#It's not separate you know it is fluid and dynamic

[chicago-geniza]

This is from the same girl whose work I've been reading since the war began. Her prose itself, while not strictly Surzhyk, mixes Russian and Ukrainian in a very marked way. She's bilingual and grew up in Moscow, but moved to Ukraine over a decade ago with her partner, who is from the region; she also has relatives there, as many Soviet families do. Her record of wartime as everyday life--which she's requested be translated in real time, into more widely-read "global/world languages"--is the only one I've encountered that doesn't attempt a nationalist language politics, doesn't forcefully impose one over the other; she tries to record the living language of the moment. Sometimes a Ukrainian speaker will switch to Russian in order to ironically emphasize the "kanteslyarit" that certain canned official phrases have become in context, the way circumstance guts and twists connotation, the way the calques and loanwords are no more native, no more sigils of strength if spelled or pronounced slightly differently than they are in the surrounding languages. Anyway here is a conversation with her grandmother, who just died of diabetes; the grandmother's Ukrainian phrases are just as legible in Polish. Idk I have been thinking about how to translate the bilingual texts and the multimodal significations of Ukrainian in them, from pathos to irony to genuine linguistic almost-nationalism to, above all, bilingual code-switching realism in a bilingual place. How do you translate komponentn-visikayt in an online Russian-Ukrainian-Surzhyk diary of the war!

[imhidingonceagain]

Can we talk about the amazing representation inside the QSMP?

These days I've seen a few people (haters for sure) saying that the QSMP has few to none diversity and that makes me mad so let me list the diversity of this two month old server:

Inside of lore

We have diversity in family dynamics:

-Homoparental families

-"Nuclear" families

- A Platonic partner family (I don't know what's the proper word to describe Jaiden, Roier and Bobby's situation pls tell me if you know/ EDIT: I've been informed the proper term would be "Queer platonic relationship").

- Single parents

We have LBTQ+ representation:

-Gay characters

Roier

-Bisexual characters

Vegetta, Rubius

-Aroace characters

Jaiden, Maximus (he's actually acespec)

-Lesbian characters

Baghera (EDIT: Idk about her anymore, sorry)

-Trans characters -including gender fluid and non binary

Juanaflippa, Tilín, Leonarda, Maximus, Trump

-Characters with disabilities

Richarlyson (the Brazilians noticed he has a shorter leg and that's why fanartists draw him with a prosthetic leg + we have collectively decided he's black).

-MLM characters -I'm making it a separate cathegory just because the characters haven't specified a label. But if you know their label lmk so I can edit it-

Quackity

Mariana

Slimecicle

Foolish

Forever

Cellbit

EDIT: (I JUST REMEMBERED!)

We also have neurodivergent representation:

Wilbur and Dapper (Both autistic)

Outside of lore (Real life)

From the moment Quackity included Latin Americans that already made the server diverse since us Latinos are one of the most diverse demographic groups in the world.

But still, let me elaborate:

Diversity of nationalities/ ethnic backgrounds

Mexican, English, Argentinian, American, Spanish, Norwegian (Rubius is half Spanish half Norwegian), Cuban (Maximus is half Spanish half Cuban), German and Japanese (Jaiden), Brazilian, Swiss and French (Baghera), Algeria and Turkish (Ètoiles) (for now).

We have people of color (some of them are clearly mestizos, meaning they have both native and white genes)

Quackity, Jaiden, Missa, Mariana, Roier, Forever, Maximus, Felps, Pac, Mike, Ètoiles, Spreen (please lmk if I'm missing someone I don't want to erase anyone especially because I'm talking about the actual CC)

We have diversity of languages:

Spanish, French, Portuguese and English (for now).

Now... The point that I've seen people the most confused about:

We also have LGBTQ+ REPRESENTATION IN REAL LIFE:

Jaiden (Aroace)

Rubius (Bisexual)

Vegetta (Bisexual)

Mike (Bisexual)

Tilín and Leonarda's admins (Non binary and gender fluid respectively)

Plus, the content creators that for now are classified as "Unlabeled" (Roier and Mariana)

There might be more that aren't out yet. Please stop assuming everyone's straight.

So yeah... The QSMP DOES have diversity.

(My only criticism is that we definitely need more female Content creators but hopefully we'll have them in the future. I'm looking at you Quackity, don't disappoint me. If I'm missing something let me know so I can edit it).

[tinycozycomfort]

trust fall

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader

day two of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: fluid exchange -> read her day two here

summary: This, that was a shy thing at first, set into motion by some passing remark you’d made all those months ago—that he would do anything for you if you just asked nice enough.

warnings/tags: pwp!, fluid exchange (come eating/spitting), oral sex (f receiving), anal play, dirty talk, mention of unprotected piv, dom/sub dynamics, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), praise kink, edging

word count: 1.6k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: arguably the filthiest thing i've ever written (nervous) but wow was it great practice. thank you for reading!

main masterlist

“What a mess. Who’s gonna clean all this up, sweetheart?” 

He’s thumbing at the crease of your thigh where it folds into your core, pulling against the bend so that your seam widens. You can feel him looking, each cool swing of his breath fanning over the heat at your center. The slow trickle of where he leaks out of you makes your skin tighten, shrinking uncomfortably over muscle in little welts. 

Joel doesn’t take well to your lack of focus, choosing to demand your attention instead; the press of his thumb turns harder, meeting the end of his pointer to pinch. The pain is instant, but the delay from your haze makes you skip a yelp all together, straight to words like he wants.

“I’ll clean myself.” 

He hums, releasing your flesh, petting the wound where it thrums, “Now how can you reach all the way down here?”

You know this game well—where he means to reduce you to less than incapable, framing it like you’ve lost your way after what he’s just done to you. He wants to act like he can help you, when in reality it’s done to service himself, only further fueling his need to be in control—a role that toes the line between offender and caretaker. He aches to relinquish you of every responsibility, even that of thought.

Joel swipes at the come that refuses to let up where it’s dripping out, making a slow show—one that only he can see and only you can feel—of gathering and pooling and reinserting it, just to watch it slip out again. 

“I-I don’t know. But I need to get clean.” 

He’s smiling something horrible, eyes shining when you gaze down to plead your case for assistance. 

“Oh, poor thing, I know. It’s not your fault,” he dips his thumb into you before trailing up just under the bead of skin above your opening, “There’s just so much. But you’re right, we can’t have you ruining the sheets.” Joel bares his teeth again when you hiss, narrowly missing your clit when you try to maneuver your way into his hand.

You pant, barely able to piece together your cue, “How?” 

“Hard to think after the way I fucked you, hm?” He brushes his free hand across the hill of your cheek, pitiful, as he shakes his head in mock disbelief, “I guess I could help you, sweetheart. Do you want that?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, please.” 

“There she goes. My polite girl. Same one who begged for all this mess in the first place—isn’t that right?” 

You can’t bear to try and find the words, just letting your head loll to the side so you can nod without the pain of keeping your neck straight. He’s unraveling your grip thread by thread so you can become the soft, helpless thing he needs you to be. 

He shoves himself down, ducks his head to be level with your cunt, the hot vent of air around his face bleeding onto you. He’s worked up—you know it from the delicate shudder in his hands, the uneven half-steps in his breathing—and while he swears he can’t, you wish he’d fuck you again. You wriggle, back flat to the bed and knees spreading instinctively. 

Joel starts at the slip of skin separating your cunt from what sits beneath it, careful to catch what he couldn’t collect on the last sweep. His mouth is warm and his tongue gentle, but the breath it punches out of you is hard—furious.

You’re humming high in your throat, past the point of well-mannered, and he’s delighted, slipping the muscle between his lips inside of you, tilting his head just enough so that his nose can’t touch where you’re throbbing for him most. 

You beg, “Joel. Joel, please,” rolling the knobs of your spine forcefully enough to sting, trying uselessly to make contact. He huffs, forearm mashing haphazardly against the curve of your hip, flustered.

“You don’t need it, honey. Now keep still.” 

You’re full-on whining now, little pieces of sound, reedy and loud and not enough to make him feel bad, apparently. 

He nestles himself back in, the wide flat of his tongue pressing hard enough to breach your hole, spooning out everything you saved for him inside you and you start to seethe, a thin film of sweat breaking out across your chest—boiling. 

The hand you haven’t felt in a while returns to a different place, the tips of his pointer and middle brushing under where he’s eating you, the hole there wet with whatever continues to evade his mouth. 

He circles it and you fidget, begging him for anything more, the slow working of his jaw not enough to bring you to the edge. 

There’s the other half of the game—if you can’t come before he’s deemed you clean, you don’t get to at all. 

A sticky curl of love swells in your belly at how familiar you are now with this routine, how far he’s come—peeling away enough of his distance to show his face, to bring you to this. This, that was a shy thing at first, set into motion by some passing remark you’d made all those months ago—that he would do anything for you if you just asked nicely enough. 

Joel’s uncovered desire to see you need him, beg for him, just to make him relent in your favor, was intoxicating. In turn, he continues to make it harder every time for you both, upping the stakes after you barely manage to satisfy his last demand; narrow wins that remind you of just how much power he holds. Always sweet and comforting and protecting, even if from the severity of himself. 

Your stomach clenches, trying frantically to pace your breaths, to focus on the feeling of every too-long pass that has him nudging the underside of your clit, the way his fingers tease against your asshole. He hums in warning, almost done, and you knock a fist against the bed in frustration. 

He pulls away suddenly and your shoulders cave, upset by his unwarned finish, and you’re ready to apologize within an inch of your life when he pipes up. 

“Am I not enough for you, honey? You liked my cock, plenty. Why can’t you do it for my mouth, too?”

“Joel. Joel, you are—you’re enough. I just– right now I need more.” 

“No, you don’t. And I’m not going to tell you again. Now—” he uses the hand not already playing with you to dig into the meat of your thigh, nails drawn, maybe a little upset by how many words you’ve managed despite his ministrations, “Make me happy.” 

He sways low again, the return of his mouth against-underneath-inside of you making your hands curl, a warm buzz floating up through your legs and forearms to meet together in the middle. He’s fervent, determined to prove you wrong now that you’ve challenged his ability and you’re squealing, so light-headed from the effort to breathe that you’re close to stopping all together. 

Joel feeds his lip between his teeth against you reflexively, like he’s trying to hold himself back for a moment, and the idea that he’s gearing up for a long night makes you heave. 

He tries to hide his tell, taking the quickest pause to spit onto his fingers, prodding at your asshole to divert your attention, hardly sliding in as to not give you more than you’ve earned, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, now. Haven’t worked for much of anything yet.”

“But–”

“Show me you can be good, first. Shouldn’t be so hard for you, honey, c’mon.” He inches closer once more, breathing out against you, alternating between little puffs of cold exhales and firm pants of hot air.

You writhe, so pent up you feel restricted by your own body, like climbing out from a pool fully-clothed—heavy and sopping and always tipping back with resistance. Your face is on fire, fingers twisting to try and take the brunt of your need to move. 

Joel is ecstatic—you can hear the wet slide of his grin—and you’re right at the cusp of giving in when he breaks the gap, hot mouth latching onto your clit and you’re gone. You can feel it spread the length of your core first, filling out quickly to everywhere else and you jolt, legs snapping together fast enough that your knees knock above his head. 

He repositions his hands, squeezing between them to pry you open. You wedge a wrist behind you, trying to lift yourself in an effort to stop him but when you peer down, the look on his face is serene, pleading. An exercise in trust maybe—that he’s acquainted enough with your body to know your limit. 

You let yourself rest again and inhale deep, letting him work you down to a stop, the feeling of overstimulation falling into a wash of fuzzy static . Only after you unfold does Joel remove himself, pressing light kisses to the peak of your hip bone on his way up—proud. 

He leans over your torso, his chest parallel, the damp rub of your skin setting your heart off as you breathe in tandem. Selfishly, you scrabble a bit, wanting desperately to have more claim on his body. 

“Hey, hey. Shh. No need to do all that. I’m right here for you.” Joel gathers up your palm between his fingers, sliding your limp knuckles over his cheeks, the little curve of his lip. A moment passes and you reclaim ownership of it, caressing the underside of his jaw faintly. 

“Was I good?” you whisper.

“So good. See, I knew you could do it.” 

He nudges at the band of rib under your breast, “Maybe even a little too good—looking very empty now, sweetheart. What do you think we oughta do about that?”

[verimuru]

Red on Maroon A 16-page IWTV (2022) fancomic about the vampire Armand and journalist Daniel Molloy visiting the Mark Rothko retrospective in 2024 Paris. Content mentions & warnings: The comic depicts Daniel’s internalized ableism. Rothko’s suicide is acknowledged but not discussed in detail. There’s angst, talk about kink and lots of fluff. Louis is mentioned as well as Daniel’s daughters. Marius is not named but is hinted at. The comic is set up in post-Dubai-interview time and based on my knowledge about s1 of AMC’s IWTV with sprinkles of book canon. Some notes about the comic below:

As with my last comic, I am not a native English speaker, so I hope you keep that in mind when reading <3 trying my best here meow meow

The Rothko retrospective can be visited until 2nd of April of 2024 in Louis Vuitton Foundation. I visited the place in January, so the comic’s surroundings are a mix of memories and some image searches, but in no way fully accurate. Since visiting Paris next week is probably not an option for most people, the foundation has a very cool free app, where you can listen to an audio guide about Rothko and paintings in the exhibition. I mostly used their app as a source for this comic, so in case you want to learn more, go here: https://www.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/en/events/mark-rothko

 I listened to a lot of Morton Feldman’s Rothko Chapel -album while making this. So put it in playing in the background if you’re into that sort of thing. Link to the playlist on youtube

Since I am Finnish and I found out that one of LVF’s first exhibition had some Finnish painter’s work, ofc I had to include them… Page 14 has Schjerfbeck’s “Dancing Shoes”  and Gallen-Kallela’s “Kullervo Cursing”.

Ok finally some headcanon stuff: in my head, while writing this comic, I imagined Daniel having accepted the dark gift from Armand, but both of them wanting him to live as a human as long as possible to enjoy the benefits of a… mortal body. :’D Since, you know, vampirism is forever anyway, so why not enjoy the variety of bodily fluids, body heat, aches and weirdness of aging? While having a chronic illness is shitty, his life is not, and while his disability marginalizes him, there’s a perspective there, a person living and enjoying things, allowed to take space and feel his thoughts develop from these changes (that also affect over 6 million people around the world with Parkinson’s).

After finishing the comic I am not so sure if Daniel is going to be turned into a vampire after all. So your guesses are as good as mine, would love to hear your suggestions, hehe!

I wish we knew more about Daniel’s daughters! I just came up with something here because I wanted to draw them and wanted to see their dynamics as a family.

I have now read the Devil’s Minion part from Queen of the Damned as a separate short story and appreciate the TV show’s changes to Daniel even more. I can’t wait for S2…..

My sincerest thanks to @anaid-queen for being a test audience, my informant and such a cheerleader the past week <3<3<3

Hope you enjoy xoxo

SORRY I POSTED THE WRONG IMAGE FILES FIRST WAHHH I had to repost ;_;

[argisthebulwark]

Promised to Forget You

summary: It took time for your life to stabilize, to find your new rhythm without him. Separating two lives that had once been twisted together was messy but somehow, you managed. You've thrown yourself into your work and forgotten all about him - until one fateful evening. You treat yourself to a night out at the local tavern, only to run into the last person you want to see - your ex husband. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Vilkas, Miraak warnings: they're long lol. alcohol, perhaps some unhealthy relationship dynamics, sexually suggestive but not explicit. swearing masterlist

Choking on your drink, you splutter behind your napkin when Brynjolf walks in the door. His hair's shorter than you remember but that's the same smirk you'd once so foolishly fallen for. Sneaking another glance at him you're grateful for the cloister of bodies shuffling through the room, keeping you from his direct line of sight.

Against your better judgment, you have to admit that he looks good. The black shirt and loose jacket are unfamiliar but look nice against his skin tone. It's difficult to ignore him - you find your ears straining for the slightest hint of his lilted voice over the music and chatter. Your food grows quite cold but your drink is long finished, leaving you a little light headed.

Perhaps it's best to head home. You'd intended to stay out a bit longer and enjoy your first night free of duties but the sight of him leaning too close to some girl makes you feel ill. That's the smile you'd fallen for, the conspiratorial whisper he'd once used to form filthy little fantasies in your mind, her fingers curling on his thigh. It's hard to correct yourself - you're divorced, he's free to do as he wishes. You leave a handful of septims on the table and turn toward the exit, shouldering past a group of bards in your bid for a quick escape.

"Runnin' off already?"

His voice stops you dead in your tracks. The rest of the tavern grows too loud when you feel his fingers hook through the loop of your pants, tugging just enough to bring you closer. Your heart rails against your ribs when Brynjolf's chest brushes your back.

"Bryn, we shouldn't." Your voice wavers, face heating at the response you're having to him. Rationally, you should scold him and walk off - but he feels so good. You've missed his smooth voice and the familiar way he touches you, heart uselessly clamoring for more.

"And here I was hopin' to ask for a dance." You can hear the smug grin in his voice and know you're absolutely fucked. There's no room for rational thought when his lips brush against your shoulder. "You got time?"

No. You should tell him no. You fight against the urge to sink into his touch when he kisses your throat. This was the hardest part of separating - working in proximity of each other while unlearning the casual intimacy. You'd worked so hard to forget about his touch but it was all undone with that one kiss.

"'Course." You sound strangled but he sweeps you into his arms without warning. Brynjolf's body moves with yours as the music picks up, large hands holding your body against his and it's all so easy. Your arms still fit so perfectly around his neck, each movement as fluid and familiar as the last time you'd danced together.

"Thought you were here with someone else?" You manage to ask, earning yourself a grin - of course he can detect whatever jealousy is coiled up in the pit of your gut. It's wrong to feel but you can't seem to stamp it out; the picture of his lips grazing her ear, her hand resting so comfortably on his thigh.

"The gal from before?" Emerald eyes glittered in the low firelight when he leaned closer, the hand at your waist tugging you closer. You're hardly dancing anymore - intensity builds to new heights when his forehead presses to yours. "Don't know her. Just saw you lookin' and wanted to see how you'd react."

"And?" You can't keep your pulse from quickening at the implication. It's all so wrong but when your hand slides down to his chest you feel it there, that damned ring you'd placed on his finger all those years ago. It's hidden under his shirt but you'd know it anywhere.

"D'you still want me?" Brynjolf breathes, flooding your brain with every possible answer; no, you shouldn't want him. You've already had him and left him. You've put yourself through hell trying to move on from him but you can't say it. Your fucking heart won't let you say no.

"Bryn," you mumble, praying that he'll laugh it off. Despite your instincts you let one of his hands rest against your face and draw your mouth closer to his, quivering under his hold.

"'Cause I want you. Think I'll always want you." His words shatter your entire world. Your resolve breaks and you forget about all the distance, the weeks spent apart and uncertainty. You forget the fights and losing yourselves in the Guild, the loneliness and emptiness. All you can see is the man you've loved gazing down at you asking for another chance.

"We were a wreck at the end, Bryn." You gulp, flailing for the right answer. It's foolish to keep thumbing the wedding ring he's apparently worn around his neck but you can't help it. The knowledge is thrilling - he'd never gotten rid of his, either.

"That's why we gotta try again, love." Brynjolf begins to sway with the music once more and it's intoxicating to be held by him. "We try again and again 'til we get it right. What d'you say?"

You could refuse him. You know he'd accept it - he would let you leave the tavern and pretend nothing happened at the next Guild meeting. But with the familiar beat of his heart under your palm every cell in your body screams for more.

"Alright." You struggle to sound firm but it breaks at that goofy smile on his face. "We can start slow."

His kiss is brief but sets your body aflame. It's something you'd lost so many years ago but it burns through all your reasons to refuse him. Your body remembers his too well, eager for more even when he pulls away. It may be a mistake to fall for him once more, but you take solace in the fact that it will certainly be fun.

Exhausted but resolved on enjoying yourself, you drag yourself to the bar of the Bannered Mare. An unfamiliar bard plucks away a nice tune from the corner as you're handed a drink, not bothering with food. Being the Harbinger is an exceptional title but gods, it's sucked the life out of you. Working with Vilkas grows easier with time but the toll the divorce had taken on you both is glaringly obvious.

The drinks go down easy and for the moment, the weight from your shoulders lifts. As evening melts into late night other musicians join in and local couples twirl happily around the tavern's main hall. Maids bearing trays of ale and wine tiptoe carefully between their bodies and you find yourself looking quite pathetic; empty bottles piling up at your side as you gaze out across the sea of bodies.

The man who asks you dance is kind. His hands are respectful when you whirl around the tavern, a laugh bubbling out of you for the first time in ages. It is simple and easy, free from the pressure of responsibility that crushes you more and more with each day.

"I don't recognize you, are you an adventurer?" You ask as if you've emerged from Jorrvaskr recently.

"I am." He answers dreamily, a kind smile on his face. "I've been venturing across Skyrim's wilds since I was young, though I must admit that Whiterun appears to be quite the gem." His sneaky smile implies that your presence may have something to do with that comment, though he freezes before you can conjure a suitable reply.

"Mind if I cut in?"

You trip over your partner's feet, scrambling for something to say when his smile dips into a grimace. You know exactly who looms over your shoulder - he's probably glaring in that intimidating way only he can, the one that sends fear into the souls of any sane man.

Vilkas chuckles when the man stumbles over his apologies and hurries away. You turn on him, lips a bit loosened by the alcohol and stab a finger into his chest. The hand raised in greeting proudly displays that damned ring you gave him so many years ago, firmly in place on his ring finger.

"I told you to knock that off." You grumble, irritated by how unreasonably attractive he looks. Vilkas smirks down at you, easily hooking a finger into the chain around your throat to reveal your own ring. You gulp down whatever threat you had for him next, unable to counter the knowing look in those brown eyes.

"We should talk." He breezes past you, allowing the ring to thump against your chest. You take a moment to stare after him, brain struggling to catch up with the past few moments. Vilkas disappears through the tavern's back exit and like a fool, you follow.

Chilly air stings your skin after the pleasant heat of a roaring fire. Gathering your arms to your chest you approach the shadow of a man leaning against the stone wall, feeling his eyes follow every move you make.

"Alright. Talk." You instruct, trying to sound intimidating. It's a bit undercut by your teeth chattering - damned autumn chill. There's a slight rustle before his jacket is thrown around your shoulders, still deliciously warm from his body.

"I will always be your husband." His whisper is almost entirely stolen away by the wind. The tenderness in his voice wrecks you - you want to comfort him but hold back, watching his jaw grind as he glares out across the plains. "I don't care about what the census thinks or how we pay the fucking tax - I will never stop being yours. I've tried, trust me - I cannot stop seeing myself as your fucking husband."

He gulps, knuckles white against the stone and tears threaten your eyes. Your voice is too tight to speak and you venture one step closer, intoxicated by the smell of his cologne. One shaky hand reaches out and for the first time in ages, you feel him.

Vilkas shatters at your touch. His hands are in your hair, your body pressed between the chilly wall and the delicious warmth of him. Each breath comes out as a ragged breath and your heart nearly skips out of your chest at the intensity in his gaze, something you haven't seen in years.

"Tell me to stop." He pleads and for a second you consider it - you could brush it all off as a drunken mistake and return to Jorrvaskr. The ring weighs too heavily around your neck when you stare up at this man you'd vowed to love forever, the one you'd thought had grown too far away from you to get back.

"Tell me to stop and I will." He growls, eyes fluttering closed when you grab at the sides of his shirt. You still aren't sure whether you intend on shoving him back or dragging him closer, too flustered by the closeness you'd craved for years.

"Don't stop." Those silly words barely leave your lips before he's kissing you. It's all teeth and tongue, awakening a desperate hunger that's laid dormant within you for ages - hunger for him. Leading the Companions had wrecked your relationship but he;s here now, and he finally wants you just as badly as you'd once wanted him.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles against your skin, clumsy fingers unclasping the chain at your throat. "I'm sorry it got all fucked up, I know we got too busy but I should've -" his strangled voice cuts off when he slides the ring from your chain. You both stare down at it, the flickering firelight reflecting in its scratched metal surface where it sits squarely in his palm.

He doesn't need to speak - you know exactly what he's offering. Vilkas' hungry eyes watch every little move you make and you suck in a deep breath. Years ago, you'd dreamt of a moment like this - apologies and tears and reconciliation. As the distance between you had grown you'd cut off those silly little hopes in favor of stability within the Companions.

"Please let me be your husband." Vilkas gulps, shredding through those years of doubt. With shaky fingers you pluck that ring from his hand, admiring it for a moment before placing back where it belongs.

As the Last Dragonborn, there is no end to requests for your time. Dragons to be slain and battles to win, armies to lead and disputes to settle. Citizens and royalty alike demand each second of your attention but tonight is yours. You'd left specific instructions with your steward to not be disturbed unless the world is quite literally ending and you intend on enjoying these few hours uninterrupted.

The wine goes down easily and you find yourself chatting with a few local patrons. They are either too kind to bring your title up or are blissfully unaware of who you are - it doesn't matter, you are merely glad to enjoy small talk without anyone ordering you to solve their multitude of problems.

"Darling." A voice you'd forgotten ages ago shatters your peace. Delicate fingers caress your shoulder, sweeping aside any hair in his way to your skin. "A word?"

The eyes of your new friends widen as they stare over your shoulder. You haven't seen Miraak in ages but you can still remember how he'd looked when you'd last parted - beautiful and devastatingly intimidating. You mumble some excuse to your fellow patrons and shove out of your seat, hurrying after the dramatic flow of his robes.

Anxiety sends chills toward your extremities but you bolster yourself for whatever he could want - he's left you alone for lifetimes, never sticking his nose into your life until the dragon trouble began. It had been far too many years since you'd limped away from that ancient temple, ragged and bleeding from the fight that had ended your long marriage.

When you round the corner, whatever speech you've been practicing is banished. Deep green eyes eat up every little move you make, arms folded across his broad chest. His dark hair is now streaked with grey and stubble lines the familiar angle of his jaw. His nose still bears a crooked bridge from that last fight you'd entered at his side - your healing magick hadn't been enough to straighten it.

All those memories and dozens more come rushing back when Miraak glowers at you. Stolen kisses and shared passion, whispered promises and that rushed ceremony binding your life to his. You recall every moment and are stunned, terrified to realize that you are no longer angry with him.

"Why are you here?" You finally ask, brows tightening. "Why now?"

"You dare to ask me this?" Miraak rises from where he'd been seated, though the intimidating tone of voice no longer scares you. Puzzling through your recent life, you cannot find any reason for him to reappear so suddenly - you are overwhelmed but no more than before, carving out a slice of peace by purchasing a home far from any major cities a few months prior.

"Unless you are offering aid with the endless list of royal requests, I cannot fathom why you've chosen to approach me now."

"Insolent." Miraak mutters, stalking closer to you. You reach for the blade at his side but he's too quick, standing inches away while your fingers barely brush the dagger. Rage has twisted his features but you can see the slight changes in him; scars in previously unblemished skin and wrinkles around the corners of his eyes.

"I like the grey." You tease, a thrill running up your spine when his hand smacks the wall near your shoulder. "Looks quite dapper on you."

"I have given you the space you so delicately requested." He seethes, clearly remembering the parting threat you'd left with him. "I have not bothered you once over the years -"

"How kind of you, dear."

"Until you chose to share an abode with another man." Miraak finishes, malice dripping from every word. You struggle to catch up - there's been a couple flings over the years but never have you found another love, romance has eluded your life since that fateful falling out with him.

"What -"

"I saw you." His arms cage you against the wall, body pressed dangerously close. You can't count the years that have passed since you've felt this fluttering deep in your stomach but he's glaring down at you, clearly expecting an answer. "I watched that mortal move his belongings into your home."

Oh. Gods, he's so wrong but it is far funnier than the truth - that you'd hired a steward to care for your home when it became overwhelming. Miraak had seen your friend and employee move into the spare bedroom and gods bless him, he thought that you'd finally remarried.

"Are you jealous?" You taunt, deeply enjoying the deep flush in his cheeks. You'll tell him the truth after having a bit of fun. After all the trouble he's caused you, it's only fair.

"No." He lies, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He smacks at the hand you rest on his chest, fingers closing around your wrist. Arousal replaces those butterflies when he pins your arm to the wall, the cold metal of his ring biting into your skin.

"You seem jealous, Miraak." You gulp down the urge to kiss him. Even if he looks dangerously handsome hovering so close and simmering with poorly contained rage, you should not kiss him.

"I think it's only fair for this mortal man to know that you have a husband." He snarls, hips pressing yours into the wall. You aren't sure if he wants to fuck you or kill you - the perfect balance you've missed all these years.

"A husband?" You laugh, trying to avoid holding eye contact for too long. He's always had a way of seeing right through you - and you don't want to give up this game too early. It's proving to be quite a fun time teasing him. "I haven't had a husband since -"

"We are bound."

"We have not spoken in ages." You counter, eyes fluttering a bit when his hips angle into yours. Miraak's grip on your hand is just firm enough to excite you.

"That does not break our vows." His lips trail over your jaw, tantalizingly close to your own. "I know you have never taken another lover so seriously - what makes this mortal so special? Can he do the things I've done for you? Does he -"

"He's a steward." You're gasping before you know better, too overwhelmed by the lovely sensations of his skin on yours. Even after all these years your body yearns for his touch - memories you shove away until those rare moments late at night suddenly blasting to the forefront of your mind. "He's my employee."

Miraak's grin is positively wolfish when you glare back at him. Each breath you take is tinged with his scent, skin tingling from his touch and for one moment your restraint slips. You kiss this man you've cursed since the day you left him, devouring him while familiar fingers twist into the nape of your hair.

"Truly?" He whispers, suddenly vulnerable when he speaks against your lips. "There is no other?"

You know the question is loaded but you are nodding, willing to throw away all those years of hate for a few more moments in his arms. Miraak's thumb traces down your throat when you kiss him again, far more tender than before.

"There is no other."

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks For the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Two

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 13.7k

Release date: Mon. February 5, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: Now aware of Seokjin's secret, you try to take some of his...techniques into your next stream. But how well will they pay off?

Chapter Warnings: anxiety, discussion of boundaries and triggers, Seokjin explains what bdsm is supposed to mean to us watching at home, internet/cyberbullying dynamics, boss/employee power struggles, discussions of consent, peer pressure, mention of threesome, implied chubby/fat reader (it's vague enough to not adopt a specific size), mention of sex toys, swearing, sexual fantasies, m masturbation, damn Seokjin has a boner so many times in this sorry, size kink, y/n assumes Seokjin's sexuality, porn simulation games, 1 (one) reference to Vine (RIP), Dom Seokjin, kink negotiation, mention of choking and improper bdsm practices, mention of urethral sounding (but not actually happening)

a/n: Ahh hello! First of all, thank you to everyone who has read TFTS so far! It really warms my heart knowing how well received it's been, and your comments and messaged have meant so much. I really wanted to emphasize discussions of consent and boundaries in this chapter. I was struggling to write for a little bit, and then suddenly I saw this one gif of Jin on my feed and my brain jimmy neutron brain blasted my way to a 13k length chapter. Hopefully I've proofread well enough, but if you spot some serious errors please let me know. -h

On Saturday afternoon, Seokjin woke up for the first time in what felt like forever feeling rested. After checking the weather app on his phone constantly throughout the night, he received the alert that heavy snowfall was causing delays in plowing and public transit. He messaged the opening crew, encouraging them to also enjoy the lie-in and prepare for a delayed open. Instead of falling into the semi-sickening lovefest of couples peeling each other’s perilla leaves or trying to feed each other lunch, he could be spared until the evening. 

Which was good, because Seokjin was exhausted. His live last night was not planned, but after closing and apologizing to you about his gross mismanagement of power, he needed to get out the pent-up frustration that crumbled the bones in his body from pressure. 

Sure, it was the right thing to do to apologize, even though he knew he would never be able to look at that prep counter, your wide, glassy eyes, and swollen lips the same way again. But it was important to him. He could never become the kind of man he watched his boss be to him or his wife, forcing his way past someone’s boundaries to get what they wanted. 

Even years later, Seokjin was convinced that had he not shared information about Soon Yi that intrigued his boss, if he’d maybe kept his personal and professional lives separate, things maybe would have been different. And now that he was in the position of power where he was someone else’s boss, wasn’t it his duty to make sure that didn’t happen to you too?

Seokjin almost lost all his control with you yesterday. From the moment you came in with a tired, croaky voice that greeted him “hi” before the sun had even come up, he knew he would be struggling for the rest of the day. 

During multiple points of your training, he had the urge to touch you, which was nearly impossible not to do, since so much of the guidance you needed came from hand-over-hand instruction as he showed you the fluid motions of safe chopping. When his large hands covered yours, Seokjin became aware of how tiny you were to him. Maybe not in all the places, but your height, your smaller hands, they showed him how easily and perfectly you slotted into his body, like a puzzle piece he didn’t know he could ever feel matched to. 

Maybe Seokjin executed this desire to touch you a little too dramatically. When he saw your misplaced cutting knife, he let that excuse lead him head-first into white hot desire, scolding you, watching you squirm a little as you felt embarrassed for losing focus. And that seemed to unlock some feral need in him, to get you to squirm a little more, to touch you and feel the velveteen softness of your forearms as he pinned you against the prep table. 

The little gasp you’d let out sent the blood straight to his cock, and to avoid you seeing how easy and embarrassingly you could undo him–how quickly one singular sound from you would make Seokjin rock hard and panting and under your complete power–he reacted, clasped your wrists, used some set of excuses to get closer, let his arm skim across your cheek to grab a packet of whatever the hell was above you. And the way you didn’t resist, didn’t pull away from his grasp showed him how good you could be, how obedient you were as you turned around when told. 

He should’ve stopped there, but you were standing in front of him, smelling a little bit like coffee and a fruity shampoo you used, your bodies only mere inches from full on contact. And Seokjin wanted more of a reason to hold onto you, to see what ways he could rile you up, whether you were cognizant or not of how, well, submissive you were to him. 

Most of his income from streams came from scenarios where Seokjin played into a softer role, which translated into the role of a submissive pretty boy, and usually a bottom. But for the first time in years, a rich, satisfying wave of dominance rolled back into his body and he welcomed it.

Seokjin knew better, but he couldn’t help himself. The one bit of control he maintained was in his refusal to let go of your hands, even after you had mastered the motions of your knife, possibly even better than Seokjin himself could chop. Because if Seokjin declawed himself from you, his hands would absolutely wander. Up the sleeve of your exposed forearms and down the swell of your breasts and full hips. 

His cock ached thinking about how plush and soft your body would be under his hands, how he wouldn’t have to worry about breaking you. He could safely grope your sides and not feel like he would pinch your bones together, and that was important, because Seokjin liked to be rough.

When that carrot fell, you couldn’t shake Seokjin’s desperate hands off yours and you carried him with you as you curved your body toward the floor to pick up your mess. Seokjin was blessed and cursed with the brief moment he got to touch more of you than he ever had as your ass rocked back and ground gently into him. 

He’d moaned, though he tried to disguise it as a grunt or scoff, but the way your delicious ass attracted him right in between the line of your cheeks practically begged him to rut against you. 

Your reaction of shock, though, halted him as he remembered you two were in the kitchen of his family’s restaurant. He scrambled to cover his dick before it became even more obvious and humiliating. 

And then you fell, because Seokjin was an idiot and forgot he had been holding onto you. 

The sound of your head crashing into the metal ricocheted through his ears, and your pained moan sent him spiraling in panic. He didn’t think. Seokjin wasn’t the best at remaining calm during potential medical emergencies, instead of electing to assess your wellbeing and check-in with you, he just reacted, plucking you off the floor and onto the counter.

You can’t manage a restaurant without carrying heavy sacks of rice or flour, cartons of vegetables or gallons of oils and liquids into the space. That, plus the fact that Seokjin did go to the gym to keep his figure, ensured that when he had to pull you up from the floor, he could do so with ease. Which thanks to his awful, overly enthusiastic libido, was really locking in some potential size kink. If Seokjin could hoist you onto the cold prep counter without breaking a sweat, it meant he could also hoist you onto other things, like his cock. Could bounce you up and down and see how those delicious, large tits would follow his pace.

Fuck. 

This was when Seokjin realized even though he was deeply, deeply interested in these fantasies, his reality was different. Because too easily he had dipped into some innate submissive part of you and decided to play with it and tease you for it. Too easily, he has erased any boundary between professional and personal, and now you are walking around with a giant bruise on your forehead. He used his power to manipulate you, didn’t he? While the tiniest part of him argued back, suggesting it was purely mutual attraction and biology, that he shouldn’t apologize because he swore he saw something in your eyes that almost guaranteed you wanted him too, this is why Seokjin had to apologize. The “almost” of it all. He wasn’t sure, which meant the uncertainty was a risk and just because he wanted something to be true didn’t mean it was. 

By the end of the day, the intense proximity to you and the memory of your lips parting to suck his tongue into your mouth had become too much. Seokjin turned on an impromptu stream to wallow in his self pity and direct that dominant energy into something that was far less harmful and at least lucrative. 

Now, as the winter’s dull afternoon light glowed through the city, Seokjin checked his phone, seeing that the evening crew leader had arrived and informed him that everything was covered and they wouldn’t need the extra help. 

With that update, Seokjin’s entire evening just became available, which was a rare thing for him since he moved up in his job role. But because of this, he was unsure what to do to pass the time. He cooked himself dinner, cleaned, and organized the jars in his refrigerator, needing to keep his hands busy to distract himself from thinking about you. 

His apartment looking immaculate and there no longer being anything else to clean, he finally fired up his computer to play games. Maybe this would serve as a proper distraction. His new PC was set to come early next week after being delayed by the snow. Despite Seokjin’s financial success since his start as a streamer, money to him was still something he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

After Worldwide Handsome took their cut from last night’s fifteen grand in earnings, he would be walking away with about ten thousand dollars. He would, albeit quietly, pour around seven thousand of those dollars into the restaurant, where the mom-and-pop feel of the small shop was starting to show its age.

Last week, he’d called a repairman to give him a quote about fixing a broken coil on one of the griddles. After a quick inspection, he was informed most of the unit was corroding, and it was time to seriously consider a replacement. Between that, the new register he ordered, and the walk-in freezer that was coughing its last breath, probably as we speak, Seokjin spent nearly forty grand in the last month with repairs and replacements to keep the shop running another day. 

His parents had insisted they’d pay for the expenses, but after the first few discoveries he’d made of the DIY wiring his father had tried in earnest to configure, Seokjin stopped alerting them to the updates he was making, hoping that distance, age, and some fairly similar looking appliances would allow for these changes to go undetected when they returned. He had seen what this place made. He’d seen his paycheck. There was no way in hell his father could afford an $18 to 25,000 walk-in freezer on their operating budget. 

Overall, Seokjin made plenty of money with streaming, but beyond some investments and his nice apartment, as well as a savings account to ensure he wasn’t completely destitute, he lived much below his means. When he hit goals during his streaming, it did really feel like he was winning big. To buy himself a new PC was something he knew he worked for.  

Just as he was browsing the new skins in the game store, he heard the familiar chime and his heartrate picked up. 

You were live. 

He hesitated. “No,” he said out loud to himself, his voice croaking after hours of not speaking. “Don’t even think about it.” 

He knew if he looked at you right now, all the distractions, the cleaning, the dedication to keeping himself busy, would be for nothing. It would be painful to look at you–probably all cozy with your hair pulled messily away from your face, your glasses hanging off your nose instead of your usual contacts–and not think about how merely hours ago he had your heat rubbed up against him. 

If he really wanted to torture himself, he would also think about how the casual, disheveled look you sported could have been something he woke up to this morning if he’d tried a little harder, the loose t-shirt you probably wore rising up while you slept next to him, exposing the soft tummy he knew hid under it. Maybe even one of your nipples would slip out, hard from the chill of the cold winter air bleeding into his apartment. 

But Seokjin wouldn’t torture himself. He knew better. When he exited his game, he definitely didn’t launch his web browser and go to your channel that was on his Favorites tab. And he definitely didn’t cup himself through his sweats as he watched you appear before him. 

If the idea of you in casual wear could make him this hard, the view of you now, as you sat on stream with a tight, low-cut top that showed the curve of your breasts and their delicious, lickable valley between them, could easily turn every part of him into stone. You did your makeup today. Let your hair delicately frame your face. You looked like you were logging on to lure your viewers to come to you like a siren. Seokjin wanted you to devour him. 

His cock twitched and he groaned. He was such a pervert. But whoever this Y/N was, she looked like she was ready to play some games, and not the kind that Seokjin was used to seeing on stream. 

“Well, hello,” you purred. Was this really happening? Who the fuck had possessed the wide-eyed, awkward gamer he was used to watching?

“I thought, given that it’s so close to Valentine's Day, and because I missed the stream last night, I would make it up to you.” 

Seokjin froze. How had he not known you were supposed to stream yesterday? He would’ve never let you stay so late. He shot you an apologetic text,and when he looked up from his phone, he saw some of the comments flooding into your feed:

Mingisaysrelax: Um…am I on the right website? 😏💦

MountainSan88:😳 

PizzaBoy97: You look really pretty 😍

MizzVyne: Is this allowed? IS THIS ALLOWED?

Seokjin watched as your chat exploded in response to your new look, clips being taken by the hundreds when you leaned down to adjust your seat and the tops of your breasts jiggled. Your mods seemed to be on top of things though, because as soon as he saw raunchy or hateful comments, they were swiftly being taken down. 

“I’m not going to read my comment section right now, but I assume you’re all a little shocked by my appearance. I don’t know, I was feeling a bit inspired by another streamer I watched last night when I got home from work. He had some really good ideas on um…stuff, and no I’m not going to share who he is because some of you will absolutely cyber bully him for being associated with me and he deserves better than that.” 

He. A pang of bitterness surged through Seokjin. It was laughable, really, how he was jealous because you were watching other male streamers when you got home from work, completely oblivious to how on another site he was jerking his aching cock to his viewers thanks to how worked up you made him. 

“But yeah, I’m going to switch up the stream in the second half, if you want to stick around and see.”

This really piqued his interest, pressing his palm down onto his erection to try and relieve some of the pressure. 

You frowned at your screen as you launched your game, some first person shooter that would hold your attention so you wouldn’t have to talk.

You opened your mouth to add something, but you were immediately dropped into your game, setting your jaw as you focused on the controls in front of you, occasionally panicking, key smashing so loud that it drowned out your squeals when you were knocked over and over again and needed a revive. 

Seokjin assumed whatever teammate who kept reviving you must’ve been a subscriber who was stream sniping…or reverse stream sniping? Stream assisting and reviving as you struggled your way through the game. 

Something really stuck with him as you played. Whoever this “mentor” was must have been well versed in the knowledge that on any streaming platform, sex sells, especially for women. Your new look was drawing in quite the crowd. He wasn’t sure he’d seen you have this many subs, points, or viewers while streaming before. It was like a switch flipped. 

He felt a tiny flutter of something like pride swell into his chest. You were becoming more confident every day he knew you, from your knife skills to school teaching to now streaming. 

“Oh shittttttt,” you groaned into your mic, ripping Seokjin away from his soft reverie and back into full on, desperate wanting. Maybe you were toeing the community guidelines with this stream, but that groan sounded almost pornographic coming out of your mouth, and any chance Seokjin had at trying to be respectful was long gone. 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh you’re being a bad girl tonight I see,” he chuckled to himself.

Almost as if you heard him, you giggled back, biting your lip playfully. Fuck, what were you doing to him? Your chat seemed to be in a similar standing. 

As a result, One of the mods pinned an announcement to the top:

W0nW00: To maintain community guidelines and compliance, we are labeling this channel as 18+. We ask that you be respectful to Y/N and her moderators as we continue with this stream. If your account is set to under 18, you will be redirected in 2 minutes. 

Shit, all for a simple moan? 

You paused the game. “I’m going to go for a bio break. Be right back.” You set your break screen, and instead of the usual, cutesy graphic of a cherry blossom tree blowing in the wind that said “Spring Day Streams”, it was now a neon, vaporwave cityscape and said “Join Us For Spring Night Streams, An After Dark Experience”. 

Seokjin’s eyes wide, he finally released his cock from his sweats, and took himself in his hand. Oh, this was going to be good. 

Seokjin is a camboy.

That’s the only thought splitting through the headache you’ve had all morning. Is there such a thing as an orgasm hangover? Because if so, you’ve got one. If not, maybe you were concussed in the kitchen yesterday.

You’ve spent most of the day trying to clean up the mess of your apartment and frankly, your mental state. Seokjin spends his Friday nights Daddy domming his humble pool of viewers and making thousands of dollars doing so. To even think that sentence feels insane. 

And humiliating. Because attached to that sentence is the realization that Seokjin’s major success as a gay camboy means that he is absolutely not thinking about you the way you are of him, and the kiss you imposed on him at work was definitely not consensual after all, which when you think about it, is obvious based on how frantically he apologized and assigned himself at fault for what happened. He was trying in the most polite way to reject you. 

You’re an idiot. And despite all of it, the shame of your action isn’t what’s delivering the heavy punch; it’s the fact that your crush didn’t die the second you found out last night. If anything, you’ve been silently wallowing in your sadness since you woke up, your stupid heart not processing that there’s one significant reason for why you can’t have him. 

You try to trudge through the fog of it all, placing your newly cleaned toys back into their proper dust cases and compartments before returning them to the drawer next to your side table. You switch loads of laundry and drop the warm pile on your bed, grimacing at the idea of having to fold it all. 

You shouldn’t be disappointed. This is a stupid crush that was never meant to go this far. Not to this place where you aren’t just humiliated, but the loneliness that you often avoid feeling has been spilling through the cracks of your life all day. 

The laundry is the only thing that occupies one side of your bed. Never another body, his warmth, his weight existing as another living thing keeping your living thing company as you fold laundry or wash dishes. 

No, you shouldn’t have projected this crush or obsession or whatever you want to call it onto Seokjin, but in these months of conversation and blooming friendship, you’ve found your mind beginning to wander into the fantasy of not just sex, but safety and connection. He’s a man who has always treated you with the utmost respect, even now in how he has maintained a boundary that gently rejects you, even if it’s confusing. 

Before his promotion at the restaurant, there was collaboration that fostered your trust in him; your bodies started working around each other like dancers, fusing your movements with a natural flow. You’d seen some of that pop up throughout the day yesterday, which you couldn’t help but feel like delivered a bit of hope in your stomach. 

You know it’s useless to continue hoping that something will change. Maybe he’s bi, you’ve thought a few times since you went to bed. He did call everyone a good girl. But, don’t some guys call each other girls as some kind of kink? But even hoping for that still feels wrong in your gut. Instead of wishing he just so happens to like pussy, you should be redirecting yourself from the fact that it doesn’t even matter. He said so himself, he’s your boss. 

“Ugh,” you groan into your unfolded laundry. Why can’t anything ever be easy? 

You shove the clothing pile to one side of your bed as you lie down, staring up at the ceiling, your eyes following the soft pattern of cracks that have begun to appear through the paint. You already know that going back to work on Monday will be awful, not just because this crush won’t crush itself, but because you clearly now know more about Seokjin than he perhaps ever wanted you to know. Won’t it be awkward trying to talk to him? And if he asks why you’re being so weird, what will you even say?

Sorry Seokjin, I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore because I spent Friday cumming while watching you on your gay cam show as you stroked your huge dick and admittedly once I saw your face connected to your dick I had the best orgasm of my life that rendered me useless the next day.

Perfect. This won’t be absolute hell at all. 

Your stream alarm rings on your phone. You sigh. That’s right. You promised a makeup stream to your followers. 

How did Seokjin stream so confidently? Last night, the way he just exuded dominance and control, how he managed to get so much money from sitting there and making his chat do the work? It’s not only impressive but also inspiring. If you were able to have that distance from your chat, maybe things would be a bit easier, and the questions that were so personal and directed would fade into the background while ones of adoration and impersonal fantasies could take their place. 

And the money, god. If you had money like that, you wouldn’t have a stack of financial aid forms sitting on your dresser right now waiting for you to basically jump through hoops to ask nicely for a loan. 

The way he was able to be so different and make money off of it? That feels promising to you too. Because whoever Daddy Dom Seokjin is, he isn’t just walking around in the world being “on” all the time. You know him as someone whose ears flush with embarrassment the second one of the delivery guys tells him he made an error with the order and tries to diffuse the tension with some free snacks; who often hums game scores and whose laugh sounds like a squeaky windshield wiper swiping across dried glass. 

What if you could be more like that? 

Not Daddy Dom or Mommy Y/N, but more casual and detached? You could stop reading your chat and answering questions. Or if you did want to play into some of Seokjin’s sex appeal, you could dress slightly more suggestively or do your hair and makeup to exploit the male gaze’s money a bit, just like how Seokjin did. 

In this world of streaming, where everything feels like fractured versions of reality, parts of you being split among the pixels and delivered and digested into someone else’s home for their entertainment and pleasure, it’s hard for you to ever feel like you can have some close community with your followers. Not like Wonwoo does with his. Because of your start and how people perceive you now, there just doesn’t seem to be a way for you to have intimacy. Even if you tried, your chat flies by so quickly now that unless it’s a notification from a mod, any usernames and personal anecdotes are lost before you can even know who’s who. 

You think about it for a bit. It can’t hurt to try, right? It’s not like you being a little less reserved would automatically launch you into a career in porn. And if it will help bring a little more income in, lessen the blow a tiny bit, you can’t really see why it would make sense to keep doing things this way when you are this miserable by the idea of it. 

Spring Day Streams holds a standard image that is pink and soft, and you know some people love watching you because you’re hitting some fantasy they have. The woman who looks like an angel but swears like a sailor and as stereotypes often assume, fucks like a demon. 

What could “fuck like a demon” look like on an often all ages game streaming platform, though? Well, not all ages. Some streams are only accessible to registered users over the age of 18. Usually the age filter is there because the game is super graphic, or the streamer is a sex educator or swears so much the algorithm has started penalizing them. A few times though, you’ve seen some streamers playing games that are so raunchy they’re basically porn. And porn versions of those games exist, but to keep some of them streamer-friendly, they also sell versions that don’t have uncensored anime girls receiving creampies. That would definitely maintain the brand without going too far, right? 

You open your phone, typing in some of the titles of games, mostly dating simulators you’ve seen other streamers play before, and then you stumble across one called MiCamStudio, a puzzle game with the plot where you’re the manager of a camgirl enterprise and your goal is to become the most successful, richest entrepreneur while keeping your girls happy. 

You laugh. It feels a bit on the nose, but a fun way to shake things up in an after-dark concept. And it’s not too expensive, which means if this entire plan bombs, you won’t have invested much into it. Fine, you’ll do it. 

Wonwoo responds right away after you shoot a quick message with your idea to your mods on discord to help them prepare. 

On it. 

With a deep breath, you start to get ready. 

As you brace yourself to come back from your short bio break and announcement, your heart is hammering in your ears. What if everyone left? What if things get weird or gross or you think you’re being kind of sexy and cute but are really just being an idiot? 

Suddenly, this entire idea seems so stupid. What if your mom decides this is finally the time she wants to watch you stream? She hasn’t ever had the interest to, but what if she finally thinks to herself on a random Saturday night in February, “Wow, I sure do crave watching some video game streams! Say, I know my daughter Y/N streams. I should check it out!” or worse, what if someone she knows sends one of the clips or a screenshot of you with your tits practically out? 

Your anxiety is starting to win in this battle, and as you pace back and forth in front of your computer, shaking your clammy hands and trying to remember how to breathe, you see the number of viewers has dropped since the stream moved from all ages to 18+. Which means that you can now read your chat again. 

The comments are actually really supportive. Among them are some of your mods cheering you on, but one username anchors you back into your chair as you watch the notification dance across the screen. 

JokeJinSeokjin has subscribed for 3x months!

Seokjin. Seokjin is live and watching you. Which you expect to be the thing that will throw you over the edge. Seokjin, your boss. Your kind of friend. Your crush. The man who you are trying to emulate in this attempt to be sexy and earn more money and confidence. 

Surprisingly, a warm glow of comfort settles in you stomach instead. Because while maybe in all of this mess there’s plenty to be anxious about, you feel a part of you that’s determined to make him proud, to show him in this rejection what he’s missing out on. You take a deep breath to steady yourself as you hit the button to come back. 

“Ah, hello! I mean-um, hello,” you catch the nervousness pouring out of your shaky voice and clear your throat, trying to sound more composed. 

“I wanted to try something new today. Well, tonight. Welcome to Spring Night Streams, where I’ll be playing some not safe for work in more of a raunchy way type of games. Because as we know if there’s blood and guts and horror, it’s all ages! But boobs, those are a no no!”

You shakily laugh and suck your lip into your teeth. The taste of your lipstick laths over your tongue and you try not to think about how messy you just made it look. Or how you might now have lipstick on your teeth to really add an effect of clownery to your poor jokes. 

“I’m going to play this game? It came out a few years ago, but it’s a puzzle game called MiCamStudio. Maybe some of you have played it. But uh, yeah if you don’t like things like that I can always um…well I’ll just try it and see…” you trail off and nervously fidget with your controls as you open the game. 

Whatever you were expecting out of a dating simulator type game where you were in charge of cam girls, it wasn’t this. When you open the menu to start a new game, the animation that loads after you click “Start Streaming” is dozens of bra-clad boobs bouncing across the screen as it transitions you to the story line menu. 

Jesus Christ. Heat floods your cheeks. This somehow feels worse than the time your earbuds died and you didn’t notice that the audiobook of a very spicy holiday romance you were listening to wasn’t coming through them, but your phone. On the bus. And to make matters worse, you were at a part where the narrator was very generously providing sound effects and moans for the main character as she participated in an orgy with triple penetration. Yikes. 

You begin the walk-through of the storyline, greeted by Candy, a pink haired, busty camgirl who is looking to expand her horizons in the business. As you tap through the prompts, Candy starts to become less dressed, abandoning her already tiny skirt and crop top combo for a barely-there set of lingerie that covers just her nipples and vagina. 

“I need your help!” Candy pouts, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I need 400 new fans for my business or else I’ll be out of work! Quick, use this magic wand as you solve puzzles to help me get closer to my goal!” 

The wand is, of course, a vibrator. When you play through the first level tutorial and are prompted to use the wand, it vibrates the blocks, shifting them into new positions on the screen to match colors together. If you get enough combos, she has a giant orgasm, which increases her fans so you can pass to the next level. 

As you work through some of the first few levels, you notice that your view count has recovered somewhat from earlier, though the comments are kind of off-putting. Not because people are being sexually inappropriate, but because they’re mad you’re not interacting with them. 

NGL I thought this was going to be more fun and naughty. 

Yeah now she’s not even talking to us at all. 

I miss when she was bad at games and it was at least interesting. 

Someone come get me if she starts moaning again like she did earlier. 

Fuck. You are fucking this up. And your viewers are right, you haven’t been talking to them. Or really doing anything but playing the game and trying not to wince from embarrassment every time Candy moans as you make her a star. 

There’s got to be something you can do. You think about Seokjin again, who you’re not sure is still watching, but you hope some of that confident edge he had last night starts to come over you, too. What was it that he did to keep everyone engaged? 

He gave them incentive. A goal. He didn’t have to say much to them but tell them what to do and they happily did it. And that also took the pressure off of him to keep talking. 

With a deep breath, you test the waters. “Oh, you wanted more fun and naughty? Well, you didn’t really work for it did you?” 

You hate the words as they come from your mouth, but they have an immediate result. 

Loyal2You tipped 1600 points. What do you need us to do to earn it?

Your face burns hot, and you sip some water to try and cool yourself, playing it off as nonchalance rather than anxiety. You feel your stomach threatening to lurch into your throat as you force out the next sentence.  

“Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe you need to show me what I need,” you smirk. You really don’t know. Money? Subs? People not questioning you? This to be over?

LongJohn69 gifted 10 subs. Maybe this will help? 😉

“Well, it’s a start. Thanks for the sub,” you giggle, forcing yourself to relax into your chair. 

“Hmm, what can I give you all as a reward? I feel like I could really use some cute new clothes that I can wear for you next stream if you help me?” 

Your voice is softened and the pitch is a bit higher. Maybe Candy’s baby voice is having an impact on you from the game, because your normal, even paced tone is taking a turn. Is this the persona you’ve been trying to find? 

But you need this money. School, your future. You can’t just keep living the way you have been. 

7DaysAWeek tipped 10,000 points. Please, say “thank you 7 days” in that adorable whiny voice, baby. I’ll double tip if you do.

You freeze. 20,000 points is $200. All for you to say something so simple and stupid? 

God, but it doesn’t feel right to do it. You could ignore it, you think. And walk away with $100 before your commission rate is taken out. Which will end up being nothing, you realize.

“Oh, hmm.” You pause and then just do it. “Okay. Thank you 7 Days for the points. I really appreciate it.” You drum up the dramatics, eliciting some horrible, embarrassing baby voice that makes your vowels stringy and weak. 

Yuck. More requests pour in, people eager to get you to recite some innocent seeming phrases that you know are fodder for their spank bank. 

You see a tiny notification flash in the bottom right corner: a private message from Wonwoo. 

Y/N, you could get into deep shit if you aren’t careful. This could potentially violate your terms of service. 

You frown at the message but nod to let him know you read it. 

“Okay, well, I think it’s time we get back to the game!” You awkwardly divert your attention back to the screen, letting Candy’s moans fill the silence as you ignore the new requests and subs for the rest of your stream, too humiliated to think about what they could be saying.

After you end your stream, you feel the damn of tears that was welling your eyes for the last half hour spill. 

What a fucking disaster. What started as a hopeful night turned out to be one of your most streamed yet somehow also least successful broadcasts. The rush of viewers at the start provided you with a great boost, but after you didn’t engage again with the requests, your views, subs, and points plummeted, leaving you with a very slim payout for the day. This wouldn’t be much of anything for your bills once commission is taken. 

You don’t know how people do this. You feel like absolutely dog shit, and you even wrapped early, pretending that you were sick. But maybe you also aren’t really pretending, your stomach feels knotted and sour. 

Something about that felt wrong, but you don’t really understand why. It’s not like you’re prudish or fear sex. On any given day those kinds of requests stack up by the hundreds. But maybe it’s because tonight you finally peeled back the dismissive layer and let them in that has you feeling vulnerable and honestly, a little dirty. 

You wipe some stray tears from your eyes, stretching across the desk to grab your phone and pull it off of do not disturb mode. You see a few texts from Seokjin that he sent while you were streaming. 

Seokjin (8:17PM): Hey! I didn’t know you were supposed to stream yesterday. I would have let you leave early if I’d known.😞

Seokjin (9:15PM): Hey, are you okay? You look really uncomfortable. I know you’re playing and won’t see this until after you’re done but I wanted to check. 

Seokjin (9:47PM): Y/N, please don’t feed into these requests if it’s not what you want. 

Seokjin (10:02PM): Call me. The second you get this. Urgent.

You read the last text, which was sent twenty minutes ago. Shit, did something happen to the restaurant? 

“Y/N,” Seokjin says after one ring, his voice strained. 

“Um, hi Seokjin. I’m just calling you back because you said it’s urgent! Is everything okay with the restaurant? Did the snow knock power out or something? If you need me to come in tomorrow too I can help with stuff.”

“What?” Seokjin pauses for a second, his exasperation now turned to confusion. “No, Y/N. Everything with the restaurant is fine.”

“Oh. Then why did you call?” you ask. 

“Well, if you saw all my texts then you know I was watching your stream. And I just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay after that? Near the end you looked pretty upset.”

The warmth in your stomach you felt when you first heard his voice is gone, replaced by a sharp, gritty unease.

“Oh. Um, yeah I’m…fine,” but the tightness in your throat betrays you and a tiny sob escapes as the tears begin falling again. 

Seokjin doesn’t say anything as you sniffle into your phone, scrubbing the dribble away from your nose and cheeks with your sleeve. 

“Hey,” he says as your cries become softer. “Do you want to get out of the house for a bit?”

“It’s kind of late, isn’t it,” you say weakly. 

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want to get out of the house for a bit?” He repeats. 

Do you? Part of you is exhausted, tempted to just go right to bed. But you know if you lie down right now in the rest of that unfolded pile of laundry you might never emerge. 

“Ok,” you whisper into the receiver. 

“I’ll come get you,” Seokjin says. “Dress warm. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

When you were little, your parents took you on a road trip to get away from the city. You sat in the backseat, kicking your father’s chair grumpily on the first day, tired from waking up early and having to be stuffed into the car with the mountain of snacks, toys, clothes, and camping gear you had shoved in beside you. Your father was patient for the first hour of your kicks, but before long the steady thump thump thump on his lower back was becoming a strong annoyance as he navigated further away from home. 

“Y/N,” your father had sharply warned once he’d had enough. “Keep it up, and I’ll take your feet off and put them into my pockets.” 

While in retrospect the threat is silly and impossible, at the time, your five-year-old self was struck with horror as you imagined him sawing your feet off like the patients who were out in the snow for too long in that medical TV show you saw at your grandparents’ house once.

You’d tucked your feet underneath you until you were at a rest stop, where picnic tables and a small garden scape awaited you, filled with native wildflowers and lazy, fat bees that hovered from flower to flower. 

Your mother smoothed your hair with her hand, guiding you through the garden as your father bought your lunches from inside the building. 

“He didn’t mean it,” she’d said softly, feathering the tips of your hair across your cheek. Goosebumps prickled along your arms and you shivered, even though the sun was heavy and hot on top of you that day. “No one will take your feet from you.” 

You’d hugged her tightly then, still unsure as to why someone would try to take your feet from you. Your tapping in the car was mostly to keep you from feeling like you were going to be sick, but back then you didn’t really have the words to express yourself. 

When your father returned, he wordlessly placed your meal in front of you, including a large, fudgy cookie for dessert. Your father had always been proud, and even then when he didn’t apologize to you and promise he wouldn’t saw off your feet, being given a dessert was as good as any apology. 

He smiled when you licked the smudged chocolate off your fingers, eventually tutting impatiently so your mother would take you to the bathroom to wash up. Afterwards, you found him looking at a map on the building’s outside wall, with a bright cherry red You Are Here sticker signifying where in this confusing picture you were supposed to be. 

“There’s an observation point a few stops away from here. It’s supposed to be a really nice view over a valley. Y/N, do you want to be our navigator for those and help me decide when we should stop to look?” 

Laced in there was his apology. An opportunity at redemption, connection. You’d nodded instantly and scrambled back into the car, no longer upset about having to share your space in the backseat with all the cargo, ready to take on your role as your father’s co-pilot. 

You visited every observation point along that freeway that trip, all the way from the rest stop to the campground in some rural village. Some of the spots were lackluster, now overgrown and showing a view of a wall of trees and bushes and not some regal cavern or farmland below. But there were also the ones that, had you never insisted on visiting, you would have never seen half as much of the flora and fauna you’d expected to see on your camping trip. And it was the one major trip your family had ever had that made you all feel like a collective unit, ready to fight against the forces of grumpiness or foot-sawers together.

From that point on, whenever you saw the sign marker, you couldn’t help but feel a smile bloom on your face, which is why at this moment you are sitting next to Seokjin in his car, bundled up and stupidly beaming at him as he mirrors a happy but confused smirk back at you.

When he’d picked you up, Seokjin didn’t say much, just started driving north, through your neighborhood and into the rolling hills outside of the city. While this morning’s snow still clings to the trees and rooftops of some hillside buildings, surprisingly, the plows have done a good job of ensuring the road is safe and salted. You can feel the tense knots in your shoulders starting to lessen a little just from the feeling of being somewhere else for a while.

As you weave up the mountain side, toward the observation point, you gasp. 

“What?” he asks. “What’s wrong?’ His eyes bulge from his head. 

“It’s just that, I love observation points,” you say sheepishly, not sure if you should divulge your entire story. 

Seokjin nods, thoughtful. “I like to come up here sometimes when I’ve had a really bad day. Just need to clear my head. Seemed like you needed to do that too.” The car curves along the bend, some of the wind fluttering clods of snow from the trees and onto the road. 

“Yeah, I do…” You trail off, letting him take you higher into the mountain before pulling into the observation point. This one has some small cafés and despite the late hour and snowfall, there are still quite a few cars parked in the lot, some sets of families and couples strolling around with warm drinks and peering out onto the twinkling, snow-covered city below. 

“How’s your head,” he asks gently, and it takes you a minute to remember what he’s referring to. You touch the make-up covered bruise and shrug.

 “Eh, it’s not so bad.” Truly, as the day wears on, you are feeling a bit tender, but the swelling has gone down, and your worry has gone with it. 

Seokjin opens your door for you, ever the gentleman, and you try to fight off the harsh tug in your chest that likens this behavior to a date. 

The two of you head over toward one of the lookout points, leaning against the rail posts. You take in the rolling hills below, how soft and plush the city looks now, almost like it could never be a place where you feel sadness or loneliness. You sigh. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Seokjin begins gently, “but I was wondering what happened during your stream tonight.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you assure him. 

Maybe this conversation would feel more uncomfortable if you didn’t already feel so awful. You are just trying to feel a little bit better about this whole ordeal. Trying to find in you some nugget of comfort to ensure a more stable future. And hell, Seokjin had made it seem so easy. But now, you are humiliated. You aren’t sure how you are going to go live again and go back to how things were before when the internet is probably making a giant laughing stock of you, or fetishizing you. You’re not sure which one is worse. 

“So, I know when we used to be, um, friends, I had mentioned to you that streaming is something I fell into. And as you also know from working with me, I don’t have the best social skills. Or I can, maybe, I don’t know. Anyway, I haven’t been liking it that much, really. Mostly because people in the chat always ask really personal questions about me and it feels weird. Like they’re real people but they can’t be real, to me. Does that make sense?”

He nods once, urging you to continue. 

“Right, so, in all of this, I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it more fun for me. And last night I saw you-YouTuber. I saw this YouTube streamer and on his stream he just seemed so cool, and smart. And he was able to both stay engaged without telling everyone everything and had distance. But he also was kind of domin-strong, he was just really good at telling people to meet goals and incentives. And it worked, they did it. I thought, maybe this could help me be better at this so I don’t hate it so much. I could make some persona, do something different that helps me better enjoy it or make more money. I don’t know. It seems stupid now when I think about it.”

“It’s not stupid, Y/N,” Seokjin says, turning to you. Your eyes flit to his face. His nose is pinkish from the cold, and his broad shoulders are tightly bound up to his ears to avoid the chill from spreading. 

“Of course you should like streaming, but if you don’t, if this isn’t the formula that works for you, then maybe you should try something different to help you.”

“How do you do it?” you ask, realizing too late what you are saying. 

Seokjin freezes. “Do what?”

“Um, how do you maintain confidence all the time? Like at work and stuff.”

Seokjin scoffs. “I don’t. You know that. Weren’t you just with me last week when I was bowing and spluttering like an idiot to Mrs. Yoon because that one repair man backed his car over her potted azalea? I was anything but confident then.” 

You fight a soft smile. Seokjin had been trying to scoop the twiggy, out of season bush into a bucket to salvage it before offering to replace it. Mrs. Yoon however, was having none of it, chirping on about how that plant had been germinated from her ancestors’ hillside home generations ago, and despite her choosing to carelessly plop it into a busy alleyway, she was sure there was no replacement that could soothe her aching heart. Seokjin handed her a wad of cash, and a gift certificate to the restaurant in an act of good faith. That seemed to shut her up. 

“You know what I mean,” you nudge. “You have an ability to talk to people though. Even Mrs. Yoon can’t say no to your mother’s bossam recipe when you charm her like that.” 

“First of all, no one can say no to my mother’s bossam recipe, regardless if I’m there to grovel or not. Secondly, you’re charming too, Y/N.”

You chortle at this. You? Charming? “Ha, I wish. But really, Seokjin. Half of that stream was an awkward setup and I thought I was going to puke. And not because of how I was dressed or anything like that. It’s so weird. I don’t really care about if people make comments like that about me because they’re impersonal. But knowing that I am sitting there, and everyone has some expectation of how I’m going to perform for them, it makes me feel awful.” 

“Tell me about it,” you hear him mutter, but he then recovers. “It sounds like that crossed one of your boundaries, then. Just because some explicit stuff doesn’t bother you, doesn’t mean that nothing ever will. And it doesn’t have to make sense. You can not care if strangers are talking about you sexually but care if you’re engaging with them and using sexual innuendos to do so.” 

Part of you is tempted to engage with the comment, to press him to explain and pretend that you have no idea what he’s speaking in regard to. But what good would that do here? Please Seokjin, can you share with me how being a gay sex cammer, which I absolutely already know about after watching you and masturbating to you, has impacted your life? 

God, how mortifying it would be for you. 

Instead, you let the comment go, cutting him enough slack so he can assume you didn’t hear him. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Seokjin adds. You shoot him a look. 

“I don’t really have much of a choice at this point! No offense, but it’s not like I’m making bank at the restaurant, and I already have chosen to withdraw from this term because of billing issues and–” 

“You’re withdrawing from school? Y/N!” He yells,  and you feel a heat of shame flood your cheeks as you see some scattered people shift their attention toward you. 

Now you were both embarrassed and pissed. How dare he scold you?

“Not from school, just the term!” you yell back. You’d made the choice in your spiral this evening, in between bio breaks. It was haunting you as you stared back at the packet of financial aid papers and billings notices. Streaming, you’ve now seen, is such a hit or miss game. And you truly can’t maintain the expenses that can cut into your work hours. Especially if you need to get a different job that isn’t streaming or working at the restaurant. 

“Is..is that where Spring Night Streams is coming from?” he asks, face flushed with embarrassment at his outburst. Your anger dulls.

“Partially. This felt like some way to sustain myself without it draining me. I thought maybe if I look pretty, people won’t just come and try to either ask me super personal things I don’t want to share, or they’ll just feed into basically the illusion of sex and pay me that way. And I can continue to play games and suck at them or be good at them, but the original reason behind why they came to my stream could be replaced with a different person, someone who isn’t so closely trying to dig into me.

“But, then I fumbled the bag, and you saw it. The viewer count was fluctuating so bad, and the second I interacted with that one comment, suddenly I was toeing the line for TOS and could easily have jeopardized my entire branding and be permanently banned from the website for sexual activity. Tonight was one of the lowest payouts I’ve made since I started. And now I know too, this could all just as easily go away if I’m not being…I don’t know. Compliant.” 

Seokjin makes a dissatisfied grunt, his breath coming out in a white puff. Now past eleven, most of the couples and families have dispersed, and the cute café that had advertised decadent looking hot chocolates is closed. The only thing remaining open is the tiny convenient store. 

You try to suppress a shiver but fail. 

“Come on,” he says, guiding you away from the railing and toward the store. 

Inside, the shopkeeper doesn’t even flinch or look away from his phone, which is streaming some sports match in Spanish. 

Seokjin places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you over to the drinks section, gesturing for you to select something from the warm options. 

“I wouldn’t recommend anything pre-made,” he warns, his voice low. “That stuff has probably been here since this morning.” He helps himself to a tea packet and the hot water dispenser. 

You browse a little and find a packet of hot chocolate. While it may not be the fancy, marshmallow delight pink drink that the café had advertised in their window, this will do just fine. 

By the time you’ve gotten your drink mixed together, Seokjin is waiting for you at the counter, a selection of different snacks piled high and a gentle smile on his face despite how bothered and grumpy the shop worker is toward him, practically smashing the food into a bag and muttering a total. 

You hadn’t given yourself a chance to really look at him before, but as he stands before you, you can finally take in how incredible he looks. While he’s wearing some gray joggers underneath, he’s elected for a long black puffer coat and green knit sweater and somehow looks so put together, so…boyfriend. 

Your heart flutters a bit and you try to tamp it down. This isn’t a date, you remind yourself, Get a hold of yourself Y/N. 

As you head back out into the chilly air, you both settle into a table outside of the convenience store, and Seokjin pulls the snacks out of the bag, all of which are your favorites. 

“You remembered?” you ask, a little stunned that he would commit all your tiny convenience store runs to memory over the months you’ve worked together and would split packets of sweet potato puffs and tiny, sweet cakes. He shrugs. 

“Morale is low. You need the boost. Now pass me some of those chips, I’m starving.” 

Your stomach growls in agreement, and you pop open the bag, nibbling away quietly. 

“You don’t need to people please to be a good streamer,” Seokjin says finally, rinsing his mouth with his tea. You chew your bottom nervously but wait for him to continue. “There’s tons of people on the internet who do streaming for all kinds of uh, stuff. And they make a ton of money without compromising their values to do so. Maybe instead of focusing on what you think people want in a stream, do what you want instead.” 

You sigh. “See, that sounds great and all, but when I tried that today, people got mad and left. Did you see all the donations trying to get me to say things or do stuff after that first one?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, taking a big bite of a chocolate cake thing and chewing diligently. “Welrr,” he begins, his mouth stuffed full, “I guesh you have to undershtand dat peepo on dee internet will always chewz sex first to get what dey wan.” He swallows. “And if that doesn’t work because someone sets a boundary, fuck them.” He pauses. “Not literally!” A blush creeps up his neck. 

You laugh. “I thought you limited your swearing to mostly angry kitchen interactions,” you say, and sip the watery hot chocolate. You wince. 

“You chose wrong with that hot chocolate. I’ll make it up to you next time.” Next time. Your stomach leaps. 

“But you don’t see it because I’m trying to maintain a professional air most of the time. But I say shit, piss, cock and fuck pretty regularly.” Like when you’re camming, you mentally note. 

“Yeah, so, speaking of that. And boundaries. This isn’t really the most professional boss-employee relationship happening right now.” You gesture around you. You didn’t want to say it, but you know it needs to be addressed. Seokjin and you really need to figure out a new set of rules, especially now you know what he does after dark, and he’s watching your streams, too. 

He pauses and sighs. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Look Y/N, I do want to talk about that. And we can address it. But before we do, I want to finish talking to you about what happened earlier today. Can we do a brief boss-employee dynamic halt for the rest of the time we’re up here? I want to talk to you as a friend right now, which we once were, even if it was for a short time. Will you let me do that?” 

You look up at him, and he’s gazing back with intensity, and also something that looks almost like desperation. 

“Okay,” you say. “For the rest of the time we’re out of the city. We are just two people. Friends. Not boss. Not an employee. Just us.” 

He smiles at that. “Yeah, just us.” 

Seokjin tried to not kick himself in his own ass for doing what he was doing now. Bringing you up here, to his safe place, was far too intimate of a decision. But when he’d watched the rest of your stream, watched you do stuff that– while he couldn’t be absolutely sure but he could assume– tested your boundaries and comfort, he knew he couldn’t just let you spiral by yourself. 

He’d been there before. During a show earlier in his cam career, Seokjin was once asked to try a more extreme kink on his stream which involved a thin metal rod that he would push into his urethra for pleasure. 

He’d agreed to try it before he’d even looked it up, and even when purchasing the equipment, he’d felt really queasy and knew he would hate it. But he’d promised, which he now understood was a fake law people set for themselves to push them past their limits. On the stream where he tested it out, he started shaking and crying, stopping before he could even open the package with the rods in it and ended his stream early. 

From then on, he had spent more time learning about kinks and BDSM. It was much more psychological and technical than he’d realized, with precise and careful movements, components of care, and more thoughtfulness than he’d ever really learned from porn or the internet. 

While he and Soon Yi had been exploratory in their sex life, it wasn’t like they’d ever done proper research when they were together. Looking at things now, he felt a little sickened knowing she could have gotten seriously hurt the times he choked her, not knowing the right placement of hands or pressure to make sure he didn’t cause permanent damage. 

Seokjin then reassessed his boundaries. He never wanted to position himself on his streams where he would succumb to pressure for money and compromise his own safety or desire. This was supposed to be fun.

The main tenets of BDSM are safe, sane, and consensual, which is hard to define on the internet. When something is leaked or found by the wrong party, it can especially compromise consent. With a permanent imprint of something existing once agreed upon, at any point someone’s right to withdraw consent can be invalidated simply because there’s a paper trail. And if that happened, then safety and sanity were sure to be called into question too.

Which is why Seokjin couldn’t stay silent after he saw you drawing breath after shaky breath after the first exchange with that follower. The instant regret that bloomed on your face as you so easily traded your comfort to make money, he never wanted you to feel that or experience it again. 

Which is why you now sat before him, the residual makeup from your stream still there but smeared, a thin looking peacoat doing a lot of work to protect you from the elements. This is why he said dress warm. Why were you wearing a glorified blazer in this weather?

He knew his time was limited with you, and that yes, he was already compromising this boundary that he’d set. But boundaries could be redrawn, and in this moment, he didn’t want the only thing protecting you right now to be that peacoat. He needed to protect you too. 

Granted, you probably were questioning his qualifications in this, and for a brief moment he considered telling you, but he quickly dismissed the idea when he remembered the video of him cumming and saying your name existed on his page if you’d ever gotten curious. Behind a paywall, sure, but it was there. 

No, for now, it was Seokjin and Y/N, friends. Us, he thought, and his pulse quickened unhelpfully. 

You sat in front of him, sipping at that awful hot chocolate, waiting for him to deliver more of his advice. He hesitated to speak more. Here you were, attention fully focused on him, and the dependence on him to get you home tonight, to move back into a world that wasn’t just you two and your own little universe, and all Seokjin was doing was considering how long he could carry on the pause. 

Maybe he would never speak again, and you would have to stay here forever, on top of the mountain as the snow began to gently fall around you two like you both lived in your own private snow globe. 

Wait, snow? Seokjin blinked, and sure enough the flakes were swirling around you both again, the wind kicking up your hair. You let out a sharp shiver, and that broke the fantasy of staying here. 

He ushered you back to the car, where now the snow was coming down in thick, heavy globs that signified the moisture in the air had increased, which made sense. Back in the city, the forecast had said it was set to rain, but he’d forgotten elevation impacts the weather, and that the change of moisture in the air also could result in ice on the way down. 

As you warmed your hands in front of his heat vents, he tried to think of his next move. It was now after midnight, which meant the road authority was probably not planning on plowing the roads anytime soon, and the accumulation quickly erasing the parking lot around you was a sure sign that it soon would be unsafe to drive. 

If you stay here any longer, you might be stuck together all night, an evil idea glinted through his head, and he felt a pulse of desire run through him as he caught a whiff of your soft, sweet scent. 

It would be kind of hot, the two of you snuggled in the backseat of his SUV, you clinging to him tightly to keep yourself warm through the storm as you used his parka as a blanket, the windows fogging up to give you two privacy as you moved tighter together, panting into each other’s mouths when you rubbed up against him and–

No. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Urging his steadily inflating erection down, he glanced over to you, noticing you were still shivering. 

He sighed. God, why did he have to get hard right now, in gray sweatpants no less? Nothing screamed “boner alert” more than seeing a dick swelling in light colored sweats. But you were still cold, and he decided he would rather risk you seeing him hard than your teeth chattering or you getting sick. 

Seokjin removed his puffer, handing it to you. “Here, put this on,” he ordered, and you looked at him, a tremor rocking through your body as you tried to eke out a “thank you”.

You began to put the puffer over your peacoat, but Seokjin shook his head. “I think your peacoat is useless right now. Maybe you should take that off and just wear mine. And then, consider getting a new coat,” he teased. 

You hesitated. “Uh,” you said. Seokjin’s eyebrow raised, and he swiftly adjusted himself in his joggers while you looked down at your coat before sighing and unbuttoning it. 

Fuck. You still had on that same top from earlier, and Seokjin could now see that it wasn’t just a sexy, low cut top that showed your heavy and full breasts, but that it also had a large keyhole cutout through the back, which meant you didn’t wear a bra with it. He bit his lip as he took in your hard and prominent nipples. God, no wonder you were cold. You were practically naked. 

His cock twitched, and any attempts he had at concealing his erection were useless. He was now definitely going to be fully hard for the rest of the drive. 

You zipped yourself into Seokjin’s puffer and let out a satisfied sigh as you nuzzled into the warmth. Seokjin took the opportunity to snatch your peacoat from your lap and drape it over himself, praying that would help conceal some of the compass-pointing-north bullshit he was trying to stave off. 

Unfortunately, you snuggled into his coat was just making it worse. 

Clearing his throat, he started the car, and slowly began testing the surface of the parking lot. It was a little slick, but nothing too bad. If you stayed any longer, though, you would definitely be here overnight. 

With a silent, sad nod to the outlook point, Seokjin prepared himself to head back to reality, where your moment of connection would be replaced by workplace congeniality. 

About halfway down the mountain, the snow surely turned to a heavy rain, aggressively battering down on the windshield and making it nearly impossible to find the lines on the road. 

“I’m sorry, I think I should pull over,” he apologized and you agreed easily, your shoulders relaxing a bit as he pulled over to the side of the road. 

“Well, we never really got to finish talking about stuff anyway,” you offered generously. 

Seokjin smirked back. “Yeah, we didn’t. Look, what I wanted to say earlier was that with streaming, you shouldn’t have to compromise on what you want to be successful. If people leave your stream because they can’t hear you baby voice their requests so they can get off, then fuck them. They aren’t the community of people you want to watch your content, anyway. Those are the type of people who are never satisfied, who will just demand more from you. Sooner or later they’ll be less kind and be aggressive and threatening. And you don’t deserve that, Y/N.” 

He sucked in a breath. “You just need a chance to build confidence, that’s all. Assuming you even want to continue doing these streams. I know you said you don’t feel like you have much of a choice, but maybe I could help you out. Uh, I could give you a raise or something so you could quit! And with school, too, I’m sure we could figure out something! Maybe if it’s not too late you could go back and––”

You held up your hands, signaling for Seokjin to stop talking. 

“I’ve made up my mind! And I don’t think giving me a raise or trying to help me with school would be a great way of maintaining that boundary we are supposed to have, remember? Something tells me a boss isn’t supposed to offer his employee an undeserved pay raise for her personal issues.” You huff.

You were right. Seokjin chuckled. “Okay, fair. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to throw everything away like I did.” 

You whipped your head over to him. “Listen, Seokjin. I appreciate that you care and don’t want things to happen to me. But I’m also not you. And you also didn’t throw everything away but that’s another topic completely, one I thought we discussed yesterday morning. Regardless, I’m getting a lot of mixed messages here and I need you to help me understand what exactly is happening right now. Are you my friend or my boss? Because right now it feels like you’re telling me what to do like you are in charge of me but hiding it behind the guise of friendship and that’s not how this works. So explain. Ideally before you drop me off and we don’t speak again until Monday.” 

Seokjin swallowed hard, an anxiousness beginning to swirl in your stomach. This whole conversation felt like it was going south really quick. He scrambled to steady himself and took a deep breath.

“You’re right,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t styled it today, and the black strands were sticking to his forehead from the melted snow. “I’m sorry. You have every right to decide. And you’d said before that this was a temporary pause. And even if it wasn’t, that’s also your choice.”

“Again, yes, you’re right. But I also don’t see why you seem to care so much!” Your volume raised in annoyance and you crossed your arms over your chest in a puff. “You don’t get to decide I’m some soft little flower who can’t advocate for herself! Like yeah, I feel shitty about what I did but I’m just trying to figure out my boundaries, just like you said earlier! So yes, I have the right to decide if I want to go back to school or not! Thanks for pointing that out!”

If he hadn’t been getting chewed out right now by you, Seokjin would’ve thought you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen, your mouth settled into a sharp frown and your eyebrows knit together as you argued with him. 

Instead though, he felt like a jackass. He’d seriously overstepped in his attempts to protect you, and guilt washed through him as he realized he was placing himself into your shoes. Even if your situations were scarily similar, you still had the right to do what you wanted without his interference. Besides, his intention was to provide safety for you, not control. Maybe he’d underestimated you earlier and how you were utilizing your stream. Yes, you were uncomfortable, but it’s not like you were a child who was set to be taken advantage of, or that you’d make the same mistakes he would.  

“I-I care about you, Y/N. We’re friends. I know being your boss changed a lot, and while I sign your paycheck and have to give you orders, it’s not like that change in role made me care less. It’s not that easy.” 

You uncrossed your arms. “But,” you started, your tone softening, “you can’t both tell me what to do as my boss and tell me what to do as a friend. I’m not clocked in, Seokjin. And that’s why this is so fucking hard. Because my boss is the one who took me up a mountain after apologizing to me yesterday for his “gross misuse of power” when I’m the one who kissed you sitting on a fucking prep counter! And yeah, we were friends before you were my boss, and that means I learned to work with you and trust you as my coworker, and we shared interests so you can watch my streams and tell me about MapleStory. We have history and it’s not something we can deny. But you keep acting like I am not in control, like I am not an adult. 

“I would love it if we could stay on this mountain forever,” you added, taking the words Seokjin was thinking earlier and making them real, “because, maybe then we could just stay friends. I miss you as my friend! And I wouldn’t feel so…weird now trying to figure out which guy, Boss Seokjin or Friend Seokjin, is talking to me.” 

Seokjin was unsure what to say, just that he knew he’d fucked up yesterday not just with his behavior in the kitchen, but ultimately how he set boundaries with you. 

“I don’t know what to do about it, Y/N,” he said weakly, honestly. 

“Can I then offer a suggestion?” Your voice sounded frustrated, on the verge of yelling. He nodded. 

“On this mountain, right now. You are my friend. And any other time when we aren’t at work, we are friends. We are not the first two people who started a friendship and had a power dynamic at work. I don’t know what happened in your past that makes this so hard for you, and you don’t need to tell me. But whatever you said yesterday, it wasn’t true. I want you to trust me when I say you didn’t take advantage of me. Was it kind of stupid and inappropriate on both our parts? Sure. But I’m not this weak, breakable thing. You said so yourself with my boundary-setting for my stream that I just need confidence to assert myself and make sure I don’t get taken advantage of. So let me start with you. Help me start with you.” 

You leaned a little closer and Seokjin’s heart beat erratically. “I promise, Kim Seokjin, that whatever happened in the kitchen yesterday was consensual. At least on my end. And that I do hold you in regard as my boss during work hours most of the time. But I can’t fucking stand if you continue to uphold this standard when you talk to me as an authority and then immediately pull a hypocritical move and try to be my friend after. It’ll drive me crazy.”

Your voice was shaky now, like you were holding back tears. Seokjin fought the urge to pull you close to him, but god, how he wanted to. 

“What you do need,” he asked and you sighed. 

“Clear communication. On both sides. No more deciding for me. On anything. If I say no at work, it’s just as valid as saying no in private, even if it’s something you think is what’s best for me. Even if you don’t like it. Because you don’t know what really is or isn’t until I tell you.” He nodded in agreement. 

“I can do that. And I’m sorry again, for how confusing this must’ve been. I acted selfishly when I decided that my position as your boss overruled and negated any of our history. It was never going to be as clean as I wanted it to be,” he apologized. 

You managed a sad smile but nodded, a sign you accepted his apology. 

“Thank you. And also, I do want to continue doing the streams. I didn’t get to say that before. I do want to try after dark stuff. Because it feels like it could be fun, could help me stay involved but less personal if that makes sense. And…” You trailed off, humming to yourself as you tried to find the words for your final thought. 

“I really would like it if I could have your help in this. To help coach me in a way to maintain that boundary. You did have some really great points on execution. And I think maybe your experience in cam-leadership and management could help me both continue doing this but also finding what I want. And I need a friend for that. Not a boss or manager.” 

Seokjin’s eyes widened as he caught the last of what you were saying. 

“Wait,” he said, trying to put the pieces together. Were you asking what he thought you were asking? “So…you want me to help you run an adult-only, after dark gaming stream?” You laughed. 

“I need you to be my confidence coach,” you clarified. “Help me learn how to say no to my fanbase and keep myself calm throughout a stream so I don’t compromise. And like, I don’t know. We can iron out the details, the idea is so fresh to me, but I need you, my caring friend Seokjin, to make sure I don’t break the terms of service again and ban me from streaming.”

He blinked a few times, unsure how you’d arrived at the conclusion that he would be any good at this. 

But Seokjin knew he would be. He did this multiple times a week, and it’s how he knew you were heading toward trouble. What if he could help you learn how to protect yourself? Because you were right, you didn’t need anyone to save you. But you maybe needed someone to show you. And he could be that person. 

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll do it.”

As Seokjin pulls up to your apartment nearly an hour later, you feel a slight sadness that your night is over. On the way home, as the rain steadily poured and the city lights came back into a clear view, you’d felt a tug of worry in your gut that because you were back in the city, your agreement to stay friends wasn’t real, and that any moment Seokjin would be cold and formal, withdrawing his agreement to help you with streaming. 

You’d had the idea in the car in somewhat of an epiphany, sorting through the confusing dynamic you’d been shoved into. It made sense to you, now. Instead of trying to model yourself after the master, why not learn from the man himself? 

Despite your initial anxiety that he would back out, Seokjin if anything is all the more reassuring, gently nudging you with your peacoat in his hands to signal it is time to trade. You nod sleepily, shrugging it off your shoulders and trying to ignore the disappointment you have in no longer being enveloped in his warm scent. 

As you tuck your arms back through your sleeves, Seokjin gets out of his side of the car, the rain still beating harshly, but he appears even more determined to open your door for you, opening an umbrella to keep you and your coat from getting pounded on. 

You try to insist on sharing the umbrella, but Seokjin shakes his head, guiding you forward toward your apartment complex’s front door. 

“Thank you,” you say as you step under the lip of the roof with him, smiling up at Seokjin, who is already soaked. His black hair is piecey and dripping down his face, plastering a few disheveled pieces across his forehead. “God, you really should’ve used the umbrella too! You’re drenched!”

Seokjin laughs a hearty laugh, the squeaky, windshield wiper one that makes your chest burn. “Please, that coat you’re wearing is pathetic. I had said dress for the warmth and you picked one of the worst things you could find. Even a standard issue blazer has more weather resistance than that thing!” 

“Excuse you, but this coat most of the time is fine. And also, I thought you were just saying it as a formality! If I’d known we were heading into a literal mountain I would have changed my clothes!” You bicker back, your laughter filling the space between you two. 

“Yeah, well, now you know for next time,” he says, eyes flickering with something you almost categorize as lust. 

You beam. This time the idea of next time feels possible. If Seokjin and you can work on these weird work boundaries, there might be a hope something comes from this after all. Unless he’s gay, which you still can’t quite figure out, but you try not to think about that as he shakes his head like a big dog. 

“Okay, Sparky,” you joke and glance down at your phone. It’s very late now, and your body is quickly succumbing to the exhaustion of the day. “I’ll see you Monday?”

Seokjin’s shoulders sag, and he sighs, stepping back into the rain. “Yeah, I should probably let you go now. I’ll see you on Monday. And Y/N?”

His lips turn into a smug smirk as the rain soaks through his clothes. “Don’t forget that you promised me a crate of julienned carrots”.

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[jackwhiteprophetic]

okayokayokay you asked for asks so i'm asking (i'm hoping these aren't things you've already answered, and for like a dissertation back because i love reading all your thoughts)

i think s7 really suffered from inconsistent writing (and a plot that wasn't cohesive at all, esp because it's an ensemble cast) do you think s8 will do better? i'm really hoping it does.

i miss shenanigans. like s7 definitely had some but i think the season was so short and a little all over the place, i feel like we deserve some hijinks (esp because of gerrard being back)

if you had like an ideal disaster arc that led to buddie getting together (i'm thinking shooting 2.0) what would it be?

also i love carlo's song

I LOVE ALL OF THIS AND THANK YOU SO MUCH. Unrelated but I'm currently feeling SO pissed off because I tried to long onto my childhood email account for nostalgia fun and THEY DELETED ALL MY OLD EMAILS.

I love to hear that people like to hear me talk, especially about 9-1-1, so THANK YOU ALSO!!! I really love your questions, and never worry about if I've answered them before because I will always answer again AND I actually have no memory of anything I say ever, so I will probably think it's a new thing every time.

Yesss so I think with S7 the writing was rushed and the filming was rushed due to strikes and stuff, and the new network, like it was all fresh and new and chaotic. They knew the things they had to hit (cruise ship, Madney wedding) and they hit those well. But in between it didn't flow very well, because they shifted things around. I think the issue started with the Bachelor (not party) crossover in 704. They had to swap over different storylines to make room, they ended up deleting an entire scene they had films and that we had stills for (which I think was someone up high somewhere which COULD HAVE BEEN A VERTIGO REFERENCE???). So yeah. Things went downhill a bit because while individual storylines were interesting, people were kept fairly separate and there weren't even really any team scenes where they all discussed things (because they weren't sure which order they'd do, they can't have Buck and Eddie slightly annoyed at each other in the background of a Hen and Chim scene bc they might swap the storylines between episodes the week before the episode airs).

And to make up for the lack of fluidity, they had the medal ceremony. Which just didn't really hit, maybe because we'd seen so many stills that we didn't get scenes of, and because yeah, it wasn't very fluid so bigger scenes felt kind of off? It must be so fucking hard for the actors to be making decisions for scenes when they don't know which order it's going to have been in.

I also think they slowed down after they found out about season 8, and they've already started writing, and I think the fact they have more time to film and more actual episodes will mean it's more fluid.

I do find it so interesting though how the fact that they only had 10 episodes and essentially still tried to fit 18 episodes of plot into that, tied with them knowing there may be new viewers and having to reintroduce characters and dynamics, they reduced relationships right down to what they are prioritising that the viewers see. So we have Bathena and Bobby grappling with his past, so the audience knows Bobby's past, and we have Hen and Chim and how their families are linked and their own family dynamics, we have Maddie's past and the Madney and Henren families, and we have Buck and Eddie, so massively and messily interlinked this season.

We barely saw Buck with Maddie, HIS OWN SISTER, this season, and their only scene just the two of them was not really about Maddie at all, it was about Buck and his life and also his relationship with Eddie. So yeah, they really really focused on highlighting the key dynamics they wanted us to see this season. Which is very interesting. I just wish they had done it more fluidly, but oh well.

I am really hopeful for next season and the writing, and I am also FUCKING STRESSED EVER SINCE TIM MINEAR SAID HE DOESN'T LIKE TO PLAN THINGS... WE CARE ABOUT THESE CHARACTERS A LOT... PLEASE PLAN THINGS!!!!!

But yeah, they never had time for filler episodes this season, the episodes where little happened (one could argue 705, 707, 709ish) weren't really filler episodes, they were more episodes that were having to tie up loose ends from the last and establish the next episode. If that makes sense? I also think they just decided this season that they didn't really have much time for firefighting? Which idk, it's disappointing, but yeah, they actually did not have much time and people remember the personal things more????

ANYWAY I AM SO HOPEFUL FOR NEXT SEASON AND I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE? but also I really enjoyed writing it anyway!!! FEEL FREE TO SEND ME ASKS ALWAYS!!! THEY BRING ME MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF JOY!!!! And yes Carlos song is fucking incredible I am so excited I am going back to the place I first heard it next week!!!!!

Have a beautiful day if possible, and I love you all and I think you are doing amazing!!!!!! REMEMBER TO EAT AND DRINK AND SLEEP AND SUCH!! and also do something fun, like if you have nice food then just eat it, you don't have to justify it to yourself I'm literally telling you to! Trust your instincts especially if they're positive ones!!!!!!!!!!! I'm just rambling now, my phone is on 5% we shall see how long it lasts!!

[saradika]

— the knight and her lady

knight!fennec shand x princess!reader

rated E - 3.7k

prompts - “can I kiss you?” & fairytale au

tags: medieval/fairytale au, soft sapphic romance, use of weapons in a competition, power dynamic (princess & knight), forbidden love, soft!dom Fen & inexperienced reader, kissing, fingering, implied squirting, oral sex

written for @flightlessangelwings’s Pride Challenge!

You shouldn’t know how to take her apart. It’s not proper, not at your station. If anyone found out, rumors would spread like wildfire. You’d surely be sent home - separated from her.

But your fingers move easily - plucking at buckles and straps. Piece by piece, as fluidly as she had put you together this morning.

(Or - You steal away to your knight, to celebrate a spectacularly-won archery tournament.)

You supposed you should be paying more attention to your host - but you can’t tear your eyes away from the knight in front of you.

The sun glinting off her forge-blackened armor, her movements still fluid even with the extra weight of the steel. Joining the long row of competitions, an ornate longbow slung across her back.

It’s been a long day. A good day - the tournament bringing in visitors for miles. Filling the wooden seats and air with laughter and music. With roasting meat and summery, fruity mead.

But still, you watch.

Fingers clasped, pressed on a knee that bounces with anticipation.

You don’t think he minds. The singularity of your attention, content to sit in near-silence next to you. A month ago you would’ve been ashamed at yourself - ignoring the King like this - but at the moment, you can’t bring yourself to care.

If he had minded, you think that he wouldn’t have taken the flower you had clutched so tightly to your chest. Plucked from the woven crown of greenery and flora around your head, handmade for today.

Telling you he’d “get this where it needed to go” in those few moments before the first event began.

It’s the last event of the afternoon, now - the morning filled with rounds of jousting, the clash of hand-to-hand combat.

You had worried she’d entered both - had felt the butterflies in your stomach when the quiet, silver knight she was seen with so often with took to the field.

But he had been alone. And had been victorious, in the end. A flurry of black slashes with his sword had seen to that.

Part of you wondered if she had attended, if that still would have been true.

The shrill sound of a whistle cuts through the air, as the participants line up. The wave of a green and gold banner as the first arrows fly.

There's the loosening of strings - arrowing flying in arcs towards the target mounds, with their painted red centers. Several falling short, the feathers quivering in the wind, most piercing through cloth and earth within the neat rings.

Scores called out as competitors are eliminated, the judges marking notes down on their scrolls. Those removed make their way to the border, to call out and heckle their friends with the rest of the crowd.

Ser Shand remains for this round, and then the next.

You watch with bated breath as her fingers crook around the string as each round passes. Thinking about last night and the ones before.

A slow, building boldness of wandering mouth and fingers. Stroking over silk and steel, soft sounds swallowed by the night.

Each release sends an arrow flying neatly down the field, landing in the red middle circle again and again. Again and again, until there were only two competitors left on the field.

The suspense was palpable, that teasing chatter dwindling down to nothing. The fabled ‘assassin-turned-knight’ competing with the up-and-coming Lord Calican - this would-be duel that would be spoken about for weeks after.

You had utmost faith in your knight, but you couldn't help the worry as the wind rustled your skirts, tugged at your crown of flowers. Fingers reaching up to pull it down a little tighter, just as the flag waves again.

The crowd holds their breath.

They fire at the same time.

There's an uproar, as the arrows hit. The judges racing to look, Lord Calican turning on Ser Shand. A pointing finger at the mounds, down at her feet. Even from here you can see the arch of her brow, rising in disbelief.

You don't even notice the way your hand drifted down, curling in the soft green velvet of the King's sleeve. Only when his gloved hand comes down to pat against yours, do you realize - letting go quickly and sheepishly.

The small smile he sends your way is kind. As is his answer, as he replies to the advisor next to him - asking if he should step in.

"My knight is not so easily bested." The King boasts, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Here, just watch."

You can just make out the argument. It's clear that her arrow flew straight and true, hitting dead center. His off, just a hair lower on his own target.

Rounding on her to claim that she had taken a step closer while firing - had been out of bounds.

There's a knowing and condescending smile, as he turns red in the face with argumentative anger. Leaving him mid-rant to move a handful of meters back. Close to the edge of the field, before she stops.

Turning - taking barely a second to fit an arrow, aim, and fire.

It flies down the field in silence.

Striking where her first had landed, splintering it down the middle.

The crowd explodes. Shouting and cheering as they all decide the winner on their own. Your voice joins theirs as you find yourself leaping to your feet, leaning against the tall rail in front of you.

Excitement and joy and something else, something honey-sweet swirls in your stomach. Your heart thudding in your chest as you see her turn - finding your eyes in the crowd.

The small smile and wink sent your way.

Striking her target, one last time.

You sneak into the tents, after.

Scattered across the open field, gathered around small campfires. It would be easier to travel back the mile or so into the city, but it was a long-held tradition to stay on the grounds the night before a tournament.

Easier to group up, to celebrate. Less mess to clean when playful song and teasing turned into drunken brawls between sore-losing, mead-filled competitors.

Lifting the crimson flap of the tent emblazoned with her symbol. Large for its size - a nest of pillows and a bedroll tucked off to the side, upon the thick carpet of grass. A wide bench on the far wall, one edge littered with fletching supplies. Two chairs and a sturdy table standing on a coarsely-woven rug.

She's there - still clad in that dark armor. Plucking the archery gloves from her fingers in a way that has your eyes dropping down to her hands again. Watching as they appear from behind the leather, as you hover just inside.

Lingering, until her eyes are lifting. A smile coming then, a flash of pretty teeth between the curve of her lips.

You go to her, letting the flap fall behind you. The tent well-light in the afternoon sun, filtering in pretty shades of red and gold.

“You were incredible.” You tell her, almost shyly. The way you had been watching had felt almost vouyeristic, but maybe that was just the winding of your thoughts, the slow sweep of your eyes.

“I could not lose, with your favor.” Fennec’s fingers work at her armor. Loosening her chestplate enough to dip inside, draw out the rose from where it nestled between her breasts.

Plucked so carefully from your woven crown, the color tipping from pink towards purple. It spins between her fingertips, the hidden meaning not at all lost on her.

“You know…” Her head tilts, then - with the sly curl of a smile, “In some tournaments, the victor is awarded a prize.”

It still stuns you, even though she gives them to you freely.

But you’re familiar with the customs. A favor bestowed, a bag of coin awarded.

“What would you ask for?” You question with a little furrow of your brow - taking those few steps, until you’re reaching the edge of the rug.

“Perhaps a kiss from a fair maiden?” She taps her chin thoughtfully, though her eyes never leave your face. Asking it like a question, though you’re sure she’s been planning this.

Sending up a flutter in your stomach, your heart kicking up a beat.

“Is that all you desire?” You own question comes out breathless, as she steps closer.

Her smile is enigmatic - her rose set down carefully on the table. Your tongue peeking out to wet your lips, eyes dropping to the pretty curve of hers.

Your eyes start to drift shut, the anticipation curling sweetly in your stomach.

But it doesn’t come - the press of her lips. The swipe of a tongue. Instead, there’s the pressure of her fingers ghosting against your hips, her voice in your ear.

“Mm. I didn’t say where, sweetness.”

Her voice is low, throaty. It sends a little shiver up your spine, as her innuendo sinks in. It had your eyes opening, surprise lingering in the pretty part of your lips.

“Your face,” She laughs, but not unkindly. “You are too sweet, little bird.”

Her touch lifts then, fingers catching your chin and tilting it towards her face.

Lips pressing against your cheek, feather-light. Then your jaw, the soft spot under your ear as you melt against her.

“Can I kiss you, princess?” She husks, “Would you let me take what is mine?”

In your head, you answer. An eager affirmative that comes out as a soft whine, instead. Another low, rasping laugh before her mouth is pressing to yours, finally giving you what you need.

Your fingers clench around steel, the heavy leather of her belt. She swallows your sigh, a soft curl of her lips in a hidden smile before she’s tasting you, licking into your mouth.

There had been shock, before - you won’t deny that. Heat rising to your cheeks at her words, so very public.

She loved your sweetness, the arch of your brows, the little intake of air. So very different than the rough and tumble of the other knights and soldiers.

But it didn’t mean you didn’t know. That you didn’t want.

A little fire that you’ve kindled in your belly, all day. The spark starting as she snuck up from the field to find you that morning - fingers brushing over your waist, the curves of your breasts as she helped you lace up the back of your dress.

“Such a pretty thing,” She had cooed, smoothing down the layers of fabric, the spray of stars embroidered across your skirts.

You had thought she meant the dress - until you caught her gaze in the mirror you were facing.

It was a pretty sight - her arms around you. You were sure your thoughts had reflected hers, in that moment.

How easy it would be to slip a hand beneath your skirts - to loosen the laces of your chemise. A thrill has thrummed in your veins, until a knock had sounded at the heavy wooden door.

Mourning the proximity, as she had stepped away.

It makes you want to take her little tease, twist it into something tangible. Pulling back from the warm press of her mouth to murmur a question against her neck.

“Can I kiss you, too?” Your lips brush her neck, that sliver of skin above the cold iron of her gorget.

You can feel the hum of her laugh, as her chin tips up to give you more room, “I’d say you are, princess.”

The way she sighs the title makes you not despise it. No simpering in her tone, nothing to remind you of your duties and promises that you want nothing more than to break.

It has your mouth moving. Pressing kisses to her armor, leaving the ghost of your breath against the cold, dark iron.

A hitch in her breath as you begin to lower yourself, reaching the curve were the metal is shaped at her chest. Gathering your skirts in one hand as you reach the bottom of her cuirass.

Her fingers are twisted in the fabric at your shoulders - eyes dark when you glance up. Unable to resist the pull of you on your knees for her, out in this field, stolen away in her tent.

A second, as she blinks - coming back to herself.

“Your dress, little bird-” She protests, knowing how much you had been looking forward to wearing it.

It feels like nothing now. Not even wrinkles or the threat of dirt could sway you.

Your face tips up as the want reflects in your own eyes, “Please. I want to. I’ve thought about it, I-”

You’ve dreamed about it. Tasting her more than just the slip of your fingers against your tongue. Not doing so before because she’s never asked, and you’ve been too shy to.

Wondering if it would be something she’d want - not knowing how to navigate this path with someone who’s bound to you in such a way that made desire and duty so confusing.

Your words are enough. A sharp exhale of breath as she takes a step backwards, the spread of her thighs as she lowers herself to that wooden bench.

It takes no time for you to fit between them. A small glance over your shoulder to make sure the tent flap is closed, before your fingers are slipping beneath her armor.

“I’ll keep watch, sweetness.” She husks, leaning back to let you work, “Don’t you worry.”

You shouldn’t know how to take her apart. It’s not proper, not at your station. If anyone found out, rumors would spread like wildfire. You’d surely be sent home - separated from her.

But your fingers move easily - plucking at buckles and straps. Piece by piece, as fluidly as she had put you together this morning.

Revealing the dyed linen of her surcoat - black and edged with red embroidery. Her cuirass set gently against the edge of the bench as her hips raise enough that you can tug down her trousers, letting them pool around her ankles.

She’s unashamed, thighs parted for you. Hands brace on the bench - watching you as your eyes drift down to where only your fingers have been, in the dark.

Thrilled at the way she glistens, that you did that yourself. Nerves and desire twisting and fluttering in your stomach like the fletching on the arrows, before.

Trying to thinking about when she’s kissed you, like this. How every touch and brush of her tongue brought pleasure you had never known. Thinking that you could do that, that you wanted to - for her.

She murmurs your name as you move. A soft kiss to her center, letting your tongue peek between your lips. Dragging against her slit, tasting the sweet tang of her cunt, unable to help groaning into her as your hand comes to wrap around her calf.

Getting more bold, with each of her shaky breaths. Listening and learning each little sound, determined to do well for her.

Finding the hard, sensitive bud beneath the dark curls - feeling the pinch of her fingers against your shoulder when your tongue flattens against it.

An eager shift forward, pressing yourself further against her. Eyes closing when a moan buzzes in her throat, hands brushing your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. Closing around the crown, bruising the petals with the force of her fingers.

“Stars, sweet girl,” She sighs, a gentle buck of her hips as she urges you, “Look at you, on your knees. You look so pretty, you know that?”

It shoots through you, as you clench around nothing. Unable to help squirming as your fingers trace along her thigh, up and then up.

A look up when she’s silent, only to see the clench of her jaw as she holds her sounds back. Trying to keep quiet, in this open field.

Then you hear it, muffled behind a hand, as your finger sink in. This part you know - eyes closing again as your fingers crook and curl.

Her thighs closing sharply around your shoulders when your lips return to her, a soft suck against her clit.

Tightening around you as her hips start to move, as she tugs you against her. Unable to help the panting, groaning praise.

“Right there, gods - just like that. Yes, my love, yes-”

Your eyes open just in time to watch her fall apart. Tongue pressed against the pulse of her clit as she grips your fingers, coating them with her release.

A moan pulled from her throat, high before she catches it. Her chest heaving as your fingers ease from her when she relaxes, slipping into your mouth before your tongue dips inside her.

Tasting the salty musk of your triumph, thinking you understand in this moment the way she enjoys having you beneath her.

Knowing that you’ll never want to stop, now that you’ve had a taste.

Blinking up at her as she smiles, a small shake of her head.

“Just look at you, pretty girl.”

Her thumb swipes over the slick that’s smeared across your lips, your chin. Pressing it against your bottom lip until they part - cleaning her from her fingers.

Disheveled and eyes blown wide with lust, tasting like her as she stands - swiftly tugging up her trousers before her hand is tucking under your elbow.

Pulling you to your feet as you frown, before she’s whisking you over to her bedroll. Kissing you, her tongue delving into your mouth as she lowers you down onto the pile of pillows.

“Can’t wait to touch you, sweetness.” Her voice is syrupy smooth, low in your ear, “You get so wet from me looking just at you. I bet you are soaked from eating my cunt.”

It makes you tremble, a heat rising in your cheeks at her crude words. A little laugh as she does just like you had dreamed about before.

A hand tucks behind your head as she kisses you. Stroking your tongue as her fingers work at your bodice. Breaking the kiss, only to wrap her lips around a tight nipple, flicking her tongue against it.

Your moan is loud, wanton. Unable to hold yourself back, as she had. She shoot you a look of warning, shushes you before kissing across your chest.

Grateful for her touches, as your desire thuds between your thighs. Completely eclipsing that feeling from before, making it feel no more than a flutter.

Unable to compare to the way you need her, now.

There’s a sweet satisfaction that slices through you, when she dips beneath your smallclothes. The moan into your shoulder as she hovers over you, when she realizes just how right she was.

How the soft cotton is soaked through. How her fingers meet slick skin beneath, no resistance as she immediately sinks two fingers inside.

You gasp at the stretch, teeth biting down on a whine. Unable to see anything other than the bare curves of your breaths, your skirts piled high.

But she leans down to look, a soft purr to her voice, “Oh princess. My needy little thing.”

Telling you how pretty you look with her fingers in you, as her thumb presses against your clit. Your eyes fixed on the teeth that sink into her lip, as she tugs down the cotton to bare you fully.

Watching the shine of her fingers as they pump into you. You’d be embarrassed at how wet you are, how swiftly she builds you up and up, if you hadn’t been waiting for her touch for so long.

A soft cry when her mouth returns to your breasts, the ache as she makes a mark that will be hidden by your bodice. Something just for her - later, before she’s tasting herself on your tongue again.

Swallowing your gasps as you squirm, her fingers pounding and crooking against a place that steals your breath. Pinning you down with a thigh that straddles yours.

Her own soft growls as she sees you start to come undone - the glazed look in your eyes. Remembering how sweet and eager you were for her - wanting to return that feeling a million times over.

“Want to make you come, princess.” Her mouth is against your ear, as your hands fist in her surcoat, “Let me feel you, sweet thing.”

Fennec’s elbow presses into the bedroll as she leans over you. Her fingers keeping their pace as your vision grows hazy. Your senses filled with her and only her, as she presses kiss after kiss to your trembling lips.

Humming low in her throat as your fingers pinch harder into the cloth. A tiny, wrung-out gasp of her name, as something builds and builds - pushing you past a point you didn’t know you had.

And then, it snaps. Pleasure and relief pounds in your veins, the thud of your heart drowning out the sounds of your cries as she catches them with her mouth.

Her fingers unrelenting, dripping with you as she fucks you through the tight pulses of pleasure. Her palm slapping against slick skin as she draws it out, until your fingers untwine. Reaching down to catch her hand, unable to take it any longer.

Thoroughly worn out, overcome with your pleasure. Unable to do more than press a hand against your face as she leans over to look at the mess you made.

Another soft groan at her cat-like smile - fingers tracing against your damp thighs as she revels in this new discovery.

“Gods. I can’t wait to watch you do that again tonight.”

Kissing away your embarrassment, with soft encouragement peppered between each press of her lips. How it slowly fades as she wraps herself up with you, curled together on her bedroll.

Grateful for the way she had pulled your skirts up and out of the way - always looking out for you. Watching over you as you doze, the red and gold speckles of sunlight warm against your face.

It’s easy to forget then, about your worries. Wondering how this story between you would end. How this love that had blossomed between you could ever fully flourish in the sun.

Instead, it’s just a glorious day. An evening to bask in, and celebrate.

Staying sleepy and content until her name is called, and she’s throwing you a look - quickly helping you lace your bodice up. Smoothing down her own clothes while she steps outside.

Coming back with her arms laden with gifts - a sack of gold, a basket of fresh fruit. A heavy bottle of spotchka, tucked under her arm.

“My winnings,” She smiles, with a happy lilt to her voice, “And here I thought I’d already had them.”

You know that right now, your smile mirrors hers.

As she leans down to kiss you, once again.

purple roses can symbolize love at first sight! it can also mean adoration and fascination with someone (& used the term ser in a very ‘ser brienne of tarth’ sort of way)

and lastly - thank you Jey, for hosting this challenge! Such an awesome idea, I was excited for the chance to contribute a fic. 💖

[teawithmagician]

To Fuck a Monster

They say that a social psychologist should be off the rails enough to investigate weird things*. I’ve always loved it. Because, first of all, I am a social psychologist. And I am keenly interested in exploring weird stuff.

*That’s not what they literally say, of course. The phrasing is more fancy and proper, but the essence remains.

I like to write kinky smut for my fandoms because sex is a way of non-verbal communication. In modern Western culture, shaped by Christianity (and other Abrahamic religions), sex is still frowned upon. The sexual revolution didn’t help much: we require sexual life to be clean and proper and held to a standard*.

*Mind you, I don’t say this to defend pedophilia or rape. I, for one, believe that we stopped publicly dismembering people for no good reason. That would be a decent punishment for these sorts of crimes**. **That was a dark joke, but I'm not against maxx punishments for these.

I mean weird things we dislike as squicks, as opposed to kinks. They hurt no one, they are consensual, they are just… yucky.

Breeding kink, for instance. A character gets off on the thought of being impregnated, maybe without even desiring to actually have babies. This can be interpreted in a Freudian way, as getting, saving, and nurturing a piece of the Other (who’s also your reflection) inside.

Fluid kinks with bodily fluids everywhere, so you’ll think twice before turning the fluorescent lamp on. Again, this can be interpreted as a Freudian thing, a recognition of what comes out of the Other’s body as good, and treating it as such.

Incest, because it’s gross, but also research shows that incest often happens in dysfunctional families so disconnected from the outside world that they feel only able to seek shelter and protection in each other — a dynamic I like to apply to Warhammer, for instance.

Bodily hair, especially on women. Considering how demonized hairy legs or pubic hair are, inserting them into a sexual scene used to cause a lot of scandals in more conservative fandoms (such as CIS countries' multi-fandom)*.

*God knows I love provoking conservatives.

One doesn’t have to be a kink enjoyer to include conventionally "weird" kinks in their works. But one definitely should know where and which kinks to use, because these sorts of non-verbal communications speak volumes about characters and their psychological issues and/or values.

Why? Because it follows the universal cinematic/literature rule, “show, don’t tell.”

Don’t tell how your character grew to become a parent figure for their tribe, so they can’t separate their sexual identity from the enforced “parental” role. Show it.

— All Uruks must breed and multiply, so we are not wiped from the face of the earth. But you—I will take you for myself.

— Isn’t it selfish to want me only for yourself, to enjoy each other every night? — she whispered in his ear, pressing her body against his, feeling the sweet shudder of his response.

— My life belongs to my children. But even I can desire one of my daughters for myself, — he murmured in reply.

սիրտ, Rings of Power fandom

2. Don’t tell how your character grew up in a dysfunctional family with an absent and emotionally distant father who fostered rivalry between siblings, appointed “favourites,” and did his best to disconnect you from anyone outside, so you could only rely on your blood. Show it.

“I'll kill myself if Father insists we separate,” she says with grim desperation. “I can't live like this. And nobody can make me.”

Horus stiffens, his hold on her tightening. Just the thought of her harming herself scares him. He grabs her chin and forces her to look at him, his demeanor almost dark, a hint of anger in his eyes.

“Don't even say that. If our father wants to separate us, I won't allow it. I won't let him. You're mine, and you are not killing yourself, no matter what he says.”

Tragedy, WH40k fandom

3. Don’t tell how your character is striving to hold their lover close, knowing they will inevitably have to separate. Show it.

“I wish I could have a child with you, like an ordinary woman,” she confesses suddenly. “I can't think of any other way to give myself to you completely.”

He is taken by surprise by her words. He takes a moment to answer, his hand caressing her stomach, his head resting against hers. His voice becomes more vulnerable than usual.

“You know it’s the only thing I can’t give you. You were born from the love between higher beings, but we're Primarchs, the Emperor's heirs. We aren’t supposed to reproduce.”

“Malcador can do something about that,” she says in a suddenly harsh tone. “I don’t care what. I want to carry your seed inside me.”

Tragedy, WH40k fandom

Mind you, I use my fics as examples not because I’m that good. No, I just show how I do it so you can do it better.

But again, why? Because writing sexual scenes is hard, and writing believable sexual scenes is even harder.

I remember once I wrote a very generic smut for Dragon Age — it was a Tabris and Loghain pairing, I think? And I got feedback that it wasn’t exactly out of character, it just didn’t feel… right. It didn’t have zest. It was a pretty generic sexual interaction. It would feel the same if I swapped Loghain with Alistair and Tabris with Alistair’s right hand. Boring and by the book.

Again, sex is communication. And just like a character's personality should be palpable in dialogues, it should be palpable in sexual scenes.

Yet, I advise you to take my words not as a direct guide, but rather as a point to think about. I’m barely an example of brilliant writing, just because I get carried away with my social studies often enough, and like to portray relationships as more problematic than they really are. I like to explore yucky things, and even more, to explore reactions to them. But the ideas stand:

Make your characters true to their lore in both Gen and NC-17

Show, don’t tell

[yuriskies]

The Fluid Relationship and Its Enemy (Iori Miyazawa)

Long long ago, when the skies were higher and the ocean was deeper, and the publishing companies were still publishers and not content owners, 'relations' began to sprawl between people. 'Lovers', 'unrequited love', 'rivals', 'spouses', 'boss and subordinate', 'senior and junior', 'idol and producer' -- certain "states" that occured between people were codified with specific words.

To answer 'what are their relations?', you can reply, "they're going out" or "they're on bad terms", specifying the "state" at a particular moment. These are 'relations.'

What's important is that it describes that state at a point in time. The reply to "what are their relations?" is a static, fixed answer. In the sense that given an initial state and a set of rules you can derive the next state, you could construct a world model based on something akin to classical mechanics.

However, more and more phenomena began to be discovered that couldn't be described by it. For example, telling a very intimate couple something like "hurry up and get married" is based on a shared tacit understanding that the next step on the road of love from 'dating' is 'marriage'. But while it certainly does confirm to societal templates, it ignores the existence of a vast number of possibilities and unnamed relations occurring outside of them.

There is also, for example, the idea of "just business." Two people act very intimately with each other, but it is actually just a performance to please the audience, and they're not that close in reality. In this situation a relation just for show, one that's not the real deal, would be called "just business." 'Real' and 'business' are thought to be completely separate, and 'on bad terms' and 'intimate' are treated as exclusive. This is the classical mechanics understanding of relations.

In this system, you cannot explain the following states:

On stage they pretended to get on well, but at some point the distinction between stage and reality started to blur.

Behind the scenes they were like a cat and a dog, but even so, they respected each other's skill.

There should have been no strong feelings towards the other party, but it's unpleasant when they're close to someone else.

Despite being polar opposites with the other party, they can't help but think of them even when they're not around, to one's own annoyance.

...Something along these lines.

We need something that can handle not just discrete '0' and '1' states, but various aspects tying people together and their complex changes over time. This would be the notion of "relationship".

As a side note, even within the classical mechanics model of relations there are still some ambiguities. A good example would be 'more than friends, less than lovers.' However, this still places "friends" and "lovers" on the same line and points to a segment on that line. It's not suited for describing anything more complex than that.

Much like how modern physics is built on the theory of relativity and quantum mechanics, a more subtle approach is required to talk about the interactions between the multitude of aspects.

Even given the same initial state, interactions between humans won't necessarily display the same predicted behavior. They won't take the same form, and will keep constantly changing, so much so that a snapshot in time would be meaningless. "Relationship" expresses this kind of dynamic interaction.

So when asked "What are their relations?", a modern otaku will keep their mouth shut.

Because you cannot describe it with a few words. No matter the answer, you will feel like you missed something. Because if it's not based on the process and context of how the relation came to be, you know there will be something you just won't be able to convey.

There are relationships in this world that can only be described as "there is a relationship."

Seeking to gain even a slightly deeper understanding of them, everyone desperately chases after more information. Because, like collecting the pieces of a complex puzzle, they want to increase the accuracy of their own perception. However, by following relationships you will learn the horrifying truth that it leads to a swamp with no bottom.

Human relationships, when viewed from the outside, can only be perceived up to a certain level. Anything that doesn't appear outside can only be known by those in the relationship itself. Above all, it physically cannot be observed.

Yes, they're "unobservable."

This is an important point about modern relationships. No matter how hard you try, you cannot understand others' relationships. No matter how strongly you imagine it, based on the information that's out there, it will be just that: your imagination. And even while you're imagining, the relationship keeps building up out of your sight.

This is, in fact, the same for fictional characters as well as for real ones. Even though something crucial may be happening where an otaku can't see it, they will never know about it. This is the notion of "don't understand a thing.'

When you try to observe a relationship, you will hit this wall no matter how much you increase the resolution. But on the other side of this semi-transparent wall you can see an incredibly bright, bare 'love' shining through.

Relationships are but one of the forms 'love' manifests in the world. Those drawn in by its dazzling light, burning themselves to ashes, are the 'extreme otaku'. How pitiful.

Please be careful all of you.

[sweet-luv-club]

The neon lights of a love hotel beckon you... Will you be staying for the night? ♡

✎ navigation links coming soon! ૮꒰˵• ﻌ •˵꒱ა

. . . ♡ masterlist

. . . ♡ list of charas i can take requests for + how i would write them

. . . ♡ my tags!!

saccha.txt = text posts

saccha.png = mi art!!

🍓🌸🍓꒰ Saccha┆he/him/hole┆artist n writer!!! ꒱🍓🌸🍓

HIIIHIHIHI my name is Saccha!!! get it bc,.,, Saccha(rine) and… my blog name iz sweet-luv-club, YEAH U GET IT TJBGJHBG,,

JUST A LIL OVEREXCITED TRANS PUPPY BOY RUNNIN A LUV HOTEL ,, there r a lot of aesthetics i wanna b associated w/, this intro post will prolly change over time lol

i wanted tew stretch out ma writing skillz n i have a lot of ideas i jus wanna throw out in2 da world,, scenarios i hope ppl would also enjoy n such!! ♡♡♡ just wanted to pump out x readers for the gayz tbh,,

as much as i love reading fempovs, i want 2 make food for other trans ppl like me ^w^ and also interact w/ other blogz!!! also sorry not sorry of my excessive use of colors and kaomojis lol!!

dis blog is where i will dump all my horny ramblings about

★⋆ Degrees of Lewdity (mentioning this game alone should indicate i dont mind dead dove stuff hfbhg)

★⋆ Call Of Duty MW2 (im only a very casual fan tho lol look man im a porn blog my content isnt gonna be that deep!!)

★⋆ The Last Of Us (specifically joel content bc im feral 4 him but im also feral 4 ellie,, WRITING ABOUT THEM SEPARATELY THO OFC LMAO)

taking requests for each >w<)b !!!

♡ ┆ stuff i will write ┆ ♡

★⋆ DRUMROLL PLEASE... THE MAIN REASON I WANTED TO MAKE THIS BLOOOG... transmasc reader content!!! 🎉🎊🥳 with warnings on what terms to be used on the naughty bits, ofc!!

with that being said....

★⋆ DDLB :3 tee hee!

★⋆mayhaps some gender neutral reader stuff!! no pronouns other than 'you',

★⋆ if i write nsfw with GN reader, i'll have separate sections for when u have afab/amab anatomy and how characters i write with would interact with em !!

so the format would go like

˗ˏˋ ꒰ König with a chubby S/O ♥ nsfw!! ꒱ ˎˊ˗

♡ ┆ headcanon

if you have AFAB anatomy…

♡ ┆ headcanon for how he'd treat u with ur coochie, gender non-specific

if you have AMAB anatomy…

♡ ┆ headcanon for how he'd treat u with ur pp, gender non-specific

most of my fics/drabbles would be gender neutral unless stated otherwise !!

plz note!!! in cases like Ellie who is explicitly and canonically a lesbian i will also only write in fempov, everyone else i write about automatically becomes readersexual meaning theyre attracted to the reader regardless of gender, appearance, etc etc so for example if ur super mad i made your big strong masculine military man a cocksucker das on u, go cry ab it somewhere else thanks (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

★⋆ BIG GIRTHY AGE GAPS… but readers in my stories should always b regarded as 20+!!

★⋆ and ofc hand in hand with that comes a corruption kink BAHAHAHA and as a heads up i place a heavy emphasis on virginity !!!

★⋆ yandere/obsessive content bc im a sucker for it :((

★⋆ pet play/hybrid stuff… sometimes human but most of the time it comes w the reader having animal characteristics!! (ex. bunny reader, cow reader, puppy reader etc) ONLY LIMITED TO STUFF LIKE EARS/TAIL/WINGS THO and maybe heat cycle stuff bc im a sucker for that too

★⋆ A/B/O content and dynamics

★⋆ stepcest probably???

STUFF I WONT WRITE ABOUT... no cute format for these ones LMAO 'm just gonna lump all of them together

actual incest | zoophilia content (YES I KNOW DOL IS RIFE W/ THAT BUT I ALWAYS TURN OFF BEAST TOGGLES SJHDS) | scat/piss/basically any bodily fluid aside from CUM LMAO (i'd probably make an exception 4 squirt tho,,,, 👀) | gore

das about all i can think of for neow heheh!! btw i may like and interact w blogs that have dark content or even the content i said i wont write, please be aware of that in case the posts i've liked show up :<<

i'll eventually come up w/ a list of characters im comfy with writing for, as well as a general idea of how i would write them for requests n such!! if the character u like isnt there, im still looking into how i would write content for them :>

IF U READ THIS FAR ILY BYEEEEE ♡♡♡

[dionysianfreak]

hello dear! i currently am devoted to Lady Aphrodite and am interested in learning more about Dionysus. i love your blog, and I see you work with both- whats your experience with both of them? individually as well as together. do you have tips on working with them? sending love your way! thanks <3

why hello lovely ! thank you for asking, I love talking about Aphrodite and Dionysos. They have truly been my rocks for several years and I really wouldn't be who I am today had I not had Them.

Aphrodite and I have a very fluid relationship. She is my favorite neighbor, the elderly woman who loves to sing me songs, the gentle mother i longed for, my lover, my soother, my tear-soaked shoulder, my laughter, and everything in between. She was the majority of my emotional support through extremely hard times and She carries Herself with a softness I've always trusted.

theologically, i attribute Aphrodite to all earthly creation and the love that persists in the universe. while i view Deities like Gaia as personifications of earthling life, I see Aphrodite as the force that compels life. i heavily associate Her with the physical/material world, especially the physical connections we can form with the world and beings around us. this is why i worship Her as Aphrodite and Aphroditos, because I view the body as the thing that connects humanity to every other physical thing. She was born from the mixing of the sea, earthly blood, and divinity representing the harmony of creation. I also see Her in the unique things we can only do because of our physical body. this includes feeling complex emotion, sensuality, sexuality, gender identity, self expression, and more. Aphrodite taught me to love and express myself wholeheartedly, and extend that love to every other living thing.

Dionysos, on the other hand, is the blessing of consciousness. Dionysos is the reason we can appreciate and love the things the other Theoi gift and cultivate. He was the one who kisses our eyes and liberates us from automation. I speak about my views of Him in this post here which explain it well i think. Dionysos came to me when i was young, reckless, and naive. contrary to many of the others i found who worship Him, He brought a serious and structured breath to my lungs. if He had been anywhere close to the rambunctious and indulgent God many people know Him as, i would have flown off the tracks and destroyed my life. He came to me as a God of moderation, balance, and self-realization. I don't often see His carefree or festivity-oriented aspects.

Their roles in my life have drifted apart as time has gone on. when I was younger there was a lot more collaboration and syncretism of Dionysus and Aphrodite in my worship. these days, things are quite separate on the surface. They seem to have a very close relationship in my life in a way I find hard to put into words. Aphrodite definitely brings an airy, relaxed perspective while Dionysos is able to navigate any chaos that arises with grace. They keep the balance between logic and emotion in check, though there is no clean divide between who is which. i wish I could describe it better for you, but English is so limiting. I'll put it this way: I have never seen Their roles in my life as separate nor conjoined, but it feels wrong to worship Them in different shrines. I don't speak about my devotion without speaking both of Their names and I credit Them equally for the man I am right now.

the tips I have for you are scarce. Aphrodite and Dionysos both handle domains that are extremely unique to each individual, so it is hard to give advice when all i know is my own inner world. I would say that the best way to approach both of Their influences is without expectation or method. letting the lessons be fluid and appear as they are meant to has been most effective. my worship with Them has also been very non-linear so i wouldn't be concerned if one of Them drops off for a little, or if the dynamics shift frequently. Aphrodite and Dio flow together in a very unique way, which can be difficult to get used to in the beginning. but again, this is just my experience. i hope it helps a little ! and good luck <3

[the5n00k]

Tips on drawing scratch? Sounds like a weird ask but I cant figure out how his body bends. Is he a pillow sorta shape or how? I love ur art btw!!!

Anon you are completely valid it took me like six months to get his look just right (and even then he's still wildly off model lol) but I'll tell you how I do it! (Pillow/flour sack shape is a good way to describe him, especially when bending or laying flat) Just a disclaimer, I highly recommend you search up his model sheets and rules because I tend to gloss over and bend a few of them but if you're planning on drawing him more stylized, here's the rules I follow:

1: As with all characters I draw I start with a circle sketch, it's not necessary but it helps when drawing multiple characters to keep them around the same size in comparison with each other.

2: colored line art sucks, especially with this character because you have to make sure that if he has any overlapping parts with another character (say Molly has her arm around him or something), they're on separate layers which makes coloring a NIGHTMARE. I have no advice for that other than play around with it until it looks right to you

3: coloring can either be really fun and satisfying or a pain in the ass, again it's trial and error for what looks right to you

4: some more dynamic poses and fluid actions are super fun and what I get complimented on the most! Breaking the model sheet to push your expressions more is super fun once you get the hang of it, just try drawing a bunch of random squiggles and shapes and try to draw Scratch over them, it's a super fun exercise!

Like I said before I'm not the judge or end-all when it comes to drawing scratch so just have fun with it! Experiment! Maybe study how some other artists draw him! I know I greatly admire some of the ways some artists I know and even some crew members and storyboard artists draw him so definitely start looking at fanart for inspiration. Hope this helps, I'm not a very good teacher!

[bibbidibobbidibutthole]

Strategies of War

SELF-DIRECTED WARFARE

 

1: Declare war on your enemies: Polarity

You cannot fight effectively unless you can identify them. Learn to smoke them out, then inwardly declare war. Your enemies can fill you with purpose and direction.

 

2: Do not fight the last war: Guerilla-war-of-the-mind

Wage war on the past and ruthlessly force yourself to react to the present. Make everything fluid and mobile.

 

3: Amidst the turmoil of events, do not lose your presence of mind: Counterbalance

Keep your presence of mind whatever the circumstances. Make your mind tougher by exposing it to adversity. Learn to detach youself from the chaos of the battlefied.

 

4: Create a sense of urgency and desperation: Death-ground

Place yourself where your back is against the wall and you have to fight like hell to get out alive.

 

 

Part II

ORGANIZATIONAL WARFARE

 

5: Avoid the snares of groupthink: Command-and-control

Create a chain of command where people do not feel constrained by your influence yet follow your lead. Create a sense of participation, but do not fall into groupthink.

 

6: Segment your forces: Controlled-chaos

The critical elements in war are speed and adaptability--the ability to move and make decisions faster than the enemy. Break your forces into independent groups that can operate on their own. Give them the spirit of the campaign, a mission to accomplish, and room to run.

 

7: Transform your war into a crusade: Morale

Get them to think less about themselves and more about the group. Involve them in a cause, a crusade against a hated enemy. Make them see their survival is tied to the success of the army as a whole.

 

 

Part III

DEFENSIVE WARFARE

 

8: Pick your battles carefully: Perfect-economy

Consider the hidden costs of war: time, political goodwill, an embittered enemy bent on revenge. Sometimes it is better to undermine your enemies covertly.

 

9: Turn the tables: Counterattack

Let the other side move first. If aggressive, bait them into a rash attack that leaves them in a weak position.

 

10: Create a threatening presence: Deterrence

Build a reputation for being a little crazy. Fighting you is not worth it. Uncertainty can be better than an explicit threat. If your opponents aren't sure what attacking you will cost, they will not want to find out.

 

11: Trade space for time: Nonengagement

Retreat is a sign of strength. Resisting the temptation to respond buys valuable time. Sometimes you accomplish most by doing nothing.

 

 

Part IV

OFFENSIVE WARFARE

 

12: Lose battles, but win the war: Grand strategy

Grand strategy is the art of looking beyond the present battle and calculating ahead. Focus on your ultimate goal and plot to reach it.

 

13: Know your enemy: Intelligence

The target of your strategies is not the army you face, but the mind who runs it. Learn to read people.

 

14: Overwhelm resistance with speed and suddenness: Blitzkrieg

Speed is power. Striking first, before enemies have time to think or prepare will make them emotional, unbalanced, and prone to error.

 

15: Control the dynamic: Forcing

Instead of trying to dominate the other side's every move, work to define the nature of the relationship itself. Control your opponent's mind, pushing emotional buttons and compelling them to make mistakes.

 

16: Hit them where it hurts: Center-of-gravity

Find the source of your enemy's power. Find out what he cherishes and protects and strike.

 

17: Defeat them in detail: Divide and conquer

Separate the parts and sow dissension and division. Turn a large problem into small, eminently defeatable parts.

 

18: Expose and attack your opponent's soft flank: Turning

Frontal assaults stiffen resistance. Instead, distract your enemy's attention to the front, then attack from the side when they expose their weakness.

 

19: Envelop the enemy: Annihilation

Create relentless pressure from all sides and close off their access to the outside world. When you sense weakening resolve, tighten the noose and crush their willpower.

 

20: Maneuver them into weakness: Ripening for the sickle

Before the battle begins, put your opponent in a position of such weakness that victory is easy and quick. Create dilemmas where all potential choices are bad.

 

21: Negotiate while advancing: Diplomatic war

Before and during negotiations, keep advancing, creating relentless pressure and compelling the other side to settle on your terms. The more you take, the more you can give back in meaningless concessions. Create a reputation for being tough and uncompromising so that people are giving ground even before they meet you.

 

22: Know how to end things: Exit strategy

You are judged by how well things conclude. Know when to stop. Avoid all conflicts and entanglements from which there are no realistic exits.

 

 

Part V

UNCONVENTIONAL WARFARE

 

23: Weave a seamless blend of fact and fiction: Misperception

Make it hard for your enemies to know what is going on around them. Feed their expectations, manufacture a reality to match their desires, and they will fool themselves. Control people's perceptions of reality and you control them.

 

24: Take the line of least expectation: Ordinary-Extraordinary

Upset expectations. First do something ordinary and conventional, then hit them with the extraordinary. Sometimes the ordinary is extraordinary because it is unexpected.

 

25: Occupy the moral high ground: Righteousness

The cause you are fighting for must seem more just than the enemy's. Questioning their motives and making enemies appear evil can narrow their base of support and room to maneuver. When you come under moral attack from a clever enemy, don't whine or get angry--fight fire with fire.

 

26: Deny them targets: The Void

The feeling of emptiness is intolerable for most people. Give enemies no target to attach. Be dangerous and elusive, and let them chase you into the void. Deliver irritating but damaging side attacks and pinpricks.

 

27: Seem to work for the interests of others while furthering your own: Alliance

Get others to compensate for your deficiencies, do your dirty work, fight your wars. Sow dissension in the alliances of others, weakening opponents by isolating them.

 

28: Give your rivals enough rope to hang themselves: One-upmanship

Instill doubts and insecurities in rivals, getting them to think too much and act defensive. Make them hang themselves through their own self-destructive tendencies, leaving you blameless and clean.

 

29: Take small bites: Fait Accompli

Take small bites to play on people's short attention span. Before they notice, you may acquire an empire.

 

30: Penetrate their minds: Communication

Infiltrate your ideas behind enemy lines, sending messages through little details. Lure people into coming to the conclusions you desire and into thinking they've gotten there by themselves.

 

31: Destroy from within: The Inner Front

To take something you want, don't fight those who have it, but join them. Then either slowly make it your own or wait for the right moment to stage a coup.

 

32: Dominate while seeming to submit: Passive-Aggression

Seem to go along, offering no resistance, but actually dominate the situation. Disguise your aggression so you can deny that it exists.

 

33: Sow uncertainty and panic through acts of terror: Chain Reaction

Terror can paralyze a people's will to resist and destroy their ability to plan a strategic response. The goal is to cause maximum chaos and provoke a desperate overreaction. To counter terror, stay balanced and rational.

[kemetic-dreams]

What did Roman Empire pagan soldiers think of fighting under Constantine and Christianity?

Probably not very much.

The Roman military was a world of its own. More than today, soldiers had their very identity shaped by the institution and people they served. Upon enlisting, they swore allegiance to the emperor and received new names as his servants — Valerius during the tetrarchy and Flavius under Constantine. Those who didn’t speak Latin were pushed to acquire a basic grasp of it, pretty much like the French Foreign Legion of today. Starting from the late republican period, Roman soldiers were accustomed to receiving salaries, booty and pensions from their commanders, not the state in an abstract sense. Under the empire, loyalty often lay with the emperor, as long as he was perceived as strong.

In that frame, Constantine never lost the faith of his men thanks to his talents, accomplishments and image. It surely helped that he was Constantius Chlorus’ son, but dynastic feelings were not so strong in the 4th c. What really mattered was that he was a victorious imperator, with plenty of experience both before and after his ascension. His CV included wars against, and victories over, foreigners (Franks, Goths, Alamanni) and rival emperors (Maxentius, Licinius) alike. That kept soldiers satisfied and himself secure on the throne. Besides, Constantine took care to associate his military exploits with the Christian God. On the contrary, his sons failed to live up to his legacy and had to face claims by men like Magnus Magnentius and Julian.

Another thing to consider is the role of religion in the then Roman military. In general, early Christianity wasn’t unanimously for or against military service, hence a decent minority of soliders were Christians even before Constantine. In the late 3rd c., you could find Christians like St. Marcellus holding even the rank of centurion. The statesman Cassius Dio is reported to have spoken of Christians in the comitatus of all four original tetrarchs. Cases of individual disobedience cannot be excluded, of course, but the military was, above all, a state mechanism. Under Diocletian, they persecuted Christians; under Constantine, they fought the Donatists and may have even destroyed the Asclepieion at Aegae, Cilicia.

On his part, Constantine didn’t adopt Christianity the way most people after his time imagine(d). There was a long, gradual process, for the most part inscribed into the norms of late antiquity. Nomenclature and visual language were preserved to a considerable extent. Separate Christian and non-Christian prayers are reported to have been taking place at the same time. At some point in the 320s, a group of veterans greeted Constantine with the traditional “May the gods preserve you for us” salute. Two elite army units, Diocletian’s Jovians and Maximian’s Herculians, were not rebranded, although their names recalled the gods Jupiter and Hercules whom the late tetrarchs associated themselves with.

With the benefit of hindsight, we now know that the dynamics of that complex situation ended up favouring Christianity — if anything, all of Constantine’s successors were Christians except for Julian. That, however, should not be taken out of context. Few have a panoramic view of their time or the acumen to predict the future, and the provincials who made up the bulk of the late Roman military were not among them. Even if they were, though, they may not have had particularly strong feelings about any potential outcome. At the same time, various (quasi-)henotheistic traditions like the cult of Sol Invictus and Mithraism were around. The period was transitional, hence quite fluid.

[batemanofficial]

word vomit as i try to parse a work frustration. stand by

so since ive been back to work i'm having a bit of an issue with one of the sous chefs - basically he's new to expoing and gets really nervous when we're in the weeds, and instead of focusing on calling the tickets correctly (ahem.) he tries to "help" me with my dishes, often without explaining to me what he's doing or how this will affect my all-day totals. and as you can imagine this makes me a little insane! i appreciate that he's trying to help keep ticket times down, but on the other hand: oh my god i need him to fuck off entirely and do his mf job and let me do mine. correctly, perferably, but im open to a solid c+ in accuracy if that's all he's feeling up to at this point.

so given that, we had a particularly busy service a couple of weeks ago and he was being particularly invasive vis-à-vis starting and finishing dishes without telling me, and at one point i was standing directly behind him holding a frying pan full of smoking clarified butter while he was standing directly in front of my hot pan tray. so i told him "hey man, you need to move." those were my exact words. verbatim. but apparently he did not see the giant pan full of boiling fluid in my hands and thought i was just telling him to fuck off? i guess? because he got his feelings hurt and told our executive chef about it, who has proceeded to dance around the issue to me and only vaguely indicate that the sous is trying to help and that we should just all get along. which if you know me at all you know that succeeded in doing little else besides pissing me off. so today another, higher ranking sous pulled me aside and told me that the ec is going to tell me that my ticket times have been too high, and that she knows it's because of the weird dynamic between me and The Meddler and basically that im not in trouble as far as she's concerned, but that the ec is going to be all mealymouthed about it and tell me to let The Meddler do his meddling. and i appreciate the warning from her 1000% but im debating whether or not to kind of give the ec a piece of my mind about all this, because its making me feel insane. like apparently the meddler is saying in his weekly diagnostic emails that my ticket times are too high, but he won't say that to my face, which makes me want to take a filet from the fridge and put it in my mouth and shake ir really hard like a dog trying to kill a squirrel to be completely transparent.

this is a completely separate discussion but i have made my peace with the fact that im just not a very empathetic person, but i cannot stand working in a place where i feel like i'll be told im not being a team player if i try to take charge of what i'm working on and not let other people take the lead on my station. like i know im very territorial when it comes to that kind of thing, im an only child so i don't play well with others, im well aware of that. however, i don't think standing around and not telling people when they're doing something that's hampering the effectiveness of the team is going to get us anywhere!! i'd much rather be told "hey, hurry the fuck up and plate that" than have to wonder what i'm doing wrong because two out of three of my direct superiors have little bitch disease. and on the flip side i want to be able to say "hey man, i'll finish my tickets if you'll get back to expo and take a minute to figure out an (accurate) all day, and then delegate from there." without feeling like the sous is gonna get the vapors about it and tell the ec that im harshing his vibe and now his feewings awe huwt 🥺. because quite frankly i don't care if i hurt his feelings, especially not if he's doing something that's throwing everybody off and making our ticket time problem worse. im sorry but that's the only way i know how to put it. they have little bitch disease. and it's terminal.

i feel like i need to tell the ec all of that so that he'll get his head out of his ass and grow a pair essentially, but i also like my job and don't want to get fired. but i also don't want all our communication issues to get even worse, because with the way the ec runs things they will get worse because nobody has the requisite balls to tell each other when they're doing something that's dragging other people down. anyway. this has just been an exercise to help me organize my thoughts so that i don't tell the man who signs my paycheck that he's being a pussy to his face. go in peace and i'll let you all know if i get fired