#Poor guide wannabe :(

[thirstworldproblemss]

Fic: Closer

cowritten with @astroboots

Fandom:  Moon Knight Pairing:  Jake Lockley x F reader (x Steven, x Marc) Length:  5.6k words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings:  This fic contains explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, anal play, and anal sex. (That's it. That's the fic.)

Summary: Jake checks an item off his bucket list, and you both thoroughly enjoy yourselves.

Notes: Many thanks to @guruan who fixed our my extremely questionable Spanish (any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault) and whose deliciously debauched art is a never-ending source of inspiration. More thanks (and uh... oh god, sorry 🙈) to the poor anon who submitted the prompt that spawned this to Cici last Kinktober and had to wait a whole year to see the damn thing. And, of course, ALL my love to my darling cowriter and 🤡💖🤡 sister, @astroboots, who always makes writing a joy, and without whom this never would have been started, finished, or posted at all.

[ twp’s Masterlist  | boots' Masterlist  ]

Jake hasn’t spent a lot of time in the driver’s seat over the years. For a long time he only fronted on rare occasions. Life or death situations mostly. Those hair-trigger moments when the body is in critical danger and a moment’s hesitation is all it’d take for all three of them to wind up dead. 

Those times when things are too much for Marc or Steven to be able to handle? That’s when it’s Jake’s turn at the wheel. 

It’s why normally the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, in command of the body, is the source of imminent danger: 

The face of the man who has a knife pressed against the collar of his military uniform in the middle of a desert. 

A panoramic view through the windshield of a truck that is seconds from veering off a winding cliff-side road. 

A long-haired Jim Jones wannabe staring down at him along a glowing walking stick protruding from his own chest. 

But things have been different lately. For one thing, he’s been spending a lot more time fronting, and not just in dangerous situations. 

For another, he’s learning that there’s so much more world out there than he’d ever imagined. There’s Ben & Jerry’s peanut popcorn flavored ice cream, Saturday karaoke nights, Derby Girls and you. 

Always you.

You were just Steven’s girl first, and then somehow against all odds Marc got involved too, and now that Jake’s been allowed a taste, he's never letting you go. You’re his guide to the wide world,  the road map keeping him on the right route, the safe resting place when he’s tired. Su alma, his soul.

And right now you look exhausted. Your thighs shaky and trembling, matted hair glued to your forehead, all of you dripping with sweat and other things. Steven must have really worn you out before he ceded the front. 

Sweet, shy little Steven—Mr. Sunshine—who just fucked you seemingly within an inch of your life before he remembered that he needs to share. 

And Marc thinks Jake is the unhinged one. 

The punch of adrenaline that always comes with fronting is still running through his veins, and he’s already hardening at the sight of you on your stomach, ass up in the air on display for him, Steven’s come just beginning to drip out of you. It doesn’t matter that the body just came, it’s Jake’s turn now. 

He slides his rapidly stiffening cock through your slippery folds, nudging the head against your clit, you and him both slick and sloppy with Steven's come and your own wetness.

“Aaah – Jake,” you gasp sharply into the pillow.

You know it’s him. He doesn’t know how. You haven’t even turned around to look at him, but somehow you just know. You always know. It’s an uncanny magic trick that impresses the hell out of him every time.

Jake grips one side of your ass in his free hand, squeezing hard. You’re all smooth skin and soft flesh under his finger, your cute little asshole peeking up at him. You’d kill him if he’d called it that out loud. So he doesn’t. He bites his tongue, swallowing down the groan that’s simmering in his throat at the sight of you.  

He can't resist sliding his thumb over that little pucker. He barely even brushes over you when you let out a pretty gasp for him. His cock is fully hard now, and it jerks against you at the sound, so he does it again, just to see if you’ll make the same noise twice. You do. 

Then you moan, sharp and keen, and he has to pull back, hand sliding over his slick length once before he leans in and replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. Taking his time, he slides it along the curve of your ass before nestling himself snugly between your cheeks. He makes an absolute mess as he goes, smearing the shiny slick left by Steven all over your bare skin until everything is a glistening sheen under the dim light as he begins to thrust forward, sliding his cock between the valley of your cheeks. 

Jake's dreamed of taking you here. He wants to take every fucking hole you have, fill you up and cover you with his come until it's dripping off of–out of every inch of your body.

Mierda. Even just the thought of it has heat climbing his spine, and his cock jerks in his fist and spitting even more precome into the mess already covering your spine and the rounded curves of your ass. 

He thrusts against you again, fucking himself between your cheeks, and you mewl quietly, pressing back against him. Maybe he won’t even fuck your pussy this time. Maybe he’ll just stay right here and rub his cock on your gorgeous ass until he comes all over it. Add to Steven’s mess with one of his own. He’ll do it. And reach around and rub your clit so you come too.

Maybe if he can get you used to the idea of his cock rubbing against your ass, maybe one day you’ll let him put it inside too. 

"You can, you know," you mumble out into the pillows, and Jake freezes, heat streaking down to his balls, and he has to grip himself hard at the base to avoid painting your ass with his come right then and there. 

Shit, did he say that out loud? He’s pretty sure he didn’t. He must have heard you wrong. Or he misunderstood. You can't possibly be offering what he thinks you are. 

"You can try putting it in. I might ask you to stop if I don't like it, but..." you your knees slightly, and the move has your ass practically wiggling at him in temptation, "It feels good right now."

Jake's brain stalls out. His body flashes hot all over. The back of his neck is tingling. He squeezes the base of his cock so hard he thinks he might be in danger of doing permanent damage, but he'll be damned if he comes on your ass right now when he’s just been told he might get to come in it. 

Gritting his teeth, Jake breathes through his body’s urge to come, pushing down the near-overwhelming need to shove his cock into your tight little asshole immediately. He knows he has to prep you if there's going to be any chance of you enjoying this, and he needs you to enjoy it because he wants to be able to do it again (and again and again and...) 

Shit. He needs to get on with it, or he's going to finish before he even makes it inside.

Jake makes himself let go of his aching cock, leaves it bobbing and dripping in midair, and turns his focus on you.

Leaning closer, he uses both hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, and just looks at you for a minute, watching your body clench around nothing.

"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" he demands, sticky thumb sliding down through the mess of your slick and Steven’s come to circle your puckered hole, almost but not quite touching it, "Gonna let me put my cock inside this tight little hole and fill it up with my come?"

You whine, your whole body shivering under him, and he grins, satisfaction buzzing in his veins when your hips cant further up, trying to get him to touch you.

It’s fucking adorable is what it is. He is starting to understand why Marc likes to edge you now. How could he not? You’re always so reactive and needy when you’re denied. You make it so fun to tease. 

Sliding his thumb down, he slicks it around and around, just to watch you whine and shiver and shift, hips chasing his touch. His dick jerks with every noise you make and every time your body visibly clenches.

As fun as this is, a bright delight humming in his chest at your every little reaction, Jake doesn’t have the patience to tease you for long. 

He’s not like Marc. El Jefe seems to have infinite patience when it comes to this, but it’s only a minute or two before Jake can’t wait any longer. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get inside you one way or another. So he stops, holding his hand still to let you “catch” him.

When you do, he sucks in harsh breath, heat punching through him as he watches you rub yourself against his thumb, heart rate spiking as you lean back, the tip of his thumb pushing inside just a little.

It's barely anything, but the feeling of you parting to let his his thumb slips inside, then squeezing him back out is addictive. He presses harder, wanting more. His thumb slides a bare inch inside, and his groan barely covers the strangled sound you make, body tensing under him. 

Sweat breaks out on his forehead along with the realization that he cannot fuck this up. 

"Alright, mi alma?" he asks, trying to sound sweet and gentle, but his voice, low and eager, betrays him. A starving wolf in a sloppy sheep disguise. He’s not fooling anyone, not himself and certainly not you. 

Reigning himself in as best as he can, his fingers close into a fist with tight tension blaring in every nerve. Then he unfurls his palm to pet his hand over your back and down your side to give your ass a gentle squeeze. 

“Do you  need me to stop?" 

"N-no," comes the shaky answer, and Jake thanks any gods who might be listening, "It feels a bit odd, but..." you squeeze around his thumb, hot and unbelievably tight, and Jake swears under his breath, "It’s a good odd, I think. Just– just give me a moment."

You shift slightly, clenching again, and his cock jerks and throbs like the nerves of his thumb have somehow been reattached directly to his aching length. He really fucking doesn’t want to come before he even gets inside you, but right now he’s not sure if that’s in the cards for him.

Then you push back against him, and his thumb slides in another half inch, and both of you gasp. He pulls out slightly and risks a small thrust back inside. He's rewarded by another gasp and a small moan, so he does it again, a little further this time, and this time the moan is louder.

Fuck, you look so good like this, ass all slick and slippery. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jake leans forward, spitting onto the curve of your ass right above where his thumb is inside you. 

You jerk when it lands on your skin, and he likes that. Likes that even though he’s done it before it always seems to take you by surprise. Likes how his spit  looks on your skin too, shiny and slick as it slides down the crack of your ass to join the rest of the mess he’s smeared there. Likes that when he pushes it into your tight little asshole, it’s one more way that he can be inside you, make you a little bit more his in a way that will linger after he’s no longer with you.

You whine as he pulls his thumb all the way out, he spits again, hitting his target, directly on your pretty little asshole, then he presses in again, shoving more of his spit into you.

Like most things when it comes to how he feels about you, Jake doesn’t entirely understand why he likes this so much. It’s primal, somehow, a deep-seated need to mark you with himself–his spit, his scent, his come.

His cock is aching, throbbing in time with the way you clench every time he pushes his thumb into you. Jake can't stand it, has to wrap his free hand around himself, gripping as hard as he dares, and stroking slowly. He grits his teeth against how good it feels, red hot pleasure searing up his spine as he leans in to slide the head of his overwrought, leaking cock along your ass, right next to where his thumb is shoved inside. 

"You feel how hard you make me?" he demands, pressing himself against you, relishing the way you shift and moan again, body still squeezing around his thumb, but loosening with every passing moment as you relax. It also has the added benefit of his precome dripping down to lubricate things even more as he thrusts into you a little deeper each time. "Fuck, I can't wait to get inside this tight little hole. You gonna let me in, mi alma?"

"Yes, yes, Jake! Please!" you cry out, only partially muffled where your face is pressed into the pillows, and he damn near loses it again. Has to press his cock against you hard, almost to the point of pain as fire licks out along his nerves, threatening to send him over the edge.

"You want this cock in your ass right now?" he grits out, vaguely aware that he should probably spend more time prepping you, stretching you so you can take him easier, but he can't wait another fucking second.

He pulls back, pulls his thumb out, and you whine out his name Jake, Jake, Jake as you push your ass up and back, chasing his touch.

He looks down to see a blur of movement between your legs, and realizes that at some point you shoved a hand underneath yourself to rub at your clit.

It’s pure impulse. He doesn’t think. Before he even realizes what he's about to do, Jake’s hand flashes out, coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends your flesh jiggling in an all-too-appealing way. 

You cry out, sharp and high-pitched, but Jake knows from experience that it's a cry of shock, not of pain, and he quickly follows up on his advantage.

"Naughty naughty, sweetheart,” he scolds, “Who said you could touch yourself?" 

You freeze, obviously caught, and several seconds tick by where he watches approvingly as the mark left on your supple skin from the impact of his hand shades into a darker hue before you whine again, "Please, Jake. I need– I need–"

That's more like it. 

"Pobrecita," he croons to you, enjoying the way you relax at his gentle tone, "Do you need more?"

You nod into the pillow.

He leans in and smacks his cock against the same place his hand struck. You jolt, letting out the hottest fucking sound, so he does it again, and has to grit his teeth against the noise that wants to escape him at the sensation.

"You want this cock, mi alma?" he demands, voice harsh,  "You want me fuck your ass with it right now?"

"Yes. Yes, Jake. Fuck, please. YES!" you pant out, sounding as desperate as he feels. You’re pressing back against him, hips shifting so you can press that pretty little hole right against the tip of him, acting for all the world like you're going to fuck yourself back onto his cock if he doesn't give it to you fast enough.

It's a heady feeling, to hear you beg for him, and part of him wants to hear you do it again, and again and again. To leave you there, begging for him as you struggle to fuck yourself on him. Lucky for you, he is nothing like Marc. 

"All you had to do was ask, mi alma," he grates out as he begins a slow press forward, "All you ever have to do is ask, and I'll give you the world."

Your body yields to him, the head of his cock slipping inside, and he has no more words. Only a strangled groan to match your whine as you clamp down hot and impossibly tight around him.

A sparkling clarity descends, time dilating, stretching out the way it does when he's in the middle of a fight, and he can only be grateful because he's barely clinging to his composure by the tips of his fingers here.

One truth stands out above everything else: he can't hurt you. 

He has to go slow, keep control, make it good for you. 

Jake wraps an arm around you, fingers tangling with yours to rub desperate circles around your clit, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you relax slightly under and around him. Still he doesn't move, not sure if he can without losing it and pumping you full of his come right then and there.

It's only when your hips start to move, hitching forward against his fingers, and then back to fuck yourself a little farther onto his aching cock that he dares draw in another breath, dares to meet your movements with small thrusts of his own, fucking in a little further each time.

And you take him just like that, little by little. One slow press, one torturous inch at a time, until he's buried as deep in you as he can go. 

"Fuck. Jake," you gasp out, clenching hard around him, and he groans. 

He makes the mistake of looking down at where you’re stretched tight around the base of his cock, taking every fucking inch he has to give, and the sight hits him like a punch to the gut. His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and somehow you take him even deeper.

You make a strangled sound, clamping down so tight it borders on the painful, and he freezes, shuddering behind you.

"¡Mierda! ¿Estás bien?" he demands, has to stop and mentally scramble for the words before he can ask again in English, "You okay, mi alma? Shit, did I hurt you?" 

"N-no. I'm okay," you pants out in response, "You can– You can move, Jake. Please. Need you to mo–"

Before you even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out and easing back in. It’s a tight fit, your body hugging him so snugly that nothing else would fit. 

Lento, he reminds himself, gently. Not too fast. Gritting his teeth against the demands of his body, he presses himself in and out of you as slowly and carefully as he can manage, and he tries to keep his fingers moving on your clit. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in until he’s sure it must be painful, but he can't make himself let go.

You whine, writhing under him as he inches back into you.

"Jake," you pant out, nearly sobbing his name, "Jake, Jake," and he slows further, worried that it's too much.

"No!" you cry out suddenly, and Jake freezes on instinct, holding still as you prop yourself up on one elbow, turning your upper body sharply to one side so you can glare at him over your shoulder, "Don't bloody stop. I want you to fuck me."

The words hit him like a blow, knocking the air out of him, and the determined look on your face stabs him right in the heart, his whole chest pulling tight. 

"You've been so patient, Jake,” you cajole him, “and it's good. Better than I thought it would be. I want you to stop holding back. Fuck my ass for real. Let go, Jake."

Fuck, he loves you so fucking much. The feeling is so big, he doesn't know how his body can contain it. He wants to move mountains, conquer the fucking world just so he can lay it at your feet. He'd give you anything. 

But the only thing you're asking for right now is his cock, and that he’s just as desperate to give you as you are to take it.

He pulls out slowly, one… last… controlled… withdrawal, then he slams into you so hard it drives you forward across the bed away from him. Digging both hands into your hips, he yanks you back to him, back onto his cock.

"Like this?" he asks as he pulls out and slams into you again,  "You want it hard? Like this, mi alma?"

"Yes– Fuck– Yes–" you gasp out between harsh thrusts, "Ja-Jake!"

His name breaking on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard in his entire life, and it severs the last threads of Jake's control. He lurches forward with a roar, driving himself into your tight little ass over and over again, as hard and fast as he can go. 

The force of it knocks you off your elbows, flattening you into the bed, but Jake just yanks you back, repositioning his knees as your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.

Every thrust is deep and relentless, burying himself inside you as deep as your body will let him, giving you as much of him as you can take. Until his hip bones are pressed flush against your ass, until his cock is buried inside you to the root, until every inch of him is enveloped by you. 

He's so lost in the feel of you, he doesn't realize he’s fucked you all the way across the bed until you're precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.

Your knee goes first, slipping sideways off the bed mid-thrust, and it's enough to pull him off balance and send you both tumbling to the floor. 

Instinct takes over, and before Jake even has a chance to consciously register what’s happening, he’s already twisting, shielding your body so that he takes the brunt of the fall. He winds up hitting the hardwood ass-first before coming to rest with his head against the nightstand and you in his lap. 

Miraculously, you’re still connected, the force of the fall shoving you down on his cock farther than ever before, the feeling of being lodged so far inside your tight ass more than enough to overwhelm the slight pain in his tailbone from the fall.

There's a moment of stunned silence, then you start shaking, trembling in his arms, shoulders vibrating against him. He has half a second to worry that he’s fucked up badly enough to make you cry before a loud, bright sound rings out in the room. 

You’re laughing. Oh thank fuck.

"Oh my god, Jake! You just fucked me off the bed, quite literally. That's definitely a first!" you exclaim, twisting around to giggle down at him, eyes crinkled with amusement, mouth curved in an open, full-toothed smile. Jake has a handful of seconds to marvel at how beautiful you are before you shift in his lap, your body clamping down around him, and any last lingering shreds of control he might have been clinging to are gone.

Jake lifts his hips, fucking up into you, and watches your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips.

It's not enough.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rolls to his knees, and your gorgeous laughter dissolves into a broken cry of surprise as he drags you with him. The sound melts into a long drawn out moan that has the tip of his ears tingling. He can’t think, all he can do is keep going as he fucks forward into you again, his chest tight against your back as he forces you down onto all fours so he can keep fucking you. 

Fuck. The wood floor is hard and uncomfortable under his knees, digging into his kneecaps. He knows it must be worse for you with his weight bearing down on you, but he can't make himself stop. 

He's been dreaming about taking you this way for so long, and now he finally gets to. He knows, he knows he should stop and check on you, should move the two of you back up onto the bed where you'll be more comfortable, but that pretty little ass is stretched around him so perfectly, tight and hot around him, and his need is riding him hard.

Heat prickles from the tip of his fingers, spreading along the nerve endings along every patch of skin, fuck. It’s everywhere, expanding across the span of his chest, pooling in his abdomen, gripping into his lungs. He can’t breathe. Can’t stop. Can’t–

"Lo siento," he stutters out. "I'm sorry, mi alma. I can't– I have to–" Words leave him, and all he can do is pant against your neck as his hips jerk into you with increasingly sloppy thrusts. 

His end is approaching fast, whether he wants it to or not, and he barely has the presence of mind to shove a hand underneath you, rubbing desperate circles over your clit with fingers gone clumsy with need.

He has to make it good for you. He has to. He has to– 

Por fortuna, it only takes a minute for you to tense underneath him, sobbing out his name and tightening around him so forcefully that he can't keep thrusting, his cock locked in place by the tight clench of your body.

The lack of movement is enough to stave off his own orgasm, but just barely, the pleasure is overwhelming, teasing at the tip of his tongue as you shudder underneath him and you flutter rhythmically around his cock. It's so similar to being inside your pussy when you come, but it's different too. The pulse of your pleasure there squeezing him so tight it's nearly painful, but its so, so fucking good.

He breathes through it, pressing open-mouthed, panting kisses against the skin of your back. Does his best to keep his fingers moving on your clit, trying to prolong the moment for you, to draw you pleasure out as long as he can. He wishes he could see your face. 

Next time, he promises himself. Face-to-face next time, so he can watch every expression you make as he fucks you full of himself and see the pleasure break across your face when you come with his cock lodged deep inside.

All too soon, you're collapsing forward onto one elbow, your other hand shoving at his where it's buried between your legs, and he lets you push his hand away, planting his palm on the ground next to your head. 

You turn weakly to look up at him, pulling partially off of his dick as your body sags like you can’t keep yourself up. 

"Are you ready, mi alma?" he grits out, dimly aware that he's shaking as he braces himself above you, "Ready for me to fuck this tight little ass full of my come?"

"Mmm," you hum, sweet and contented under him, "yes, please."

That's all Jake needs to hear.

He slams his hips forward into yours, and the force of the first thrust knocks you forward off your elbow, your chest meeting the ground as you half-collapse under him. 

Jake follows you down without stopping, fucking into you hard. You sink a little further towards the floor with each thrust until you're flat on your stomach, but Jake still doesn't stop. He can’t, though he's sure he must be flattening you. Doesn't think he could stop if his life depended on it

He's grinding into you now with increasingly sloppy thrusts, burning heat burrowing into the base of his spine as he holds back his orgasm by sheer will, slurring out endearments against the back of your shoulder.

“Mi alma. Mi vida. Reina de mi corazón.”

And you are. His soul. His life. The queen of his heart. You are all of that and more. His gorgeous, perfect love, taking him, all of him, exactly as he is.

"Do it," you say from underneath him, and reality seems to recede, his vision tunneling in on your lips as they shape the words that just might kill him.

"Fill my ass up with your come. Fuck it into me as deep as you can. I'm yours, Jake."

Jake's orgasm crashes into him like an unexpected switch. Like a bomb going off. Like a knife sliding between his ribs, sharp and sudden. Pleasure sears though every inch of the body that has never felt more like his than it does at this moment, his forehead pressing against the warm skin of your back as he empties himself inside you in pulse after pulse of aching release. 

By the time the last shuddering spasm subsides, Jake feels wrung out like a bloody rag. He barely manages to avoid collapsing on top of you, mustering just enough strength to roll the two of you to the side so that he’s no longer squishing you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he carefully pulls out, then pulls you back against his chest, curving his body around yours, and the two of you lay cuddled together like that for a long moment.

Eventually, his strength returns, along with the awareness that the floor he’s holding you on is both hard and probably not all that clean given Steven’s penchant for pouring sand all over. You deserve better. He gets up first, and carefully helps you rise to standing, waiting a moment to be sure you’re steady on your feet, before guiding you gently into the bathroom. 

When he flips on the bathroom light, the shadow of his reflection in the small round mirror transforms into a flushed, wide-eyed Steven who mumbles, “That was… God, that was… ” 

He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Jake’s not sure he could either, but Mr Sunshine doesn’t need to know that, so he just shoots the mirror a smug smile and tips an imaginary cap in that direction before he moves to turn on the shower.

You shiver a little when he steps away from you, so once the water is running, he wraps both arms around you, encouraging you to lean against him while you wait for it to get warm. You do, wrapping one arm around his waist in return and curling into his chest like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Jake just watches you. Tilting his head back and slightly to the side to get a better angle, he lets his eyes roam over your face, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the eyelashes feathered against the soft skin there nod that your eyes have fluttered closed, the hand you’ve settled against his chest, right over his heart, the way your lips curve up into a slight content smile. 

You’re beautiful.

You always are, but right now, something about this moment makes Jake’s chest tight. It steals his breath as surely as if there were hands wrapped tight around his neck, choking the life out of him.  But instead of stealing his life, it’s as if you’re giving him more of it, pumping him full of its essence, filling his chest until he doesn’t know how his body can contain the feelings you inspire in him. 

The bathroom is getting warmer, steam starting to form on the mirror, but Jake is loath to relinquish his hold on you. You seem equally uninterested in leaving him. You’re snuggled contentedly into his chest, but the way you slump lower and looser with each passing second tells him that he needs to get you moving fast, before you fall asleep standing up. “Water’s warm,” he tells you, and you hum sleepily against his chest. It’s so, so tempting just to carry you back to bed, but he knows you’ll be happier if you’re clean.

“C’mon, mi alma. Into the shower. Vamos.”  He herds you gently backwards until you’re standing under the spray.

You hum sleepily up at him without opening your eyes, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s lost you to sleep already, but you stay standing when he cautiously releases you.

Reaching for your soap, he quickly lathers up a washcloth. The smell of the soap—the smell of you—quickly permeates the small space, and he breathes deep, letting the familiar scent wash over him.  He runs the cloth gently over your shoulders,  taking extra care with the still-visible bite mark one of them left there, then down over your chest. The skin of your breasts is soft and warm under his fingertips, and he’s half tempted to try for another round, but he feels strangely protective of your soft sleepiness.

Instead he dutifully rinses you off, letting the water cascade over your body. 

You blink your eyes open long enough to shoot him another warm, sleepy smile, and the contentment in his chest seems to expand, taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower. 

He steps out, reaching for a towel, and drys you off gently, before doing the same to himself with much less care.

Then he carries you back to bed and tucks you in, doing his best to straighten out the wrinkly covers before pulling them up over both of you. Curling his body around yours, he holds you tightly to him. There are a lot of things in this world Jake can do without, has done without. But this– you are no longer on that list.

In the cozy warmth of the bed with your body pressed against his, his eyes feel heavy. Jake never used to fight to stay in the driver’s seat, not once the excitement was over. But he clings to consciousness now. He wants to prolong this moment when his vision is filled, not with yet another threat to body, life or limb, but with something altogether perfect: the sight of you drifting off to sleep, your head nuzzling into the pillow, a slight smile on your face… safe. 

It��s the last thing he sees as he falls into a deep, restful sleep. .

Thanks for reading!

—

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[theresattrpgforthat]

Do you have any recommendations for games with fantasy pirates and tactical combat? I've really been enjoying running Pirate Borg, but I'm missing my crunchy strategy mini games. Thanks for everything you do for the community!

Theme: Tactical Pirate Fantasy

Hello friend, so by ‘tactical’ my best guess as to what you’re looking for is games that provide your characters with multiple options when it comes to resolving conflicts, with some options being better than others. This may or may not include maps in combat, but I think it might also include environmental considerations, buffs or de-buffs for using specific pieces of gear, and accounting for range or position when firing a gun.

However, really tactical games are much harder for me to find, probably because there’s so much math that goes into them. I did my best to give you a range of options, but I’m not entirely sure how well any one of these pirate games match your definition of ‘tactical’.

Bilge Rats, by Games by Cass.

Take to The Sea of Mischief and gamble your life away on high seas adventures as ratfolk pirates. Chase buried treasure, hunt wannabe pirate lords, and engage in some all together unsavoury action in Bilge Rats: A Sea of Mischief. This 78 page guide has everything you need to get your adventures on The Sea of Mischief up and running--except for the d6 dice, cups, and pencils you're gonna need. So, dust off your tricorn caps, get your cutlass shined, and get ready to set sail!

Bilge Rats’ form of strategy is probably unlike what you think of when you think of a tactical game, but I think it’s interesting and worth taking a look at! The basic system is centred around a game called “Liar’s Dice”, which involves rolling, bluffing if you don’t succeed, and calling other’s bluffs. You roll a pool of d6’s, with the difficulty being determined by a) the minimum number to beat to be considered a success and b) the number of successes you need to do the thing. As a player you’ll have to decide when a roll is worth bluffing, and if you enter PVP, it’s also about determining when your opponent is bluffing - challenge someone when they’re right, and you’ll pay the cost!

That being said, I think the most tactical part of this game comes into play during naval battles. Your character type is called a “Duty”, which determines your role upon the ship, your order of initiative, and a number of skill values. You’ll also have to consider wind speed, wind direction, and the roughness of the waves every time you engage in combat on a boat, so making strategic choices to improve your odds is probably pretty important.

The Runed Age, by Stormforge Productions.

In a world where magic and technology have fused together, where the limits that man is capable of have been broken, where a man can destroy the world with a stroke of a pen, the poor starve and the rich prosper off the blood of innocence. A world that should be a utopia has been turned by greed and pride into a battlefield where the poor wage war in the shadows for the ambitions of the wealthy. You are one of these scoundrels, these rogues, these pirates who struggle for the sport of the rich to achieve the glory, the riches, the power to break your chains and surpass the limits of The Runed Age.

The Runed Age is built on the Sigil System, a robust d100 roll-under system that allows you to play as narratively or simulationist as you want. The d100 genre of systems is a tried a true roleplaying method, and what sets the Sigil System (and thus the Ruined Age) apart from the rest is its combat and wounds system, which reflects the stresses and rigours of combat on the body to make combat as realistic as possible. This means that every fight in the Runed Age is a gritty, epic and lethal struggle for survival where you need to be prepared to do your best just to outlive your opponent.

The Runed Age is saturated with magic, using Runes as a mechanic to write your own spells. The openness of the system means that players have a lot of control over what they do with their magic, but the game definitely rewards system mastery because every time you try to write a spell, you’ll have to consider fiddly bits like power, range, and control.

When it comes to rolling dice, the system is heavily inspired by Call of Cthulhu. One review I found for this game mentions a possibility for tactical play, so I’m assuming that combat is more survival than CoC. If you want magic to be a significant part of the game, you probably want to check out The Runed Age.

Blood & Thunder, by Black Flag Printing Press.

You are a cutthroat aboard a pirate ship, seeking the fortune and glory that awaits those strong enough to take it. Brave the waterways of Erda and get rich or die trying in this nautical piracy TTRPG.

Lethal combat meets reactive gameplay at the infantry scale. Board, capture, or sink enemy vessels with naval play. Boasting rules for three dimensional range-finding and movement, even a regular swim in the ocean can become a deadly hazard as you're ripped apart by sharks, sea monsters, or something far worse.

Blood & Thunder is definitely fantastical, just judging from the races that you can choose from. Like D&D, your character choices are pre-packaged with stat bonuses and special abilities, but unlike D&D, you us a d100 for most of your rolls. Difficulty levels range from 0-100, with a limit on what you can even attempt to do depending on how high your skill rating is. If you can roll, you’ll aim to roll under your max skill rating.

Character levelling is also strategic; you need to meet certain requirements to take specific careers. Combat is also pretty dependent on a grid map, which I interpret to mean that range and positioning are two factors that you’ll have to consider, as well as an action economy that ensures that you’ll have to make your moves count.

Pirates and Musketeers, by Andrezj Buhlak.

The 17th century was rich in interesting events, political intrigues, bloody wars, and sea voyages. This book is a gateway to this fascinating period of history. If "dry history" is not enough for you, you can spice it up with fantastic assumptions, including vampires, werewolves, sea monsters and ancient ruins.

Pirates and Musketeers uses the Year Zero engine, which provides you with a number of d6s to roll that come from your base traits, character skills, and character gear. You have the ability to “push” your roll should your initial effort fail, which you will likely do often, as only 6’s are considered a success. However, should you “push” (or “re-roll”) your roll, any 1’s that you roll will also inflict penalties, doing damage to a stat or your gear. This means that in many stages of game-play, players will be balancing how much they value success against how many consequences they’re willing to face.

Language-wise, I’m not really a big fan of the way the game uses the term “savages.” The time period in this game is at the strength of many colonial empires, and some of that definitely bleeds through, so pick up this game with caution.

Caraval Crew, by iotsov.

A low fantasy TTRPG that focuses on sailing ships.

Right now, as far as I can tell, Caravel Crew is untested, but it has a lot of pieces for you to pick up and fiddle with. Combat has a lot of different kinds of options for your characters to exploit, with different outcomes if you bash, stab, shoot, parry, grapple, etc. There’s different weapons that are useful for different skills, and getting new weapons costs gold - an important resource to track. You’ll have a number of resources that you’ll need to keep track of and monitor, including hit points and something called EP.

On top of that, there’s also social and survival rules, so if you want a game that gives you engaging combat while still giving thought to other parts of the game, maybe pick up Caraval Crew and take it for a test drive!

24XX Skeleton Crew, by Jonah Boyd.

Dead men DO tell tales… on the other side. Skeleton Crew takes place in the sailor’s purgatory, Davy Jones’ Locker. When one dies at sea, their soul is brought to the Locker for a vast voyage to judge their fate. Some sailors only spend a few days in the Locker, but many form swashbuckling crews to preserve their non-lives for weeks, months, or years before judgement calls.

24XX games are another approach to the OSR (the same house of game design that fuels Pirate Borg), but use different-sized dice to represent a larger skill. I think there’s still more chance than strategy here, but again, this is a game that you could probably pull things from and then put into another system if you’re looking flavour.

The few fiddly bits that do exist in this game are things like different kinds of ships and different toys to put onto the ship - two things that you might be able to tack onto a game that doesn’t currently think about them, and thus opening up more pieces to consider should you get into a fight. Your ship could also come with flaws - what happens if you get in a fire-fight with a ship that has misfiring cannons? How might that complicate the battlefield?

You can also combine this game with another similar 24XX game, such as 14XX Golden Age to broaden your character origins or give yourself a few extra rules toys to play with.

Islands of the Far Sea, by Kindred Spirits, and Lilliputian, by ManaDawn Tabletop Games.

Islands of the Far Sea is a pirate-themed hack of Chris McDowell's Into the Odd, taking place in the Islands of the Oddworld. Play as one of seven Failed Careers in your new days as a Treasure-Hunter!

Lilliputian: Adventure on the Open Seas is an adventure game about exploring the vast and expansive ocean,  filled with uncharted islands, hidden treasure, weird weather and unspeakable horrors. Character creation is fast, fun and random, classless, and relies on fictional advancement. It is based on Mausritter by Isaac Williams, Into The Odd by Chris McDowall and Cairn by Yochai Gal, as-well-as so many more.

Into the Odd and Mausritter use the same bones, and both of these game books acknowledge that inspiration, although Lilliputian also draws quite a bit from Cairn. I don’t consider either of these games to be tactical games - but what they do have is possibilities that can be imported into other games. The Failed Careers from Islands of the Far Sea are packaged skills and gear that you can give a character to start with. They will then have to figure out how to make their kit work for the problems they walk into.

Lilliputian also has specific rules for naval combat, as well as lots and lots of random tables. I think more than anything it communicates a specific vibe, but taking a little bit from one game and a little bit from another is one way to customize your experience - as well as give your players more options when trying to figure out how to tackle their next salty obstacle.

[insomniakisses]

Not So Soft

requested? no

idol: chaeyoung (Blackpink)

reader type: fem, omega

warnings/notes:  smut, semi public sex, slight possessive nature, omegaverse, knotting, mate marking, bathroom sex, rosie has a dick, fem reader, alpha Rosè

Rosie was probably one of the softest alphas going, hating the idea of becoming a totally possessive and rude Knotthead like many alphas were. She was always kind and considerate to your needs, her personality sometimes making people mistake her for an omega. Which often lead to people assuming you were single.

Now, Rosè is pretty level headed and can usually deal with that happening quite pleasantly and in a calm matter. But the two of you hadn’t seen each other in weeks and not being mate-marked the only real sign that you were taken would be her scent. Due to the not seeing each other not one part of you smelt like her.

Unfortunately for an aloha with poor judgement you were an easy target, pressing up against you in the line as you waited to order your food for the date. Well, to say your girlfriend was pissed would be an understatement. You barely had chance to puss him off before she shoved her way between the two of you. Glare hard and a deep growl slipping past her lips, “Mine.”

Scoffing he took a step closer to you, smirking as he released some alpha pheromones “Don’t see your mark on her, I can show her a real alpha”

Lunging forward she was seconds away from punching him square in the face had you not whined. Snapping her head in your direction her gaze going incredibly soft at the sight on your trembling form, before realising why you were feeling so weak. Anger rising at the ever growing scent of this wannabe alpha infront of you. Grabbing your wrist she drags you to the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

-

Leaning you against the sinks she wraps her arms around you, nuzzling deeply into your neck laying soft kisses to the sensitive area. It isn’t long before they become more heated as she sucks and bites at your skin, your body reacting with an embarrassingly loud moan that has her smirking cockily.

“Needy, babygirl?” Her hot breath fans across your neck as she lowers her mouth, hands making quick work of unbuttoning your shirt, kissing along your stomach muttering about how much she loves you and wants to claim you.

Unclasping your bra she latches her mouth onto your sensitive bud, your body arching into her touch. Shuddering and mewling at the coldness of her hand when she pinches the other. Knee slotting between your legs.

“R-rosie mhh!” You moan when she pulls you down harshly guiding your hips along her thigh, cock bulging in her sweats.

“You want it? Want my cock like a good girl? Hmm fuck”

Wet patch forming as precum beads at the tip she pulls away, releasing her cock. Sweats pooling at her ankles.

“Bend over baby” she all but groans out, jerking her shaft as she speaks readying herself for you.

Bending over the sink you cant help bite your lip in anticipation, whining needily when she pushes your skirt up. Uncaring that the whole restaurant could probably hear you. Pulling your pants to the side to rub the tip agains your folds, teasing you with a harsh slap to your ass.

Yelping in surprise you push back greedily silently pleading for her to push in, which she does thrusting harshly till shes flush against you. Hands gripping your hips she takes off. Her pace fast and rough, her possessive side showing when she reaches around you to grab your throat.

Pulling your upper body agains hers as she lightly chokes you, sucking harshly at your jaw making sure to leave plenty of marks her pace never slowing.

Your mouth falls open unable to stop the moans falling from your lips, the sound of flesh meeting flesh and her thrusting into your dripping heat filling the room. Your first orgasm wracking three your body, yet her thrusting never stops.

“Who. Do. You. Belong. To.” Thrusting harshly between each word the removes her hand from your throat to rub your clit, lips latching onto your neck and shoulders. Continuing to mark every but if skin available. Her knot beginning to push into you with each thrust.

“Y-you r-os-ie!” Your voice shaky and uneven getting loader as she pushes her knot in with a deep grunt. “Mine.”

The force of her thrust and the feeling of cum spilling into you in hot spirts causing you to fall over the edge body shaking in her arms as she bites down in your neck, mating you to her.

[hiemaldesirae]

[sees radiostatic vampire! AU] arrax, my darling, my dearest...marry me lol

ANYHOW i would kill for poor vox finding himself trapped in a Renfield-esque situation with a powerful vampire because he’s just Too Fucking Pretty — lmfao, he Would. getting sick imagining demon! Al seeing what happened to his bestie/future wife and going ballistic, spending literal centuries trying to find a way to free vox’s soul from his sire with (I can imagine) the very limited contact he can make as a demon in the human world, committing All of the atrocities and playing his cards right with the upper echelon in the hopes that he can somehow gain a corporeal form again; meanwhile, poor vox is wallowing so deeply in his religious guilt and missing his friend and What Has My Life Become that he writes off all of Al’s attempts to communicate with him from the afterlife as hallucinations/fever dreams from one too many nights at the bar. He *is* confused as to why he’s imagining his dead best friend with deer antlers and an ATROCIOUS haircut, like What was in that scotch, but those moments are the few and far between in his monotonous and miserably prolonged existence that he milks it for all he can (aka Alastor definitely stuck around into the late hours of the evening possessing any radio/mirror/hapless human bartender in vox’s vicinity so that he could listen to his love rant about his boss while shit-faced, whispering softly as to guide Vox to good potential targets)

Thing is, though: I can see Wannabe Dracula noticing Al’s presence — maybe because something something freaky demon magic stuff, maybe because he notices that hopeful sparkle and pure adoration in those lovely eyes once more — and oh, he is pissed; you see, he’s been dangling the promise of somehow allowing his familiar the chance to see his beloved once more as long as he swears his eternal servitude and devotion to him for decades now (he’s lying through his teeth and vox knows it deep down, but can’t bring himself to admit it) and that smiling fuckface is trying to intrude on HIS plans, take away HIS precious pet? so, he starts to tighten his control on Vox: running him ragged to lure and fetch him his meals, never letting him get proper rest and nutrients, and only worsening the issues by draining him of his blood until he’s tethering on the brink of death — it’s gotten so bad to the point where the very few (secret) human friends Vox has managed to make in his increasingly rare moments of freedom assume he’s an anaemic trapped in an abusive relationship and try their damnedest to get him help. The thing is: Vox can’t even bring himself to fully hate his sire or his possessive actions because if he closes his eyes and let’s his mind wander, he can pretend those cold lips against his neck as Alastor’s, that all of this is *worth it* for Alastor, and by God, does he hate himself for it...

So when that one fateful night happens, when he feels those warm arms again around his waist, protecting him from the midnight chill, and that wonderful, mellifluous voice crooning in his ear, Vox can’t help himself. Once the shock settles, he weeps and throws weak punches at the smiling face he’s been dreaming about seeing again for so, so long. Alastor sees his beloved, weak, disheveled and pale, those lovely eyes bruised and hideous bitemarks blemishing fair skin that vox has been feebly trying to hide with turtlenecks, and he sees red. Oh, how he wishes so badly to tear that wretched vampire limb from limb with his bare hands and present Vox the still-beating heart to consume on a silver platter — but he’s forced to push those lovely thoughts to the back of his mind, for another day, as, with Vox’s “schedule” and Alastor only having limited use of his physical form for now, the two of them are living on borrowed time. So he settles for pulling Vox in close once his love has had his fill of sobbing/cursing him out, gently brushing his dark curls from his eyes as he kisses the tears away, relishing in the bitter taste.

Vox lets himself be guided away to safety in the shadows of a dark alleyway — ironically, much in the same way he would lure his own prey — as Alastor trails hungry, possessive kisses down his throat, roughly pinning his wrists against the wall and tracing the letters of his name along any blue vein he comes across, slicing his own wrist to feed the poor thing before *properly* for the first time in months. His master’s furious demands reduced to nothing more than an annoying insect’s buzz in his ears, Vox throws his head back and allows himself to truly enjoy the moment as Alastor growls into the crook of his neck, sharp teeth grazing sweet skin but not biting, not *yet*.

“He wants you, the pathetic fool, he *craves* you, but he’ll NEVER have you — not when *I* saw you first, my dear...”

hey mk wanna know a fun fact. about an hour or so after you sent this in yesterday i got a followup ask from arrax about the vampire radiostatic au. geniuses truly do think alike huh love that for you guys! let me officiate the (un)holy union :thumbsup:

ANYWAY..... your mind is truly so very powerful. the idea of al trying to reach vox in any way he can, travelling through radio frequencies or hacking into on-earth radio broadcasts / possessing people around vox to talk to him so that he can reassure him and make sure hes doing alright ...... URHGH they make me SICK . al fucking HATES seeing vox broken down and chained to a master who treats him in such a way and if he had more power he'd no doubt kill vox's vampire sire, but as it is the amount of power lucifer granted to him simply wasnt enough to even assume a fully corporeal form, much less take on an ancient vampiric lord

and the scene in the alleyway URGHDHD... i absolutely cannot with them they are SO disgustingly in love. in this scenario i feel like alastor would probably end up striking a deal with charlie to help her with her hotel, so long as she helps convince her father to help out vox. does it work? probably, actually. when he finally amasses enough power to tear the old bastard apart, though, the first thing he does is give part of that demonic energy to vox and guide him to kill his sire himself

[cambria-writes]

hello! happy new year darlings!

im late for rent (though i did send it a good while ago), one and half family members short and shit's fucked lmao. it's been a rough start of the year, but i hope everyone is doing well, staying hydrated and going to bed at reasonable hours!

bit delayed; i had intended on posting this over a week ago, but i'm a chronically ill bitch so shit kinda happened woops

pairing: patrick jane x reader word count: 2,801 rating: M warning: swearing, named afab reader, no y/n, no physical descriptions, reader is still a bit drunk, description of a panic attack, fuck it we're using british/canadian english now, unspecified age gap but it's there, there's kissing in this one!!

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔯

You wake up without realising you’d fallen asleep. Not entirely convinced you drank enough for it, you chalk it up to exhaustion. Blink a few times to clear your vision. Jane is still driving. By the speed, you must be in a residential area. You’re definitely not on a highway, anyways. Try once to ask where you are, but the words come out mangled and completely unintelligible.

“Glad to see you’re back with us.” The comment somehow irritates you. Grunt a few more times before your tongue can form words.

“Mmnnh, sure. Where—where are we?”

Jane frowns like he’s caught off guard by the question. Really? You just asked where you are. Was he just aimlessly driving? Did he forget you were in the car with him? You almost hope so. That probably means you didn’t snore. That would have been… embarrassing. You blink, and the confused expression is gone. Did you imagine it? Are you still halfway asleep? Maybe. You sink deeper into the car seat.

“I’m taking you home with me,” is the answer Jane settles on.

“Clearly not my home. I couldn’t afford a single room in one of these places,” you mutter, resting your head against the window and watching the streetlights go by. Try not to focus on the strange sensation in your stomach at the thought of actually stepping foot in The Patrick Jane’s home. You’re absolutely not thinking about it. Not at all.

When the car slows you can’t even tell the time on the dash. Not sure what woke up; the slowing car or the tension. Jane helps you pull yourself out of his citroen. Your eyes are closed most of the time. There’s keys rattling and a door opening. Immediately you’re hit with… something. A heavy feeling in the bit of your stomach, pressing uncomfortably against your sternum.

Jane whispers reassurances to you while he acts as a human crutch. Guides you to a couch to sit on. Figure it’s probably comfortable, but something about it feels off. You run your hands on the material of it next to your thigh. You’re not sure if you’re surprised that it’s suede and not leather.

The memory of seeing Jane’s murdered family making headlines comes unbidden. Completely uncalled for. You frown and make a vague attempt at growling the words away.

Warmth pulls at your hand. You realise you closed your eyes again. With bleary eyes, look up in front of you. There’s… no one there. Something in your mind begins to wake up. Twist around, with an arm on the back of the couch, to look behind you. There’s nothing there, either, but… but there’s a door. There’s a door half-hidden by a hallway corner. Screw your eyes shut a few times. Was that door there when you came in? Did you even pass through there on your way in?

When you turn back around to settle into the couch, you rest your head against the back of it. There’s no way you drank enough to be this out of it. Try to remember what you had to drink; there was definitely a lot of wine. More than you’d normally drink but… did you accept a drink from someone else? The poor wannabe mafioso boy? Did someone slip something in your—

“Hey, you with me?”

Jane’s voice startles you. Eyes wide, you catch him retracting the hand he’d reached out with. Clear your throat a few times. How far off in your thoughts were you?

“Yeah, uh—sorry. What’s up?”

The way Jane looks at you is unsettling. His eyes don’t seem to be doing more than flick back and forth between your eyes. You know better. Even your peripheral is picking up on his fingers. He’s… is he fidgeting?

“Are you—”

“I was just—”

Suddenly you’re thankful for the alcohol. This would definitely be the type of awkward situation that makes you want to jump off a cliff. Unpleasant. Jane motions for you to continue.

“I was, I wanted to—are you okay?” Wince at how loud your voice is. You don’t even know what time it is but it’s definitely late enough for there to not be a single sound around. Not even a car idling outside.

“Absolutely,” Jane replies easily, without missing a beat. Strange. “The guest room is ready. Do you need a glass of water?”

You can’t help but frown. There’s something just off about his choice of words and the succinctness he’s speaking with. Without thinking much, you just lean forward to let a finger brush against his left hand and.

And—

And you just drop, boneless, back into the couch like something suckerpunched you. You’re trying desperately to compute what just happened. You saw something. You definitely saw that, right? A bloody smile on the wall and—shit, fuck, were those bodies? Corpses? Was there any way you could’ve heard about that on the news? How much attention do you even pay to the news? Would news outlets have even known about details like that? Where on earth—

Somewhere, very far away, you can hear Jane calling your name. Your ears are ringing. There’s a logical reason for this right? Are you just having a belated post-traumatic episode? Are you just using familiar, impersonal imagery to deal with it?

You feel when Jane puts his hands on your knees. You feel it when his hands on your shoulders, shaking. It’s when his hands are on your face, thumbs brushing your brows, that you gasp for air. Slap a hand to his chest but not–not to push him away. You fist your right hand in his shirt and choke on your breath.

“Come on, breathe with me.”

Shake your head. No. You can’t breathe right. Not yet. Every time you blink you see something else. The note on the door–blink. A barren mattress against a wall–blink. A gasket, half the size it should be–blink. An old tube television playing the same tape over and over–blink. Your hand moves from being balled in Jane’s shirt to grabbing at his neck. Maybe, if it’s just a little more–

You close your eyes longer and screw them shut.

It plays like a movie, being sped up every few seconds. Driving through the house. Walking through the door. Put the mail down. Moving the bikes, training wheels and all. Taking the stairs two by two and then–

The note. The done, read quietly, and the slowly sinking realisation. And then the wall, lit with a lamp and the–

Try to blink the images and the–the tears? Blink all of it away. Bent over at the waist and holding onto Jane for dear life. It’s not what I see that’s distressing. It’s everything that comes with it–the shock, the consuming guilt, the rage and obsession. The dangerous edge that’s just under the surface, sharp enough to cut yourself just getting close to it.

He’s killed people, right? Patrick Jane has killed people. That’s the only way to identify the feeling of black sludge down your throat.

The image of the Devil comes to your mind, unbidden. Horns sharp and flames hot and rusting crown at his feet.

Jane tries to get up but tighten your grip on him. The movement jostles you almost painfully. Realize all your limbs are locked; knees trembling and arms shaking with the effort of holding on and holding still.

“Okay, alright,” you hear him say. Makes himself comfortable in front of you on the couch. “I’m not going anywhere. But you need to breathe, Skye. Whatever’s going on can’t hurt you here. You’re safe.” Slowly moves your hand to rest your fingers on his pulse. Steady, quicker than it should be, but thrumming. Constant.

He repeats a litany of reassurances, says to focus on his voice. The lights are too bright. Your eyes burn. Your throat burns. It hurts to breathe deeply. Try to pace your breathing with his heartbeat. Lose count of how many cycles you do like that.

“Tell me five things you touch,” you hear Patrick say. Safe enough.

“Dress,” you rasp, trying to flex your fingers. “The c-the couch.”

“Good. Keep going. What else can you feel?” The calm in his voice is almost maddening.

“Your–the–your shirt.” Cough once. Twice. Try to breathe deeper. “Your skin. The floor–under my feet. The floor.”

A thumb runs over my left brow. That shouldn’t feel as calming as it does.

“Good girl. You’re doing good,” Jane whispers. Something in his tone makes a shiver rip through your spine into your skull. “Give me four things you can see.”

Choke on the inhale. Only move your eyes. “The window. The coffee table. The fern. The…” You trail off, letting your eyes come back to the man in front of you. “You. I see you.”

“Perfect. Three things you can smell.” When did he move his hand? Why is he brushing hair away from your eyes?

“Dust,” you whisper. You try to add humour to your voice but it falls flat. Desperate. “The wine I drank. You.”

“Good girl. You’re almost there.” Is he… is he closer? “Two things you can hear.”

You exhale loudly and hope it conveys annoyance. There’s fucking nothing do be heard.

“My breathing, I-I guess.” All at once, it’s like the tension leaves your body. You let your head fall forward, rest your forehead against his. “You.”

“I’m going to start discounting that as an answer,” Patrick says, and you can feel the chuckle rumble between you. “One thing you can taste.”

You don’t let yourself think before you angle your head up an inch–the most movement you feel capable of, limbless as you feel. And kiss his forehead. Jane stays stone-still in front of you when you lick your lips.

“Am I still allowed to say y–”

All at once he crowds into you, forcing you to unfold, lean back into the couch. One knee propped next to your hip, one hand on the back of the couch and the hand at your cheek pulling you in.

But he stops just close enough for you to feel his breath against your lips.

The only thing you can hear really is both of your breathing, laboured and unsteady. Neither of you move; your hand grasping at his shirt trapped between you and your other at his jaw.

“You,” you whisper, taking a chance to break the silence. “I taste you.”

Jane keeping his silence for several interminably long moments. You can’t tell if it’s your heartbeat you can feel drumming through your arms or if it’s his.

“You’re impossible,” is all he says before taking his hand off the back of the couch and crushing his lips to yours.

You sigh through your nose and the rest of the tension leaves your body. You feel like you’re floating. It’s just a press of lips–nothing untoward, nothing explicit. But the way Patrick cards his fingers through the back of your hair has you feeling like you’re floating. Curl an arm around his neck to run your fingers through his hair in return.

Of course it’s fucking soft.

When Jane pulls back–slowly, like you’re a wounded animal ready to run at the first sign of movement–you try to follow. The squeeze of a hand at the back of your nek has you stay put.

“You need to sleep this off,” he says, and you resent how unbothered he sounds. Make a discontent sound at the back of your throat, which he has the gall to god damn scoff at. “You’re drunk and you just had a panic attack, Skye. You need to sleep.”

You sigh again and stare resolutely, though half-lidded, at a point beyond his right shoulder. You feel absolutely drained.

You weren’t exactly in full possession of your faculties earlier, and though you’re significantly less panicked, it feels like your skull is full of cotton. Everything seems to pass through like air.

“Not alone,” is the one condition you provide. You hope it sounds like it’s non negotiable. Because it isn’t. Falling asleep alone in this house, with all its windowed walls, would have been unnerving enough.

“Okay,” Jane says, after a second. “Can you stand on your own?”

Though you can, after being given the space to do so, you have to lean against him to actually walk.

“I think I was drugged,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on your feet. “I can’t think.”

Jane hums, but doesn’t offer any more of an answer than that. If you could just fathom the roads of your thoughts into a map, maybe you could figure out what that’s supposed to mean. You can’t, so you let it go. You’re slowly escorted to a double bed with the sheets peeled back. When Jane sits you down at the edge of the bed, it takes most of the energy you have left to turn around.

His fingers are warm when you feel them at your back, but they don’t move. You’re about to ask what’s wrong–or at least why he stopped–when you hear Jane pull away, followed by the rustling of clothes.

Your heart jumps into your throat and stays there.

“What are you–” You get cut off when arms circle around you and drape a very familiar button down across your front.

All you can think of is that it smells almost unbearably like him.

Warm hands are at your back again, and this time the zipper is slid down. Jane brushes the straps of your dress down your shoulders before stepping back again.

“You step out of your dress after you’ve put the shirt on,” he says quietly. “I’ll turn around until you say.”

You nod, mostly to yourself. Okay. Sure. Modesty. This is normal. This is what normal people who are adults and not in a relationship do. This is fine.

God, when was the last time literally anything was fine?

You swallow past the lump in your throat and slip the straps off your arms. Loop them into the sleeves and button the shirt from your sternum down. Sit on the edge of the bed properly and tug your dress off your legs from beneath the shirt. Keep your eyes on the floor the entire time.

“I’m–you’re good,” you stutter, playing with the edge of starched sleeves. And lift your eyes.

You absolutely refuse to look too closely at why your stomach feels like it’s doing its best impression of the Cirque du Soleil and immediately look away. It’s hard to breathe again.

This is what normal people who are adults and not in a relationship do. This is fine.

Jane says nothing as he walks up to you. Leans over to pull more of the comforter down, and you fixate on the nearest collarbone. He straightens only to place a hand on your shoulder and one at the back of your head–guiding you down until your head meets the pillow. Carefully gathers your legs and tucks them underneath the comforter.

His eyes don’t leave yours the entire time.

He only turns around once he’s brought the sheets up past your chest, and moves to the corner of the room to grab a chair. Brings it next to you when you lay in the bed.

“You can’t–Jane there’s no way I’m making you sleep in a chair in your own house,” you start to argue, trying to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“I’d keep you awake,” is the answer he offers. There’s nothing to read in his tone or his face, again. Just a blank statement that you’re perfectly at liberty of interpreting however you want.

“I’m in a bed I’ve never been in before in a house where…” You trail off. The fog in your head might be so thick you’d need a chisel to cut through it, but even now you can tell that bringing up murder is a bad idea. “In a house where I feel like a fish in a tank.”

Jane exhales sharply, akin to a laugh, but lets his hand rest on the pillow next to your head.

“You won’t be alone,” he says calmly. Knowingly. Bite your lip and turn to your side, to face him, and carefully put your hand in his.

It’s nice, for some reason. Seeing your hand in his. Seeing his dwarf yours.

“Sleep, Skye.” Jane settles into his chair, lets his head rest against the back and lets his other arm rest in his lap. Closes his eyes. “You can tell me everything in the morning.”

You huff–annoyed, confused, amused–but close your eyes, too.

And if you don’t dream of anything, when your heart finally calms down and you can finally slip into unconsciousness. It may have something to do with the warm body you wake up wrapped around in the morning.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the next update :)

@fucklife-or-me @newavenger @yearningforsappho @mamacakeishereforfun

[incorrecttowerofgodquotes]

Gundam: Witch From Mercury Season 2 Episode 1 Review

- The show immediately jumps back into the status quo, almost as if Plant Quetta was just a nightmare. However we can see all our characters reacting to the situation no matter what kind of facade they put up. Suletta is starting to doubt her actions, Nika is haunted by the fact her friends almost died, Shaddiq is already making plans to frame Jeturk, and Miorine is stuck watching over her father. There’s a nice dissonance between the Spacians having fun while our main characters have now experienced true terror, never being able to recover.

- The dueling committee has changed up due to the attack. Now that Shaddiq is getting more involved in his father’s business, Sabina and Renee are ready to take up the helm. Felsi is now the acting substitute since Guel’s MIA and Lauda became the new head of Jeturk Co. Fianlly, Secilia and Rouji are the same as ever (and Secilia adorably protects her boy from Renee’s advances)

- El5n is absolutely fabulous and I love every second he’s on screen. He’s serving cunt every single minute and everyone thinks it’s weird, but no one has directly called him out yet. Still, judging by the OP, there’s a lot more than meets the eye when it comes to our James Charles-wannabe. The writers also took time to link him to Norea, so perhaps there’ll be a relationship developing between those two in the coming future. People in forums have already stated that he’s the most terrifying character due to his manipulative personality and lack of clear goals, but I’m rooting for him. Nobody who becomes a replacement head to ride a death bot and seduce a tanuki has a happy backstory.

- Due to Jeturk suits being used in the attack, the companies are now starting to scapegoat them in order to gain more power. This is causing an immense amount of stress for poor Lauda, who’s lost both his brother and father. I guess taking L’s is hereditary. I’m absolutely expecting him to snap and try to murder everyone. And honestly, as long as he’s planning to murder Shaddiq, I’ll support him.

- Norea and Sophie both transferred into school but they’re so bad at hiding themselves that they caught in the span of less than an episode. Interestingly, Sophie isn’t the one who rushes things, but instead Norea. Sophie seems more interested in just playing around, eventually getting her work done but for now just enjoying the situation. Meanwhile, Norea is wholly devoted to the cause. She threatens Nika with death twice and has no problem attempting to murder Suletta the moment she thinks it’s appropriate.

- Sophie’s dolls are especially interesting. She has four of them, two are her parents and two are her little sisters, and all of them are worn as hell. However, despite saying she loves them, she replaces one with a stolen Halo almost immediately. Sophie probably has no idea of what a family really is, she’s just acting out the motions of it. She replaces her stuffed animal when she finds a “better” one, not realizing that true families don’t replace. There’s also something interesting going on with her calling Suletta “Big Sis.” If Suletta is a clone of Eri then that technically makes them sisters, and now Sophie, another Gundam pilot, is adding herself to that family dynamic. Maybe all Gundam pilots are linked, not by blood, but by situation.

- Prospera once again is manipulating the hell outta everyone. She says to Suletta that she didn’t do anything wrong when her daughter starts having doubts, but with Miorine she states that she believes Suletta went too far. She’s just telling both of them what they want to hear, and guiding each of them to her own desired goal. Also Suletta literally said her mom was a magician so the “Prospera is brainwashing Suletta” theory is also getting a lot of ground

- Quiet Zero is apparently a plan to end war throughout the galaxy, and I can already tell you, that the name makes it clear that it won’t be through some peaceful method. It’s either a weapon designed to destroy whole planets or it’s some Evangelion hive mind shit where everyone in the world will be linked through the GUND system. And if it’s the latter, that would make the connection between Gundam pilots we see even more important. Soon, everyone will be family

- Nika is stuck between a Gundam foot and hard place. Poor girl just wants to build up connections between Earthians and Spacians but the organization that sent her turned out to be a terrorist organization. She doesn’t want her friends to be put in danger, but she’s scared to come out and ruin her friendship. Her tendency to isolate herself is what got her almost squished, it was only Suletta looking out for her that saved her. I hope she can be honest with her friends in the future and achieve her goal of peace. One that isn’t organized from mass murder/brainwashing

- My boy Guel didn’t show up in the episode. He’s busy entering his depressive spiral. However from the OP, it looks like he’s on Earth. Give me vigilante Guel

- Finally, let’s talk about that gorgeous ending. The amount of symbolism in that minute and thirty seconds is off the wall. Watching Miorine’s ghost constantly pass through her, showing that the two want to be together but can’t connect. Then, Aerial fucking stabs her in the heart, awakening something, and suddenly Suletta is dancing, controlling the GUND bits in her possession. There’s multiple Suletta’s dancing, maybe hinting the clone theory. She also loses her headband, the one her mom gave her, showing that she’s gained her own autonomy. Finally, her and Miorine are in formal dresses, holding hands, probably at Miorine’s birthday. Suletta looks more mature, she’s shed her childhood innocence.

In short, I’m so fucking hyped to be back. My sons and daughters are really going through it and I hope they all get out with minor mental trauma. Except for you Shaddiq, you Sha-dick

[nokingsonlyfooles]

No Tagbacksies...

But I want to talk about this part:

Conservatives argue that Section 3 could apply to Vice President Kamala Harris, for example — it was used to block from office even those who donated small sums to individual Confederates. Couldn’t it be used against Harris, they say, because she raised money for those arrested in the unrest after the murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis police in 2020?

I got sucked into info-dumping about needing to look at intent and results along with method yesterday, and this is why that's so freaking important. "No u" is not just for arguing with strangers on the internet, it's for political action.

The above is a threat, an attempt to make Democrats back down from invalidating Trump off the ballot. Specifically Democrats, because if they don't play nice with Republicans, Republicans won't play nice with them. (Ha-ha, sure wish I knew why Dems are always so willing to believe the GOP will play nice!) Will they actually back down because of this? I don't know. Will Republicans actually follow through on it whether they back down or not? I don't know that either!

But I do know that this is only a viable threat because we're looking at method over results and intent. If we oversimplify to the point that we're willing to accept doing violence to resist the government is wrong, no matter who or why or how much, this is a perfectly cromulent argument. The January 6 "rioters" did violence to resist the government and so did the BLM "rioters." Insurrectionists! We'll have to bar everyone associated from office! Wow, but that's a lot of people. Maybe we're all being a little overzealous about this "insurrection" thing, eh?

Okay, say it with me so you don't forget: Violence in support of a wannabe dictator does not equal violence in support of people who keep getting murdered by police. And if you've got room for a little extra credit: Property damage does not equal showing up with a scaffold and demanding to hang the Vice President.

I've mentioned the Machine that Dispenses Justice before.

It's a unicorn because it's not real. We can't build a legislative structure that coughs up justice every time without any human imperfection to guide, interfere with or mitigate it. The complex interplay between method, results and intent is only part of why.

Neoliberals (among others who buy their rhetoric) really want that that Justice Machine. The messiness and conditionality of real justice bothers them. Conservatives DGAF, but they're willing to pretend in order to get Democrats to shoot themselves in the foot. See above. Oh noes! The Justice Machine won't work every time if you add a piece that requires a human being to detect nuance! Violence is always wrong, isn't it? Maybe, if we just agree that the threat of violence was overblown in this case, we can leave this broken gear aside and get back to building the machine for real? (As soon as it's politically expedient, we're going after that Black woman, aren't we? Oh, yeah. Totally.)

While we're gearing up to blame voter apathy, poor white trash and privileged Progressives for whatever the election might bring, the folks in the Room Where It Happens are busy making deals that will bypass the voters altogether. Does the current Machine that Dispenses Justice (justice pending) say a man who wants to end democracy is allowed to run in a (theoretically) free and fair democratic election? I don't know yet, but your input will not be required for this aspect of our "democracy." Don't call us (or do, we have plenty of volunteers and form letters for dealing with you!), we'll call you when it's time to pick a candidate. NO! DON'T VOTE THIRD PARTY! ARE YOU MAD?!?

But with Republicans willing to forgive people who want to hang them for the sake of winning a few more elections, and Democrats elevating compromise above self-preservation, even if Biden wins, you might not get that peaceful transfer of power you want. You might not get that safety you want. We have yet to generate consequences that will take Trump (or another man like him) out of the game, although we swear up and down that the system we've built is meant to do that. The Machine that Dispenses Justice (justice pending) just can't process someone with that level of power and privilege. And that's not justice... or democracy. That's a fucking emergency, we are about to have a fucking election, but I don't hear any candidates willing to admit it yet.

So what are we fighting for?

I know you have an answer. You're a human being with a human brain; you can think when you want to. But, no matter what your answer is, are you sure that's what the folks on your ballot are fighting for too?

[frenchpsychiatrymuderedmycnut]

by unofficial wannabe is

capturing visions

somewhere on rue victor hugo

———

a bit of a holiday window my new artist friend did for our village. she is old and poor and yet has the clarity of her spirit and heart to guide her beautiful talents. My artist friend is my christmas spirit guide this year. the rest of the world is a bloody disappointment.

[drrandombear]

A New Villain Approaches

Fanart for @mtqcomic (if you’re looking for a good terraria sprite comic I highly recommend!)

I also just added the Perforator Hive worms cause I feel like it fits this dudes vibes :]

[kpopomegaverse]

Not So Soft - Alpha Rosè

Warnings: smut, semi public sex, slight possessive nature, omegaverse, knotting, mate marking, bathroom sex, rosie has a dick, fem reader, alpha Rosè

Rosie was probably one of the softest alphas going, hating the idea of becoming a totally possessive and rude Knotthead like many alphas were. She was always kind and considerate to your needs, her personality sometimes making people mistake her for an omega. Which often lead to people assuming you were single.

Now, Rosè is pretty level headed and can usually deal with that happening quite pleasantly and in a calm matter. But the two of you hadn’t seen each other in weeks and not being mate-marked the only real sign that you were taken would be her scent. Due to the not seeing each other not one part of you smelt like her.

Unfortunately for an aloha with poor judgement you were an easy target, pressing up against you in the line as you waited to order your food for the date. Well, to say your girlfriend was pissed would be an understatement. You barely had chance to puss him off before she shoved her way between the two of you. Glare hard and a deep growl slipping past her lips, “Mine.”

Scoffing he took a step closer to you, smirking as he released some alpha pheromones “Don’t see your mark on her, I can show her a real alpha”

Lunging forward she was seconds away from punching him square in the face had you not whined. Snapping her head in your direction her gaze going incredibly soft at the sight on your trembling form, before realising why you were feeling so weak. Anger rising at the ever growing scent of this wannabe alpha infront of you. Grabbing your wrist she drags you to the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

-

Leaning you against the sinks she wraps her arms around you, nuzzling deeply into your neck laying soft kisses to the sensitive area. It isn’t long before they become more heated as she sucks and bites at your skin, your body reacting with an embarrassingly loud moan that has her smirking cockily.

“Needy, babygirl?” Her hot breath fans across your neck as she lowers her mouth, hands making quick work of unbuttoning your shirt, kissing along your stomach muttering about how much she loves you and wants to claim you.

Unclasping your bra she latches her mouth onto your sensitive bud, your body arching into her touch. Shuddering and mewling at the coldness of her hand when she pinches the other. Knee slotting between your legs.

“R-rosie mhh!” You moan when she pulls you down harshly guiding your hips along her thigh, cock bulging in her sweats.

“You want it? Want my cock like a good girl? Hmm fuck”

Wet patch forming as precum beads at the tip she pulls away, releasing her cock. Sweats pooling at her ankles.

“Bend over baby” she all but groans out, jerking her shaft as she speaks readying herself for you.

Bending over the sink you cant help bite your lip in anticipation, whining needily when she pushes your skirt up. Uncaring that the whole restaurant could probably hear you. Pulling your pants to the side to rub the tip agains your folds, teasing you with a harsh slap to your ass.

Yelping in surprise you push back greedily silently pleading for her to push in, which she does thrusting harshly till shes flush against you. Hands gripping your hips she takes off. Her pace fast and rough, her possessive side showing when she reaches around you to grab your throat.

Pulling your upper body agains hers as she lightly chokes you, sucking harshly at your jaw making sure to leave plenty of marks her pace never slowing.

Your mouth falls open unable to stop the moans falling from your lips, the sound of flesh meeting flesh and her thrusting into your dripping heat filling the room. Your first orgasm wracking three your body, yet her thrusting never stops.

“Who. Do. You. Belong. To.” Thrusting harshly between each word the removes her hand from your throat to rub your clit, lips latching onto your neck and shoulders. Continuing to mark every but if skin available. Her knot beginning to push into you with each thrust.

“Y-you r-os-ie!” Your voice shaky and uneven getting loader as she pushes her knot in with a deep grunt. “Mine.”

The force of her thrust and the feeling of cum spilling into you in hot spirts causing you to fall over the edge body shaking in her arms as she bites down in your neck, mating you to her.

[twenty-qs]

Finally got around to watching The Batman and!!! They weren’t lying!!! Shit was good. And now I have THOUGHTS.

First of all, while I’m sure Bruce had a crush on Selina, I’m not convinced she fully liked him back, because uhhhh she was clearly in a relationship with Annika?? Hello???? They lived together, she called Annika baby, she was willing to literally drop her lifelong revenge quest instantly and move somewhere else with Annika to protect her??? For a good portion of the movie she was probably just trying to seduce Bruce so she could get what she wanted—revenge for herself and Annika. By the end I think she started feeling some of the fuzzies for him, but yeah I’m glad they let her walk her own path. It would’ve been way too jarring for her to rebound immediately to a guy whose face she hasn’t even seen.

Second, that one post about the Riddler being a symbol of alt right extremism? HELL yeah. This movie actually tackles one of my biggest fears about vigilante heroism, especially media like the Punisher. Vigilante heroism glorifies quasi-militaristic violence enacted against “criminals,” who 9 times out of 10 are depicted in media as poor people of color. I’m so so glad that Batman’s hiding in the shadows thing was critiqued as what it was—a form of domestic terrorism. Bruce at least never used lethal violence (which is more than can be said about, you know, the actual police). But it’s sheer luck that Bruce had a strong moral compass and a willingness to learn that came with his ludicrous money and muscles. Who’s to say some Batman wannabe will take inspiration, but won’t have that restraint or that support (Alfred) to keep him connected to reality? That’s why it was so easy for the Riddler to assume Batman was on his side. They’re literally the same breed of justice—a self righteous vengeance. Bloodstained loners in the shadows who are only accountable to themselves. And Bruce was WRONG; the beliefs he was fighting for were built this whole time on his father’s lies, no matter how well intentioned.

God I just love that last scene with the flare in the water so much. The movie starts with him saying “I am the shadows,” and it ends with him being the light, guiding people out of the dark. Because that’s what true heroism is. That’s what true change is. Not isolating yourself in a tower, not hounding evil from the darkness, but finding unity and hope together. I think we lose sight of this because a lot of superhero media is actually just a power fantasy; by nature it’s centered on the self, a fantasy where I can fight for my loved ones and my beliefs. It actually disempowers Batman in a way to strip him of the mythos, and show him struggling to even help one child wade through the water. Because actually changing things, actually building community, actually helping people, is hard. It’s hard, long, grueling work. And it’s the only thing that can save us. Because only when we’re in the light, standing together and supporting each other, can we experience true hope and work toward a better future. Only through sustained, mutual effort can lasting change happen.

[bratkook]

sick entertainment. (m) kth

pairing. hitman!taehyung x hitman!reader genre. smut, pwp warnings. mentions of guns, slight depictions of violence/murder, they’re both hitmen please don’t read if whats mentioned is triggering, they make some dark jokes (they’re sick okay lmao) smut in forms of: oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, choking, dirty talk but its all playful despite it all hehe word count. 6.3k note. this is a request based off #85 off this prompt list (now closed) thank you for sending this in! 🖤 also uh….this may become a series, in which case, consider this a saucy prologue that gives you a glimpse into tae/oc’s...interesting... relationship

The slamming of the door makes Taehyung cock his eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across his face as he mindlessly watches the television, his ears listening to the way your feet stomp on the concrete floors of the loft, no doubt a trail of fire following your path. A laugh is begging to make its way out of him, chest trembling from holding it in because he knows he’s in deep shit, he’d known it the second he had interfered. 

Blame it on his playful personality, or maybe his need of meddling in business that very clearly wasn’t his, either way the second he heard the name of the next target you were assigned he knew he had to make a game out of it. Is it sick, or twisted? Maybe, but the man was a well known scumbag, a slimey wannabe mobster that has far too many hits out for him it’s a shock he still has a pulse, well had considering you were back now. 

Like every single assignment, he knew this one wouldn’t be missed, wouldn’t even have a news report made on him. It was the main reason why you were able to get away with it all, despite the police showing up for investigations whenever any unlucky bystander stumbled upon their body, they never seemed to dive deeper into who did it. They didn’t have to, they weren’t stupid, knowing not to bite the hand that fed them. 

As long as they continued to get a small portion of cash funneled into their department and you all continued to wipe out the low lives that made their job so hard, then there really was no crime committed. 

Namjoon called it transactional, but Taehyung called it boring. He liked it messy, enjoyed the thrill of it all, the possibility of not getting away with it, and with the help of police it took that all away from him. 

You knew he was up to no good, the gleam in his eyes when you had mentioned who you were hitting next spelled it out for you. Knowing Taehyung like the back of your hand made you wary, accustomed to the way his brain worked like a minefield, he was someone you had to watch from a distance and analyze before deciding your next move. 

“Welcome home honey.” Taehyung sings out playfully when he senses you getting closer, that same smile plastered on his face as he turns to face you, only getting wider when he notices the shiny black gun in your palm, one that actually belonged to him. It wasn’t your usual choice, something you no doubt swiped from its hiding spot when you came in, but you couldn’t exactly conceal the sniper you had used an hour prior enough to make it undetected in your hands on your way to your apartment. 

He knew it was currently disassembled and tucked into your backpack as you chucked it aside and marched your way over to him, hand clenched around the grip of his Ruger with murder so evident in your eyes. Taehyung doesn’t think you’ve ever looked cuter, even as you raise it up towards his chest once you close the distance between you. 

“You’re on thin ice Taehyung,” you laugh as you round the couch, standing directly in front of his sitting form, still casually sunken against the cushions as if you weren’t aiming for his heart. “You really think Namjoon’s going to let you come back if I tell him you’re playing games with my targets?”

Your boyfriend sighs at that, a roll of his eyes being sent your way as he drops his head to rest along the back of the couch with a groan. He didn’t need you to remind him of his current standing with Namjoon, knowing fully well that he had crossed a line by smashing that random man’s face into the fancy bar counter for simply looking at you. It wasn’t fair really, had he taken the time to get to know the guy he would have realized just how high up that random man was in terms of connections, but Taehyung could blame his tunnel vision for cutting the introductions short. 

Like you said, his brain was a minefield, one wrong step was all it took before his fingers were tangling into the poor man’s hair and connecting his face with the wooden counter. He wasn’t even sure what set him off, the edges of his sight blurring together as he wrapped his fingers around his throat, pulling out the small gun he always had tucked away with him, pressing the muzzle against his temple and laughing maniacally as the man tried to pry his hands off of him. 

He liked to keep things exciting, but unfortunately for him that excitement ended up costing Namjoon far too much in order to keep Taehyung from being thrown into jail, which would have arguably been a lot better than being stuck on what could be considered probation, no longer able to work unless Namjoon deemed it acceptable. 

“Children shouldn’t play with guns.” Taehyung mocks, hoping to distract you while his eyes stayed glued to the end of the barrel, following it as you inched it closer with a wicked smile on your face. He knew he was on thin ice, nearly ruining your shot, potentially resulting in the target escaping because of his stupid game. That wasn’t too big of an issue, the chase made it fun some times, but considering this target had a bigger money sign tacked onto their back there would be no way you could let a fuck up slide. 

He smiles still, lips curling up and showing his teeth as he focuses on your face now, seeing the way you look at him. You had those crazy eyes he loved to see, full of adrenaline, body still buzzing from earlier, analyzing his every move as you tuck the end of the cold barrel under his chin and slowly cock the safety back with a soft click. 

“Who said I was playing?”

The small flash of excitement sparks in his eyes as you dig the muzzle into his skin, his mouth dropping open as he breathes out a laugh, his large palm coming to clutch around your own, urging the gun further into his skin. 

“Do it,” he taunts, guiding your fingers to slide over the trigger, floating off of it as you observe him. 

“I should’ve done it the second I saw you leaving that bastards apartment” you threaten, remembering the rage you had felt when you witnessed your boyfriend exit the complex and look directly up at the building across from him, knowing you would be perched on the ledge with your gun aimed at the window as you waited. The childlike wave he had sent you from the ground made you want to change your aim towards him, the urge to pull the trigger only increasing when he sent you a simple text telling you to enjoy the chase. 

That was the first push of the domino that sent everything collapsing and as you peeked through the window and saw your target frantically packing a bag as he looked around you couldn’t stop the flash of annoyance from flaring inside of you. It didn’t take much guessing to figure out that Taehyung had notified him that his head was on the line and now he was going to try to run. 

It was supposed to be a clean job, it was the main reason you preferred to use a sniper instead of the slightly more intimate methods used by the others, all you had to do was disassemble your Sako and get yourself off whatever ledge you were on and that was it, job completed. Anticipating a chase was not something you thought would happen today but the second he began to shove clothes into some random bag you knew you were losing your window of opportunity. 

“How far did he get?” Taehyung laughs, eyes full of mischief as you glare at him, that tiny smirk on your face giving you away, showing him just how amused you were at his antics despite the gun pressed against his skin

“The stairwell.” You knew the layout of his building well enough to know exactly what exit route he would take, beginning the chase Taehyung had been so eager to start. Having to get down from your spot and somehow beat him before he left his apartment was too far fetched, but catching him before he exited the complex completely was the only thing that kept you from admitting defeat. 

Your heart continues to rapidly beat in your chest as you recall it, how your lungs had burned as you took the stairs two at a time once you managed to get inside the complex, nearly ramming into your target as he rounded the stairwell in his haste to leave undetected. 

Had it not been for his already set paranoia he would have simply shoved you aside, not expecting a girl to be the one in charge of taking him out, but the second he spots the unhinged look in your face, the way your eyes glimmer when you realize you caught him, he knows it's too late to run. Thankfully for you, he accepted his fate pretty easily after that. 

“Did you leave a mess?” 

“I couldn’t use my Sako you asshole.”

Taehyung laughs freely now, his other hand coming to scoop around your waist and pull you closer, your thighs slotting between his. If you couldn’t use your precious Sako he knew you were pissed, hence the gun to his throat. There was nothing you hated more than having to come in close contact with whoever you were meant to kill, you weren’t a fan of the bargaining they tried to make with you, not particularly enjoying seeing their face as you pressed the suppressor of your Beretta between their eyes before you pulled the trigger. 

“Is that why you’re so trigger happy right now?” He’s taunting you, biting his lip as he smiles up at you, eyes widening slightly as you gingerly place your finger on the trigger. “C’mon, teach me a lesson. Shoot me.”

You don’t need to be told twice. 

The second the last word leaves his mouth, your finger presses down on the trigger, the brief moment of shock is painted across his face when he hears the click, eyes squinting when he expects the searing pain that was sure to follow but it never came. In a blink of an eye his hands are expertly releasing the magazine of his Ruger, letting it fall into his grip as he brings it close to really check to see that it was in fact empty, something you no doubt did the second you entered the loft. 

Your joyous laughter fills the air instantly, dropping the gun from its position as you lose yourself in the giggles that escape you. “You should have seen your face.”

Taehyung continues to stare at the empty magazine, looking up at you incredulously, the beginning of a smile once again gracing his face at the pure shock that you actually pulled the trigger. “You were gonna fucking shoot me.”

“Oh please, like I’d ever shoot you–“

“You have!” He remarks, snatching the gun from your grasp and sliding the magazine back into place, remembering the time you gave him a warning shot to the shoulder the last time he tried to meddle in your business. Sure you might have just grazed his skin but a trigger was still pulled. 

Taehyung chuckles when you plop onto the couch next to him, body still trembling with laughter as you wipe underneath your eyes for any stray tears. “Don’t tell me to shoot you if you don’t actually want me to”

“You’re a psycho,” he jests, tossing the gun safely aside as he faces you, seeing the oh so innocent smile on your lips. 

“Don’t act so surprised.” He’s not, knowing you were two peas in a pod, just the right amount of crazy to level each other out, if any more was added to either of you there would no doubt be actual shots fired. It worked though, a nice balance between you that allowed the relationship to go on as long as it has. 

“You’d never actually do it,” he sighs, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his side, smug with the fact that you would never actually hurt him. “You’d miss me too much.”

“Would I?” A teasing laugh fills the air as your hand glides up his chest, fingers trailing towards his neck until they curl around his skin, feeling the rhythmic pulsing of his heart. When your fingers tighten around his neck he chuckles, the vibrations felt against your palm. 

The arm slung around your shoulder slides down to your back, scooping you over until you’re settling onto his thighs in his favorite position, a mischievous glint to his eyes flashing when you look at him.  “You definitely would baby, who else would be here to drive you crazy like I do?” His deep voice pulls you in, dripping from his tongue in a manner that makes you want to lean forward and savor every drop. 

“Should we find out?”

Taehyung just drops his head back once more, a cynical lift to his lips when you bring up your second hand to wrap around his thick neck, fingers digging further into his skin. “Please, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You’re sick,” you laugh out, squealing when his hands tighten their grip around your waist, his head leveling out as he stares at you with that same glint in his eyes. 

“I know I am, but you like it.” A gasp leaves your mouth as he slides you further up his lap, clothed core pressing into the slowly growing bulge in his pants. “Don’t act like I forgot the little stunt you pulled this morning.” 

Flashes of this morning play in your mind, the way you had teased him the minute he woke up and felt his cock pressed against you. You couldn’t help yourself when you rolled on top of him, kissing and biting his neck while you slowly rolled your hips above him. Taehyung honestly isn’t complaining about it, who wouldn’t love starting their morning off with their girlfriend so hell bent on making them cum.

The only downside of it all was the fact that you actually hadn’t made him cum, leaving him high and dry with an evil laugh as you rolled back off of him and went about your morning as if you hadn’t just committed an awful crime. That may be the reason Taehyung was so insistent on making your assignment tonight a fun little game for the two of you to play and now that that was done and over with he could finally have you on top of him just like this morning.

“You’re telling me you don’t like when I play games with you?” He huffs out a laugh at the teasing kick to your voice, a sinful smile on your lips as you allow him to unzip your sweater, tugging the loose material off your body to reveal the simple black shirt you wore underneath.

“That wasn’t a game, it was torture.” His words are muffled as he leans forward, lips pressing kisses into your skin, breath fanning out and sending tingles down your spine. It was funny how he could pick and choose what was classified as a game, the earlier antics he caused seeming more like torture than you grinding on him at the crack of dawn but you’d let him believe it.

The hold you have on his neck loosens, your arms spreading out to allow him to slip the sweater off of you entirely, large palms now coming to roam over the small sliver of exposed skin that peeked out under the hem of your shirt. “You know what would be so hot?” His cold fingers leave a trail of goosebumps as he inches the material up, little by little, revealing your belly button, the edge of your bra coming next as you hum in question. 

“If you ever wore some hot ass latex or leather on the job.” He groans unabashedly at the thought of you in a tight leather corset, boobs accentuated as it hugged your skin. Maybe you’d wear a cute little garter with your Beretta tucked into it, or one of those adorable daggers you had grown so fond of recently. 

It might be a wet dream of his but you just snort at the thought, not being able to imagine yourself getting a decent shot with something so restrictive on, god forbid Taehyung decided to play another game of cat and mouse you’re not so sure a leather corset would hold as you chased your target. 

“That's so impractical, I’ll do it for you here though.” That appeases him, a smug smile on his lips as he continues to pull up your shirt, taking his time as if he was unwrapping his favorite present. With your red bra fully revealed he sighs in appreciation, tossing the shirt aside without a care to fully admire you. 

His hands cup over your bra, thumbs gently tracing the swell of your breasts before giving a rough squeeze that makes you breathe out a laugh. “Will you really?” He questions, keeping a good hold on you as he flips you over, flat on your back with your head resting by the armrest of the couch. Your elbows hold you up as you smile at him, dazed as you watch him tug up his grey shirt and throw it off to the side. 

“Yeah, only if you buy that cute maid costume I found and wear it for me.” Taehyung doesn’t even think twice before agreeing, stomach tensing up as your fingers trace along his skin, circling around the random scars that litter his body from close encounters and senseless fights. They serve as physical reminders of your boyfriend’s careless behavior, that minefield mentality making the worst decisions possible in the name of getting a quick thrill. You follow them up until you reach the tiny scar you were responsible for on his shoulder, shallow and faded to a lighter tan now that it was healed.

“I told you, you’re trigger happy.” His hand grasps your own, bringing it back down to the couch as he chuckles. “I think you’re a danger to society Y/N.” 

“Hm, am I?” Your voice drawls out as you stretch out, enjoying the way he watches you like a predator would his prey, sharp eyes hyper focused on your every move and you swear he can hear how your heart races in your chest. When he simply hums in response, nimble fingers beginning to unbutton your jeans, you can only giggle and help him as best as you can, lifting your hips and pulling your legs until the tight material has joined the growing pile on the floor.

Taehyung slots between your thighs with ease now, hands digging into the sofa as he holds himself up and leans forward to kiss you once more. His breath is felt on your face as he groans at the taste of you, forever loving the feeling of your lips on his, an endless craving he would never get over. You taste like your favorite chapstick, sweet like candy, and when his tongue peeks out to get a better dose you breathe his name out in a sigh that sounds like music to his ears.

Resting his weight on his knees, his hands are set on their mission, palms sliding underneath you until they reach the back clasp of your bra, expertly unhooking it until it snaps against your skin. A playful laugh is passed between your mouths as he does so, his teeth gently nipping at your lips before he begins his descent. Sloppy kisses are pressed along your jaw as he pulls the straps of your garment down your arms and lets it fall onto the floor.

As he reaches the juncture of your neck he takes a nice inhale, chuckling when he catches the hint of your sweet shampoo mixed with the metallic tang of gunpowder. “You smell like work–“

“Get off, I’m gonna shower!” You try to swat him off of you but he’s quick to grasp your hands, pinning them above your head, giving you a wicked smile as he stares down at you, loving the way your nose twitches in anger at being held down by his arms and hips. 

So cute. 

“No, I finally have you right where I want you.”

“Is that so?” Taehyung chooses not to answer you as he starts to continue the trail of kisses down your neck, grabbing both wrists in one hand as his other trails down your chest. The ticklish feeling leaves you fidgeting around as he grabs a handful of your tits, squeezing the flesh before slowly circling around your nipple until it hardens at the sensation. The wet path of kisses passes your collarbones, soft smacks of his lips on your skin as he nears your neglected breast, kisses around the swell of them in a teasing way.

When he finally envelopes your other nipple into his mouth you gasp, arching your back to push more of you into his mouth, feeling the vibrating hum against your skin as his tongue flicks around your areola. Tingles shoot up your spine as he pinches your nipple in his fingers, pinching and rolling the bud between his grasp, the feeling of his sharp teeth press into your skin when he smiles at the way you react to his touch, soft moans flowing past your lips the longer he teases you.

With a slight pop, he releases your nipple, a satisfied laugh hitting the air when he sees the way it’s covered in a sheen of his saliva, rising and falling with each of your breaths. His palm still holds your hands hostage but as you fidget in his grasp he releases them, allowing you to tangle your fingers in his hair, yanking at the soft tufts of dark brown until you were content.

“So this is right where you want me?”

“Almost.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah,” he leans up and kisses you once more before trailing down your body, your hands still tangled in his hair as he descends in the same fashion as before, an endless trail of smooches down your ribs, across your torso and around your belly button. The final kisses are pressed into your hips as his fingers hook into the band of your underwear, pulling the waistband of your matching red thong up at the sides and letting it snap against your skin like an annoying child, snickering at the sound it makes. 

When you nudge your knee against his sides he stops fooling around, finally yanking them down your thighs, gingerly unhooking them from around your feets to be forgotten entirely now that he stares down at your exposed pussy. A smile graces his face at the sight, folds wet and glistening, already messy in a way he couldn’t resist as he glides his face against your inner thighs. “This is where I want you.”

Your fingers twirl around his hair as he messily kisses around your lower lips, eyes falling shut as you focus on each touch on your body, the brief nudge of his nose, the had press of his lips and finally, the cool sensation of his saliva as he licks a broad stripe up your slit, tongue collecting the drips of your arousal. 

“Fuck, Taehyung.” It comes out as a mewl, head dropping back in awe when he repeats the motion, tongue slipping through your folds, the tip of it meeting your clit in a small jolt that leaves you breathless. He could do this all day, feel each stinging pull on his scalp that accompanies each flick of his tongue, your cries of pleasure only increasing when he spreads your folds apart and dives in with new set determination.

The messy smacks and slurps blend in with your choked breath, mingling in between each gasped syllable that make up his name, pleas of more that he can’t deny. Soft lips wrap around your sensitive nub, sucking gently in a way he knows you love, spelled out by your thighs spreading further apart, hips rutting into his face in desperation.

These deliberate flicks against your bundle of nerves are set to tease, proven when he stops altogether with an evil smile, your arousal coating his chin but he doesn’t mind it, revelling in the harsh yank you deliver to his hair at his stopping.

“Baby has a temper, it sucks to be teased huh?” Taehyung’s words are spoken through a smirk, mouth dropped open as he laughs carelessly, head pulled back by your hold on his hair. The cute pout on your lips doesn’t look threatening in the least, not when he can see just how close you are to falling apart, the subtle twitch of your thighs being telling enough.

“I promise, I’ll never do that again. Just make me cum, please.” His eyes glimmer now, teeth biting down on his lower lip when you guide him back down to your swollen lips, wet with a mixture of your arousal and his spit.

“Deal.” Without wasting another second, his lips are back on you, long fingers joining in as he circles your entrance, slowly easing their way inside in a familiar stretch that makes you arch your back. He smiles against you as he feels the tight ring of muscles wrapped around him, the soft walls of your pussy felt along his fingertips as he curves his digits inside of you, not content until you’re gasping above him as he tickles along your gspot.

“K-keep doing that.” You beg him, mouth dropping open as another moan spills out when he does as you ask, fingers pumping into you, rubbing along your sweet patch as his tongue continues to ravish you, circling and sucking on your clit to give you the release you crave.

“Ah, fuck I’m close.”

Taehyung holds in his laugh as your feet slide along the top of the couch, searching for some leverage as you lose yourself in the feeling. The grip you have on his hair tightens as you near your release, body set alight with each thrust of his fingers, eyes screwed shut as you savor it all. He can feel the way your walls squeeze his fingers, leaving his cock hard in his jeans when he thinks of the way your walls will feel around him next.

With a final flick against your clit you’re shouting out his name, flashes of light sparking behind your closed lids as your body tenses up, limbs rendered useless as the wave of your climax washes over you. Taehyung always loved the way your bones turned into jello when the pleasure rocked through you, fingers losing their grip and thighs flopping onto the couch when he pulled away, face looking entirely satisfied by your reaction.

“That was exactly how I wanted you.” A messy kiss is placed onto your hip once more, leaving a wet spot in its wake that can be attributed to the remnants of your orgasm coating his lips.

“Yeah, you know how I want you?” you pant, giggling when his kisses turn ticklish, eyes looking up at you in question. “Fucking me so hard I forget I’m still mad at you.”

Oh, he could do that no problem. 

It’s almost comical how quickly he’s able to get out of his jeans and underwear, his hand wrapping around his cock as he kneels onto the couch again. A smile spreads along his lips when he takes note of the look on your face as you stare at him, eyes following his hand as he lazily pumps his length. 

There's pure mischief in your eyes, a tiny devil on your shoulder that cheers at the prospect of you getting what you want, thighs spreading further apart in invitation for him. Taehyung presses his lips together as his thumb rolls over the tip of his cock, smearing the beads of precum around the swollen head before giving himself a gentle squeeze as he inches forward. 

It feels like time stands still as you watch with bated breath when he guides his cock to your entrance, a gasp slipping through your lips when he slaps the head of his cock against your sensitive clit, enjoying the small shudder that courses through your body with a discreet laugh.

“Taehyung,” you whine, rutting your hips up impatiently for him to hurry up. He finds pleasure in this though, his constant need to play games with you out ruling anything else.

“What?” He probes, smiling at you as if he didn’t have his dick inches from entering you.

“Fuck me, c’mon.” Your words trail off as his tip presses against you, slowly breaching your entrance in a familiar stretch that leaves your mind spinning. Taehyung can’t even get himself to make a sly remark like he always does, tease you about how messy you were before he even properly fucked you, no his head is wiped out of any witty comment, only able to focus on how amazing you feel around him. 

“Shit,” he gasps out, sliding into you with ease from how wet you were, the slick coating your thighs and dripping down onto the couch beneath you. You find comfort in the feeling of his hands sliding up your thighs as he bottoms out, fingers gripping onto your hips so tightly it dimples your skin, holding you still before sliding back out of you in a wet squelch. Taehyung can’t get himself to look away at the visual, how his cock shines in the light, coated in the strings of your arousal.

A choked moan reaches his ears the second he starts to thrust into you, hands keeping you still to prevent you from sliding around from the quick pace he knows you love. Your own hands scramble to reach down, fingers wrapping around his arms to ground yourself as he snaps his hips into you, the laughter mixing with delighted moans letting him know he wasn’t being too rough. No you would never think that, wanting nothing more than to let Taehyung have his way with you, hips knocking into yours with each rock, the head of his cock kissing your cervix in a dull throb that left your nerves on edge.

“Just like that,” you mewl, his attention dragging away from your soaked cunt, looking up at you and seeing the dazed expression on your face. Seeing you like this definitely topped the adorable way you had held a gun to his chest, broken down and vulnerable all because of him. It was a privilege he didn’t take lightly, allowed to see you in a light he knew others hadn’t.

“Fuck you feel so good, so warm,” his words are spoken quietly, almost like a train of thought that hadn’t meant to escape but he means them, completely lost in the way your walls flutter around him, each pulse leaving him grunting in ecstasy. 

“You’re right,” you start with a laugh, “I would miss you”

That grabs his attention, hips never slowing as he tilts his head in curiosity. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, no one else could fuck me as good as you do.” He chuckles at that, looking down at you and seeing the evil glint in your eyes as you smile, voice as sweet as honey when you ask him, “Would you miss me?”

Taehyung hums thoughtfully at your question, eyes falling shut when you clench around him on purpose, a teasing laugh leaving your lips as his mind blanks momentarily. “I don’t know, should we find out?” He mocks your earlier phrase as he trails his own hand up your body to your neck, large palm easily wrapping around it. He’s no stranger to the flash of excitement on your face, having grown used to the way you’d beg him to choke you so often it was like second nature now.

Call it sick but it made your brain turn into mush, made you abandon all dignity whenever he wrapped his hands around you. Maybe it should instill a sense of fear into you, knowing those same hands had done so much harm to others, the countless times they’ve been wrapped around other targets with the intent to kill. The soft glimmer in his eyes settles any thoughts before you can even have them, the twisted version of love spelled out in the curl of his lips as he asks if this is okay comforts you because you know he’ll never actually hurt you. 

“Tighter,” you mumble out, smirking when he listens, fingers pressing into your skin deliciously. The minute his hands are properly wrapped around you its like your body is lit up, every nerve ending spazzing out, allowing you to feel the pleasure tenfold as his cock continues to fuck you. Each obscene squelch of his cock mixed with the added feeling of him grinding into your clit makes your brain go fuzzy, your legs wrapping around his waist in an effort to keep him closer.

Taehyung knew you loved to be choked, loved to feel the pounding of your blood rushing through your ears, the way the edges of your vision would fade out, his own face speckled in black as the feeling spread. His eyes never leave yours, amazement displayed in them at seeing you fall apart, your small hand laying on top of his in a sense of security. Your chest rises and falls with each breath, the moans and cries only getting softer as your orgasm approaches you, eyes threatening to close.

He knows the signs too well, waiting for the right moment and just before he knows you’ll cum he releases your throat, the sudden rush of unrestricted blood flow pushing you over the edge and intensifying the feeling. It’s evident in the way you gush around his cock, body tensing as your climax crashes through you, your arms desperately clinging onto him as he fucks you through it, soft hushes and whispers pressed into your skin as he kisses you gently. 

Your mind wipes out entirely, eyes screwed shut as you come down, body buzzing with sensitivity as you ooze around his cock, leaving an unholy mess beneath you. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” He groans out, the desperate cries and soft mewls of his name are what finally push him over, spilling into you in ribbons of white, rutting his hips a few more times before stilling altogether, panting above you with sweat coating his hairline.

“I’d miss you too.” He mumbles out with a shy smile, gently brushing away the stray hairs from your face as you try to catch your breath. His face looks soft now, almost squishy as his cheeks puff out, it was hard to believe that was the face of a killer.

“Hmm, certified psycho Kim Taehyung goes soft for his girlfriend, who should I notify?” 

He snorts at your retort, pulling out of you only to flop on top of you without a care in the world, nuzzling his face into your hair because he secretly loved the smell of your shampoo mixed with the gunpowder he had teased you about earlier. “Maybe the FBI, I’m pretty sure they’d love to know the name of any accomplice.”

“I’m not your accomplice.”

“Right my bad, they think I work alone.” He chuckles as he recounts the way the crooked cops had notified them of the FBI’s increased interest in Taehyung after he had smashed that man’s head in. Really who would have pegged the guy as an FBI agent. It didn’t raise too many concerns for him though, Taehyung hardly meddled in foreign affairs in the states anyways. 

Before you’re able to tease him about his fuck ups once more the incessant ring of your phone drones off from the floor. With a groan from Taehyung he’s reaching down and pulling the device free from your sweater’s pocket,seeing it was Namjoon calling, no doubt ready to ask how the assignment went but Taehyung swipes the screen to answer. 

“You know, you really know how to kill the mood.”

Your jaw drops as you laugh, attempting to swat at him to grab your phone free from it’s confines but he’s determined, holding it tightly against his ears with a devilish smile.

“Keep it up Taehyung, you’ll be on probation until I say so.” Namjoon’s voice is heard loud and clear through your phone’s speaker, the eye roll your boyfriend gives being comical enough, his mood being dampened at the reminder. With a pout of his lips he’s handing you the phone, getting off of you with a slight grimace when he feels just how sweaty you two had gotten.

Your conversation is quick, finished by the time he was done cleaning up, exiting your room with new clothes on and your favorite robe to hand you. The very evident smile on your lips shows whatever you two talked about must have been good, no doubt having gotten endless praise from Namjoon along with a new assignment. “I know that smile, what’s up.”

Slipping the robe on with a sigh you stand up and wrap your arms around his waist, peering up at him in delight. “I get to use my Sako next week.”

He can only shake his head at the tone in your voice, speaking about using your favorite gun on a target like it was a shiny new doll for you to play with. “You’re psycho you know that.”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

[gavin-plz-call-me]

i saw you did an nsfw alphabet for wannabe challenge so i was wondering if you could do one for tears of themis? i'd love to see one for artem

Hell yeah, alphabets are the only nsfw stuff I'm good at writing

AO3

Artem NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

-Stills inside/beside you for a moment while you both catch your breath, then he’s combing through your hair, peppering your body with loving kisses.

-Has wet wipes/tissues to help clean you up at arm's length, so if let’s be honest, when you whine about not wanting to leave his side just yet, he can help you clean up.

-If you’re still clingy after a while, this man will carry you to the bathroom to get the rest of the way cleaned up.

-If you find yourself in a more dominant role in the bedroom sub Artem? It’s more likely than you think be prepared to pepper that man with so much love and care.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-His favorite body part of himself is his eyes. They’re a nice color, but I don’t think he thinks about his appearance too much.

-As for you, would it be cliche to say your brain?

-While your beauty was what attracted him first, your mind is what really sealed the deal.

-Your mouth is a close second, because it helps you voice your thoughts in that beautiful voice of yours and, I mean, if you wanted to give him a blow job too he wouldn’t be complaining…

-Is an ass man.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

-Is hesitant on deciding where to cum.

-He thinks cumming anywhere in/on you would not be a very pleasant experience for you.

-But in the heat of the moment, he’ll probably end up cumming inside you if he’s wearing protection, or on your thighs/ass if he’s not.

-When he cums, whether it be in you or on you, he’s grabbing you a tissue when he comes down from his high to clean you up.

-If you swallow his cum he’ll be a little disgusted, but a lot turned on.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-Has masturbated in his office after you’ve left on multiple occasions.

-Sometimes the perfume you were wearing was extra enticing, sometimes what you were wearing made you look extra hot, and sometimes your presence alone is enough to get him hot and excited.

-Is mostly ashamed about the times he did it before you two were dating because it felt like an intrusion of your privacy.

-Once Celestine came to his office right after he finished and he was so mortified that she’d somehow be able to tell that he did something. She knew something was up because of how much he was blushing, but she didn’t know what exactly

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

-Big old virgin

-I’m not even saying that to be mean plus being a virgin isn’t bad it’s just true.

-Sure, his lack of experience may be a bit of a hindrance at first, but he’s a clean slate.

-He’s not gonna be doing some weird thing with your clit because a girl he was with before liked that.

-Train him to perfectly pleasure you, and, trust me, he’s a fast learner.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

-Your first few times together he only did missionary, because, while he knew there were other options, he didn’t know how to initiate them.

-As he got more experience, however, he grew to absolutely love doggy style.

-Loves your ass, so it’s an obvious choice. Plus, if he’s extra flustered, he can easily hide it.

-Grips your ass extra hard while kissing your neck and back. If he’s feeling extra brave, expect a few whispers about how good you feel.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

-He has his goofy moments, but most of the time he’s 100% serious.

-Whether it be because he’s concentrating on learning how to pleasure you correctly, or, when he’s gained a bit of experience, just concentrating on both of your pleasure.

-I feel like as you guys get closer, however, an awkward moment may turn into a brief bout of giggles shared between the two of you before continuing.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

-Shaved himself completely when you two started dating.

-Was convinced you’d be disgusted by any hair down there. My poor insecure baby

-When he gets more comfortable around you, he’ll let it grow out, but he still trims it to keep it neat.

-Carpets match the drapes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

-Is a whore for a sexy, romantic atmosphere.

-I’m talking rose petals, candles, and a couple of glasses of non-alcoholic wine.

-Wanna have the most romantic love-making session imaginable? Set all of that up for him instead of the other way around.

-He’ll be so in love with you at that moment he’ll have no choice but to give you the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

-Before meeting you, he jacked off maybe once or twice a week, and it was more of something he had to do than something he wanted to do.

-When he met you, he thought you were the most attractive person he’d ever seen, so his sex drive and, naturally, his masturbation sessions increased.

-Increased to every other day, maybe every day. He tried to not think of you during these times as he felt it was an invasion of privacy emphasis on tried.

-After finally getting together with you, his sessions have decreased back down to once or twice a week.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

-Likes having sex in his office, but that’s the most public space he’ll do it in.

-Also loves it when you’re slightly dominant on him.

-Doesn’t want to do any of the more kinky stuff, tying him or you, depending on his mood with a tie is about as far as he’ll go.

-But just take charge, he loves it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

-Can’t go wrong with the good old fucking in bed. It’s easy, comfortable, and you guys can take as long as you want.

-Get him riled up at work by wearing something that beautifully shows of your ass, or make sure he knows you’re wearing that pair of panties you know he loves or, fuck it, no panties at all he’ll polietly ask you into his office so he can fuck your brains out.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

-Loves when you assert yourself, especially at work.

-Get all confident during a trial because you know you’re going to win? That’s all the motivation he needs.

-Does not help his productivity at all, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Expect to fuck after a trial, extra hard if you won.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-No threesomes/group sex.

-It’s not even because he’ll get jealous okay maybe a bit of that but you were his first and only. Everything he’s learned about sex has been about specifically pleasuring you, he wouldn’t know where to begin when having sex with other people.

-He’s more than content with you being his one and only.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

-Not skilled at the beginning like all things sexual, but he’s a fast learner.

-Good communication is key here, as it is in all aspects of sex with Artem. Guide him to where you want to be pleasured, praise him when you really like what he’s doing, and give him some delicious moans and he’ll be a pro at fucking you with his tounge alone in no time.

-Is too shy to ask for you to go down on him, and will insist you don’t have to when you try to initiate it.

-Ignore him and do it, the noises you draw from him are absolutely worth it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

-Starts off at a weird middle ground sort of pace, not fast and not slow.

-Is fond of slow and sensual when he grows more experienced, but will occasionally get rough with you.

-That usually happens when he gets a bit too jealous of a guy who got a bit too close to you for your liking.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

- doesn’t really have a choice in the matter at the beginning, mr. 30 seconds (sorry Artem)

-For real, he prefers longer love-making sessions, but if you’re teasing him in the office a quickie will ensue.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

-Grows more confident the more the two of you have sex.

-He does like fucking in his office, so he likes a bit of risk, but there being too many people in the office, or the chance of Celestine walking in at anytime, Artem would much rather feign working on a case and take you home.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

-At first, like most virgin boys, his stamina is basically nonexistent.

-Let him take his time, he’ll get to fucking you until the sun rises in no time at all.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

-Has never thought about getting one for himself when his hand does the job well enough.

-Is very open to using toys on you in the bedroom, especially when he’s feeling insecure about his ability to please you which happens often, scream his name and make him forget those insecurities.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-Not a teaser in the slightest.

-You want something specific in the bedroom? He’s already doing it, you barely have to ask.

-On the flip side, sort of loves it when you’re unfair to him.

-Just barely touch him and stop at the brink of his orgasm, he gets a sick sort of pleasure from that.

-It also helps him gain more control over himself in the bedroom, so it’s a win-win.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

-May try to stay quiet, after all, in all the porn he’s watched which isn’t a lot because I feel like watching it makes him feel uncomfortable the man is always basically silent.

-That does not work out for him, though. He gets so overwhelmed with pleasure that he can’t control what his vocal cords are doing.

-Gains a bit more control over it over time, but he realizes you like his moans, so he stops trying to keep them at bay.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

-Is a total switch.

-Can be pretty dominant at some times see his atmospheric card

-But I can totally see him wanting you to dom him sometimes. Loves seeing you dominate the court, if you bring that energy to bed, oh boy is he like putty in your hands.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

-He’s of average girth and slightly above average length. Has a nice, thick vein that runs the length of his penis.

-Uncut.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

-Has a very active imagination how else would he become such a great lawyer?

-And while that helps him out in his work, anything about you can really set him off.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-Is out like a light

-Especially the first few times, his body doesn’t know what hit him.

-But even after a while, he works so hard that the moment he has the chance to fall asleep, his body is taking that chance.

-Make sures to stay up long enough to get cleaned off and help you clean yourself up.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 1: Fallen!Cas

In A Fortress of Pine Trees | @mistofstars Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,380 Main Tags/Warnings: Endverse, Croatoan, 2014, 5x04, Smut, bottom!Dean, Angst, Top!Cas Summary: Future!Dean / Future!Castiel "Cas", he finally exhales. "I could need one of your amazing hippie massages right now" -it starts with a simple massage and ends somewhere else; Dean gives in to long neglected needs... DESTIEL in 2014

The Warmth of your skin | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,414 Main Tags/Warnings: Sharing Body Heat, Hurt!Cas, First Kiss, Naked Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, no explicit sex, human!Cas Summary: Dean and Castiel are in the middle of a forest, when a snowstorm surprises them in the middle of the summer. To make their luck perfect, Castiel breaks into the ice of a lake. There is only one way to survive this cold. Body Heat.

Are We Human? | @one-more-offbeat-anthem

Rating: General Word Count: 3,766 Main Tags/Warnings: human!/fallen!Castiel, first kiss, love confessions, pet cats Summary: After losing his grace, Cas struggles with being human. Dean tries to help him out—and in showing the former angel how to find joy in the little things, starts to find joy himself (if he's brave enough to reach for it). And also discovers that maybe cats aren't so bad.

The End Of The Beginning | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,885 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, omega Dean, alpha Cas, endverse, endverse Cas, heat, pwp, S5E4 The End, there's a sequel Summary: He just wished that Zach-y boy had picked a better time. Dean could feel those deep seated aches in his abdomen that could only mean he was a day or so away from his damn heat starting. Hopefully he could learn his little lesson before he had to lock himself away for a few days to keep himself from presenting to every damn alpha in a five mile radius. He usually took suppressants, but dealing with Lucifer had kind of taken front seat just long enough for Dean to miss a few too many doses. “Damn it,” he muttered to himself as he rubbed at his wrists, finally free. He wandered out to see where the hell he was. It was an old summer camp, that much he could tell, but that was about it. But as weird as all this was, as unreal and impossible as it had to be, the most mind blowing part was definitely Cas. Fuzzy, stoned out of his gourd, sex guru to a gathering of betas and omegas Cas. Cas, who smelled so strongly of alpha and everything that Dean had ever wanted that he had to shift himself when the guy wasn't looking to try and hide the quickly growing erection in his pants, praying that he wouldn't slick right through his jeans.

Finally Realized | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,018 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, alpha Cas, omega Dean, Dean in heat, human Cas, first time, porn with plot Summary: Dean is sick in bed, so Sam calls in a now-human Cas to come and take care of the cranky patient while he escapes goes on a hunt. Dean cooperates with Cas, but it just figures, when the cold is finally gone, his heat takes its place. Now denial stops being an options as Dean begs Cas for the thing he's always wanted, but could never admit to.

Sweet Cherry Pie | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,801 Main Tags/Warnings: No archive warnings apply, first kiss, first time, friends to lovers, top dean/bottom cas Summary: Dean takes the newly-human Cas to a diner to try some new foods. Cas wants more than a taste.

Tick Tock Goes The Clock | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,784 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, omega Dean, alpha Cas, human Cas, alcohol as a coping mechanism, implied mpreg, angst, porn with plot, drunken confessions, drunken sex Summary: It was a well known fact that every omega had a metaphorical biological clock ticking away inside of them, just waiting to spring the alarm and make the poor guy or girl go just a wee bit baby crazy. And as much as Dean Winchester tried to deny it, mostly to himself, the one inside him was gonna blow at any second. Even though Dean would never admit it to anybody, especially his brother, he had always felt pretty maternal towards Lisa's son, Ben. He’d always wanted a nice, big family with plenty of pups of his own, ever since he had presented as an omega as a teenager. At least, whenever John hadn't been pressuring him to act like the alpha his dad thought he should've been, that is. It had only gotten worse when Sam presented as a beta, so Dean had shoved that dream so far back in his mind that he completely forgot about it ninety-five percent of the time. That was exactly why the omega knew that his biological clock was gonna kick his ass any day now. Where he used to mostly forget about the idea of having a bunch of pups, it was now taking up the vast majority of his thoughts lately.

I Been Blind | @jemariel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 22,387 Main Tags/Warnings: Human!Cas, porn-watching, masturbation, mutual pining, porn with feelings, suggestion of m/f and m/m/f sex (in porn), oral sex, frottage, anal fingering, suggestion of bottom!Cas. Summary: Castiel is in love with humanity. At least, so long as he's not the one experiencing it. A lighthearted smutty romp wherein Dean helps Cas navigate the tricky minefield of human needs.

Roaming in the Dark (WIP) | @casbelieves

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24,624 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Explicit Sexual Content, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Bottom!Cas, Top!Dean, Heavy Angst, Smut, Fallen Angels, Apocalypse, Croatoan Virus, Canonverse, Minor Character Death Summary: A reimagined look into how "The End" came to be. Castiel does not return to heaven after he rescues Dean from his stint in an apocalyptical 2014. The brothers don't reunite. The angels do fall. A dangerous and deadly virus spreads worldwide. But, without fail, Castiel follows Dean and, perhaps, that is his only fault.

Room A Thousand Years Wide | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Mature Word Count: 34,921 Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Getting Together, Long-Suffering Sam Winchester Summary: Once the world and their lives are finally their own, and Cas has chosen humanity once and for all, he begins to find a new routine of daily life with Dean. Sam doesn't know how much longer he can take their apparently oblivious platonic domesticity, when their regularly scheduled evening goes out the window with a single text message from someone they never expected to hear from again. Ex-Ghostfacer Ed Zeddmore is afraid he's stumbled over something too big to let slide, and sends them a link to a potentially dangerous Ghostfacer wannabe, and a case that isn't at all what it appears to be on the surface. What they uncover dredges up a lot of interesting feelings all around, and they must finally face a few ghosts of their own.

Empty Spaces | @thisisapaige

Rating: Mature Word Count: 48,411 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Drug Use, Drug Abuse, Drug Withdrawl, Fallen Castiel, Pre-series Dean, Canonverse, Internalized Biphobia, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort Summary: [Castiel] found the colour. It was a green, one of the few gentle colours at the edges of his dreams and the one he tried to capture in his paintings, never quite finding the right hue. He spent so long chasing the colours, trying to find it though pills and needles, but they always evaded his grasp. Yet he found one, right here, hiding in the eyes of a stranger. He studied the colour, the subtle differences between dark and light, the little flecks of gold nearly hidden in the sea of green, the ring around the outside. He studied it, trying to commit the colour to memory. The other man cleared his throat. “Uh, dude?” Oh. Castiel forgot the colour was attached to a person. ~~~ What if Castiel had fallen before the start of the series and met Dean on a routine hunt? Set in the spring before Dean goes to find Sam in Stanford.

Gates of Bronze and Bars of Iron | iCeDreams (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 80,466 Main Tags/Warnings: Season 9 Divergent, Dean in Heaven Summary: Dean realizes that staying in Heaven and catching endless fish isn't living up to its hype. Especially since the gates of Heaven are still closed and there are no angels to guide you in the hereafter. Castiel is surviving Earth, fallen and human until a reaper brings his attention to a hunt forcing him to seek out his fallen brothers.

[masterthespianduchovny]

The Poor Development of the Marauder's Era

I've recently been listening to Binge Mode and, even now, I honestly believe the Marauder's era is some of Rowling’s worst writing of the series. When I say Marauder's Era, I'm simply referring to characters and events pre Harry.

The Marauder's era isn't poorly developed because I didn't like what happened. It's poorly developed because of how Rowling handled the characters, the events she put them in, and the reaction to said events.

As a kid, I respected Lily and thought she could do no wrong. As an adult, I find her decisions questionable. For transparency purposes, I read these books in real time and was a similar age as the characters. So, I don't want to hear anything about me being "unfair." Of all of the Mauraders era kids back then, I was the most generous to Lily. It's only when I reflected more about her role in the series that I realized how lackluster she is as a character and as a friend.

Rowling relies on Lily being seen as the moral compass to signify who and what is right or wrong during this era. The problem with this is that Rowling undermines Lily in the process. Minus being flat out called Mudblood by Snape, she has no proof that Snape has done anything her friends accused him of doing, but she unequivocally views it as the truth. Despite Lily listening to Snape, it's not really in good faith because she already has her mind made up about Snape's guilt.

Now, this is important to note because since Lily hasn't seen any of Snape's alleged bad behavior for herself, why would she definitively accuse him of these things? Lily claims she was in denial about this when she ended their friendship, but it's quite obvious she does believe Snape is guilty.

What makes Lily's beliefs and choosing to side with others over Snape is that none of the Marauders have ever mentioned ONE instant of Snape doing or saying some fucked up shit. As a reminder: THEY HATED HIM. They never mentioned anything about him bullying others, calling muggles mud blood, or any other troubling behavior. It was merely because he existed. They couldn't even tie him to being a Death Eater.

Also, let's consider the fact that kids like Snape have rumors made up about them all of the time. ALL OF THE TIME. Not even Snape's own bullies could attest to Snape doing the things Lily's friends claimed Snape did, yet Lily believed their words?

And, maybe I'm being nitpicky, but the fact that Lily says "my friends" in reference to defending Snape has always rubbed me the wrong way. Snape IS her friend too. Her best friend, in fact. Why wouldn't she have said, "my OTHER friends." My Gryffindor mates or whatever? IMO, that implies that Snape is just some weirdo she talks to and not the person she's known the longest.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THIS:

Have Lily overhear Snape calling one of his peers Mudblood. Have the Marauders be incensed that Snape called someone a mud blood. Have them call out Lily when she tries to intervene on them confronting (confronting NOT bullying) Snape. Hell, even have Snape fucking bully someone.

Because as far as canon goes, Snape was a bystander as death eater wannabes bullied people and presumably did nothing about it. We don't see any of his alleged wrongdoings and the people who hate him can't even recall that this happened.

There shouldn't be an ambiguity or readers relying on the word and opinion of Lily to guide their opinion.

Some may say, "she's only a kid." To this I say, "You're right." Lily was a teen and teens don't always know how to handle complex situations, I will give her the benefit of the doubt. However, this means we shouldn't hold her as the moral standard.

Lily essentially says that the difference between the Marauder's bullying people and the death eater wannabes doing it is dark magic. I'm sorry, but that's weak sauce. Dark magic is such a vague and broad thing depending on what you're talking about, so nah...Also, is there something not dark about James choking Snape with soap? I mean, that could've traumatized Snape to the extent of him being triggered by soap. Isn't that dark?

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THAT.

Jut have Lily acknowledge that behaviors by the Marauders and death eater wannabes are both bad, but for different reasons. Problem solved. She can even emphasize that she takes so much issue with Dark Magic due to why it's being used and what it ties into.

We hear how great Lily is and that everyone loves her, yet Harry meets literally NOT ONE FRIEND of Lily's. He meets James' friends and a former teacher of hers. We don't see Lily hanging out with anyone else. We hear examples of Lily feeling sad for people, but no references to her actually helping people or supporting others somehow.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THAT.

Maybe instead of Lily talking about the bad thing Avery and Mulciber did, she could've intervened, even if it was too late, and "saved" Mary. Hell, we could've had Lily hex James rather than just threatening it. I'm sorry, after literally reading the many ways the Golden Trio are there for each other even before big shit started to happen, Lily threatening to hex someone who is actively bullying her friend doesn't cut it.

And give her her own friends for Harry to meet.

Lily is said to be smart and empathic, but how she deals with Snape and his issues don't exactly support this.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED IT.

Have Lily genuinely listen to Snape's grievances about the night he was saved. Don't have her be so dismissive about the Lupin thing. Maybe have Snape set up by the Marauders and the big reveal is a flop.

I know Rowling wanted to tackle people having shady pasts and how they can change, but 1. Either she needed to commit to it being a rivalry or 2. She needed to appropriately deal with the bullshit the Marauder's did. Snape is justifiably angry and distrusting of the Marauders due to one almost killing him as a joke and the other publicly humiliating him. This doesn't even account for YEARS of bullying, which remus admitted happened.

We cannot say that bullying is wrong, and then excuse the bullies because they were on the right side of a war.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THIS.

She should've had Remus flat out acknowledge they were wrong for what they did and that there was no excusing it. Then, have Sirius and Remus privately talk about this where Sirius admits it too. OR, despite loving them and his dad, Harry realizes how flawed they were and that their reasoning is simply to protect their dad not necessarily because James grew up. OR Rowling could've not written James and Sirius behaving as psychopaths AS WELL AS show instances of Snape starting shit with them.

SHOW US Snape deliberately starting shit with the Marauders and James trying to apologize. Show us James' growth outside of that. Don't tell us that James is secretly hexing Snape behind Lily's back because it has her looking like a dumb ass.

Also, all of this James stuff is important because Lily ending up with James is such a bad fucking look. IMO, it makes her disgust at his behavior seem performative. It says that she didn't really care about him bullying others, but rather, the perception of her being with someone who bullied others. And, no, having Lily smile as Snape was actively being bullied, and then poverty shaming him isn't a good look.

"BUT, BUT SNAPE CALLED HER A RACIST SLUR!!!"

It doesn't matter how much you want to give your friend the benefit of the doubt, if you believe he's calling others racist slurs, you need to confront it. And, if you believe it to be true, you need to end it. You don't wait until he calls you the slur to say, "hey, maybe he really is this racist person people claim he is."

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THIS.

After James saved Snape's life, this is where he could've matured and his big head lessened. He still hexes others, but leaves Snape alone because he realized that they went to far with him even before Sirius' "prank." Instead of James being the antagonizer, it should've been Sirius. Once again, James breaks this up and he and Sirius gets into a small argument. Snape is let down as Lily runs up and Snape says his mud blood remark.

Snape then tries to hex Sirius and James steps in once Snape refuses to stop. It gets out of hand and Snape accidentally harms Lily.

I won't lie, I'm a HUGE Snape fan. However, because of how Rowling handled this era, there are many ambiguous things, situations that don't make any sense, not enough development of characters, etc which undermines the story she tried to tell.

Yes, I do love the series, except I don't like any of the Marauders or Lily. I don't hate Lily, but she grates. Remus really was a coward and irresponsible as hell. Sirius was childish as fuck and, no, him being in prison doesn't excuse or justify all of his behavior. James saved his peer's life, and then publicly humiliated and sexually assaulted him. He didn't stop bullying, he just stopped how he did it.

This doesn't mean I believe that Snape was faultless, but I believe this era was so poorly told that by default, I believe and sympathize with Snape.

Although I believe Rowling wanted readers to do this, I don't think she planned for some readers such as myself to hold the positions we do. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy Snape as is, but I do believe Rowling didn't intend for me to hold the views I do about Lily and the Marauders.

I don't understand her laziness during this era, especially since it's so key in Snape, Lily, and James' stories.

Lastly, she could've developed James and Lily better.

I know she only has so much time, space, pages blah blah blah. However, the best writers find a way to make it work with what they have.

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 6

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,327

Warnings: panic attacks, Bucky recalls his accident

A/N: I don’t have much to say, Bucky’s real emotional in this one. I hope you enjoy this chapter :’) 

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Everywhere Bucky looked his eyes and ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds and colours. Red and green baubles hung from the ceiling, shimmering like disco balls and sending sparkles around the mall.

The air smelled like pine and cinnamon, something he usually liked, but it was so pungent and unpleasant that it made his stomach churn and bile rise up his throat. He tried to breathe through his mouth, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

Flashes of silver and gold momentarily blinded him, and as someone walked past him, their shopping bag knocked against his leg. It didn’t hurt but it made him seethe with misplaced anger. Beads of sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

Christmas carols played over the mall speakers, more specifically Jingle Bells which they played three times in less than an hour. Enough, enough, enough. He was suffocating, unable to breathe. He felt too big for his own skin, he needed to escape.

Then he felt your hand at the small of his back, guiding him toward what looked like a furniture store. He followed blindly, his vision blurry and unfocused, and sat down when you gently pushed him down onto a sofa.

Bucky shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushion. A woman came up and asked if you needed help but you told her that everything was fine. The buzzing in his ears made the voices around him strangely soothing, as if he was underwater. Now that he was sitting down, he felt a lot better.  

You didn’t try to touch him, something he was very grateful for. He could feel your weight shift next to him and knowing you were there was enough. He focused on you –your heat, your voice, the smell of your shampoo- and his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he breathed out with a small smile, his head lolling to one side to look at you. “I ruined our shopping spree.”

The fear and panic had dissipated, leaving him cold, exhausted and craving skin to skin contact. He took your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were freezing cold.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I did.” A sad smile curved his lips, he needed to change the subject. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

You sank further into the sofa cushion sitting shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

“We celebrated so many different holidays,” you said. “Perks of growing up in a multicultural family. Christmas was wild though. One tree, five kids. That poor thing never stood a chance. Now I don’t really celebrate anything. December used to be so much fun, now it’s just not the same.”

“We should create our own holiday,” Bucky suggested, squeezing your hand.

“Aren’t you going to see your family?”

“Nah,” he replied with a yawn. “My sister is taking her kids somewhere warm, and my parents are traveling the country in their RV. You can invite your siblings if you want.”

“They’re not available.”

Bucky tried to decipher the expression on your face. Every time you talked about your siblings, you had a faraway look in your eyes, as though you were reliving a memory. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking but your face twisted into a painful grimace. Then suddenly it was gone.

“I want a tree.”

He watched you with a lazy smile. “I’ll get you a tree.”

You pulled him up to his feet and decided it was time to go home. Home. It still made Bucky weirdly warm inside when you called his apartment ‘home’. You crossed the mall, your arm looped through his as you walked, and took a cab to Brooklyn.

He almost fell asleep from the gentle rocking of the car moving through the streets of Manhattan. When he glanced at you, you were looking out your window watching the snow fall.

You’d been living together for almost two months now and Bucky couldn’t have picked a better roommate. He liked the way you sang in the shower, loud, cheerful and most definitely off-key. He liked that you had more pyjamas than every day clothes. He liked watching you paint from the living room, and it always made him laugh when you added weird things to his grocery list.

He could go to bed and sleep the whole night without waking up, feeling safer knowing someone else was there. Of course, not everything was perfect but it was close enough.

He woke up on the sofa a few hours later, still dressed and with a fluffy blanket thrown over him. The sun was setting, painting the sky with reds and oranges. He basked in the setting sun, a content smile on his face, before he sat up.

The TV was on, the volume low, and you were sitting cross-legged on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table going through a bunch of old photographs. Bucky looked around the room, taking in the new furniture and decor.

There was a comfortable armchair in front of the gas burning fireplace. Your book was resting on the seat of the armchair. You had also bought a lot of decorative pillows, some were pretty funny like the one that looked like a giant cookie.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Hey, you’re awake! I bought some picture frames. I thought it’d make this place look less like a high end furniture store.”

“I liked it better when you thought this apartment was amazing.”

You laughed. “I still do, but it’s a bit... soulless.” You tilted your head back, looking at him upside down. “Sorry.”

“Gotta call a spade a spade,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “All right, well, while you do that I’m going to start dinner.”

He pushed off the sofa but you caught his wrist before he could leave. “I’m already done. I’ve left some frames for you.”

“I already have lots of pictures upstairs.”

“I know, but no one ever goes upstairs,” you replied, letting go of his wrist. “And you’re not in any of the photos.”

Bucky’s eyes were drawn to the picture you were holding. It must have been taken on the day of your high school graduation, you were dressed in a cap and gown, smiling with your whole face. He’d never seen you smile like that. He recognized Peggy Carter right away, her hair was more silver-white than brown and there were deep wrinkles around her eyes.

Your mom wasn’t looking at the camera, she was scolding the young man who was giving you bunny ears. The man was grinning mischievously at the camera. Bucky couldn’t tell how old he was, he appeared to be either twenty or fifty.

There were two other women wearing sundresses, one had long brown hair, the other had twisted her hair into Bantu knots. A young man with dyed silver hair and dark roots was squatting in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest à la Backstreet Boys.

“You should frame this one,” he said, sitting on the floor next to you.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It makes me kinda sad.”

Bucky learned not to dwell on the past. It hadn’t been easy but it would have been impossible to heal without the support of his friends and family. Grief manifests itself in a number of ways, it’s raw and complex, and comes from your soul. 

Bucky had a deep love for his childhood, especially his college years, but while he would cherish this time forever, he had accepted that he was a different person. He wasn’t the same naïve, youthful man he used to be, and it wasn’t a bad thing.

But he also knew that some people live in the past. It makes them feel alive.

“Y’know,” he started, meeting your eyes with a smile. “My hair used to be pretty long. I think I still have some photos in a folder somewhere.”

You clasped your hands together in a silent prayer. “Bucky, I’m going to be honest with you,” you deadpanned. “I need to see those pictures. I need them now. It’s a matter of life and death.”

He rolled his eyes while he got to his feet. “You’re so dramatic. I’ll go get ‘em.”

Bucky took the stairs up to his office and came back a few minutes later with a laptop under his arm. He sat on the floor next to you and set the laptop on his lap.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, mimicking a Cheshire cat grin.

He sighed and tried to look stern but it was nearly impossible. You were too lovely, and he couldn’t help but smile. He opened up the laptop and glanced at you from the corner of his eye; you were practically vibrating.

He started going through the photos when he found one of himself at a party. He was in his early twenties, slumped in a chair, his eyes glassy and unfocused. In the next one he had been joined by two equally drunk women, and he was now roaring at the camera.

“Early twenties, two arms, and not a care in the world,” he said with a little sigh.

You leaned forward, your elbow resting on the coffee table. “Looks like you were having fun.”

“College was a lot of fun,” Bucky said, grinning to himself.

“What was your major?”

“English,” he replied. “I was a really good student, I could have chosen anything but there were more girls studying literature so I enrolled as an English major.”

“Wait!” You recoiled as if you had misheard him. “Did you really choose English because there were more girls?”

He made a funny grimace, and his nose scrunched up a bit as he mulled it over. “Yeah... my priorities were a bit mixed up. Hormones and all.”

You lowered your face into your hand and laughed. When you looked up at him, he was sporting his boyish grin and you shook your head at him.

In the next picture, he was clad in a black university graduation gown standing next to a blond man also dressed in a black gown. They were smiling, sunglasses perched on their nose.

“When I graduated, I had no idea what to do with a BA in English,” Bucky said after taking a long look at the photo. “The thing is, I never found my life’s calling. In high school I didn’t know what job I wanted to do, or what really motivated me, and to be honest I never really thought about it. I figured I’d find my passion in college but...” he trailed off with a shrug. “You’re lucky to have found your passion.”

“Is that why you want to help me?” you asked. “Because I found my calling and I wasn’t pursuing it.”

He tilted his head to one side, considering. “Yes, I guess that’s part of the reason why I want to help you.” He took a shuddering breath.

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one struggling to keep my head above water.” He pressed his index finger to the computer screen. “This is Steve, my oldest friend. He had just started working as a professional freelance photographer. I had nothing to do so I decided to help him build his portfolio. You’re an artist, I’m sure you know that a portfolio will make or break you.”

“It shows what you’ve accomplished, the skills you mastered,” you said, nodding. “Your potential employers will want to see your portfolio.”

“Exactly, and you have to show them your best work. In Steve’s case, it meant taking risks. No matter how talented you are, no one’s gonna pay you for a shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s gorgeous but it’s not rare.”

“So what did he do?”

“We decided to climb Mount Everest.” He mechanically rubbed his stump and your eyes followed his movement. “It might’ve been the dumbest idea we’ve ever had but it sort of made sense at the time. Steve needed a challenging project and I was trying to find my purpose. We trained for a year, put money aside and took a loan. We were young, we thought we were invincible.

“The thing is,” he continued, “Mount Everest is the most famous mountain in the world. It’s crowded and only half the climbers reach the summit. A lot of people die.” He took a small pause. “Sometimes they can’t remove their bodies and they become landmarks. Our Sherpa told us about this man, they call him Green Boots. He’s sort of curled up in a fetal position near what they call Green Boots’ cave. When you walk past him, it looks like he’s just sleeping and because it’s so cold out there he’s actually well-preserved.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Bucky let out a small, humourless laugh. “When I fell, I dislocated my arm and it pinched my axillary artery completely closed. It cut off circulation. That’s why they had to amputate. I was just lying there, too weak to call for help, watching people walk past me. They thought I was dead. And I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here and people will refer to me as Blue Jacket.’ Then Steve and the Sherpa found me, and Steve carried me on his back until they found a shelter. When the rescue team arrived, it was too late to save my arm.”

He went through the photos in silence and glared at the screen without really seeing it, his mind far away. On the screen, there was an endless stream of blurry smiles and blue eyes but he couldn’t look away. His thoughts cleared up when he felt the back of your knuckles along his cheek and jaw.

He unclenched his teeth, feeling the pain in his jaw. You brushed your fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. You mindlessly played with the curl on top of his head and raked your fingernails gently over his scalp. When you spoke, your voice was just a soft whisper.

“Come back to me.”

Bucky forced his eyes shut and swallowed past the lump in his throat, tears pooling on his lower lashes. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. After a moment, he felt his body beginning to relax.

“How do you do that?” he asked in a pleading voice, turning his head to look at you. “How do you quiet the noise in my head?”

The question caught you off guard but you recovered quickly. You took his arm and draped it over your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you said, snuggling into his side. “It’s your second panic attack today. Did I push you too hard?”

“No.” His response was immediate. “I don’t like winter. It’s freezing cold and it gets dark at three thirty. Not my favorite time of the year.”

“But this helps, right?” you asked, waving your hand back and forth in the space between you.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it helps a lot.”

“Good.” You snuggled a little closer.

“But since you’re hoarding my arm, you’re gonna have to go through the pictures yourself,” he added, grinning down at you.

“Sorry,” you laughed. You reached out and slid two fingers over the touchpad guiding the cursor over the arrow icon. “So where are those pictures of you with long hair, uh?”

He knew you were trying to distract him but still made him blush. Those photos were in a folder titled: recovery spring 2010. He gave you directions to find it and waited for your reaction, wondering if you would burst into laughter at the sight of him with long hair and a lot more weight on.

“Wow.”

Bucky turned his attention to the screen to see which one had caught your interest. It was a selfie Steve had taken one sunny afternoon after he had forced Bucky to go out with him and Sam. They were sitting outside drinking iced tea.

Steve’s smile was blinding. He was wearing that stupid baseball cap he loved so much. Bucky sat hunched over in his seat behind Steve, his smile small but genuine. It was the kind of smile that said ‘my friends forced me to join them but I’m secretly glad they did’. Sam was leaning sideways against Bucky, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“You look like a completely different person,” you said. “So... strong.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offense. “How dare you? I’m still strong.” He removed his arm from behind your shoulders and raised it to flex his biceps. “Look at that!”

With a roll of your eyes, you let your hand roam over his muscular arm slightly squeezing his biceps. “Okay, I’m impressed.”

“Ah! Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Now, c’mon, s’ time to eat.”

Bucky got to his feet and extended his hand to help you up. You trailed behind him as you walked toward the kitchen. “I bet Steve could rip a log in half with his bare hands.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Where is he?”

“Hard to say. He works for National Geographic now. I think he’s supposed to be in Siberia.”

You spent the next few days like tourists. You showed Bucky your favourite museums, stayed way too long in front of several artworks but he never complained. Bucky took you to the movies. You sat together in the dark for several hours watching foreign films, and you only fell asleep once. Then the two of you would walk around Manhattan speaking in a made-up language and pretending to be characters in a movie.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree. A little voice in the back of his head kept repeating ‘enjoy it while it lasts’ but he chose to ignore it.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Bucky said, gesturing at the tree in the living room. “She went to the store to buy some ornaments.”

He handed Sam a bottle of beer which he took with a smile before tipping it to his lips for a long drink. Bucky hit his beer bottle on the counter to uncap it and followed Sam into the living room.

“She’s excited, uh,” Sam said with a grin. “You guys are spending Christmas together?”

“Liss,” Bucky replied after taking a swig of beer. “We’re celebrating Liss this year.”

“’The hell is that?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s an old word. It means comfort, happiness.” A respite from pain. “We decided to make our own holiday. We’re going to spend two days in our fanciest loungewear, eating junk food and playing board games.”

“Cute,” Sam drawled out. “When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t say that.” Bucky glared at him. “Why do you always do that? I finally feel at peace with myself. I’m happy, I’m ready to take on new challenges. Why do you always have to make fun of me?”

Sam’s eyes widened at this. “Woah, I’m joking. It’s what we do. You tease me, I tease you. C’mon, I know things have been hard for you. I’m proud of you,” he rushed to say, afraid he might have hurt his friend’s feelings, but then he caught Bucky’s barely concealed smirk behind his beer bottle. “You’re messing with me.”

“Of course, man. Can you say ‘I’m proud of you’ again? Wanna make it my ringtone.”

“Screw you.” They sipped their beer in silence, each deep in thought. “But you like her, right?”

Bucky twirled the neck of the bottle between two fingers. “I do, she’s nice.”

Sam shook his head like he was frustrated with the answer “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not in love with her, Sam.”

“I never said anything about being in love.” He was silent for a moment before he added, “Beside there’s an entire world between like and love.”

Bucky caught a glimpse of hurt and fear in the depths of Sam’s eyes. He reminded him of Steve: strong yet vulnerable, generous and righteous. Bucky had a feeling Sam wasn’t talking about you.

“Is this about Natasha?”

Sam hung his head and stared at the beer bottle he rolled between his hands. “Sometimes I feel like it was inevitable. These sugar daddy relationships are complicated; at first it’s fun and easy, we both get what we want.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “And then it changes, so fast you barely see it coming, and it becomes the only thing you look forward to.” He took another swig of beer.

“These few hours with her mean more to me than anything else in this goddamn world. But it’s not real, none of this is real.”

“How do you know it’s not real?” Bucky asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“I pay her.” Sam gave him a sad smile. “She spends time with me because I pay her. Sex wasn’t part of our deal but it came naturally. It’s going to end, one way or another. And If my time with her is limited, why make things complicated, y’see?”

An uneasy feeling gnawed at Bucky’s stomach, taunting him, trying to make him see something he wasn’t ready to see yet. “What if she feels the same way ‘bout you?”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “To know that I’d have to talk to her, and I’d rather not take my chances. I’m happy with the way things are right now. It hurts, but I’m okay.” He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “You gotta be careful, Bucky. I see the way you look at your angel. You’re skating on thin fucking ice.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Like, love,” Sam said, weighing the two words. “And everything in between.”

They mulled over Sam’s words while they finished their beer. A million thoughts raged through Bucky’s head, circling around like wasps, buzzing and annoying. He was relieved when he heard the front door open.

“Italian leather loafers, mmh is Sam here?” you called out from the kitchen where you set your shopping bag down on the table before you joined them in the living room. “Hey guys! What’s the matter? You both look like someone kicked your puppy-OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THAT TREE!”

While you ran across the living room, Sam cast Bucky a look. The message was clear; be careful. They got to their feet and acted like nothing happened. Sam put on his coat and gave you a quick hug before he left.

Bucky was silent while you were decorating the tree. He let you decide where you wanted to put the tinsel and baubles. He just sat there with a vacant look in his eyes, handing baubles. A smile curled his lips when you cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone. He looked up at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Just old and moody.”

You laughed. “Come here, help me with this. It’s actually super boring when no one’s fighting for the baubles.”

“Oh, you wanna fight, angel,” he said with a smirk while he played with a tinsel garland. “Ok, let’s fight.”

You took a step back. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Too late!”

You shrieked when he launched himself at you. He wrapped the tinsel garland around you, loosely pinning your arms to your sides. You laughed so hard your eyes watered and your shoulders shook. He used it to his advantage and looped two baubles over your ears like giant earrings.

Still laughing, you tugged one of your hands free and threw a handful of tinsel all over Bucky before you ran away. He chased you around the living room, using one of the fairy lights as a lasso.  

Soon, the living room was a giant mess. There was more tinsel in Bucky’s hair than on the tree, and you had managed to wrap the fairy lights around his body. You look pretty ridiculous with your giant earrings and dishevelled hair.

You and Bucky collapsed on the floor, out of breath and euphoric. The sun was starting to set behind the skyscrapers casting a warm golden glow over the room. You turned on the fairy lights and burst out laughing when Bucky sparkled like a tree.

He found his phone on the sofa and handed it to you. You opened up the camera app and nestled closer to him. The first photo was blurry because you couldn’t stop laughing. Bucky thought the second photo was nice but you didn’t like it.

“My smile is too wild,” you said.

“You look beautiful,” he argued. “I look like a Christmas tree.”

Bucky felt a pleasant stir in his belly when you placed your head on his shoulder. Be careful. He could practically hear Sam’s voice in his head. His chest was hurting. It wasn’t unpleasant, just peculiar and unexpected. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Bucky! You have to open your eyes,” you scolded him after looking at the picture, unaware of his inner turmoil.

He wasn’t sure he could; tears were welling up in his eyes. He was terrified of his feelings for you, but his body was screaming at him to stop burying his head in the sand. He didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes, he didn’t want to alarm you, because the truth was, he hadn’t been careful.

“Can’t. I’m comfy,” he replied, masking his true feelings behind a joke.

“Open them or I’ll tickle you.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, no need to use force.”

He soldiered on and opened his eyes, smiling at the camera. He liked you, and he promised himself he would never tell you. His feelings didn’t matter, it wasn’t part of your deal.

Part 7