#cross posting the same thing is quite tedious

[harundraws]

another commission art i forgot i never shared over on tumblr

a pouty Jackie wearing one of Shauna’s flannels for @/demon32835 ⁎⁺˳✧༚

[pedrospatch]

Just Friends

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

Part 2

Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. reader is in late 20’s; reader is an agent for the DEA; established friendship, idiots in love lust, overprotective/slightly jealous Javi; Javi is his canon manwhore self, reader is a virgin, talks of virginity loss and her desire for no strings attached sex, a bit of pining and yearning, lots of pet names, a couple insults, friendship fluff; touching, groping, dry humping, reader gets off, Javi does not. I know, I know. I will make it up to him in part dos. this does not follow the timeline of the show accurately, Messina is in the picture, Connie is still around. reader is bilingual, no descriptions of her race or ethnicity mentioned though. *translations at the end.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: This took me forever to edit and post because I’m scared lmao.

thank you to @cutesyscreenname for encouraging me to write this idea. I owe you cherry gansitos!

You observed your own reflection in the full length mirror in front of you and let out a curious little hum as you lifted the short, scarlet red minidress, holding it right up against the length of your body. You then held up the second dress that you had clutched in your opposite hand, a stunning, satin black midi number whose length was a lot longer than the first option, the hem of it falling down to your calves.

It appeared rather innocent, modest enough while it was still on the plastic hanger, but it fit you beautifully, just like a fucking glove. The bodice of the garment cinched at your waist and it was tightly fitted, hugging the curves of your upper body so closely that it looked and even felt like something of a second skin whenever you wore it. The billowy skirt of the dress flowed out around you, darling and sweet at first glance, however it came with a borderline dangerous slit in the side of it that stopped about two or three inches above the middle of your thigh near the hinge of your hip. It exposed the entire length of your leg whenever you walked, danced, or moved around in it—Murphy had once referred to it as the infamous femme fatale dress, telling you that it was a far, far more dangerous weapon than your gun could ever be. 

You were fairly certain his remarks had something to do with the fact that you’d worn the dress on a number of different occasions while you were out on the job, going undercover in Bogotá for the US Drug Enforcement Administration. 

As the only female agent on her team in Colombia and a younger, very beautiful female agent at that, Messina found herself using you to her advantage quite often these days. She would send you out all over Bogotá in that very same black dress with the hope that it would aid you in luring in members of the Medellín drug cartel in efforts to capture their leader, Pablo Escobar.

Tonight, however, you weren’t going undercover.

You were doing something much more frightening than mingling among some of Colombia’s most dangerous men. 

Far, far more daunting than that.

You were going out on a date. 

“I like the red dress the best,” Javier’s deep voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He had mentioned to you earlier that day that he was going to some lounge with Murphy for a smoke and some drinks after work hours since it had been a long, draining week for him at the office; Messina had stuck him with an endless amount of tedious paperwork to do and it had just about driven him insane, but nothing a pack of cigarettes and some bourbon couldn’t fix. With the soft, Latin cumbias playing from the old stereo perched on top of the white oak dresser beside you, you had completely missed the sound of the front door opening and closing when he’d gotten home.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there in the open doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Javier’s dark brown eyes were fixed intently on you, a small, devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he casually leaned up against the door frame of your bedroom. Well, technically, it was actually the guest bedroom of his apartment unit that he’d let you take over several months ago. The housing department of the agency had placed you into a unit in the building across the street from his, right next door to Murphy and his wife, Connie. It had been a special arrangement requested by your diligent supervisor in an effort to make sure that no one found themselves in a compromising situation—she trusted you enough not to get any dumb ideas, but she didn’t trust Peña as far as she could throw him. It wasn’t very far.

While it had certainly been quite nice, and even kind of comforting at times to have Steve and Connie as your neighbors, you’d expressed to Javier one night over dinner at his place that you weren’t all too fond of having to live alone. Without an ounce of hesitation on his part, Javi offered to have you move into his spare bedroom that very same evening after you were both done eating, but only on the condition that Messina didn’t find out about the new living arrangement. She would wring Javier’s neck with her bare hands if knew that you two had been sharing his apartment this entire time. 

Hell, she would wring yours too. And you were the favorite child of sorts. Less annoying than Murphy and certainly a lot less problematic than Peña. 

She only liked you because she never had to worry about you. On or off the job.

But even though you were Messina’s number one, her star player, that would do absolutely nothing to spare you from her wrath if she ever came to find out that you were living with Javier Peña. She wasn’t a fan of just how close the two of you had become over the last several months; she’d told you herself that she much preferred it if you kept your distance from him while you were off duty. One wrong move on your part or Javi’s and it was game fucking over. Messina wouldn’t hesitate to send one of your asses packing, back home to be assigned somewhere else, somewhere far away from the other.

Pursing your lips together lightly, you turned your attention back over to the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, you lifted the red minidress up against your body once more to get another good look at it, as if you hadn’t just been staring at it for the last five minutes before he’d appeared. “I don’t know, Javi. I don’t like this one all that much to be honest. I’m not even sure why the hell I let Connie talk me into buying it in the first place. She said it was cute,” You remarked, tilting your head slightly to the side. You wrinkled your nose at the diamond cut out design in the sides of it. Whoever designed it must have not had enough money to spring for more a teensy bit more fabric. “But it’s kind of tacky. And it makes me look like a whore.”

“Mm yes, but a very beautiful whore,” Javi stated, his smirk widening as he drank in the gorgeous sight of you before him. He licked his lips, openly admiring the way you were clad in nothing but one of his shirts, his pink button up with short sleeves that you had once told him you loved so much because it was your favorite color; you’d sneakily stolen it out of his closet on laundry day a couple weeks back while all of your clothes had been in the washing machine and had never given it back to him. Not that Javier even really wanted it back at this point—his shirt looked a million times better on you than ever it did on him. Seeing you in it did inexplicable things to him and he fucking loved it when you padded around your now shared apartment in nothing but a pair of panties and his pink shirt. He took another glimpse at you, nearly foaming at the mouth at how it fit your frame, how the hem of it fell to the tops of your smooth thighs, the material hardly doing anything to cover up the tantalizing curves of your hips and your perfect ass. “Hermosura. The most beautiful whore in all of Colombia.”

You narrowed your eyes at him through the mirror, wishing you had a free hand you could flip him off with. “Gee, thanks for the compliment, Peña. You are always such a fucking charmer, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on. Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. I’m just messing around with you. You know I don’t think you actually look like a whore—and trust me, I know what a whore looks like,” he responded with a deep and hearty laugh. He uncrossed his arms, allowing them to fall down to his sides as he pushed himself away from the door frame. He sauntered his way further into your bedroom, uninvited. “I’m being serious about the dress, though. Go with the red one. El vestido rojo. It’s perfect. Besides, that color would look gorgeous on you, cariño. I bet it would look almost as good on you as pink does.” He laughed again as he added, “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Your annoyed expression immediately softened into one of guilt. “I’ve been meaning to give you your shirt back,” You told him, sheepishly. “Te lo juro, Javi.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Javier snorted, waving off the little white lie. He finally forced himself to tear his attention away from you and glanced around, observing the current state of your room instead. It looked like a tornado had hit the inside of your closet; dresses, jackets, and high heeled shoes were strewn all over the place. He wasn’t all too surprised by the mess. He knew you like he knew the back of his own hand by now, and this was typical of you when you were searching for the perfect outfit to wear on a free night out in the city. “I don’t remember you telling me you had any plans tonight, bonita. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with the chismosas of the office? Or are you going out for a girl’s night with Connie?”

You momentarily hesitated.

“Actually, I have a date.”

Through the mirror, you saw the smile fade from Javier’s face almost instantly.

Here we go, You thought inwardly to yourself.

“You have a date? With who?” he demanded. 

Reluctantly, you turned around to face him. “You know Valeria, don’t you?”

The color drained from his face.

“That’s the translator who works up on the third floor, right?” He touched his hand to the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around a couple of times.”

You almost laughed at the manner in which Javier tried playing dumb. 

Of course he knew Valeria. 

He had fucked her three weeks ago.

Javi had tried to keep it on the down low, but loud mouthed Valeria would brag to anyone who would listen all about how Agent Peña had fucked her in her office one evening while they’d been working late together and everyone else had gone home. Not that Javier even needed her services as a translator, he’d just needed an excuse to find himself in her office after hours so he could get his dick wet.

For some strange reason, you felt oddly fucking generous and decided to let Javier have this one, playing along with him and his sheer stupidity. “Yeah, her. She has an older brother who’s visiting the city for a few days. His name is Diego. He’s an immigration attorney who is here on business in Bogotá. She offered to set me up with him,” You explained, keeping everything as brief as possible. “I’m meeting him for drinks tonight.”

Javier frowned. “Have you met him in person?”

“Well no, but Valeria showed me his picture and she told me all about him. It’s not like he’s just some random ass guy I met on the street, Javi. He’s her brother, she advocated for him,” You tried to reason with him, knowing all too well where this conversation was heading. Sure, it was nice to know that Javier cared about you enough to be concerned about you meeting up with someone who was essentially a complete stranger, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself. You’d spent many evenings sitting right in the laps of the violent criminals who worked for Escobar—a blind date with a coworker’s brother was nothing for him to make a fuss over. “I really don’t think that I have anything to worry about with him.”

He rigidly shook his head. “Look, no offense to Valeria, but I don’t like the idea of you running around this city at night with some fucking prick that you’ve never even met before. And before you throw all that undercover bullshit at me, just know that it’s not the same thing. You aren’t going out on the job tonight. You’re not going out with your team on standby to watch your back, you’re not going out with me and Murphy armed and ready to jump into action if things head south. What if something happens to you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the complete and utter ridiculousness of his drama king antics. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Peña. Diego’s not a member of the fucking cartel, he’s a lawyer. And besides that, you’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.”

“Listen, I know damn good and well that you can take care of yourself just fine, muñeca. But still, that doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole arrangement.” Javier’s hands went to his waist and he let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head once again. “I’m going to need to meet this guy before you go out with him. I don’t care whose fucking brother he is—whichever way you try to spin it, the bottom line is that he’s a still a fucking stranger and I want to check him out for myself before I let you go out with him.” He saw the mischievous twinkle in your eyes and peered at you suspiciously. “Please tell me he’s coming to pick you up here at the apartment.”

You laughed. “Of course not, Javi. I’m not stupid. I already knew you would behave like this. I knew you would go straight into overprotective mode, just like you always do. I didn’t want you scaring him off, so I’m taking a taxi cab and we’re meeting up at the bar instead.” You easily clocked the all too familiar glint in his eye and smiled sweetly at him. “And don’t even think about trying to guess which one it is so that you can show up and keep tabs on me the whole night. There are thousands of bars in this damn city and I can promise you that you’re not smart enough to figure out which one we’re going to, Agent Peña.”

Annoyed by the smugness in your tone and the way it was starting to get under his skin, Javier’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He watched you walk over to your closet, subtly swaying your hips to the music as you pulled out yet another dress to add to your rapidly growing list of options.

He could feel the envy prickling at each and every last single nerve ending in his entire body, his frustrations stewing at the mere thought of you going out with another man. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to shove the feeling down knowing damn well that he didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not when you two weren’t anything more than just friends.

If you’d just been a coworker, it would be different. 

Javier would gladly, happily, risk mixing business with pleasure as he had so often done in the past with several secretaries—and a translator or two—in his time. But no matter how hard he’d tried over and over again to place you into that box, into that category, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

You weren’t just his coworker, you were his friend.

His best friend.

For as much shit as he gave you, you mattered to him. You were important to him, way too important to ever risk fucking up your friendship by fucking you. 

Still. Javier would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it. He thought about it all the damn time. When he discovered that fucking himself into the palm of his hand and moaning your name quietly over and over again under his breath didn’t quite do the job for him anymore, he would find himself standing outside of your bedroom prepared to say fuck it all and make his move on you. But then it happened every single fucking time without fail—as soon as he lifted his curled fist to knock on your door, he started to remember things. 

He’d remember the way you could so easily make him laugh with your clever and quick witted sense of humor. He remembered all those late nights you two would spend together lounging on his brown leather couch in your pajamas watching old, poorly made slasher films while indulging in the greasiest, unhealthiest takeout Bogotá had to offer. He remembered how you could read him just like a fucking magazine, how you always knew when something was wrong—and how you would always somehow know exactly what to say and do to comfort him whenever he needed it the most.

He would remember how you’d come to feel like his home away from home. 

And then he would drop his hand right back down to his side, whirl around on his heel, and march straight back into his bedroom where he had little choice but to go back to fantasizing about what could never be between you and him.

Snapping himself out of his own train of thought, Javier carefully stepped over the mountains of clothing and shoes on the floor and made his way over to another pile of dresses that were draped over the foot of your bed. He caught a glimpse of the lingerie set on top of them, brand new with the price tag still attached to the fabric; the set was black, made of delicate, see through lace that would leave very little to the imagination when you put it on. He picked up the thong, hooking the thin elastic of it around his index finger. “Something tells me that you’re not planning on coming back home tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Confused, you turned around and gasped, dropping the dresses in your hands. “Javier!”

“Are these even going to cover anything up?” he teased you with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement as they darted between the thong and the lower half of your body. “Falta mucha tela, cariño.”

You rushed up to him and made a dive for the underwear. “Give me those!”

“How come you don’t ever wear anything like this around the apartment, hermosa?” Javi dangled them above your head and out of your reach. “All I ever get to see you in are those cotton panties, the ones with polka dots on them.” He glanced down, getting an eyeful of you and the aforementioned polka dot panties. “Kind of like the ones you’re wearing now—”

“Javier, cut it out!” You placed a hand on his shoulder as the other continued grabbing for the lingerie. “Come on, stop being such a fucking asshole!”

Although he could have easily enjoyed taunting you for hours and hours on end, Javier knew you wouldn’t hesitate to have your knee meet his balls. Not wanting to risk ending up on your floor curled up in pain, he eased up and handed them over to you. 

“Idiota!” You hissed at him, furiously snatching the underwear out of his hand. You stomped over to your dresser and shoved them into the middle drawer, slamming it closed so hard the old stereo nearly went crashing to the floor. “You can be a real fucking douchebag, Peña.”

Javier wasn’t bothered by the insults; he’d grown used to those—however any trace of playfulness vanished as the reality began to set in for him. The reality of you sleeping with another a man tonight. “Wait a minute, are you really planning to fuck the guy?” He didn’t even make the attempt to mask the disappointment that laced his tone. “I mean, you haven’t even met him yet. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, querida.”

“You sound awful judgmental for someone who brings home a different escort every other fucking week,” You snapped at him, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, and speaking of escorts, I had the pleasure of meeting Alessandra in the bathroom this morning. She asked if I had a tank top that she could borrow since apparently you got too eager and ripped her shirt off last night.” You tilted your head, squinting at him as he started shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “If you happen to go back to her for a second round, tell her that I want it back. Washed.”

Javier grimaced, looking down at the floor. “Shit. I thought she would be gone by the time you woke up,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Lo siento, bonita. I’m sorry.”

You blinked. “Sorry for what?”

He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

Javier wasn’t all too sure, actually.

He didn’t have anything to apologize for, not really.

He was a single man who could do as, and who, he pleased.

Yet he still felt like a pile of dog shit knowing you’d encountered Alessandra while he had still been asleep.

You would never admit it, but Javier knew that to some extent, it hurt you to run into the women he would bring home. As if having to hear him railing them on the other side of your bedroom wall for hours wasn’t bad enough, having to meet them the following morning and seeing them half naked with their smeared makeup and disheveled hair from the previous night’s activities only made it so much fucking worse. 

Having read his mind, you sighed and offered him some reassurance. “It’s fine, Javi. We both know that you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You said, prompting him to look back up at you. You pointed a finger at him. “I do want my shirt back, though. And then maybe I’ll be nice and give you back yours.” 

You expected Javi to scamper off to his room with his tail between his legs in shame. It was what he usually did—he’d avoid you for about a few hours until the dust settled, and then everything would go back to normal. Instead of running off, he stood there and spoke again. 

“Are you really going to have sex with this guy?”

You tried to ignore how disheartened he sounded.

“I don’t know,” You confessed, quietly. “I want to have sex with him, but I don’t know if I’ll actually have the fucking balls to go through with it.”

“Por qué? Estas nerviosa?”

Though Javier hadn’t been poking fun at you, you couldn’t help but feel irritated with him for asking you if you were nervous; because you actually were nervous, and him asking you only made you even more fucking nervous. “And so what if I am a little nervous?” You challenged him, lightly. “Sorry that we’re not all just confidently fucking our way through this city like you are, Peña.”

“When’s the last time you had sex, anyway?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s when,” You quipped.

“That’s not fair.” Javi pouted at you. “You know when the last time I had sex was.”

“Not by choice,” You retorted. “You’re right on the other side of my paper thin wall and I left my Walkman in the office.”

Javi waited expectantly for an answer. He wasn’t going to drop the subject, and you knew that.

“You’re such a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?” You muttered. Feeling a burning heat flood to your face, you decided to give him just about the most generic answer there was in order to get him off your back. “It was a long, long time ago.”

“Okay, but how long ago?” He pressed, curiously. “Are we talking weeks? Months?”

Your stomach began to churn violently, the hidden secret you’d kept to yourself for your entire adult life now at risk of being exposed. 

“I-I really don’t remember,” You stammered out in response, averting your gaze away from his. “Can we not talk about my sex life, please? Besides, it’s getting late and I still need to take a shower and get ready for my date tonight. So if you would just kindly fuck all the way off, that would be great.”

Javier took a step back and there was a very brief moment where you had been certain you’d just narrowly avoided what could have been a painful, humiliating conversation. However, just as he was about to turn to leave, Javi’s eyes widened as it slowly clicked into place for him. 

“Wait a minute—are you fucking serious?”

You groaned. “Javier, please don’t. For the sake of what’s left of my sanity, please don’t,” You nearly pleaded him, wishing that a large, Twilight Zone style swirling vortex would open up in the middle of your floor and swallow you whole. 

“You’ve never had sex before,” he realized. “Have you?”

Your face felt like it had caught on fire.

Not knowing what to say or even do, you clasped your hands together and wrung them anxiously in front of you. 

Of all the people to find out your secret, it just had to be Peña.

“Cariño, are you really a virgin?”

Surprised, you looked up at him. 

Javi wasn’t teasing you or being a dick about it.

He seemed genuinely perplexed by the fact that you’d never had sex before. Not that it made it any less mortifying.

“Yes,” You admitted, exhaling the breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. “I’m a virgin, alright? There, are you satisfied?”

“But how? Going undercover? And informants—”

Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but you don’t always have to fuck your informants to get what you need out of them, Peña. It’s not a requirement. I use my brains, not my body.” 

“You’re shaming me for using my body?” he joked lightly, hoping it would further ease the awkward nature of the conversation—for your sake, not his.

“Just a little bit.” You offered him a small, crooked smile and felt your tense shoulders finally begin to relax. “You’re probably going to think it’s stupid or maybe even crazy, but the truth is that I’ve always wanted to wait and give it to the right man. Maybe even to a man that I’m in love with. But with the way my romantic life has been going, it just seems like that’s never going to happen for me.” You shrugged. “I just want to lose it already, Javi. I’m almost in my fucking thirties—either I lose it now, or I may as well throw in the damn towel and join a convent.”

“You would look kind of cute in a nun’s habit,” Javi mused, thoughtfully.

You shot him a glare, but felt the corners of your mouth threatening to turn up into another smile. 

After a long minute, Javier broke the silence that had fallen over the both of you. “So then, Valeria’s older brother is the man you’re going to lose your virginity to? Tonight?”

“That’s the plan. He’s only here until the end of the week. It’d be no strings attached, so it works out perfectly.” You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But only if I can find the courage to actually go through with it.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Not knowing what to do.”

Javier quirked an eyebrow.  “It’s not exactly rocket science, querida.”

You resisted the sudden urge to go up to him and backhand the stupid smirk right off of his face.

“Could you please just take me seriously for one second, Peña?” You huffed out in frustration. “I’m just really fucking nervous about it, alright? What if I can’t—what if I’m not good at it?”

Javi’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth and he stifled his laughter. “Preciosa, you’re being kind of…” He trailed off, trying to choose his next word carefully.

You lifted your chin. “Kind of what?”

“Ridiculous. And before you come over here and start pummeling me to death with those little fists of yours...” He stopped and held up his hands in defense. He took a second or two to let eyes glaze over you from head to toe. “I’m only saying that because you’re fucking gorgeous, muñequita. Any man would be lucky to have a night with you. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s not about how I look, Javier. It’s about how I perform.” You felt your face grow hot for what had to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Never did you think this would be a conversation you’d be having with him of all fucking people. “I listen to the way those women you bring home—I hear what they do to you. And I hear how much you like it.”

His lips parted slightly. “And you want to do that to him?”

“I want to make him feel good.”

Javier’s jealously simmered in his veins. But what could he do?

Nothing, that’s what. Just like him, you could do as, and who, you pleased. But if he could just get his hands on you first, at least to some extent, it would help ease the blow. He saw nothing wrong with blurring the lines, so long as he didn’t cross them.

Javi hummed. “If you really want to know how to make a man feel good, I can help you.”

“You can help me?” You repeated. “How?”

“By showing you a thing or two.”

You let out something mixed between a scoff and a laugh.

“I am not having sex with you, Peña.”

He tossed you an innocent look. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all.” He crossed the bedroom and walked over to you, reaching for your hands. He took them in his own and then started pulling you towards your bed. “If you’re really that worried about not knowing what to do, I can give you a few pointers. And calmada, querida. Our clothes stay on,” he reassured you before you could open your mouth to protest. “Just think of it as a friend helping out a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

You chewed on your lower lip. “I don’t know about this, Javi.”

Javier’s thumbs softly smoothed across the back of your hands. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Right now, I’m not so sure that I do.” You paused long enough for him to throw you an exasperated, almost offended look. You rolled your eyes at him and nodded your head. “Yes, of course I trust you, Peña. I trust you with my fucking life. Literally, I put my life in your hands at least once or twice a week.”

“Then let me help you, hermosa.”

You inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled it softly. “Fine. But remember, our clothes stay on—” You were cut off, all the air leaving your lungs as Javi yanked you forward, slamming you against his chest. You looked up at him, ready to give him a piece of your mind for knocking the wind out of you, but as his eyes met yours, words failed you and all you could do was stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights. 

This could not possibly end well.

And yet here you were, going along with it.

He snaked an arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his. Feeling how tense you had become, stiff as a fucking board, Javi gave you a light shake in an effort to get you to loosen up a bit. “First thing is first, you need to relax. There’s no need to overthink this, cariño. Especially not with me.” He reached up with his opposite hand, letting his index finger feather along your jawline. He then slipped it underneath your chin, lifting it ever so slightly and forcing you to look right into his rich pools of espresso. “I mean it. It really wouldn’t take much for a beautiful girl like you to drive me—I mean, drive him wild.”

You tried your hardest to keep your voice from trembling, but between his touch and being in such close proximity, you were finding it a hell of a lot more difficult than you’d imagined. “Show me, Peña. What drives you—I mean, what’s going to drive him wild?”

“Well, it always starts with the right kiss.”

You quickly shook your head. “Javi—”

“Kiss me.”

Had he lost his fucking mind?

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” You echoed your thoughts

“Just a friend helping out a friend,” Javi reminded you in a murmur. “Remember?”

You should have said no. You should have decked him for even suggesting such a thing.

Instead, you gave him a small nod. You rested your hands delicately on his hard, lean chest and tilted your head upwards, lightly pressing your lips to his for a split second before quickly pulling away.

“There.”

“That was fucking pathetic,” Javier laughed softly, his warm breath fanning over the tip of your nose. “You’re not kissing your abuela, you know.”

You smacked his chest. “Javi! Leave my grandma out of this.”

“You have to kiss a man like you actually want him, querida. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

Your throat went dry as his grip around your waist tightened. He moved his other hand away from your chin and it went to the back of your neck, gingerly tilting your head up towards his. Your heart hammered almost painfully against your ribcage, beating way too hard and way too fast for him not to feel it against his own chest. You had to silently remind yourself to breathe as Javi inched his face closer to yours, slowly. You knew that he was doing it on purpose, moving an agonizingly glacial pace to allow your anticipation to build; all the while his dark eyes were staring deeply into the depths of your very fucking soul, causing a fire to set ablaze deep in your lower belly.

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily as the tip of his nose skimmed a spot near the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing the underside of your jawline.

God, he was fucking good. 

“Javi…” You uttered his name weakly.

You needed to stop this. Javier was your friend—friends didn’t do shit like this.

Javi sensed your reluctance. “It’s alright, mi vida,” he whispered, uttering an affectionate pet name that he’d never used before. He gave you a small grin as he moved in to finally close the small gap of space between your faces. His lips met yours and every ridiculous cliché of sparks flying and fireworks exploding occurred the moment they did. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, gently coaxing its way into your mouth to begin a slow, sensual dance with yours. Cupping the back of your neck, he tilted your head up a bit further, granting himself better access to your mouth so that he could fully explore it inch by inch. 

There was kissing other men.

And then there was kissing Javier. 

Whimpering, your body melted against his as he swelled your lips with a kiss that was slow and sensual, yet somehow still hungry and possessive at the same time. Javier’s hands travelled down to your hips, his fingers skimming the hem of his shirt that you wore. He took the opportunity to sneak them underneath the garment, allowing them to meet the warmth of your skin. 

Gasping, you jerked back and pulled away from him. 

“Javier!” You squeaked out his name breathlessly, furiously swatting his hands away from your sides. You glared at him. “I thought we agreed, our clothes fucking stay on!”

“Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was taking any of your clothes off.” Javier reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. He then took a step backwards and gestured towards your bed. “Lay down.”

Your mouth fell open at his request.

“W-what?” You sputtered out, your eyes wide. 

“You heard me. Get on the bed and lay down.”

Javi reached down, sweeping your pile of dresses off of the bed and onto the floor. 

“Why? What are you going to do?” You questioned him, shuffling anxiously from one bare foot to the other.

Javier rolled his eyes and let out a small, impatient sigh. “Just do it, hermosa. You can trust me.”

Swallowing harshly, you obeyed him and walked around to the side of your bed, taking a seat. You inhaled another deep breath before bringing your legs up and laying back, your head resting against your decorative pillows. You nervously tugged and pulled at the hem of his stolen pink shirt, trying to cover yourself up as best as you could as you laid there, sprawled out before him; however Javier had other plans. He climbed onto the bed after you, positioning his body so it hovered over yours. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, settling himself right in between your thighs. He grabbed one of your legs and hiked it up around his waist, putting the two of you in a very, very dangerous position. His fingers remained wrapped around your thigh, his touch burning right into your soft flesh as he held your leg in place around him. 

“Don’t be shy, muñequita.” His voice had gone low and husky. He trailed his hand further up your thigh.

He grinned, feeling satisfied with himself when he felt the goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Shut up, I’m not shy,” You fibbed, prompting him to chuckle.

“Mentirosa.” Javi’s hand abandoned your leg and he brought his hand up to the side of your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip. 

“Kiss me,” he commanded, gently. “And this time, kiss me like you mean it.”

You reached up for him with trembling hands and grabbed two fistfuls of his pewter blue, button up shirt. You pulled him down towards you and lifted yourself up slightly off your pillows, crashing your mouth against his. You allowed yourself to finally release any fears that you might have had before and kissed him greedily and with fervor, as if it would be the very last time you’d ever get to kiss Javier Peña—because it very well could be the last time you would ever get to kiss Javier Peña.

You kissed him deeply, going on until your lungs began to burn—you only broke away from him once they started screaming, demanding oxygen. 

Tearing yourself apart from him, you released his shirt and dropped back down onto your pillows, breathlessly asking, “Better?”

“Oh, so much better. Good girl, mi muñequita linda,” he praised, grinning again as he caressed the silkiness of your cheek. He lowered his head and lips ghosted over yours for a moment before he moved them down your neck, feathering kisses to any exposed skin peeking out from underneath his shirt. His hand found your breast and he groaned realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He kneaded the perfect, soft mound of flesh through the thin fabric, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers. He bucked his hips into yours, causing a loud moan to escape from your lips the second you felt his hardened cock through his tight, light blue jeans. He caught sight of the way you blushed at the sound that he’d elicited from you and his grin widened. “Noises like that? The louder the better. So don’t hold back, preciosa.”

“What else can I do to make you—to make him feel good?”

Javier dipped his face right into the hollow of your neck, thinking it over for a moment. “A woman who takes control can be very sexy. I like it—I bet he’ll like it if you get on top.”

“I think I can do that.” Biting your bottom lip, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back, sliding yourself out from underneath him. You guided him to lay back onto your pillows and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. 

Shit. Javier cursed inwardly.

Maybe he’d been in over his head with this idea.

He knew at some point he’d have to stop it from going too far—but would he be able to?

“How do you like it?” You asked him, shyly. This time, you hadn’t bothered to correct yourself. 

You didn’t want to know how to please another man.

You wanted to know how to please Javi.

Even if you’d never get the chance to do it.

“Depends on the mood,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders in the most nonchalant manner that he could muster under the circumstances—as if his cock wasn’t rock hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans and begging to be inside you.

“Te gusta despacito?” You start to rock your hips back and forth against his, slowly. “Do you like it slow?”

Javier’s breath hitched in the back his throat. At this point, there was no doubt about it—you could feel him underneath you, throbbing. “Sometimes,” he managed to choke out in reply. “Like I said. Just depends on the mood.”

“Or what about like this?” You grinned down at him, gaining a sense of confidence as you started to move faster on top of him, finding your perfect rhythm. You could see and clearly feel what you were doing to him. Knowing that you were having this kind of effect on Peña was nothing short of a fucking dream come true. 

His hands went to your hips, holding on as you picked up the pace, grinding your clothed core down against his bulge. 

You could feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking your panties; you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d leave behind a wet spot on his jeans. “How am I doing?”

“Fucking amazing, muñeca,” he answered, earnestly. His long, thick fingers dug into your sides as he suggested, “It helps if you put on a little show while you’re up there, too.” He then pictured you in that sexy black lingerie set you’d bought; he imagined what it would be like to slip that tiny little thong to the side so you could freely ride his cock. The mere thought had him seeing stars.

“A show, huh?” You smirked and popped the top two buttons of your shirt—his shirt—exposing the smooth valley between your breasts to him. “I think I can do that too,” You giggled, pulling the fabric to the side, just enough to give him the tiniest glimpse of the soft curves of your chest but not enough to expose yourself completely. 

“Hermosa,” he couldn’t help but groan out. It took every ounce of strength he had inside him not to reach up and tear his shirt right off of you so he could see all of you. 

You grabbed his hands from your hips and slowly began guiding them all around your body. You started by placing them on your breasts, giving him permission to cop another feel before moving them slowly down the lengths of your sides and placing them on your bare thighs. From there, you picked up Javi’s hands once more and placed them behind you, allowing him to take two generous handfuls of your ass. Your hands then abandoned his and you placed them on his chest, supporting yourself as you continued to roll your hips against his, riding him through his jeans. You tossed your head back and closed your eyes; the friction of your clit against his pelvis even through all the clothes felt like absolute heaven, and you let out a lustful moan that bounced off of your bedroom walls as you continued to drive your hips harder against his own.

Realizing that this was no longer a lesson and you were actually pleasuring yourself, Javier groaned again. He moved his hands back to your hips and found himself bucking his own hips upwards to meet you halfway—he abandoned any and all worries about taking it too far. He wanted you to come. 

He needed to see you come.

“Javi,” You gasped his name, moaning again.

“That’s it, muñeca,” he rasped out. “Just like that, baby. Keep going. What a good girl, what a good fucking girl.”

Any and all common sense had been washed away by pleasure and by your need to reach that sweet, sweet release. 

It was so close. You felt him right there, right between your clothed folds, and all you could do was imagine what it would be like to have his cock fill you up and stretch you completely. 

His name began to slip from your lips, rolling off of your tongue over and over again with such ease.

Your movements fell in perfect sync with his.

You went down, he went up.

You pulled, he pushed.

No doubt about it, Javier was trying to get you off.

Somehow, you find a voice that speaks in between all your pitiful little pants. 

 “J-Javi, maybe we s-shouldn’t—”

Javier quickly sat up and wrapped one of his arms around your waist. He slammed your mouths together, silencing you mid sentence. He thrusted upwards, and you whined into his kiss, rubbing your clit against his bulge even harder. 

The beginning of your orgasm coiled up tightly in your belly, and you knew it would spring forward any second now.

“Javi, I’m so close—” 

“It’s okay, hermosa. Come for me,” he mumbled into your mouth.  “I’ve got you.”

Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you buried your face into his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, your loud cries came out muffled against his collarbone as you unraveled, coming undone with one last cry of his name.

You slumped forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you fought to catch your breath, the pleasure still pulsing between your thighs.

Javier’s other arm curled around you and he said nothing as he held you. 

Once you’d finally started coming down from your high, your eyes flew open and a chill went up the length of your spine.

What had you two just done?

Still straddling his lap, you pulled back. “Javi—”

Without warning, Javier flipped you over so you were on your back underneath him once again. He hovered over you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he dipped his head and captured your lips with his one final, deep and sensual kiss. 

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about tonight,” he murmured once he had pulled away. “You’re fucking perfect, mi vida.”

He touched the tip of his nose to yours before climbing off of you.

“I fucking hope this guy realizes what a lucky son of a bitch he is,” Javier said quietly before turning on the heel of his boot and walking out of your bedroom, leaving you laying there with your mouth parted open in complete shock.

Translations

Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. - It’s just a little joke, doll. No need to get offended.

El vestido rojo. - The red dress.

Te lo juro, Javi. - I swear to you, Javi.

Chismosas - Gossipers

Falta mucha tela, cariño. - There is a lot of fabric missing, darling.

Mentirosa. - Liar.

Te gusta despacito? - Do you like it a little slow? 

[nametakensff]

Dusty Paperwork (g/olden k/amuy, K/oito x T/sukishima)

Hey guys, I have decided after a long time of lurking snzblr to actually make a blog and start sharing content here - especially given how dead the forum has been in recent years 😅

@kawaii-kushami inspired this fic with all of their amazing g/olden k/amuy posting and gorgeous art and I basically typed this out in a maddened frenzy LOL

PLEASE go and give their blog some love - they've also drawn AMAZING art of this fic here and here 😭❤️

Please note: this is an extremely NSFW fetish fic - very self-indulgent and very horny - please do not interact if you are under 18! And if you stumble across this as a poor soul without this strange kink, my condolences lmao but please don't reblog to a non-fetish blog

Fellow snzfuckers, I truly hope you enjoy! ❤️ You can also read this over on the forum

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Content:

K/oito and T/sukishima are working through some boring paperwork in a dusty archive room when T/sukishima's allergies prove too much for K/oito to bear

M/M, dust allergies, snzing during sex, verbal teasing, humiliation, implied exhibitionism, masturbation, stifling, not really MESSY messy but lots of spray

3.8k

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If there was one thing that may have deterred Koito even slightly once he’d decided to take up a position in the army, it had to be this. All of the damned paperwork. Stacks and stacks of it. He let out an indignant huff as he leafed through the nearest pile, cross-legged on the archive room floor. It was pathetic, he thought, given his rank and talent that he should be so very condescended towards. But unfortunately, it had been quiet the past week and there really was very little to do otherwise. Besides, Lieutenant Tsurumi had requested it personally – he couldn’t very well say no to him. He supposed it could be worse – after all, he hated above all else being idle – even more than this DAMN PAPERWORK. He childishly batted at the stack to his left, not caring that he would have to painstakingly gather together each sheet as they scattered across the floor. That alone would be less mind-numbing than skimming the documents for vital information on nearby Ainu settlements.

As he reached forward to grab the nearest sheet, he heard a small sound from over his shoulder. And another…and another? He peered behind him and over at Sergeant Tsukishima – also banished to the same tedious task as Koito, though he had almost completely forgotten the shorter man was there. He was quiet and stern, which had unnerved Koito upon first meeting him, but had become over time somewhat comforting to him.

Said man in question now knelt rigidly, a curious expression overtaking his otherwise permanent scowl. Koito watched as Tsukishima raised a forefinger and pressed it under his diminutive nose, moving it gently back and forth. Moments later, his expression cringed, brows drawing up and eyes closing tight. His mouth fell open, pink tongue slightly sticking outwards, and pulled in a silent breath, every muscle in his body drawing tight before –

“nngtxsh!!”

Ahhh, Koito thought. Sneezes. Those little sounds had been sneezes. The realisation spread through his body and filled him with a giddiness he couldn’t quite control, limbs almost tingling. A grin split his face as he watched Tsukishima unwind from the full body contraction the powerfully suppressed sneeze had forced him into. He seemed all at once to feel eyes upon him and turned to face Koito, his regular, somewhat placid frown replacing the desperate contortion of his features from moments earlier. Koito was delighted to see that he had not yet removed his finger from its position under his nostrils, which continued to flare gently.

“What is it, Second Lieutenant Koito?”

His voice had taken on a somewhat husky resonance, congestion evident. Koito felt the warmth steadily gathering below his belt. He cleared his throat.

“Something bothering you, Sergeant Tsukishima?” His voice sounded thick with arousal even to his own ears – no doubt Tsukishima could hear it himself. As he suspected, Tsukishima raised an eyebrow and let his eyes settle on the growing bulge at the front of Koito’s trousers. He smiled devilishly, peering back upwards to meet his younger companion’s gaze, and Koito felt his face heat in response.

“I’m allergic to dust, Second Lieutenant. Apologies for the interruption.” As he spoke, his index finger sawed back and forth under his ever-pinkening nose, his eyes never leaving their intense mutual stare.

Koito swallowed, head swimming with sudden overstimulation. He had been obsessed with sneezing for as long as he could remember, and brought himself to orgasm thinking about it more often than he would care to admit. He really didn’t discriminate between men and women when it came to a good sneeze, and he would simultaneously long for and dread spring so that he might be driven mad listening to as much sneezing as he could take. He was lucky that there were several men he worked with amongst the 7th Division that had the most wretched hayfever, especially lucky that some of them had very pleasing sneezes. He was conflicted sometimes by this peculiar interest – particularly when it came to the likes of Usami, a man that absolutely repulsed him but had the most toe-curling, desperate sneezes Koito had ever heard. It didn’t help that he unabashedly relished in the release, which filled Koito with an overpowering combination of disgust and desire. He supposed he wasn’t too conflicted when on warm spring nights he coaxed himself to trembling orgasms replaying the sound and sight of that vile man over and over in his mind.

So Koito was accustomed to hearing many of his fellow soldiers suffering through the cherry blossoms blooming, and couldn’t particularly say that he was deprived of the pleasure his secret enjoyment brought him. But, to his immense disappointment, he had never heard Sergeant Tsukishima sneeze. Not once. Not when they had just been colleagues introduced to each other by Tsurumi, not when they had suddenly and abruptly become lovers, and never since. Koito had even initiated sex up against a cherry tree just in the hope that the air heavy with that tickly substance would coax a few sneezes out of the quiet man, but with no such luck.

(Incidentally, it had made Koito himself sneeze several times, which to his pleasure Tsukishima had blessed politely even as he panted and moaned under Koito’s ministrations).

He had all but given up hope that the Sergeant would EVER sneeze in his presence, and sometimes wondered to himself if the man’s small, stubbed nose was even capable of such a thing. Ridiculous, of course, but he had never so much as seen the man sniffle. He felt guilty about wishing Tsukishima to come down with a cold, but he could see no other way that he could finally see that which almost kept him up at night in feverish longing. To his chagrin, Tsukishima’s immune system appeared as sturdy and stalwart as the rest of his short, muscular self, and he was yet to catch a cold in their time together.

And so, Koito had buried his disappointment and jumped headfirst into enjoying Tsukishima in every other way. Their sex, when they were able to find time and privacy to engage in it, was so entirely satisfying in itself that he no longer entertained the thought of Tsukishima sneezing for him. It simply never happened, and so he had never brought up his interest to the Sergeant. It was totally and utterly okay that he go without.

Or so he had thought. Until this present moment, when the room’s temperature seemed to skyrocket as he watched Tsukishima gear up for another delicious paroxysm, all the while fighting to keep their eye contact unbroken. It quickly became too much for the allergic man, and his eyes squeezed shut under the pressure of another stifled sneeze.

“nnngxt!!”

It overpowered him entirely, his shoulders curling forward and his finger pressed up against those wildly flaring nostrils. He stubbornly clamped his mouth shut and swallowed down the sound as much as he could – which seemed to Koito to be almost hardly at all. The shorter man let out a shaky exhale and blinked owlishly as he recovered. Biting down on this most recent sneeze seemed to have sapped him of all of his energy, and he appeared to wilt slightly. Koito could only imagine how powerful the sneeze would have been if it hadn’t so forcefully been stifled into submission.

Regarding his lover’s charmingly pink nose and utter exhaustion under the power of his sneezes that seemed to belong to a man twice his size, Koito felt his previously quashed desires overwhelm him. Fuck it. He HAD to have more, and he had to embrace Tsukishima right now.

Stumbling to his feet with less grace than he would have liked, Koito strode towards the door, feeling Tsukishima’s gaze follow him across the room. Securing the lock with a resounding click of confirmation, he made his way over to kneel beside his lover, who was otherwise preoccupied with rubbing his itchy nose an even deeper shade of pink and blinking back allergic tears. Shaking with anxious excitement, he wrapped his arms around the Sergeant in an all-encompassing hug – finally allowing himself to relax when he felt the small man twist in his arms and return his embrace, resting his forehead against the younger’s broad shoulder.

“Damned dust is really getting to me. I’ll need to have a word with the men about neglecting their cleaning duties.” He all but sighs into Koito’s frame, eliciting a tiny shiver from him as he rubbed his irritated nose against the fabric of his jacket.

“You poor thing.” Koito crooned against the side of his buzz cut. “I suppose I’ll have to look after you.” He licked the shell of Tsukishima’s ear, returning the shiver of pleasure inflicted upon him.

He would have been surprised by the sudden lurch of Tsukishima pushing him onto his back as the shorter man captured his lips in a kiss, had he not become well accustomed with the voracious appetite for sex that simmered under the Sergeant’s somewhat stony composure. It was Tsukishima who had been the first to approach him and push him up against the wall of an empty corridor and make Koito come with his name on his lips. He had gone along with him so readily and with such ease that it had felt natural that he should take Tsukishima’s cock into his mouth the next day behind the Izakaya, as the other men filtered drunkenly back to their quarters.

He returned the kiss passionately, feeling his cock jump in his pants as Tsukishima’s own erection pushed against him, even moreso when he felt the congestion from his companion’s stuffy nose begin to run out onto his cheek. He pulled back from the kiss to reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a pristine white handkerchief. He held it up for the other man but was met with a blank stare. It seemed he had no intention of cleaning himself up. The younger man scoffed, before reaching up with a handkerchief-clad hand to gently wipe away the pooling mess himself, his heart skipping a beat as the Sergeant rubbed the small appendage into his palm and sniffled slightly.

With a final swipe under those pink nostrils, Koito replaced the kerchief in his pocket and pulled himself up on his elbows, scanning the room for a more comfortable location to continue. He could feel pages of overturned paper stacks crinkling under him, and as much as he would love to desecrate the boring, antiquated documents, it wouldn’t make for the most enjoyable fuck. His eyes locked onto a chaise longue set beside a distant bookcase, and he pulled himself and Tsukishima to their feet, pacing frantically over to the lone piece of furniture. He reached out to touch the dull, ancient looking fabric, and to his utter delight saw a sudden cloud of dust particles shimmering in the air. Yes, this would do nicely.

He settled himself against the cushions and encouraged the shorter man to straddle his lap. It wasn’t long before both men had rid themselves of their jackets and shirts and were working their way down to their trousers. The movement, however, had caused more and more dust to be disturbed, and as it settled around them in small clouds, Tsukishima’s eyes grew watery and red-rimmed, his nostrils flaring wide in anticipation. Paralysed by the mounting sensation of the building tickle, he could do nothing more than gasp gently and wait in agonising limbo for those inhales to usher in the sneeze to come. Koito took in the sight of the helpless man hovering above him and just about growled, working his hands into Tsukishima’s trousers and pulling his stiff cock out of his fundoshi. The shorter man’s gasps reached their peak with a sharp inhale, and-

“ih-nggxt! Nggxt!! HEH-NGGXT!!”

Koito watched through unblinking eyes as his lover trembled above him, impressed that he had managed to hold back his sneezes without the help of his finger, instead curling forward with his hands on Koito’s shoulders and biting down with sheer willpower alone. Watching the Sergeant’s expression twist into a mask of ticklish desperation was painfully arousing, leaving Koito almost panting. Those must have ticked unbearably.

He lunged upwards and sucked along the exposed column of the older man’s neck, humming in appreciation as he took in the reciprocating gasp his ministrations earned him. Emboldened, he decided he would at last in words let the other man know just how much he was enjoying his allergies. Tsukishima wasn’t a fool – Koito was sure he had known the second he caught him staring him down with a tent in his pants all but 10 minutes ago, but it would be better to establish out loud his proclivity for what he hoped would be many more indulgences to come.

“You know, Tsukishima, in all the time I’ve known you, this is the first time I’ve heard you sneeze?” He kissed a trail from the shorter man’s neck up and over his strong jaw.

“Mm. You liked it, did you?” Koito continued kissing along the Sergeant’s cheek, feeling the skin shift under his lips at the smile forming on Tsukishima’s own.

“Very, very much.” He guided one of Tsukishima’s hands from his shoulder to his throbbing erection. “This much, in fact.”

Tsukishima began to squeeze and pull at him almost immediately, a stuttering moan catching in Koito’s throat at the attention. Tsukishima was just so fucking good, good at everything, knew just how to get him off. Letting his eyes roll back into his head, he honestly couldn’t imagine heaven could be sweeter.

“HEH-NGGXT-shooh!”

The sudden sneeze had him bucking uncontrollably in Tsukishima’s grip, which had tightened almost painfully in tandem with contraction. This time, the Sergeant hadn’t been able to maintain control, and a small burst of spray had showered Koito’s chest in a fittish explosion. The younger man’s eyes flew open and he moaned anew. His lover had the audacity to snicker at him, and finally pulled Koito’s cock free from his trousers and fundoshi.

“Sorry about that.” Tsukishima continued pumping his cock, evidently not sorry in the slightest.

Fairly embarrassed by his own responsivity, Koito occupied himself in ridding them both of their remaining clothes before pushing Tsukishima down against the dusty cushions, taking over his position above him.  He reached down and gently grasped the shorter man by the chin, coaxing him to look up at him. Tsukishima merely grinned and settled his left hand on Koito’s muscular thigh, returning his right hand to the task of teasingly massaging Koito’s length.

“Mm….bless you many times over.” Koito murmured. “But surely…you’d feel much better if you let them out?”

“Hm? I’m not quite sure what you mean, Second Lieutenant Koito.” Tsukishima feigned innocence, not once faltering in his pulling at Koito with deep, long strokes. The sensation of that strong grip on his sensitive cock was maddening, and  it took all of Koito’s willpower to hold back from coming right then and there.

“Y-you know – hah! – exactly what I mean, Sergeant Tsukishima.” With that said, Koito batted at the cushion right next to the shorter man’s face, uprooting even more dust in a small grey puff of particles. Tsukishima must have gotten a fair face full of it as he coughed suddenly. Koito almost panicked but was relieved to see that after a few gentle coughs, Tsukishima’s nostrils flared wide and his mouth dropped open in a preparatory grimace. He lifted the hand that was occupying Koito’s thigh to his face, fully intending to push his extended index finger against his itchy appendage, but Koito would have none of it. He quickly grasped his arm by the wrist and lowered it back to his thigh.

“No, Tsukishima. You mustn’t suppress them like that.” Tsukishima gasped in response, tongue pushing down against the bottom row of his teeth as all remaining ability to hold the sneeze back vanished in an instant. His chest expanded as his lungs filled to capacity with a shaking inhale, and –

“HEH-EIIIISHHHHHHhhoooh!”

Koito gasped with a heady combination of shock and arousal as the sneeze hit him full force against his face and neck, forcing his eyes to reflexively shut momentarily. It was an intense sensation, that rush of air and the accompanying spray; the feeling of Tsukishima clenching and bucking forward and upwards between his thighs. But more than anything, he couldn’t believe how loud the sneeze had been, practically echoing in his ears. It was a desperate, vocally rich sound that betrayed just how irritated Tsukishima’s nose had become, how much his body urgently wanted to rid him of the tickle of all that pesky dust taking residence in the depth of his twitching sinuses. And god, it was so wet. In all, it was everything Koito could have asked for. His cock jumped in Tsukishima’s grasp, dripping precum down his fist.

He was so close to coming now – Tsukishima’s unrelenting attention had made sure of that - and he only needed a few more sneezes to send him over the edge of what he was sure would be an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Ohh, fuck…Bless you, Tsukishima!” Koito sighed, reaching up to wipe at some of the mess Tsukishima’s most impressive sneeze had left on his love’s top lip. He didn’t stop there, instead worrying at the edge of the Sergeant’s pinkened right nostril and watching in delight as it twitched and flared uncontrollably. He gripped the side of the chaise longue firmly with his left hand, feeling his thighs begin to twitch as the man beneath him jerked him at an increasing speed, all the while building to another ticklish explosion.

“Ahh, S-sehhcond Lieutenant Khh-oito, I need t-to-!“ Tsukishima gasped, his voice unsteady and rising in pitch. Koito felt himself become increasingly hotter, if that was even possible, as the older man hitched and moaned beneath him.

“Need to sneeze, Sergeant? Shall I help you hold it back? We certainly don’t want any soldiers passing by to hear you losing control of your tickly little nose and come in to investigate, now, do we?”

He knew Tsukishima would probably be mortified if such an event were to transpire in reality, but he also knew very well that the thing that made the shorter man harder than he had ever seen him before was the suggestion that they would be discovered in their sexual antics. They had once been fucking up against an office door when the very sound of passing footsteps outside the room had Tsukishima shooting feverishly against the polished surface, pulling Koito over the edge with him as he contracted rhythmically around him. That such an uptight, composed man could come so wonderfully undone at the thought of his own exhibitionistic humiliation had lit a fire in Koito to make sure he could bring his lover to that point as often as he possibly could.

As he predicted, Tsukishima’s neglected cock twitched against his stomach, and pearlescent liquid gathered at the tip. To Koito’s further pleasure, he then took in a ragged gasp and sneezed most violently, as if inviting the scenario of discovery even closer.

“HEEEEIIISHHHH’oooh!!”

Unbelievably, it was even louder than before and so, so wet as it sprayed up over Koito’s face, neck and exposed chest, even fanning down his stomach, peaking his nipples and leaving goosebumps in its wake. And it was evident that Tsukishima was gearing up for even more, chest heaving. Koito shuddered, his entire body breaking out in a sweat, and prepared himself for the rest of the fit, which came quickly and just as violently as the initial explosion.

“HEH-EEEIISHHH!! EEEEEISHHH’oooh!! Heh-HEH-EEEEEISHHH’OOOH!!!”

And with that last, monstrous explosion, thoroughly drenched and completely at his limit, Koito’s orgasm engulfed him, spreading from his throbbing penis in waves throughout his extremities, so strong at first that he silently shuddered, eyes squeezing shut and mouth agape in the throes of paralytic euphoria. He found his voice at last, whimpering Tsukishima’s name over and over as he felt the grip on his cock slowly and expertly guide him through the final tremors of his pleasure, until he felt it loosen and release him. Feeling himself twitch helplessly a few more times into the empty air, completely gratified, he opened his eyes to take in the sight beneath him.

His passion had erupted in long ropes all over Tsukishima’s torso, even up to the shorter man’s right cheek, which the man in question now swiped at with already sticky fingers and sucked off, knowing Koito was watching. His own cock lay stiff and heavy over his stomach, flushed an angry shade of red looking all the more pronounced against the smattering of Koito’s semen from base to tip. He looked incredibly pleased with himself, throbbing erection aside, glancing up at Koito with a mix of arousal and smug satisfaction.

“Why, Second Lieutenant Koito, if I’d known something as simple as my sneezing at dust was enough to ruin you so thoroughly in half the time I’m usually able to, I would have suggested we fuck on this absolute dust trap a long time ago.”

His voice was now heavily congested, and Koito felt a twinge of endearment at the pitiful nature of it. Taking a grounding breath and revelling in the afterglow that flowed through his limbs, he leaned forward and pressed their bodies together, not caring about the semen that lay sticky between their skin. He kissed Tsukishima gently until the older man had to break away to take a breath, completely unable to inhale through his stuffy nose. Koito tutted in slight concern and pulled back, bringing Tsukishima to a seated position as he knelt down on the floor in front of him. He reached over to his jacket and retrieved his handkerchief, handing it to the Sergeant, who took it without hesitation this time and relieved his sinuses with a long, crackling blow.

“Thank you for indulging me, Sergeant. Really. That was just…incredible. Are you feeling alright?” Koito rubbed his thigh tenderly. Tsukishima chuckled softly behind the dampening fabric, before suddenly gasping and muffling a sneeze from the lingering allergic tickle into the folds.

“heHH-EMMPSHH!!-ooh…Ah…I’ll feel much better once you touch me, Koito. Please. I need you.”

Koito didn’t need to be told twice. Replaying the sound of his love’s sneezes in his head over and over, he took his needy cock into his mouth and worked him for all he was worth, hardly able to come to terms with the fact that his sexual prayers had been answered by some (not so) divine god of perversion. Tsukishima was everything he never even knew he wanted or needed, and as he felt the older man finally jerk in his mouth and come all over his tongue, he let his mind run wild with all the ways he would make this momentous occasion up to him, and all the ways he would beg Tsukishima to make him come – hopefully many, many times – in the future.

[lifeonstar]

Them Bones

Pairing: Leopika

(2/7)

2. The boy, the doctor

Three days earlier, the apothecary had appeared at Pairo's home to announce that everything was ready for the operation.

As soon as the news had reached Kurapika's ears, he had insisted on accompanying Pairo and his parents on the day the surgery would take place. He needed to be next to his best friend, that Pairo could see him before entering the operating room and that he could see him as soon as he came out of it too.

See him or feel him, it didn't matter.

The apothecary's house was far away, hidden behind brush and branches on a small hill. In fact, it was so far away that at a certain point along the way, the common noises of the village were no longer heard, neither the children running, nor the adults talking, nor the loaded carts traveling on the cobblestone roads, not even they could hear the loud and deafening shouts of the vendors in the plaza. It looked like a completely different place.

The journey seemed endless, Kurapika walked with Pairo's mother while the father carried the kid in his arms. The route was steep and with Kurapika's nerves it was even getting tedious. Luckily they didn't have to go much further. Twenty meters from them were both the old apothecary and the creature that the same man had adopted several months ago.

'The boy'.

As Kaparo had described him, 'the boy' had long, slender limbs. He was tall, as tall as the old apothecary, but for that reason he could not be mistaken for an adult, since his features were still small and delicate like those of any child Kurapika and Pairo's age.

He was even pretty. Kurapika felt that the word pretty and the word different were the ones that could best define the boy.

"Welcome," the old apothecary greeted, as always wearing his round-rimmed black glasses and his cane, as stooped as he was."You arrived just in time."

Pairo's parents shook the old man's wrinkled and trembling hand, and from their worried looks Kurapika knew that he wasn't the only one wondering how the hundred-year-old man could heal Pairo in such a state. Even 'the boy's' face resembled worry.

The adults exchanged a couple of words with the apothecary about the operation, such as how long it lasted and what the post-surgery recovery would be like.

"Leorio, take the little one inside," the old man said to the boy. "I will clarify the doubts to the family while we have a jasmine tea."

The boy, whose name was as foreign as his appearance, nodded and held out his hand to Pairo.

Pairo hugged his parents and Kurapika, everyone else seemed to be more nervous than him, but he looked confident and positive, as always. Finally he took Leorio's hand, and they both got lost in the bushes that shielded the house.

"Come with me, please," said the old man, leading them through the exact same passage. As soon as they crossed the thicket they saw the apothecary's house. The structure was not too big, perhaps enough to house a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a medical room, quite old if Kurapika's memories served him right.

What was big was the property where that house was located, it had a greenhouse where the old man surely grew his medicinal plants and a small portion dedicated to growing vegetables and raising some animals.The man led them to some stone seats and made the tea with trembling hands in front of the permanent fire in the center.

The old man sat there with them, telling them of the wastelands he had seen the last time he went out to get medicinal implements, of the advances of the village and the clan over its hundred plus years. All those things would have been fascinating to Kurapika if it weren't for the circumstances, when was that old man planning to go to Pairo to operate?

The little boy's nerves must have been at a thousand an hour while he waited, lying on a stretcher next to the one whom all his friends had classified as a monster. And it wasn't just him, when Pairo's father interrupted a conversation about captive birds in a faraway continent to ask about the same thing Kurapika was thinking, the old man only replied "not yet, soon, soon."

By the time Kurapika had started to get impatient, the door to the house opened and Leorio came out, looking directly at the old man.

"That's it," he said.

"Oh, excellent!" the old man exclaimed, getting up and starting a slow walk toward the house, stopping halfway to ask:

"Won't you come?"

"Isn't it that you can't go in when they're going to operate on someone?" asked Pairo's mother.

"Exactly," the man agreed with a smile. "But Pairo is already operated. Leorio did it while we were having tea."

******

After digesting that a thirteen-year-old boy had carried out such a complicated surgery on Pairo's eyes, the old man confessed that he could not have done it, and not only because his current medical knowledge was not so advanced. The man had gradually lost his sight until a few months ago he had gone completely blind, not to mention the disease that made his hands and sometimes his whole body shake.

Pairo had come out of the operation well, although his eyes remained closed until Leorio and the old apothecary came to his house to change the bandages.The outfit Leorio was wearing on the last day of dressing change and healing was typical Kurta, but very old. It had probably belonged to the apothecary's son, who had died seventy years ago.

Kurapika and Leorio had not exchanged any words but the young Kurta liked the accent he had in the few words he seemed to know how to pronounce. His hands were delicate and gentle as he unrolled the last bit of cloth that covered Pairo's vision.The apothecary had told that a few months ago he had found Leorio stealing at a fair in Lukso, curiosity led him to ask about his life and he soon found out that the boy was not only interested in becoming a doctor, but in spite of his young age he had advanced knowledge in medicine and something the old man had called 'the gift of the hunt'.

That last thing aroused a slight curiosity in Kurapika, but he let it go in order to see the results of the intervention.

When Leorio asked Pairo to open his eyes, they were as clear as they had been before the accident, they no longer had that strange opaque film darkening his irises and preventing him from seeing almost completely, he no longer had a wandering look.

Pairo could see perfectly again.

[gio-dude]

any more thoughts on paper mario so far?

I LOVED it honestly and the only reason I'm not playing TTYD is because I'm waiting for my new pc to get fixed cus my laptop is 🥔

Not as much as I did at the start, unfortunately. I've done a few more posts in different formats, but after the prologue and chapter one it's been a game and the humors been there but not quite as funny as that first chunk for me. Like, the attention to detail is absolutely INSANE throughout the whole game so far (the hidden spots, the funny npc dialogue, the dizzy eye animation, the text effects when people are speaking to show emotion and emphasis, etc), and some of the clues and stuff have been really well done where it guides you, sometimes by even straight up telling you what to do, but only if you like talk and interact with everyone and it sounds like gossip. I love how much world building they put into it, and like all of your companions get letters, so like Kooper is going to join Kolorado in an archeology adventure after helping mario, bombette is going to help cut the ribbon for a new train station since she cleared the tracks of the toad town one, they all have really cool stories for AFTER the game, which I really love and appreciate since I don't remember that from TTYD.

But yeah PM 64 has had solid characters and great world building and I am baffled at how complex and absolutely massive it feels to me for its time (I mainly played the pokemon stadium [1 & 2] mini games and kirby 64 shards and the OG ssb for comparison/context, and like kirby felt big but the open world of mario and the dynamic background where things change each chapter and characters reacting differently based off what degree of fighter you are make it feel massive) (also the timing of enemies for blocking and command attacks feels like each one would need its own code for, and there have been a lot of enemies and I'm only on chapter 3!)

It's been very interesting playing PM 64 after TTYD, since TTYD had a LOT of polish which, I hadn't realized, made it incredible. And like I watched a video or read an article ages ago about other games like the first two paper mario games and the mario and luigi series (both series, best games) and it was talking about how TTYD took a LOT of inspiration from PM 64, almost to the extent of copy+pasting, like "you did a train mystery in the first game and so let's do another train mystery" and "you get a smart Goomba, a small town koopa, a bomb-omb with character, and a ghost as a companion, so let's do that all again". And it's true (I haven't gotten to the train bit yet but I know it exists since there is a PENGUIN detective and we love penguins), but like all of the characters in TTYD had WAAAAAY more character and although both games' companions are charming, the added character design in TTYD was great.

Final thoughts are for both the paper mario and the mario and luigi series as a whole and their successors, both spiritually and literally.

As for the literal successors of PM and M&L, M&L has stayed true to its nature and although the stories are different and the abilities raise the stakes unnecessarily in my opinion, they still play like M&L games. PM on the other hand...

I feel like the bowser sections in TTYD directly influenced mario and luigi: browsers inside story, which was spectacular and probably the strongest in that series (partners in time will always hold a special place in my heart and I love it. Super stars was okay, the story was amazing but the fighting felt more tedious than the later games. Dreamy luigi was alright, I wasn't a fan of the new art style [that all the remakes, unfortunately, decided to continue to use] I don't think I ever beat it since it never hooked me in the same way. And I've seen NO ONE talk about that one cross over with paper mario, so I know nothing of that one.)

Paper mario and M&L are like my favorite games since I like that you still interact in battles even when it's not your turn. I hate JRPGs with a passion since I would literally rather play around in excel sheets all day (which I get paid to do) than click the same buttons over and over again without thought and then have to wait for the enemy animation when it could all just be text and skipped and be done with.

These games add the element of skill, albeit a pretty small element that can be boring and tedious and repetitive too, but it adds engagement for the entire time you are battling and battles are directly and immediately impacted by your skill, as compared to mainly "strategy" (pick the strongest move) in JRPGs. I care about getting each action command and each block in PM, my skill directly influences the outcome of the battle compared to sheer luck (there's a little luck with like status effects but that isnt the same as variable damge based on luck). If I'm playing a game I want to be engaged with it the whole time, not constantly mashing A while checking my phone since I'm spamming the same attack agaim since there is nothing else to do (glares at pokemon).

I feel like undertale was a spiritual successor to these games based on the bullet hell dodging in combat and the timing of attacks. The dodging was actually way more engaging and difficult in undertale than in PM and M&L and I think that was a large part of its success. I'm really surprised so few games have taken this approach to the rpg formula, of making the whole battle actually engaging, but there are a lot in development!

One that's out already is bug fables and if you have not checked that one out PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CHECK IT OUT! It's glorious and the best successor to TTYD I've ever seen. There's also born of bread of which I've heard mixed results on and haven't check out myself yet, and there's also a sea horse one in development still also I had checked. There's also "OTHER:her loving embrace" which takes a more similar approach to combat as undertale but instead of bullet hell dodging it's a seconds long mini platformer where you have to run around dodging and you can even counter attack and it looks like everything I've ever wanted from a game and I am INCREDIBLY excited for that one. I'd also be down for a bug fables 2.

Now, disclaimer, I haven't actually played any other paper mario games than 64 and TTYD since they have all sounded awful. Sticker star had all moves be dictated by one time use stickers so your combat move options were constantly changing and combat seemed slow and not engaging (like a usual turn based jrpg) since I think it was just the stickers gimmick the whole time? 64 had some funny paper gimmicks, and TTYD really stepped up its paper inspired mechanics, what with the mario curses (airplane, tube, boat, etc.) And like busty genie's blowing ability, and then the one paper mario for the wii (super paper mario? I'm not willing to look it up) seemed to build more upon that with being able to like turn the world sideways and stuff, which makes for a cool puzzle game but I don't know anything about the combat that I can remember- that's how unmemorable it was despite looking into it multiple times because not enough of these types of games exist. I've heard nothing of the PM x M&L crossover as I've said above, and from what I heard about origami King the story was cute but a little shallow and the combat got switched up YET A-FUCKING-GAIN. It seemed liked an interesting combat system, but it sounded like it got extra tedious really fast since I think it involved having to draw a path through enemies that surround you in a circle and again, seemed cool but it wasn't paper mario. I once played a cooperative star trek board game that seemed to have similar mechanics, and like, as a combat system I could see it being really cool, but just not good for paper mario which has refuses to go back to what made 64 and TTYD so successful and charming and wacky, since Nintendo wants M&L to be the big rpg mario line games, which like... GIVE US BOTH.

So, yeah! Thank you so much for giving me an excuse and outlet to ramble and get all my thoughts out, it may be a bit more than you bargained for but you asked for thoughts! And paper mario was vague so I couldn't tell if you meant the 64 game specifically or the whole series, so you get the whole series!

Although I have this typed out on the 23, it's nearly 11 pm and I have work in the morning and I want to go through and edit this since I am notorious for having awful spelling and skipping whole words when I'm thinking anything quickly and I want to make sure this all looks and sounds good and at least has some coherence with the order it covers topics so thou must be patient.

[acnhretreat]

i’ve said it before idk why people compare animal crossing to stardew valley at all they’re nothing alike imo

everyone who told me stardew valley was like animal crossing but better is a hater lol

my brother literally told me “you’ve been playing acnh for awhile im sure you have lots of criticism of the game by now. well i’m telling you stardew valley is like if all of those problems were solved but better” and I’m like what problems? What criticism? Are we playing the same game? Why do you hate animal crossing so much. Is it because you hate playing dolls? You hate playing dress up and you hate building sandcastles?

You know what, actually, I’ll say my main qualm with stardew valley is that decorating is so tedious it’s not even enjoyable. The main reason I play animal crossing is because i love decorating. I don’t own a PC so my brother bought me Stardew Valley on the switch. Such a fun game! Fabulous game but decorating and trying to use the left toggle instead of a mouse is the most obnoxious tedious thing ever. I always go into decorating my house feeling like it’ll be fun and nice to have my house looking cuter and then I end up wanting to just not even play anymore because it takes me one in-game hour to properly rotate a chair. (it also doesn’t help that i don’t decorate often Because of these reasons, so therefore i’m worse with the controls and you press one wrong button and you have to start all over trying to drag the cursor back over the chair to try to reselect it again to rotate it. ridiculous!)

It makes my only critiques i do have of animal crossing new horizons feel so small in comparison they completely disappear! (almost all of which are just minor annoyances when it comes to decorating anyway, such as tree placement or some of the terraforming limitations or not being able to hang items on the partition walls, all of which are criticisms i already basically just excuse anyway because i love the game so much, and nothing can be perfect, we already have so many options in the game that any limitations are small snags and not worth worrying too much about imo!)

I think everyone who plays New Horizons and is expecting much more than a super fun decorating game is maybe just playing the wrong game for them. idek why so many people wanna come to bat and tear new horizons apart, saying it’s not as good as this game or that game. It’s its own game. quite frankly. Everyone is valid in their opinion and i get loving and game franchise and being disappointed by a game especially since NH deviated in a bit of a different direction than previous animal crossing games, i understand the criticisms of the game perhaps feeling a bit more lifeless than it used to be and also i get if the other aspects of the old game iterations such as mini games was an important part of the gameplay to you you’re going to be critical and disappointed when these aspects of the game are removed.

i love old animal crossing games. unfortunately i have never played new leaf, although i hope i get to someday. and i have played WW and found my life of animal crossing through Population Growing in my youth and adore those games for what they are.

Idek I guess it’s fair and expected that everyone wanted to share their opinion about the game after it came out and if you expected something different than what it is, then your adverse reaction i guess may naturally be stronger than if you’re like me and didn’t have any expectations for the game and then was pleasantly surprised that it’s mostly a creative decorating game which imo is even more fun than the original animal crossing games. that’s just my play style i guess!

i’ve made posts similar to this before lol. I just really love animal crossing new horizons and i feel like people often look at it through a lens of expecting it to be something it isn’t.

it’s totally valid if you don’t like decorating or sandbox or dress up games. But i would say if you don’t like those things then yeah New Horizons might be boring to you. but don’t come for it just because it isn’t your style.

That’s all i’m saying lol

[violettelueur]

— RYOMEN SUKUNA || LET ME MARK YOU THEN

↳ featuring : ryomen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of sex, mention of hickeys and grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 22 january

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.7k

↳ synopsis : (modern!AU) after your lectures, you decided to pay your tattoo artist boyfriend a little visit only to then be persuaded to let him draw a tattoo design on you even though you never actually wanted a real one to be marked with.

↳ barista’s notes : just a little gift to you all before today’s episode and the reset the ‘coffees in progress’ list (wip) when i get enough sleep and after my disgusting online classes, i hope you enjoy the free cup of coffee everyone ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ - also i feel like this is the longest imagine i have ever posted ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ

Having a morning full of tedious lectures was not someone’s ideal day and it was definitely not yours. Although, there was nothing you could do but pursue them through with as much enthusiasm and determination that you could possibly muster while being impatient about the hands on the clock taking forever to move a single inch.

However, at this moment in time, you were able to escape the suffocating lecture hall after many hours for today and was now walking down the busy streets of Tokyo with a white plastic takeaway bag in one hand while the other was occupied with your tote bag that was resting on your shoulder, which surprisingly kept hold of some of your textbooks as well as your laptop giving you some reassurance that the bag that your boyfriend gave you was going to last for quite some time.

Looking around the busy quarter of the capital, you began to notice a few high school students roaming about here and there with some hanging out with their friends - mostly likely going to a cafe or to the nearest karaoke lounge that they could find - while other were either rushing home as they entered the station or to their part-time jobs that they had managed to obtain for a few extra bucks to save up for their next step in life. Noticeably, there were also a few adults out and about with some working as street-food vendors selling delicious treats that you would be craving if you weren’t so full while others were dressed extremely professional with their laptops out on their cafe/restaurant table to what seemed like they were on their lunch break.

‘He should be on his lunch break right now, but if not, I’ll just put his food in the shop’s fridge’

Continue walking to your destination, you finally reached to a quieter area with the city leading you to then stand in front of a glass order with a ‘closed’ sign in front along with another extremely noticeable sign proudly stating ‘Malevolent Shine’ to which if you had said that to any tattoo fanatic within Japan, they would instantly know what you were talking about.

Opening the door, there was a sudden noise of a ring being heard leading you to immediately look up to see the silver bell that you told him to arrange since he always got annoyed about the number of potential clients popping up without his acknowledgement only to tell him that they didn’t book an appointment at all causing him to become more irritated - and as a matter of fact, you couldn’t blame him at all.

Looking around the tattoo shop that you had entered, there wasn’t a single person in sight leading you to come to the conclusion that you were right about his lunch break since his assistant would be at the front desk if they weren’t. Although there was no one to greet you, the dark atmosphere did. It gave an odd sense of comfort with its hints of red that could calm a customer down if they were worried about the tattoo they were committing to having on their body or if it was their first - especially when it came to him.

“Oya~ ain’t you a sexy customer? But I’m afraid we’re closed, but I don’t mind giving you a private session if you want, kitten” someone smoothly stated, leading your eyes to slowly shift to the person who was leaning against the desk with a confident smirk on his face. There he was, the mastermind behind the whole shop itself.

“Well, I’m not coming in for a tattoo but I am here to give a little gift, Sukuna,” you mischievously stated, as you lifted the white bag with the takeaway you had ordered for the man himself, leading him to look at you in surprised before tilting his head indicating you to come to the back with him.

Following his lead, you placed the bag on his table once you reached the backroom before placing your tote on the floor beside the table’s leg so it didn’t fall, letting any of your precious studious contents to be lost as well as avoiding any damage to your laptop.

“I’m surprised you’re using the bag, kitten,” Sukuna suddenly commented, as he sat on his chair while pulling out the white styrofoam box of Thai food that he always ordered along with a bento box that was wrapped in a black cloth.

“Well, how could I not? You did buy it for me,” you quietly mentioned as you took off your black longline coat before placing it behind your chair since there was nowhere else to put it.

“Did you make this?” Sukuna quickly questioned as he lifted the bento box causing you to nod at his question once you saw what he meant leading you to state, “I didn’t know if you were going to stay back tonight, so I prepared some food for you in case,” causing Sukuna to smirk since you were right about your assumption and it did catch him by surprise since he didn’t mention it to you today when he left your shared apartment.

“Thanks,” he quietly muttered before pulling his chair closer towards you so he could place a lingering kiss on your cheek to show his appreciation towards you. “How was class?” he then asked, as he began to unwrap the cloth of the box to your surprise since you bought his favourite item from the Thai restaurant but made no mention of it.

“Annoying, it was suffocating in there but the lecture was interesting so that’s a plus,” you answered, as you began to scan his messy desk that displayed the many drawings that he was working on. Some of the designs that Sukuna was drawing were almost complete, while others were in the same situation but for some odd reason, it was crossed out as if he was unsatisfied with the outcome that it was going to have which lead you to be perplexed since some of the drawings were incredibly detailed and beautiful. However, you didn’t have the eyes of an artist like your boyfriend did, instead, you had the eyes of someone that was able to analyse things exceedingly well hence why you decided to pursue a career as a criminal lawyer.

“How has the shop been while I was away?” you asked, as you carefully picked up one of the designs that the tattoo artist seemed to have scraped leading him to answer with an annoyed huff. “A pain, there’s been so many dumbass people coming in thinking they could just walk in and get a tattoo done immediately without even booking a meeting,” Sukuna answered before taking a bite of the soy-glazed fried chicken you made as he then continued with, “it was a good idea to get the bell since I could see if it was a customer I knew or not,”.

Looking at your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but smile at the man as he continuously munched the context in the box as if he hadn’t eaten in the past week when in reality he had been raiding the fridge back home only just this morning. Slowly, you turn your head back to the paper that you were holding as you continued to admire the work of art right in front of you. 

To be honest, it was quite simple compared to all the other ones that were lying about on his work desk but that didn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful. The light sketch depicted a short section of a branch or stem decorated with different types of beautiful flowers and next to it was the same design with the only difference of it being coloured lightly in case the client wanted to have options.

“What happened here?” you asked before tilting the paper to the side, letting Sukuna have a glance at the design he decided to discard.

“Oh, the client cancelled since I wouldn’t have sex with her,” Sukuna casually stated leading you to nod before taking another look at the design with a small smile on your face. Sadly, it was such a waste since the design was beautiful and it was disappointing to not see Sukuna put this beautiful art into life.

Some people might wonder why you were so calm about the statement he had just given you, heck even his younger twin brother Itadori Yuji thought it was weird that it didn’t bother you as much as other girls would have been. The reason was that you were so used to him having female attention as well as male attention and it wasn’t a surprise when people would book an appointment with him just for a fling or hoping for something more than just that - and even though you were calm, there was also a hint of jealousy and fear within your heart that you couldn’t help.

It was like the first time you saw him in your second year of high school.

                                               ꕥ 

Stretching your arms, you had finally finished the last sheet of the budgets for the school clubs leading you to carefully clip the pile of sheets into the folder as you then stood up from your desk before quickly heading out of your homeroom, so you could give the documents to the student council president, who was a third-year within your school.

However, as you were walking past a few classrooms with some people greeting you with a smile, you came to a sudden halt when you saw a whole crowd of female and males students in front of you leading to a blockage of the halls and a blockage of the classroom you need to go through to hand the documents to your senior.

“Did you hear, I heard he was back?!”

“I can’t believe he’s back, I missed him so much!”

“I like Yuji’s kind and goofy personality, but how could you not love a bad boy like him?”

‘Bad boy?’

Carefully, you managed to find a gap between the sea of students and forcibly made yourself fit within the gap before badly struggling to make it through the arc of the classroom door leading you to nearly trip the second you got the chance to push through the gap to ender the class. Quickly looking around, you found your senior sitting next to someone who looked like your friend and basketball club member Itadori Yuji - well more like a mature replicant of the boy you were used to. However, unbothered by the sudden appearance of the new third-year, you speedily made your way to the council president and handed him the booklet that he needed today leading you to receive his gratitude.

Yet, before you could even take a single step away from your senior, you unexpectedly felt someone grab your wrist causing you to quickly turn around to find Itadori’s replica behind you leading to a few gasps coming from the students from the outside as well as in the homeroom.

“Is there an issue?” you firmly asked, as you looked down at his hand that had a tight grip on your wrist causing you to have a small glance at the two black bands that were tattooed around his wrist - even though it was prohibited to have any in your school, you weren’t the type to scold someone for having them since you weren’t sure on how the teacher’s thought it affected someone’s education.

“Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?” the salmon-haired third-year curiously asked, as he began to admire your wrist by gently turning it for your veins to come into view before beginning to trace your skin with the tip of his thumb causing a light shiver to go down your spine due to the ticklish feeling as well as his deep voice which was the complete opposite to what you thought it was going to be.

‘So this is the infamous Sukuna everyone was talking about’

“Not really,” you answered as you looked at him causing his eyes to look back at you before you continued with “I don’t think it would suit me at all,”.

“I disagree,” Sukuna counteracted, as he went back to admire the blank canvas of your wrist that he wanted to draw on so badly. No not draw. Mark. “I think you’ll suit something, maybe something on your neck or collarbone at best actually,” Sukuna mentioned leading you to give him a confused expression before he then proceeded with his speech by saying, “I’ll convince you one day and mark you brat”,

‘What...did….he….just….call….me..?’

“Ah...good luck with that idiot,” you stated in an annoyed tone leading to a few of the admiring student to gasp at your wording as well as sudden confident as they were scared on what was going to happen to you now since Sukuna wasn’t the type to tolerate insults in a nice way no matter what gender you were. However, exceeding the audience’s assumptions, Sukuna began to smirk excitedly at your attitude as he suddenly found you more interesting than any other girl he has met at the back of the school.

“Be prepared, little kitten”

                                               ꕥ

‘That nickname….’

Back then Sukuna was known to be a playboy from what you could recall, every week there was news on the new girl he had managed to convince to meet at the back alley of the school while you were just being a model student with the dream of going to law school. However, during the middle of the school year, you began to realise that the common scandalous news that seemed to be popular enough for it to be on the front cover of the newspaper began to gradually fade as Sukuna slowly pushed himself into your life since you were close with his twin brother due to your friend being part of the basketball team as the assistant coach - she even mentioned that ever since Sukuna came into your life he had stopped his acts and change slightly because of you to which, of course, you denied at the time.

It was during the first term of your third-year that you agreed to give Sukuna a chance since he was constantly annoying you by popping up at the school gate after school to ‘walk you home’ ever since his graduation - when in reality it was to take you out somewhere - without fail even when you had to stay in a few hours. However, you had given him three conditions since you were still conscious of the consequences of dating someone with such a disgraceful built reputation - much to his dismay, he shockingly agreed.

If you are going to have a fling with someone behind my back, don’t think about seeing or talking to me again.

I know you are sexually active, but you have to wait until I’m ready.

Don’t tattoo me.

Let’s just say that Sukuna had managed to keep condition number one in check and you didn’t have to worry about it at all, while with condition number two he didn’t have to wait that long for you to give in to your desires which you could tell he certainly enjoyed when you finally gave him the ‘okay’.

Number three though...

“Do you want to try that design out?”

Breaking from your daze, you quickly turned your head to find your boyfriend staring at you - with the bento box practically empty at this point - while tilting his head to the paper that was still within your grasp.

“I think you giving me hickeys are enough in my opinion, babe” you jokingly mentioned leading to both you and Sukuna laughing at each other slightly.

“I mean, do you want me to draw it on you to see how it looks?” he then asked, causing you to look at the floral design one last time before giving him a hesitant nod.

‘Trying it out won’t hurt right?’

“I need a confident answer little kitten, where did that feisty attitude of yours back in high school go?” Sukuna teased, causing you to give him the side glance before giving him the verbal permission that he wanted, leading him to smirk at you since knew his mockery would get you to give him what he wanted since you were also the stubborn type - a side that he always loved to play with.

Grabbing his pen and a black pot full of his thin-tipped coloured skin markers, he wheels his chair even closer to your before pausing, leading you to look at him in confusion since you had already pulled your wrist in front of him, the same area he had grabbed back in high school.

“You’re wearing a lot of clothing today,” Sukuna muttered as he began to fiddle with the collar of your white silk dress shirt causing you to look at him with extreme confusion before mentioning, “well it is getting colder since the Autumn season is coming around,” leading him to hum in an understanding tone as he continued to play with the smooth fabric.

“I want to draw on your collarbone area, I don’t want to draw on the area where the client wanted it to be,” Sukuna stated as he lightly pushed away your wrist leading you to realise why he paused. “You can,” you quickly mentioned leading the tattoo artist to look at you to see if you were lying, only to see nothing but the light of the trust within your eyes.

Slowly, Sukuna began to reach over to the top button to then unhook it from its loop before continuously doing the same with the others until enough skin of your shoulders were exposed with the top half of your shirt resting on the side of your arms to which then he slowly moved away the right-hand side of your bra strap to fully expose the canvas that he wanted to mark so eagerly.

Admiring the skin that was in front of him, Sukuna began to trace the area with his thumb before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on the same side of your neck before cradling your face on the other side with his other hand - as if it was a way for him to say ‘thank you’ for letting him do this.

Regrettably pulling away, Sukuna quickly grabbed his black pen as he then leaned in towards your collarbone to start drawing the outline of his design on his now favourite canvas causing you to shiver somehow due to how ticklish and weird the sensation felt when the ballpoint pen continuously gently gilded upon your skin. However, what got you shaking the most was the constant feeling of your boyfriend’s breath being felt on your upper body now that your shirt was basically off - it wasn’t completely off to the same feeling when you were underneath him the first time you allowed him to make his claim on you.

“Baby, it feels ticklish,” you commented, the second you felt a different sensation upon your skin leading Sukuna to glance up to check if you were alright like you were an actual client before placing another kiss on your jawline in a way to comfort you since he had switched to his skin markers to colour in the design he had drawn on you.

“You’re being a good kitten though, you’re not moving a lot then I thought you would,” the tattoo artist whispered leading you to quiver as his deep voice was not helping so much with your beating heart - erratic to the point where you thought he could hear or even feel.

Due to Sukuna concentrating, you couldn’t help but keep silent to help him continue with his work causing you to glance around your room with your eyes before landing upon a wall where there was a multitude of messages written leading you to carefully scan the writings that were visibly presenting themselves.

As expected, there were messages of encouragement - not that the arrogant Sukuna needed it to be honest, but it was nice of the client to do so - and a few drawings from other tattoo artists that Sukuna had famously done. However, not to your surprise, there were a few numbers here and there causing you to sigh since you couldn’t help it - you couldn’t blame your boyfriend for being an extremely handsome man.

Unexpectedly, you felt another kiss being placed upon your cheek causing you to look towards your boyfriend with a smile on your face - it was as if he knew what you were looking at. “I’m finished by the way,” Sukuna announced, causing you to look at him with widened eyes since the drawing session was a little faster than you had anticipated.

Reaching over to a drawer in his desk, Sukuna suddenly pulled out a mirror before passing it to you, leading you to lift up the little instrument to see the result that was drawn on your skin.

“You changed the design,” you quietly stated, as you began to tenderly trace the design with your index finger as you began to admire the piece of art that was masterfully drawn on your collar bone. The tattoo beautifully depicted a single strand of a blooming lavender across your collarbone with each petal in different shades of purple while the buds that weren’t in bloom were in a slight pale pink shade making you smile more since Sukuna drew this straight from his head causing you to have a hint of proudness for him.

“I wasn’t going to give you that previous design, it doesn’t suit you one bit,” the salmon-haired artist mentioned as he continued with, “I’m not going to let that disgusting design touch your skin, especially since this is the first time you let me mark you somewhat,” as he then moved behind you before placing his chin on your shoulder to look at you through the mirror you were holding.

“I might let you mark me permanently then,” you suddenly announced causing your boyfriend to look at you with a surprised look on his face leading you to giggle at his reaction.

“Yeah, let’s break condition three then, you can mark me this one time,” you informed him as you turned to look at him, causing Sukuna to give you his classic smirk before possessively grabbing your chin leading him to lean closer to you.

“Let me mark you then”

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

.

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

.

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

[slashbitch2]

Wavelength

slight nsfw warning ;)

Eve had always felt that she stood out from those around her. That in every situation, in every group and at every point in her life, she was walking round on an entirely different wavelength. Although, living this way wasn't as direly lonely as it sounded, rather she learnt to appreciate the few and far apart moments with company. When someone would, for just a split second, understand her.

The first person to ever make her feel this way, and regrettably the only for a very long time, was Ted. He'd swept her off her feet and into a less isolated world, a concept so unfamiliar at the time that she'd allowed herself be dragged out to sea. Then there was Brandon, who she was told would change her whole world. And he did, for a while.

Brandon was her life preserver until his priorities changed; until Mother's day cards became Valentines day cards, movie nights were exchanged for house parties and homework for alcohol. But Eve wasn't the kind of mom to act as though this behaviour was unwarranted and abhorrent, so she let him wedge the door shut and clear his search history. She could cope with a little more distance.

Then along came Ted's affair, their crumbling marriage and eventual divorce. Before she knew it, she was drowning.

The all too familiar feeling of solitude reappeared, completely devastating for her when Brandon left for college. However, this time she swore that she wouldn't let it overwhelm her, and did everything possible to prevent herself from sinking. Which initially started with a class at a community college, and ended with her lying in the arms of both her colleague Amanda, and classmate Julian. And yet, after they'd hurriedly packed up their things and left, she felt no better.

Brandon was sitting on the porch when she found him later. His back was turned to her, but the hunched up posture and awkward shuffling said more than enough. In that moment, Eve reverted back to her old way of thinking. She came to the conclusion that she'd failed as a mother, that her mistake was unforgivable despite the years of morose behaviour and selfish demeanour Brandon had subjected her to.

For retribution, she removed Julian's number from her contacts, predicting that he wouldn't be able cope with remaining friends. He too immature, still in that irrational sulky stage of adolescence. Next, she specified to Amanda that what happened was a one time thing, though she was already way ahead of Eve, chatting casually like nothing had taken place that weekend. Her easy-going reaction was a nice break from the prevailing tension with Brandon, which she then mentioned to her friend.

She tried to casually bring the subject up in the same manner that she imagined Amanda would if the roles were reversed, acting like the issue was nothing to do with her.

"As much as I hate to use such an outdated phrase," Her friend said. "boys will be boys. "

Eve chuckled, though the general concern weighing down on her shoulders meant it came out as more of a scoff. "You can say that again."

There's a brief lull in conversation as Eve disinterestedly taps away at her phone while Amanda sips thoughtfully at her coffee. The silence is only invoked by an awareness of social standards, since there's much Eve wants to talk to her friend about, but feels would be inappropriate in public.

Eventually, Amanda's the one to break the silence. "Are you still looking for someone to fill in for Sarah?"

Eve's attention flickered back to the woman sitting opposite. "I am." She replied hesitantly, knowing that she ought to have posted the job advertisement weeks ago, but had forgotten.

"I know someone who'd be good." Amanda was sliding her phone across the table before Eve got the chance to respond.

The screen displayed what she could only assume was a job application, though the font was too small to actually read. Squinting, she picked up the device to try and glean some information about the potential applicant.

Amanda continued as Eve scrolled. "She hasn't worked with seniors before, but has managerial experience."

"Are you sure she'd want this job?" Eve asked apprehensively as she set the phone down. "Seems a little over-qualified to me."

"Yeah, she's serious about it." Amanda's expression grew more determined. "Y/N just moved here. Mentioned she was looking for a more lowkey kind of job."

Eve remained doubtful.

"She's travelled a lot. Had a lot of different jobs." Amanda took another sip of her drink. "But she said she wants to settle down somewhere. Get a job that'll take her to retirement- which was an exaggeration, but you get the gist."

"Well." Eve sighed. "You can't get much closer to retirement than working at a nursing home."

"Exactly. So can I pass on her contact details then?"

"Sure." She shrugged. Assuming that her friend's recommendation was genuinely helpful, then she would be saved from suffering through the tedious interview process, which was worth taking a risk for.

---

As Eve sat at her desk, the world around her faded into obscurity. Without Sarah as the assistant manager, she'd been suffocating under piles of neglected paperwork, only now forcing her way through it. The main thought motivating her was that you were due to arrive any minute, for what she'd described as a first informal interview. The idea of conducting anything more formal this late into the evening was unappealing. So, based on the unusual circumstance by which you'd applied, and the strange time slot reserved, the interview would be more casual.

Finding that her eyes were starting to strain, she granted herself a quick break to look round the office. Eventually she settled on looking out the window, content watching the world pass by. The day had been unexpectedly hot, and some of that humidity still lingered, but judging by the gentle breeze filtering in through a crack in the window, the evening must've started to cool. A soft pink colour filled the sky, darkening to orange where the sun had just set over the horizon. From the other direction, a deep blue had begun to filter into view, the only indication that night was approaching.

When her gaze drifted back to the room, she realised that the pink light was cast around the room, bathing every surface in a delicate glow. How the simple beauty of the evening had previously escaped her attention was a mystery. One that prompted Eve to take a break to admire it.

The break was short-lived, however, as a sharp knock at the door quickly stole her attention away.

"Come in." She called out but found her voice hoarse from disuse. She frantically cleared her throat as the guest entered.

Eve looked up at you and smiled politely, then down at her desk, then did a double take. Although she hadn't given enough thought to form any preconceived image of what you might look like, she certainly hadn't expected someone quite so attractive.

As soon as the label crossed her mind, she was already berating herself for it. You'd barely entered the room and were here for business, she couldn't let herself think of you in that way. It was wrong. Both professionally and morally.

"Evening." Your voice was deep, smooth and with an accent she couldn't distinguish.

Eve tried her best to smile amiably, though she was sure the emotion wasn't reflected in her eyes. Instead she scanned your body from top to bottom, lingering on your neck, and then your hands. The action was automatic. An unintentional response to her attraction- and there it was again. She'd allowed herself to get distracted barely ten seconds later.

"Hi." Eve was too quiet, her tone lacking the necessary command. She swallowed. "Please, take a seat." And smiled, this time more genuinely.

"Thank you."

She watched you stiffly slide into the seat, effortlessly demanding the attention of the entire room. Although Eve had known you for less than a minute, she'd already decided that there was something hypnotic about the way you moved. From the slight twitch in the corner of your lips, to the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Every movement, regardless of it being barely perceptible, had her mesmerized, however she was mostly fixated on your hands. How they couldn't quite settle in your lap, rather were wrung about anxiously until abruptly stilling.

Your hands falling limp dragged Eve back into reality as it dawned on her that she'd been staring for a little longer than appropriate. She literally had to shake herself out of the senseless state and clear her throat once more before she was ready to continue.

"It's nice to meet you." Jolted into reality, she outstretched her hand, which you eagerly met. Your grip was firm, matched with a confident yet humble smile that looked well practiced.

"And you."

Eve already understood how you'd succeeded at accumulating such an impressive employment history, as every second of the interview so far, you'd acted perfectly. Like you'd written the book on 'How to Handle Job Interviews.'

"Just call me Eve." Separating from the handshake, she dismissively waved her hand, unable to hold the eye contact for any longer. There was an inquisitive manner to the way you were watching her, as though you were trying to ascertain the most information possible from appearance alone. Being exposed to your scrutinising glare caused Eve to shift in her seat, though not from discomfort or uneasiness, rather from inadmissible lust.

As the interview progressed, her eyes continued to occasionally stray toward your hands. Despite how hard she was trying to stay focused, she kept catching herself unintentionally imagining how they'd look gripping her waist, pushing apart her thighs. And if she blocked out this particular fantasy, then her attention would shift to your neck, and how she'd love to bite down on the supple skin presented to her.

She'd hoped that her fling with Amanda and Julian would've suppressed her incorrigible longing for pleasure, yet still found her thighs pressing together as her imagination overpowered reason. All the scandalous scenarios flashing through her mind only grew more vivid, more frequent. An incessant stream of borderline pornographic images, which worsened her guilt as she struggled to focus on what you were saying.

The cool breeze from earlier seemed to have vanished, replaced by unbearable humidity. She could feel herself sweating bucket loads, and only flushed more upon realising that she must've looked a mess; with stray hairs framing her face, an inability to sit still and a layer of perspiration covering her entire body. You'd probably noticed by now.

"God it's been hot recently." You commented, playing with the neckline of your shirt.

Had Eve not been observing you so closely, she would've guessed this was general small-talk. But judging on how you'd acted so far, this was a strategically placed act of mercy, a way of excusing her, no doubt, dishevelled appearance.

"Yeah." Eve chuckled, twirling a strand of hair round her finger. "We could move outside." She suggested, then quickly added. "If you wanted to, that is." Her desperation to please you came as a surprise. The roles should've been reversed. You should've been trying to impress her.

Eve had undeniably lost all authority in the situation, which simply excited her further.

---

When Eve laughed, she scrunched up her face and closed her eyes, which was inconvenient even at the best of times. Right now, however, she'd never despised the quirk quite so much.

As inconsequential as the current circumstances would look to any passer-by, she wanted to commit every detail to memory. From the lingering pink hue of dusk, to the way you threw your head back as you laughed. In fact, she wanted to memorise everything about you. Since leaving behind her stuffy office, conversation had flown easily between the two of you, the matter of employment seemingly dropped in place of getting to know one another. You'd indisputably gotten the job. Eve knew it. You knew it. So both were happy to indulge in a lighter tone of conversation.

The topic had turned to worst first date experiences, so she had very few to share with you, though that didn't stop her from enjoying listening to your little anecdotes.

"What about you?" Taking a calming breath after an outburst of laughter, you paused to ask her the dreaded question.

In comparison to your story, her worst date was relatively tame. "Well." She scratched at the corner of her eye, considering whether she could exaggerate in some way. "I went on a date recently that I had to walk out of."

"Really?" You folded your arms, leaning back against the brick wall. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I guess it just didn't feel right." She shook her head, hoping to deter any more questioning.

"Fair enough. Sometimes you just know- right?"

Eve drew her eyes away from being locked on the ground, finally summoning the resolve to look directly back at you. She bit her lip, compelling herself to nod.

There was something about you that was pure ecstasy to her. While looking at you, she could feel herself falling deeper into the hypnotic state she'd been in earlier, unable to tear her eyes away and unwilling to try. In spite of the normality of the situation, it felt meaningful. Eve didn't feel so alone, so out of place. Which made no sense to her as she'd known you for barely over an hour.

"What did you do after?" Your voice was somehow deeper, eyes lidded and posture relaxed. "After the date." You clarified.

The inquiry was personal, even without context that could be inferred. Eve hummed, delaying her response long enough to consider how much she was willing to divulge. "I-" She laughed nervously, suddenly embarrassed to confess. "I went swimming."

"Swimming?" Your eyebrows shot up, amused by the many connotations of her vagueness. "Where?"

Eve scuffed the heel of her shoe against the concrete ground, shamefully incapable of returning the eye contact. "Here." She admitted quietly, grinning as if in disbelief that she'd actually done it.

"Wow. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting that." You took a deep breath, rendered speechless for a second. "So, you have access to the pool?"

Eve shifted restlessly, hesitant to pursue the topic any further. She knew where this was going, and that she shouldn't endorse this type of behaviour. But the heat wasn't helping, and neither was her overactive imagination. She was supposed to be responsible, but then again, so were you.

Inevitably the possibilities of what could be overpowered her better judgement. "Yes." She reached into her pocket, producing the coveted key ring and hanging it on her pointer finger.

Upon glancing up, she discovered you were watching her intently, indisputable lust reflected in your eyes. Eve found herself in one of those rare moments where she felt understood, on the same wavelength as someone else. The logical part of her brain argued that you were basically a stranger. That if she followed through on your shared idea, then your hiring and subsequent job experience would be forever tainted. But the possibilities were too tempting to ignore.

So when you asked. "Want to go swimming?"

She couldn't refuse.

---

You'd held her hand as she'd lead, the reasoning being that most the facility was shrouded in darkness. Though Eve liked the weight of your hand in hers, so she didn't bother to turn the lights on until reaching the pool. Only then did you separate, crouching down to check the temperature. You beamed with childlike joy as you waved your hand around in the water, skimming the surface then diving deeper down.

Eve grinned. Your pure happiness was infectious, the effect it had on her similar to being drunk. She was intoxicated from exhilaration. She would've been content watching you relish in the feeling of water running through your fingers for eternity, though to her dismay, you soon grew bored. And then to her surprise, you unabashedly began to strip. Her eyes were glued to the expanse of your back as you pulled your shirt over your head, and to the revealed skin as you tugged your trousers down.

She had to stop herself from stumbling back as the strange reality of the situation suddenly dawned on her. Instead, she reacted by comically clutching at her heart, clawing the fabric of her own shirt.

You turned to the side, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. "You coming?"

She chewed on her lip, pondering the two words in greater detail. This was you asking for consent, giving a final warning. You were both aware that this was an incredibly outlandish idea, an extremely irresponsible one that should've discouraged Eve. Yet it had the opposite effect.

Before she could overthink the consequences, her shaking hands were clumsily unbuttoning her blouse. At the unspoken confirmation, you smirked back at her, then without warning, threw yourself into the pool. The splash echoed round the room, proceeded by carefree laughter as you resurfaced and began leisurely swimming away from her. While you were busy, Eve took the chance to continue undressing without interference.

Her insecurities didn't emerge until it was too late, resolved moments later as she dove into the pool. The water was colder than she'd anticipated, but her burning desire dulled the intensity. Breaking through the water's surface, she inhaled deeply, grateful for the supply of oxygen. However, her breath was soon stolen from her as she noticed you were treading water directly in front.

Somehow, you looked even more beautiful now. With the wave's reflections dancing across your skin, your hair drenched and dripping. She wanted to chase after the droplets with her tongue, despite knowing she'd likely be met with the bitter taste of chlorine. But what really flustered Eve was the way you were staring at her; the hunger in your eyes that hinted at your intentions.

Your stillness was teasing her, the water practically stagnant around you both. Eve was becoming increasingly irritated, the heat between her legs only growing. So it didn't take long for her to snap. She lunged forward in an attempt to grab hold of you, though her hands couldn't quite clutch onto your slippery skin. She stumbled to the left, floundering around until you grabbed hold of her.

Upon securing her grip, she froze, due to both the sensation of your body pressed up against hers, and her embarrassment. She couldn't bare to look up, to face her awkward failure. After a beat of silence, she heard you laugh lightly. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant or mocking, but she insisted on keeping her eyes locked on the wall. That was, until your lips gently brushed against her ear.

"Were you trying to kiss me or drown me?"

She snorted, the tension leaving her body, then turned to rest her forehead on your shoulder. "The former. Definitely."

You laughed again. This time Eve joined in, happy to ignore what'd just occurred.

"Want to try that again, then?" You kissed just behind her ear, causing a shiver to suffuse across Eve's body. She waited a minute, expecting more before realising you intended for her to make the next move.

She glanced up at your face, fixating on your lips. You were so close. All she had to do was lean forward ever so slightly. One final glance to your lidded eyes confirmed you wanted the same- all she had to do was close the distance.

Taking a shaky breath, Eve shifted a hand up to cup your cheek, her thumb softly stroking your skin. There was no rush; you both wanted the same thing and were eager to revel in the experience. So, when her lips finally grazed against yours, there was no deep sigh or sudden change in pace, rather a blooming warmth in her chest. She was floating, both literally and metaphorically in a sea affection.

She kissed you again, this time with more conviction. Then fell backwards, her feet now comfortably resting on the bottom of the pool, her back hitting the wall as your grip on her waist tightened. You dragged a hand across her chest, causing her to gasp. Your touch was scolding compared to the cool water. A perfect balance between lustful heat and a mind-numbing, all-encompassing chill.

She raised her arms, flinging them around you and exhaling as her impatience reappeared. Though thankfully, you didn't make her wait long. Soon enough, your mouth had latched onto her neck, leaving messy kisses from behind her ear, to down by her shoulders. The feeling was pure bliss, encouraging her to lean into you and press your bodies closer together.

She didn't need to say anything. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Like you had her body memorised: every caress was perfectly placed, each touch just what she needed. It didn't take long for Eve to reach her pleasure, although she did spend a while in a dazed state of satisfaction, simply drifting in your arms. Eventually, she regained awareness to feel you tenderly nibbling on her lower lip, and eagerly reciprocated the kiss.

Motivated by the sudden fervour, she switched the positions, pushing you up to the wall.

"Get on the ledge." Eve murmured against your lips. She looped her arms under your thighs, ready to lift once you'd agreed.

Surprised by her abrupt confidence, you quirked an eyebrow, but obeyed nonetheless.

With you sat before her, she knew the evening was only just beginning, and judging by your breathless expression you felt exactly the same. This was one of those rare moments where Eve felt completely understood.

[bjy-on-ao3]

Kinktober 2021, Day 4

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

This is another one that probably could have been longer, and I’m not 100% sure if it fits the prompt as planned. I’m hoping it’s still likable though, all things considered!

Summary Sometimes things don’t go quite as planned. When Reader’s plans to spend the day with Barbatos are interrupted, they try to get their way, even if it means getting in the way of work.

Tags/Warnings Blindfolds, Bondage. Creampie, Gags, Kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Oneshot, Prompt, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex

Kinktober 2021, 04: Brat Taming (Reader x Barbatos | Obey Me!)

You had gone to visit Barbatos that day expecting to spend some quality time with him, having finally arranged a day when he wasn’t swamped tending to the needs of the prince and the castle. Shortly after arriving, abuzz with excitement to finally have some alone time with him, Barbatos had received news that an impromptu celebration was being held the next evening - meaning whatever spare time he left to him was suddenly gone.

The news had made you cross to hear, knowing that Barbatos would be required in the kitchens on such short notice, though you had tried to hide your discomfort. To your credit, you thought you had done an admirable job when all a part of you really wanted to do was protest how unfair the latest arrangement was. But Barbatos was dutiful to a fault, and directly fussing over things would do little good.

Instead, you took the opposite route, and offered your help, thinking perhaps additional hands involved in the chore might lend it to be completed more swiftly. Unfortunately, you had vastly underestimated just how much work needed to be, as well as how much patience you had for it. The first couple hours of work had gone on well enough, but it seemed to be unending. You found yourself tiring of the tedious tasks, internally groaning at the work left before you still. Briefly, you wondered if the assignment was actually some curse neither of you was quite aware of, but you quickly dismissed the absurd thought.

You paused in the middle of stirring a bowl of ingredients, glancing out of the corner of your eyes to Barbatos busily plowing through each new culinary task, little phasing him. He was the picture of efficiency and focus, and the kitchen air was heavy with the various smells of seasonings and sweet flavorings, and citrus courtesy of his efforts. You watched him work as inconspicuously as possible for a moment, a new idea slowly coming to you. An idea that was far more alluring, though one admittedly much less productive than the task at hand.

Turning your attention half-heartedly to the bowl in front of you, returning to stirring, you finished it and pushed it aside. You searched for a proper excuse for the scheme you were hatching, finding it in a multitude of bottles and jars of ingredients for some of the next things on Barbatos’ long list of to-make recipes. Resuming the guise of a hard-working assistant eager to assist with the prepping and cooking, you moved to gather more ingredients and dishes, brushing purposefully close to Barbatos as you went by. You leaned forward to gather a bottle or two, reaching around him and feigning a hint of clumsiness that led to stray touches.

Lights taps and pats on his shoulders and arms played off as helping you balance. Strokes on his waist or hip, daring to creep a little lower. All manner of touches that seemed innocent enough. But you knew, or rather hoped, that it might distract Barbatos and broach his focus,  and potentially lure him away from his chore. He remained just as unphased as before, though, hardly giving you a second look, save to courteously steady you or to make a polite quip to be a bit more careful.

After several unsuccessful attempts, you frowned at your lack of progress. Though you weren’t to be put off so easily and moved onto your next plan of action without lingering on the thought too long. You stood closer while you worked on your latest project, mashing an assortment of ingredients and fragrant herbs into a mortar beside Barbatos. Still grinding the contents, you subtly slipped your spare hand down, reaching more brazenly for Barbatos’ thigh. Your fingers brushed the cloth of his pants, creeping inward more slowly.

Barbatos cleared his throat pointed, his only acknowledgment of your attempt before he caught your hand by the wrist, pulling it gently away before you could properly feel him up as you had planned. You pouted again, further frustrated by his determination to ignore you. You still weren’t done yet, though. You tried the same thing, making the motion less obvious, more alike to an accidental slip. But even then, Barbatos dismissed your wandering hands, stopping only to speak for a moment, but not to address your meddling in the way you had hoped.

The look on his face was sterner than before, a hint of warning to stem your interruptions and focus. “Now isn’t the time. There’s far too much work to be done.”

You met his words and stern expression with a stare of your own, though one much more petulant. You silently huffed, fuming and pouting further, staring down into the muddled mass in the mortar. While you considered your options next, you went back to actively helping prepare batters and sauces, and icings. Barbatos moved away several times, pausing to place unbaked cakes and pastries into the large ovens or put assembled treats away to chill until the next day.

At some point, he returned to the counters with a platter of golden brown pastries assembled in an orderly pile. It was obviously one that had set for some time already, the tops of the stacks already topped with stiff peaks of colorful whipped frosting. As Barbatos turned away to resume work, a new scheme sprung into your head, prompted by the confections set out before you.

For much of the work before, Barbatos had only stopped to give you more than passing attention - or at least you had thought - to offer advice, or give you instructions. At last, though, he looked toward you, recognizing how you looked when you were truly onto some new plan. Barbatos had kept a careful amount of his attention dedicated to you, though you hadn’t yet realized.

He was good at feeling out when you had a mind to try and cause trouble or to grab his attention, whatever the situation. He had known as well that once you started, you weren’t going to give up easily, even if it meant acting rather childishly in your determination. He recognized the look on your face as you eyed the decorated pastries. When you glanced over, checking if he was paying you any mind, he knew you were about the act up again.

Sure enough, you set down your current tool, reaching your newly free hand in the direction of the pastries. The sharp, sudden mention of your name though made you flinch and halt with your arm outstretched.

“Haven’t you misbehaved enough for one evening?” Barbatos said evenly. The words had still startled you, even though you had been aware you had more of his attention than before.

Your nostrils flared, and you blew out an angry huff, recognizing the tone of Barbatos’ voice and debating your next move. Should you behave and drop it for the night? No, that wasn’t an option. You had to push your luck, challenge him. Your irritation demanded nothing less.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to misbehave if you’d pay me more attention in the first place,” you snapped back in defiance. You turned back to the pastries from before, thrusting a finger toward the large pile of frosting on the pastries’ peaks arranged in an ornate pattern.

“I know you understand those for tomorrow,” Barbatos continued, his voice still even, but more warning, accompanied by another commanding call of your name.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to keep waiting,” you snapped, though it was quite clear it wasn’t sweet treats you were being impatient about.

You looked at Barbatos markedly, turning and dipping your finger into the frosting and scooping out a section, ruining part of the decoration. Looking back, you raised the coated finger to your lips. His gloved hand caught your wrist again, more firmly than before, and when his eyes locked with yours, his glare was piercing and cool. You suppressed a shudder but refused to break or back down.

“That’s enough,” he declared sternly.

What he did next was in stark contrast to the tone of his voice. He didn’t release your hand immediately, instead tipping your frosting coated finger toward him and sucking it into his mouth. His tongue rolled hotly over your digit, cleaning the sticky, cloyingly sweet icing from it. Your brows shot up, and another shiver threatened to creep down your spine while you swallowed hard. You had gotten the attention you had so petulantly been trying to achieve from Barbatos, but at the same time, it had shattered your resolve.

That attention was lingering, though, a taste to quiet and rattle you.

“I think it’s time you retired for the night,” Barbatos decided after pulling your finger from his mouth and letting your wrist free, foregoing any more contact with you and leaving you wanting, stirred up from that one action alone. Yet, there was something mischievous, almost dangerous in his tone, something that rang familiar. “You will wait up for me. When I am done, we will discuss this. Have I made myself clear?”

You nodded meekly, your streak of mischief shaken and relegated to the back of your mind. “Yes,” you answered quietly. Your mouth felt dry, and a tenseness grew in you, something halfway between anticipation and uncertainty.

“Excuse me?” Barbatos questioned expectantly.

“Yes, sir, perfectly clear,” you added, his words prompting you to remember your ‘manners’.

“Good.”

Barbatos turned back to the counters, leaving no room for further dispute. You saw yourself out of the kitchens, calming your thumping heart down as you went. You flagged down a Little D, requesting aid to return to the guest room you normally stayed in when you came to visit Barbatos or stayed in the castle for any other occasion. You gave your thanks upon reaching the room, closing the door behind you and flopping onto the bed with a frustrated sigh.

You tried to preoccupy yourself for a while thereafter, browsing apps and messages on your DDD, answering friends, and checking in on the demon brothers. It could all only keep your attention for so long, though, and eventually, you drifted off to sleep from boredom with the device at your side. ---

You weren’t sure how long you had slept when the soft click of the bedroom door awoke you. You glanced blearily to the door, just able to make out Barbatos’ silhouette against the darkness of the room. Though the outline of him was difficult to see, he was hard to miss in other ways. As he approached the bed, the ominous glow of his eyes, casting his face in a sickly green pallor, was the most noticeable feature.

You jolted up on the bed, recalling Barbatos’ instructions to wait up for him. But it was too late - Barbatos had already seen you sprawled out asleep on the bed, disobeying him once more. Passingly, you noted you hadn’t been the one to turn the lights off in the bedroom.

The bed sank with Barbatos’ weight when he reached the foot of it. He poised himself over you on his hands and knees, and you instinctively sank back against the sheets. As he leaned down, something cool, thick, and scaly curled purposefully around one of your thighs, teasing slowly further.

“Misbehaving again, already? You’ve been very insolent today. I’ll need to give you a much more thorough lesson this time, won’t I?”

[biletdoux]

stages of love | j.jh TEASER

Pairing: jung jaehyun (nct) + female!reader

Rating: G (teaser), M (completed work)

Genre + Tropes: college!au, romance (angst, fluff, smut)

Warnings: none (in the teaser), full warning list will be posted with completed work

Length: 1.7k+ (teaser), TBA (completed work)

Summary: A playlist for the trials and tribulations of a beating heart.

(Or; your relationship with Jung Jaehyun in ten songs.)

Note: I didn’t intend to post a teaser, but maybe it will motivate me to write faster if I at least just put something out?? maybe lol. Story is based on an 8track playlist I found years ago which has been lost over time. I tried writing this story many times, but I finally got to it, so we’ll see how it goes. Let me know what you think ! <333

1. Peach by IU

smitten at first sight.

“How can I explain this feeling?”

“Alright, I think that sums up about everything we need to cover for today’s lecture. Remember, most of this will be in your final exam. Any questions before you’re all dismissed?” 

Your professor looks up from the board, scans the room and all he sees are most of the students waiting with bated breath, itching to leave the class, and half of those students having already packed their belongings in anticipation. He held them back an extra twenty five minutes today, which is notably longer than previous lectures in which he delayed dismissal.

“Okay, you’re free to go. Chapters nineteen and twenty are due the next time we meet.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, ready to head out with the rest of the class. You like Professor Jang and find that he makes history somewhat digestible, but he had a tendency to lose track of time, which is inconvenient, but more so today since you had agreed to meet up with Yeri. You glance at your phone to see text notifications and curse to yourself. You’re already ten minutes late and Yeri is many things and impatient is one of them. 

You’re one of the first out of the small lecture hall and you shoot her a quick reply before making your way to the oncampus cafe. Through quickened strides and shortcuts engrained from cross-campus treks from class to class, you arrive in record time. You’re slightly out of breath and impressed by your speed, but you stop, frozen in your tracks when you see Yeri’s displeased face. You find her situated in a small, but cozy corner next to the windows, already unpacked with notebooks and papers strewn on the desk ready to review for exams. It's one of the best study spots in the cafe and you immediately know your best friend had to come extra early to nab such a sought after table. 

“About time,” she scowls, “what took you so long?”

You shoot her an apologetic look, “aww, Yeri,” you pout your lips a little too dramatically, “I’m sorry. I just came from history and you know how Professor Jang is.” 

Yeri looks at your jutted lips in disgust, but then her face softens in consideration. “Hm, I do know Jang.” She scrunches up her nose remembering her time in his class last semester. “That old man can talk for days on end and he never lets anyone leave class early. I guess I’ll let you go this time.” 

You beam at her knowing she’s no longer angry for your tardiness. “Great, drinks are on me today. It’s the least I can do for being late.” Yeri forgives as easily and as quickly as she loses her temper. You learned this after a few weeks of being her roommate. 

Yeri says nothing in silent agreement and you place your stuff down across the table next to the chair she reserved for you. You pull out your wallet and weave through the packed cafe to head to the order counter. The line is long and you patiently review the menu. Your roommate has consistent tastes and always orders a vanilla frappuccino regardless of which cafe she goes to, but you base your decision on your mood. You mull over your choices and by the time you reach the barista taking your order, you decide you’re in an ‘iced Americano’ kind of mood today. You have exams on top of exams you need to review for and a stronger caffeine kick is much needed.

After paying, you head back to the table with two drinks in tow. Yeri takes her drink and after you both take a few sips and catch up for the day, you dive straight to work. The two of you decide to review for statistics. 

Between re-summarizing chapters and answering review questions, you muse to yourself about how your college experience thus far hasn't been that much different from your high school life. You didn’t necessarily hate high school, per say, but it was safe to say you didn’t enjoy it. Your heart was in the arts, specifically music, and you had found studying the core subjects to be boring and tedious. You remember being ecstatic to have been accepted and enrolled in a music college, foolishly thinking your days of solving differential equations and memorizing chemical formulas were over. You specifically remember daydreaming of your hours being filled with keyboard practice and composition notes and only such things. Somehow the reality of mandatory general education courses slipped your mind when you constructed such fantasies.

Despite frivolous and preconceived notions of college, you have already survived a semester and you are nearly through your second. 

“Hey, do you remember when this stats assignment is due?” Yeri’s inquiring voice snaps you out of your brief reverie and you search your cluttered brain for a date.

“Uh, I think it’s due, like, a few days before the final, but I’d have to double check.” 

Yeri nods. “Alright, well let’s take a small break. We have some time till then, we don’t have to finish all of it today.” 

You happily agree and set down your pen. Yeri takes a sip of her frappuccino and you lean over the table to get closer to her. “Anyway, did you hear about what happened with Jiwon and Youngjae from the entertainment management department?”

Her eyes glisten with wicked interest. “No. Do tell.”

Break time is always synonymous with gossip hour between you and Yeri. 

You spend the next fifteen minutes dishing what you know and Yeri offers her own input whenever she feels fit. 

“And they think they’re being discreet, but the whole dorm knows they’ve been sneaking around, but guess wha─” Before you can finish your sentence, you were cut off by a loud and energetic voice calling out Yeri’s name.

The two of you look up to see a slim and boyish brunet waving to Yeri and excitedly making his way to your table. He looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it, so you let it go.

He smiles happily at Yeri and greets her. “Hey Yeri, how’s it going?” He notices you there and gives you a polite wave, which you return in the same manner.

Yeri replies back breezily, but with her full attention. “Good. Did you need anything, Mark?” 

He flushes just the slightest bit, but it doesn’t escape your eyes. “Erm, nothing I just wanted to remind you that we’re meeting for the music theory project tomorrow at four. I would’ve texted, but I forgot to get your number in class, and I saw you here and thought it was a good opportunity to tell you.” 

Yeri’s eyes widen, “ah right! I completely forgot about it. It’s a good thing you found me here today, huh? Here, I’ll give you my number.”

She reaches her hand out her hand expectantly, and Mark is confused before scrambling to pull out his phone. You can tell Mark looks flustered while Yeri is calmly putting in her contact information. After finishing, she hands his phone back, “okay, all set. Just shoot me a text so I have your number as well. Thanks for reminding me today or I probably would’ve forgotten and not have shown up.” 

Mark smiles again, this time a little more sure than before. “All good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Yeri.” 

They wave goodbye and you watch Mark scamper from the cafe. Your eyes follow him, but Yeri is already focused on you again, paying Mark’s retreating form no mind. 

“So…” you start.

“So?” She returns.

“He’s cute.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she shrugs. “I barely know him though. We have music theory together, but this is the first time we’ve talked all semester and we’re only talking because we got paired up for a project.”

Yeri seems apathetic and you study her closely. You notice she’s acting a little too stiffly carefree to be truly indifferent to the situation. You can’t help, but to tease her a bit. “Well, make the most out of this project then.”

Yeri gives you a hard look and you decide to let it go despite finding your best friend’s situation to be amusing. 

“Anyway, keep telling me about Jiwon and Youngjae. You never finished.” Yeri changes the topic, knowing that you might decide to pester her again if she doesn’t.

“As I was saying,” you started up again. A figure outside catches your attention and you peer outside through the window past Yeri’s shoulders. You realize it’s Mark and you watch with interest as he gestures excitedly, pointing to something in his hand, you assume his phone, to some of his friends. From there your eyes wander absentmindedly from one person to the next, and it’s when you see him. 

The reaction is almost instantaneous. 

“Like you were saying?” Yeri urges, but her words fall on deaf ears, for all your attention is captured by the boy next to Mark with heart-shaped lips.

When you see said boy laugh, you notice he has moon for eyes and you unconsciously suck in a sharp breath. You must have been staring too intently without noticing because he turns his head in your direction and you two hold direct eye contact. Like a deer caught in headlights, you freeze and lose all rational thought. Your head is completely blank. You have never seen someone so beautiful and your mind does not know how to process any sensory information at the moment.

Someone calls the boy away and the entire group of friends leave. It’s only then do you find yourself releasing a breath you didn’t know you had been holding onto so tightly. Your heart is pounding and you feel as though blood is rushing through your ears. 

“Hello?” Yeri sounds annoyed, but you struggle to find the words to answer her. 

You feel a sudden heat rush to color your cheeks a vibrant red and a feeling surges through you that leaves you out of breath and weak at the knees. A steady warmth washes over you quietly and you feel it deep within yourself and you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

How silly, you muse. Not to be dramatic, but you think you’re in love.

[queenlua]

hey, i started following you recently and ur bio says ur a hacker? any tips on where to start? hacking seems like a v cool/fun way to learn more abt coding and cybersecurity/infrastructure and i'd like to explore it but there's so much on the internet and like, i'm not trying to get into anything illegal. thanks!

huh, an interesting question, ty!

i can give more tailored advice if you hit me up on chat with more specifics on your background/interests.

given what you've written here, though, i'll just assume you don't have any immediate professional aspirations (e.g. you just want to learn some things, and you aren't necessarily trying to get A Cyber Security Job TM within the next three months or w/e), and that you don't know much about any specific programming/computering domain yet.

(stuff under cut because long)

first i'd probably just try to pick some interesting problem that you think you can solve with tech. this doesn't need to be a "hacking" project at first; i was just messing around with computers for ages before i did anything involving security/exploitation.

if you don't already know how to program, you should ideally pick a problem you can solve via programming. for instance: i learned a lot back in the 2000s, when play-by-post forum RPGs were in vogue.  see, i'd already been messing around, building my own personal sites, first just with HTML & CSS, and later on with Javascript and PHP.   and i knew the forum software everyone used (InvisionPowerBoard) was written in PHP.  so when one of the admins at my RPG complained that they'd like the ability to set multiple profile pictures, i was like, "hey i'm good at programming, want me to create a mod to do that," and then i just... did. so then they asked me to program more features, and i got all the sexy nerd cred for being Forum Mod Queen, and it was a good time, i learned a lot.

(i also got to be the person who was frantically IMed at 2am because wtf the forum is down and there's an inscrutable error, what do??? basically sysadmining! also, much less sexy! still, i learned a lot!)

the key thing is that it's gotta be a problem that's interesting to you: as much as i love making dorky sites in PHP, half the fun was seeing other people using my stuff, and i think the era of forum-based RPGs has passed. but maybe you can apply some programming talents to something that you are interested in—maybe you want to make a silly Chrome extension to make people laugh, a la Cloud to Butt, or maybe you'd like to make a program that converts pixel art into cross-stitching patterns, maybe you want to just make a cool adventure game on those annoying graphing calculators they make you use in class, or make a script for some online game you play, or make something silly with Arduino (i once made a trash can that rolled toward me when i clapped my hands; it was fun, and way easier than you'd think!), whatever.

i know a lot of hacker-types who got their start doing ROM hacking for video games—replacing the character art or animations or whatever in old NES games. that's probably more relevant than the PHP websites, at least, and is probably a solid place to get started; in my experience those communities tend to be reasonably friendly to questions. pick a small thing you want to do & ask how to do it.

also, a somewhat unconventional path, but—once i knew how to program a bit of Python, i started doing goofy junk, like, "hey can i implemented NamedTuple from scratch,” which tends to lead to Python metaprogramming, which leads to surprising shit like "oh, stack frames are literally just Python objects and you can manually edit them in the interpreter to do deliberately horrendous/silly things, my god this language allows too much reflection and i'm having too much fun"... since Python is a lot of folks' first language these days, i thought i'd point that out, since i think this is a pretty accessible start to thinking about How Programs Actually Work under the hood. allison kaptur has some specific recommendations on how to poke around, if you wanna go that route.

it's reasonably likely you'll end up doing something "hackery" in the natural course of just working on stuff. for instance, while i was working on the IPB forum software mods, i became distressed to learn that everyone was using an INSECURE version of the software! no one was patching their shit!! i yelled at the admins about it, and they were like "well we haven't been hacked yet so it's not a problem," so i uh, decided to demonstrate a proof of concept? i downloaded some sketchy perl script, kicked it until it worked, logged in as the admins, and shitposted a bit before i logged out, y'know, to prove my point.

(they responded by banning me for two weeks, and did not patch their software. which, y'know, rip to them; they got hacked by an unrelated Turkish group two months later, and those dudes just straight-up deleted the whole website. i was a merciful god by comparison!)

anyway, even though downloading a perl script and just pointing it at a website isn't really "hacking" (it's the literal definition of script kiddie, heh)—the point is i was just experimenting a lot and trying a lot of stuff, which meant i was getting comfortable with thinking of software as not just some immutable relic, but something you can touch and prod in unexpected ways.

this dovetails into the next thing, which is like, just learn a lot of stuff. a boring conventional computer science degree will teach you a lot (provided you take it seriously and actually try to learn shit); alternatively, just taking the same classes as a boring conventional computer science degree, via edX or whatever free online thingy, will also teach you a lot. ("contributing to open source" also teaches you a lot but... hngh... is a whole can of worms; send a follow-up ask if you want that rant.)

here's where i should note that "hacking" is an impossibly broad category: the kind of person who knows how to fuck with website authentication tokens is very different than someone who writes a fuzzer, who is often quite different than someone who looks at the bug a fuzzer produces and actually writes a program that can exploit that bug... so what you focus on depends on what you're interested in. i imagine classes with names like "compilers," "operating systems," and "networking" will teach you a lot. but, like, idk, all knowledge is god-breathed and good for teaching. hell, i hear some universities these days have actual computer security classes? that's probably a good thing to look at, just to get a sense of what's out there, if you already know how to program.

also be comfortable with not knowing everything, but also, learn as you go. the bulk of my security knowledge came when i got kinda airdropped into a work team that basically hired me entirely on "potential" (lmao), and uh, prior to joining i only had the faintest idea what a hypervisor was? or the whole protection ring concept? or ioctls or sandboxing or threat models or, fuck, anything? i mostly just pestered people with like 800 questions and slowly built up a knowledge base, and remember being surprised & delighted when i went to a security conference a year later and could follow most of the talks, and when i wound up at a bar with a guy on the xbox security team and we compared our security models a bunch, and so on.  there wasn't a magic moment when i "got it", i was just like, "okay huh this dude says he found a ring-0 exploit... what does that mean... okay i think i got that... why is that a big deal though... better ask somebody.." (also: reading an occasional dead tree book is a good idea. i owe my firstborn to Robert Love's Linux Kernel Development, as outdated as it is, and also O'Reilly's kookaburra book gave me a great overview of web programming back in the day, etc.  you can learn a lot by just clicking around random blogs, but you’ll often end up with a lot of random little facts and no good mental scaffolding for holding it together; often, a decent book will give you that scaffolding.)

(also, it's pretty useful if you can find a knowledgable someone to pepper with random questions as you go. finding someone who will actively mentor you is tricky, but most working computery folks are happy to tell you things like "what you're doing is actually impossible, here's why," or "here's a tutorial someone told me was good for learning how to write a linux kernel module," or "here's my vague understanding of this concept you know nothing about," or "here's how you automate something to click on a link on a webpage," which tends to be handier than just google on its own.)

if you're reading this and you're like "ok cool but where's the part where i'm handed a computer and i gotta break in while going all hacker typer”—that's not the bulk of the work, alas! like, for sure, we do have fun pranking each other by trying dumb ways of stealing each other's passwords or whatever (once i stuck a keylogger in a dude's keyboard, fun times). but a lot of my security jobs have involved stuff like, "stare at this disassembly a long fuckin' time to figure out how the program pointer got all fucked up," or, "write a fuzzer that feeds a lot of randomized input to some C++ program, watch the program crash because C++ is a horrible language for writing software, go fix all the bugs," or "think Really Hard TM about all the settings and doohickeys this OS/GPU/whatever has, think about all the awful things someone could do with it, threat model and sandbox accordingly." occasionally i have done cool proof-of-concept hacks but honestly writing exploits can kinda be tedious, lol, so like, i'm only doing that if it's the only way i can get people to believe that Yes This Is Actually A Problem, Fix Your Code

"lua that's cool and all but i wanted, like, actual links and recommendations and stuff" okay, fair. here's some ideas:

microcorruption: very fun embedded security CTF; teaches you everything you need to know as you're doing it.

cryptopals crypto challenges: very fun little programming exercises that teach you a lot of fundamental cryptography concepts as you're going along! you can do these even as a bit of a n00b; i did them in Python for the lulz

the binary bomb lab is hilariously copied by, like, so many CS programs, lol, but for good reason. it's accessible and fun and is the first time most people get to feel like a real hacker! (requires you know a bit of C beforehand)

ctftime is a good way to see when new CTFs ("capture the flag"s; security-focused competitions) are coming up. or, sometimes CTFs post their source code, so you can continue trying them after the CTF is over. i liked Stripe's CTFs when they were going, because they focused on "web stuff", and "web stuff" was all i really knew at the time. if you're more interested in staring at disassembly, there's CTFs focused on that sort of thing too.

azeria has good ARM assembly & exploitation tutorials

also, like, lots of good talks out there; just watching defcon/cansecwest/etc talks until something piques your interest is very fun. i'd die on a battlefield for any of Christopher Domas's talks, but he assumes a lot of specific x86/OS knowledge, lol, so maybe don’t start with that. oh, Julia Evans's blog is honestly probably pretty good for just learning a lot of stuff and really beginner-friendly?

oh and wrt legality... idk, i haven't addressed it here since it hasn't come up in my own work much, tbh. if you're just getting started you're kind of unlikely to Break The Law without, y'know, realizing maybe you're doing something a bit gray-area? and you can cross that bridge when you come to it? Real Hacking TM is way more of a pain-in-the-ass than doing CTFs and such, and you'll learn way more with the latter, so who cares lol just do the fun thing

[baoshan-sanren]

A Series Of Unfortunate Events: Floor Mats are a Thing

a part of the Nielan Arranged Marriage AU that exists mainly because the bed-breaking anon did not actually get to see any beds being broken

also, because a little smut never hurt anyone (except for me because I’m terrible at writing it and yet I keep trying)

and also because @acutebird-fics made this art I have not stopped thinking about for a single moment in over a week

They do not break the wedding bed like that.

Even the insinuation is preposterous. Their wedding bed is obnoxiously large and extremely sturdy, and Lan XiChen cannot possibly imagine the type of intimate activity that would... result in such damage.

Except that this is mostly a lie, because he is capable of imagining a lot of things, and does so on daily basis.

MingJue, of course, is to blame for this. Lan XiChen distinctly remembers a time in his life when his head was free of inappropriate thoughts. When he could easily focus on a book without remembering MingJue’s fingers on his cheek. When he could move through his sword forms without the relentless burning in his thighs reminding him of their activities from the night before. When he could listen to MingJue speak in a crowded hall without imagining the man’s hot breath panting into his ear, words whispered into his hair, teeth sinking into his neck.

MingJue has no shame whatsoever. He has no reservations about vocalizing every inappropriate thought that crosses his mind. All of them are likely to make XiChen hard in moments; most of them make him want to die from mortification. His husband is a terrible, awful person. XiChen loves him so much that it physically hurts him. It is a constant source of pain in his chest, sweet and overwhelming.

But they did not break the wedding bed like that, and to be fair, although most incidents of such nature are MingJue’s fault, this one is solely on XiChen.

He had spent the day behind a desk, dealing with one tedious issue after another. Springtime is always a busy time, whether one is trying to run a Sect, or a small family farm. The previous year, XiChen had still been in the process of learning how to run the Unclean Realm, and A-Sang had readily taken on any burden that XiChen could not handle.

This spring, A-Sang is at Cloud Recesses, attempting to pass for the fourth time. XiChen may have spent months preparing A-Sang to achieve this goal, but he still very much regrets sending him away. Never more so than on days like these, when small insignificant matters pile up so high that he cannot see over his desk, and when every person in the Unclean Realm seems determined to seek him out.

Needless to say, by that evening, he is stiff, bad-humored, and restless. His mind is still preoccupied, and he cannot seem to settle down or relax. Afterwards, it will occur to him that their... intimate activities would have probably worked just as well to unwind him. Except that only a small part of him is interested in a physical activity; the greater part of him just wants to fight something until he is exhausted.

Despite the fact that sparring in the bedroom is MingJue’s idea, XiChen is the responsible adult in the room, and as such, should be the voice of reason. It is a nonsensical suggestion, and XiChen should firmly decline.

He does not.

BaXia versus the wedding bed score: 1 for BaXia, 0 for the wedding bed.

--

It takes two days for the new bed to be built. In the meantime, they discover that the bed in XiChen’s Cloud Recesses room is a torture device in disguise. XiChen would never disparage A-Sang’s abilities, and he knows that the bed had been chosen with utmost care. But it is a bed clearly built for one person. A person who sleeps on their back, with their arms crossed.  

The first night, they fall into it in a tangle of limbs, neither one considering the fact that this is not their large, abnormally sturdy wedding bed. By the time they realize that perhaps some adjustment and caution is necessary, two of the curtains have been torn down, and XiChen has bruised both his knees. But caution has not yet made an appearance in their lovemaking, MingJue is listing all the ways in which he intends to employ his tongue, and XiChen is absolutely devoid of any coherent thought process whatsoever.

In addition to all this, MingJue wears entirely too many layers. XiChen hates all of them. He is not alone in this, as MingJue is quite resentful of XiChen’s layers as well, and more than one silk robe has had to find its way back to the seamstress hall. The fact that MingJue can never wait for XiChen to be fully undressed, before his mouth has latched on to any exposed flesh, is entirely to blame for what occurs next. XiChen pulls on one end of his robe, MingJue tears at the other, both balancing precariously on the side of the bed, and the material decides that this is simply too much abuse to bear.

The robe rips, MingJue’s knee slides, and XiChen, feeling himself tilt forward, attempts to grab the wooden post. He misses spectacularly.

Three full days pass before MingJue can see out of his blackened left eye.

--

The next incident is in no way related to any bed, or any activity involving XiChen. He is utterly blameless. He is as innocent as a newborn lamb. Whatever issues MingJue seems to have with the seamstresses can in no way be blamed on XiChen, as he treats all twelve of these women with the proper amount of reverence and respect, and is adored by them in turn.

MingJue’s relationship with these same women is somewhat more... complicated. XiChen understands that there had been an event, prior to his arrival in the Unclean Realm, involving silver brocade and MeiLing. He does not know the details, but he does notice that MingJue always seems to dress himself with care, as if expecting his newly sown robes to attack him at any moment.

XiChen finds this overabundance of caution both endearing and silly. The seamstresses are lovely women, infinitely accommodating, patient, and good-natured. He cannot imagine them holding on to some small slight for over a year. They are servants, not assassins waiting to strike when MingJue finally drops his guard. XiChen spends some days convincing MingJue to give up this nonsensical fear of retribution, and is majorly successful, although he still catches MingJue eyeing his clothes with suspicion on more than once occasion.

By the time the spring robes arrive to replace the heavy winter clothes, MingJue has relaxed completely, and does not hesitate to shrug into a new, lightweight coat. When less than three hours later, he develops a rash on his neck that looks as if he had been mauled by a wild beast, XiChen is the only person shocked by this development.

--

The new bed looks as large and sturdy as the first. It is put in place midday, and XiChen does not spend the rest of the daylight hours thinking about the nightfall, his husband, the bed, or anything including all three of those things together. He retires for the night as soon as the sun is down because he is tired. Being a Sect Leader’s husband is exhausting work, and XiChen only wants to sleep in a bed where he does not have to worry about elbowing his husband in his sleep.

As it happens, MingJue also retires early, because he is tired as well.

To be clear, XiChen does intend to just sleep. He does not have any ulterior motive. Still, two hours later find him slick with sweat, thighs burning, toes curled into the the fresh sheets. By now, MingJue is bearing the brunt of his weight, fingers digging into XiChen’s hips, holding him in place at just the right angle, where XiChen can do nothing but whimper. It is a position he still cannot picture in the daylight hours without burning with shame. Sprawled across MingJue, his back pressed to the man’s chest, legs quivering on either side of him, every thrust excruciating, impossibly deep, hitting every pleasure point along his spine. One of his arms is wrapped around MingJue’s neck, fingers buried deep in his hair. Although he feels closer to him this way, he will often hide his face in the curve of MingJue’s neck when the sight of his own body, flushed with pleasure, is too much to bear.

MingJue is merciless like this. The sheer strength of him is astounding. He has held XiChen’s body in the same position for hours, the rhythm of his hips never faltering, never stuttering, each thrust precise and ruthless. XiChen never wants him to stop. XiChen thinks if he does not stop, the pleasure will surely kill him. He has been on the razor’s edge for hours, centuries, and the sounds leaving his mouth no longer resemble human speech in any way. MingJue is a terrible, cruel creature, determined to make him suffer. XiChen loves him. XiChen loves him so much.

There is a creak, a rumble, and the bed collapses.

--

MeiLing is silent for a long time, which is very much unlike her.

XiChen has been married to MingJue for over a year now, but MeiLing’s request that he meet her for tea had still caught him by surprise. He had been made aware, early on, that she does not bother with courtesy. She does not have pointless conversations, does not perform aimless visits, and is unlikely to give out compliments for a job well done. XiChen has not spoken more than ten words to the woman since his wedding day, and has always understood that her absence from the Unclean Realm is a sign of approval, rather than neglect.

As long as XiChen performs his duties well, MeiLing will find something more interesting to occupy her time.

The fact that she is here now, sitting across from him, fills him with anxiety. He had done something wrong, or he had failed to do something, but no matter how much he searches his memory, nothing stands out.

“There are rumors,” she says abruptly, and XiChen is taken off guard again.

Rumors? What rumors?

Immediately he thinks of A-Sang at Cloud Recesses, and his anxiety increases. Has he gotten himself in trouble somehow? Has he said something he should not have?

That seems very unlikely. A-Sang would be more apt to start an inappropriate rumor than be the focus of one. There is no gossip in the world so damaging that A-Sang cannot turn it to his advantage with very little effort. This cannot be about him.

MeiLing is watching him carefully, as if waiting for something, but XiChen cannot guess what that something could be.

“What rumors are these, nainai?” XiChen asks finally, no longer able to bear the silence.

“Two broken beds in less than a month.” 

XiChen feels his face heat, and fumbles the tea, nearly spilling the hot liquid on his freshly mended robe. 

“Ah,” he says, “This.”

She hums over her cup, still watching him, but he has suddenly found his own teacup extremely interesting, and intends to focus on nothing else for some time.

“There is also the black eye,” she goes on, “and something about a mauling.”

XiChen squeezes his eyes shut.

He would like to be back in Wen RuoHan’s torture cell now please. Or perhaps on the receiving end of Wen RuoHan’s whip. Anywhere else in the world, bearing any type of torture, would be a blessing in comparison.

“I am very pleased,” she says.

Lan XiChen would like to die now. He would very much like to-- what?

“I must admit, I was skeptical in the beginning. Do not take this the wrong way dear, but you do appear to be very delicate on some matters.”

Delicate. She-- what? What is happening?

“I am glad to see A-Jue has made a good match. Although perhaps, in the future, you may consider spreading some mats on the floor instead. Bedmakers can be notorious gossips.”

XiChen realizes that his mouth is open, and closes it. His face is burning. Even his eyes feel hot.

He should be saying something. Anything.

“Ah,” he says.

That clearly does not fall into the category of speech, and he tries again.

“Ah-- thank you. For this advice. I will-- keep it in mind.”

“Good,” she says, “I believe that was uncomfortable for both of us, so let us speak of something else. Tell me about A-Sang. How are his studies progressing?”

--

It takes him three days to even consider the idea without feeling embarrassed, and another three to have a number of mats delivered to their chamber without wanting to die from shame.

--

They are nowhere near where they started; somehow, MingJue has squirmed half-way across the bedroom floor, and now, he can go no further, cornered between the wall and the bed frame. XiChen has one of his thighs trapped firmly against his waist, rock hard and slippery with sweat, feeling each tremor of the muscle under his grip. XiChen’s other hand is occupied, three fingers buried deep in a slick, tight space, angled to hit the small bundle of nerves on every pass.

MingJue is beautiful like this. Although XiChen is not so bold to speak words of praise the same way MingJue often does, he hums his approval each time MingJue’s hips jerk off the mat in search of friction, his stomach muscles quivering from the effort. His eyes are glazed and unfocused, eyelashes heavy and damp, lips bruised from the earlier kisses. Most of the time, XiChen cannot stop him from voicing every thought that crosses his mind, but now, nothing that leaves MingJue’s mouth resembles words. For the first time, despite numerous ways they have made love, he feels vulnerable under XiChen’s touch, mindless with lust, trembling and fragile. He does not beg as XiChen would. Each time his fluttering eyelashes lift, his clouded gaze is on XiChen only, as if nothing else in the world matters.

XiChen had wanted to know how long it would take, for MingJue to come like this, with no other friction than the one his fingers provide. But now, a fierce protectiveness floods his throat, savage and hot, threatening to obliterate anything else. There is a small pool of slick already collected on MingJue’s stomach, and his flesh sears a path across XiChen’s lips, before he can capture the length in his mouth. To XiChen, he has always tasted like salt and steel, the savor of a battle won. This time, he scarcely has a chance to taste it before MingJue cries out, muscles contracting around XiChen’s fingers, flooding his mouth with release.

MeiLing was right.

The mats are a very good idea.

[joonsdiary]

worth fighting for (06)

pairing: jungkook x reader genre/warnings: a pinch of fluff, a dash of angst / royalty au, historical au / tw: indignant!koo, apologetic!reader, jimin being the supportive bun that he is, if you came for a fun time this chapter probably isn’t? word count: 4,815

summary: fresh out of the perils of war, jungkook didn’t think that his task as the newly appointed general would be to look after you.

                                                                       SIX.

“Congratulations, Y/N. The distance you so crave is finally there.”

You mumble to yourself as you watch Jungkook’s back disappear into the horizon. Had it not been for your sharp tongue, perhaps you would’ve prevented the damage you’ve inflicted upon him. You hadn’t seen his expression as he didn’t bother to face you, but his slackened shoulders are enough to let you know how he feels. Your heart wrenches painfully as you swallow thickly.

Yes, his mistrust towards your capabilities is unwarranted, inflicting your pride. You aren’t some weak helpless princess who needs to wait around and be rescued – you are more than capable of saving your own ass. But that doesn’t give you the authority to overstep your boundary and bring up his dead brother, of all people.

You blink up at the sky, unable to keep the tears pooling from staining your flush cheeks. There’s no use in feeling sorry for yourself now, though. You have to apologize, and somehow make it up to him. An action that’s easier said than done if Jungkook does not brush you off with every attempt.

But he does.

Throughout the rest of the day, you chase him around like a puppy does their master. There’s not much left to do since Jimin gathered firewood when you were busy stomping on Jungkook’s feelings. The tents have also been set up, courtesy of both Miyoung and Jimin. That doesn’t stop Jungkook from coming up with creative ways to dismiss your presence, though.

“I’m going to relieve myself. Will you follow me there, too?” Jungkook deadpans and you wilt away, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

“No,” you toy with the string of your dress. You look up at him and open your mouth to say the words that are eating you up. You don’t have the chance to, though, because he turns to leave in search of a dense forest area. Your shoulders slump in defeat as you massage your temples.

“Did something happen between you and the general?” Miyoung approaches you with caution. You don’t turn to address her presence, but you nod at her inquisition.

“I was being a dimwit.”

“You can be a bit dense at times,” Miyoung mumbles thoughtfully, and you give her a slanted gaze. She returns the favour with a playful smile. “What is it; you finally confessed, and he rejected you? It was so bad that he wants to avoid you, but you can’t help how your poor heart yearns for him.”

Her statement is like cold water being splashed to your face. “What do you mean finally?”

“I’m not going through the whole spiel about you acting jittery around him again,” she says wryly. “But you’ve been really, really obvious.”

Your face blanches, and Miyoung gives you a puzzling gaze.

He hasn’t noticed though, right?

You push the thought away since what she said hasn’t crossed your mind. You’re bound to someone by agreement, and you have no plans of tearing that for something as meagre as your feelings.

“Judging from your reaction, I’m guessing that’s not what happened?” her brows creased with worry, and you shake your head.

“Would you believe me if I say that I’ve done something more idiotic than that?” you give her a sheepish grin and dive into telling her what happened. Your gaze travels to Jimin, ensuring he doesn’t hear any of what you’re saying. It’s enough that one other person knows of your stupidity. She listens with intent and waits for you to finish.

“…and then he just walked away. I’ve been trying to apologize to him since, and you can guess how that went,” you awkwardly point to the direction Jungkook has gone. She doesn’t say anything for a while, and dread fills your chest. Her silence speaks volumes on her position in this matter; she thinks you’re in the wrong as well.

“I can see where you’re coming from,” she begins slowly, uncharacteristically picking her words as if not to say anything that will disfavour you. “But you didn’t have to bring up the topic of his late brother like that.”

“I know,” you exhale, feeling exasperated. “I know that. I slipped in the most immodest way possible. But he doesn’t want to give me the room to explain.”

“Perhaps you should give him some space. It looks like he needs it if he’s actively avoiding you.”

I know that, too.

You sigh defeatedly. “Maybe you’re right. It seems selfish of me to keep pushing myself where I’m not wanted.”

“He’ll come around,” she offers a reassuring smile, which lifts your mood in the slightest.

But two days pass, yet there’s still no sign of Jungkook’s temper thawing. He rescinded his offer to teach and you agree amicably, opting to listen to Miyoung about taking the diplomatic approach in order to give him the space he needs. It’s not like he had been willing to teach you more either way, so you graciously collect your losses. If avoidance is what he desires, it’s what he’ll get.

Jimin has noticed the surly atmosphere, but he doesn’t dare ask anything. You feel apologetic for placing him in the dark by not saying anything, but you don’t think your ego could handle another moral beating after confiding with Miyoung.

You’ve chosen to stay in the carriage in the instances where you’re not needed, which happens to be most of the time since they still refuse to task you with too much work. You occasionally volunteer with Miyoung but otherwise avoid Jungkook like the plague, and you refuse to eat any meals with them as you hide away in your tent. You delude yourself into thinking that it’s the easiest task you could possibly be assigned but hearing his laughter on the other side of the closed doors prove harder than anything you’ve ever done.

You prepare your heart, nonetheless, telling yourself it’s the punishment you deserve after breaking his.

On the third day post-Jungkook, a soft knock comes at the door of your carriage. You put down your embroidery — a suggestion from Miyoung you’ve gingerly agreed to complete despite how tedious you think it is. Hope blooms in your chest and you eagerly open the door. Perhaps Miyoung talked to Jungkook about your intentions to apologize —

“Your Grace.”

Jimin’s crescent eyes greet you, and you try to hide your disappointment with a stiff smile. He steps aside as you disembark, stretching your limbs that have been bent to one position for hours. The afternoon sun is hidden beneath grey clouds, and you don’t have to squint too much as your gaze sweeps the surroundings.

“General Jeon wants to unrein the horses. It seems like we might camp out for a while. He predicts a storm might be coming and would rather be stationary when that happens.”

You nod as your eyes search for the said general. Your shoulder deflates when you don’t find him.

“I can still stay inside though, right?” you offer a meek smile, hoping he’d say yes.

“Actually…” he trails off as he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “I’ve noticed you’ve been keeping to yourself a lot and…well…”

He meets your gaze, a grin forming on his lips. “I was wondering if you wanted to go for a horse ride. Help you stave off some of that dark aura surrounding you lately.”

You allow yourself to laugh at his statement, already feeling more at ease than you’ve been the past few days.

“If you insist,” your words are filled with excitement. He offers his elbow and your palm rests on the crook of his hand.

“None of them are Luna, but I promise you they’re just as wild-spirited.” You allow him to guide you to where two horses await, saddled and unbound from the carriage. Approaching the caramel-coloured steed, you hold your palms out and run it along its neck.

“I’ve been so preoccupied these past few weeks to even ask if this was possible,” the horse neighs as you run your fingertips through its thick mane.

It doesn’t take long for you to settle down and once you do, Jimin mounts his horse.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you turn to him with a genuine smile. “And having a horse of your own to ride this time around.”

“I wasn’t going to let the same thing happen where you leave me behind. As powerful as my thighs are, I still don’t stand a chance in catching up to a horse,” his tone is bright as he claps his hand on his thighs for full effect. You laugh at the memory as your grip tightens around the rope.

“Don’t blame me for feeling excited. I’m sorry it got you in trouble though,” you lament, feeling apologetic since you heard he was severely punished by the stable master. You suspect the order came from your father, though, hence his reluctance for you to bring Jimin along. But in a scenario where you had to place your trust in the hands of a few, there’s not an inkling of doubt in your mind that he would be one of them.

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle.” The certainty in Jimin’s tone is enough for you not to press.

The two of you begin at a slow pace, and you welcome the cool breeze of tousling your hair in every direction possible. You bask in your false sense of freedom, your spirits already lifting the slightest.

“I’m sorry, too, for my recent actions,” you begin as vaguely as you possibly can. You’re not sure how much Jimin knows about your situation, but you have been ignoring him too as of late. It doesn’t feel fair, especially because he’s the one making an effort to bridge the gap you’ve built.

“That’s quite alright. Given your circumstance, I understand if you feel closed off at times.”

“Circumstance?” Your brows knit in confusion and you face Jimin. He returns your confusion with a small smile.

“Trekking an unknown path towards the Northern border, where no Southerner has been able to do in three generations since the conflict started. Not only that, but you’ll have to marry their monarch.”

“Oh, that,” your eyes flit back to the small patch of road ahead of you. You’re unsure what Jimin has in mind as a destination, but he promises it’s not a long ride. “The least I could do.”

Jimin dips his chin.

“I know you’re attempting to diminish the responsibility you’ve chosen to bear, but you have a lot to lose, too.”

You shake your head at him, unable to acquiesce with his considerate words.

“Compared to what you went through during the war…” you trail off, unsure of how to continue. The last time you talked to someone about death and loss, they walked away from you. Perhaps you’re not as eloquent as you’d like to think in spite of your status, so you don’t say anything further.

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but this isn’t a competition of who suffers the most like you make it sound to be.” His smile is mellow, his voice gentle but not condescending. The kindness in his eyes almost deceives you into falling infatuated with him. “You don’t have to undermine your sacrifice just because you think you’re not losing a limb or getting stabbed with an arrow.”

The sentiment is enough to fill the corner of your eyes with fresh tears. You laugh softly, sounding slightly unhinged. “You make me sound so benevolent.”

“Aren’t you, though?” His lilt is playful, but you shake your head in disagreement.

“Far from it, actually.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, you know. You both.”

You don’t have to ask twice to figure out who he’s talking about. Curiosity is nagging you but you’re unable to find the right words, so you let silence permeate.

“Did he say anything…?” you whisper, and you’re sure Jimin didn’t hear it.

“About you?”

His reply catches you off guard, and you make an effort not to seem overly eager. “No, just… broadly speaking.”

“If you must know,” Jimin pauses and eyes you suggestively. You pull the ropes to halt the movement of the horse. He mimics your actions, and you fall in step with each other, pulling the reins so the animals would follow. His features soften as he looks ahead. “He hasn’t spoken much of anything. Of you.”

“Oh.” You try not to sound distraught, but your voice wavers. “I guess he must still hate me.”

“Do you think he’d still be here if he hates you?”

You blink up at him, and with the most impassive tone you can muster, you answer, “Yes.”

“You’re right,” he says after a short pause. “He’s hard-headed in that way where he’ll see this through to the end, regardless of how he feels.” Jimin chuckles as he shakes his head. You grin up at him. “You’re both stubborn— ”

“— as a mule, I am aware,” you finish for him, and his eyes twinkle in amusement.

“Am I that predictable?” He places his hand on his chest in mock offence. You nod at his inquiry, realizing that you’ve been missing this type of banter.

“Thank you, Jimin.”

His eyes form into crescents, smiling from ear to ear at your appreciation. He stretches his arms out wide. “Now that you owe me…”

“Name your price, Park.”

He throws his head back and barks out a laugh.

“It’s nothing complicated,” he begins once he’s calmed down. “But Miyoung refuses to tell me what went on between you and General Jeon. I know she knows.”

“And you couldn’t have asked Jungkook?”

“The man will snap me in half if I so much as attempt it.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you roll your eyes and bite back a smile. “Also, quite bold of you to assume that I’ll tell you. Is that why you’ve decided to bring me along on this trip with you — butter me up so you can get the answers from me?”

“It was worth the try,” Jimin grins, shrugging. “But really, I’ve brought you here because I think you need to unwind. You’ve been spending a lot of time stacking brick walls around you. Miyoung was starting to worry.”

Your heart swells and your face grows warm, thankful you have the company of the right people. You slowly realize you did yourself a disservice when you decided to close the door on the two people who care about your well-being.

“Now help me help you end this lover’s quarrel so we can move on along,” Jimin’s tone is still light. But you shake your head defiantly, ignoring the pervasive radiance of your cheeks. He pauses his walk, and you do the same.

“It’s not like that at all.”

You close your eyes, steeling your nerves as you let out a shaky breath. Jimin nods in understanding and patiently waits for you as you gather your thoughts.

*  *  *

Jungkook treks through the sparse wooden area. The task has been like clockwork every time you stay somewhere new. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened weeks ago, so he’s thorough in his search. He wants to make sure no stone is left unturned, metaphorically speaking.

The only difference this time is he didn’t bring his horse along. When he told Jimin to free the horses for the night, the older suggested that he leave his horse to be looked after, as well. He agreed, but now he doesn’t think it was a good idea. Especially since his thighs are throbbing from all the walking he’s done. The weariness is enough for him to call it a day and head back to camp.

Until he hears an inconspicuous laugh. By a man.

His body goes rigid, his brain wires into autopilot as his legs deftly take him to the source. The closer he walks, the clearer it’s becoming that he’s heading towards the carved-out path he’s already gone through hours prior.

“…snap me in half…”

His ears perk up in recognition, eyes thinning into slits as he attempts to form the image of Jimin’s face from a distance. He steps closer but realizes he’s not alone, so he turns his back against a sturdy tree.

Your voice cuts through the air and arrests him on the spot. He still couldn’t make out much of what is being said, and he desperately wants to know.

“No, you don’t,” Jungkook grumbles to himself.

But his feet move closer and he stands behind another tree.

“…brick walls around you. Miyoung was starting to worry.”

Jungkook is beginning to feel like a half-wit. Nothing is stopping him from going up to them as a normal person would. None of this sneaking around horseshit. But he’s unsure what your reaction will be if he does show up all of a sudden. He has been the biggest idiot in the whole country the past few days, so he will not be surprised if you walk away and leave abruptly if he steps out.

“Should I really disturb them?” He mumbles to himself.

He’s surprised that you’re even doing something besides isolating yourself either in your carriage or your tent.

No thanks to you, his subconscious nags.

It isn’t his intention to push you out all the way. He wasn’t feeling bothered by your subsequent attempts to talk to him after he walked out on you as he makes it out to be. But his ultimatum had been the sword fighting lesson; your lack of protest when he revoked it made him think you gave up trying. He didn’t let his surprise be known – he’d been the one who wanted to cancel, anyway. Then so be it.

He’s not surprised when you took it even further and refused to converse or have a meal with anyone. The action feels like an exaggeration to him. He’s the one who lost a brother, after all, not you.

He is caught in a daze for a moment, lulled by the soft timbre of your voice. No discernible word files in his mind — it’s not information he doesn’t already know. He isn’t the least bit surprised that you chose your confidante to be Jimin; as Jungkook has learned himself, Jimin gives quite the advice. The man is practically like a walking library — at times he could be spewing utter nonsense, but more often than not he says the most knowledgeable things only an elder would know.

Yet it seems odd to Jungkook. Yes, you talk to Jimin and are friendly with him. But to be able to confide in a stable boy, of all people, when you are royalty? Technically you can command anybody to talk to you and keep you company, but that’s not the case. It seems to him that it had been Jimin who’s coaxed you into opening up; like how friends would.

Jungkook’s stomach drops. There had been a moment where he genuinely thought of you as a friend, but he needlessly threw it aside by being obtuse.

The next words you utter disarms him.

“...I didn’t mean for him to interpret as if I wish it had been him who died instead.”

A twinge of guilt carves out of Jungkook’s chest as he tries to remember exactly what you said that day. The more fragments of his memory slip through his fingers like coarse sand, the more foolish he feels. He scarcely recalls what you’ve told him verbatim that had him so irate at that moment. He can only remember his reaction to it.

The anger bubbling from the pit of his stomach. The jealousy and hurt coursing through his veins. The regret looming over him as he walks away.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Stalking around private thoughts that you choose to share with anyone but him, feels all sorts of wrong. He shouldn’t pry, especially after ignoring your attempts at apologizing and pushing you away roughly like a rag doll.

He wills himself to walk away from the conversation. It’s the least he can do.

*  *  *

Speaking to Jimin after refusing to talk to anyone for a few days feels cathartic. You’re thankful that he provides a peaceful aura and being able to let everything out is invigorating.

“How do you know Jungkook’s brother, anyway?” Jimin asks as you descend back to the path you came from.

“Oh,” you blink for a few moments before chuckling. “I guess I haven’t told you. I grew up with them, so to speak. Hoseok taught me everything I know about bows and arrows. We were practically —”

“— attached at the hip,” Jimin cuts you off suddenly. You look at him quizzically, but nod in agreement.

“Are you sure you’re not my soulmate? We practically finish each other’s sentences all the time,” you tease. But his face is unreadable as if he’d gone in a completely different dimension without you. He grows quiet and you let him soak in the information.

“You didn’t grow close with General Jeon, though.” He says slowly, sounding more like a statement than a question. You nod your head, nonetheless.

“He was quieter and more distant back then if you can imagine,” you begin softly. “Although he was quite a pain to deal with at times; who isn’t at seven?”

Jimin laughs, nodding in agreement.

Your memories of Jungkook are sparse, but you’ll never forget the day he challenged you to a game of archery at the height of your lessons with Hoseok. You were eleven and Jungkook would only be around every so often, always getting called by his father for his own training. You shake your head at the thought, still unable to wrap your mind around how a mere thirteen-year-old boy could be shoved into the harsh environment of endless training.

“But he had always been competitive, especially against me. Although he still hasn’t beaten me at archery. Maybe that’s why he dislikes me so much,” your nose wrinkles at the thought.

Jimin scoffs and shakes his head. “On the contrary…”

“Hm?” you look up at him, and Jimin’s eyes widen in panic. He looks away momentarily before clearing his throat.

“What I meant was — you lied, completely! About having beginner’s luck.” Jimin’s cheeks are ruddy when he turns back to you, and you wonder what has him so flustered. “The highwaymen that stop us next time better be on the lookout. We have a master archer in our midst.”

You eyed him suspiciously, but a grin forms on your face all the same. “Flattering could only get you so far, Jimin.”

“I only aim to tell the truth, Your Grace,” his head shakes and you roll your eyes. Jimin hesitates before continuing. “I’m sorry for your loss, albeit belatedly. I’m sure you were devastated to hear about what had happened to him.”

Your mood plunges, but you muster a small smile. “Hoseok was like an older brother I always wanted to have.”  

Jimin’s forehead creases in confusion, but he nods in understanding. You swallow the lump that wedged itself in your throat.

“His presence was always so bright; his ability to bring a smile to everyone is such a gift. That’s why losing him feels like you’ve been robbed of warmth,” your eyes trail forward, but they’re unseeing. Your thoughts flit back to Jungkook; if you are here feeling like your heart has been ripped out of your chest, you can’t begin to imagine what he’s going through.

“You remind me a lot of him,” you beam at Jimin, anxious to shift your mood.

“Sounds like I have a lot to live up to,” Jimin chuckles.

“You have the whole radiant part down. You’re practically bursting with sunlight at the seams.” You squint and pretend to cover your eyes for full effect.  

“Flattering could only get you so far, Your Highness,” his eyes flicker with playfulness, lips unable to hold back a grin.

“I only aim to tell the truth, Jimin.”

His laugh bubbles from his chest as satisfaction fills you to the brim.

*  *  *

“I don’t want to speak out of turn…” Miyoung begins cautiously, but her lips are set in a straight line. “But will you stop pacing, for the love of god?”

Jungkook glowers at her, fists balled as steam billows out of his ear. The frigid wind does nothing to cool down his boiling body, but the grey clouds mirror his current mood. Despite the overcast masking the skies, he knows that the sun is about to set sooner rather than later.

Yet there are no signs of you or Jimin returning from your impromptu trip. He’s been mulling over the decision to leave you for hours, and every second that ticks by weighs heavier on his shoulders.

I knew I shouldn’t have left. He sighs in an attempt to alleviate the tension in his muscles. “They were supposed to be back hours ago.”

“I had no idea. It’s not like you’ve said it about five times in the last ten minutes.” Miyoung says sardonically, but Jungkook knows she’s just as anxious as he is. It’s evident in the way she looks towards the direction where he also came from every minute. “I’m sure they’ll be back at any moment now. I’ll start preparing a meal.”

She turns to leave just as the winds pick up their speed, ruffling Jungkook’s tunic. He nods wordlessly, but at her proclamation of finding something to do, Jungkook resumes his pacing. He’s thought about going to the same spot he saw you and Jimin, but that seems like a terrible idea the more he thinks about it.

One, you’re probably long gone by now and he wouldn’t know where you went next. Two, there’s an off chance that you’ll miss each other, so leaving would be futile and a waste of energy; you’ll be back, he’ll be gone. What a travesty.

“Why did I decide then to have some morals and leave them be?” he groans and dips his head into his palms, slapping himself in the process.

For a man with a calibre such as him, he’s currently lacking in all his areas of expertise. Nothing makes him feel more inept than his inability to care for you, which speaking candidly, is his sole task. Surely, he’s had more daunting responsibilities; one that requires him to think on his feet but at the same time not make haste decisions. So far, he’s done neither and no one is to blame but himself.

He feels the soft patter of the rain on his forearm, followed by the quivering rumble of thunder. Jungkook comes to a halt, his heart being propelled faster than a horse in a race. The light drizzle turns to a torrential downpour within minutes, and he curses the heavens; their timing couldn’t be more perfect.

“General!” Miyoung beckons, which compels Jungkook to run and seek shelter. Encased in the warmth of the tent, he shakes off the remnants of water in his hair as he heaves a deep sigh.

“There’s no reason why I shouldn’t go out there now.”

Miyoung rolls her eyes, and Jungkook gains an inkling as to why you insist on keeping her around out of all your chambermaids. If he didn’t know any better, he might think you two are cut from the same cloth.

“Terrible idea. Do you not hear that?”

As if on cue, the second round of thunder rippled through the silence. The wind howls louder, causing the tarpaulin to tremble with fear. A shiver runs down his spine.

“We don’t really have a choice—”

Jungkook is cut off by the pounding of hoofbeats against the dirt, which is all the consent he needs to bolt out of the safety of the tent. He squints against the rain as one horse approaches. His heart sinks.

“I was closer here than I was to her, so I assumed it would be better—” Jimin slides off the saddle and Jungkook quickly takes the ropes from him, not bothering to take his own ride.

“Where?” his tone is clipped, head swimming with endless thoughts as he awaits Jimin’s reply.

“She said something about dipping her toes in the water, I—” Jungkook’s feet slipped in his first attempt to embark and he cursed under his breath. Calm down, Jeon. His trousers squelch uncomfortably beneath him as he takes a seat, but that might be the least of his worries.

“Stay put in case she comes back.”

He doesn’t need to ask why Jimin had left you in the first place; you had probably forced him to go back on his own. Tugging at the reins slightly, he carefully steers the horse in the right direction. With one command he is off; his lungs burning in his chest as thousands of water droplets pellet his face, blurring his vision.

— previous ; next ; series masterlist

[writing-with-olive]

A starting place for self-editing your novel

I wrote this in a reblog to one of @boy-who-can-fly​‘s posts, but as I couldn’t add any tags to that that would make it findable to more than just my followers, I figured I’d make the same content in an original post because YAY TAGS!

Without further ado...

1) Take a break.

Some authors have suggested taking a break for six or so weeks, but I find anything longer than three makes me too distanced from my story, and I have to work a lot harder to get back into my protagonist’s head. During this break, don’t so much as look at your story. Instead, focus on something else. Maybe growing your author platform, planning or developing another wip, or researching the publishing industry if publishing is the end goal for your book (this goes for both traditional and self pub). The point of this is that without some distance, it’s going to be a lot harder to see larger developmental flaws.

(this is a very long post, so the rest of the steps are below the break)

2) The first read-through.

After your break has ended, and you’ve got to be a little stern with yourself not to extend it farther than what you set, or else you’ll never return to it, do a readthrough. This means either just reading it off you’re computer or kindle, or going to somewhere like staples and getting it printed and spiral bound (this costs money, but I found it helpful down the line). Two rules: 1) no editing. 2) look at the first rule. This read-through is going to help give you a general sense of what is and isn’t working in your book; the problems you notice here are likely going to be the biggest ones. (if you want, you can combine this step with step three, but I found it more helpful to keep them seperate)

3) Outline.

It doesn’t matter whether you outlined before, or whether you decided to pants it. By the time you get to editing, you need to have an outline that’s reflective of what you actually put on the page. Go through your story, chapter by chapter, and for each new scene write down

what is your character’s goal in this scene

what is standing in their way

what is the outcome of the scene.

This list should not go into depth; one short sentece per point, MAX. That being said, make sure to keep things specific, so “MC wants to convice X to go with them to Y.” is going to be a lot more useful to you later on than “MC tries to convince them to go.” This outline is going to help you objectively look at your story structure, as you can see a lot more of what’s happening at once, without being quite so overwhelmed by the sheer mass of the words you wrote. Yes, this step can be a bit tedious, but it is so, so worth it.

4) Sort out what you need to fix, aka start making a game plan for your edits.

Now that you’ve read through your wip at least once through, and probably twice, you probably have a pretty good idea of what you need to fix. The key here is that right now, you want to be fixing on the global edits - the things that span beyond just a single scene or chapter. The reason why is that you don’t want to be spending hours perfecting a scene that you’re just going to need to cut later because it doesn’t advance the plot.

In a new document or spreadsheet (whatever you think will work better for you, I liked using a google doc), write issues you see with:

Each of your main cast (regarding character development, motivations voice, etc)

Setting/s (consistancy, realism for your world)

General worldbuilding (consistancy, things poorly explained/set up)

Main plot (following a given plot structure, building tension, etc)

Each subplot (how it intertwines with the main plot, plot structure, building tension, etc)

Other major things you noticed during your readthroughs

These things tend to be larger scope, and generally are worth addressing first.

5) Picking your edit.

Look at the list of edits, and see which one is going to cause the most ripples through your story. This is going to be the first thing you look at to fix. If there are more than one edits that will all have major impacts on the story, think about which edit would make the other ones easier.

For example, in my wip, Project Toxin, my plot was, well, a trainwreck and a dumpster fire’s love child. But my characterization for my MC was also a wreck. Still, getting the overall plot more in order would make it easier for me to edit my MC, so I chose plot first.

6) Make a game plan for your edit.

Before diving in and ripping through your first draft, come up with a game plan. Brainstorm possible solutions to the edit you’ve chosen, and look at what ripples it would cause. You want to make sure that what route you take isn’t going to upset something major or crucial to your story. Most likely whatever solution you choose will cause some other upsets, so just make sure to think through what makes most sense for your story.

For example, when working on my story, I was fixing plot first. Figuring out my game plan meant looking at my scene list and moving things around/adding/cutting content until I had a plot that was much more satisfactory, and that was, in my mind, not a wreck.

Possible game plans for different types of edits:

1. Plot:

Look at your scene list. What helps to advance the plot? What is dragging the pacing. Are there any elements that you are adding or cutting in your overall story that need to be accounted for? With this in mind, cross out scenes that you want to cut, move scenes around that need to come in a different order, add scenes that need to be added, and mark scenes that need to be combined into one.

2. Characters:

For each of your characters, look at their character development. It’s going to be hard to make them come to life better on the page unless you’ve got a grasp of who they are, even if you didn’t plan them out originally. If you have not, consider listing in a spreadsheet or google doc what their backstory is, what their goals are, why they want those goals, and what a few of their strengths and weaknesses are. Also think about their voice: what words do they use more often? Sentence structures? What do they sound like when they’re talking? Stuff like that. If your character is inconsistant, pick one version of them that you want to follow (knowing that they will likely change over the course of the story), and look at what parts of them you will need to change to accomodate that.

3. Setting/Worldbuilding:

I’ve put these together here as they’re somewhat similar. For poorly explained aspects of worldbuilding, look at where you might add in little details so you can better set that foundation (this is not usually a global edit). If things are inconsistant, look at what makes the most sense for your story, and like what we talked about with characters, alter the rest to accomodate that.

7) Making edits.

This is where you really get to dig in and really move things around. Using the edit you’ve picked and the game plan you’ve developed, go through scene by scene and make the changes. I strongly recommend having a seperate doc from your rough draft to store your second draft in. Currently, my process is to have both open at the same time, and if a scene is already fine, I’ll just copy/paste it over. At least for me, however, it’s usually not, and I’ll either make tweaks to fix it up, or, more often at this early stage, I’ll rewrite it. As an added bonus, I also find that rewriting it makes my prose a lot stronger, since I’ve grown so much as a writer since I originally wrote the scene.

Since you know your story better, you may find other elements that you want to change are improving as you edit. If not though, don’t worry - they’ll get their own editing pass.

8) Repeat steps 5-7

You made a list of edits you needed to make back in step four. Now, follow steps 5-7 to make all of those edits and changes.

9) Repeat steps 2-8

Two steps telling you to repeat in a row? Yes. The deal now is that you want to make sure you’ve cleaned up any global edits before moving on to anything smaller. If you’ve been thourough thus far, this will be a very fast step. If not, think of this step as a safety net. There may have been ripples that you didn’t notice earlier on, and it’s a good thing you’re catching them now.

10) Chapter edits

At this point, we’ve cleaned up all the big edits. Now we’re going to look at each chapter. Within each chapter, there needs to be a mini-arc. A beginning, middle, and end. This is the time to really focus on that. Also focus on things like tightening up prose, combining or compressing paragraphs, making sure you’ve adequately set the scene, etc. If you’re over the word count limit regarding your genre, also focus on cutting a certain number of words from each chapter to put your story back within those limits.

11) The little things

This is about combing through your wip to find all of the little errors that have made their way through edits. Typos, weird or incorrect grammar, useless adverbs, things like that. At this point, everything is on a more superficial level.

Beta Readers

Given that this has gotten quite long, I’m not going to go in depth about beta readers here, but around step 10/11, you’re going to start recruiting beta readers (you’re going to want to try and have multiple rounds of somewhere around 10 betas each, which is why having a good author platform is useful: recruiting is easier). Between each round, you’re going to look at their feedback and make the necessary edits. After several rounds of beta readers, you’re going to look it over a few more times, and then if you’re going the traditional publishing route, you’re going to query agents. If you’re going the self-pub route you’re going to look to hire a professional editor. If you’re not looking to publish, this may be the end of the line.

Good luck editing!

[arcticdementor]

I concede that this first bit is insufferable.

I have been an activist since I was old enough to be politically conscious. I helped organize gay rights rallies when I was 16, participated in the admittedly vague anti-corporatism of the late 90s, then dove headfirst into antiwar activism when the bombs started to fall on Kabul and Jalalabad. I spent five dispiriting years devoting myself to anti-Iraq activism more or less as a vocation. Now I do housing work here in the city. I’ve been in more groups and committees and “circles” than I care to remember. I’ve had the glamorous banner-unfurling moments and many more of the tedious “who’s going to rent the porta potties” moments. I’ve done the tabling and waded through the interminable listserv posts. I’ve been in group after group that was wracked with toxic left shit but still got it together to put on great events. I’ve waved signs, chanted the chants, occupied buildings, lied down in the street, made speeches, handed out leaflets, and sang the songs. Did any of it matter? No idea. But I did it all the same and I wouldn’t change a thing.

The preceding paragraph will, I’m sure, invite accusations of insiderism or big-timing, which I understand. I would prefer to leave it out. But it’s necessary to establish experience, and experience is useful because I have been forced to consider “the antifa question” since before many people who call themselves such were born. And so I enjoy the perspective of understanding that radical left opinion on the whole scene has traditionally been vastly more complicated and critical than it is today, where people on social media who have no protest experience that doesn’t involve pink pussy hats doggedly defend antifa for naked culture war reasons. Antifa has always been complicated, but its new admirers insist it can never be complicated.

…

The wagons are being circled as we speak. Antifa are in the news, as they have once again attacked a journalist for reporting on them while in the process of, well, I don’t really know. I would be opposed to attacking journalists regardless of the purpose of any group of protestors - I believe in the press and rights and see, the whole idea is that we show people our values and invite them into our movement, publicity is the point - but it’s particularly hard to have sympathy for the cosplay crew here, given that they’re not acting as part of any organized movement for any coherent purpose. It’s never been particularly easy to grok what any little group of antifa think their goals are, or how exactly their tactics will help them achieve those goals. But now they’ve got a media relations team, which conveniently for them is literally the media, and so no critical considerations of their goals will be forthcoming. Efficacy? Darling, efficacy doesn’t even come up.

…

Which is all righteous and makes sense. The trouble is that these historical conditions are totally different from those of the 21st century United States, and it’s never been clear how these principles connect with contemporary antifa’s tendency to only appear at protests. Though many people would love to pretend that this isn’t the case, we are not in fact living in an America where Proud Boys wander through Chelsea randomly beating up gay people without resistance from the police. This is the part that they will snip and post to Twitter to mock, but that’s cope. They don’t genuinely believe that we have the same level, rate, or lack of consequences for extreme right-wing violence that once justified historical antifa tactics. (A country that has seen a near-total takeover of its institutions by fringe left social justice politics is not a country that is slipping into fascism.) Every time the Proud Boys do some of their pathetic antics it makes the news, which is to say that it’s rare enough to be worthy of making the news. You don’t actually think that torching a Walgreens in Chicago in 2020 is the same as getting into a street fight with the PNF in 1926 and this conversation would be less tedious if you stopped pretending you did.

Meanwhile porting these tactics to protests has never made perfect sense to me. The vast majority of protests feature no violence, which is good, and the biggest violent threat is from the cops, who antifa fight far less often than some people think. (Which, by the way, is also good.) Typically antifa raise the underlying level of tension in a protest, particularly with the cops but also with the local community, for no benefit to anyone’s security. When violence does erupt I have never in my life seen antifa actually deescalate to reduce the risks to protesters. I’m just being real with you. At most protests I’ve been to where shit got hairy, most antifa seemed to just want to hurt people. And suddenly we’re a long way from looking out for the Hasidim when the brownshirts are making trouble in Stamford Hill, aren’t we?

This is why there has been distrust and profound misgivings towards antifa from within the radical left protest movements since before I was born.

Yes, my friends. Dedicated radicals, old school commies, Quakers and trade unionists and environmentalists, people who need four digits to number the protests they’ve attended - all kinds of no-bullshit far-left activists have had ambivalent or worse feelings for antifa for a very long time. That shouldn’t be surprising; some people, a minority but some, declare themselves antifa because they lack satisfying opportunities for violence in their lives, and protests create conditions where it’s easier to find targets and easier to evade arrest. Of course the stock move when something done by a protester crosses the line of basic decency is to claim that they weren’t “really antifa.” (There’s no Scotsman less true than antifa.) People insist that antifa is not a group and has no membership or organization, which is true but also makes it nonsensical to say that there is such a thing as “really antifa.” Either way, the problem is that this refusal to subject antifa to basic moral evaluation is quite new and very bad. Let me be clear: the bullshit universal exonerations that people on the “left” perform about antifa today, their absolute refusal to judge any antifa actions for any reason in any context, is not an expression of solidarity but its betrayal. Lefties of all stripes have often had conflicted feelings about antifa, going way back, including some dedicated people who self-describe as antifa themselves.

…

Well, hey, I agree: antifa is harmless. Certainly they’re not generally destructive. Most of them are well-meaning, if a little cringey. In the vast majority of the circumstances in which they gather antifa are simply irrelevant, making no material difference to events (marches and rallies and protests) that are fundamentally communicative in nature. Conservatively speaking I’ve been to 400 street protests in my life and antifa have been at most of them. They almost never do anything but stand around in their ridiculous Matrix cosplay and try to look tough, which is hard to accomplish for a movement made up of slam poets and people who have nowhere to put the energy they used to put into Division II field hockey. I’ve been to fucking Earth Day celebrations where the kids were hanging out in their black hoodies going “uh, is anyone doing a fascism here,” and nobody could tell you why, certainly not them. But who cares, right? At a protest you want numbers and you accept that some percentage of them are there for clout and some are protesting chemtrails and some are feds. You let them get folded into the broader meaning of the event and if someone really acts out of pocket you throw them out. Now, though, the internet has decided that antifa are blameless in all things, so when we see genuinely bad behavior like neckbeards beating up girls for filming them in public places (great optics guys!) the avatars of the contemporary left celebrate rather than insist they knock it off.

…

Once upon a time people said “I support this movement and these ideals, but this behavior, this event, this person, no.” That would seem to be a basic aspect of adult maturity, to recognize that no political tendency, no matter how idealistically envisioned, can be healthy without good-faith criticism and social pressure from allies. But where once movement leaders with intrinsic credibility would lead the conversation about whether antifa were crossing the line at an event and needed to be confronted, now antifa gets discussed by a PR team of Twitter bluechecks who have never protested anything, know nothing about the myriad weird social realities that afflict all protests, don’t live in the neighborhoods where protest violence is happening, and have mostly already forgotten about the spasm of meandering, much-hashtagged protests from last year.

Someone who does Ted Lasso recaps for Buzzfuck.com thinks that antifa has to be good because the name says they’re against fascism. The poetry editor at the Times, who wouldn’t deign to sit through a boring organizing meeting in a million years, wants you to know that anyone who criticizes antifa is part of “the fash” by definition. Some shithead PhD at a nonprofit that gives report cards about how dedicated defense contractors are to recycling likes to throw on the black bandana he got at Hot Topic and march around at protests like a fucking circus clown and wants you to know that everyone must support our antifascist warriors. No skin in the game, no philosophical backing, no wisdom, no leadership. I am baffled by why people who work in media think I should give a single fuck what they think about antifa, given that the first time they saw the letters A-N-T-I-F-A strung together was about 15 months ago. These people pretended to care about protests for exactly the socially prescribed length of time, have moved on to pretending to care about Afghanistan, and in five years will look back on it all with mild distaste, when they aren’t preoccupied by their kid’s orthodontist appointments.

Meanwhile, the movement will shamble on, strange unkillable creature that it is, and the people who turn up will march and chant and yell and demand, and I will be among them, and I will accept the protests for all their faults. And we’ll all have to live with antifa. How they act will be, in large measure, an expression of what the rest of us tolerate, what our protest culture accepts. Will this new left, impassioned but immature, develop a set of communal values that define rights as well as demands, an ethos that recognizes that all true radicalism comes packaged with its own constraints, and rein in the kind of masked children who are raging against nothing in Portland?

It would be hard for me to give you any answer other than no.