck!"

you let loose a long, slow whistle, and taehyung's face burns. you grin, pressing a kiss to his lips. "for someone who's in bed with another every other night, you're surprisingly desperate. you're close, yeah?"

"shut your mouth," he grits out between clenched teeth, his hips rutting into your twisting hand. "mm – s'your fault. you and—"

"me and my blue shells, i know," you tease, ignoring your own problem for taehyung's adorably furrowed brows. your hand jerks sharply and you'll never forget his stuttered moan and the way he half-crumples, knees buckling as his fingers dig into the wall behind him. "come up with something new, and i'll let you come."

his head whips around so fast he's at risk of snapping his neck. "what?"

"you heard me, puppy." you swipe your thumb over his leaking slit and he groans into his shoulder. your hand slows to a turtle's crawl and you glance down with a hum, encircling him with a thumb and forefinger. "it’s very pretty. but i'm bigger."

he bucks his hips. "fuck you."

"don't get me wrong, baby. you've got nothing to be ashamed of. i'm just getting you ready – mentally."

he could kill you right there. but, as you tilt his head to meet your lips, he can't help but soften just that little bit more, already half a mess with his jeans struggling around his hips.

"i hate you," he groans, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as you squeeze his cock, and his face flushes with heat as it twitches in your palm and you glance up at him with a smug grin. "no, i – i'm serious. you're a competitive jerk who's crazy-obsessed with me and beating me at everything. you're the poster boy for desperation for validation. i bet if i told you that you did well on your last assignment, you'd cream your pants like a teenager."

you chuckle and press your lips to his ear, loosing a soft, teasing moan just for him. "careful, taehyung. don't make me angry. you're the one taking it."

the way your words roll over him, concentrating in his cock, pisses him off. he twists his wrists out of your grip and grabs your jaw, thumbs at the base of your ears, and yanks your mouth onto his as he steps forward. you push his jeans down and he chuckles breathlessly as you urge him to jump – he does, and you catch him with impressive ease. he knows where his centre of balance is, and he's considerate enough to shift it close to yours.

you can't believe you're calling kim taehyung considerate. his hobbies include stealing your food and locking you out of the dorm when you leave to discard the rubbish.

"my room," he mumbles against your mouth, his kisses hot and nerve-stinging. "it's closer."

"read my mind." you toss him onto his bed, resting one knee against the mattress as you tug your belt off. taehyung pulls his hoodie over his head into an indeterminate corner and crawls closer, sliding his palms up against the soft denim of your jeans, gazing up at you with dark, hooded eyes and a proud curl at the corner of his lips. he nips the warm skin above your waistband when he draws the zipper down with his teeth.

"you're stupid," he whispers, "and handsome. i hate you."

"a hundred and two," you remind him, and reach for the back of your collar. you tug it over your head and taehyung's appreciative gaze doesn't go unnoticed. "i hate you, too. you're a bully and immature. you drink all the milk and never buy more."

he turns over onto his stomach and spreads his knees, tossing his hair with a kiss-plumped smirk. "give me a reason to."

your palm glides down his spine, resting over the high curve of his ass. he pushes back into your hand and gasps as you press your thumb into him, his cock pulsing.

"idiot! who s-starts with the..." his eyes flutter shut as a moan bubbles its way from his belly. "oh..."

you hum. "someone's been having their fun, hm? were you playing with yourself right before you threw half a kilo of salt into my poor dinner? that explains why you're so tetchy – and sensitive."

"shut up!" he grumbles, his cheeks the darkest shade of pink you've ever seen. "just – just fuck me, already. i've done half your job for you."

"you sure?" you reach below him, fingers grazing his pulsing cock. it's embarrassingly eager, and he arches his back prettily in an attempt to taunt your attention elsewhere.

"i can take it," he says with a stupid heft of confidence. he grins, cocky. "guys always add a couple of inches."

you scoff and grab his thighs, pressing them together. he might think he doesn't need it, but he needs to relax as much as possible. he hums and presses his cheek into a pillow with a teasing sway of his hips, rolling back against your bulge as you fiddle with his bottle of lube.

he hears the shuffle of cloth and the clink of a metal buckle, and he grows impatient as the lid clicks shut. "shit, take any longer and i'll go—ah, god!"

you smooth your palms over his heaving ribs, hushing him as you rock your hips deeper into his. 

"f-fuck," he moans, arching back into you. "oh, shit, baby, you feel so big in me... fuck me, damn it—mmh..."

you start off slow, gently allowing him to get used to you. after his first verbal outburst, he dissolves into pleased moans, finally relieved of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. he relaxes, expression soft and open as his brow furrows.

he's pretty when he's not biting at your fingers. you smirk.

you draw back until just the tip, then snap your hips forward.

he hisses, legs kicking at your thighs as he shudders, pleasure running up his spine. you stroke a line down his spine and squeeze his supple ass.

setting a slow, easy pace, you grind your hips into his ass, hushing him as he judders and whines into his pillow. his teeth clamp down on the soft cotton and you groan softly as he clenches around you, the tight ring of muscle scraping against your shaft.

"still think you can take it?" you murmur with a smug grin, smoothing a hand over the dip of his waist. "you're shaking like a leaf, taehyung."

"sh-shut up." he grits his teeth and throws his head back with a blissful moan as you give his ass a playful smack. "feels good, s'all..."

"good," you reply, cocky amusement leeching into your voice. it's so familiar that something inside taehyung instinctively tenses with anger. "maybe a good lay is all you need to loosen up. metaphorically, of course."

"fuck you!" he barks.

"you'd like that, wouldn't you?" with a harsh thrust, you stroke his hips, gently pulling him backwards onto your cock. he looks so pretty, stretched wide around you – it's a boost to the ego you don't really need. "always have to come out on top, always have to be the one giving orders... can't take a fucking break around you. you're really quite infuriating."

"a-at least i'm not a fucking pushover!"

he lets out a sound between a moan and a mewl as you shove him down, speeding up until your hips slap against his ass loudly. if someone were to walk by, they'd have no questions about what you're doing.

you twist your fingers in his dyed locks near the base of his neck and tug sharply, silencing his gasped, raspy moans as he buries his face in the pillow, his eyes rolling back briefly as his whole body bounces harshly.

the cheap dorm bed creaks. roommates were assigned by gender, which was a lousy and backwards attempt to stop students from fucking. it wasn't as if they tried very hard, either – a quartet of girls could reside three steps away from a quartet of boys because segregating entire buildings on gender was apparently too much and not good for pr.

still, you can't help but grin, tipping your head back with a soft groan. breaking the rules has never felt so good.

"you like getting pushed over, puppy. moaning like a whore for my cock, spreading your legs so eagerly – you've hit a new low. you'd let just about anyone fuck you, wouldn't you, puppy? even people you can't fucking stand?" you purr into his ear, your chest rolling against his freckled back. you connect the cute dots with your tongue and he shudders with a whimper, fists twisting in his bedsheets. you pump his cock rapidly in tine with your thrusts and he leaks endlessly, slicking up the warm tunnel of your fist as he bucks furiously into it. "what, not gonna say anything now? c'mon, puppy. you're not agreeing that you're a whore, are you? goad me into fucking you harder – i dare you."

all he does is whine tearfully, hips jerking against yours as your cock slams into his swollen prostate and glides past, filling him up like nothing ever has before.

"i'm gonna c-come," he cries, scrambling to cover his mouth when a particularly well-aimed thrust unravels every thought in his head. he struggles to build them back up, rocking harshly against the mattress as your cock pulses hotly inside of him, twitching at the sight and burning heat of him. "gonna come, gonna come, fuck fuck fuck, ye-e-es—!"

with a final low moan, he spurts in your fist, his thighs trembling and twitching as you fuck him through his high. his chest heaves and he lets himself relax into the pillow he hugs under him, lashes fluttering as you gradually slow, your warm, slick fist milking him of everything he's worth.

“i win,” you coo.

dazedly, he pants softly against his pillow, lashes fluttering as you scrape your nails against his scalp. you pull it back into a messy ponytail at the back of his head, as red as his cheeks. his heart thumps against his chest, deep and echoing to his core.

"f-fuck," he whispers, mewling in surprise as your thrusts speed up again. he bucks against your cock and cries, "fuck—!"

somewhere between his moans, slowly sliding up in pitch, you can gather a single question: why?

you flip him over, thrusting in deep as you settle yourself between his golden thighs and wrap a hand around his untouched throat. 

so smooth, so agonisingly perfect. you'll have to amend that.

his dark, glossy eyes can't stay on you for long, rolling back as he spreads his shaky legs wider and half-sobs. he claws uselessly at your hand and wrist.

you slide it further up, gripping just behind his jaw to stop him from thrashing and throwing his head back. you force him to look you in the eye with those pretty, unfocused, blown-out eyes, nearly black with just the slightest hint of honey-gold around the rim.

"what, you thought we were done?" you glide your hand down his tense stomach and over his cock, smearing his cum and arousal over his hot skin. he shivers, sweat-slick, and flushes in embarrassment, oddly docile. "i still haven't finished, puppy. you'll take it like a good boy, won't you, taehyung?"

he releases a soft, choked whine, his lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly. he nods, twitching as your cock buries itself deep in his guts, and his hands fall limply beside his head, fisting the abused pillow.

"atta boy." you pull his thighs around your hips and he locks his ankles over your back, holding you close. you want to watch him as your tip punches his prostate, over and over, chasing your own ruthless high.

you want to fuck that lazy, cocky attitude out of him. you want to see him break.

and you will, you muse as you watch him writhe and whimper, his soft, pretty cock bouncing on his tummy. but not yet. he's still glaring up at you with shiny eyes and hot pink cheeks, embarrassed at the predicament of his own making.

you wrap your warm, messy fist around his cock and grin hungrily as it throbs in interest. he jerks, eyes widening almost fearfully as he tugs your cock in deeper by his legs around your waist.

you know where to start.

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #dom reader #bts x male reader #bottom bts #bottom taehyung #taehyung x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #taehyung smut

[captain-price-unofficially]

“Assembly Ships” were bombers that had been rendered unfit for combat missions but were still airworthy, used to organise formations before they travelled to their targets. They were painted in bright colors and dazzling patterns so they were easy to see.

#wwii #aviation #western front #strategic bombing campaign over Europe

[planesawesome]

Douglas SBD-5 Dauntless scout bombers Fly in formation over the Caribbean, circa 1944-1945. Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives.

[usafphantom2]

A tight B-17 bomber formation

@AcePilotAv via X

[dellalyra]

Hey,i saw your reqs are open! So if i may, can i request for gojo with a fem s/o who i as strong as him but no one knows that since she hides that from EVERYONE. (Maybe she thinks shes alone with a curse and she is toying with a special grade curse and easily kills it, and gojo accidentally sees that and is like.... You're stronger than you let ppl know?)

Thats it and i hope u have a great day!!

Family Formation - Part Nine

Summary: Satoru discovers the extent of readers cursed technique.

CW: fluff, canon typical violence, mentions of mythology, fluff, fluff, teen satoru and reader (17/18), the elders (angry face)

A/N: this was SUCH A FUN REQUEST I love reading about powerful readers so this was a lot of fun to write, I wrote it this was bc I also felt I needed to explore their dynamic pre-relationship and also Y/N’s cursed technique before I get to other *ahemshibuyaahem* parts of the story. thank u all so much for all the love and support :) <3

Recommended Listening:

Brutal - Olivia Rodrigo (reader’s fight)

The Fruits - Paris Paloma (the explanation)

The Tradition - Halsey (the backstory)

Won’t Bite - Doja Cat (the ending)

The sunlight reached its peak, reflecting off Satoru’s bright white hair. Geto was bored and taking a ‘rest’ day and Shoko… well, she threw a water bottle at home when he even approached her room. That left you, he needed someone to hang out with, something to do because all of this hanging around was going to drive him even nuts than he already was. He text Shoko, asking where you were since you two were joined at the hip usually and you weren’t answering your phone. She replied telling him you’d been sent on a mission alone that morning – some abandoned orphanage down by the Shinjuku district. The next line nearly made the man’s eyes pop out of his head – a semi-grade one? Alone? You were only in second grade and the same age as him. Only a 1st year. Sure, you could hold your own in a fight but – this seemed like a reckless match.

Pulling on his sneakers and bomber jacket (not wearing his uniform felt weird) he Googles Shinjuku Abandoned Orphanage and finds an article about one being shut down 3 years ago due to the children speaking of ‘witnessing paranormal activity’, it had been closed due to the terrible publicity surrounding it. He rang for a driver and pointed him in the right direction.

A 20-minute ride was filled with Satoru thinking about how he should have been sent on this mission – not you, he was the strongest sorcerer alive after all. He kept telling himself the gnawing feeling in his gut was excitement for a fight – not worry, he wasn’t worrying about you. No, not. Why would he?

He could hear Suguru’s voice in his head from their last mission together.

“Bro, you love her. Just accept it, my guy. It’s clear she’s into you too.”

The car pulls up and Satoru unfolds himself from the back seat and waves the driver off. The building in front of him is surrounded by barbed wire fences, it’s been vacant for a long time if the boarded-up windows set in the building’s imposing front are anything to go by. He could sense a strong cursed energy, definitely a semi-grade one – along with something else, something stronger. Something far more ancient and far more powerful. It was familiar but different.

He had to find you.

He pinpointed the location where both energies were – third story, east wing, 5 doors down the corridor. He raced his way down thinking about how he’d love to practice his techniques warping abilities so he could quit all this running around. Maybe someday in the future, he’ll be able to just *poof* into a room. He was surely gonna do that to annoy Shoko.

He slowed down, nearing the room as he heard a familiar laugh coming from the room.

He knew that laugh, it always made his heart skip a beat – but why were you laughing now?

You were meant to be in danger. Not that he was hoping to be your knight in shining armour so he could see that shiny look of adoration in your eyes – no, that’s ludicrous.

The door was hanging off its hinges and nothing could have prepared him for what he saw inside the room.

You.

Y/N.

But – different.

You stood, your stature still miniature in comparison to his lanky, boyish frame but you seemed so much larger now, your presence was pulsating through the room – overwhelming to anyone but him.

Your feet were bare on the concrete floor and you seemed to almost hop around your prey, your tiny little hands, nails usually painted a pretty pale green – we’re still pale green but not your nails, no – claws were protruding out of your dainty little hands. He could see from here they were as sharp as any cursed knife. Your hair, seemed longer and wait, were those… vines? Vines and leaves seemed to grow from your head as naturally as the hair itself, mingling with the pretty cascade of your hair down your spine. Your eyes he so often couldn’t take his own off were alight and you were talking, and when you opened those pretty lips that he flirted with you about how much he’d like to taste your lip gloss – leaving you to tell him to save his flirts for someone he was into (both of you were so oblivious to the obvious feelings that you held for each other that Shoko and Suguru might cry if it went on any longer), he saw two sharp as needle fangs, pearly white on your pillowy lips.

You were completely and utterly ethereal.

What shocked him – was the mess in the middle of the room. A grotesque mess of a curse – horrifyingly long, spindly limbs attached to a body that was just stretched mottled skin over bones – the whole body covered in beady eyes, almost insect-like. The creature had no discernible head, just those torturous limbs. He’d seen worse things before.

He had seen your techniques, you could do things like to make a wall of thorns to deflect curses - he’d seen you summon whips of vines to lash at and bind a curse, he’d even seen you seemingly have a chat with a ladybug one day. And of course, your marksmanship with your cursed longbow was unrivalled, sniping shots that seemed impossible. He knew you were a very capable sorcerer, the most intelligent he knew in the school (even beyond Nanami). Your love for books helped that too.

What shocked him was what you had done. It looked like the very earth was cooperating with your every whim, grasses and vines and tree branches had broken their way through the floor and were caging the fighting curses limbs as they grew weaker and weaker against your onslaught. There was a beam coming through the ceiling, moonlight? At 2 pm? It seemed to sear and burn the curse in licking flames as it shot down onto it before returning to the shape of a small, silvery orb and absorbing itself into your palm.

“You lay here, waiting each day for night to fall, didn’t you? To prey on these children, to torture their little minds with fears and terrors – to be the monster under their bed. The children who were already scarred and frightened – but you knew that, and you loved it, didn’t you? Oh, you loved the feeling of drinking up the screams of those innocent children – and do you know what that makes you? It makes you a monster. Funnily enough, my family were taught and raised for one destiny, but me especially, I was born with ancient rage, and I was born with the strength for one thing – to kill monsters, just like you.”

And with that, you notched an arrow into your bow and muttered something under your breath.

“You won’t harm anyone anymore. Sleep well.” And with a smile, the arrow tip glowed a soft gold and flew threw the air into the restricted body of the curse who was quickly engulfed in a golden light as it screamed and fell, returning to the ground as nothing but dust.

“Nurture the earth now, do some good for the world.” You whisper, low enough that Satoru could barely hear. How you still manage to keep your heart so soft will always amaze him.

Satoru’s phone dropped from his hand, and you spin, notching another arrow into your bow and aiming directly at his head.

You gasp when you realise who’s here.

“Gojo, what are you doing here? How long have you been there?” You ask, lowering your weapon.

“Y/N. What the fuck. YOU HAVE CLAWS.” His jaw was hanging open, hardly believable image of what he’d seen.

That ancient energy wasn’t another curse, you hadn’t been in danger – you had been the danger.

You sigh. Gojo would have found out sooner or later, guess it was sooner. A part of you was worried about what he’d seen, would he think it ugly? Would he think you cursed? This boy – you had accepted your feelings but even though you thought (idiot) he’d never love you back, you didn’t want him to think any less of you.

Well, no escaping this conversation now.

“Wanna grab boba? I’m done here so, we can grab some on the way back to school. I’m guessing you have some questions.”

Uncharacteristically quiet, he just nods.

You walk ahead, slinging your bow on your back and taking out your phone. He sees you dial Yaga’s number.

“Hey, yeah it’s all done. Just as we thought.” You say, and he hears the deep rumble of his sensei’s voice through the speaker.

“Yeah thing is, I’ve had an unexpected visitor. Seems someone thought I might not be able to do it alone so showed up at the end. Yeah, I have it handled. Yup, exactly who you think. Yaga! Stop! I’ll see you later.”

You hang up the phone, just as you reach your favourite boba shop.

“Drinks are on you, Satoru – you gatecrashed my mission.” You smirk.

“Hardly gatecrashed if I turned up and feared for the safety of my pretty face!” The shock had worn off now and he was just in awe and desperate to hear what the fuck he witnessed.

He ordered you both your usual orders and sat across from you at a secluded table outside. You notice the dewy drop of sugary tea on his lip, his skin glistening under the golden sun. God. How can someone be that beautiful, surely it’s illegal?

“So sugar - you’ve been hiding something from your dearest darling best friends, haven’t you?” He looks at you with eyebrows raised.

“Not my choice. It’s a complicated situation. Yaga thought it best to keep it under wraps until I’m 18.”

“I hear ya – but the question still stands: keep what under wraps? Here was me coming to my princess’s rescue,” your cheeks flushed at his (what you thought) casual flirting.

“It’s a long story – you sure you’ve got nothing better to be doing, Mr Honoured One, no ladies to dazzle with those pretty eyes of yours?” You laugh, slurping up a brown sugar Pearl.

“Oh I’ll always have enough time for you, sugar, plus – am I not dazzling a pretty girl now?” You both giggle it off, unaware that he’s being serious and that you were dazzled by him long before today.

There’s a beat of silence.

“My family’s inherited technique. The elders think it’s long extinct but I was born with it. Legend says my family is descended from dryads, forest spirits, you’ve known that nature is the root, no pun intended, of my technique since the start but – it goes a bit deeper. I’m listed as grade two, but only because the elders don’t know the truth. I’m meant to hide everything until I’m 18, so only 5 months left to go anyway. The elders will throw a bitch fit when they find out. Your ancestor La and mine worked together, and when I was born my mother and grandmother chose to keep the technique hidden until I was legally an adult and could make my own informed choices about whether or not I wanted to stay part of the jujutsu world. The elders… don’t take kindly to my family. We’re kind of considered outcasts, like the Inumaki clan.” You say, taking a breather to sip your drink.

“Why? Your mom is so nice” He adds in.

“Ah well, my family, we’re very much a matriarchal family. The women have typically done everything in their power to fight the elders on their idiocy. Given that they’re old, sexist men – this didn’t go down well. So we’ve typically been hounded by them. Then, I was born. Not only the heir to my clan but a woman which ancient cursed abilities. Our family has always scared them, but I’m their worst nightmare trifecta. I made a deal with my family, I’d keep it secret until I’m 18, then I’m free to do as I wish..” You added, smiling, because in truth – being the bane of the elders’ lives was a source of pride.

“So they hid it until you can make your own choices, and take the helm of the clan leader at 18?” He asks.

“Yeah, my mom just wants a quiet life. She’s travelling the world writing of jujutsu sorcery and my grandma is holding the fort. We’re not quite the Gojo’s, Zen’in’s or Kamo’s – but we’re a very old sorcery family, so we’ve influence enough.”

“Y/N. You know you’re not grade two, right?” He asks, dead serious.

“I know, Gojo. I’m special grade. Yaga is a friend of my uncle’s so he agreed to keep it all quiet.” You finish up your drink.

“Gojo – what I’ve told you, only Yaga knows. This stays between us, okay?” He nods and crosses his heart.

“And don’t worry, you’re still the strongest. I’m just good backup.” He giggle, swinging your bag over your shoulder and motioning for him to follow.

“You say that part of your technique is ancient? And thought extinct? Which part? Now you’ve told me I wanna see everything.”

You look back and forth between the streets, and you find an empty alley.

You stop.

He stops.

“Snow leopards are your favourite animal, right?” You ask and he wonders why his heart skips a beat at you remember such a silly detail.

He cocks an eyebrow and agrees.

“I’d tell you to close your eyes, but it won’t do much good.” And with that, a flash a golden light encompasses you and instead of the oh so pretty girl he loves seeing in front of him is a snowy white, fluffy, golden eyed leopard.

And in a flash, you’re back in front of him.

“I can’t do it for long. It’s still really taxing to do and zaps my cursed energy.” You say, gripping his elbow and making your way back to the main road.

“Y/N. I hope you know. That might have been the coolest thing ever. Oh! Can you do like a little mouse so I can just hide you and carry you around in my pocket all day and give you cheese and –” his enthusiasm is cut off by your loud laughter.

“Maybe when I’m stronger Satoru, then I’ll stay with you all the time and you won’t have to follow me to my missions when you’re bored.” You’d text the driver to pick you both up.

“Hey! I was worried! I didn’t know you were some freaky nature fairy when I left did I? !” He grins, and god he looks so handsome in the late afternoon light.

You swat his arm.

“You’re one to talk Mr. I have nearly the same number of eyes as a spider.” And with that he tosses your much smaller form over his shoulder.

“Hey – you might be cool but I’m still the strongest and right now, it’s time for me to demonstrate that.” You half heartedly thump at his back as you laugh at him to put you down.

The car pulls up, a curious gaze from the driver who is thoroughly confused by why you’re over Gojo’s shoulder.

He tosses you into the backseat of the car.

“That’s for keeping secrets from your bestest friends ever.” He flicks your forehead, buckling your belt.

You just roll your eyes.

The drive back home is filled with idle chatter, but Gojo can’t stop thinking about how goddamn fucking perfect you are. You’ve always been strong, kind, beautiful, sexy, funny but god the feral determination he saw in you today shook him to his very core. You say your goodbyes as you head to shower and sleep, but your phone buzzes that night – with a terribly photoshopped picture of your face on a mouse, captioned – ‘btw- ur technique, it’s really beautiful Y/N, I’m really hpy I saw you like that, and thx for telling me, u nd ur secret r safe w me ’. You can’t fight the smile on your face, a weight lifted off your shoulder now that the boy you love knows everything about you – well, except that one secret. The one that you’re hopelessly in love with him.

Maybe some day.

TAGLIST: @vesta-ro @lilithlunas @mialexandruh @sassy-cat-in-town @madam-ri @cjm-cookiethief

Requests open <3

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #pixie writes: family formations

[nocternalrandomness]

Bomber Task Force Europe

#Bomber Task Force #Boing #B-52 #Stratofortress #USAF #Bomer #Aircraft #Bomber formation #B-52H

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[dronescapesvideos]

A formation of U.S. Marine Corps Douglas SBD-5 Dauntless dive bombers from Marine Scouting Squadron 3 (VMS-3) "Devilbirds" in flight near the Virgin Islands. 1943.

➤➤HD IMAGE: https://dronescapes.video/SBD5

#SBD-5 #dauntless #U.S. Marine #youtube #aircraft #airplane #aviation #dronescapes #military #documentary #aviation history #ww2 #wwii #u.s. marines #Dive Bombers #Virgin Islands #military history #world history #history #aviation photography #aviation lovers

[love-studying58]

happy Masters of the Air release week. In honour of the series due to release on the 26th, I wanted to list a few faces we’ll be seeing throughout the series. I want to particularly note the crewmen of the 100th in hopes this makes sense to viewers who either a) didn’t have time to read any books based on the 100th bomb group, or b) want to read Masters of the Air by Donald L. Miller during/after the tv show aires. My lovely friend on tumblr @kylaym was happy to message me on instagram regarding who’s who for most of the 100th bomb group posts. She gets that everyone in uniform looks the same; same haircut, moustaches, masks, everywhere, etc. She mentioned it is always better to remember a bunch of lads as groups and crews than as individuals!

Here we gooo..

Colonel Neil “Chick” Harding

A West Point graduate and the school’s football coach prior to the war. Harding was a seasoned aviator who truly emulated much of the 100th’s attitude. He exhibited an appreciation for his crew’s mental and emotional well-being.

Major John C. “Bucky” Egan and Major Gale “Buck” Cleven

Two of the squadron commanders, Majors John “Bucky” Egan of the 418th Bomb Squadron and Gale “Buck” Cleven of the 350th, had piloting skills which matched their personalities. (Found top row 3rd and 4th members from left to right).

Captain John D. Brady

He served as a pilot in the 418th bomb squadron and was shot down during the mission to Munster on October 10th, 1943. (Shown here on the far left). He flew overseas in A/C #42-30071 “Skipper” as 1st Lt. Pilot. 2nd Lt’s being Lt. John L. Hoerr [Co-Pilot] and Lt. Harry Crosby [Group Navigator and Captain].

M/Sgt. Kenneth A. Lemmons

He served on the 351st Bomb Squadron and was one of the first crew chiefs assigned to the 100th Bomb Group. After being a part of the U.S. Air Force's ground crew, he was subsequently promoted to the position of flight chief. (Shown above in the front).

Harry H. Crosby

Harry served as a navigator in the 418th Bomb Squadron and later became Group Navigator for the Hundredth, however, his struggle with airsickness often hindered his ability to navigate. (Found above beside Brady on the right). Harry Crosby replaced Lt. Payne on the crew of Douglass.

Payne is found above on the right, beside Harry Crosby.

Lt. Howard B. “Hambone” Hamilton

He was a bombardier mostly known for flying with Brady’s crew.

On the October 10th Munster mission, crew #32 was led by Major John C. Egan as Co-Pilot. Near the initial point “Mlle Zig Zig” was hit by Flak, resulting in the following:

- Sgt Clanton passing away

- wounding Howard Hamilton and Roland Gangwer. (Both ended up spending a long time in the hospital).

- the surviving crew members bailed out but were taken prisoner.

Hamilton is seen above on the far left. Beside him on the left is Lt. James Douglass and Captain Frank Murphy.

Captain James Douglass

Served as a bombardier in the 418th Bomb Squadron with the Everett Blakely crew. (Seen above in the first picture beside Blakely).

Major Everett E. Blakely

Was a career officer of the United States Air Force. He was a highly decorated pilot of the B-17 bomber with the Bloody Hundredth Bombardment Group of the 8th Air Force. He is most commonly known for his crew’s plane “Just a Snappin”. On a mission to Bremen on October 8th, 1943, his plane was severely damaged by flak and enemy fighters. He later became the Group Training Officer (Shown above on the right and next to Major John Egan in the second picture above).

Blakely’s Crew:

Major John Kidd- Command Pilot

1st Lt. Everett Blakely- Pilot

2nd Lt. Charles Via- Formation Officer in the tail (SWA on the mission during Black Week)

1st Lt. Harry Crosby - Navigator

2nd Lt. James Douglass - Bombadier

T/Sgt. Edmund Forkner - Radio operator

S/Sgt. William McClelland - Ball Turret Gunner (WIA on the Black Week mission)

S/Sgt. Edward Yevich - Waist Gunner (WIA on the Black Week mission)

S/Sgt. Lyle Nord - Waist Gunner

S/Sgt. Lester Saunders - Tail Gunner (KIA on the Black Week mission)

Lt Roy Claytor

Roy Claytor was part of the 350th Squadron. Above, he may be flying as a command pilot in this mission or practice with the Claytor Crew.

He is seen above on the left, beside Cleven.

Major Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

Rosie joins the unit in late 1943. He becomes one of the 100th's most reliable pilots.

Rosenthal's Crew:

[Shown left to right; top row than bottom row]

Sgt. Loren Darling - Waist Gunner

Sgt. Michael V. Boccuzzi - Radio Operator/Gunner

Sgt. John H. Shaffer - Waist Gunner

Sgt. Clarence C. Hall - Top turret gunner/engineer

Sgt. William J. DeBlasio - Tail Gunner

Sgt. Ray H. Robinson - Ball Turret Gunner

Lt. Ronald C. Bailey - Navigator

Lt. Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal - Pilot

Lt. Clifford J. Milburn - Bombardier

Lt. Winifred 'Pappy' Lewis - Copilot

Lt. Curtis Biddick

Lieutenant Curtis Biddick was known as a ‘hard luck’ pilot but was recognised as exceptionally expert and courageous. ‘Every time he went out something seemed to happen,’ said one of his buddies. On one raid he brought his plane back with 1,700 shell and bullet holes in it and two wounded men aboard.

He clashes due to his English colleagues embarking on night-time raids.

Richard Snyder

Biddick's co-pilot and was part of the 418th Bombardment Squadron.

Okay.... So I truly hope this helps going into Masters of the Air tomorrow. I can't wait to see all the bomber boys spread their wings and fly. This tv series is going to be an absolute wreck (in the best way possible). Thank you to everyone who enjoys my posts. Love y'all.

#hbo war #masters of the air #austin butler major gale buck cleven #austin butler masters of the air #callum turner #john egan #barry keoghan #@mads-weasley

[foxglove-press]

New year, new book! I had front row seats to @banyanas' Day One Dark since it still went by its working title of 'Chasing Daybreak.' This one has been a work in progress for a while: I actually finished the text formatting last year, and then spent a few months figuring out the best way to incorporate some of the extra touches like the full color illustrated spread -- and now that the author copy has safely made it home, I'm finally ready to gush about it!

This is definitely a longer work, capping out at 200 pages exactly, but based on experience it wasn't long enough to warrant another attempt at a rounded back, so I kept with the flat back format. Given the subject matter, I aimed for a volcanic motif with the case and endpapers: the black bookcloth and cover papers with the partly-cooled magma look combined really well with the brighter magmatic colors of the flyleaves.

Overall I'm so happy with how this turned out, especially given the long hiatus from crafting. I'm so happy with how this one turned out, and I'm delighted that the author now has a copy to hold in their hands! ❤

Text Block

Title: Just in the Firestorm ("Day One") and Bomber Escort Condensed ("Dark")

Chapter Headings: Square Metal-7 (Timeline), Bomber Escort Condensed (main titles), Cursed Timer ULiL (date headers)

Body Font: Things Digital (Timeline) and Garamond (main story)

Front Matter and Appendix: Garamond

Center Ornaments: Modified from generic text decorations

Sewing: Burgundy Irish Linen

Case

Cover Papers: French P Marbled Papers (#928)

End Papers: Thai Marble Momi (Firestorm)

Book Cloth: Jet Black Starched Linen Bookcloth

Headband: Solid Black Cotton

Bookmark: Handmade embroidery floss tassel with rose gold dragon head spacer and 8mm red howlite turquoise beads

#fanbinding #ficbinding #promare #super happy with how this one came out #i tried a few experiments with the illustration spread #i wanted a heavier and crisper white paper #compared to the off-white of the text pages #i actually really like the spacing effect it gives #because the moment is so intense #it took some doing to get it at the center of a signature #but it was absolutely worth it

[freetheshit-outofyou]

88, that's right 88, PPSH-41 submachine guns in the bomb bay of a Soviet Tu-2 bomber.

Known as the “Hedgehog”, it was to fly over formations of enemies and unleash all 88 PPSH-41s simultaneously. This system had a theoretical rate of fire of 79,000 rounds per minute