#the great snake debacle

[lokidokeyartichoki]

Excuse me, what?? You fought a huge python???? You can't just drop that in the tags and not explain how that happened

Lmaoooo I forget not all of you were here in 2015.

This all happened in the very exotic area of the northern suburbs of Chicago. I used to pet sit for a guy who owned a reptile roadshow, and he had like 2 black throat monitor lizards, a few ball pythons, a couple of boa constrictors, a sulcata tortoise, some more lizards and snakes, a tarantula, a snapping turtle and an African millipede. Anyway, I got to feed the smaller animals because they needed to be fed more often but the Burmese python (pictured above) and the adult monitor lizard were fed before he left every time.

They’re all show animals, so they were trained that they were only getting food in their enclosures to minimize incidents at shows. I misunderstood the directions to mist the python’s moss bed and stuck my hand and squeeze bottle into the Burmese’s enclosure.

At the time I had two small dogs and I wasn’t a familiar smell so I don’t blame the snake at all, but it struck my left hand and threw coils around my arm. The snake constricted and let me tell you that thing was 80lbs of pure muscle. Pythons have four rows of teeth on the roof of their mouth and they’re all hooked back to aide in moving food down their throat. So I’m like, “fuck okay” and started pushing my hand back further into its mouth to unhook the teeth.

By the time I managed to get the snake off my arm (it was turning purple) I hadn’t figured out how I was going to close the sliding glass door and my grip weakened enough for it to turn around and bite my right wrist. Which is my dominant arm and all I can remember thinking was “oh okay I guess this is happening now” in the calmest and most resigned way possible. So now the 17ft snake has thrown coils again, is constricting my dominant arm, immobilizing a joint and I’m like “wtf did Jeff corwin and Steve Irwin teach you dumbass”. So I struggled with the snake as gently but firmly as I could until I unhooked it again from my arm. I’m talking prying a hand sized snake head off my limb with my usually useless left hand. It was all in all a 20 minute fight that ended with me getting the snake off and quickly locking the enclosure.

(I did not realize it at the time but if I had stood up and tried to use gravity to get the snake off or moved it out of the enclosure so I had more room I could easily have died if it decided to throw coils and constrict my chest. But that comes into play later.)

ANYWAY, I then wash all my puncture wounds out with antibacterial soap and call my mom who was hysterical and told me to go to the ER. There’s nothing quite like showing up to the ER in a suburb like “yeah I got bit by a very large nonvenomous snake 😔” and they’re like “?????” So all my punctures get washed out with saline and then they take X-rays to make sure no teeth broke off inside my arms.

The funny bit, the funniest part of this whole thing was I was in an intensive out patient group therapy program at the time. Imagine your new patient of like 2 weeks suddenly walks into group one Thursday morning with their forearms and hands all professionally wrapped up with gauze and shit. They were all like “did you self harm” and I was all “no I got bit by a 17ft 80lb snake” and they were like “we haven’t heard that before but we need to unwrap them to verify”. But I was like “Peggy you don’t understand if you unwrap them I can’t wrap them up again and the doctors told me to keep them covered” but Peggy was like “I need to make sure you didn’t cut or self harm” so she unwrapped my arms and was very surprised to find out I had, in fact, been attacked by a large snake instead of lying about it.

Anyway, I then found out that I’m more terrified of open communication and conversation about relationships than possibly dying fighting a snake so I learned a lot about myself that week lmao.

[arolesbianism]

Sigh. Why must you have died Aris, now I have to actually think abt what your abilities are instead of just sweeping it under the rug and calling it good enough

[sillygoofyqueer]

I'M BACK WITH MORE ANGST

(but first of all!!! i loove that characterization of wei qingwei, the pirate-dad-peak lord; i can see him being the only peak lord/person who is allowed to casually fix stray feathers on shen qingqiu's wings, because he never makes a big deal out of it or acts like he's made of glass. he fixes it like he fixes someone's hair or clothes, which is a bit of normalcy shen qingqiu is probably desperate for)

so i was thinking: water prison. the whole jin lan city debacle goes roughly the same, only of course with the added accusations of sqq having been an untrustworthy, scheming demon all along and the accusations being a bit more dire. public opinion turns against him badly and he gets hauled off. the old palace master would probably go all in on his demonic heritage and accuse him of a slew of other things too, and then demand his wings be clipped because he'll "escape otherwise". it's not great but shen qingqiu doesn't use his wings to fly that often, and he'll molt soon anyway so he agrees with the conditions (if only to soothe things over). but then ofc in private they do whatever they want and the old palace master changes clipping to pinioning, which is significantly worse, very painful, and cripples him (bonus points if the little palace mistress comes to the prison with her whip and gets a few hits in too cus his wings are drenched and hurt and difficult to maneuver<3).

i do think in this case luo binghe doesn't visit bc if he already got furious at the little palace mistress for using her whip, he wouldn't accept his shizun's wings being mutilated (however, if binghe does come it would be a similar kind of frustrating miscommunication as in canon, and when binghe gets furious when he sees shen qingqiu it's not at sqq but at the state of him, but sqq doesn't know that, and reacts in fear and self-preservation (moving away, tucking his wings tight and close to his body, eyes flashing pale blue (like a crow's!!)), which of course makes it worse; maybe binghe assumes that shen qingqiu thinks this was his idea, which he would NEVER).

when gongyi xiao (love this good boy<3) comes by ofc he's horrified to see the state of shen qingqiu's wings (clumps of blood-slick feathers on the floor, one wing clearly shorter than the other, ripped clothes and bruises), and just like in canon he immediately goes to free him bc it's unacceptable and vile, and maaaybe he jumps to the conclusion that binghe must have done this to him to punish him. with the last of his strength sqq transforms into his full crow form, which is easier to smuggle out of the prison bc gongyi xiao can bundle him up in his robes (for extra drama binghe can be like "shizun will let gongyi xiao swaddle him in his robes and hold him but not binghe??🥺🥺😡😡" "binghe please don't say it like that")

*Gripping the sides of my coffin as I force myself into a sitting position and yes, I do look as - if not MORE - fit than Tianlang-jun in that one illustration (you know the one I mean)* Hey.

This angst just hit me incredibly hard in the stomach and that's why I've been ill so...it's ALL YOUR FAULT (kidding, kidding). Anywhosles, Gongyi Xiao is precious and of course he would smuggle crow Shen Qingqiu out of the prison the moment he sees the mutilation of the poor guy's wings. If he believes Binghe did it? Another reason to dislike the guy that practically stole everything from him (I love this precious guy and he deserves better in canon 😔). He has heard so much about the peak lord grieving the loss of his disciple, and Luo Binghe repays him by practically destroying his wings?? Shameful :(

From the Zhuzhi-lang angle, imagine he's in snake form, going to find the fit guy dilf half demon cultivator that saved his life and helped him out when he should have killed him, and finding a Huan Hua Palace disciple holding a brutalised crow with overly intelligent eyes. It's not hard to jump to the conclusion that the Huan Hua disciple has either caused or helped cause these injuries upon Shen Qingqiu, and is possibly even about to kill him. Keep in mind that all Zhuzhi-lang knows is that Shen Qingqiu has been taken into custody by Huan Hua, held within the Water Prison with his wings to be clipped, multiple accusations thrown his way linked to him being a demon, and that it's the snake boi's job to save him because Shen Qingqiu saved him that one time. What would you do in that situation? Because Zhuzhi-lang attacks with no remorse. Does Gongyi Xiao die?? The real question is if I could bear the poor guy dying twice just for doing the right thing...

The miscommunication between Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu always makes me want to die because just ONE CONVERSATION WOULD FIX EVERYTHING. But that's also why it's so silly and good and I love it. The idea that Shen Qingqiu believes that Luo Binghe is the reason why his wings are so fucked up could go deeper with the idea of, back when Luo Binghe was a disciple, he was practically the only disciple that was ever allowed to touch the man's wings, and he always seemed very upset when the other peak lords got to help Shen Qingqiu with his feathers - jealous of them, in reality, but the man thought that maybe he was jealous of how Shen Qingqiu was treated despite being a demon (it was a tidgy bit of the reason). So, when Shen Qingqiu is in the Water Prison, Binghe's first order of business could be perceived as: "you want to be treated as a pathetic human? I can help with that" and ruins one of Shen Qingqiu's defining features of a demon, making him vulnerable and weak - which is how Bingge felt humans were, and how Shen Qingqiu thinks Binghe views humans. So. Angst. Yay.

[murasaki-cha]

Why I think the entire Cardan and Oak debacle is just a big misunderstanding on Oak's side

Cardan literally has the rule of no killing. The only 2 times he's shown to have taken lives in the TFOTA series is when Jude was being taken away by Madoc and when he was turned into a giant lethal snake with no control over himself. This is the guy who never even killed anyone who harmed him. That's Jude's job. Yet Oak thinks he's actively plotting to kill him, does not add up. Cardan is capable of cruel things yes but not once has he tried to harm Oak, or even implied he wanted to harm Oak and I don't see how that would have changed.

Oak functions on crippling self loathing, self doubt and self criticisms. This is the man who was questioning if he probably did manipulate Wren unknowingly with his power. He's capable of creating great misunderstandings due to his uncertainty about certain things. I'm certain that he would be able to create a whole reason why Cardan wouldn't want him alive out of something Cardan would have said and convince himself "yeah seems legit". I don't trust anything that comes out of his mouth without seeing Cardan himself, Oak's gonna be as much of an unreliable narrator as Jude when it comes to Cardan.

Edit: Guess who read The Prisoner's Throne and was right!? Me!

[glassrowboat]

Hot to Go. Michi x Baizhu.

Summary: With Baizhu's contract came changes to his very being, some he could never ignore despite longing to. This was just another example.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: NSFT, animalistic traits, fangs, people trying to act as matchmakers, masturbating, mentions of blood

“This contract will end with me.”

That was the promise Baizhu had made in the face of a freshly dug grave, dirt caking his shoes as he stared down at the name embedded in stone; immortalized in the way best known to the nation of Geo. Incense had filled his nose at the time, covering up the smell of freshly turned soil as he made the vow before a memorial to a great man and blades of grass.

Slitted golden eyes had remembered it all.

The way the wind snuck through branches, Jiangli walking off to rejoin her husband with tears in her eyes, how pearlescent scales shifted along his body as Baizhu swore an oath (one not so different from the one he had taken when he first began to learn medicine) not only Changsheng, but his master and all the predecessors that came and passed before him, that he would do his utmost even if it meant breaking and building himself anew in the process.

For he remembered all their names, the medicine they used, and the ways they all perished; having wasted away.

It was no wonder Baizhu spat in the face of fate herself as she held out a hand. To many, it would be inviting, but to him, it was a venom that held only ill will. For he would save every patient that graced his presence and himself.

In the light of a day like no other, Baizhu made a contract he would never take back.

With that came traits he had only seen on his master. Ones hidden away by layers of fabric and a hanfu sleeve tucked just perfectly so that only a single scale peaked out.

Now that scale was on his arm, and just like his master, Baizhu hid it behind a piece of cloth: a single black glove.

Over the years it got worse, more grew in its place, dotting over his arm as if they were freckles rather than a strange condition he had once considered to be eleazar despite the fact it’s native to Sumeru. (Besides, one of his parents could have been from the lush rainforest. Maybe. It was hard to tell when the only memories Baizhu had of those two were hazier than lake water). And then in came his fangs. On a lazy morning where his hair had yet to be tied up, Baizhu had looked into a mirror, ran a tongue that suddenly felt odd in his mouth over them, and nearly collapsed on the spot.

It was obvious then what was happening.

Changsheng finally spoke up and told him this was a side effect of the contract helped, too. He had scolded her then about needing to be upfront about every last detail that day. Nagged her for hours even between a lisp that came with a split tongue he had eventually learned to talk with after hours practicing by chewing the snake out.

That night, he had looked back at that same mirror, the one he already hated to see when Baizhu knew his reflection would be inside and stared.

This was a part of building himself anew.

For that first you must break.

Just like the shards splicing into his ankles, leaving his feet and ankles a bleeding mess after Baizhu had tipped the glass over and watched it fall.

So with another year more snake-like traits blossomed into his very being.

Some, admittedly, are so simple that he can fix them with a new lens prescription. Others… are far from appetizing. From the one time he actually looked at a rat and thought for a split second how it would make a perfect meal all the way to having to lock himself away for an entire week all because of one thing: going into heat.

Another talk with Changsheng had followed shortly after that debacle.

Since then, a schedule of sorts had fallen into place, all around these blasted changes that had him all the more tempted to hang a cloth over every reflected, warped version of him in Baizhu's apartment. For makeup can't cover scales the way they can the dark circles under his eyes from nights staying up studying, lotion can't smooth the peeling skin coming off like he was shedding the same way a snake would, and it certainly can't make Baizhu see anything appealing in the sweaty, almost rabid thing he hates to admit becoming once a year.

It’s unappealing.

It's gross.

It means there's nothing more than a creature staring back at-

Baizhu's grip on the brush in his hand tightened, almost threatening to snap the thin piece of wood as it crackled with restraint to stay together.

Changsheng would have told him to snap out of it, to calm down and breathe just as Baizhu was forcing himself to do now. In and out. Once, twice, thrice. And the words in front of him became clear once again.

It was everything that needed to be done next week, only four days away, and yet the promise of what was to come, again, was already haunting him. Whispering in Baizhu's ear to hurry up with writing every prescription gracing his desk, the list of herbs that need to be either bought or gathered, and anything the pharmacy will undoubtedly need in his absence.

Gui was used to this by now, at least. He would be able to fill in the gaps Baizhu wasn't able to as his own impending doom lingered.

As for Qiqi..? Well, not so much, but it's not like Baizhu could blame the little zombie, not even as he could hear her outside on the patio counting down the time she's supposed to hold her stretches with a “three, two, one,” and release. Then, on to the other arm.

Reminding herself to breathe all the while.

Advice he should take, too, as Baizhu's brush dipped back into the ink pot before him, swirling in the black liquid only to be run along the rim to remove any excess now sliding down the glass bottle in droplets. A poised hand was ready to write again, but it fell just as quickly when someone unceremoniously plopped themselves on the table Baizhu had been working on with an oof causing it to push back along the floor with a screech.

The ink bottle jostled as a mess of green, gold, and platform heels he could recognize from a mile away with their bejeweled wings filled his vision.

“Michi.” Baizhu said plainly, his brows pinched together as he stopped the bottle from tipping over.

“My favorite doctor.” She responded back with a smile on her black lips, and right below them was a new pair of gold piercings replacing the spikes he had long since gotten used to seeing them wearing.

She liked his gift, then. The charm hanging from her lip swayed back and forth with every move Michi made. That was enough to soothe some of the tension in his shoulders, keeping Baizhu’s muscles taut.

“I see you're back from visiting your employer.”

“And you were my second stop after I got back.” Baizhu's gaze traced over their arm to their hand as Michi extended her fingers to count out two. “After visiting my shop, I ran right on over here. Really, you should be honored that I graced you with my presence, Doc.”

“And who would have been your second visit then, if not me?”

As he spoke, Baizhu tapped her leg in an attempt to urge Michi to sit down properly. There was a perfectly good stool right beside him, but of course they opted to sit up where she could look down on him instead; even after all the times he's told Michi to use the furniture for its intended purpose.

“Well, let's see”- she crossed her legs, refusing to budge from her perch- “Beidou, Kazuha, Qiqi, Changsheng, and Gui over there who's failing at being subtle about the fact he's trying to sneak off to the back.”

Gui froze in his spot at being called out, one foot already through the doorway with his brown head of hair ducked down. “Hello to you too, Michi.”

“Yeah, hi.”

“I was just going to put on a pot of tea. It's about the time Doctor Baizhu here takes a break, and I'm sure you wouldn't mind?”

Michi waved Gui off with a reminder to add two spoonfuls of sugar to their cup just how they like it and tacked on a please- just to be polite.

As soon her gaze was turned away from the herbalist, Baizhu caught Gui giving him a thumbs up, silently mouthing out the words “Good luck” right before the door clicked shut.

Slipping off with ease to leave him and Michi all alone.

Or, as close as they can get to it when Baizhu can still hear a soft, deadpan voice counting out her stretches.

Maybe it was about time Baizhu put a stop to both his and Changsheng’s attempts to play matchmaker. He was having enough of it lately between the endless jabs and his worsening mood as doom day approaches. The urge to pick up his xuan brush and add it to his to-do list had his fingers running over the lacquered bamboo wood, tracing the way it was carved by expert hands.

It had to be written down before he forgot. Too many things had to be handled before he could afford to sit back and have a leisurely chat. Still, Baizhu refrained in favor of asking: “Then what brings you to me?”

“Certainly not medicine.” Michi responded, her leg stretching out to tap at the wall with her shoe.

Normally, he'd say, if Michi was anyone else, to visit after the pharmacy had closed. It was a strict rule Baizhu tried his best to keep with anyone and everyone. After all, this was the time for patients, not visits. That could be saved for after hours. It's just with Michi they would hum an agreement, one that never failed to remind him far too much of his older patients who would roll their eyes and bat off his care without a word to return to their old habits only a day later; so stuck in their ways they wouldn't bother to change damaging habits despite the fact they came to him for help. So he didn't bother.

Or, at least, that's what Baizhu has come to tell himself every time she sits before him, and he can see her tongue darting out to trace the new jewelry.

“Though, it seems you might have too much on your plate for a friendly visit.” Michi said as she gestured to the loose stack of papers he was working on, eyes scanning over it.

It took a moment longer than he would have liked to process her words, but when they did, Baizhu was already repeating the same old lie he had used time and time again for these occasions. “I'm going out of town in a few days. On Monday, to be exact. This is all my preparations for the time I'll be gone.”

“Oh yes, we can't have the pharmacy unmanned. That would mean there would be people lining up for you to come back all trying to cough into their fists.”

Baizhu ignored Michi’s fake cough into her curled up hand.

“I doubt anyone is going to suddenly break into a fever and spread it around town while I'm gone, especially when Gui will be here to man the counter, but it never hurts to be careful.” A puff of air bew past his lips, brushing that stray lock of green hair he had tried to tousle into place that morning. Today, it seems to have decided upon being just as stubborn as Changsheng always says he is.

“Fair enough.”

Michi dropped the paper she had only just picked up when Baizhu smacked her hand away, telling her it was confidential.

“Shouldn't be doing this out in the public eye then. You have a back room for a reason.” Michu huffed.

“Or, dear, you could learn to listen to me when I tell you what a patient discusses with me is only between them and I. You always have had an issue minding your own business.”

Baizhu winced at his own tone, hating how it was sterner than he meant to be with her.

“Me? My, I never.”

Not that she seemed to mind. Much.

Besides, there was always the issue of…

“Have you procured any burns since I've last seen you?”

A beat of silence passed between them before Michi mumbled out a “No.”

Holding out his hand, Baizhu waited, staring up at her with a raised brow, until Michi’s own fell into his perfectly. Briefly his touch ran over her callouses, the tough skin almost a comfort at this point, so unlike the scales he hid and the smoothness of his own after lathering himself in lotion day in and day out (they always did start to crack after he washed them too much) as he moved to push the sleeves of their dress up and out of the way to reveal a few spots of burn marks littering her arms; a result of stray sparks, as they have explained to him. At the very least, he could do something about this, for busy hands were better than idle ones.

“‘No'?” Baizhu repeated.

“Okay, maybe.” Michi admitted.

“That's what I thought.”

Baizhu tapped her knee again, encouraging Michi to sit down beside him so he could look over the scabs and patches of pink, irritated skin. This means he will have to make some more of that gel, again consisting of mist flowers, lumitoile, and a single lizard tail. The exact recipe was already pictured in his mind reading out each measurement.

The image of his recipe book, the old binding, helped distract from how her fingers were intertwined with his. A writer's bump nudging against Baizhu’s middle phalanx.

“I can already see your mind toiling away coming up with some wicked concoction.” Michi teased as she nudged the stool closer to him, also with a screech against the hardwood floor, before sitting down.

Their voice was in Baizhu's ear, so close he could hear the strain on her vocal cord as she leaned in closer and closer, all he had to do was shut his eyes and pay attention when she said “You're so cute when you're all concentrated like that.”

Baizhu's eyes snapped open as he felt her breath grazing his ear.

“Michi.” Baizhu tried to warn, only to feel like he was choking on the smell of smoke and gunpowder that always seemed to cling to her, and something that had his slitted eyes narrowing as he stared down at the list of needed stock before him. It made it all the harder to read the text ‘Order 15 windwheel asters’ all the harder even with his glasses perched perfectly on Baizhu's nose.

“Yes, Doc?”

“I'll-” Baizhu cleared his throat, “I'll get to making that salve. Please, excuse me.”

His shoes were padding across the floor, feet taking Baizhu to stand behind the counter before Michi could even reply with what would undoubtedly be some plafuk remark. Baizhu’s hands reached out to randomly grab at whatever he could through an all too familiar haze, fingertips running along the endless shelves lining Bubu's walls, tracing each handle and painted golden leaf as he relied on muscle memory to guide him.

The lizard tails were here.

The lumitoile is here.

The drawers pulled open as Baizhu fished out each item he needed, all while his head swam.

How did Changsheng go through this every year?

Even with the snake currently hiding away, nestled up and waiting for her own week of burning misery with a few extra mice Baizhu had gone out of his way to make sure she had, he couldn't understand. Not when each year since this manifested in the very depths of his bones dragging down, every step was unbearable. Only to be made all the worse as he remembered the feeling of Michi's lips on his. How the spiked piercings she had worn before poked at his skin. How Baizhu faltered as the unexpected pain shocked him to the point he hadn't even taken the time to truly memorize what kissing Michi felt like.

…The hurt look in her eyes when he pulled away.

A mist flower broke Baizhu out of his shock, the cryo energy sending a shiver down his spine causing Baizhu to gasp.

Breathe, he told himself. In and out. Three, two, one, just like he heard Qiqi still muttering from outside.

Baizhu fixed his glasses, pushing them along his nose until the golden and crystal charms hanging off the frames tickled his cheeks. Briefly the scent of herbs had Baizhu calming down, the familiarity easing him, washing over his mind like a calming breeze on a hot day, but it did nothing to soothe the smell of her burnt into his senses. It's just like a stick of incense slowly being eaten up as smoke licks at the air, masking everything else.

Baizhu looked back over at them, watching for a moment as she stared back at him with pursed lips.

“I'm sorry, Michaella,” he could see her nose wrinkling at being called their full name, “but I think it's best to have Gui take care of your prescription today.”

“That so?”

Baizhu fixed the sash tied around his waist, fiddling with the fabric to pull it just so. “As you said: I have a full plate. I know he'll be just as dedicated to taking care of this for you as I would be, but at the present moment, I don't have the time.”

“Right.” She drawled out, saying the word so slowly Baizhu could have sworn she was tasting it on her tongue. “I'll just go, then. After all, I'm a big girl. I don't need some salve for something like a burn or two.”

Baizhu tugged the sash again, trying to ignore how he strained against it. “Please, this is no issue to him at all. It won't take Gui long.”

“No, no, I should have just visited Beidou first. Saved us both the trouble since you're so busy.” Michi spat out.

Baizhu didn't reply even as they stood up, Baizhu didn't tell her to stay for a moment longer as she walked to the door, Baizhu didn't break the barrier he placed between them by going behind the counter to cup her cheek, and Baizhu didn't kiss her this time like he promised himself he would if the opportunity presented itself.

No, instead, his eyes stubbornly found themselves glued to the floor even as the sound of her heels clicking over that polished hardwood switched to stone as she left him behind.

Baizhu’s fingers curled around the fabric in his hands even tighter.

“Really, Baizhu?” He asked himself.

Michi is too flirtatious, he reminded himself; she has a quick temper and is keen to drag anyone into her anger with sharp remarks and harsh actions; she's- she's- Baizhu's eyes raised to catch sight of her in the plaza walking away from him, her abysmally short skirt swaying side to side with every step.

She makes a mess of him.

One he doesn't have time for. Not now, not ever. Not with all of this pathetic moth’s goals still so far from reach as he breaks every day his fingers fail to reach the moon. Not when Michi doesn't even know everything he's promised for the sake of saving others. She doesn't need to get involved in the scales he threw his life at to balance on between life and death.

Surely, she would pull away just like he did (no matter how much he regrets doing so) if his fangs grazed her skin.

The smell of smoke, gunpowder, and her ovulation still lingered.

He was supposed to have four more days, but that thought was for naught as he quickly called Gui to man the counter as he had something to attend to upstairs. The words came out strangled, faltering from what he originally intended to voice just like when Michi was sitting before him, playful eyes looking down at Baizhu with a mirth to them that never seemed to extinguish; blazing with a fire that burned everything in her wake.

The same burn tore at his joints, leaving them aching, as Baizhu ran up the stairs as fast as he could manage when his legs always felt so weak.

The door slammed between him, and Baizhu couldn't even bring it in himself to feel sorry.

Four more days. It always started on an exact date. Always. When did that fact shed away as easily as his clothes as Baizhu pushed the fabric of his pants out of the way.

The loss of friction was both a blessing and a reason to have Baizhu's eyes fluttering shut at the sight of himself. Pink, flushed tip aching to be touched and soothed.

But Baizhu hesitated.

Maybe he could drink some tea and try to calm down, maybe Changsheng could temporarily balance his Qi out just long enough to tamper this urge down, maybe he could force himself to write those prescriptions with shaky hands, anything but this: wrapping his hand around himself.

A groan fell from his lips.

Mumbling to himself Baizhu fumbled over the mattress, trying to completely kick his pants off as he reached over for the box Baizhu kept on top of his night stand along with a few silver jars containing red makeup powder, scented balms, and perfume; they were all pushed aside in favor of a bottle of lube.

Baizhu breathed in as the cold slick hit his skin, sliding over it in thick droplets, threatening to fall down to the silk sheets of his bed.

The image of Michi laid out in the sheets, brown hair spread out on the pillowcase as far as it can go, spent and satisfied with a flush to her face after she's done whatever she wanted with him struck Baizhu.

And what would happen before that….

Baizhu's forked tongue slid out, flicking as he took in the scent of his own arousal.

Michi's legs would be on either side of his waist, black lips parted as they moaned whenever he brushed against her. Three inches deep, spongey, easy to find if you have lithe fingers, and would make her toes curl as Michi rode him. How she'd squeeze around him…

Lube was pressed into his tip, smeared in with his precum as Baizhu pressed his thumb to the pink slit.

“I shouldn't be doing this.” Baizhu muttered to himself, but it did nothing to stop the way his hips jolted just at the mere thought of helping slide that dress over their thighs as she climbed on top of him.

It was always annoying. So short. It would be so easy to-

Baizhu dropped his face to the plush of his pillow to muffle the groan on his lips. It welcomed him in with the soft scent of glaze lily from his shampoo, yet he craved the lingering smell of ash that clung to Michi wherever she went; drifting through the air with ease all the way to him time and time again.

She would sit back, cross her legs as a smirk crept its way on her face and tease him without mercy just like Michi always did when they shared tea together; lipstick marks would always be left behind on her cup. Strangely, he never minded cleaning them off.

Tentatively, Baizhu gave himself a slow stroke against his cock, begging to be satiated by calloused hands.

A drop of lube fell to the linen below as Baizhu swallowed the need to say her name.

The word Michi lived and died in his tongue. Just as the idea of her hands in his hair did.

(Lips on his with the cool metal of their piercings sending shivers down Baizhu's spine).

(Her chest as he teases her nipples until she was batting his hand away because of course she would. Things always did have to be her way even with Michi's lax attitude, and Baizhu didn't see why making love would be any different).

(Hearing her say his name).

Baizhu's teeth dug into the pillow, muffling his apology to her for daring to do this- fucking his own hand- with the thought of her in mind.

Baizhu's hand squeezed his cock, the lube making it all the easier to move it up and down until his fangs were ripping through the seams of the pillow.

Tufts of cotton slipped off the mattress.

Cum joined the drop of lube.

His knees shook as Baizhu stared down at the mess he made, slitted eyes going from the splattered white painting on the sheets to the pillow he would now have to replace.

Torn apart.

The sharp tip of Baizhu's fangs poked at his lip as the image of blood, a torn neck, and wide hazel eyes flashed through his mind. Immediately, he wanted it to stop. Cricopharyngeal muscle contracting as he gagged.

If it had been Michi under him rather than a pillow...

Baizhu's scaled hand, how they traveled over every dip and curve of his knuckles, clung to the bones, had his lips curling back into a grimace as he dropped it from his half hard cock, already begging to be touched again as the burning ignited in his gut.

The tufts of cotton brushed against Baizhu's face as he rolled over to look down at himself: a creature in human skin.

The thought of what Michi would think of him in this state sent the pace of his heart fluttering like the wings of a dragonfly passing by his cheek to leave him in the dust as it flew on and off without him.

“First you must break.” Baizhu reminded himself, hand already reaching out for his aching need again.

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 24

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 24: The Middle Ages were called the Dark Ages because there were too many knights.

Wessex wasn't really that great a place to be fomenting, honestly, but after getting kicked out of Ireland after that whole debacle with Pádraig, he was in a bit of a pickle. He needed some results and fast, preferably kind of close to Ireland so he could tell Hell he was working on figuring out the "no snakes or demons allowed" thing but far enough away that they didn't expect him to do something stupid like storm Rí Laighín. And King Arthur was doing half his work for him, annexing kingdoms left right and centre and leaving disillusioned and dispossessed sons of nobility in his wake. Whole island of out-of-work knights, just needing some direction.

He took up as The Black Knight mostly because there were already a few Black Knights out there making trouble and he could recruit them and pretend it was all his idea. Before the year was out, there were fifteen Black Knights under him, popping up to harry the Pricks of the Round Table whenever they bothered leaving their pretty little walled city of Camelot. It worked out pretty well for everybody. Crowley miraculously kept the knights and their squires and servants fed and watered and sheltered, the knights were organized so they mostly hit pricks who really deserved it (a twofer for Crowley: making the rich feel pain so they curse God and making a life of crime and sin appealing by smoothing off the rough edges), and relatively few farmers or whatnot got caught in the middle and could be tempted with something else later.

And then Sir Aziraphale showed up, and Crowley realized that any souls he'd secured for Hell had probably been counterbalanced by the angel's securing souls for Heaven. Just lucky they hadn't met at the points of each other's swords, and wasn't that a sobering thought. He didn't even like carrying a sword, mostly had a human do it rather than touch the blasted thing himself. He certainly didn't want to do a replay of the War nearly 5,000 years later with someone he actually pretty well liked and respected. And he definitely didn't want to do it soggy, foggy, damned damp old Wessex.

And it wasn't even like they were having fun, like they did sometimes; their jobs weren't all bad, but they were still jobs. Crowley wasn't exactly a fan of sleeping in fields, and neither was Aziraphale. Crowley might be good at logistics and politics and could wrangle a group of rich angry fratboys and their households, but that didn't mean this was his idea of a good time, and he knew Aziraphale hated the kind of court politicking, child-rearing assignment he was probably on right now. He'd probably volunteered to go hunt The Black Knight just to get away from some wailing kid for five whole minutes.

Really, it would be in their best interest if they called it even and went and took a holiday in Vichèi or something instead. Anything would be better than setting up a tent in yet another sodding field.

But, well. The angel had gone and called him the wrong name, and he'd gone and offended the angel's sense of propriety, and look where they'd landed. Camping in another bloody field, the both of them, and not even the same one. If Crowley'd played it better, maybe they'd at least be trading work gossip and tips on where to find decent lager now that the Romans had gone and taken all their wine with them. But nope: instead he had to babysit some Medieval frat boys, not that any of them would know what the Heaven he was talking about if he called them that, and try to convince them not to launch an attack on Sir Aziraphale in the morning on the strength of "because I said so." Yippee.

Crowley really did not like fomenting. Or Wessex.

[29pageshomestuckeveryday]

Homestuck, page 3,001

[S] Jade: STRIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Song used: Sunslammer by Seth Peele

Storyboards: http://readmspa.org/storyboards/03000.swf.html

Author commentary:

It's been quite some time since we did a full-fledged strife page, with music and everything. You may recall there was a phoned-in one in Hivebent, with Karkat flailing his sickle at his crabdad in a single GIF. You have to go way back into Act 4 to find another legitimate one. They sort of fell out of favor as a format, since it was mostly a waste of creative man-hours for very little story-advancing return. The strifes always were just flavor pieces to help prop up the feeling that the story is also a game you can semi-play. But as the narrative intensity and complexity kick into higher gear, the story leans toward other devices to achieve this effect, while still pushing things forward, like the RPG mini-games. But Homestuck has a way of always coming back to earlier formats and ideas as if to say, "Don't forget, this is still a thing we can do." This strife also does double-duty as a reminder that, due to the Bec debacle, not only do the players now have to deal with Bec Noir skulking around the session, but all the lesser enemies got an insane power boost too. Just this one shot of a uranium imp in Bec Mode allows us to extrapolate the effect across a full session of enemies, and so realize how untenable it probably is now for the players to accomplish even basic things.

Other than that, there's not much to say about this strife. It's kind of a gag, a reprisal of Jade's original fight with Bec, but we're also getting a little teleportation tour of all known locations throughout the session, plus some we haven't seen before.

But just because this strife page is basically useless, it doesn't mean we can't do a few small useful things along the way. Jade swings by Dave's golden ruins and fires a shot that wakes him up. So, cool, he's awake, which means that soon Dave and Jade finally will be able to talk and catch up on stuff. In fact, he's got a great reason to get in touch with her, since he just saw her randomly appear in his land with an imp, fire a gun, and disappear again.

Here's another useful datapoint in a panorama of nonsense: a glimpse of a huge statue of Jade's denizen, Echidna. If you were following along back in the day and were ass-deep in Homestuck lore, the moment you saw that statue, you'd have known it was Echidna. Why? Because it was previously established that the kids' browsers all had the same names as their denizens. We've already seen the little two-tailed snake icon on Jade's desktop. And here's a huge snake beast with two tails. We also know that the wands the bunny was wielding are the Quills of Echidna. And those needley things on the denizen's back sure look like quills. There's also a Future Dave strolling around, ridiculously underdressed for the weather. What's he doing out there? Do we ever find out? I don't remember at the moment. I think his presence here is mostly about letting us know Future Dave really gets around. He's got a lot more time to spare than everyone else.

[jeannahas]

Pathfinder Ancestries - From a First Timer!

Ok: I have to say - I love the sparks of creativity firing as I read the pathfinder ancestries. I've never looked at or opened Pathfinder 2e, but back when I first started to get into RPG's back in 2012-2015, I was introduced by means of Pathfinder 1e, and My brothers and I (Who never played an actual game) spend countless hours making character after character, checking it against the rules, and comparing builds and backstories.

Well, with this whole Debacle that's pushed me away from 5e DnD, I've delved back into Pathfinder with 2e, and oh am I enjoying myself already!

I just wanted to talk about some of my favorite ancestries:

First and Foremost - The ANADI!

I love Anansi, and I love the fact that this ancestry seems like a homage to that legend - Spiders, who become people! I cannot tell you the sheer number of role-play and storytelling options that come to mind with a race that learned how to shapeshift specifically so they could be less terrifying to other inteligent species in order to interact with the wider world - and their ancestral feats are fun, thematic, and fit in great! I have made two characters for Pathfinder 2e in preparation for some games, and one of them is and Anadi Gunslinger- this is going to be fun. Tons of options to customize your shapeshifting abilities, spider and human forms, and your abilities in both.

LESHY - Adorable! If I ever played one, I would love to play as a group of Leshy's out to tackle the world. Lots of tiny, cute plant-people trying to survive a wider world without dying - it would be a hilarious one / four shot.

NAGAJI - Yuan-ti ish, but not evil? Fascinating! I love the philosophical bent of this group of snake-people - they have a lot of the things I enjoy about the Yuan Ti, but the fact that their culture is completely unfamiliar, means that encountering them would be a novel experience for me - I don't know if I would rather play one, or play a normal character running into them, but I would love to explore the implications of this culture.

ANDROID - Always been a favorite of mine. When I took up DnD in 2018 I was sad they didn't have androids, and Warforged just didn't scratch the same itch - mostly but not quite humanoids trying to survive a world that doesn't understand technology? With a mind that uploads and then downloads a new soul every so often? Fascinating implications if your character's body was an adventurer as well, and you run into someone who "Knows" you.

FLESHWARPS- I AM SO EXCITED THIS IS AN ANCESTRY OPTION. I was low key obsessed with the flesh warping process in Pathfinder 1e, and the dark elves experiments, the fact that they could create entire other creatures by dunking people into their warping pits. I love that this is intentionally a very customizable class, and just...super creepy. Comes with automatic backstory too - if your character is a Fleshwarp, what were they before? How have they taken to their twisted transformation? I would love to explore these themes someday.

GHORAN - PLANT PEOPLE! They remind me of one of the magical races from the Beyonders Series by Brandon Mull - plant-people with a seed that they can regrow from, giving them functional immortality so long as they can re-plant and grow the seed they stem from. A bit of personality shenanigans when they regrow too, which could be run to role-play if your character's personality shifts a little after "Dying" and being re-planted. I'd probably home-brew them a little bit to be more humanoid in some ways... but I'd have to play them as is first before making any changes.

KASHRISHI - RHINO BUG SURVIVALISTS! Hyper adaptable stubby rhino-people, which a magical ability to adapt to their environment with each generation. These guys would be cool to see, or role-play, I'd love to give it a try someday.

That's all, Might post on this topic randomly later. :D

[man-and-atom]

All the way back in 1959, Bennett Lewis of AECL (known as the father of the CANDU system) suggested that nuclear power plants might be preferred over further hydro development in British Columbia, simply to save the cost of long transmission lines — but that an equally good reason would be to save the salmon runs. “There will no longer be any economic necessity to harness the full potential of rivers for power.”

This echoes the controversy today over the three dams on the lower Snake River, which together supply about 1000 MW of electricity, much of which is taken by the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, some 1500 km away. This is about the same amount of power that used to be furnished by the Trojan nuclear power station upriver of Portland, and if it were still in service, or more than one of the WPPSS plants had been finished, removing those dams would be a great deal easier.

Sir Fred Hoyle, in Commonsense in Nuclear Energy (1979), discusses the contrast between nuclear power stations and hydro developments in their effect on the environment, quite apart from dam collapses, which (unlike nuclear power plant accidents) really do kill thousands of people. (Most major dam accidents, such as Macchu or the recent Wadi Derna disaster, involve dams built primarily for irrigation or flood control, but Vajont was a pure hydro project.) And it’s not hard to believe that large-scale desalting along the lines of the Bolsa Island Project of the Metropolitan Water District of Southern California, by disconnecting the Los Angeles region from the Colorado River system, could make a difference for water management all the way back to Wyoming.

Likewise, if “nuclear” were a word that could be spoken in either BC or Nova Scotia politics, the Muskrat Falls and Site C dam debacles would never have happened. Muskrat Falls can match even the worst nuclear projects for delays and cost overruns, and requires long transmission lines, whereas a nuclear plant could as easily be located on the Avalon Peninsula near the city of St John’s as anywhere else. And Site C, even before we consider the native land claims situation, raises serious geological stability concerns, which is why BC Hydro rejected it in the past.

But there really is no shame in “throwing massive amounts of energy at” a problem, so long as that energy is cheap enough, and has a small enough environmental footprint. Fission energy can meet both criteria, and may be the only energy source we have which can do so pretty much anywhere. Energy is, as has often been pointed out, the ultimate substitute resource, capable of taking the place of labor, land, and raw materials. This is, at least in part, what Dr Seaborg meant when he said —

Human civilization is rapidly approaching a series of crises that can be managed only through some radical departures in Man’s dealings with the relationship between energy and matter.

Source

Source

[naughtygirl286]

So yes this week we finally went to see the Hunger Games Prequel The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes. we were going to go see Silent Night but there was a change in plans being one of the ppl going to that ended up not being able to go so we went to see The Hunger Games which i was interesting in seeing. I wanted to see this being I went to see the original series and I did enjoy those movies.

Now this one it is many years before the first movie The Hunger Games (2012) this is pretty much an origin story for Donald Sutherland's President Snow you meet him when he is younger he is simply Coriolanus Snow (played amazingly by Tom Blyth) and he is still in school at the academy in the Capitol. Movie takes place during the 10th Hunger Games and the games are foundering and people are loosing interest and he comes along and revolutionizes it to what it would become in the first movie as well as it show his slow rise to power.

He is a nice and somewhat noble guy at the beginning when he is young but as the time goes on and he get his hands a little bit more dirty here and there and a little bit more corrupted as the years go on you can see him turning into the Donald Sutherland version of the character.

Now I thought the movie itself was really good you can see were stuff and ideas shown in the original series came from. Also I felt this movie had alot of political intrigue type of stuff it was very actiony too but I do feel it was kinda of a bit of a political thriller in away. Also with the whole political intrigue/thriller thing the title of the movie has a bit of a double meaning and you won't get it until after you watch the movie itself when it was over that is when it hit me and I was like "Oh.." lol

I thought also it was really well acted by of course Tom Blyth and of course by Rachel Zegler who plays the female lead Lucy Gray Baird. Now I know she is a very polarizing person at the moment with the whole Snow White debacle but she was very good in this so I don't know what to say. Also Viola Davis as Dr. Volumnia Gaul was awesome too. She plays such a villain in stuff I think. but other then that I thought everyone did a great job on this.

So Yeah I thought it was a great movie and pretty much if you like the original series then I think you will like this one too. So I would give it a watch if you're interested.

[lokidokeyartichoki]

Somebody out here adding notes to my Great Snake Debacle of 2015 story, how’d you even find that

[whimsicalwhespir]

My ROTTMNT Headcanons:

_________________________________

Mikey:

-Slaps bandaids and stickers on everyone when they're sad! Also does the same for himself

-I love how everyone agrees Mikey can cook but I'd like to think he's memorized everyone's favorite meals and makes them on special occasions! He also totally teaches Casey how to cook so the poor boy can have a healthy and productive hobby to seperate his apocalypse life from this one

-Absolutely 100% is the most connected to his mystic abilities. He was the first to unlock them and overall shows a more deep seeded understanding of how they work. Draxum is also silently fascinated by him

-Follow up to the previous hc, after the Krang, Mikey totally trains every night to use his powers and the first thing he does is levitating a piece of pizza into his mouth

-Therapizes every single person in his family, they act all dramatic about it and poke fun at Mikey but they really do apprecate it

-Hides in his shell whenever he's sad and since it's super obvious, his family catches on quickly and can comfort him

-Has like 800 stuffed animals

-His art covers like 70% of the lair because Splinter and the boys keep hanging it up proudly and asking Mikey to make murals of them. Same thing applies to April and Draxum pretends to hate every drawing but in reality he has a special room dedicated to Mikey's art in his apartment

-Is the most empathetic of the group and knows exactly how to calm everyone down on bad days or nights

-Legally cannot say fuck (but Donnie is trying to influence him)

-Has scars on his arms from opening the portal and paints over them, turning them into art (ex: lines turn to vines with flowers or tree branches or little snakes or whatever), whenever he's down

-Painted a huge mural for his gram-gram in the lair

-Sobs hysterically at sad animated movies and shows (*handshake*)

-Calls Draxum mom and/or secondary dad

Leo:

-Sings obnoxiously loud in the shower

-Watches telanovelas late at night and gets really really into them

-Regularly practices sleight of hand and uses it in battle (once went to Hypnopottamus for lessons and neither ever talked about it again but Hypno is secretly proud of Leo's progress)

-Is a hardcore theatre geek with knowledge of plays and musicals that could rival Donnie's knowledge of other topics

-Tries to make people laugh any time he can, even if it's at his own expense

-If he could get a pet, it would be a bird so he could teach it phrases like "Dee is a nerd" and then follow Donnie around all day

-Has a bunch of nightmares about the Krang debacle and checks on everyone after he wakes up just to make sure they're okay. (Sometimes he runs into Raph and they both silently check on everyone together)

-Refuses to tell Donatello that he's his favorite brother because Leo knows it'll just go to Donnie's head

-Used to hate his face marks but his brothers kept telling him how cool they were and nowadays they regret it because all of that just fed his ego (they secretly don't really regret it)

-Couldn't sing if his life depended on it

-Is SUPER good at lying but uses it for good more than anything (ex: when they were younger, he once noticed Donnie not sleeping for a few days so he pretended to have a nightmare and asked Dee to come sleep with him to scare away the monsters. Donnie was our like a light in less than 5 minutes)

-Will do the most insane dares just for the honor

-Regularly goes to Hueso for advice

Donnie:

-Has somehow memorized every digit of pi and literally nobody understands how

-Listens to rain noises when going to sleep. Cannot stand the rain in person (it gets his tech wet)

-Is fantastic at making digital music and makes songs inspired by people and events in his life. He's also not great at singing but wow this man can rap

-Shouts "the floor is lava" at random intervals to see his brothers scramble

-Is the only family members with a driver's license

-Records EVERYTHING and due to this, he puts together people's compliments about him into a playlist and listens to them to either build his ego or just make himself feel better after a rough day

-^^^ Alternatively, he sometimes listens to people's insults as well. And oh boy, don'tcha know he also has the most traumatizing points in his life recorded too! We love listening to Leo sacrificing himself to the Krang over and over again

-Has organized the dishes in alphabetical order

-Really likes anime

-Keeps every gift ever given to him and organizes them neatly in his closet

-Really wants to exchange notes with Baxter Stockboy

-Has named all of his inventions and kisses them goodnight

-Experiences some side effects from controlling the Krang ship, such as tech being influenced by his emotions

-Takes and teaches dance lessons in secret (he uses a disguise)

-Is the best medic in the family and heals people's injuries after battles with assistance from Mikey who slaps bandaids on everyone

-Comes up with super elaborate comebacks to insults in his head after arguments but they all fall apart within 2 seconds of talking and it just devolves into calling people dumbdumbs

-Has an automated lab like Reagan Ridley from Inside Job (also unrelated, but they would totally be friends if they met)

-Uses humor to cope just like Leo

Raph:

-Is the only turtle brother who can genuinely sing

-Has stuffed animal play dates with Mikey's stuffed animals (they both try to keep it a secret and thinks nobody knows but EVERYONE knows and finds it hilarious)

-Collects coupons

-Has snacks stashed around the lair for snackmergencies

-Is the first one his brothers go to for comfort

-Carries his brothers at least 20% of the day

-Loves animals with all his heart but all of them hate him so Donnie made him a robo kitten when they were kids

-Volunteers to feed Repo Mantis' cat on weekends

-Cleans when he's stressed out

-Has eaten a whole watermelon in one bite, rind and all

-Constantly posts on social media but every picture is horrible quality

-Makes his brothers do team building exercises at least once every week during training

-Like Donnie, he also has side effects from the Krang attack but they instead take form in more psychological ways. He constantly questions if his thoughts are his own and if what he remembers sre nightmares or reality. He sometimes hears a voice in his mind but isn't sure if it's just an intrusive thought or something more

-Used to punch a specific spot on his wall whenever he got really excited because he can't keep his energy in so Donnie made him a special punching bag

-Loves watching Mikey cook and helping when he can

_________________________________

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA HEAR MORE HC'S ABOUT THESE GUYS OR OTHER CHARACTERS LIKE APRIL, DRAXUM, CASEY, ETC!!! I HAVE M A N Y.

[writingwrittenwriting]

It had been an interesting run, that's for damn sure, and now things were coming to a close. I couldn't do much about that now so I might as well enjoy the ride. I'd made my choices, burned my bridges, and nuked a few in the process. It's amazing what you can get up to with a burning grudge, a little magic and a lot of cash.

I'd had a laundry list a mile long, and just this morning I crossed off the last name while drinking the chunkiest damn coffee of my life. Grainy slop suited my last job like flies suited shit. A chaser that matched that bloody meal. Forty three names, forty three adventures, and forty three catastrophic acts of mutually assured destruction. There was no way I could go back to any kind of life now. My picture was being aired internationally, my name spoken in languages I'd never even heard of. My head was worth millions.

But that's bound to happen when you take down every corrupt official and power player responsible for what ended up being the debacle of the century. Hell, I'd say the greatest debacle of the human race. Their greed and apathy had led to the death of just under a billion confirmed. Among them, my closest friends. And not just them, countless innocent and powerless people just trying to make it day to day. People who couldn't afford to escape, and those without the power to do anything about it.

Starting my rampage, I only had six names. I didn't know how deep the rot went. But with every interrogation, every desperate attempt to shift blame, every murderously spat set of last words, more names were added. At first I'd only thought hundreds to be lost. Then thousands. Millions. Nearing the tail end of this ass of a beast, billions were exposed as victims. I was seeing red, the shit these people had done. Supplying weapons to both sides of warring factions so they'd wipe each other out. Trading human beings like baseball cards. Signing death sentences in business deals for nothing more than money. Their sins were never ending, the things I learned were endless. Every time I thought it couldn't get worse, it just got so much worse like a bad cartoon.

A never ending list of crimes, and forty three people leading the rings. None of them were easy to get to, so I'd promised my soul, tainted and dirty, to the devil himself. He gave me the skills I needed to complete my mission. The means to do the impossible and seek my revenge. The rich and unknown, the powerful and famous. All of them fell, their body guards and private armies did nothing to protect them. All the control they had, the world was truly in chaos now. But sometimes you have to burn the diseased trees for the healthy seeds to grow.

Long adventure to a close now, I was standing in front of the great devil himself, blood on my hands. Blood probably in my ass crack too with the absolute gore show I finished with.

"Well old friend, I'm done. Shows over." I let my guns fall, I'd have no use for them now. The weight of this whole venture finally fell on me, so I sank down to my knees with a tired chuckle and set my hands on my lap.

"Lets hit the road before the feds catch up." Jokes aside, I was too tired to really care anymore. But here the devil was looking down at me with something like sympathy. What the fuck, why was he dragging it out? Didn't he have shit to do? People to tempt?

"Do you know what my job truly is, warrior?" He asked in a soft sad tone, one of a man who had truly found the point of exhaustion yet had no choice but to soldier on. I shrugged my shoulders, sighing softly.

"Why ya dragging this out, man? I mean... You're the devil, you torture the assholes who end up in hell, you take the souls of the desperate and greedy. What of it?" He eyed me curiously before crouching down into a squat, his tail weaving through the air behind him like a dancing snake.

"I punish those who commit evil in their lives. Those who never repent for their horrible actions. I give an eternity of suffering to the ones who live their lives off the suffering of others. The souls I take, there are two types. Those so desperate and in such deep suffering, I give them a strand of hope. The other type are those who are twisted with evil. I give them the power that becomes their downfall so I may take them sooner. You were in the former group. Seeing what you did to those people, punishing those who lived on the suffering of others. I see much of myself in you."

Well, I coulda been speechless. The devil telling me he sees himself in me. That couldn't be a good thing, could it? But it made sense in a twisted and fucked kind of way.

"So you think we're alike, I still gave you my soul. I'm still damned. I'm done now, you might as well take whats left of me and get this over with. I aint got all day now, you know. Hah. I probably have ten minutes until someone catches up to me. I'm fucked, so let me make good on our deal." Still he stared at me, before he offered his hand.

No clue how giving a soul away works, I took his clawed gnarled hand and let him pull me up onto my feet, knees shaking like a hooker on new years day. To my surprise, he pulled my arm over his shoulder and lifted me, guiding me through a glowing red door and into the hottest driest room I'd ever sweated in.

"Our deal is for your soul. However, I'd like to offer a amendment to our contract. Only if you agree, as our contract is signed and I shall honour it if you so choose." A table with a chair on both sides appeared, like an interrogation room. He helped me into one, then disappeared to reappear in the other.

"I'm listening" What other choice did I have? Besides, you never know what you might get if you agree to a deal with the devil. I was curious, not going to lie.

"I don't want your soul, you don't deserve what would happen to you if I were to take it. Instead, I want you to join me in hell. As an assistant if you will. You're clever, you have a strong sense of justice. I want you to take down the type of people you're already so adept at hunting. Make deals with them that lead them to their deaths. Work with me."

Well fuck, I was flabbergasted. I didn't expect that. The devil recruiting me? Wasn't that a bad thing? Why did it feel like I'd be doing good, working for the devil. I stared at him like he'd just offered me a timeshare.

"What?" He waved his hand, our contract appearing on the table.

"You sign the new deal, you go back to Earth with a new face. New powers. You continue your work, taking out the people who think they can take what they want with no consequences."

"Well shit, that sounds great and all, but what's the catch?" Staring at him curiously, I frowned in thought. He took a deep breath, let out a long sigh.

"You're going to see the worst of humanity for a long time. It will never end. You'll feel such exhaustion, like you've never known. No matter how hard you work, it will only continue to get worse. You'll wish you had no soul."

The emotion in his voice... Something ancient and exhausted. I looked at the contract, already I felt so tired... Could I do something like this? Continuing to rid the world of those assholes sounded like a dream job, but the devil sounded so burnt out. Was this worth it?

"Ah hell, I've already given you my soul. I might as well. At least I'll still get all the hotdogs and chili I want on earth." I dabbed my finger in the blood that was starting to dry on my nose and smeared it on the contract. Dramatic, yes, but I couldn't hold a pen. A fingerprint would do.

"You're going to regret this. Thank you." He truly sounded as though he meant every word. I just snorted, acting tough.

"Mom always told me I could grow up to be whatever I wanted. Might as well be the devils assistant."

As the end of your deal with the devil comes to an end you summon him once more to hand over your immortal soul, you knew what you were getting yourself into from the start and despite it all you are satisfied to end it this way… only the devil seems weirdly reluctant to take your soul now

[meloncalic]

Engineer Tattoo Lore™

hello!! welcome to my brain dump concerning the Star Boy and his Tattoos

(fyi: these aren’t all of em that i think he has,,)

putting this under a read more bc it got long.. 

Chica

his beloved pupper, because of course he would

may have gotten it when he was drunk but doesn’t regret it for a moment

The Little Dipper - Has a bit more backstory, first tattoo he ever got

He had a great relationship with his grandfather, a pilot. Mark used to spend the summers with him.

Where his grandpa lived, it was one of the very few spots where light pollution was almost non-existent in the 2050s.

When he was 5 or 6, Mark gawked at the night sky, not for the first time and certainly not the last. But he asked “What’s that?” as he pointed to Ursa Minor.

His grandfather explained to him about the vastness of space. That giant balls of gas millions and millions of miles away just happened to line up into that shape. 

“Woah...” and he never stopped that wonder.

So in memory of his grandfather passing, and the spark that started his journey learning about Space, Mark got the constellation tattooed.

6.626 - Planck’s Constant (rounded & not in scientific form bc it would be too long if not shhhh) 

Got it the 2nd year of University.

It seems so simple but he literally couldn’t remember the number for the life of him. Especially under the pressure of tests.

It’s on the inside of his arm and during his 3rd year finals, his professor saw it. Thought he was cheating and nearly expelled him on the spot.

Had to spend 5 minutes trying to convince the proctor that he could not, in fact, scrub it off.

The Captain, who had a front row seat to this exchange, makes fun of him for it to this day.

Still sneaks a look at it sometimes for ship calculations.

Ophiuchus (with the words “per aspera ad astra” below it)

the constellation Ophiuchus contains Barnard’s Star, the second closest star system to Earth. (besides Alpha Centauri, but i felt that was a bit obvious and overplayed in space colony media)

Maybe that’s where the Invincible was headed/ended up landing. Maybe it’s just the symbolic nature of colonizing the stars.

up to this point, this is Mark’s reason for getting it. Everything past this is my own lil Lore injection bare with me

The constellation itself is a man grasping a snake. From what I’ve found, the interpretation fluctuates between the man gipping the snake violently or just holding it and showing it off.

I see this as a metaphor for the whole Engineer isn’t Actor, Actor might be Engineer debacle, with a power dynamic shift that i really like: Actor not in control/being “tamed”

Anyways

“Invincible” (in the USA language)

Got after the events of ISWM. Not that he could ever forget the adventure, but the word had new meaning to him now. Small and on the inside of his wrist.

The Captain has a matching one on their opposite wrist (the hands they were holding in the Hold On sequence)

[from-a-reckless-writer]

dove down my rabbit hole of wips and one of my wips isnt a wip anymore! so here, have some gay shit....

“Kelly wants to get married in the woods, I want to get married in Midvale. So, apparently, our wedding will just happen via Zoom. Her in the woods, me at the beach. Ain’t that just fucking grand?”

Alex comes through the door like a hurricane covered in leather. Her helmet lands on Kara’s counter loudly. Her keys haphazardly thrown somewhere in the general direction of the bowl by the door.

“Then have two weddings.”

Alex follows the voice and her eyes zero in on her sister’s best friend.

Lena is sitting on the floor of Kara’s apartment, wearing an oversized sweater. Her dark hair spilling down her shoulders softly. A hand wrapping around a wine glass, the other typing on her laptop, not even jumping in the slightest at the commotion that is Alex’s entrance.

Alex plops down on the couch sighing loudly, not even batting an eye at this utterly domestic scene that is her sister washing the dishes with Lena Luthor on the floor of her apartment.

Lena doesn’t comment at the Danvers’ Sisters antics and Alex doesn’t call them out on the ridiculousness that Lena and Kara are still keen on keeping up.

The three of them already well desensitized to one another’s preferred brand of bullshitery.

“You know, sometimes I forget you're a rich-ass bitch and then you say shit like that and suddenly, I remember,” Alex says, smoothly snatching the wine from Lena’s hand.

She finishes the entire glass in one gulp and Lena rolls her eyes. Alex had finally proposed to Kelly the other week and well, that meant this week all of them had fallen victim to the Olsen-Danvers wedding debacle. It seems today isn’t the day that that whole dilemma is going to stop.

The wedding, of course, was still a few months away, but both parties were stressing about it as if it was going to happen immediately the next day.

Kara swoops in then, mussing up Alex’s hair, earning her an annoyed Hey stop it! before putting down another wine glass and pouring for Lena. Her arms are still wet from washing the dishes.

Lena murmurs her thanks and continues what she was saying, “Well, since you’ve finally remembered that I’m a billionaire. Let me pay for two weddings.”

Alex chokes on the wine.

“What? You’re kidding me, right?”

Lena continues typing, ignoring Alex’s shock, you’d think she didn’t just offer to pay for a wedding.

“Well, I mean, I’m never gonna get married,” Lena explains, “but if you let me do this, I can brag around that I’ve paid for two weddings. Not to mention I’m gonna make two brides very, very happy.”

“Or,” Kara interjects, lowering herself on the opposite side of the couch, perfect for Lena to lean back between Kara’s legs and lay her head on the side of her thigh. “You can just wait for Kelly to get here,” Kara says, pointedly. “Talk it out like normal adults and reach a compromise.”

Kara’s hands start to snake their way from Lena’s hair to Lena’s shoulders, massaging, all too aware that Lena won’t stop whatever it is she’s working on on her laptop till everybody gets here.

Lena lets herself melt and closes her eyes, sighing as Kara’s fingers dip at the junction of her neck and shoulder with just the right amount of pressure.

“I don’t wanna get married in the woods, Kara.”

Lena opens one eye to take a peek at Alex, who looks exasperated, her eyes pleading, gulping down another glass of wine.

“Don’t tell me,” Kara replies. “Tell Kelly.”

“The bugs, Kara,” Alex moans. “Imagine the bugs, and the moss and the ughhh.”

She dramatically thumps the back of her head on the couch.

“Imagine the soil. Clumpy wet soil. Eurgh. Ew. What if I fall face first in that? What if I trip over a stupid tree root in my heels? In my wedding dress?!”

“Alex, you don’t even have a dress yet,” Kara deadpans.

“I thought you were gonna wear a suit,” Lena adds.

“You two suck.” Alex pouts.

****

The rest of their friends arrive and Kara finally succeeds in prying Lena’s work laptop away from her. Alex was already teasing the line from tipsy to drunk by the time Kelly comes through the door.

“Let’s get married in Vegas!!!!” Is how Alex decides to greet her fiance.

Kelly laughs, gives her a peck then answers, “As much as that sounds like a very convenient wedding, I don’t think Eliza would appreciate that, baby.”

Alex frowns at being rejected, sags against the couch and crosses her arms. Why does Kelly always have to be right?

“How much has she had to drink?” Kelly turns to Kara.

“Uhh ask Lena. She made her switch to whiskey.”

Lena—who Kelly thinks was way too busy nuzzling against Kara’s neck to even answer her question—mumbles something that sounds like “S’was just two glasses.”

Kelly just shakes her head, makes Alex drink a glass of water. Her ring making a clink against the glass.

“Alright, what if,” Nia sing-songs, eyes sparkling with mischief, “we just settle this whole wedding thing with Charades?”

Nia claps her hands together like some gameshow host and Kelly takes a deep breath through the nose.

She’s been to enough Game Nights to know where this is headed.

Everybody else was intoxicated enough to accept the suggestion as a grand idea, not at all even thinking that: Hey, isn’t this something we should all take seriously?? Maybe ask the brides what they want, maybe???

Kara nods enthusiastically, agreeing immediately, “Oh!! That’s a great idea! Fun and fair at the same time!”

“Olsen vs. Danvers. Brides get to pick their teams.”

Nia pulls a white board out of nowhere, uncaps a marker and writes “Team Danvers”, “Team Olsen” separated by a neat line in the middle.

“Are we really letting Nia take charge of our wedding venue?" She hears Alex whisper from where she has her tucked at the crook of her neck.

Kelly sneaks a glance at the chaos happening before their eyes; Brainy already claiming to be on Kelly’s team, J’onn shaking his head opting to be the game scorer instead and refusing to participate, somebody’s shouting about: NIA, DREAM PROJECTIONS AT CHARADES IS CHEATING!!!!

Guess this is their life now.

Kelly smirks, boops Alex on the nose and says, “Scared you’ll lose, Danvers?”

****

Alex loses by three points.

“How was I supposed to know you were gesturing 'Transformers'!?!” She barks at Kara, throwing her hands in exasperation.

“I pointed at Nia!” Kara huffs, incredulous at the fact that her sister is blaming her.

Nia lost them a point too!

“What does Nia even have to do with it???” Alex’s voice grows higher in pitch. Her brows furrow in a mix of confusion and frustration.

“Trans, Alex. Trans.”

“Oh my God,” Alex groans. “How are you this dumb?”

And that was the story of how Kelly got her dream wedding.

****

The frenzy finally dies down, some time between Nia making up another drinking game and J’onn making her sit back down. A movie that none of them were watching provides a background noise to the almost lazy atmosphere. Kelly and Alex were pressed close on the far end of the couch, enjoying the temporary quiet.

“Guess we’re getting married in the woods, huh?” Alex murmurs.

“I guess we are,” Kelly whispers back. Alex beams at her, grinning dopily at the thought of finally getting the ending they deserve. It would be the perfect day, she has no doubt about that. No matter where they are. It would be perfect because they got there together.

Alex can’t wait.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.”

Alex continues to smile stupidly, nudges her nose to Kelly’s.

“Just— I don’t really care where we get married, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” Kelly raises an amused brow at her.

“Mm-hm. So long as you’re the one walking down the aisle.”

Alex presses their lips together, breathes Kelly in deep and for the first time that night, she feels that the future isn’t so scary, even though there is still a very large possibility that she might trip over a tree root on her wedding day.

Somebody interrupts their kiss.

“She’s only saying that ‘cos she lost.”

“Shut up, Luthor.”

****

“Text me when you get home!”

Lena hears Kara call loudly after her sister, before closing the door. Game Night has officially ended and as usual she’s still here. She’ll always be here, she thinks for a brief moment. The thought holding more depth than it should.

Kara didn’t even question her when everybody began filing out and Lena just started picking up the discarded dirty plates and walking them to the sink. They’re well past the point of asking each other if the other would stay over.

It was already some unspoken rule.

Already well past the point of Lena wanting to ask Kara what the hell it is they’re doing.

She’s bent over the sink, scrubbing—Kara doesn’t own a dishwasher for the sole reason that she finds doing the dishes therapeutic—when Lena takes a glance over her shoulder.

Kara is sitting on a high stool near the counter, casually flicking through her phone. It was Lena’s turn to do the dishes tonight. Once upon a time her doing the dishes would have resulted in a fight. “I can superspeed the dishes. Why would you even want to do them?” A statement that would be met with an eye roll.

Kara has learned not to fight her on it again, after around the 7th time that Lena had stubbornly insisted and Supergirl got doused with dishwashing liquid.

And now, it’s become some sort of routine, Kara does the dishes after lunch and Lena does the dishes after dinner. Oh, how the paparazzi would kill for this—Lena Luthor Knows What A Sponge Is?

“Is it true when you told Alex you’re never going to get married?”

Kara decides to break their quiet.

“Yeah, pretty certain about that one, why?” Lena turns around, cocks a curious brow. If she’s being honest she’s beyond certain that she’s not going to get married. She always jokes about how she’s married to L-Corp but it isn’t till now that she realizes how true that is, and...how lonely.

“I don’t know,” Kara murmurs, not meeting Lena’s eyes. “I just like the idea of you getting married, I guess.”

“What?” Lena chuckles at that; genuinely confused but still curious.

“Well, I mean—” Kara wobbles through her words.

“I guess, I just— I like the idea of you walking down the aisle...in a white dress,” Kara muses.

Then, “Or a suit!!” she quickly amends. “If you wanna wear a suit, that is. That can totally be arranged, you know?” Kara waves her hand around and it’s like now that she’s started, she can’t stop.

And Lena’s just standing there, water still dripping from her elbow, unsure of how to feel about Kara imagining her getting married. Quite an incredulous scene isn’t it? Her getting married? What a crazy thing to say, an even crazier scenario to imagine!

She snaps out of it, realizing Kara’s still rambling.

“I have no objections whatsoever with that, if you wanna wear a suit. And yeah, you know? I just— I like that idea. I like the idea of you dancing to your wedding song. The idea of you exchanging your vows, the idea of you-”

“Kara,” Lena decides to put a stop to it, since it’s clearly evident Kara won’t be stopping any time soon. And Lena's feeling way too many things that she doesn’t want to feel at the moment. She’s sure that she’s going to feel more, if she doesn’t put a stop to it herself.

“I’m well aware that it’s the best friend’s job to help with the bride’s wedding,” She says, “but, darling don’t you think you’re putting just a bit too much effort into this? Certainly seems like you’ve thought about it a lot.”

At that, Kara’s cheeks turn a light pink, squirming sheepishly under Lena’s questioning gaze.

Shouldn’t Kara be thinking about her own wedding? How beautiful she would look walking down the aisle. How her blonde hair would look so nicely with her dress. How happy she would finally be after finding someone she could share her life with. Not that Lena's been thinking about those kinds of things. No, of course not. That’d be hypocritical of her at this point. Why would she even— Why were they even talking about this again???

Lena tries to rein in it, tries to focus on Kara again; hands finally finding a dry towel, hesitantly walking into Kara’s space to hear the blonde more clearly.

“Well, I mean- Like I said, I do really like the idea of you getting married,” Kara repeats herself slowly.

And before Lena can come any closer, “Like the idea of you getting married…to me. More specifically,” Kara adds more quietly.

“What?”

Lena stands frozen.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard y- Kara, did you just?”

Lena’s heart is pounding away in her chest. Did she hear her right? Did Kara really just—

Lena’s a step away from her and Kara uses this to her advantage. She pulls Lena closer, tugging at her wrist, the towel dropping from Lena’s hands. Kara summons enough willpower to stare into Lena’s eyes.

“I like the idea of you getting married to me, Lena Luthor.”

“Kara, I’m sorry- What?” Lena jerks away from her, the words finally landing.

“Is that a no?”

Kara lets her go. She can’t focus on Lena’s heartbeat to assess the situation more. Kara’s own heart is betraying her, drumming so loudly in her ears.

“Uh- no, that's definitely not a no?” says Lena hesitantly, eyes wide, breathing nervously. She turns away from Kara for a minute to take a breath, hands fidgeting about.

She whirls around again to face, mutters, “You do realize marriages are for people who are—”

She pauses.

How do you exactly phrase that wedding proposals are for people who are actually in some kind of romantic relationship? And not for people who casually stay over every goddamn Thursday without fail?And okay, maybe sometimes, in a much different reality, would willingly commit fratricide to save the other? And in an also much different reality, willingly expose a secret identity to save the other?

Lena can’t find the right words.

“Oh, I don’t know, Kara,” Lena scoffs, shaking her head disbelievingly. “Marriage is for people who are actually dating each other.”

Kara takes her sarcasm as a good sign and pulls her in again.

“Well,” Kara begins. She can hear Lena’s heart thumping erratically, now that Kara’s gotten her bearings.

“We can always have our first date after the wedding, right?”

Aren’t they well past the point of dating anyway?

She’s got Lena standing between her legs now, her hands wrapping around her waist.

“First date and honeymoon all in one. That sounds great, doesn’t it? I can fly you wherever you want, Paris, Maldives, hell I even have a Fortress in the Arctic, if you’re into that.”

Lena stares at her, blinks once, twice; shakes her head and lets out a noise between a laugh and a scoff.

“Kara Zor-El, you are one ridiculous woman,” She breathes, putting a hand on Kara’s cheek. Because what else is there to say? This whole conversation really is ridiculous. But at the same time Lena feels like she’s floating? Like this may be the best moment of her life, and of course, it’s going to be ridiculous. This is Kara she’s dealing with, after all.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do if Kara reveals this to be just some sort of joke.

But the way her blue eyes are piercing through Lena’s, so earnest and so warm, argues otherwise.

“So, what do you say? Wanna get married?”

“Are you serious right now?” Lena asks, still unbelieving. This is beyond crazy. They’ve fought aliens and monsters and traveled through time but this? This is just beyond crazy.

“Lena, do I look like I’m joking? And besides, you’d already offered to pay for two weddings, why not pay for our two weddings, instead?”

She shakes her head again, let’s herself fall closer to Kara, lets out a laugh against her neck.

“Mm. You want a Kryptonian ceremony too?”

“Yeah.” Kara’s voice turns shy. “If that’s alright by you.”

“Of course, that’s alright by me. I’d be honored.”

Her heart feels more than full at the thought of Kara wanting to share that part of her with Lena. She’s always had some doubts whenever the topic of Kara’s Kryptonian heritage arises, always half-afraid she’s overstepped on something that isn’t hers.

But looks like there was nothing to fear all along.

“So, we’re getting married, huh?” Kara wiggles her brows, her face breaking into a wide grin.

“Yes. Mm-hm,” Lena hums against her. “I do. I’d marry you. Let’s get married.”

“Seal it with a kiss?"

****

“Hi.”

Lena blearily opens her eyes, follows the soft voice, her bare back being caressed by the sun filtering through Kara’s curtains.

“Hi,” She whispers back. All this feels much too like a fever dream. She’s half-tempted to pinch herself just to check. She’s woken up beside Kara a million times before but she’ll never get used to the sight of soft golden hair and sleepy blue eyes.

Kara gives her a soft peck and the feel of her lips sends Lena reeling.

The previous night was a whirlwind in her mind’s eye. The moment Lena murmured her 'Yes, please.', Kara kissed her passionately. Once they broke away, Kara had zipped around the apartment, Lena too dazed to even ask what it was Kara was looking for.

She watched as Kara tore off a keychain from one of her bags, curled the keyring to fit Lena’s finger and whispered, “This’ll do. For now.”

Kara had kissed her knuckles reverently, her lips making Lena’s blood sing in her veins. The feel of mangled metal fitted just for her left hand is an imprint on her soul. A promise of more to come.

They didn’t make it out of the kitchen the first time. Kara had lifted her by the waist and set her down on the kitchen counter. Which was a good thing, because Lena couldn’t feel her legs after.

They didn’t make it to the bedroom the second time either. She had tackled Kara onto the couch, pinning her wrists together, licking at the shell of Kara’s ear. “My turn now,” Lena had whispered. The way Kara shivered underneath her was enough of a reward. How long had they been waiting for this?

Flashes of last night had her hips bucking slightly unto Kara’s leg sandwiched between her own, but before it could escalate further...

“I have exciting news to share,” Kara tells her.

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Kara hums, now nosing at Lena’s hair.

“What is it?” Lena asks.

“I’m getting married.”

“Oh you are?” Lena plays along.

“Yes. I’m getting married to my best friend,” whispers Kara, almost conspiratorially. “How cool is that?”

Kara looks giddy with excitement and Lena knows she’s mirroring that exact same expression right now.

“Mm. Very cool, darling.”

Kara giggles and they trade more lazy kisses before Lena breaks away to breathe.

“Quite a coincidence though,” Lena husks out against Kara’s lips.

“Oh really? Why?” Kara asks, tries to keep a serious neutral face despite her nose scrunching up in that cute smile that Lena can’t resist

“I’m also getting married,” Lena confides, “To my best friend," she adds, eyes flashing. "Isn’t that great?”

“Very great.” Kara nods slowly, blonde hair falling into her face, a hand running through dark tresses.

“I love you,” Lena whispers, her lips brushing Kara’s softly.

“I love you, too.” Kara kisses her harder then, her hands lazily wandering along Lena’s skin.

They lie there quietly for a few moments, basking in the morning glow and then, “Alex will kill us.”

Lena snorts, twists in the sheets and says, “I think your sister is too busy planning her wedding to even think about plotting our murder.”

read follow-up here.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ruined, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Why is there a mostly shirtless man in your bedroom and why is it Kim Namjoon's, your roommate's, fault? All you want to do is play League of Legends, not be visually attacked by ridiculously attractive Jeon Jungkook as his six friends perform living room karaoke at the top of their very drunk lungs.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; classic Namjoon ripping clothes; you don't have to know how to play LoL, I explain most of it; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, begging, scratching / marking, nipple play, edging / orgasm denial, handjob, (unintentional?) voyeurism, little bit of cum-eating, choking, cowgirl, cock warming); non-idol!BTS – purple-haired, kind-of-a-brat, sub!Jungkook x gamer, noona, dom!reader, ft OT6 being chaotic in the background XD

@yn-the-reader linked me in this and I was already writing about him. a prophet, maybe? XD

--

“WHY ARE YOU SHIRTLESS?”

You died.

Not literally, but also literally.

“Fuck!”

Now you had thirty-seven seconds of gray screen to figure out why the fuck Jeon Jungkook had busted into your bedroom on this cheerful night with his black dress shirt three-quarters of the way unbuttoned, revealing most of his – oh, sweet Satan, very muscular – pecs and the upper half of his abs. He was holding something in his hands, looking helpless and sad, while you were panic buying Liandry's Anguish and experiencing a special form of anguish yourself.

“Noona, um–”

That’s right, because you were in the middle of a League of Legends game, playing Cassiopeia, the Serpent’s Embrace, also known as half-snake lady or the lamia of the champion roster or a mean version of Monster Musume’s Miia (if you know, you know, and if you don’t, be glad you don’t). Your roommate was having friends over after going drinking. All this was fine and dandy with you, because you were going to spend all night wearing headphones and playing League of Legends, therefore ignoring the outside world, until the outside world came to bother you in the form of Kim Namjoon’s – your roommate’s – mostly shirtless friend Jeon Jungkook.

He wasn’t mostly shirtless most of the time, only right now.

“Noona, Namjoon-hyung ripped my shirt…” Jungkook whimpered hesitantly, chewing on his lip. He looked awkward and distraught despite his long dark purple hair giving him a rather fierce, bad-boy look.

Namjoon was a great roommate. He was smart, conversational, and insightful. A chat with him usually led to an enriching, open-minded perspective. He was relatively clean, considerate, communicative, nonjudgmental, fun to be around, and only set the kitchen on fire twice.

The second time was your fault.

You shouldn’t have let Namjoon in the kitchen the second time.

Also, Namjoon with his friends was a wildly chaotic time. All of his friends, especially drunk, were fucking nuts. Normally, they were probably relatively calm people (maybe not Kim Seokjin or Jung Hoseok, they were very excitable), but together they were a mess. You often wondered how they could function as a group.

Currently, however, you were trying to collect your brain cells as you had mere seconds before respawning onto the platform and were forced to play again. Timing in League of Legends was very important. Seconds can mess up wave management of minions and wave mismanagement can lead to game losses if you weren’t careful. The nuances of the game were often ignored by casual players.

You were, in short, a nerd about it.

“Fucking s-shit, what h-happened?” you sputtered out, turning back to your screen, unable to look at mostly shirtless Jungkook because he was MOSTLY SHIRTLESS. Honestly, he had quite nice pecs, and you should not be thinking about that, but it was incredibly distracting, just like how it used to be distracting when Namjoon was shirtless, but several years of living with him made you accustomed to his impressive pectoral muscles, to the point where you could joke about them with him.

But this was not Namjoon – this was his younger friend Jungkook and you had no idea Jungkook was ripped, mostly because you didn’t pay attention to Namjoon’s friends.

There were too many of them and you were too introverted for that.

“I don’t know, he just grabbed my shirt and it ripped and I managed to find all the buttons, but, but…”

Cassiopeia respawned on the platform and you couldn’t ignore the snake lady any longer. You had to play the game because four random people on your team were counting on you and you couldn’t exactly type, sorry, there’s a hot man in my room with his shirt practically off and I don’t know what to do with my life, so you had to suck it up and play the damn game.

Right-clicking and keeping your eyes only on your computer monitor.

Half-listening to that trembling, silvery voice coming up behind you, making your hairs stand on end even though all he was doing was dumping the tiny buttons on your desk.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself.

“Can you repair it? Please? My mom bought me this shirt and Namjoon-hyung said you can sew, so maybe you can sew them back on? Please?”

“Yes, Jungkook, I can, just not right now, I’m in the middle of a game,” you rambled, suddenly trading damage with the enemy Viktor, trying to avoid the laser from the Machine Herald, swearing under your breath as you stutter-stepped and stunned him, poisoning him quickly enough with your abilities to avoid dying. “I will help you, I just – fucking shit, get the fuck away from me Udyr, fuck!”

“Wow, you curse a lot, noona. It’s kind of funny.”

“I – fuck– I mean, sometimes, and what are you guys doing out there? It sounds like a deranged cabaret club,” you remarked, ticking your head towards the direction of your bedroom door.

“Karaoke!” Jungkook replied brightly, still standing behind you, why was he standing behind you, it was freaking you out a little, but Ocean Dragon was being taken and a team fight was about to happen, so you had to ignore it and support your teammates in chasing down the enemy support.

Seokjin hit a high note that was so shrill that you heard it through your headphones.

“… Wow, he’s got some lungs on him.”

“Do you wanna join us, noona?”

“I can’t sing.”

“Neither can we.”

“Pretty sure all of you can sing better than I can, even Yoongi and Namjoon. I’m fucking terrible.”

“I’m not that good.”

You barely survived with thirty hit points after that debacle of a team fight, but your team had the dragon and you all were slowly on your way to victory. You pressed the ‘B’ key to return to base, but kept your eyes on the screen, lest Udyr, the Spirit Walker and serial bear stun-slapping enemy jungler, ran your ass down and killed you.

“Jungkook, your voice is absolutely heavenly. Fucking beautiful. I’m sure every human being on Earth would want to be serenaded by you.”

Silence that you didn’t notice was awkward for him because you were too busy letting out a sigh of relief and building your next item, typing quickly to your teammates. You all were about to set up for vision around Baron Nashor, a large purple worm-dragon monster that when killed provided a significant, sometimes game-ending buff.

“R… really?”

“Yeah, and you’re handsome, gorgeous, and hot as hell too, so the whole damn package,” you responded absentmindedly, realizing the enemy were trying to split-push and trade objectives so you sent some pings to your teammate to take care of that as you accompanied the main group to help clear waves of minions.

Heat.

You heard him shift beside you and suddenly his face was next to yours, watching your screen closely.

Side-step, cast your ultimate, cast your Miasma ability to ground the enemies and prevent them from dashing away, switching between auto-attacking and piercing them with Twin Fang, all in the span of a mild freak-out because why was Jungkook so FUCKING close?

“Wow, you’re so good at League.”

“I’m Diamond rank, so not that good, but definitely better than all seven of you combined.”

“Haha, true, we’re all pretty bad,” Jungkook laughed next to your ear and, oh, shit, is warm breath feathered on your neck, why weren’t you wearing a turtleneck or something and not your self-cropped oversized band t-shirt and slinky black leggings, why weren’t you cocooned in layers of clothes, because you were quickly highly aware of how attractive Namjoon’s friends were.

To top it all off, you were in the middle of a game, so you just had to tolerate it and stay calm for the sake of your teammates and your elo.

“Maybe you could teach us and we’ll teach you something in return.”

“You guys don’t even listen to each other, why would I assume you all would listen to me?”

“I’d listen to you, noona.”

Now your team was doing the Baron dance, skirting in and out of vision, daring the other team to make a move, daring each other to make a mistake so the other could capitalize on it, slowly, slowly, watch the waves, watch the minimap. Careful. You could control the situation if you were calm and not too trigger-happy. Tension in your fingers and tension in your neck because your roommate’s friend was right next to your head, observing your every move.

His violet hair brushed your shoulder.

Soft, delicate strands against your skin.

“You’re more experienced, so you would know what to do.”

Your support snap-engaged a fight and you were immediately in the zone, right clicking rapidly, cycling through your abilities, keeping track of the opponents’ spells, determined not to let any of them get away, following your teammate’s calls and not hesitating, because hesitation as death and loss, and you were so close to winning you could taste it, going after it with passionate vigor and a slow-forming grin, seeing and hearing the in-game announcer declaring, QUADRA KILL.

You didn’t kill all five of them because someone took the pentakill from you.

You might have cared about that except your ear exploded into clapping as Jungkook excitedly applauded for you, cheering you on, reminding you that a mostly shirtless man was standing right next to you.

Thanks, Namjoon, you thought sarcastically.

“Wow, you played that so well, dodging the Viktor ult and stunning three people like that–”

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliments, busying yourself with your team killing Baron. You didn’t usually have someone commenting on your games. Your eyes flickered to the small buttons on your desk.

Especially not a mostly shirtless guy.

Mostly shirtless hot guy.

Back to screen, seeing your jungler’s typed instructions, suggesting you all to destroy as many structures as you could and then prepare for the next fight for Ocean Dragon Soul and – oh? Your eyebrows raised as the screen abruptly jerked to the enemy base, the nexus inside exploding into shiny gem-like fragments that became the VICTORY banner.

“They surrendered?” you uttered with surprise, clicking on the CONTINUE button. “Why?”

Your eyes flickered to the kill score.

“Oh, thirty-two to nine… maybe that’s why….”

Your team had the nine deaths and the opponent team had thirty-two so, well, maybe that’s why they surrendered the game.

“Aw, that’s no fun,” Jungkook pouted as you clicked on the damage screen. Second most damage. Okay, you could take that. You were a little distracted.

“So, about your problem–”

You spun around to, ack, realize that, yes, Jungkook’s shirt was still flapped wide open to expose his chest like an unwrapped piece of caramel candy. He seemed to realize it too, making a surprised face and yanking the sides closed, as if you hadn’t gotten a damn eyeful already.

“I can resew the buttons back on, but you should borrow a shirt from Namjoon in the meantime,” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “Because I, ah, can’t really sew it when you’re still wearing the shirt.”

“Oh… Oh, right, yeah.”

Then he started yanking his shirt out of his slacks.

UMMMMMMM.

Usually, you didn’t care about this stuff. Men were men. They had chests. But you had things you liked too. Just like how men like tits and ass, you liked well-built pecs and forearms. Actually, you appreciated a nice ass and thighs too. And cute faces. Fuck, you loved a cute face.

“Uh, Jungkook…”

He looked up, questioningly. Big round brown eyes, his violet bangs framing his chiseled jaw, parted pink lips, the small mole underneath his lower lip looking so, so kissable, quivering slightly.

Fuck, Jungkook had a cute face.

His shirt was very open.

Fuck, his lightly tanned skin.

He was hesitating around a button, his deft fingers flexed, ink black tattoos standing out on his knuckles and the back of his hand. Your legs were slightly spread, thighs flush to your gaming chair. Half a second and Jungkook’s eyes flickered back up to your face, pretending he hadn’t been looking.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Are you really just gonna strip in my room and walk out asking Namjoon for a shirt and hope none of the six guys think anything about it?”

His eyes shifted around your room. Bed with black sheets and black velvet duvet. Television with your gaming consoles. Your collection of character figurines from various games. Your black denim jacket hanging on a hook, covered in monotone patches that you had sewn yourself, mostly occult-themed, skeletons, skulls, cats, ghosts, potions, eyeballs, that kind of thing. Back to your desk.

Your legs.

Really staring at your thighs, hips, and crotch.

Up your torso, your hands, your exposed collarbones.

Your face.

Guarding his expression, testing the waters.

“Maybe,” Jungkook said slowly. His eyes darted away and back, teeth catching his lower lip. “I really am hoping you can fix my shirt.”

You watched his face carefully, the flare of darkness in those brown orbs, a hint of naughtiness, dancing with danger. Jungkook had a mischievous streak. You could tell by the way he interacted with his hyungs, listening but talking back, helping them with things but not without a roll of his eyes or a smart remark added, probably because all his friends were older and he was the youngest. He knew he could get away with it.

In short.

Brat.

“What would you like in return, noona?” Jungkook purred, smile dancing on his lips.

Honorifics were supposed to honor you. Show a sign of respect and all that shit.

All I wanted to do was play video games, you grumbled internally. Not suddenly have a thirst fest for one of Namjoon’s best friends. You narrowed your eyes a little, seeing the smirk on that perfectly shaped mouth. He’s not stopping either.

Outside your room, something fell with a loud crash. Probably Namjoon by the depth of that startled yelp. Everyone else started laughing and a very loud, cheerful melody was blasting from the living room television. Nobody was coming to investigate you and Jungkook.

Yet.

“Turn around and ask for a shirt,” you sighed, waving a hand. “Then take off your shirt in the bathroom and then, only then, do you come back and give me your dress shirt.”

You saw Jungkook frown, not expecting that as your answer.

“Oh. Okay.”

He seemed disappointed, lowering his hands.

The silky fabric of the dress shirt slid off his right shoulder, partly revealing his tattoo sleeve and fully revealing his right collarbone and shoulder.

You sucked in a breath, eyes flickering to it. Then his face. Then back to his body. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Jungkook jumped, startled by the fallen fabric and reached over to grab the fallen collar. Your hand moved faster than you had time to think. You had good reaction time. It was the gaming obsession.

You slapped his hand down.

Jungkook squeaked, head snapping up, purple hair floating around him, gold chain on his neck glittering as he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. Strangely, his chain resembled your sterling silver choker that you were wearing right now, except you also wore another necklace with a circular white gold pendant with your zodiac sign.

Not that anyone was ever close enough to inspect it.

“N-Noona?” he breathed, sounding strangely winded.

Shit.

You hadn’t meant to do that. Your body reacted faster than your head.

Shit.

Fuck, he had a nice body. His pecs. Even had a nice dark nipple – well, he probably had two, but you could only see one at the moment – and it all trimmed down to a slim waist and shapely hips. You could tell because of his tailored black slacks. He had been wearing a blazer earlier in the evening too. It was probably on a chair somewhere in the apartment.

Shit.

What did Jungkook need to look so damn good for?

“Where did you guys go to be dressed like that?”

Yes, you were really just going to interrogate him with his shirt dangling off like that.

Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, the tiny mole underneath bouncing up and down as he spoke. “We went to a fancy hotel rooftop bar to celebrate Yoongi-hyung’s award that he won at the music show for producing that song–”

“Ah, right, Namjoon mentioned that earlier today.” Dress code must have been black tie.

Those dark brown eyes found yours, observing you carefully.

“I would have liked to see you there, noona.”

You stopped staring at the tattoos on his bicep and made eye contact. Fuck. Those eyes. Sparkling with deviousness. Trying to see how far he could push your buttons.

“I wonder what kind of dress would you have worn?” he murmured, musing to himself. “I bet you would have looked hotter than any girl there.” Jungkook smiled, playful and boyish. He wasn’t being sleazy about it. Every word was light and honest. “A tight little black dress? Maybe bright red? Short, because you have incredible legs. It would be a crime not to show them off.” He was only complimenting you. His tone wasn’t trying to be suggestive.

Yet.

You didn’t close your legs. You had nothing to be shy about.

Instead, you leaned back in your gaming chair as if it was a throne, resting your left elbow on the armrest and your chin on two fingers, thighs wide open, and your other hand in between them, fingers curled inward to your inner thigh.

Jungkook’s pink lips curved ever higher, ever more roguish.

“Whatever you would have chosen, you would have looked so, so sexy.”

You ticked your head.

“I know.”

Because you did.

Look here, Jeon Jungkook, I’m here minding my own damn business and you’re here inserting yourself into my life, so if you can’t handle me knowing my self-worth, you can fuck right off.

He reached up and tucked a bit of his purple hair behind his right ear, grinning at you.

“You sure you don’t want anything from me?” he asked, a slight flicker of pink tongue between white teeth. “I can give first and then you can decide whether or not you want to help.”

Honestly, those sultry eyes could stop a heart.

You removed your hand from your chin, tapping the air with those two fingers in a dismissive manner.

“Hm.”

Outside, Kim Taehyung and Jung Hoseok were singing a soulful duet and Park Jimin was hooting at inappropriate moments to ruin the atmosphere as much as possible. That raspy, breathless laugh was Min Yoongi, who was probably doubled over on the floor in his expensive suit. Classic genius music producer of the year behavior right there.

Jungkook tucked his hands in his pockets, shirt sleeve falling down, revealing his blacked-out inner elbow. Mountains with a dark sky. It must have hurt, doing something like that. Still, he did it. For aesthetics?

You heard the smirk rather than seeing it, mostly because you were looking at his body.

“I would look so damn good on you, noona.”

Alright.

You closed your eyes slowly and reopened them to look directly into those dangerous, dangerous eyes.

“Lock the door.”

Not really an order. More of a statement. Jungkook could do it or not, you knew. He couldn’t be coerced to do anything. He did things because he wanted to do them. He was nice because he wanted to be nice. He was childish when he wanted to be childish.

And.

Jungkook was obedient when he wanted to be obedient.

He turned around, went to your bedroom door, and locked it.

Well then.

He came back and stood in front of you. A little closer now.

You cocked an eyebrow. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

Jungkook smiled down at you. “I’m sure they will.”

You frowned, lowering your hand to tap the end of the armrest. “They’re going to think I started this.”

“You kind of did.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply. He grinned, taking a step closer.

“Because it’s not my fault you look so good,” Jungkook breathed, voice deepening, leaning down, your expression unchanging, not pulling back but not encouraging anything either. “Not my fault your body is hotter than a summer. Not my fault your confidence is the biggest turn-on I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your thighs were still as open as his shirt.

Jungkook put his knee in between them.

His dress shirt was basically almost completely off his body now, falling off the left shoulder too and dangling off his forearms, exposed collarbones and shoulders, tan skin taut over muscle. A delicious body line, so fucking close to you that you could feel the heat. You still didn’t do anything. You weren’t going to do anything. You didn’t prompt this. You were simply minding your own business commanding a snake lady to victory, not expecting to get seduced by a mischievous bunny-like smile and a tiny black mole under a cute pout.

“I can’t help myself around you.”

You usually didn’t say more to Namjoon’s friends than a mere hello, not wanting to bother them with your presence. They were all men after all. You expected them to want bro time or whatever. Also, you were too busy being obsessed with men that didn’t exist in real life to pursue men that did exist in real life.

At least League of Legends had 3D models so no one could say you lived only the 2D lifestyle.

That didn’t mean that you didn’t partake when the dinner laid themselves out to be eaten. They often had to, because you wouldn’t pay attention otherwise.

Purple hair drifted into your vision, surrounding you in a curtain of violet and dark brown eyes, warm exhale and trembling pink lips, trapping you in Jungkook’s gaze, but you refused to relent, keeping your gaze even. Steady breaths to disguise your racing heart.

You kept your hands closed to prevent him from seeing your shaking fingers.

“Every time I see you, I want you to touch me,” he whispered, trying to hide the edge of nervousness by lowering his voice, enticing you to lean in to hear him better because someone was wiping a damn window in the living room outside your door or was that Kim Seokjin laughing?

There was no difference.

Jungkook’s forehead touched yours and you stopped thinking about Seokjin.

“I just want you to feel me up, rip my clothes off, and fuck me until I can’t think straight. Use me, abuse me, wreck me, ruin me,” he shuddered, definitely thinking about it, and one blink and you spied the obvious tent in his pants.

“Maybe I’m a lazy girl,” you finally said, touching your nose to his, inhaling his breath, a little bit of alcohol, a little bit of fruitiness, and that hint of cologne, fresh, clean, and intense. Something else too. Musk, maybe his pheromones or something like that. Whatever it was smelled fucking delicious, just like you. What did your perfume smell like? Spiced fire blended with addictive sweetness.

You shrugged casually.

“Maybe I’m a pillow princess.”

Jungkook chuckled.

“I can tell you’re not.”

You had to smirk.

Of course, you weren’t.

You closed your thighs around his knee and squeezed, raising to your tiptoes. He gasped softly, shivering at the simple touch of your soft thighs pressing around his muscular leg. It was disturbingly noisy out there, but here it was silent, pared down to your breathing and Jungkook’s breathing, mixing together, blazingly hot, closer, closer, doing the careful dance, daring each other to make the move that was so obviously going to happen.

“What are you gonna say when they ask you where you’ve been all this time?” you whispered, avoiding letting your lips brush against his.

“The truth.”

His tongue flickered out and barely touched your lips.

You didn’t make a sound.

Jungkook moaned, the sound drifting into your throat, and you could taste his desire.

“I tripped and fell into your lap.”

Your lips curved into a smirk.

He kissed you.

His hands on the armrests of your rolling chair, pushing it back into your desk, pressing his lips to yours, inhaling deeply, wanting to breathe you, wanting to taste you, wanting you, shivering as you finally touched him with your hands, but this was you, and your first touch wasn’t going to be wasted on a conventional innocent touch.

Your fingers closed in on his rock-hard erection and stroked him through his pants.

Jungkook moaned your name right in your mouth, eyes half-lidded, his violet hair encircling your face as he rolled his hips into your palm, whining deep in his chest.

“Fuck, yes, noona, play with me…”

You flitted your tongue between his lips and he chased it, begging you for more, and yet you continued to tease, light flicks between those soft pillows, nipping at them, even pushing up his lower lip so the tip of your tongue could draw a small heart around that mole, kissing it, so gentle, so delicate. His entire body shook, your hand palming his hardness through his pants, nails scraping against his balls, caressing all of it, acting like you owned it. Jungkook was certainly humping your hand like you did.

“You only want me because I didn’t want you,” you taunted, not bothering to hide your smirk and your slight disapproval.

“That’s not true,” he panted, attempting to get you to touch his chest, pushing you back into your chair, and yet you kept the fingers of your free hand on the cusp of what he wanted, heat close but no contact, causing him to whimper every time your fingernails barely nicked his skin. “I want you because you’re pretty, gorgeous, and hot as hell.”

Hm, that sounded familiar.

“I want you because I love watching you play your favorite games,” he chuckled, kissing the side of your lips, nose to nose. “I want you because I love that little smirk you make when you do something good. I want you because I love that aggressiveness that comes out and how you seem to lose your filter. Shit, it’s so fucking hot when you’re focused. Makes me wanna see your face when you’re pinning me down and having your way with me. Makes me want to obey you and disobey you at the same time, because I want you to reward me and punish me, I just can’t decide, fuck, you make life so hard for me.”

He punctuated hard by violently humping your hand, rattling your desk with his force.

Outside you heard Namjoon yelling “CANNONBALL” and throwing himself onto that giant gray furry beanbag you paid far too much for about six months ago. It was now a household party favorite, due to its massive size and fluffiness. At the moment, it sounded like a pile of six guys in semi-formal clothing was beginning and, instead of watching this heap of hot dudes being constructed, you were making out with the seventh guy’s face and grabbing his dick.

You’ll take this trade.

You felt Jungkook’s hands groping around, undoing his pants and the zipper, trying to get you to touch more, more, desperate for you to be all over him.

“P-Please… please, I don’t know when they’re going to notice…” he pleaded. “You’re so close, so close, ah, I can’t think, please…”

“Shh…” you soothed. “The door is locked.”

Your fingertips finally touched his chest, not disappointed in the slightest when you touched those delicious-looking pecs. They felt just as nice under your palm, his pounding heart and wanton moan vibrating up your arm.

“Aren’t you a needy little brat trying to distract me from my games, hm?”

Your fingertips hooked over the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“You’re going to have to face the consequences, Jungkook.”

You said his name like a delicious sweet about to be eaten, growl in your throat as you yanked down his underwear, capturing his lips, robbing him of his cries as you clawed down his chest, grasping his cock and pumping him, long, complete strokes from base to tip, curling your fingers around his balls, juggling them with your fingers teasingly as he squirmed and groaned. Your free arm shot around his back, digging your nails into his spine, not letting him get away. His black dress shirt was falling, falling to your floor, his bluish-purple hair in your face and his strong hands on your shoulders, sliding down, kneading your breasts through your clothes, whining that you were still wearing a bra – of course, you were, six dudes were coming over and they didn’t need to see your magnificent nipples on display, although clearly one of them wanted to see – and he was trying to get to the hem of your shirt, but you smacked his hands away, building the pressure and speed, pre-cum leaking between your fingers and adding slickness to lessen the dry friction.

Fuck, you could smell him and he smelled so fucking good.

“Noona, please…” Jungkook gasped, hands on the armrests of your chair, tipping his head back at the pleasure, pants at his fucking knees, chest, crotch, thighs on display. “This is… embarrassing…”

He meant him being mostly naked and you being dressed.

You shrugged, acting indifferent. “Not for me.”

He whimpered at your words, so noticeably dominant despite not using an aggressive or commanding tone. Either that or he was very invested in you jacking him off. You suspected it was a combination of the two, considering how eagerly his cock twitched when you answered.

“What should I do, Jungkook? Should I let you cum? Or should I play with you and stop, make you put your clothes back on and walk out there, desperate to be finished off?” you mused aloud, running your nails up his back, not that hard, but he leaned back into it so they sank into him, wordlessly begging you to do it harder, so you did, setting your jaw and scratching at his back, forcing him back into position. His cock throbbed in your hand, pulsating wildly.

Hm, he really loved it, huh.

“P-Please… wanna cum, please don’t be mean…” he gasped, thrusting his hips into your punishingly tight grip.

“Hm, why does it matter? You’ll just run to the bathroom and finish yourself off anyway, right?”

“Want you to do it, please,” he begged, his long hair curling around his jaw, dark purple locks framing the sharpness, lashes fluttering as you rubbed your thumb against the underside of the head, smearing pre-cum over the slit. “Your hand feels so good, so fucking good, better than I thought, please, I need you to touch me or I can’t get off, please…”

You removed your hand.

Jungkook cried out in denied despair, pitch hiking, the sinful sound clearly audible despite the debaucherously loud ruckus outside your bedroom door that included not one, but two people howling like werewolves for some unknown reason. At this point, you were mildly curious.

But you had a job to do.

He grabbed the front of your shirt, almost sobbing with need. Somehow his violet hair was a mess and you hadn’t even touched it. It cascaded over one of his eyes, an indigo curtain, the other chocolate orb shaking and pupil dilated, black prominent in the dark brown.

“Please don’t–”

You shoved two fingers from your right hand into that pleading mouth and raised your left.

He choked, gagging a little on your fingers.

You stuck your tongue out and licked your palm, slathering it with a thick layer of slick saliva.

Jungkook’s eyes widened at the dirty action and then rolled back into his head as you wrapped your hand around his aching cock once more, now covered in saliva, swiftly and fervently jacking him off, hard, fast, tight, nearly choking his cock, pushing his chin up and his chest to your hungry mouth, tongue and teeth and lips, all over those dark nipples hardening under your persistent touch, heedless to his rising moans, so very obvious now what was happening in your bedroom.

It didn’t bother you at all. Jungkook walked in here and asked you to wreck and ruin him, so you did exactly what he asked you to do, leaving harsh bite marks and slippery saliva all over his soft skin, your perfume rubbing off onto his body, coating his chest in your scent and his pulsating thick length with your spit, and he was so fucking hard that you were impressed, feeling his mouth suck on your fingers desperately and wetly, your name a messy garble above your head.

“Fuck, yes, umpf, oh fuck, I’m so close, so close, gonna cum, goona cum for you…!”

“Jungkook?”

You had no idea who called his name through your door, because the next second Jungkook was pitching forward and shooting his cum up your thigh and chest, thick white strings painting your leggings and band t-shirt, soaking into the fabric and creating a sticky mess on your skin, your head lifting in response to his movement to avoid knocking into him, your fingers sliding out of his lips, strings of saliva snapping as they left, and suddenly Jungkook’s face was in your face, his lips on yours in a passionate kiss, rutting into your hand to increase the sensitivity, shoulders and hips flinching, whimpering gratitude and ecstasy into your mouth, his hands in your hair, kissing you deeper, more ravenously, ignoring the questioning voices, lost in the pleasure of his orgasm.

You heard Namjoon say outside your door, “I think he made his move.”

You asshole, at least warn me, you thought irritably.

“You’re so good… so good, exactly what I need… I knew you would be… fuck…”

You thrust your tongue into his lips once and backed off, chuckling as he whined for more.

“Go ask for a shirt.”

Jungkook shook his head rapidly, violet hair flying everywhere. Your hand was still wrapped around his semi-hard cock, his cum dripping onto your wrist. His ears were turning red.

“I can’t… They know something is going on…” he mumbled, scooting closer to you, as if your body heat could somehow mask the fact that you just jacked him off with six of his friends standing outside your bedroom door whispering.

“Maybe you wanted them to know.”

You squeezed his ass and he trembled, clutching your shoulders.

“Easy way to tell them that you want to be owned by me, right?”

You could tell by the way his eyes were darting around rapidly that the thought crossed his mind more than once.

“Jungkook.”

You said it loud enough for a keen ear to hear it if they were really eavesdropping. You looked up at Jungkook, his eyes immediately fixating on yours because of your tone.

In control, not to be questioned.

“Get on your knees.”

Dead silence outside your bedroom.

“B… but…”

His cheeks flushed pink.

You took his chin and pulled him down to your face, murmuring to that mole under his lips, pecking it daintily, almost innocently, his wispy moan drifting over your nose. Your words were barely above a whisper, only for him.

“You made a mess. Clean it up.”

You stroked Jungkook’s chin with your thumb, your other hand tucking his long hair behind his ear.

“I’ll let you sleep in my bed tonight, so be a good boy for me right now and I’ll let you be a bad boy in bed.”

His head tilted and Jungkook whispered your name into your mouth, drenched with desire.

You smirked, stroking his jaw fondly.

He got to his knees, in between your open thighs, leaning forward, subservient eyes on your face as his pink tongue extended, licking at his own cum staining your clothes, eyes closing at your hand on the top of his head, not directing the movement, but reminding him who was in charge here, reminding him with nails in his scalp that he was going to be fucked until he couldn’t think straight.

Used, abused, wrecked, ruined.

-

“I don’t wanna.”

“We both know you do.”

“But I want to fuck you,” Jungkook protested, speaking softly because everyone was sleeping, or at least it seemed that way, not that either you or Jungkook cared, because you were forcing him to his knees on your bed, pushing his torso back, nails digging into his chest, towering over him, his naked body already covered in your bites and scratches, focused on his inner thighs and chest, none on his neck because that’s where he wanted it the most.

And you knew it.

“Noona, please…”

He said please a lot for someone who did not, in fact, want to be pleased, but tortured.

You grabbed him by the chin, cocking an eyebrow.

His hands were behind him, arms shaking as they held him up, shivering delightfully under your petrifying gaze.

“Please what? Hm? Saying please when you come crawling into my room, begging for dirty things with your friends right outside, saying please when you interrupt me and distract me, jeopardizing my chances to win my game?”

You leaned in close, you knowing you were only crafting a scene, him knowing that you didn’t actually care, but Jungkook wanted to hear the words, wanted you to put that malice in your tone to caress his ears, wanted you to cannibalize his sanity and put him in a different headspace, his cock already responding to it, bobbing in the air, purple-red and achingly hard from multiple orgasms, and he still wanted more.

“Saying please so you can say please when you’re under me, helplessly begging me to let you cum?”

You could hear his whines vibrating under your fingertips, pupils blown wide, lower lip trembling, begging you already, such a needy little thing, those lovely brown eyes full of submission, muscles tense with anticipation, every passing second spiraling him into increased frustration, because instead of doing anything, you were only smirking wider and wider, pushing his head back.

“Well? Tell me if you’re a dirty boy or not. Maybe I’ll do what you want.”

His violet hair cascaded to his shoulder blades, his low moan coursing through your fingertips and the heated air of your bedroom.

“Y… Yes, I’m a d-dirty boy…”

“Noona,” you prompted.

Just because you could.

His lips curved into an open smile, two of your fingers hooked over his lower lip, fingertips rubbing his tongue. Your thumb nail pressed into his mole.

“Noona.”

You ripped the condom open with your teeth, which was not advisable unless you were the kind of person that practiced that for hours on end, spending an obscene amount of money on unused condoms to perfect your technique, because nobody wants a broken condom or lube in their teeth. Why would you want to learn such a thing? You were a stickler for details. A perfectionist in perfecting a perfect display of raw dominance.

You spat out the torn corner onto Jungkook’s chest and he whimpered, unashamedly amazed.

Your left hand removed the condom from the package and your right slid out of his mouth and encircled his neck.

You inspected the condom, lazily turning it to the correct position, fingers pressed to the sides of his neck, leaving plenty of space for his trachea between your thumb and forefinger. You didn’t bother looking at his face. Instead, you spread your legs, poised and naked over him and his throbbing cock.

Your right hand started choking him.

Your left hand started rolling the condom down his thick, hard length.

Your name leaked out of his lips in a thin gurgle, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Say please, Jungkook.”

A sharp, distinct order.

“P… Please…” he gasped out, chest shuddering.

Your hand tightened around his throat and your pussy clenched around his cock as you forced yourself down on him.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck…”

You didn’t bother asking if he liked it. His vicious fisting of your sheets and trembling body, cries and cock included, told you everything you needed to know. You only watched the color of his cheeks, knowing there were limits to how long you could choke him. Therefore there was no time to be wasted, already starting your favorite pace, rough and hard, filling yourself with that delicious cock built to take your abuse, jaw set, gripping his throat, blood pounding under your fingertips, slapping hips to crotch, heat sparking though your veins, hotter, hotter, your smirk growing more and more smug, tongue tracing your lips as you witnessed Jungkook’s descent into sin, raising his head so he could watch you bounce on his cock with hazed brown orbs, mouth open, tongue lolling out, circulation thinning, purple hair wild around that cute, distressed face.

You let up the pressure on his neck, dark snicker rumbling in your chest.

“This pussy worth it, brat?”

The rush of missing blood into his brain, the suffocating pleasure of your pulsating walls wrapped around his twitching cock, your authoritative growl and merciless words tearing through him – you saw it all taking over Jungkook, forced to respond honestly from pure instinct because there was no time to compile pretty words or a smart comeback.

“Yes, noona, yes, I love it, I love it, this brat fucking loves what you do to him…”

You immediately choked him again and slapped your pussy onto his cock like you were whipping him.

His eyes rolled back and a wild moan tore out of his chest, cut off by your hand.

The bed creaked under you, bearing the weight of your roughness.

“I know you love it,” you snarled, leaning in, fucking him into your bed with vigor, straining his knees, so uncomfortable and so comfortable for him at the same time, pain and pleasure, clearly something he craved and loved from how hard he was. “You said you need me to touch you or you can’t get off.”

You knew that couldn’t be true.

Jungkook probably got off hundreds of times thinking about you, otherwise he wouldn’t be so ecstatic about you violently riding his dick right now.

His teeth sank into his swollen lower lip, staring at you through his lashes, his voice a thin whisper laced with insatiable need.

“I can’t cum without you anymore.”

You removed your hand.

Your hips stopped abruptly, fulling sheathing his cock inside you.

“No!”

His shout was so loud and desperate that you had to conceal your surprise, not expecting the frantic ferocity of his tone, nearly an agonized sob as he grabbed your upper arms in a crushing grip, his indigo locks crashing into his high cheekbones, sticking to his sweaty face and sharp jaw. It took everything in you to stay calm, everything to not give in and let him have what he wanted. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was knowing the role you were playing, maybe it was the sadistic side of you, who the fuck knew, but there was only a beat of hesitation, a second of you staring into those beautiful dark brown eyes, so perfect.

Just perfect.

Perfectly wrecked, willing to do anything in this moment for you to continue.

Before he could utter a peep of a plea, you shook out of his grip and seized his head, crashing his lips onto your neck.

Jungkook bit you.

Instant, searing pain, taking out all his sexual frustration on your neck, sucking at the skin, hot tongue lapping, groaning, moaning, half-crying because you didn’t move. You just sat on his dick and forced his mouth onto your neck, gleefully savoring his despair, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to feel the pleasure, his hands and nails digging into your waist, his teeth latched to the side of your throat, his stiff cock shuddering inside you, your tight heat keeping him hard but not letting him cum, repeatedly squeezing the engorged head brutally, driving him insane.

Insane.

You could feel his lips move, but you muffled his words, pushing his head into your neck.

Please.

Deep inhale, his wonderful scent filling your nose.

Please.

Riding the high that was Jungkook’s desire for you, fingers tangled into violet strands.

Please.

He felt so, so good, spoon-feeding the dom in you with his tiny whimpers and distraught sniffles.

“P… Please…”

You pressed your lips to his hair, murmuring his name sweetly.

“Jungkook.”

No quiver to your tone, only serene calm.

“Noona…”

His hands slid up your back as your hips began to rock, slow, so painfully slow, building the frenzy layer by layer, his hardness swelling inside you, his soft lips pressed to his hickey onto your neck, even more turned on because he knew you let him mark you, he knew in this moment you were his and only his, everything he wanted and more, his hips rising to meet yours, deepening your thrusts, matching your force, burying his face into your skin and your scent, wanting nothing more than your command over his body.

You turned his head, tucking his hair behind one ear, speaking dark whispers into that curve.

“You look the best when on your knees for me, Jungkook.”

He shivered, your name falling sloppily from his lips, drunk from your power and lost in his service.

You let go of his head and grabbed his shoulders instead, putting all of your weight onto him, now letting yourself chase it, chase the orgasm that you had been building for yourself all this time, letting yourself feel Jungkook and feel the full force of the pleasure he gave you, because, yes, of course, you served him first before you, even if it didn’t seem like it.

Because when it came down to it, Jungkook came to you, opening himself petal by petal to show you his vulnerable side, testing the waters, hoping, wishing, praying that maybe, just maybe, you were the kind of person that he was expecting, wanting, needing, and you, knowing how difficult that was because, well, you had made it difficult, only focusing on games and not on those longing eyes that watched you whenever you came into his view.

Eyes that you looked into now.

Half-lidded, glazed over, fucked-out, still honest.

His large hands were still on your waist, holding you to him as you rode him with furious slaps, muscles flexed in his chest and arms, tattoos on his right arm tense and taut from holding this position for so long. He looked so good. Felt so good. Had an amazing cock.

And fuck.

Jungkook had a cute face.

You genuinely smiled.

“I’ll take care of everything,” you drawled, injecting your words with conviction and adoration.

That did it.

His lips parted, low groan emitting from his throat as his head tipped back, purple waterfalling onto his back, thrusting up into you and shooting into the condom with fierce jolts, unable to hold back any longer, his entire length flinching uncontrollably, sweet whimpers at his release, feeling sorry that he didn’t let you cum first, but that didn’t matter, because you rode through it, already there, falling, falling, your sigh like laden smoke as your orgasm slammed into you, welcoming the bolts of cruel pulses flying through you, concentrated onto your core, Jungkook’s moans hiking into pitched ecstasy at the convulsing clenches of his oversensitive, overused cock, arms embracing you tightly, hugging you for dear life, chest to chest, pounding heart against yours.

Your fingers tangled into his hair.

His hand fitted around your head.

Lips to lips and you took care of everything, claiming that mouth as yours, holding him up even though you were the one in his lap, your kiss onto that perfect mole under that pretty pout, cherishing every mumble of your name, lowering him onto your pillows, soft kisses in between. You took care of everything, lifting yourself off him, chuckling as he whined, pawing for you to come back, but you rapped his knuckles and calmed him, removing the condom and cleaning him off gently with a towel, soft kisses in between because he wanted the attention, deliberately not closing his eyes until you crawled back into the bed, tucking the covers around you and him, Jungkook immediately turning and yanking you into his chest, nose against your skin.

“Who’s the pillow princess?” you teased, ruffling his long violet locks.

His lips pressed onto your hickey, his mark on you, and he sighed in content, drifting into sleep.

-

In the morning, you found a pile of five guys in the living room sleeping in various positions on the giant gray furry beanbag and the sofa. Jungkook was in your bed, passed out. The last guy, Min Yoongi, was in Kim Namjoon’s room, sleeping on his bed, because he was a smart man and took advantage of a perfectly good bed that five drunk hooligans undoubtedly forgot about.

You chuckled and rubbed your neck as you brushed your teeth, seeing yourself and the large purple hickey Jungkook had made last night in the bathroom mirror.

You went back to your room after retrieving the sewing basket from the living room, spending the morning calmly stitching the small buttons back onto his black dress shirt as the seven guys in your apartment continued to snore away.

Then you went back to playing League of Legends.

Ah, Cassiopeia, I had an eventful evening, but I have returned to you.

-

drabble morning-after hungover breakfast

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masterpost