#explore sexily

[jojobeejpg]

persona OC revamp!!

it’s been a while since my last redesign, and i thought it was time for a change.

yes, i am now slutty indiana jones.

[blondiest]

Where is your gun kink fic?

baby that does not exist yet it's just an inevitability i am hurtling towards on account of the vibes of the ship i write for

[pyreo]

handful more dunmeshi thoughts:

I like how their ability to cook is cumulative. they still have stock or leftovers from previous episodes making each meal more varied or better balanced, it honestly feels super enriching having solid evidence that their situation improves the more they experiment.

I like that the main party are immedaitely shown to be veterans of exploring this dungeon, and were fully expecting to comfortably handle the final boss. They're familiar with the layout and overall logic of the place, and how to co-exist as a diverse group.

I like that it's not horny. I mean yeah there's the dwarven upskirts but that just feels like realism. I know there's some kind of yuri bathroom thing but we've been told since episode one that is based on deep-seated emotions. what I mean is nobody is drawn sexily, nobody is getting gratuitous fanservice for no reason, nobody is lusting over other characters. there were even sirens and the opportunity was not taken to draw them like sexy temptresses. All things considered, they are in a work environment. I enjoy this, everybody has more important things to do.

It's based on dungeons and dragons/roguelikes/RPGs obviously, but in a loose method that doesn't get hung up on itself. Also the problems they solve are always realistic/a matter of pragmatism or efficiency rather than having to be more powerful than something else. solutions are based on critical thinking (good example - making a flail out of a vial of holy water because ghosts pass through the glass and get smacked by the water)

An extention of that, it's fun how much logistics and realism form the basis of their problems. Nothing is handwaved. The central dilemma is staying fed and that is a challenge. They can't cross a hall of water in a boat, because two of them wear heavy armour, and would sink. They do not even leave sightlines of each other without informing someone else where they're going, so the alarm will be raised if they don't come back. They're all capable in their own ways and this directly leads to solutions requiring group effort.

also look at these marcilles

[slutofpsh]

moth to a flame | psh.

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: like a moth to a flame, you kept coming back to park sunghoon even though his flames can burn you.

wc: 3k

warnings: smut, mention of cheating. dni.

slutofpsh 2024 © all rights reserved.

the continuous slapping of your skins are making a sound so erotic adding to the heat you are feeling with your bodies linked together. the bed squeaked while your hand gripped hardly over the sheets. your eyes shutting tightly because of too much pleasure that sunghoon is making you feel at the moment.

“stay fucking still, pretty.” sunghoon grunts.

"oh my-" you couldn't even finish your sentence as your body starts convulsing after reaching your second orgasm. your mouth slightly hanging open, doesn’t even give a fuck if there's drool coming out. mind too clouded over pleasure as he hit it from the back deliciously.

sunghoon groaned rutting his cock even deeper to your hole as he try to catch up on you. he smirks then bit his lower lip, canine showing then slap your butt once. the view of it jiggling as he hardly thrust turns him even more. he leaned down placing a wet kiss at your shoulder before turning you around, making you lay on your back this time.

your eyes met while you're both catching breaths and the view of him staring down at you, eyes filled with so much lust, just makes your hole twitch in anticipation.

you shake your head when he shamelessly licked his hand before starting to give slow strokes to his dick, aligning it to your entrance once again. hole so wet with your cum mixed together. it felt so dirty, but for some reasons, you like it. you like it so much.

"i c-can't anymore." you whined and hand stretches in attempt to push his hand away. it was no use because he easily shoved it away, eyeing you fiercely for trying to stop him from having his sweet pleasure.

“one more, baby." he says using his husky voice and easily slides in you again, hands gripping your hips so hard that his big veiny hands will surely leave prints.

the sensation of being filled by his thick cock makes your cunt excited, squeezing and suffocating it.

"just one more..." he mumbled, like as if trying to remind himself that you two needs a break too. he follows it with a low grunt as he started to thrust harder and faster again.

you moaned, starting to feel all your energy draining out of you. feeling too much from being overstimulated and exhaustion already kicking in. you two had been at it for hours already and sunghoon's stamina is just crazy. you could never get into his level, but there’s no way to tell him off because damn, does it feels so damn good. so damn good. nothing can ever beat this feeling.

his lips searches for yours and started kissing you messily. his hand gripping tightly over your jaw making you stay still as he devoured your lips. not giving you any chance to pull away, if you even plan on doing so. he bit your lower lip, making a moan errupt softly from it.

“ugh..” lips falls open giving him a clear entrance for his tongue. he didn’t waste any time and let his explores yours, tongues dancing with each other.

sunghoon's a good kisser, very good even. with the lips so perfect it would be such a waste not to put it in good use. your makeout sessions is always great.

but whenever he's so drunk with lust his kisses became so wet and dirty, just how you both love it.

"hmmp-" moan came out muffled because of his lips still attached to yours. a knott started to form in your stomach when he kept hitting the right spots, a sign for yet another delicious orgasm.

“r-right there, hoon! ughn,” you whimpers at the feeling of exploding inside you. “so deep, so deep. fuck.”

he slightly pulls away from your face to chuckle sexily near your ears, nibbling it. "i know baby. hold on," he whispers, and gave your cheek a sweet peck.

his thick brows draws near to each other as he focused to a stable pace that made it even more hard for you to contain your moans. you are starting to see stars from weariness and too much pleasure.

sunghoon just can't stop himself. if you look this hot under him how can he ever refrain himself from burying his cock to your cunt every damn time. you are just so perfect for him, just for him.

"f-fuck, you feel so tight around me... so fucking tight." he growled lowly, one of his hand reaches over your breast fondling it before giving it a suck.

"i'm so c-close, hoon." your grip to his arm tightens.

he gave your sensitive bud one more kiss before he raises his head to look at your face. seeing your face so aroused and so close from passing out just makes him lose his mind. you look so pretty.

"cum with me, baby." and with his command you released. he didn't stopped just yet and leans down to connect his lips with yours.

this time his kisses are slow and more affectionate as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you, painting your insides with his hot cum.

he fell beside you and you're both a panting mess after that. the room fell silent and eye lids are starting to feel heavy, but you are fighting it. this isn’t the right time to pass out here, inside his room. regardless of that thought, none of you said a thing or moved. just trying to go back to your senses after a very intimate and hard fuck.

a phone ringing brought you into your right head space. hearing that it was your ringtone, you pushed yourself up from his bed and searched for your phone in an instant. the space between your thighs hurts a little, but you give it no mind and focused on finding your damn phone.

"jay!" you cleared your throat as you try to sound normal. it felt strained from all the screaming and because of being choked in bed multiple times by sunghoon.

sunghoon sat up from laying down and you can see from your peripheral that he's watching you closely. it made you feel conscious and intimidated, specially now that you aren't fucking him and yet still fully naked. he was always the type of person who makes people feel conscious of themselves. maybe because of his godly visuals or basically everything about him.

you used your shoulder to hold your phone by your ears while gathering your scattered clothes, dressing up in a hurry.

"i just finished my shift, love. where are you? let's meet up and have late dinner." your boyfriend sounded so excited from the other line.

yes, it sounded that fucked up. jay is your boyfriend and you are in bed with someone else. you’re a terrible person.

a string of guilt came into you after hearing his sweet voice. "o-okay, sure! just pick me up at the store near my apartment."

sunghoon stood up and grabbed his sweatpants to wear it. his eyes never left you, he was just silently watching. fighting the urge to talk and ruin something precious for you. he stared with dead eyes, a bitter feeling poisining his whole system.

"alright, i love you too." and ended the call before starting to get your stuff.

he scoffed and put his hand inside his pocket.

"what do you think will my brother feel if he knew you were screaming my name moments before he called you?" he asks taunting.

your jaw clenched and hand hang from getting your coat. it was knife straight towards your chest. and just by thinking about that thought already makes you tremble in fear. you are very much guilty and you know what you've been doing is unforgivable. having him say that was like a slap on your face.

it was wrong to sleep with another men other than your boyfriend, and its even worst that he was his brother. you know this is bad. like fucked up very bad, and yet you just can’t stop yourself from going to sunghoon. you can’t stop falling for those stares and his hot touch. no matter how hard you try to stay away from him, you always go back.

like a moth to a flame, he was forbidden for you. because he’s trouble and he’s bad for you. but just like a moth, you didn’t care. you wanted his fire and so you are both burning, sinfully letting yourselves enjoy the flame you’re never should have shared.

slowly, you faced him and his placid expression was so far from how he looks at you in bed. there was no emotion or anything. just blank.

"hoon, please..." he clicked his tongue at the side of his cheeks before smirking. hearing you beg in bed is one thing, hearing you beg outside of it is another. both have clear effects on him, tho. its driving him out of his mind.

"we already talked about this. we agreed on just casual fucks—" your words hang when he took a step closer to you, making your bodies almost touch. the way your heart reacted with his action like he’s the ownder of it is just crazy.

“you know that's not the case anymore. we both know something else is going on here.”

you teared your gaze away from him, couldn't stand staring at his eyes. it always has its way on you. the way it stares at you just pushed into some kind of trance, like as if you are under his spell.

"i'm leaving." you mumbled and grabbed your bag, but was abruptly stopped when he took a hold of you.

"don't go." his tone almost made you give in, but you know it will just bury you two into the sin that already eating you both alive.

you licked your lips and slowly looked at him. sunghoon clenches his jaw as he stares at your teary eyes. its odd. he never felt this way before. countless girls cried in front of him, but not once did he felt like he wanted to protect them. like he wanted be submit and just lets them have what they want. just you. only you can make him feel like this.

“i l-love your brother...”

stabbed. you are stabbing him straight to his heart, but why are you the one hurting? why does your heart ache for sunghoon? it was illegal enough to sleep with him and it will be even horrible to have feelings for him.

“you do now, huh?” he taunts and tilts his head to the side. the corner of his lips lifts up, eyes not breaking eye contact.

“so what’s this?” he asks, “if you love him why do you keep coming back to me? craving more of me? is that what you call love?” a tear left your eyes when he said those words.

“ahh,” he sighs and acts as if he just put every pieces together. “you love him but the sex is just so boring that’s why you go to me everytime he cannot satisfy you.”

you shoved his hold off of you and shoot him glares. guilty. but you will never let him win like this. jay’s the perfect boyfriend. sweet, thoughtful, loving. everything you wish for a guy to be in a relationship with, he have it. but he seems so sweet and soft towards you that sex is not that thrilling. sunghoon was right. its a little boring. or maybe because you’re just into something else and so afraid to open it with him.

sunghoon’s the complete opposite of his brother. he’s arrogant, a notorious playboy, he’s the type of guy who just a go with the flow, mischievous and always full of himself. he fucks really hard and good too. it slowly became your addiction. the one time mistake was followed by another. and then another. and another. until you had lost count of them.

“what y/n? my sweet brother can’t satisfy you so you come running to me like a slut for my dick—”

“park sunghoon!” the fact that he’s saying all these things just makes you feel even bad. you know he’s a jerk, but it seems like his attitude became worst.

he scoffed with an unamused grin. “what? i’m just telling the truth.” he tilts his head over to the side, smirk growing wider to mask his real emotions.

“he’s so pathetic and boring to the point that he cannot even satisfy his own girlfriend.”

“enough!” you yelled at him.

“you can’t keep this forever.”

“that’s why i’m ending whatever this is right now.” you looked straight to his eyes.

“no you’re not.” his gaze burned at you, jaw clenches as he grabs your arm firmly.

sunghoon wanted to stop himself from saying or doing anything stupid. he isn’t someone who let his emotions control him. when it comes to this game, he’s an expert. he’s never the one to beg or stop someone from cutting whatever this is. he usually just shrugs it off then move to another one.

so why the fuck is he holding you so tight? why does his heart aches so much just by hearing those words from you?

he wanted to convince himself that its his pride and ego that you’re stepping into. that he just really hates losing to his brother. but he knew pretty well its his goddamn heart you are crushing and he’s letting you. sunghoon gave you his heart and doesn’t even care if you stab it until you are satisfied.

you can ruin him. you can ruin everything in him, if that’s how he gets to keep you.

“s-sunghoon,” you resist from his hold which is useless as he was like a stone. its funny how you think you can even break free from him.

he shook his head firmly, “you are not leaving me. no.”

your heart aches and it took everything in you to pull your walls up. the wall you built to barricade your heart to keep it from beating for him.

“i’m so sorry.” you whispered, lips shaking. the words processed inside your mind, but it was too hard for you to say it out loud.

you know it will hurt him and that will probably end whatever this is. it will hurt you as much as it will hurt sunghoon. but you know this is what’s right and you should’ve done that long time ago. before you two gets too attached.

“i love him.”

your words cracks his heart. no, he was already broken. and now that you made that choice, shatters it. his hold from you loosen and it took everything in you to leave him. this is your chance to make things right.

you’re not really yourself while you went back to your apartment to shower and freshen up a bit. sunghoon’s scent are stuck on you, like an alpha male claiming his omega. you shoved him away from your thoughts and just focused on getting ready.

“hi,” you greeted jay with a kiss on his lips after you arrive the restaurant.

he agreed on just waiting for you here since you informed him that you’ll take a while to get ready. this is one of your favorite place to eat and jay always gets you two a reservation whenever you plan to have a date.

“you look tired, love. everything okay?” his worried eyes carefully scan you and strings of guilt once again starts to suffocate you.

a small smile is all you can give him, “just tired from work.” you lied and eyes dropped at the menu placed in front of you.

“did you order already?” you ask trying to switch the topic.

he gently reach for your hand and placed a soft kiss on it, “not yet.” then smiles warmly. his eyes still look worried for you so you tried to assure him that you’re fine.

“let’s order then?” and was about to raise your hand, but he stopped you.

“let’s wait for a few minutes.” then he glanced at his phone.

your brows furrowed, “why?”

he lifts his head and innocent eyes stares right at you, “oh, sunghoon’s around town so he told me he wants to dine with us.”

you can feel your heart thumping hard and ears slowly muffling. shivers and cold sweats runs through your spine.

“w-what?”

he ignored the look on your face and doesn’t take it as a big deal. his eyes shifted towards the entrance and his eyes brightens at the sight of his own brother, walking inside.

“hoon!” he even raised his hand to catch his attention.

sunghoon smirks as he nods his head before starting walking towards your table. you didn’t move and just sat there, uncomfortably. he grins inwardly, watching how nervous you are.

“hi y/n.” he greets meaningfully before sitting at the chair across of you.

you cleared your throat and tries to smile at the man in front of you. just by the look on his face, it was visible that he’s enjoying this very much. he enjoys seeing you so tense.

“hi.” you shortly respond.

sunghoon chuckles before he looks at his brother to greet him with a wide grin.

“it’s good to see you man.” your boyfriend says, very delighted to have a meal with his brother after a long time.

“yeah. same here.”

“you said you want to tell me something?” jay brings up that got you stoned at your position. you hitch your breath as you glance at sunghoon.

jay’s arm rested at the back of your chair and his hand casually caress your arm. it caught sunghoon’s attention and his grin fell for a short period of time. he managed to pull it back and with a clenched teeth he tries to smile.

“later. first, let’s share a meal, shall we?” and he arches his brow sexily before glancing back at you, his words giving a double meaning.

tag-list:

@jeoncarla008 @hongshuaknow

[missqhughes]

could you do number 12 from the kiss prompt list w/ Luke pls and thank you 🫶🏻🤞🏻

little first time with luke moment that i hope you love <3 lowkey got so carried away but i really enjoy this one

-

it all was happening almost too fast.

you were lazily making out with luke on the couch, your legs straddled over him as his hands explored your body. you don’t know where things picked up, but luke stood the two of you up, legs wrapping around his waist and lips not daring to unhook as he took you to the bedroom.

now, your shirt was off, luke’s warm lips kissing over your body as you instinctively arched into his touch. his hands toyed with the waistband of your sweats, fingertips hooking on the edge of the soft material when you became hyper aware of what was about to happen.

you inhale deeply, luke continuing the trail of his lips up your body, his mouth claiming the spot uncovered by your bra, nipping at the skin lightly.

your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, the feeling of him dangerously close to feeling your naked chest making nerves shoot through your entire body. you place a hand through his soft curls, him still lost in your chest,

“luke,” you breathe out, and immediately stops, raising his head and shifting his eyes to meet yours, concern written on his face,

“what? what’s wrong? did i go to far? i’m so sorry i-”

“-no. you did nothing wrong, lu. it’s just…” you trail off, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you contemplate your next words. he knows you haven’t had sex before, that wasn’t a surprise to him, but he always chalked it up to you just wanting to wait for someone, not just the utter spiral it sent you into just thinking about it.

“it’s just what baby?” he cooed,

“i’m just so nervous. what if you don’t like what you see? what if i’m bad at it? what if i-” luke cuts you off with a snort, sending a wave of worry through your veins, but his laughs are only accompanied with a loving touch on your face,

“well first of all, i already love what i see, can’t imagine you’d be bad at it, and you’re with me so there’s nothing to worry about,” he says gently, dipping down to replace his caressing thumb with a kiss on your cheek.

“but if you don’t want to, we won’t. you just gotta tell me baby, okay?”

he was right, luke himself didn’t make you worry, and he definitely wasn’t going to judge you. he was so patient, and him letting you decide made you all the more ready, even if you were nervous.

“i want to, lu. i want you.”

he smiles, raising his body off of you to take his own shirt from his body, leaning back down, the feeling of his warm body radiating onto your own,

“then just keep laying down love, and let me do you how you deserve it."

his words made you shudder, the rasp of his voice bringing little knots in your stomach. you nod, luke’s hands on either side of you as he claims your lips once more. he presses his body into you, reassurance seeping from his lips to yours.

he ends the contact, and you frown as he pulls away, his sly hands making up for it by lightly holding the top of your sweatpants, peeling them down your legs.

as soon as they hit the floor, his eyes were glued to your body; underwear and bra so sexily but innocently matching, a blush tinted on your cheeks, desire welling up between your legs.

luke’s lips part slightly, his lips dancing across your partially open legs. he finds the edge of your panties, and you both glance to one another at the same time,

“can i?”

“yes,” you breathe out, your heartbeat so elevated it almost rings in your ears as luke removes your underwear, tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he’s met with your wet folds.

“i’ll be gentle, i promise.”

you pull your legs further apart for him, his large hands latching on to the bottom of your thighs, lips delivering a sweet kiss to your clit that makes you cry out.

“too much?”

“n-no, it’s perfect, keep going,”

his kisses turn more sloppy, mouth moving down to collect your slick on his tongue, groaning as he makes out with your pussy. your hand goes down to grip his curls, the pull causing his groans to deepen, the vibrations making your eyes roll.

luke is instantly addicted to the taste of you on his lips, savoring every bit of wetness that collects on his tongue, eyes closed as he continued to devour you in his almost drunken state. he sucks the top of your sensitive nub, your hips bucking into his face with a guttural moan.

his tongue is soft against your folds, the gentle sucking of your clit to not be too rough with you is somehow just the thing that brings you closer to the edge.

“luke,” you breathe out, a fistful of his soft brown curls hooked between your fingers, but when he can feel you pushing your hips closer into his face, he stops, making you whine from the loss of his mouth.

the heat between your legs stays as you look at him, pupils enlarged, his lips and chin coated in your slick. “why… why did you stop?” you pant,

“as good as you taste, i really want to make you cum when i fuck you,”

you give him a nod of approval, and he’s standing himself up, peeling off his shirt and shorts, his eyes glancing down at your bra then back at your eyes signaling you to do the same. you get his message loud and clear, swiftly unhooking your bra, your chest bare and luke’s eyes drowning in desire.

his lips go back to claim your skin, his mouth moving to your bud, moaning as his tongue swirls and he releases it with a light tug of his teeth.

“you’re perfect,” luke rasps, precum creating a small wet spot in his boxers. he lowers them, revealing his aching cock as he aligns himself with your core.

“ready?”

“i’m ready,”

he pushes in slow, hissing as tip explores you, gently pushing in back and forth until he’s completely inside of you. luke groans, fighting against is urges and keeping his pace slow, the burn inside you gradually morphing into pleasure, whimpering at just how much you love the feeling of being filled by his dick.

it doesn’t take long for you to get needy for more, not quite content with his slow and soft pace,

“faster, luke,”

he listens, his thrusts picking up, earning moans from the both of you,

“fuck, harder.” luke’s jaw clenches, grabbing your legs to wrap around his waist as he pounds into you roughly, per your request.

you cry out, arms holding on to his shoulder’s for support, tits bouncing with each powerful thrust he pulls into you. he hasn’t been fucking you for long, but feeling how tight your pussy wraps around him makes it hard to last long, the feeling that he’s about to make a mess inside you closer than he’s anticipated.

“you feel so good, not gonna last,” luke is breathless, lost in his rhythm and twitching inside of you, his dick hitting every spot it needs to, matching you to the rise of your own orgasm.

you feel tight at your stomach, the pleasure building deeper and deeper, “i’m close, i’m close!”

he definitely wants to make sure you cum first, moving his thumb up to draw circles on your clit, echoing moans vibrating through you, feeling yourself release warmth all over him.

you look down, his dick still going whilst coated in your creamy juices, sloppy and sure of his own high. just as he releases, brings your lips to his, mouth moving gently against yours, groaning into you as he paints your walls with his cum.

he pulls himself out, both of you covered in your messes. he breaks away, but close enough for his breath to still intertwine with yours. your breathing relaxes, luke moving the messy hairs away from your face.

“how was that for your first time?” he says, crooked smile and loving eyes admiring you,

“really, really good,” you smile “thank you, luke.”

“no, thank you pretty girl, anytime. seriously, anytime,” he winks. you giggle, pulling him flush against your body, his arms swiftly picking you up to bring you into the bathroom for some much needed aftercare.

[breezybangtanbebe]

Rain Rain Rain..You cant fake it : JJK 💋

Tags: JungkookXFemaleReader, raw car sex in the rain, bossy handsy Jungkook, freaky eager reader🥴😌

(Photo is totally AI, I take no credit for it.)

1.7k words

His sweat tasted like honey on your tongue and it mixed with the flavor of the rain that scored his skin on your mad dash across the empty parking lot.

It came out of nowhere.

Well, thats what you would say considering you rarely checked the weather app. Your skimpy outfit being a clear indicator.

Jungkook gave up on warning you ages ago because you never listened. The only times when you did were at times like now, when he demanded that you straddled him the back seat of his Benz.

Your little skirt rides up your thighs and exposed the roundness of your cheeks to everyone if they could be seen through the misty windshield. Luckily for you, no one would be stopping to check in on a parked car at the vacant rest stop off the highway. Not on a dark rainy night like this.

Jungkook groans as your lips latch just under his jaw, suckling one of his many weak spots. He squirmed beneath you, panting in need when your teeth grazed his skin. As you worked on branding him, his hands spread over the expanses of your plump ass cheeks. He squeezes them greedily and grinds you over his lap.

The friction is delicious against your paper thin panties, and you moan against his throat when your clit swelled. You pull away from Jungkook’s throat with wet lips, only from him to yank you back into him by the back of your neck.

"Take them off.." his lips command over yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth seamlessly. You sighed contently at the taste of him as you lifted your ass to peal your panties from your wet pussy.

Your skin was slick from the rain but deeper between your thighs, theres a moisture there that couldnt be blamed on the weather alone. Jungkook explored it with his fingers, his large hand curling under your ass to stroke your entrance. All the while he drowns out your breathy whines with his tongue, kissing you drunkenly as he played with your pussy.

You could feel just how ready he was beneath you, the curve of his erection bumping against your heat as you ground against him.

“Pull it out..Fuck me baby.." he says into your mouth and waste no time in reaching under his waistband.

His dick springs from his sweats and its as if he'd been allowed to breathe after holding it the way he exhales in relief. His swollen tip shined in the muted light that cut through the rain speckled glass, pre-cum leaking shamelessly from the hole.

You stared at it with lustful eyes and Jungkook smiled sexily with pride before pulling you in for another open mouth kiss.

He held you at your hips to lift you and your fingers dug into the leather upholstery for support as you lowered herself onto his length, both of you moaning in harmony as you sink onto him.

Jungkook's teeth dig into his lip as he buried himself as deep as your body would allow, spearing you hard against your sensitive cervix.

"Fuck.." you cried out, placing a hand on the roof of the car as your eyes drop to watch your pussy spread around Jungkook's girth.

Your clit bulged and begged to be touched as you rode him and Jungkook reads your body like a book. One of the hands that held your waist rushes to his mouth where his wet tongue waited for his thumb to press against it.

He uses it to rub messy circles over your sensitive button, causing a shock wave of sensation to shake your body.

“Oh fuck yesss…” you whimper, bouncing more frantically on Jungkook’s hardening dick.

You bears down on him hard and Jungkook takes advantage by rutting his hips upward, pinning you to the seat behind you with his other hand secured at your throat.

“Right fucking there..” he grits, tightening his grip on your airway as he fucked into you faster.

The messy wetness crescendos as Jungkook hit your spot over and over, your release drenching his lap and everything below him. Your voice breaks the moment your reach your peak, tapering off to a mumble of praises and his name.

“There you go..thats it..” Jungkook bites his lip as he guided your hips over his length, coaxing out every last bit of your high and allowing you to ride it out.

"Yes..There you go..thats it baby....shit.." he repeats, shuddering as his dick thumped inside of you. He hadn’t cum just yet, but he was close. It wouldnt take much either and he knew it.

Pulling out, Jungkook taps the side of your face gently to get your attention.

"C'mere...turn around."

Following his lead, you dazedly move your body to slot it between the front two seats. Your tummy rests on the middle console and Jungkook scoots over to the center backseat, his hands on your hips.

Before either of you could get cold from being apart, Jungkook re-enters you from behind.

He immediately begins to snap into you fast and hard with zero regard for how sensitive you were. Not that you cared since you met him thrust for thrust, bouncing back against him with a chorus of unbridled moans.

“Oh God…yes yes yes…Jungkook!” You sobbed, already feeling as if you were about to explode all over him again.

This position was always the killer.

Jungkook’s damp fringe swayed in spikes as he watched his dick disappear and reappear inside you, complimented by the way the your ass bounced and jiggled with every blow.

This was it. Thats all it would take for him to lose himself.

"Gonna cum..fuck Im gonna..." Jungkook rasps, his brows crinkling the closer he hurdled himself over the edge.

A second later, Jungkook pulls you back and buries his dick deep inside of your pussy before pulling out at the last possible second. Ropes of hot cum splattered all over your weeping hole and ass cheeks, his veiny tattooed hand jerking it fast to ensure he didnt waste a drop.

With something similar in mind, your thoughtlessly reach under your belly to catch his dripping nut that mixed woth your cum as it ran down your thighs, scooping a generous amount from your skin to taste.

Jungkook watched you with parted lips, his pulsing and sensitive dick still in hand as you used your fingers to clean yourself up. You toss him a naughty look over your shoulder, smiling evilly as you ran your tongue between your wet fingers.

"Youre fucking filthy..." he chuckles and you giggle around your cum coated digits.

"You love it." You exhale before sucking your fingers clean. Jungkook shakes his head, still in awe of you as he moved.

"Mmmh.." he hums as he sat back to pull his shirt over his head, most likely to use as a cum rag to finish cleaning you both up.

[tremendouscreationperson]

I've been thinking about this for a solid year now.

"Bucky," you giggled as he tossed you onto the bed. "I'll never be able to face Sam again!"

Bucky and Natasha had come home days late from a mission. It had taken a lot out of him but the information he smuggled back was excellent. You were trying to a) paint a larger picture and b) devise a new plan of attack when he burst through the doors.

You smiled widely, scribbling down the end of your sentence. "Hiya, Buck!"

"You alright Barnes?" Sam didn't need to raise his head to know who it was stalking over. Accustomed to the footsteps.

"I forgot something." He told Sam, one hand meeting the back of your chair and the other the base of the seat between your legs. In one swift motion he lifted the chair and turned.

"You need that specific chair, huh?" Sam met your wide gaze and ajar mouth over Bucky's shoulder.

"My favourite chair in this whole place." Was spoken as he exited the room.

"Who cares?" He chuckled, crawling over you. His eyes were warm and playful. "I missed you."

"Well, we now have an extra chair." Your laugh was cut off with his lips, Bucky bent his head to taste you. It had been far too long, he was never going on a mission again.

Bucky's hands trailed up and down your body, causing you to twitch and shiver but you never once broke the kiss. You wouldn't dare, you'd missed him far too much to.

"Mm." Bucky moaned as he parted from you. "I'm going to need you to say it."

You groaned - non sexily, very non sexily - and frowned. He didn't need you to say this. You loved him and trusted him. You would do anything for this man. "I don't think it's still a necessity, baby."

He didn't let up, of course he didn't. He couldn't. Not even if you ran your hands through his hair and peppered his cheeks with kisses, which you did. Not even if you told him a thousand times, which you had, he would still need it again. He needed you to be sure. To know you could say no. "Y/N."

You let out a breath that definitely wasn't a sigh before reciting, "I, Y/N L/N, do very much want to sleep with you and will tell you, Bucky Barnes, if I want you to stop. I would also like to reiterate that I will never ask you to stop and that you could ask anything of me and I'd happily give it."

Bucky's features relaxed, the lines against his eyes ceased and his lips eased into a gentle smile. "I love you."

"I love you and please, please, I don't think there's a possibility where I'd tell you no. I want you to know that. If you want to explore anything new that's completely fine. I'll never ask you to stop."

~~

"Bucky?" You whispered into the darkness.

This was all wrong.

You weren't even meant to be here. You weren't a field agent!

How had you got caught up in this?!

You tiptoed through the pitch black, trying to not make a sound when the lights suddenly flickered on and you were met with the harsh white corridor. The tiles were so white seemed to glow, forcing your eyes shut.

Blearily blinking against the assault your eyes were fighting, you saw a silhouette. You forced your eyes to observe it and relief flooded through your being. It was your love.

"Bucky!" You grinned, jogging over to him, only to falter when he didn't react in kind.

He stayed statue still, his dark eyes piercing into your soul. There was no grin, no relief, no relaxing of his shoulders, no putting his weapon down; he was cold. He was dark.

His clothes were torn. He had been in a fight.

Of course he had, idiot. That's why you're here!

"Buc-" His fingers tightened their hold of the gun they held.

You were still.

Watching him watch you.

He raised his weapon, face blank.

"Hey!" Tumbled from your lips. "I-it's me."

His brows frowned, finally! An emotion!

"Where are we?"

Now it was your turn to frown. "Uh, this is a Hydra facility."

He took one stomp forward. You didn't back down, staying put, mostly to show him you weren't scared but partly because you were.

A hand found your chest and you informed him, "I'm Y/N."

"Who are you?" His eyes raked up and down your figure.

Shit.

His eyes flashed and he flung the gun to the side, launching himself at you.

It would've been a happy reunion.

But it wasn't.

He landed on top of you, straddling you, his vibranium fingers cutting off your air supply.

You spluttered and gasped against him, trying in vain to pry them from your throat.

"b-cky...s-st-p...pl-se." You coughed at him. One hand holding his and the other clutched against his shirt. "Stop."

But he wasn't there.

You weren't looking at your love.

You were looking at someone foreign. A mystery. He wasn't Bucky.

[munson-blurbs]

You know how eddie mentioned he’s got Playboys? maybe bookworm!reader does for Eddie what he did for her and figures out his favorite picture and recreates it so they can role play again?

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), semi-public sex, oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up folx), use of pet names, daddy kink

WC: 2.1k

--

Sitting cross-legged on Eddie’s bed, you should be doing some work for your courses. The Thanksgiving break means that you don’t have classes for the week, but your professors certainly didn’t hold back on their assignments. And you’d had every intention of starting on them, but when you’d dropped your pencil and went searching for it under the bed, you found something a lot more interesting than computing z-scores and making statistical inferences.

That’s how you find yourself flipping through your boyfriend’s stack of Playboy magazines, eyes widening with each page turn. Photo after photo of women scantily clad in lingerie—and sometimes nothing at all—stare back at you. 

At first, you don’t notice a pattern among the pictures that Eddie has dog-eared; blondes, brunettes, redheads, curvy, thin, tall, short—they’re all there. No, the models couldn’t be any more different, but they do have something in common. It was almost cliché: your mechanic boyfriend jerking off to women sexily posed next to a car. Of course. 

You take note of one particularly well-used page, slightly warped and wavy, stuck to the page in front of it. The Playboy Bunny in the photo is wearing the tiniest denim shorts you’ve ever seen. Her bra barely contains her breasts, and she’s looking into the camera like she’s been caught doing something bad. Her cherry-red lips match the convertible she’s straddling. 

So this is what Eddie’s into, you think. The two of you have been exploring different kinks ever since your library escapades, but you hadn’t thought to surprise him at work. 

When he gets home an hour later, covered in motor oil with his long curly hair pulled back into a bun at the nap of his neck, you’re trying to figure out how you can pull off your plan. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs, bringing his hands to your cheeks and kissing you tenderly. “Wayne let you in?”

“Mhm,” you nod, holding up your notebook. “Figured I could get some work done before our movie night.”

Eddie grins. “My genius bookworm girlfriend,” he teases, smacking another kiss on your lips. “C’mon, you deserve a break. You can pick the movie tonight. Maybe I’ll even throw in a foot massage.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Either you want sex or you’re feeling guilty about something. Or both,” you add wryly, making him laugh. 

“Y’got me,” he mumbles, taking your hands in his and lacing your fingers together. “Tim asked me to close tomorrow, somethin’ about wanting to get a headstart on the Thanksgiving traffic, and I felt weird saying no…being the new guy and all…” He looks up at you sheepishly. “Wanted to spend as much time with you as I can before you go back to school.”

Your heart melts at his admission. “Eds, don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, standing up and looping your arms around his neck. “Gotta make money so we can get our own place next year, yeah?”

That seems to relieve him of any remorse, and he peppers kisses all over your face. But you have an ulterior motive; if he’s closing by himself tomorrow, that’ll give you an opportunity to surprise him.

You spend the next afternoon combing through your closet, tossing aside the fuzzy sweaters that lay on top. Finally, you settle on a cropped white shirt that barely covers your sheer lace bra. Your thong matches your bra, one of the few matching sets you have. The pièce de résistance are your denim cutoffs, shoved to the back of your drawer during the colder months. They’re not as short as the model’s–you don’t own anything like that–but they’re close enough. You slide on your favorite black kitten heels, swipe on some red lipstick, and check yourself out in the mirror; not too bad, if you say so yourself. Hopefully Eddie feels the same way.

At 5:30, you’re throwing on your longest coat and rushing out to your car. The shop closed at five o’clock, and you’ll get there around six, just to ensure that everyone else has left. Are you actually doing this? Are you seriously walking into your boyfriend’s place of work, half-naked, with the intention of re-creating a photo from a nudie mag? What if he laughs, or thinks you look silly? Was this all a mistake?

You swallow your fears as you approach the garage, heels click-clacking along the pavement. You immediately spot Eddie; rather, you spot his legs, since the rest of him is under a black Cadillac. Shedding the coat as inconspicuous as you can, you make your way over to where he’s meticulously working. 

“Hey, handsome,” you nudge his foot with your exposed toe. “Got some time for your favorite customer?”

“Baby?” Eddie’s confused voice rings out from under the car. “Did I forget my dinner at home?”

You giggle. “No, but I did bring something I know you’ll want to devour.” You press one palm against the hood of the car. “Care to take a look?”

Intrigued, Eddie slides out. The wrench in his hand drops to the ground with a clang as he takes in the sight before him. “Ho…ly…shit,” he breathes. “You look…you’re…holy shit.” His brain practically short-circuits as he drinks you in, a grin spreading across his face. “Can I touch you?”

“Please.” No sooner does the word leave your lips is he running his calloused hands along your bare torso, leaving black grease stains in his trail. You press up against him, feeling his hard length straining against his coveralls. “Already so worked up?” you lightly tease, grazing his clothed cock with your pointer finger. 

He nods, tugging you closer so he can kiss your neck. “Got my hot girlfriend showing up at my job, dressed like—”

“Your favorite Playboy Bunny?” you interrupt, watching his cheeks flush pink. “Relax, Eds. You found out my kinks from Fast Ride; it’s only fair that I find out yours from your, um, reading material.” One of his curls has come loose from the hair tie, and you wrap it around your finger. “Now, what did you always dream about doing to her?”

“Not her,” he shakes his head, voice so low it’s almost a growl. “You. Always pictured you.” He looks around for a remote to close the garage door. “Get on the hood,” he murmurs, grabbing a rag and wiping the grease off of his hands. His eyes never leave you as you sit on top of the car, feet resting on the front bumper. He leans over you, resting his hands on either side of your body. He kisses you hungrily, fingers flying over you like he can’t determine where to touch first. “Fuck, I gotta taste you,” he mumbles into your lips, fumbling with the button on your shorts. “Bet you taste so damn good. My pretty girl, so sweet f’me.” He brings your legs to his shoulders, taking in the most beautiful view he’s ever seen.

Eddie crouches between your thighs, pressing kisses against your lace-covered cunt. “You’re dripping wet, baby,” he moans. “Bet you don’t even need me to touch you.”

“No, I do. I n-need you,” you whimper. You hear him groan, growing even harder as you beg for him. The cool air hits your bare sex as he tears off your panties, diving in to eat you out. You feel his tongue lick a stripe up your folds, and you squirm at the sensation.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, not moving from his position, “be a good girl an’ stay right there.”

“What if I wanna be bad?” you coo, and you hear him groan as his fingertips dig harder into the plush of your thighs. “Good girls don’t walk around wearing next to nothing at their boyfriend’s job; not when anyone could walk in and see them.”

Eddie’s only response is to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking it harshly. One thick finger makes small circles around your weeping hole before he pushes it in. He curls it slightly, grazing your sweet spot with each little thrust. A mix of his spit and your slick drips down the curve of your ass, and he laps it up like he just can’t get enough.

“Daddy, please,” you cry out, using his favorite nickname as you lace your fingers through his hair, “‘m gonna come. Don’t stop.” He hums his approval, sending that final buzzing sensation through your core and bringing you to your orgasm. “Fuck, I’m coming. Yes, yes, fuck yes!” 

Eddie grins as your legs tremble around his head, and he knows he’s done something very right. He gently lowers them back down and helps you sit up, shucking off his coveralls and his boxers in one go. His cock springs to attention, and you start salivating at the way his pre-cum pearls at the tip. You guide him to the passenger side door and press him up against it, kissing down his neck and wrapping a hand around his girth. “Y’like that, Daddy?” you coo, giggling as Eddie lets out a pathetic uh-huh.

You get down on your knees, ignoring the cold asphalt underneath you. One hand cupping his balls and the other pumping the base of his shaft, you bring your lips to his tip and swirl your tongue around the circumference. You work your way down to the thatch of curls, trying to match the rhythm he’s setting as he moves his hips into it. 

“Look up at me, sweetheart,” Eddie croons. “Want to see those beautiful eyes while I fuck your face, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, though your vision is hazy as his thrusts test your gag reflex. His fists clench and you feel him twitch inside your mouth, and he reluctantly pulls back. Your lips pop as the tip passes them, and you pout. “Not good enough for you, Daddy?”

Eddie shakes his head and gives a terse chuckle. “Too good, princess,” he grunts. “Need to be inside that tight little pussy before I blow my load.” He reaches down to help you up, kissing you deeply. You can taste yourselves on the other’s lips, and it takes all of your willpower to break away.

“Bend over,” Eddie orders, and you lean your elbows on the hood of the car. He positions himself behind you, smacking your ass with his hard cock before dragging it through your slick folds. “Oh, baby,” he sighs, pushing himself into you, “y’always take me so good. My sexy little vixen.”

You whine as he grabs onto your hips, starting off slow and quickly picking up his pace. He nearly pulls all the way out before slamming back in, making you scream out his name. “Thas’ right, tell everyone who’s fucking you like this.” You feel one hand leave your waist, and you know exactly what’s about to happen.

“Y’know,” Eddie begins. He brings his palm to the fat of your ass and spanks it, “when we first met, I thought you were this goody two-shoes.” Another smack to your ass as he fucks you. “And then I found that book in your locker, and we–smack–fucked in the library. Knew you were dirty then, but goddamn.” He breathes out, trying to adjust his grip. “You’re so…fucking…perfect…” He rolls his hips, eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Faster, Daddy; ‘m so close,” you mewl, and he speeds up. He’s so deep that you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His tip hits that blissful spongy part, and you unravel with crying chants of his name.  

“Fuck, I can’t hold back any longer.” Eddie pulls out at the last possible moment, spilling onto your ass with a breathy groan. He brings his free hand to the hood of the car, and you look up to see him grinning widely. “That was…wow. If I didn’t already know you were my dream girl…” He keeps staring at you, as though he can’t believe you’re real.

“Um, babe?” you start, “could you clean me up?”

“Wha–oh, yeah, sorry. Just…fuck, you’re so fuckin’ hot.” He scrounges around the garage for a clean rag, snapping one up and wiping his cum off of you. “This is much better than coming on a magazine,” he teases, and you swat at him playfully before pulling on just your shorts, since your panties were destroyed by Eddie’s impatience.

You wrap your arms around his lithe waist once he’s back in his coveralls. “So, that was your favorite magazine. Am I going to find any favorite videos hiding under your bed next?” You giggle as he tickles you and kisses your neck.

“Nah,” he says, laughing. “But, y’know…we could make one.”

[geekundercover]

X-Men ‘97 episode 1x3 thoughts! Just wanted to elaborate a bit on some of the stuff we saw in Madelyne’s hellscape, namely the nightmare visions for Gambit and Morph, since it feels like there’s some room to interpret with those two as compared to the other members that have had their inner conflicts explored a bit already or are pretty straightforward.

With Gambit, the vision of Rogue and Magneto does seem to go beyond ‘the woman I love is hooking up with another man’ and hits at some deeper insecurity about himself and his character. The vision of Rogue is calling him out as not a good person, not a worthy person, at least not compared to Magneto. It seems like deep down, Gambit does feel an admiration for Magneto despite their previous status as enemies; he’s convicted, he’s a leader, he’s a savior of mutants, and some part of Gambit ranks himself as lesser by comparison, just a ‘nasty, thieving critter’. Magneto is a hero, and by implication, Gambit is not. That’s kinda sad to think about, since Gambit has helped save the world multiple times at this point and has made plenty of selfless actions in the process, but he has always held himself at a bit of a remove from the team and the cause they’re fighting for. Maybe that’s finally starting to get to him, or maybe has always bugged him on some level but his difficulties with trust have never let him overcome that self-enforced distance. If this is laying the groundwork for some sort of character arc, one where Gambit does seek to become more of what he sees as a worthy man, more of a hero, and whether or not that takes a positive or negative trajectory for him, I’m super interested to see it.

As for Morph... Listen, I've been making Morph x Wolverine jokes just like everyone else, they've been Like That since the OG series, but at this point I'm genuinely and seriously sure that Morph is in love with Logan and that's the core of their nightmare vision. Sure, the obvious terror fuel is their Sinister-based trauma, but listen to what Sinister said to them and the context in which he said it: They just left a conversation where they, Logan, and Gambit were discussing relationship woes, and after Logan ditched them to go check on Jean, they looked bummed and said "and then there was Morph." Left alone. Then the visions start, and Morph gets a very naked Logan posing sexily in the shower. Sure they try to make a very "boys in the locker room" sort of joke out of it, but come on Morph, there is no heterosexual explanation (and I do not say that lightly) for going to bug your buddy in the shower by offering to help him with "hard to reach spaces." Then the Sinister quote: "Always with the jokes, eh, Morph? As if I don't know. As if we ALL don't know." I genuinely think Morph is mega gay for Wolverine and is trying to hide it from everyone badly. They may all be mutants, but it is still the 90s, and just because they all have being a mutant in common with each other doesn't mean they're all on the same page in terms of queerness. Again, if this is the case, it's sad to think about. At this point in the animated canon, Morph and Wolverine make FAR more sense as a pairing than Logan and Jean ever did. Logan never gave up on Morph after they were brainwashed in the OG series, went to the literal ends of the earth to bring them back home, so it's no wonder if Morph caught Big Feelings about it but is scared to actually be honest about them.

[amanitaphalloides]

what is the jopkey manifesto. if you can share it for those of us not in the gc 🥺

anon thank you for asking this question i have been trying and trying to bait someone into asking. here is it copy and pasted

Jopkey: A Manifesto

Jopkey in Brief

Jopkey refers to the romantic/erotic pairing of Thomas Jopson and Cornelius Hickey, a couple of guys who actually existed in real life and have been twisted into something beyond recognition by Dan Simmons, AMC, and now random people online such as us. Jopkey is commonly referred to as “the thinking person’s Terror ship” due to it kinda making you think.

Arguments For Jopkey

Let us review the nuanced and delicate appeal of Jopkey.

Potential Dynamics

Two tops fight to the death. In this formulation, Jopson and Hickey fight (mentally or physically) for dominance until one of them is (mentally or physically) dead. And they’re both tops. Credit Hannah @groundwater for being insistent about this final point.

Daddy’s candy babies. A popular (loose definition of the word) dynamic in which Jopson and Hickey are equally devoted to pursuing Francis Crozier’s attentions. But in doing so they find themselves irrevocably drawn to their freakass competitor…

Realizing potential. Jopson and Hickey recognize, in each other, great untapped potential—perhaps to be annoying and evil, but perhaps also to be intriguing, exciting, and to live life to the fullest. Whether intentionally or otherwise, they spur each other to explore all life has to offer them. Which given the circumstances isn’t that much.

Situations in Which Jopkey Could Happen

Hatefucking at any time.

Everyone else dies and they have to repopulate the ships.

Angry grief sex after Crozier dies. Perhaps over his casket?

Hickey happens upon Jopson’s half-dead form and attempts to eat him. Jopson simply responds, eat this.

Pertinent Jopkey Moments

“I’ll be there in a minute, Jopson.” Hickey refuses to call him lieutenant. Hot!

Jopson’s mouth twitches while watching Hickey be punished as a boy. Glee, eroticism, or simply an expression of sympathetic pain? Perhaps all three. 

When Hickey picks up Neptune's turd he says "Sorry sir the dog relieved himself before I could call Mr Jopson." This implies he has watched Jopson pick up dog shit before and would feel comfortable calling Jopson for help. Hickey doing a task that he thinks should be Jopson's = they have so much in common.

This is also an early indication of their dynamic wherein they see their respective relationships to Crozier overlap. See "Daddy's candy babies" under Potential Dynamics above.

Jopson guards Hickey while he’s on tent arrest. Hickey teases Jopson about his shooting abilities with his hand down his pants, Jopson brags about all the critters he used to kill and eat and says “My aim’s just fine Mr. Hickey” sexily. Implies Hickey is also a critter to be skinned and devoured! Okay!

During this scene Hickey is touching his own penis and Jopson puts his hand in his own mouth. Through the transference property this means that they have had oral sex.

They appear next to one another in the list of Terror crew members in a published book in the gift shop of the National Maritime Museum as pictured here (ie they are cuddling):

Arguments Against Jopkey

Despite the cold hard facts/group delusion depending on your perspective, some people are anti-Jopkey. Let’s take a look at the common reasons behind this unfortunate sentiment and resolve them one by one.

Anti-Jopkey Arguments and Resolutions

"Jopson simply does not think of Hickey."

Fortunately this is easily disputed. Jopson is constantly looking at Hickey like ARGH. Also we use our little imaginations. Sooooo.

The anti-Jopkey contingency argues "that’s just Liam Garrigan’s face" (re. point 2 in the above).

A typical argument and quite a simple one to dispel! We only need apply the “say yes to the text” ethos—by which we understand that everything present in the text is there to be explored and enjoyed, quite separate from the circumstances of its creation. Jopkey is not so weak as to be dependent upon the actors’ intentions. Regardless of whether or not AMC’s The Terror was filmed with the specific and singular intention of breathing life into Jopkey (which it was), all that truly matters is the effect. And ultimately the effect of Liam Garrigan’s face is eroticism, glee, intrigue, sympathy, and perhaps even romance.

The truth is there will never be consensus in the group chat or in the world, and Jopkey will never be true or untrue. It will remain Schrodinger’s Jopkey, and by offering insight into our psyches and groupthink dynamics, it is actually a vital and beautiful step towards world peace.

Jopkey Bangers

I Fucking Hate You - Godsmack

Since You’ve Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson

I Knew You Were Trouble - Taylor Swift

Jopkey Mood Board

Affirmations for Jopkeyers

I am so smart for shipping Jopkey.

My phone knows the word Jopkey. It knows that I am not typing about Jockey.

I understand British accents perfectly. Every word Jopkey says is comprehensible to me.

My words and actions honor Jopkey and my Jopkeyer compatriots.

I can think completely secret erotic Jopkey thoughts on this bus; my brain is closed to psychic attacks from the bus driver and other passengers.

I know who these characters are; I can tell them apart from other light-haired and dark-haired men who appear onscreen together. I can recognize their interactions as unequivocally Jopkey.

The Jopkey Anthem

O Jopkey Jopkey! Of thee I sing!

With Jopkey I can do anything!

Jopkey helps me laugh and play

So I ship Jopkey every day! 

Thomas Jopson — You always wow!

I know who you are by now

When first I watched I couldn't see

But you're not just Muttonchops #3

And Hickey lad with your sly grin

Reminiscent of delicious sin

Could you really be so wrong?

Not according to my Jopkey song!

[alternate hickey apologist verse] And Hickey — the perfect man!

Through thick and thin we’ll always stan

You’ve never done nothin’ wrong

And so to you we sing this song !

I pray this ship will never sink

Lest we approach the mental brink

May Jopkey sail forevermore

And far outlive Lieutenant Gore.

[prince-liest]

any advice on how to write smut as an aroace person? I'm in it for the more niche stuff (consent issues, negotiation, navigating consent issues, I'm all about that) but I just KNOW these characters would be passionately making out in between. so I'm just left going back and forth trying to describe them doing that when personally I'm neutral about kissing at best and find it feels super weird at worst lol

Oh, gosh, hahaha - I'm ngl, I think it really depends on the character! Like, I've written a lot of smut and so on over the past couple of years and aside from blatantly pandering to my own kinks to a rather flagrant degree, I write it the same way as I write anything else: by thinking about how the POV character would experience it!

To follow the making-out example: I write Alastor as aroace and generally pretty neutral-tolerant about kissing, so whenever I write a kiss from his point of view, he ends up occasionally curious about the physical sensation of wet/warm/staticky (since it's usually Vox) or about how his partner is experiencing it, occasionally bored and distracted, occasionally actively very interested if blood gets involved or he likes the reactions he's getting. Meanwhile I write Mu Qing in a relationship with Feng Xin as extremely demi and otherwise sex and romance-repulsed, so he tends to be very into a kiss with Feng Xin...but also surprised and stressed out by his own desire after, y'know, 800 years of celibacy and so on.

For allo characters, it obviously can differ as well. The way I write him, Vox is pretty horny, obsessed with Alastor, and has had Alastor on a weird pedestal of love and hatred for a long time, so any radiostatic kiss I write from his point of view is going to be intense. He's going to enjoy the sensations, marvel at the fact that Alastor is letting him do this, fantasize about taking it further, catalogue every little thing about the experience like Alastor's comparative inexperience and how much that makes Vox feel special, or how sharp and sexily threatening Alastor's teeth are, etc. In comparison, I write Lucifer as a little bit depressive and having taken a hit to his self-esteem on the front of sex and romance after separating with Lilith, so in my fic where he hooks up with Angel Dust, he's also enjoying the physical sensations, but in a way that's much more focused on the emotional tenderness and feeling taken care of, and then frequently diverting into his performance anxiety.

Overall, I think that intimacy is a great way to explore characters and relationship dynamics, and (perhaps this is very aroace of me) I wouldn't necessarily approach it much differently from how I approach writing characters in any other situation. Rather than thinking of it as writing this mystical thing called smut, think of it as writing this character going through these particular acts, and engage with the writing as "what does this mean to this character, what would they enjoy, what would they focus on, what are they getting out of it," etc etc. And I think that fits in really well with what you're already interested in writing!

And, hey, if you're really not interested in writing the sex itself... honestly, there's no need to! You can always just fade it to black. Have the consent discussion, the awkward fumbling, the missteps, write a short lead-in, and then tack on something like, "They fell back to the bed. This time, when X's hands tensed and curled into the bedsheets, it was for a much more pleasurable reason" at the end or whatever.

[coffeenonsense]

I usually try to stay in my lane most of the time (mostly bc I am far too old for fandom drama) but what the hell, it's friday, let's put that lit degree to use:

the way people are playing morality politics with fiction is really starting to genuinely irk me and I think some of the responses to ascended astarion are a perfect example of why this type of thinking is actually hugely detrimental to one's ability to meaningfully engage with fiction and also to the future of art.

astarion is one of the most well-written complex characters I've seen in recent years bar none (and I'm clearly not alone given the explosion of his personal fandom lol) and he has a truly compelling, emotionally resonant character arc whether you ascend him or not

If you keep him a spawn, you get a deeply touching, realistic character's journey to healing and personal growth where he learns who he is after the experience of his trauma and depending on the player's choice, explores his relationship to sex, romance and intimacy

If you ascend astarion, you get an equally emotional and well-rounded character arc where he chooses the power that allows him to have the desperate freedom and safety he's wanted, but in the process eschews any hope of real healing or personal development, and again, depending on the player's choices, restarts the cycle of abuse by taking cazador's place.

These options offer vastly different paths for the character and experiences for the player, but while yes, ascended astarion is the evil ending, and yes, ascending astarion is a tragedy, and a fucking incredible one (not only do you have astarion reigniting a circle of abuse but you have the narrative weight of KNOWING he could have actually overcome his trauma...hats off to the bg3 team tbh) but that does not mean ascending astarion MAKES YOU AS THE PLAYER EVIL

Ascend astarion because you love tragic story arcs, ascend him because you want to indulge in a master/slave vampire fantasy, don't ascend him because you want a healing character journey, don't ascend him because you want a sweet romance; all of these choices carry the same moral weight for the player, which is to say, none, because they are an exploration of fiction.

I know I'm saying this to the villain fucker website but it bears repeating; just because someone wants to engage with evil, fucked up characters or content does not mean they support evil acts in their real life, and furthermore, exploring dark, taboo or tragic concepts safely is part of what fiction is for. It enables us to look at those things from a distance, work through difficult feelings and develop greater understanding of what makes our fellow humans tick — and before you get it twisted there's also no moral issue with exploring fucked up media bc you're horny or just, because. You can take it as seriously (or as sexily) as you want.

It's starting to really concern me how many people not only do not get, but are violently opposed to this concept, because equating what someone likes in fiction with their real life moral code and actions is an incredibly dangerous and let's be honest, immature way of thinking that not only stunts your ability to engage with fiction but ironically, hampers your ability to deal with complicated issues and emotions in real life.

I don't know what's driving this trend (though purity culture is certainly playing a role) but it's definitely something that's not just impacting individuals but contributing to the commercialization of art, where we get games and stories and tv shows and books that regurgitate the same safe, mass marketable plotlines and character archetypes over and over and over again so corporations can squeeze out as much profit as possible.

Anyway, remember kids: There's no such thing as thought crime, reaching for morally pure unproblematic media is directly contributing to the death of art, and this is why funding the humanities is important.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XV.

GIF by azertyrobaz

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: A very eventful 4th of July celebration.

WORD COUNT: ~10.3k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: fluff i think? idk javi is working overtime here, some horny thoughts >:), kissing <3, descriptions of injuries and blood, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that i'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: first of all it's f*ck america we're just here for the vibes, okay. i had so much fun writing this, so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did! 🎆 <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

The sun shimmers on the surface of Lake Fraiser, casting reflections that dance across the water. The celebration is in full swing. The sound of laughter and cheerful conversations mixes with the sizzle of the grill and the occasional pop of a firecracker in the distance.

Paloma struggles up the steep wooden steps that lead to the kitchen, balancing a precarious stack of trays filled with the different desserts she’s made. Her arms strain under the weight, and she can feel the warmth of the summer sun annoyingly beating down on her. She pauses to readjust, narrowly avoiding the lemon bars from sliding off the top.

She’s been having quite a day. It began with a kitchen catastrophe that forced her to scrap and restart a batch of her treats. So, she had just told her father to go on without her, promising to join them later on.

Then came the clumsy misstep at the gas station, where she stumbled over her own two feet and badly skinned her knee. Now, with each step she takes, a stinging reminder pulses through her leg. The hastily applied bandaid, already starting to peel from her sweaty skin, offers little relief.

“Need some help with that?”

She glances up to see Javier, his brown eyes dotted with golden flecks. He’s holding a string of lights, his plain shirt and swim shorts an attractive sight, dark hair sexily tousled and slightly pushed back from his sunglasses sitting atop his head. She’s never seen him look this casual and it has both her heart and core throbbing.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” She replies, attempting to sound confident despite the wobbling trays.

His brows raise, setting the lights down on a nearby chair. “Are you sure? ‘Cause it looks like you’re about to start a dessert landslide.”

She huffs, her stubborn streak kicking in. “M’fine. Got it under control.”

He can’t help but smirk at her antics. “Y’know, there’s no shame in acceptin’ a little help. Especially when it comes with such a tempting offer for me.”

Paloma narrows her eyes playfully, lips curving into a teasing smile. “For you? Huh… so what’s this ‘offer’?”

“I get first dibs on these as a thank you.”

“Oh, is that all?” she replies, her voice laced with mock skepticism.

“Well, since you’re askin’, I was also hopin’ to pull you away later before the fireworks start,” he adds, his voice softer, more sincere.

Her cheeks redden, the warmth spreading through her in a way that has nothing to do with the summer heat.

She glances down at the trays, her resolve wavering as she meets Javier’s hopeful gaze again. His expression is earnest, full of an unspoken yearning, that she can’t help but give in.

“Yeah, alright, fine,” she concedes, “But only ‘cause it’s been a hectic day and I don’t want to be responsible for anyone missin’ out on dessert.”

He chuckles, a comforting sound that makes her feel like she’s buzzing. “Deal.” He reaches over and takes the containers, his fingers brushing hers.

The sensation has those pesky butterflies in her stomach fluttering, so she focuses on the task at hand to settle them.

“What’s in this one?” He asks with genuine curiosity as he peeks under the foil, walking alongside her as they go up the stairs.

“My pride and joy–– mini cherry pies. Had to restart ‘em this mornin’ but they came out so much better ‘cause of it.”

“How festive.”

“You know me. A true all-american girl.”

They put everything down on the counter once they’re in the kitchen and Paloma glances around, noticing how deserted the area is. The sisters are usually running around like headless chickens trying to make sure everything is perfect.

“Where is everyone?”

“Down by the lake,” Javier answers, nodding towards the large window over the sink that offers a panoramic view of the property.

The lawn is dotted with clusters of people, a lively tapestry of decorations in reds, whites, and blues celebrating the holiday. Children race across the grass, their joyous laughter mingling with the distant sounds of splashing water and excited chatter. Paddle boats and kayaks glide smoothly across the lake’s surface.

The sight is almost idyllic, a perfect summer day.

“They were gettin’ worried. Supposed to have been here hours ago.” He leans his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and the pull of his triceps has that damn t-shirt accentuating how toned he is.

And his forearms. She could pass out right now. The sight of his veins protruding against the skin is so attractive.

“Yeah, don’t remind me. Hit a few bumps along the way but m’here now. Better late than never, yeah?” She busies herself setting everything she’s brought out neatly, oblivious to the way his eyes rake over her body.

She’s wearing a Team USA t-shirt from the 1984 Olympics. Lola got it for her when she flew out to Los Angeles to watch the games. To Paloma, it was the coolest thing ever, and it quickly became her go-to patriotic shirt. The soft, worn fabric clings to her comfortably, and the faded red, white, and blue logo gives it some personality. 

He’s always loved how the denim mini skirt hugs her curves, showcasing those beautiful legs that he wants to caress and touch on. It rides up high on her thighs, hinting at the white bathing suit underneath, glimpsed briefly when she bends over. 

There’s also something about a woman in a pair of boots. It’s definitely the Texan in him that finds it sexy.

Javier reminds himself to keep the staring respectful and to a minimum. But it’s very difficult to when she’s walking around looking like that.

To beat the heat, she’s clipped her hair up and it naturally styled in a very Pamela Anderson-esque updo, a few stray pieces framing her face.

“What happened to your knee?” He can’t help but ask, eyeing the flesh wound and how the bandaid was literally hanging on by a thread.

“My clumsiness struck again. Tripped on my way to pump gas. Dunno what was more embarrassin’–– the actual trippin’ or how a family of five watched the whole thing happen from ‘cross the parkin’ lot. Swear they got a kick out of it.”

He laughs and she smiles softly, the warmth in her eyes mirroring his own fondness.

“I’ll go look for a first aid kit to help with that.”

“You don’t have to, s’not not that bad.” Just as she says this, she accidentally bumps her knee against the counter and hisses at the pain, some fresh blood now dripping down her leg.

“I’ll be right back,” Javier pushes himself off the counter and disappears to the nearest bathroom to retrieve what he needs. She’s kind of relishing in his newfound motivation to stay in her good graces.

When he returns, he guides her to sit on one of the stools, his touch gentle yet firm as he carefully cleans the wound. She flinches slightly at the sting of the alcohol wipe, but his reassuring grip on her calf and the soothing circles he rubs against her skin help ease the discomfort.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” she hums, captivated by how handsome he looks while he’s concentrated, the pain now eclipsed by the tingles that follow his touch.

Brows are pulled together, mouth slightly parted, and tongue just barely poking out… he looks so dreamy.

After bandaging her up, he discards of the used materials and stands. “All set.”

“Thanks, doctor. I can walk again,” she jokes and he shakes his head with a playful smile, heading to the sink to wash his hands.

“Gotta finish stringing up some lights, but your dad’s down there by the deck.”

Paloma nods appreciatively, now eager to immerse herself in the day’s celebrations.

“Thanks for helpin’ me out. Hopefully Tammy ‘n them don’t have you workin’ all day,” she quips, half-serious about the women’s tendency to enlist any man around to do the heavy lifting.

“No problem, querida,” he replies softly, the endearment rolling off his tongue in a way that makes her heart skip a beat. “And it’s too late for that, but I don’t mind. Keeps me busy.”

“It’s a party not an odd job.”

“Still, it makes me feel useful.”

They part ways after that, Paloma hurrying back to her car to retrieve her tote bag with her essentials for the day. She joyfully bounds down the wooden steps, greeting familiar faces with warm hellos as she makes her way towards the deck.

There’s people everywhere, a much bigger turn out than last year.

Near the shoreline, a group of teenagers play an animated game of volleyball, their shouts of encouragement and friendly competition echoing over the water. Further down, clusters of people lounge on brightly colored towels and beach chairs, dipping their toes in the cool lake or floating lazily on inflatable rafts shaped like flamingos and unicorns. Paddle boats and kayaks drift leisurely, their occupants waving and calling out to those on the shore.

The deck of the lake house is a hive of activity, with adults congregating around coolers. Long tables covered with American flag tablecloths are laden with an array of delicious foods. The hum of conversation and bursts of laughter create a symphony of summer joy, a fitting soundtrack, she thinks.

“There she is.”

She’s greeted by her father and the sisters from the bar, all four of them lounging around one of the picnic tables.

“Sorry m’late. Had a crazy mornin’.” She leans in to kiss each woman on the cheek before turning to hug her father, who’s nursing a Corona in his hand.

“Not any crazier than your daddy attemptin’ to grill again. Almost blew himself to pieces.”

They share a laugh at Romeo’s expense, falling into small talk as she makes herself comfortable against the benched seat of the table, slipping on her sunglasses and plucking a slice of watermelon from the large plate at the center.

“S’alotta folks here. Like, the whole damn county it seems.” She observes, scanning the crowd and taking a refreshing bite of the fruit.

“People need community after everythin’ thats been plaguin’ all the towns. Somethin’ lighthearted to keep morale high.” They all agree in a quiet murmur, the air shifting as the conversation gets solemn for a split second, but it’s quickly brought back on track when they’re approached by a few regulars from the bar.

Her gaze drifts off then, catching Javier’s silhouette from the distance as he helps a few teens reel in a small boat.

He’s so broad yet lean. She wonders if he’s been working out recently. The sun makes his brown skin glisten, his red shirt a darker shade in some spots where sweat dampens the cotton. She’s having a good time eyeing his exposed legs, since he’s always wearing those tight ass jeans or in uniform.

The swim trunks leave little to the imagination. They cling to his narrow waist and wide thighs. She can’t help but ogle how the fabric hugs his ass, licking her lips.

She pours herself a glass of sweet tea, the cool liquid quenching her thirst. Both literally and figuratively. Watching him stirs something deep within—a mix of arousal for his physicality and a longing that almost breaches her boundary of not rushing things.

As she sips her tea, her eyes continue to linger, imagining the feel of his strong arms around her, the warmth of his body close to hers. She didn’t get to really enjoy him the first and only time she’s taken him.

While it had massacred her heart afterwards— she swears she’s never felt as pleasured as she did when he was fucking her. Not even with August, and their sex was great.

Now all she can really focus on is him, moving effortlessly by the water’s edge, unaware (or very aware) of the effect he has on her. She’s completely tuned out of the conversations at their table.

“He’s a real cutie, ain’t he?” Kristy’s voice cuts through Paloma’s reverie, pulling her away from her ogling. She blushes when she notices the knowing simper on her face.

“Who?” doing a piss poor job of playing it cool, Paloma reaches for more sweet tea.

“Don’t play dumb with me, girl, you know who m’talkin’ ‘bout.”

Her blush deepens, “Suppose he is…”

“He’s got that ruggedness like them cowboys from old western movies. Makes ya wanna saddle up and take him for a ride.”

Paloma laughs loudly, scrunching her nose. “Geez why dontcha tell me how ya really feel.”

“Oh darlin’, the interest for men bus has long departed from this station. M’sayin’ it ‘cause of you.”

“Me?” She chokes on her drink, caught off guard by the directness.

“Yes you. I’ve seen the way you act around him. ‘N not just today, either. You’re crushin’ hard, sister.”

If only she knew the full extent of the fuckery between them. But also… was her attraction really that obvious?

Duh. You’re always staring at him like a teenage girl does with her celebrity crush.

“Yeah, well, like you said. He’s cute and all but…”

“But…?” Kristy prompts, leaning in with interest.

“Look, I didn’t come here to get grilled, alright? That’s the food’s job,” she deflects playfully, standing from her spot and stretching her limbs.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad—don’t ya?” Kristy’s voice carries a teasing lilt as she leans in conspiratorially. “S’okay, pretty girl, secret’s safe with me. Though I’d reckon you should claim your territory ‘fore your girlfriend swoops in ‘n snatches your hunk.”

She juts her chin up to signal for Paloma to look over and when she does, the smile on her face drops.

It’s Sloane, standing there with her back turned, chatting with Javier. She can’t see her face, but the silhouette is unmistakable.

Jealousy prickles beneath her skin, green swims in her brown eyes. The sight of them together stirs a wave of unease and insecurity within her.

“Gonna go use the restroom,” she mutters suddenly, excusing herself before Kristy, who is somewhat amused by this little drama that’s unfolding before her, can respond.

She briskly walks off towards the house. Each step feels weighted with uncertainty, her mind racing with thoughts of what might transpire if she looks back and sees something that’ll confirm her fears.

Let this moment be a test, a chance to see if he will follow through on his promises and stay true to his word.

“Long time no see, officer. Haven’t got worked up again or did ya find someone to replace me?” Sloane bats her lashes up him, a playful smirk playing on her lips as she pinches the lower between her teeth.

He glances at her briefly, his expression unreadable, before side-stepping her entirely and heading towards the deck. He needs another beer and cigarette—quickly, and to distance himself from her unexpected presence.

“Oooh, cold shoulder. Knew you were harsh but seein’ it in practice... s’kinda hot,” She calls after him, her voice carrying a hint of amusement and challenge.

Javier halts abruptly, a surge of irritation flashing across his features. He looks around, ensuring no one is paying attention to their exchange, before turning back to face her. His tall frame towers hers, his jaw clenched with restrained frustration.

“Dunno what you think this is but I’m tellin’ you right now it’s nothin’ but a big fucking mistake,” He retorts sharply, his voice low but firm, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Her expression wavers slightly, a mix of surprise and defiance crossing her features. She meets his gaze steadily, own demeanor shifting to match his intensity.

“You weren’t sayin’ all that when I was ridin’ your cock in the cab of your truck.” She shoots back, her tone laced with an edge, intended to provoke.

And it does. Javier knows he shouldn’t let her get under his skin like this—it’s exactly what she wants. But he can’t help it, especially not with Paloma nearby. He’s putting in every ounce of effort to mend things between them, to make things right. He won’t allow Sloane to fuck that up for him.

His jaw ticks again and he leans in closer, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “You are nothing special. All you’re good for is spreading your legs, said it yourself. A distraction that likes bein’ used,” the words drip maliciously from his tongue, “This,” he motions between them, “doesn’t exist. It never fucking happened.”

He holds her gaze for a moment longer, his resolve like steel in his dark eyes. Without another word, he walks away with purposeful strides.

Sloane stands there, seething silently, her expression twisting into a petulant scowl, like a spoiled child denied a treat. Her hands ball into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fights the urge to lash out. They’re quickly losing control over the situation and that pisses her off. If only August had listened to her.

Meanwhile, Paloma stuffs a piece of dessert into her mouth, using the sweetness to distract herself from the interaction between Javier and Sloane.

She’d been half tempted to watch it unfold from the window, but kept herself from doing so. It just felt odd.

“Hey, little dove.” August’s southern twang breaks through her thoughts, and she sees him leaning against the doorway that leads from the kitchen to the foyer.

Great, she thinks wryly. If Sloane’s here, then August is sure to follow. Or the other way around. She scans the room, half-expecting to spot Gabriel lurking in a corner somewhere.

“Hey, August,” she greets, her tone guarded. She wants to ask him what he’s doing here, but it’s a public event, and the question feels futile. “What’s up?”

“Haven’t heard from ya in weeks…” his voice is veiled with frustration.

“Okay, and?” She responds curtly, own irritation evident as she wipes at the corner of her mouth where some icing has smeared.

His gaze narrows and he walks over to her, reaching out to firmly grasp her wrist and pulling her towards a more secluded area of the house.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” Paloma whispers sharply, tugging away from his grasp with annoyance etched across her face.

“So that’s it, huh? You jus’ not gonna talk to me anymore?”

No, she intended to have a civil conversation with him and properly address their situation. But she hasn’t found the right time or the emotional fortitude to do it yet.

She stands uncomfortably before him as his upset gaze pins her in place.

“Don’t be ridiculous, ‘course I was gonna talk to you.” She crosses her arms against her chest, “I just wasn’t ready to but since you’re here with the intention of gettin’ some typa answer outta me…” Trailing off, she wracks her brain trying to think of the right words to say. “I think s’best if we just… go our separate ways.” She’s never had to break up with anyone before, so she’s totally winging it.

“Separate ways?” He repeats, words edged with disbelief and a hint of offense. “You really gonna say that? After everythin’ we’ve been through. After all I’ve shown you.”

She swallows hard, her chest tightening at the confrontation. “While I’m thankful for all that, I’ve decided s’best for me to let my momma’s past stay in the past. She had her secrets, ‘n now I get to have mine.” She tries to keep her voice steady, clearing her throat and shifting her weight uneasily between her feet.

“Really, it’s all been… eye openin’ and amazin’,” well not everything but she won’t get hung up on the technicalities. Her words remain careful yet firm, “And sometimes I still can’t believe s’all true… b-but m’just not cut out for all that. I’m sorry I can’t be the person you want me to be.” The person you think I am.

The silence that follows is uncomfortable, almost suffocating, in the small spare bedroom he’s pulled them in. She’s partially relieved they’re not having this conversation out in the open, especially not with Javier and her father nearby.

“So that’s it then? Got me showin’ you all your true potential for months just so you can break my heart like this,” He finally speaks, with pure resignation dripping from his tongue.

True potential? Her face twitches at that, unsure of what to make of it.

“The last thing I wanna do is hurt you,” she replies softly, ready for this to be over, “but I can’t, in good faith, continue this. It’s too much for me.”

She still thinks about what’d he said the last time they were together; how that old man was supposed to be an offering. How can he say things like that then get upset when people compare his group to a cult? 

That possibility flits through her mind too fast for her to actually ponder it, too focused on the look he’s giving her now.

His blue eyes search hers, seeking any hint of doubt or regret. Yet Paloma meets his gaze with unwavering conviction, and he realizes he’s lost her for good.

“Is this really what you want?” He asks after the long pause.

“Yes,” she replies, quietly but firmly.

“What about Slo?”

She can’t help the pinched expression she gives, “What about her?”

“She’s gonna be real upset when she finds out you’re out.”

Ugh, cry me a river. “Yeah, well, I realized that maybe we weren’t as close as I thought. Been meanin’ to talk to her too but m’sure you can pass the message along.”

Because if she has to see her face to face, Paloma has no idea how she’s going to react.

There’s more silence as he takes in her shift in priorities. He chuckles wryly, “‘Kay… fine. Hope you don’t regret this.”

Paloma can’t quite place his tone, all she knows is that it stirs unease at the pit of her stomach, but she just remains quiet. It doesn’t matter how the aftermath makes her feel, she knows this is the right decision.

He’s gone in the blink of an eye and she’s left alone in the room, feeling a little lighter but also needing a few minutes to collect herself.

She won’t let this ruin her day. She’s been looking forward to being here all week and is dead set on having a good time.

When she finally rejoins everyone else on the deck, she spots Javier among their small group, smoking a cigarette. Relief washes over her, knowing he’s here and not off elsewhere in someone else’s company. Call her selfish, but she’s on a new path of allowing herself to take what she wants for once. And right now, the thing she really wants is his undivided attention.

She waves her father goodbye as he drives off to work, unfortunately not being able to stay the entire night. It’s later in the evening now, sun moving lazily across the sky, yet the heat remains relentless.

The cool lake water looks inviting, but she still feels uneasy from the nightmare she had a few weeks ago. Lingering dread nags at her, and although she knows she shouldn’t overthink it, she can’t help it.

“Ready to sneak off yet?” Javier’s breath is warm against her neck as he comes up behind her, sending a cascade of goosebumps across her skin. She does her best to hide just how reactive she is to him.

“Wasted no time, did you?” She turns her head to look at him, a small yet teasing smirk playing on her lips.

“Gotta have some respect. Can’t be going after a pretty girl in front of her dad like that. Especially when he’s carrying a loaded gun. Who am I, Jonah Abbott?”

She giggles, scrunching her nose. “Nice one. M’surprised he isn’t here. He loves a good party and bein’ the center of attention.”

“Missing him already?”

She nudges him with her elbow, “Never that.”

“Then we better get goin’ before he shows up. He’s got a penchant for appearin’ when mentioned.”

“And where exactly are we goin’?”

“Just to the other side of the lake. Not that far of a walk. I was over there this morning.”

Paloma hums, glancing at the large crowd of people scattered about before nodding. “Okay. Let me go grab my things.”

As she walks off, Javier feels a knot of nervousness tighten in his stomach. As much as he’s been wanting to spend some alone time with her, he’s anxious about what that might bring. Would he fuck up and say the wrong thing, driving her away? Would she realize that she actually wants nothing to do with him?

Every interaction they’ve had today has been great, so he’s off to a good start, and he’s enjoying being around her and everyone else. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt this... normal. It’s an odd feeling, but he’s learning to embrace it rather than reject it.

She returns with her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “Ready?”

He nods, offering her a reassuring smile despite his inner doubts. “Ready.”

They begin their walk, the sounds of laughter and splashing water fading behind them as they move towards the quieter side of the lake. The path is shaded by tall trees, offering some respite from the heat.

The tension in Javier’s shoulders eases, and he finds himself relaxing, if only slightly.

“So, what’s over on this side?” She asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Just a nice spot. Thought it’d be perfect for us to spend some time alone together, away from all the noise.”

She smiles, her eyes gleaming with admiration. “Sounds perfect.”

They continue on, their conversation flowing easily. It’s actually kind of scary how they’re able to slip back into this normalcy. Making small talk as if they haven’t spent the last however long at each other’s throats.

The sun dips lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the body of water. By the time they reach their destination, Javier feels those nerves from before wash away entirely. He spreads out a blanket he had stashed nearby, and they sit down, the gentle lapping of the water against the shore providing a soothing ambiance.

Paloma leans back, closing her eyes and soaking in the tranquility of the moment. “This is nice,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees, watching her with a gentle smile.

They enjoy the peace and quiet for a minute. He knows there’s still a lot to figure out, but right now, he really is content with taking it one step at a time.

“Slo and August were here earlier.” She doesn’t know why, but the words tumble out, her curiosity compelling her to open one eye and glance over at him, gauging his reaction.

Javier scoffs, irritation blooming at the mention. “Yeah. Had the unfortunate pleasure of runnin’ into her. Did nothing but try and piss me off.” He works the gum in his mouth as he looks out into the distance, then he asks, “You talk to your boy toy?”

Paloma rolls her eyes. “Talkin’ to him right now,” she teases, unable to resist. His lips pull into a small smirk as he continues staring out at the water, his side profile illuminated by the warm light, jaw flexing and tensing with every chew. God, he looks so hot. 

“But if you must know,” she continues, “I did. Told him things between us were over.”

He’s fucking relieved and happy to hear that. “Good.”

“Good?” She cocks a brow at him and he turns to face her again, leaning back on his forearms. She shifts to turn her body, propping her weight on her elbow, their faces now closer together.

“Can’t make this work if you’ve got a man.”

She hums in response, her eyes lingering on his pouty lips.

Javier’s smirk widens, and he leans in, just barely, minty breath fanning against her skin. “You know, querida, you drive me crazy.”

She runs her tongue across her lower lip, her heart racing. “Good,” she echoes, her voice barely a whisper.

The world around them seems to fade away as the electricity between them intensifies. The lake, the sun, the party in the distance—all of it becomes irrelevant compared to the undeniable chemistry they share.

“C’mon, let’s get in the water,” Javier says suddenly, standing and pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a fit and chiseled torso. He kicks off his shoes, and Paloma has to bite her lip at the sight of him.

Yup, he’s definitely been working out. His defined, broad shoulders and the tantalizing trail of hair on his belly make her pulse quicken. The swim trucks fit very snugly against his bulge.

“You just gonna admire or…?” He smirks yet again, catching her stare, and she scoffs playfully, rising from her spot and undressing herself.

Her white bathing suit is a little more modest than what she would usually wear, but it still showcases her curves in a way that has his brain short circuiting. His eyes trace the scar over her hip which only adds to the allure.

Javier’s mind races back to that night they hooked up. How he wishes he could redo it, not just to avoid the mess he caused afterwards, but to keep from rushing through it.

He’s typically all about filthy and quick fucks, but with her, he wants it to be different.

He wants to take his time, discover the spots she likes to be kissed and caressed at, to hear her pretty moans and pants of his name while his tongue maps out every inch of her.

“You just gonna admire or…?” She repeats his words, unclipping her hair and it cascades over her shoulders. The soft mahogany waves glow beautifully in the oranges and purples of the sunset.

“Guess we both have a staring problem,” he replies, unable to tear his eyes away.

Paloma steps closer. “Guess we do,” she mutters, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Race you?”

“You’re on.”

They both take off running toward the small dock a little further down, but as they get closer, she begins to feel more of that apprehension from earlier, slowing her steps.

The dock seems to stretch endlessly, the water around it looking darker and more ominous than before. Her throat runs dry and the rocky ground beneath her feet feels like it’s anchoring her in place.

Relax, it was just a dream you had weeks ago. Get over it. She repeats over and over, but still doesn’t move from her spot.

Javi reaches the end of the narrow structure, turning back to her with a carefree smile that falters when he sees her standing still.

“You okay?” He asks, brows furrowing slightly with concern.

“Y-Yeah, it’s just,” she stammers, feeling a bit childish, “I had a weird nightmare a few weeks ago involvin’ water, and it’s just spookin’ me a little right now.”

His expression softens as he walks back to her. “Hey, it’s alright,” he tells her gently, “We don’t have to get in if you don’t want to.”

Paloma takes a deep breath, “No, I want to,” she insists, her voice a little stronger. “I just needed a moment.”

He nods, understanding as ever, “‘Course, whenever you’re ready.”

She takes a tentative step forward, then another, until they’re walking side by side.

When they reach the end, he looks over at her reassuringly. “You sure you’re fine?”

Paloma nods, her apprehension disappearing with every step they took. “Yup.”

“You don’t have to act like you are. It’s okay if you—”

She cuts him off by suddenly pushing him into the water, laughing loudly in triumph.

He resurfaces, wet hair obscuring his vision and he pushes it back with his thick fingers. “Eres traviesita, nena (you’re naughty, baby). I’ll let it slide on account of your little bad dream.”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “Got no choice but to, cowboy.”

Now it’s her turn to dive in, taking few steps back to get a running start. As she breaks the surface, a sense of exhilaration washes over her, the weight of her nightmare gone.

“See?” he says, treading water beside her. “Nothin’ to be scared of.”

She grins, feeling better already. “Thanks, Javi. I needed that. Been avoidin’ the water all day ‘cause of it.”

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice warm and sincere and he likes hearing her call him Javi.

They float and swim around, taking turns doing cannonballs and plunging into the water. It’s as if they’ve reverted to childhood, joking around and teasing each other relentlessly, scoring dives and seeing who can make a bigger splash.

It’s always him. Him and his stupid, attractive broadness.

They’re carefree, relishing the pinch of privacy they’re able to share without the prying eyes of nosy neighbors. Javier imagines a future where they don’t have to sneak around, where he can proudly have her on his arm, showing the world what she means to him.

The sun fully sets, just barely illuminating the now night sky. “There’s a canoe back on shore I want to take you out on.”

She’s floating on her back as he says this, her eyes fluttering open to look over at him. “You’re pullin’ out all the stops today, aren’t ya?” she says, starting to swim over to where he is with a cheeky grin.

“Is it too much?” He feels a tinge of insecurity. Is he overcompensating?

“If you were anyone else… maybe. But you’re not. You’re… you.” She doesn’t need to explain any further. He doesn’t need her to.

Back on shore, he swiftly gets the canoe into the water and climbs in, extending his hand to help her. She’s a little wobbly at first but manages finally, taking a seat on one of the slats as he begins to row them towards the center of the lake.

They can see the lake house in the distance, its glow from the strung-up lights twinkling. There’s the faint sounds of firecrackers and the flashing of some sparklers that is oddly comforting to her.

“Got the best view out here. Skies are clear tonight, too,” he says, looking up. She follows his gaze, stars littered along the black sky.

The first firework is set off, bright colors exploding in the air with a loud boom.

She’s captivated by it, her eyes wide with awe, while his focus remains entirely on her. Always so beautiful, he pinches himself subtly to ensure this isn’t some dream. The fireworks cast a kaleidoscope of colors over her face, highlighting the joy and wonder in her expression.

Women like Paloma are a rare treasure. They often find themselves with people who dim their spirit or buried in places like Seminary. It’s why he has to change, to be better for himself. But most importantly, for her. She deserves everything—the world, the universe. He’ll do whatever it takes to give it to her.

“Oh my god, that one looks like there are stars explodin’ from it!” She exclaims, pointing excitedly at a particularly dazzling firework. 

He finally tears his gaze from her, following her finger to the sky where a large burst of sparks erupts. The explosion of light is breathtaking, but nothing compared to the woman beside him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty amazing,” he murmurs, though his eyes drift back to her. The illuminations dance across her features in a way that makes his heart burn with a fierce protectiveness and desire.

She catches him staring and grins, tilting her head. “You’re not even watchin’ the fireworks.”

“I’m watching something even more beautiful,” he replies smoothly and earnestly. His flirting makes her giggle, having her look away bashfully.

“Smooth talker,” she teases, but there’s no denying the pleasure his words bring her. Even if they’re simple and cliché as all hell. She shifts closer to him, the canoe rocking gently beneath them. The proximity is intoxicating, warmth radiating from their damp bodies as her naked thigh brushes against his.

“Just tellin’ the truth,” he replies, his hand finding hers. Their fingers intertwine, and the touch sends electric sparks through both of them, more charged than any firework.

“I’d be a fool not to appreciate what’s right in front of me.”

Paloma feels the intensity of his gaze, his eyes roaming her face as if memorizing every detail. They both can feel the pull, the magnetic attraction that has always been there.

“Seems to me you’ve been a fool once or twice before,” she says, leaning in so their noses nearly touch. “But you’re not too bad yourself.”

Oh yeah, a giant fool. Big-fucking-time.

He gives her a lazy smile, the playfulness returning to his eyes. “Not too bad, huh? I think I can work with that.”

As the fireworks continue, the sky lights up with a magnificent display, but neither looks away from the other. The booms and crackles become nothing but background noise to the silent conversation happening between their locked gazes.

They often find themselves communicating through just looks.

“I’m really glad you gave me another chance.” He voices softly.

“Me too,” she replies, matching his timbre, heart pounding in her chest. “Even if it was really hard for me to.”

“I know it was. It’s why I’m really tryin’ to prove to you that I’m serious about us.”

“Serious enough to tell my daddy?”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“When the right time comes, yes.” He’ll face Romeo, he has to if he wants to be with her. And fuck, does he.

His thumb gently strokes her knuckles, and she squeezes his fingers in response, a wordless acknowledgment of their shared feelings.

“Let’s head back. Don’t need you freakin’ out over a water snake or somethin’,” Javier says with a teasing grin, the memory of the night he snuck her back home coming to the forefront of his mind.

Paloma scoffs, pulling back from him with a roll of her eyes as he begins to row them back to shore. “Don’t ever let me find out somethin’ stupid you’re afraid of. M’never gonna let you hear the end of it.”

He chuckles in response, shrugging his shoulders. “Have fun tryin’ to figure that out.”

As soon as the canoe touches the shore, she hops off before he can securely dock it, walking out until the water is at her waist before submerging herself in it.

Javier anchors the boat and goes after her, flashing her a confused expression when she resurfaces. “Figured you wouldn’t want to be in the water when it’s so dark out.”

She runs her hands across the wet surface, looking up at the sky again; different fireworks painting the empty canvas and reflecting against the water.

“The dream I had…” She begins, “I was walkin’ along the bank of a swamp then suddenly I’m goin’ under. It’s all muddy and gross and thick–– m’strugglin’ to find somethin’ to get me out when I see it. A fuckin’ gator comin’ at me.” She shivers, the eyes of the reptile flashing across her mind, making her grimace. “The panic I felt… the fear, it was so real.”

Javier is quiet, his attention fully on her. He can see her expression, illuminated each time sparks burst above.

“Then I saw someone on land. A savior.” She pauses, tilting her head to look at him, “It was you.”

His fingers twitch at his sides and he swallows thickly, remaining silent with an unwavering gaze.

“I called out for you and you came, about to pull me out but then…” She shakes her head, looking down at the dark water. “S’like you changed your mind. Left me there ‘n the alligator got me. I woke up terrified and immediately threw up.”

Now he grimaces, feeling a deep pang of guilt. Even in her dreams he’s betraying her. He moves closer, gently urging her to look up at him. When she does, he leans forward, tenderly brushing some wet hair from her face. “I am so sorry,” he whispers, not knowing what else to say.

Her eyes search his with a small, sad smile. “S’okay, was only a dream. Jus’ wanted to tell ya about it.”

He hesitates, feeling a strong urge to be vulnerable with her, to share his own fears. He takes a deep breath, pushing away his timidness before speaking up. “I get bad dreams too. Different, but they leave me shook up just the same. Can barely sleep most nights.”

Her eyes widen a little in curiosity. “What about?”

“There was someone… back in Colombia. She was a working girl that a lot of the sicarios sought out. She became my informant, giving me valuable information in exchange for a life here in the States with her son.” His voice is low as he begins to explain.

“The lines blurred along the way. We both started catching feelings,” her breath is shaky but she listens to him with the same attentiveness in which he had listened to her, “and just when I was on the verge of figuring us out and getting a notable arrest under my belt–– they fuckin’ took her. Beat her. Assaulted her. I showed up too late. The damage had been done.” He stops, jaw clenching at the memory of that night.

The image of Helena so broken is seared into his mind. The bullet he had put in the guard’s head did nothing to erase the guilt or ease her suffering.

“That’s the nightmare that haunts me most. The one where I relive that night over and over again. The dread of not knowing where she was, the panic of storming the building, the pain of seeing what they’d done to her… the shame of knowing she was there because of me. Her and her son were put into witness protection after that, and I never saw her again.”

Paloma’s heart aches, feeling terrible for all the things she said to him in the back of his cruiser. He’s been through some unfathomable shit, and here she is, throwing it back at him because of her hurt feelings.

She grabs ahold of his hand under the water, tugging him closer. “It’s not your fault, Javi.”

“But it was my operation—”

“That’s irrelevant. You could’ve devised the perfect plan ‘n still, somehow, life woulda found a way to fuck it up.”

He just stares down at her, the moonlight and fireworks making her glow almost ethereally.

“You gotta forgive yourself for that eventually. S’the only way to get the nightmare to stop.” Easier said than done, but it’s good for him to hear this. He needs to hear this. “Bad shit was gonna happen whether you wanted it to or not. You did what you thought was right, ‘n y’all were always playin’ a dangerous game dealin’ with those folks... from the sounds of it, she was always in harms way.”

Funny how she ended up being the one to console him despite that being the opposite of his intention.

Silence envelops them as he mulls over her words and the look she’s giving him—compassionate, understanding, resolute. Her eyes, brimming with empathy, seem to penetrate the walls he’s built around his heart.

He takes a deep breath, feeling exposed. “You really believe that?”

“I do,” she replies firmly, squeezing his hand. “You can’t carry that guilt forever. You did everything you could.”

Exhaling loudly, he breaks the tension. “How much do you charge per hour?”

Paloma snorts with a shake of her head, splashing him lightly. “More than you can afford.”

Javier quirks an eyebrow playfully. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” she smirks, leaping out of his reach when he lunges forward in mock pursuit. Her playful giggles ring out, a melody that echoes across the quiet night now that the fireworks were done for.

It doesn’t take long for him to close the distance between them, his hands finding her hips and pulling her close. She spins in his arms, turning to face him, her hands resting atop his that hold her waist.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” she questions lightly, studying his handsome face.

“Like what?” he counters, his eyes tracing the curve of her cupid’s bow.

“Like you wanna kiss me.” she teases further, her hands sliding up to rest gently against his wet chest.

“‘Cause I do. Real fuckin’ bad, actually,” he confesses with desire, but also a hint of restraint.

Her breath catches slightly, she can feel his heart thudding beneath her fingertips.

“What’s stoppin’ ya?”

“Trying not to move too fast,” he admits, his grip on her hips tightening ever so slightly, gaze locked on hers with an intensity that matches the flickering stars above.

She hums, tilting her head to the side then pointing her chin up to look at him. Even in the dark, she’s mesmerized by his inviting brown eyes, the silver light giving them this distinct glint that has her heart racing.

“Please do it.”

And he does, as soon as the words leave her mouth he’s leaning in to kiss her slowly. Testing the waters.

The match strikes, lighting ablaze a heated exchange of passion on each other’s lips.

The kiss deepens quickly, fueled by how fucking bad they both want this. His arms encircle her waist, pulling her flush against him as hers loop loosely around his neck. Their bodies meld together, hips pressing into hips.

Her back arches as one hand roams up, cupping the back of her head while the other digs its fingers into the plush skin of her hips. His touch is both tender and possessive, conveying a hunger that leaves her breathless.

Her tongue swipes over his bottom lip and he parts to let her in, grunting at the lingering taste of summer fruit and sweet tea. He can feel himself hardening, much to his dismay of wanting to move slow.

It takes everything in her not to rub up against him, the pressure between her thighs gaining momentum.

Their soft sighs of pleasure and the gentle sounds of their lips smacking echo in the air, she has to pull back before things are taken too far and she ends up climbing him like a tree.

“Mmm ‘kay, that’s enough.” She whispers against his lips but still goes in for one more quick peck… then another… then another.

“Sure it’s enough?” He can’t help but tease and that gets her to pull away with a quickness.

“Don’t get all cocky Peña.” She gently pushes at his chest and he raises his arms in surrender with that infamous smirk of his. She begins to waddle back to shore and his brows pull together.

“Where ya goin’?”

“Gotta take a piss.”

“Not really the sexiest thing to say to a man after you’ve left him half hard in the middle of a lake.”

“Sorry can’t hear you over me not givin’ a damn.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he follows behind her to get redressed. It was getting pretty late, and as much as he’d prefer to stay out here with her all night, he knows he still needs to tread carefully and not smother her with his attempts at affection.

Paloma haphazardly dries off as she slides on her boots and walks a reasonable distance into the surrounding woods to find a secluded spot to relieve herself.

Her lips tingle, an aftershock from that amazing fucking kiss.

She steps carefully over roots and fallen branches, not wanting to add another injury to accompany the one on her knee.

Then, amidst the quiet, a faint sound catches her attention—a wheezing noise that unsettles her. Instinctively, she freezes, her brows cinching as she strains to locate the source.

The wheezing evolves into a soft groan, coming from beyond the thick trunk of a towering tree. She can hear her heartbeat thudding in her ears as she edges around it, eyes widening in shock when they land on a figure lying in the dirt.

It’s a young girl, about her age, barely visible in the dim light filtering through the dense foliage. Blood streaks her torn clothes, and her breaths are shallow and uneven.

“Oh my god,” Paloma breathes out in horror, rushing to her side. She kneels beside her, hands trembling as she feels for a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there. “Okay, you’re goin’ to be fine just—” she urges softly, her voice tight with fear. She yells out Javier’s name in a panic, frantically scanning the girl’s injuries, trying to assess the damage as best she can.

The urgency in her tone is unmistakable, piercing through the quiet of the woods.

Javier’s head snaps to attention at the sound of her panicked voice. Dread grips him as he bolts through the underbrush, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities, none of them good.

He reaches her side in a blur of motion. “What happened?” He’s relieved to see that she’s okay, however that relief is gone the second his eyes land on the injured girl. He curses, kneeling and shifting into his authoritative nature, “Is she breathing?”

“I-I found her like this,” she explains quickly, tone trembling with emotion. “She is but barely. I think she’s been s-stabbed. We need to get her to a hospital.”

“The nearest hospital is an hour away. She won’t make it. I gotta get her to town,” Javier replies, his voice tense with determination. He scans the surrounding area, staying vigilant in case whoever did this is still lurking nearby.

“Dr. Hughes was here earlier, completely wasted. S’why she had to leave early. There’s no way she’s in any shape to deal with this now. We need to make that drive,” Paloma insists urgently, her eyes pleading with him.

“She won’t make it,” he repeats a little harsher, his jaw tense. “It’s a miracle you found her when you did. I’m takin’ her to Hughes— whether she’s drunk or not.” His tone brooks no argument, attention now shifting to the other girl.

“Alright sweetheart, I’m goin’ to lift you up and carry you to my truck, alright?” He says softly, his tone gentle as he carefully scoops her into his arms, mindful of her injuries. She responds with a faint nod, her eyes barely open as she struggles to stay conscious.

They move swiftly through the wooded area, Paloma following closely behind him as they navigate the uneven ground. Fortunately, those down by the lake are oblivious to their urgent mission, the distant noise of conversation and music low as they make their way to Javier’s truck.

At the vehicle, he carefully places the girl in the cab, Paloma attempting to climb in also but he stops her.

Javi frowns, shooting her a glare. “What the hell are you doing?” He asks incredulously.

“I’m comin’ with you,” she replies, matter-of-factly, gritting her teeth.

“Absolutely not, you’re staying here while I deal with this––” “You can either stand here ‘n argue with me while this poor girl bleeds out in your truck, or you can shut up and get to drivin’.”

She doesn’t give him time to make a choice, nudging him out of the way and hopping in, very gently placing the stranger’s head on her lap.

Javier mumbles out a litany of expletives, evidently frustrated, closing the passenger door behind her then rounding the truck to get it started.

They pull out into the main road and he reaches for his mobile phone to call Romeo at the station, clueing him in on what the fuck is going on. He doesn’t mention that Paloma is with him–– that’d only set the sheriff off and he needs him focused on sobering up the doctor, not distracted by his daughter’s unauthorized involvement.

“Hey darlin’, I’m Paloma.” She murmurs softly, brushing matted hair from her face and trying not to wince at her injuries. “We’re gonna get you some help, okay? You’re in good hands.” The girl’s left eye is swollen shut, her lip busted, her face a canvas of dirt and blood—both fresh and dried. Paloma’s stomach turns at the thought of how long she might have lain there, unnoticed and in pain.

As they speed towards town, Javier can’t help but overhear her words of comfort; her voice is sweet, all things considered, as she tries to keep the battered girl from drifting into unconsciousness.

Despite his initial exasperation over her coming along, he softens at her compassion. He knows she’s only trying to help.

When glancing over at them briefly, he sees that she’s still only in her bathing suit and boots, “There’s a flannel in the back. Put it on when we get there.” He advises, his tone calmer now. She nods in acknowledgment, eyes flickering with concern as she continues to comfort the girl in her lap.

When they finally pull up outside Dr. Hughes’s home, the doctor, her husband, and Romeo are already eagerly waiting on the porch. The sheriff’s expression is tight, his eyes narrowing as he spots Paloma in the front seat. Javier cuts the engine and hurries around to gently lift the injured girl from the truck, careful not to worsen her wounds as he takes her into his arms.

The doctor rushes forward, her professional demeanor snapping into place as she assesses her condition. “Get her inside,” she directs briskly, everyone moving to assist.

Paloma follows them into the house after slipping on his red flannel and buttoning it up halfway, her mind racing with worry and subtle guilt for having involved herself. She knows her dad is going to have questions, but she isn’t focused on that now.

She paces outside of the room they’re in, barely hearing the conversation happening on the other side.

“I can stabilize her but that’s about all I can do. She needs to go to a proper hospital,” Dr. Hughes’s voice filters through the door.

“I’ll take her. Get ahead of this thing before word spreads,” her father replies tersely.

“And your daughter?”

He sighs heavily, and Paloma’s heart sinks. “Why is she even here?” The question is directed at Javier, who stands quietly in the corner, arms crossed, thumb brushing his mustache as he stares into space. Like Paloma, he’s also covered in blood and dirt, but is unfazed by it.

“She found her out there and insisted on tagging along,” he answers truthfully. There’s a moment of tense silence. “I’ll make sure she makes it back home alright. What’s important now is her. Her injuries match that of the other victims. It had to have been the same person. We need her conscious and talking as soon as possible.”

Paloma stops pacing, her mind reeling with the implications of what they’re saying. She can’t bring herself to keep listening, now feeling a twinge of fear. It could have easily been her laying out on the dirt. Beaten and stabbed. Left for dead. She shivers.

She hurries down the hall to find the bathroom. The sensation of dry blood on her hands makes her skin crawl. She needs to wash it off, to do something tangible to alleviate the whiplash of her emotions.

Closing the door behind her, she turns on the tap and lets the lukewarm water run over her hands, scrubbing vigorously. The crimson stains run pink, swirling down the drain.

She leans against the sink when she’s finished, staring at her reflection in the mirror, trying to make sense of the chaotic events of the evening. How did her day go from being joyful to this? The adrenaline rush is starting to ebb, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread about what might unfold next.

Her hair is frizzy and damp from the lake water, her eyes glossed over with unshed tears she hadn’t even realized welled up. There’s blood and grime staining her midriff and parts of her bathing suit. The image reflects back a mix of concern and weariness.

A sudden knock startles her.

“You okay in there?” Javier’s voice is slightly muffled but it instantly calms her nerves.

She moves to open the door slightly, peeking up at him through the crack.

“M’not the one half dead on a bed right now,” she mutters.

He glances down the hall, ensuring they’re alone before focusing back on her. “I know, baby. She’s going to be fine. Your dad’s about to leave to take her to the hospital.”

“He’s pissed that I’m involved, ain’t he?”

He sighs, his hands falling to his hips. “Not pissed, just upset. But he’ll get over it. I’m taking you home, so whenever you’re ready, I’ll be outside.”

Paloma nods, grateful for him as he’s her anchor in all this turmoil. She closes the door, leaning her back against it and taking some deep breaths, composing herself before stepping out. She’s still a little shaky, but knowing she did all that she could brings a small measure of solace.

Back out on the porch, her father and Javier both turn to look at her. Romeo eyes the flannel on her shoulders then flicks his gaze over to his deputy sheriff warily. Whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t voice out loud.

“How you holdin’ up?”

“I’m fine,” she replies, her voice steady though her eyes betray lingering worry.

Her dad walks over to her, enveloping her in a brief hug before pulling back, hands settling on her shoulders. “Lock all the doors when you make it home. You know where the key to the gun safe is?”

“Daddy don’t be ridiculous…” She begins to protest, but the serious look in his eyes stops her short. She swallows hard, “Yes, I know where it is.”

“Good. I’ll have one of the deputies posted out front of the house. Who knows if this fucker was lingerin’ around when you found her. M’not riskin’ it.”

All she does is nod while he places a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She looks over his shoulder at Javier who’s doing a piss poor job of acting like he’s not listening in on them.

They lock eyes briefly, his expression a mix of concern and reassurance. The sheriff’s caution is warranted. The extra surveillance on her honestly makes Javi feel more at ease, too.

Ensuring that the girl is settled as comfortably as possible in the back of her father’s cruiser, he wastes no time–– lights flashing and sirens blaring as he speeds off towards the hospital.

Dr. Hughes joins them on the porch not long after, “You hurt, darlin’?” She asks and Paloma shakes her head. They say their goodbyes and Javier thanks the married couple for their help.

Back in his truck, it’s quiet minus the murmur of the radio as they drive along the backroads. She stares out of the rolled-down window, lost in thought.

“I hope she makes it out okay,” She finally breaks the silence, her voice laden with concern.

Javier glances over before reaching out to place a reassuring hand on her thigh, squeezing gently. “She’ll be fine. Don’t stress over this, hermosa, por favor.”

She nods hesitantly, appreciating his comfort but unable to shake off the nerves. The image of her beaten face and fragile state is etched vividly in her memory.

First the old man, now her.

As they approach her house, Paloma thinks of her father’s stern warning and the precautions he insisted on.

“Can you come back later?” She blurts out, tugging at the hem of his shirt out of nervousness.

Javier purses his lips, rubbing at his eyebrow. He can feel the migraine slowly winding up. “I wish. Gotta head back out to the lake to oversee everything while your dad’s at the hospital.” It’s going to be a long night.

Her heart sinks, but she understands. This is his job after all. He’s more use out there than he is staying here to comfort her. She rubs at her eyes, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her, yet she knows sleep will be elusive tonight. The fear that someone might be coming after her is too intense.

She really hopes this doesn’t trigger another nightmare. She’ll stay up all night to prevent it from happening if she has to.

“Hey, c’mere,” he undoes his seatbelt then hers once they’re parked, bringing her closer to him, not giving a damn that they’re both dirty. “If it were up to me, I’d stay with you all night. I’ll make sure they send someone with some fuckin’ sense out here to look after you.” His hand comes up to cup her jaw, lowering his face to hers and she pouts softly.

“Even though I know you’re more than capable of handlin’ yourself.”

It’s true, but it’s the principle of it. The fact that they even have to worry about this. Still, she gives him a tight smile.

“I had a really great time with you today.” She whispers, nuzzling against the large palm that’s now against her cheek, his thumb stroking her soft skin.

“Me too, palomita. I always have a great time when I’m with you. Love seein’ that pretty smile.” Her heart flutters and she bites her lip, his dark eyes dropping to her mouth as she does.

They both lean in at the same time, sharing a slower, more tender kiss. Neither of them wanting to pull away yet knowing they have to. There are more pressing matters at hand.

After a few more minutes of getting lost in each other, he pulls back and nudges his nose against hers. “Go on now, cariño. I’ll see you soon as I can.”

She pouts again, leaning in to kiss him one final time before sliding away and reaching for the door handle.

“Wait,” he stops her, leaning over to open the glove box and pulling out one of his updated cards—the one with his new mobile number on it.

“You call me if you need anything at all. Doesn’t matter what it is. I’ll answer.”

She takes the small card between her fingers, looking up at him. “Anythin’?” she asks for clarification.

“Anything.” His voice is firm, eyes locking onto hers, making sure she knows he means it.

This brings her comfort, but she won’t bother him while he’s in the middle of dealing with everything. Not unless she has to. “Okay. Be safe, Javi.”

“You too, palomita. Lock the doors and try to get some rest.”

She steps out of the truck, watching as he drives off into the night, a mixture of fear and warmth lingering in her chest. She knows he’ll be back as soon as he can, but for now, she has to be strong for herself. She heads inside, locking the door behind her, the small card still clutched in her hand.

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Title: Nicotine & Chanel

Characters: Jason Todd and Female!xReader.

Warnings: None, mentions of smut?

________

When you had met Jason, the two of you were polar opposites. You were sophisticated, dressed up, and looked well put together every single day. Jason was reckless, and had a go with the flow attitude. He was the epitome of “walk to the beat of your own drum.”

He was dangerous in the eyes of your family and friends. Jason didn’t belong in your social group, and you didn’t belong in his. However, that didn’t stop the two of you from being together.

When you brought him to different events with your socialite group, everyone would stare as the two of you walked in together. But you held your head high, and smiled at the thought of Jason’s arm wrapped around your waist.

Your parents questioned your choice of continuing this relationship, but you didn’t pay any mind to them. Jason was different around you, he was kind, caring, and a complete gentleman. But he also had his fiery side, which you adored. He didn’t treat you like a fragile of porcelain like past lovers had.

Mornings that were once filled with brunches, were now filled with sleeping in late, and feeding your need to be with Jason.

He was addicted to you; much like his addiction to nicotine. He had no intention of giving you up, and he would always find a chance to get you alone.

In a past relationship, you would have complained about the cigarette smell, but now you loved it. When he would light up that Marlboro cigarette, sometimes you would take a hit off of it. Your lips would stain the cigarette, but he didn’t mind. He actually thought it was sexy.

Jason loved everything about you. From your legs, to your face, and to your hair. He loved every inch of you and praised you almost every night. You were his new addiction, and he was by far, more addicted to you than his pack of cigarettes.

Whenever the two of you went somewhere together, the two of you left an aroma of Chanel No. 5 and nicotine behind. It wasn’t a bad cigarette smell; it was combination of new leather and a hint of nicotine. And Jason loved the scent you would leave behind in his bed. The smell was sexily intoxicating.

One day, he stood in your bathroom as he lit a cigarette. You were getting ready for another gala event, and you were combing through your hair.

“Marva doesn’t like it when you smoke in the apartment.” You say and Jason smiled. “Yeah, your maid seems to hate me for some reason.”

You picked up your bottle of your Chanel perfume, and sprayed a generous amount to your skin. Jason put out his cigarette onto the marble counter, “That’s one reason she doesn’t like you.” You say with a smile, and it only took him a few strides to get to you.

His hand went to your hip, and his other hand went to your chin. Jason inhaled your scent, and gently caressed your bottom lip with his thumb. “I think this should be our signature scent.” He said and you looked up into his eyes.

“And what would that be?” You asked and Jason pressed a slow, but bruising kiss to your lips. It was slow, and he gently bit onto your bottom lip.

“Nicotine and Chanel.” He whispered against your lips. You pulled away, “So I’m not the only one that it turns on?” You asked with a coy smile.

Jason picked you up and sat you down on the counter top. “No. It’s intoxicating. And in a good kind of way.” He said as his lips explored your neck.

His hand trailed up the slit of your dress, “How important is this gala to you?” He asked while teasing you with his finger tips.

You moaned at the feeling of his finger tips running along your laced panties. “Not very.” Jason pressed kisses from your knee cap up to your thigh, and his tongue began to trace its way up to where you need him most.

After on final kiss, he stood up. “Well, we better go so your parents don’t think I’m a bad influence.” He said as he fixed his tie, and pulled back down your dress.

Throwing your head back, you sighed. “C’mon Jay. Let’s just stay here and we can-”

“Not right now, Princess. We have a gala to attend.” He said as he helped you down from the counter top.

He pulled you close to his body, “Maybe we can find a broom closet to get lost in.” He said before leaving you to stand in the bathroom alone.

_____

I hope you guys enjoyed that short x reader. Thanks for reading!

Xoxo

[ms--lobotomy]

Since you tagged me in this poll I feel the need to answer with my thoughts for all of them. You know, for funsies.

40k Guilliman: pretty good option. He’s (somewhat) mentally stable and has talked it out with you beforehand. Though I am curious on where he acquired primarch-grade bondage equipment. Is that why it was planned months in advance? Was he spending all that time just trying out different kinds of ropes and chains that could hold him like some sort of kinky parody of Fenrir from norse mythology?? Also, he deserves sex that has him relax and not possibly shatter his partner’s pelvis, let that man rest. 8/10.

Corrupted Horus: We all enjoy a very evil and very charismatic man from time to time. And the chaos gods which are currently kinda wearing Horus’ body like a condom are one of the options presented in this poll. But before your mind gets carried away with the fantasy of hot mean DILF, we have to think: He’s still a DILF. And so his taste in music will be that of a Dad. So get ready for him to blast Imagine Dragons while sexily taking his shirt off. You plead for him to strip faster, not because you’re horny but because you hope that when he does so he’ll turn the rock & roll cover of Thunder off and fuck you properly. He won’t. 1/10.

Jaghatai: No words other than those of approval. No thoughts other than those of lust. 9/10.

Ferrus Manus pre-heresy: Not sure why you specified pre-heresy but maybe I don’t have enough imagination for a post-heresy lewding scenario, but I digress. So I feel that the sex wouldn’t be the main draw of the situation here, instead it’s more to do with trying to make a guy feel better about a body part that he wants to peel his metal-skin off of. Ferrus is a dude that has simultaneously given all of his children body dysmorphia (that they try to fix by replacing their body parts with tech) while also wanting to get rid of the most technological part of himself. And he won’t even tell people a direct answer about where he got the technological metal hands from anyway. This man is an enigma and the sex is just a backdrop for the true scenario; which is the Ferrus Manus character exploration that’s going on. So to judge purely by the sex itself it’s a solid 5/10.

Daemon Magnus: This dude will not only do all of what you specified. But he’ll also add Gale from bg3 astral plane type sex into the mix. The only limit is your imagination Babey!!! 11/10 (he may have used his psychic powers to mess with the rating).

Leman Russ: What’s not to love about a big scary man in a collar? What’s not to love about a living war machine getting restrained like they’re a simple animal?? Though him eventually breaking out of it would imply that my skills in Husband husbandry are poor, and that might make me kind of sad. 7/10 (would change it to 8/10 if you also put a muzzle on him)

Pre-Heresy Fulgrim: The number one rule of kink fantasy is that nothing will work out as perfectly as you want it to, something will always go differently than it did in your imagination because, fun fact, your partner is not a mind reader (and even if they were it’s not like they can control every action/reaction they do/have). If you fuck him he will be very very very disappointed in you and will act like a bitch about it. 3/10 (the sex stops midway through because you ruined his expectations too many times).

Rogal Dorn: The way im about to sexualise that middle aged man. Oh boy… well first of all I’ll- [REDACTED BY THE INQUISITION. SUMMONS A DAEMON OF SLAANESH IF THE TEXT IS READ OUT LOUD]. 9.5/10.

30k Corvus Corax: Now while he can’t be perceived, I can. In fact I am very perceivable. Unlike Corvus’ furtive emo outfits my fashion sense consists of wearing the most sparkly and shiny accessories all the time and in very large quantities. I dress as though I’m trying to sound like one of santa’s reindeer or a sentient human windchime. And my penchant to talk very loudly knows no bounds. So combining his extreme stealth with my extreme unstealth gives us the average of The Normal Amount Of Noticeability. Which would get us both arrested for indecent exposure. 0/10 because i don’t want to go to jail.

Sanguinius: also a pretty good option. Though I question how a man who had big issues with being deified by the mortal populace would feel about having his more “angelic” features worshipped. But I’m sure I can make it work. 7.5/10.

In conclusion: the vote goes to Magnus, but if he wasn’t there then Dorn would be attaining the title of “babygirl” real fucking fast.

Time to /finally/ answer some asks. This isn't a knock on you by any means, or anyone who's sent asks. I'm just not very good at it lol

Robby G: Listen. L i s t e n. This man is 1. the type to have a schedule for sex (nothing wrong with that if thats what people are into) and 2. the type to take it in the butt. He deserves it in the butt. Yes, he is a space war criminal. But wouldn't it be nice to put it in him?

Horse: I'm sorry, the image of an Imagine Dragons striptease is... enlightening as to the individual Horus is. He's the dad that hosts the barbecue parties. He's the dad that falls asleep watching TV. Hell, he probably wears Hawaiian shirts. (That last one's got me bricked up. Shit)

Jagh: This one got me. He fucking would be into leather, be it on him or his partner. May write a fic about it in the future. Dead serious

Ferrus: Ok, I'll admit it, this one was self-indulgent for me. Yes, Ferrus is an ass in canon. I also want him so bad, and that also entails helping him through some shit. (It's the "I can fix him" instinct.) Also, if his partner isn't ok with 17 inches, that's understandable. (Also also, I specified pre-Heresy because him coming back headless horseman style is kind of a pipe dream of mine)

Mags: Monsters are hot. Next guy

Russ: This one was a bit of a gift for my Russ fucker friend. You know who you are! And if you're a Russ fucker anyways, please be my friend

Fulgrim: This man has been through so many partners and he still doesn't understand kink very well, bless his heart. He's still gotta make sure everything goes the way he thought it would, otherwise what's even the point? Mm. Maybe he can be put with someone who makes him realize that it doesn't need to be that way.. ;v

Doorknob: Go ahead, sexualize the brick wall man. Put him in a maid dress. He'd like his partner to be a little rough, especially during... ahem. Encounters. Remember the Rogal Dorn position? Maybe not all the time, but fuck, this man needs to take it like his life depends on it.

Corax: Not for everyone, I get it. Especially if your clothes are like that. I applaud your fashion sense, you dress how I've always wanted to. But that fic's still rattling around in my mind. Thank you Raven Lady we all say in unison

Sang: You raise a very good point. I don't know how comfortable he'd be with focus on his more non-human qualities. But it can work. I have faith in you, battle brother.

[voxofthevoid]

Hi, can I ask from both ask game :

https://www.tumblr.com/threecheersforinking/677824836625694720/anime-ask-game?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/rafael-silva/90297624190/send-me-a-fandom?source=share

For anime/manga : Jujutsu Kaisen.

Thanks ⭐

For a hot second, I thought I'd reblogged an ask game and forgotten about it 😂

The first one

Favorite Character: Itadori Yuuji. I've talked quite a lot about why I like him so much over the years. Here are a couple of the most recent ones: discussion of 265 and 266, some thoughts on pre-canon Yuuji.

Favorite Arc/Episode/Scene: The Shibuya Incident. I love how it brings together several of the plot threads laid until that point, but mostly, I love how it handles various characters and relationships, especially regarding Yuuji.

Character I Think is Underrated: Kenjaku, I think. They have their fans, but since they're wearing one of the most popular characters in the series (Getou), a lot of people seem to bury their personality and quirks to either make them a one-dimensional villain or turn them into Getou Lite.

Character I Think is Overrated: Getou Suguru. I understand his appeal, and he's definitely an interesting character. But people give his ideology and his rationale for it far too much respect and leeway. It's idiotic, impractical, and a sign of trauma more than thought, which makes perfect sense from his subjective perspective, but I see far too much of it being treated as logical or even ideal by JJK fans.

Favorite Ship/Pairing: Gojou/Yuuji—here's a post where I go into why I like and ship it. It's from May 2023, and I've added far more fuel into my goyuu flame since then, but the fundamentals remain the same.

Something I Love About the Show/Movie: The characters and character dynamics, definitely. The worldbuilding is interesting, but its greatest appeal lies in how it facilitates rich character exploration. The plot quality is...inconsistent, to put it mildly, and the ending doesn't even remotely live up to the build-up, which retroactively fucks with the whole thing.

The second one

The first character I first fell in love with: Yuuji!

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Kenjaku, my MILF of the millennium

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: Getou? But JJK is very much a series where there's no such thing as "a character everyone else loves." Everyone has lovers and haters.

The character I love that everyone else hates: Uh, Mei Mei? I wouldn't say I love her, but I find her entertaining, incestuous child predation included. Like above though, she's got plenty of fans.

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: Nobody, really. Characters I loved, I still love. Some characters I merely liked fell into the shitlist due to fandom behavior (Getou) or I started liking them a little less due to canon (Megumi and Nobara), but I haven't changed my mind drastically about anyone.

The character I would totally smooch: Nearly all of them. JJK designs are hot.

The character I’d want to be like: None of them! I like my sanity and insanity as they currently are.

The character I’d slap: Like...sexily or seriously? Well, Sukuna for both! That belly mouth could use a few smacks.

A pairing that I love: Gojou/Yuuji (it's done things to me no ship ever has before)

A pairing that I despise: Gojou/Sukuna (yes, I find even satosugu better than sukugo)

Thanks for asking!