#i don't. want to know how many hours i spent on this

[oatmealaddiction]

Also it's annoying how often people don't acknowledge the differences in aesthetic and performance via someone's IRL gender. I'm a Faux Queen, which is a cis woman who does girl drag, so I kinda have a foot in both worlds in regards to Kings and Queens, and I think a lot of people, especially cis male performers, really need to fucking check how they talk about King and Faux Queen performers. It's so frustrating to be told by other drag queens that I need to be wearing nails or corsets or be spending more time on my look, with zero consideration for how that's the dominant message I receive from mainstream society as a woman everyday. Hearing Drag Race judges get on performers for having facial hair or for wearing clothes that are affordable is ridiculous. When Yvie Oddly wore her (frankly iconic) Really Expensive Fashion, to drag con, the way people spoke about it was appalling. We're creating this idea that the only drag that is valid is drag that is inaccessible to so many people. Like it has to be expensive, and the performer has to be thin and usually white, with no pores or texture or facial hair, and her makeup can't even look a little messy. Like if we're just out here to re-create toxic beauty standards and to judge people solely on their looks, then what are we even doing here? The thing I love about King Shows is that while yeah, it is true that I don't know many Kings who do all the padding or the nails or the hours of prep time that I think Queens are known for, the vibe is completely different. Drag King shows are the one's where people are throwing dildos or fake blood on the crowd, or fucking crucifixes, and oftentimes showing off their bodies, especially top surgery scars. There's a big overlap I've noticed with Kings and Goth fashion, and a lot of the shows I've been to are very horror focused and also more forwardly political. There's a bigger emphasis on being gritty and abrasive and unfeminine. While I love the more polished Kings, I also don't want to perpetuate this message that if you walk out in just a tux and a little pencil mustache you drew on, that your drag is low effort or worth less than a Queen who spent 8 hours and $500 getting ready. It's about what you have to say too, not just how you say it.

I think one of the reasons drag kings aren’t as popular as drag queens, aside from the fact that straight women don’t like us, is that people are uncomfortable acknowledging masculinity as a performance. Like we as a society know that femininity is a performance, with its own costumes and rules. Masculinity is also a performance, and nothing makes that more clear than someone making an exaggeration of it

[cherrychilli]

Absolutely have to know if you're doing a part two for the Eddie and virgin reader chastity cage bit, because ough! It's incredible stuff.

Either way, thank you for writing it!

Thanks for reading!

So, I wrote it intending for it to be a oneshot and I'm going to keep it that way

but

I woke up this morning with an idea for an extended ending. Just a short scene but I think that's all that's really needed. Hope you like it💛

Everything's so delightfully sticky and wet.

It's all sore between your legs from where his spend drips down onto your thighs. A wonderful feeling you doubt you'll ever tire of.

You're glad you waited too. He couldn't have been more perfect with how he took care of you. Stretching you out with his thick, dexterous fingers. Making you cum with his tongue first before he fit his cock inside you, his hand holding yours. So many sweet whispers of 'I've got you', 'you're doing so well', and 'fuck, you feel incredible.'

Then suddenly, the afterglow crumbles.

Someone's at the door. Someone persistent because they don't let up with their insistent knocking. Both Eddie and you groan, forced to unstick yourselves from one another so he can pull on his pair of sweats once more. Before he goes he makes sure to turn back and reach for you, placing a kiss on your lips that makes your body fill with butterflies.

Walking out of the bedroom, he's half ready to cuss out whoever's knocking on his door, swiftly pulling the thing open only for Eddie to nearly stagger back.

Danny Vaughn. Danny Vaughn is at his doorstep.

"Finally. Listen Munson, I've got a girl waiting", he gestures at his car parked nearby. Convertible. Ferrari red. Douchey. "And I don't have much time. Need some blow if you've got it. Dirty thing, I talked her into letting me do a couple of lines off her tits", he winks at Eddie in that sickening bravado heavy kind of way. "Aint she classy?"

Eddie's eyes turn sharp. "Fresh out", he lies, stony faced with his fist clenched at his side

Danny's face twists with annoyance but only for a moment, taking in Eddie's shirtless state, his body dewy and the smell of sex clinging to his skin.

The prick puts two and two together, clapping a hand against Eddie's shoulder with a thick grin. "You dog. Got someone over don't you? didn't take you for the lady killer type."

If it weren't for the fact that Eddie and you were together now he would have had Danny's beaten, pulpy body to deal with on his doorstep. He restrains himself though, not wanting your first date to be spent visiting him in jail.

"Eddie, I'm going to fix myself a drink. You want one?"

The sound of your voice has Danny immediately straightening up like a meerkat, craning his neck to see you over Eddie's shoulder, passing by in nothing but the tee Eddie had been dressed in a couple hours ago. So blissful, you don't even notice your dick ex at the door.

"Sure. Surprise me", Eddie calls out with his eyes cemented on Danny's face. God, it is so satisfying to see the crestfallen look taking over his stupid face.

"Yeah, so as you can see I'm pretty busy", Eddie goes to close the door, shit eating grin wide on his face. "Got a good thing going on here so I don't want to keep her waiting. It'd be pretty fucking stupid to take a girl like that for granted" he tells Danny pointedly.

Happily, Eddie closes the door on Danny's shattered face, calmly making his way to the kitchenette where he finds you going through the fridge, looking all kinds of amazing in his clothes.

"Who was at the door?", you ask him when he comes by to wrap his arms around your waist from behind. He hasn't been this happy in a long time, half wondering what he'd done to deserve someone as good as you. The other half not caring why, only vowing to become everything you deserve and more.

"No one, baby. No one important."

[asapeveryday]

noctuary #6 - p.b x tlou au

noc·​tu·​ary ˈnäkchəˌwerē

: a collection of a single night's events, thoughts or dreams

--read pt.5 here

pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

AU: The Last of Us 2 x Wbb crossover

warnings: drinking, smoking

synopsis: you meet her on the brink of giving up. she’s suspicious, too nice, too charismatic. you know you should be on guard, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and she’s eager to have nobody to be.

notes: hi it’s been a tough couple days and I also accidentally deleted like almost all of this fic and had to restart which. Made me want to abandon it all together honestly so sorry for the wait.

FIRE CRACKLES COMFORTINGLY behind you, orange beautifully contrasting with the deep navy night.

You're on your third drink, not drunk, but buzzing, all tingly fingertips and loose smiles as Nika's shoulder bumps yours. You're got your arm strung around her—a little too much pda for your sober tastes--but she's off balance without it and you're having too much fun to care.

The group is big, a large posse amongst the existing cluster or people surrounding the trash-fire. You and Nika, glued by strewn limbs, Aubrey, Ice and Caroline, who are reaching that giggly phase of alcohol intake, Kk and Jana, one bouncing off the walls and the other wholly sober.

They're a tight knit family, it's obvious as you watch them, the light punches and unintelligable jokes, the looks shot over heads that only they can compute. It doesn't make you feel like an outsider, suprisingly it makes you feel warm. After one too many arguments and another hour spent in their circle by the fire, you feel like their stares aren't so foreign after all.

They like you. They have names for your name: newbie, horse girl, crossbow babe, drug dealer. They label you with laughter and genuine care, no malice. By your fourth drink, it doesn't occur to you to be offended. They have names for themselves too, and they're not much better.

"Nah, you guys don't get it." Nika grins sloppily, squeezing your shoulder with the arm that's slung around you. "She's our plug. We gotta respect her."

"You got any on you?" Caroline raises a curious brow. Before you can respond, Kk's patting your front pockets down from behind.

"Oh naw, she's off duty I guess." Kk slurs, taking her hands off of you.

"You can't just feel her up like that!" Jana laughs, tearing Kk away.

"Yeah, back off my plug." Nika huffs, shooing the shorter girl away. "Or else she's only gonna sell for me."

"I'm not even selling." You roll your eyes with a smile. "You guys get my shit for free."

"Oh for real?" Ice's eyes widen. "Thought Paige was trading you something."

You take another sip of your drink at the mention of her name, shuddering as it makes it's way down.

"Me too." Kk nods. "Where'd you get all these cute ass clothes from then?"

"This," Nika grins warmly, pointing at your body, "is all me, baby."

"Yeah, I thought so." Aubrey nods. "Did you dress like this back where you came from?"

"Like this?" You motion to your bare legs. "We didn't get to just hang out, we were always working. You can't fight infected in this."

"Do you miss it?" Caroline asks lightly. "All the action, I mean."

The others tune in, and you realize just how interested they are in you. Still, you can't help but stiffen at the question, it was only all you'd been thinking about in the past week.

When you falter Nika fills in the silence, fingers squeezing your shoulder in quiet notice. "Bro, just say you want her to take your spot on patrol and move on." She says, and the others laugh without notice of your hesitation.

"I wouldn't" Aubrey shrugs. "I mean, it's nice to get out there. But you deserve a break."

"She's been having a break!" Kamorea laughs. "Girl has been brushing horses for a damn month."

"Suprised you're not bored yet." Caroline hums. "I'd be depressed."

"Everyone's depressed either way." Jana snorts, and the girls ceremoniously clink their drinks with mhm's and you right's ringing somberly through the air. You raise your drink to Nika's, nodding mindlessly as she catches your eye, clinking her beer bottle to yours.

You realize at that moment, through all the murmurs and laughter against that crackling fire, that all of them struggle too. Maybe it's the reason for all of these festivities, the late night joints and boombox blasting. You can appreciate their efforts to make Jackson as normal as they can. It's admirable, heart-warming, even.

"Whatchu smiling to yourself for?" Nika raises a brow, bringing all the attention back to you.

"Nothing." You bite back a grin, shaking your head.

"C'mon now." Kk teases, flinging an arm around the side opposite Nika's. You're sandwiched between the two girls, both of them swaying to the old rnb that graces the air.

"You guys aren't too bad, that's all." You mutter, cowering slightly as the expressions around you break into giddy smiles.

"I think we cracked her." Aubrey hums, nudging Caroline and Ice fondly. Jana stalks over to fling her arms around you too, but the height difference is so awkward that it makes you all laugh.

Ice takes Caroline by the hand, who then latches onto Aubrey. In a drunken line they join the huddle, arms circling around the girls that already squeeze you tight.

In normal times you would've gone as far as bites or blows to get them off, but the smell of smoke and beer against their amused giggles and warm hearts makes the contact far more palatable.

Even if it's elevated by alcohol, and your head is spinning slightly and your balance is growing off-center, it still feels good.

You can barely see ahead of you, even with some squirming to loosen their grips. They start to sway in unison, shrill squeals and laughs ringing through the air. Somewhere along the stumbling around, a crack opens in your line of sight.

You can see the glow of orange flame, the clusters of other people scattered, and a body in the middle, all eyes but your posse's on her. In that moment it feels like the air is being sucked in her direction, all of the attention, every component of Jackson's Milky Way directly warped into her gravitational pull. You feel the pressure in the air.

When you stop swaying, the others do too. Nika mumbles something, but you don't respond, You just stare at the approaching figure, eyes squinting, trying to make out the face.

High cheekbones, dotted with divets left by teenage acne and picked scabs. Lashes long, downturned, serving perimeter to electric blue eyes. Full lips, pink beneath the chapped lines. Blonde hair greased back into a bun.

The girls pause too, they turn too slow, and they gawk at her. They're sucked into her pull just like the rest of them. You're the first to break, refusing to contribute to her attention-grabbing presence, but you don't speak.

Nika breaks second, parting from the group.

"Big P!" Nika squeals, running over to her with arms outstretched, drunkenly crashing a little too hard. Paige smiles and welcomes the pummel-hug with an amused look, noting Nika's trashed state.

The other girls follow soon after, shoving her, surveying her condition, ruffling her hair, flicking her shoulder. You stay planted, nursing your drink.

Her lips move as she speaks to them, low and charming beneath their excited volume. They ask and she answers, but her eyes stay on you.

You watch her stance, a slight limp but still somehow balanced as an athlete, posture perfect, head held high. Her eyes wash over you like cold water, you can feel them drag over your clean hair, beer-flushed complexion, bare skin. She wets her chapped lips, and for whatever reason, you catch it. And you shiver.

The girls make another fuss. They trust she'll always come back, but they're ecstatic nonetheless when she does. Nika grabs a beer from someone nearby. Paige cracks it open with a shiv she slips from her pocket, throws her head back and downs at least half.

You watch her throat as she swallows before her head dips forward again, a dirty hand raising to wipe her mouth. Those who stand by whoop and holler the whole way through. They raise their drinks to her, call out her name, and succumb to her gravity.

She raises her drink to you, ignoring the power she has.

Or perhaps not noticing at all.

YOUR SKIN RESEMBLES goose flesh for the rest of the evening.

It's animalistic, you feel like prey. Paige lingers, she works the party. She dallies with every group there is, and yet you can feel her eyes, those beautiful, awful, fucking eyes on your back, your neck, your face, every expanse of skin she can zero in on.

She wants to talk. You don't have to be a genius to understand that. She works the group like a true people-pleaser, but in doing that she circles you. Watches your interactions, the way arms sling possessively around you, the way her friends claim you to be their own. And she can't even get close.

She's slicked with sweat. It glistens off of her forhead and her bare arms against the fire light. She talks to some girl who's intently gazing into her eyes, but Paige keeps breaking that contact to shoot glances at you as you talk to Nika.

"Uh, hello?"

"Sorry." You jerk, snapping back to Nika's face. Her cheeks are flushed pink, one brow raised dangerously.

"You gunna talk to her?" Nika smiles slyly. "Cusss' she's staring at you so hard it's actually pissing me off." She slurs.

"You're drunk." You dismiss her, ignoring how Paige glances over again.

"Bitch," Nika groans, "I bet she missed your robotic ass. Prolly wishes she took you with her."

"Shut up." You sigh.

"Look at her." Nika snorts, turning so obviously to glare at Paige. "She's already drunk, crazy girl. Who the hell comes back after four days out there and gets drunk?"

"Nika, stop." You urge her, but it's too late. The brunette is waving Paige down aggressively, saying, "P! Put the beer down and go take a damn shower!"

You sigh, chugging the last of your water as Paige makes her way over with obvious struggle.

"What'd you say?" Paige chuckles, intoxication evident in her tone.

"I said you stink." Nika grins. "Stop drinking and go home n' wash up."

"Ion' think I smell that bad." Paige hums, tipping her beer bottle back for another sip. "Lemme celebrate. You guys always do fun shit when I'm out."

"You're the one who dips without Geno's permission." Nika shoots back. "He's seriously gonna kill you tomorrow, by the way."

Paige just shrugs, glancing at you sneakily. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. You can sense her thinking, preparing herself to speak with you. You beat her to it.

"Where's Sue?" You ask.

Paige looks affronted for a moment, and Nika bursts out laughing.

"Horse girl only has one thing on her mind!" Nika wheezes, slapping your back. "Damn, you're something."

"What?" You frown, glancing between the two of them. Nika laughs way more than your comment should've probed. Paige just bites her lip.

"P leaves for four days and you only care about the damn horse." Nika snorts.

"Someone has to." You shrug, shooting an apologetic look Paige's way. She shakes her head with a little smile, amused.

"Left her with Ashley and Sarah at the gate." Paige hums. "They're taking her to the stables."

You nod.

The conversation dies out. A few of the other girls find your group, chattering away with Nika while occasionally including you and Paige in the mix. You just down your water, Paige her beer.

She sneaks glances at you in between mindless chuckles and jibs between words. Those looks, the one thousand ways her eyes slice you open like a machete to flesh, mean something other that what leaves her mouth.

They bleed questions and their answers, unintelligible analysis that you’re sure you want no part of. It’s like you’re being pulled through walls towards her by this impossible vortex.

Of course, sharp-eyed Nika can sense it through her drunken state.

“You guys good?” She cuts through the thick air, waving a hand over your eyes and shooting Paige a look. “Ya’ll got something to talk about?”

“No.” You say before Paige can answer. “I think I’m done for the night, actually. M’gonna head home.”

There it is again, the bumps on your arms at the raise of Paige’s brows, subtle but there, expression illuminated by the fire light. Nika just groans.

“Nnoooo…” She whines, latching onto you. “Stayyy. Paige just got here.”

“I know.” You bite your lip. “Sorry, Paige. I’m exhausted.”

“S’fine.” Paige nods, though she thinks for a moment. “I should go too. I’ve had a long couple days.”

“Are you serious?” Nika scoffs, turning to Paige now. “You’re both leaving?”

Your eyes catch hers over Nika’s head. You both shrug, small smiles playing on your lips.

“Okay, well fuck.” Nika huffs. “You guys walking together?”

“Uh,” you mumble. “Are we?”

“My house is on the way to yours.” Paige nods. “So yeah, if that’s alright.”

“It’s fine.” You nod.

“You guys are so weird.” Nika smirks, eyes darting between the two of you. “Stay safe I guess. Don’t piss in any bushes or else Dawn is gonna swiss cheese you.”

“Meaning?” You raise a brow. Paige just shakes her head with a laugh. “Never mind that.”

You shift on your feet. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah.” Paige nods.

THE WALK IS mostly quiet.

The sky is so clear, speckled with stars and wholly cloudless. The smell of smoke grows more and more faint, but it lingers on your clothes and hair. She smells like smoke too, along with four day sweat and dry blood. She’s not covered like she was when you first came here with her, just a few splatters here and there. Not much struggle, it seems.

She keeps glancing at you, you’re not surprised, just unsure how to talk. It was so natural the last time you spoke.

Finally, you meet her eyes. She glances away in a split second when you catch her, but smiles and looks at you again more clearly after a beat, accepting the eye contact. You both grin slightly at the awkwardness of it all.

“How was it?” You ask.

“Good.” She nods, “much needed.”

“I’m sure.” You hum. “You were missed.”

“By you?”

“By everyone.” You shoot back, eyes narrow. She laughs a little at your response, shaking her head.

“You’re never gonna let me have it, are you?”

“Have what?”

“Never mind..” She snorts. “So, did they talk bout me?”

“Not really.” You shrug.

“So how’d they miss me then?”

“They just did.” You state, planting your eyes on the gravel road you walk on. “I can tell.”

“Well,” Paige mumbles, eyeing you closely, “I guess I did get a pretty warm welcome.”

You nod halfway, recalling the way the world seemed to stop once people recognized her. It was overwhelming, powerful, but also terrifying. Maybe something you wanted to bring up. But not now.

“Are you hurt?” You ask.

“Exhausted.” Paige smiles. “Super drunk, by the way. And exhausted. And aching.”

“Paige.” You frown.

“Not hurt.” Paige doubles down. “Not badly, anyways.”

“Yours or something else’s?” You ask, pointing to the speckle of blood on her black tank.

“Something else.”

“Were there a lot?”

“No.” She hums. “It was calm.”

You nod, subtly eyeing the way she walks. Her steps are heavy, her head seemingly held with much effort. You can tell now that the buzz of socializing has worn off, she’s incredibly tired.

“You looked like you were having fun.” Paige cuts between your thoughts.

“And what does that look like?” You ask.

“Not like anything I’ve seen from you before.” She snorts, and you feel a slight prick of jealousy from her. “You were all smiley. N’ they were all over you.”

“Yeah, well.” You shrug. “I’m a few too many drinks deep. And you have good friends.”

“Looks like they’re your friends too.” She says, eyes piercing you like spears.

“Jealous?” You glance at her, feeling a little surge of hot confidence against the cool wind.

She chews her lip for a moment, half taken aback from your forwardness and half amused by it.

“It’s good to see you like that.” She finally shoots out. “But I can’t help but be jealous too.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. You weren’t expecting that answer either. She laughs, seeing it on your face.

“No need to be.” You manage to chuckle. “They might just like me for the weed anyways.”

Her eyes narrow. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I think they like me. But I also think we were all drunk. That changes things.”

She nods slightly. “Are you drunk right now?”

“Not like before.” You say. “M’ not sober though. Still tingling.”

“Sweet.” Paige grins, looking up at the sky. “I’m not even gonna lie, everything is kinda spinning right now. Like, not a lot, but it’s kinda making me feel sick.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope.” She hums, popping the p. You watch as she closes her eyes, head still tilted to wards the stars. “Fuck, the fresh air feels so good.”

“Paige, how far is your house?” You ask. “N’ are you good to walk home alone when I leave?”

“I’m fine.” She says with little worry. “I’ve done harder things while drunk.”

“Okay..” you trail off, worry only growing as you spy your house coming up on the road.

“Should I walk you to the door?” Paige grins, laughter a ghost on her lips.

“No need to be a gentleman.” You shake your head with a smile, walking up the path to your front door. She follows beside you anyways, tripping slightly as you pass through the gate.

“Paige, you good?” You frown, even more concerned. “I don’t think you’re gonna make it home tonight.”

“Of courseeee I am.” Paige huffs. “I always make it home.”

The comment sinks a little deeper than it should. Maybe it’s the slightly pathetic way she says it, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips. The way she says it so easily, like there’s no question...or rather no room for question at all.

Before you can even respond, she jerks away from you and folds over, vomiting onto the bush by your front door.

"Fuck." You curse, rushing over to hold back the strands of hair that escape from her loose bun. You let your fingers pull back the blonde whisps as she empties her guts on your front lawn, pulling away once or twice just to gag and do it all over again.

It's only a few seconds later that she's spitting up saliva, breathing heavy, hands on her knees.

"Sorry about your bush." She coughs out, glancing at you with embarrassment.

Those words make your chest pinch.

"Jesus, Paige. I don't give a crap about my bush." You frown, taking in her face, which is now pale and shiny with sweat. "Why the fuck are you so accommodating all the time? You're drunk and exhausted, you don't have to be sorry for anything."

Her brow just furrows, and she takes one hand off of her knee to harshly wipe her lips. After a slow blink, all she says is, "Huh?"

You pause.

"Never mind." You sigh, trying not to look at the bile all over your lawn. "Just—just come inside."

Paige's eyes widen. "I'm fine."

"Just spend the night. Wash up, sleep." You tut. "I won't be the reason you blackout on the way home."

"I guess I could use a shower, huh." Paige grins, though it's one of the weakest she's spared you yet. You open the door for her, and she steps inside like it's her own house.

You look outside at the clear, starry sky, and will your chest to unravel whatever tension always seems to build around her. Your fingertips tingle. Your head pounds. You breath the clean air, and then step inside.

THE NIGHT IS long, and quiet aside from the sound of her breathing, and the whirr of your electrical fan.

It was all sort of a blur. You showed her around briefly via the point of your finger. Kitchen. Living room. Stairs. Bedroom. Bathroom.

You poured her a glass of water, and draped your couch with your blankets and pillows. She complained the whole way through, but slumped over on the old cushions like they’d been calling her name all night.

She was asleep before you could offer her anything else. And then it was just the sound of air through her nostrils and the creak of floorboards under your feet.

You find yourself in bed, back to the mattress, eyes on the popcorn ceiling. They open. They close. You hold them that way, but nothing happens. Your breathing slows. You fingers stop twitching. No sleep comes.

You turn to the side. You put on a thicker pair of pyjamas shorts. You wrap yourself in a blanket, then sweat profusely till you strip those shorts off and the blanket is kicked to the foot of your bed. You almost take your top off too before you remember Paige is sleeping just upstairs on your couch.

Cicadas sound from outside. Moonlight is your only guide to the shape of your room. You don’t know how long you’ve been trying to go to bed, but it feels like it’s been well over a night already.

There’s a creak from upstairs.

You still.

It’s small, like the shift of someone’s weight. It pauses, then you hear it again. A creak, and a soft groan.

You hurriedly shimmy your pyjamas shorts on, flinging a blanket over your body and turning your back to face the staircases direction. You keep your eyes open, but allow your breaths to fall rhythmically.

You can hear legs shift off of the couch upstairs, feet on hardwood, and then you hear her stand. She steps slowly, like she’s struggling to make her way around.

She pauses by the staircase like she’s thinking. And then she takes a weary step down.

You try to fake sleep as best as possible, but it’s hard knowing she’s walking down the stairs that lead into your basement-bedroom. You can hear the moment she steps foot onto your floor again, and the pause. The weight of her stare, brief but there, on your form in bed.

She turns to the bathroom just nearby. The door whines as it opens, and then shuts with a soft click.

You turn back towards her direction, spying the faint glow of bathroom light through the cracks of the door. Running water from the showerhead fills the house's silence.

You try your best to fall asleep again. It's odd, having another living person in your space again. Back home, the bunks full of girls were suffocating, but you've grown used to sleeping in a quiet home since coming to Jackson. The sound of the shower running throws that off.

Most of all, you don't want to be awake when she comes out. So you screw your eyes shut, turn your back on the door, and try to clear your mind.

And then you remember the only clothes she has are the ones she's been stewing in for the past four days out in the wild. She'll have to get back into those scraps after her shower and attempt to fall asleep again.

With a sigh, you begrudgingly get up from your bed and step over to your closet.

What would Paige want to wear? It's not like you have an abundance of options, and you honestly don't think she could care less. You shake your head, trying not to think so hard about it, and settle for some thin sweat-shorts that are too long on you, and a stained black t-shirt.

After a pause, you wedge some loose men's boxers between the folded clothes. Just in case.

You hold the clothes against you for a moment, listening to the sound of running water behind you. It feels--weird, to say the least. To be here, picking out her clothes as she showers in your bathroom after a night out. Like if things were normal, this is what you'd be doing more often.

The water stops, and the shower curtains pull open behind the bathroom door.

You take a step, quiet aside from the creak beneath your bare feet, and pause in front of the peeling wood. Gingerly, you knock,

"Paige?"

"Oh, shit." She says, voice echoing through the door. "I thought I'd be able to keep you from waking up. My bad."

"It's fine." You tut, choosing not to share the fact that you've been awake all night. "I thought, uhm. That you'd want something to change into. Other than whatever grimy thing you came here in."

She opens the door before you can step back from it, and she opens it wide with no shame. The bathroom is moist. Her hair is darker, wet and slicked back slightly against her shiny skin. She's got an old towel wrapped tight around her, and a slightly embarrassed, tight lipped smile on her face.

"Oh." You flinch, not expecting her to be so close. You hold out the folded clothes. "Uh, here."

Paige looks at you for a moment, up and down, at your worn, wrinkled pyjamas, and the neat stack of clothes. She shifts to hold the towel around her with one hand, and then takes the clothes with the other.

"Thanks." She nods.

"No problem." You say back awkwardly.

She just smiles a little wider, cheeks red as she shakes her head and closes the door.

You try your best not to cringe at yourself, sitting against the edge of your bed feeling completely out of place.

There's some shuffling behind the bathroom door, before the light turns off and the door opens again. Out she comes, black tee fitting a little too perfect, sweat-shorts slightly water stained. She holds her old clothes in a scrunched ball against her chest.

Her hair is a little tousled, towel dried hastily, and slightly wavy against her shoulders. The sleeves of the shirt are a tad bit tight against the curve of her biceps. She looks better. more awake. Less like she smells of blood, more like she smells of the mystery-scented soap you use to bathe.

"So." She raises her brow, noting your long stare. "I'm hungover, but I'm fine. I can...head out."

That snaps you out of it. "Paige." You snort. "Just keep the clothes on the floor somewhere and go to bed."

"That's the thing." She sighs. "I'm awake now. Don't wanna be a bother."

You just get up from your seat on the bed, making your way towards the stairs before turning your head slightly to glance at her. "Just put the clothes down, Paige."

She sets them down gingerly by her feet and follows you wordlessly.

The stairs croak under your feet and hers. You try not to think of her view of you as you scale the steps in front of her, relaxing a little when you reach the living room.

"Do you want something to eat?" You ask, walking towards the kitchen.

"Nah." She mumbles. "Water would be great though."

You nod, quietly filling a chipped glass with tap water and handing it to her, noting the way she eyes your every move. Her fingertips graze yours as she takes the glass from you. You try not to stare as she downs it in one go.

The house is quiet again. She shifts on her feet.

You can't take it suddenly, the quiet, the lack of buzz in your system. Wordlessly, you brush past her and speed downstairs, rummaging through your bedside table drawers and running back up.

"What was that?"

"C'mon." You huff, heading to the front door.

You open it, she steps out warily. The air is thick and humid, but on occaision theres a chilly wind that clears out all the heat. You join her, sitting on the front steps of your porch. She sits down next to you, and you hold out a lighter.

Paige watches as you place a blunt between your lips and lean forward. She stalls--just for a moment--and then flicks the flame on. An orange glow illuminates her face and yours as you wait for the fire to catch, before pulling away and exhaling smoothly.

"Is this what you do when you can't sleep?" She asks.

"No. I usually thug it out. I've been saving this one." You shrug, taking another hit before passing it to her, fingers brushing again.

"For me?" She grins, white teeth bared.

You just look at her. No response.

"Makes sense." She shrugs, lips wrapping around the paper with practiced ease. Her jaw flexes as she inhales and purses her lips on the exhale. Smoke flows from her mouth into the blue night. "I feel like you talk to me easier when you're high."

"It's never easy." You scoff.

"Why?"

"I wish I knew." You mumble honestly. She just looks at you. Not with any distane, no hurt. Just thoughtfulness, the type she decides is better kept to herself.

She passes the blunt back to you. You can feel the mental haze forming already.

"Does it do anything?" You puff. "Running away when it gets hard?"

"I'm not running away." She frowns.

"I'm not judging you." You shoot back. "I'm curious, too."

She thinks for a moment. "It's temporary." Paige nods. "The adrenaline. And the feeling of nobody depending on me. I just need it sometimes. Or else it it's all too much."

You just hum in agreement.

"How's it been?" She asks. "Have you decided to settle n' play with horses all day?"

You pass the joint back to her. "I'll go on patrol." You say.

Paige just blows smoke and smiles. It's lazy, but true. White teeth bared, pink lips pulled up. It makes you shiver.

"Cold?" She grins.

"A little."

"I'm sweating." She hums. "Might be the boxers. They're warm."

You chuckle. "Figured you wouldn't wanna go freebie in those shorts."

"Nah, I like em." She nods, hooking her finger around the waitband of her boxers to show you. The faded band of fabric is peeking over the hem of her sweat-shorts. You let yourself stare.

"You ever worn these?" Paige asks.

"No." You say. "Makes my thighs chafe."

"Shame." Paige hums, but you don't miss how her eyes dart to your bare legs, at the skin that shows as your pj shorts sit high on them.

You watch as she catches herself checking you out, blinking before biting her lip and looking away. She hands the blunt back without a glance.

You feel light as air when you ask, "How come you knew I wasn't happy?"

"Did I?" She plays dumb.

"Didn't you?" Your eyes narrow at her. She holds that gaze with no problem. "Somehow, you knew I wanted more."

"Well, you made it pretty damn clear." Paige scoffs. "You seemed fuckin' miserable. And nobody actually enjoys being on horse duty all day. Brushing and braiding horses isn't a daily job. You were doing jackshit."

"Hey!" You cough, handing the blunt back as you catch your breath. "I did saddles too. Gave everything a top-up."

"Yeah, well." Paige smiles, raising her brows. "Compared to what you used to do, I figured you'd be pretty unfufilled spending the rest of your life in the barn."

"So that's it?" You snort. "You knew because the barn is boring?"

Paige just pauses, looking out to the sky as she brings a hand to her face, rubbing her mouth nervously.

"Oh, there's something else." You scoff. "Seriously, what?"

"Nothing."

"Paige." You say seriously. She half glances at you, bottom lip between her teeth.

"Paige." You drawl again.

She puts out the butt of the joint on the concrete steps.

"It was the time we all smoked in the movie theatre. The first time you hung out with everyone."

"Okay." You nod.

"We were talking about something--something stupid. Like hooking up in risky places or whatever." She continues on. Her ears are turning pink. "Your answer. Just, like. Y'know, kinda made it obvious what kind of life you're used to living."

You swallow, taking in how flustered she is. You feel light as a feather, and ready to poke at that newfound embarrassment she's showing. You decide to play dumb.

"I barely even remember that." You hum solemnly. "What'd I say again?"

"I dunno." She mumbles.

"Sure you do. It striked you enough to offer me patrol." You egg her on.

"Something about an artillery room." Paige breaks, cheeks pink. "On a table with guns. Or something."

"Oh," You sigh, resting your head in your palms. "That. I remember that."

"Anyway." She swallows tersely. "You obviously like adrenaline. I'm the same way."

"Uhuh." You roll your eyes. "Good to know."

She pales. "Didn't mean it like that."

“It’s still true though, isn’t it.” You snort, surprising yourself with the boldness. She seems surprised too, or maybe just flustered overall. She runs a her hand through her damp hair, bicep flexing at the curve of her arm.

“I guess.” She mumbles.

“You guess?”

“S’been a while.” She shrugs, like she’s embarrassed to admit it.

“Hm.” You nod. “I’m surprised.”

She turns to you now, brows furrowed slightly. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing!” You raise your hands. “Just—y’know. I figured you were…getting around.”

“What made you think that?” She presses, and now it’s your turn to be embarrassed.

“You just give that vibe.” You state. The real reason is because she’s attractive, but you won’t say that.

“Bro.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “Far from it.”

A beat passes. Wind blows a little.

“I’ve only been with one person.” She mutters under her breath.

You still.

“Azzi?” You ask. “The one on some expedition?”

She nods. “We were a thing for a while. Not anymore—I told you that already—but I learnt everything through that relationship. And we were young, so we weren’t really going that crazy.”

“Not fucking on artillery room tables, is what you mean.”

She chokes back a laugh. “Yeah—yeah, that.”

“S’ fair.” You nod, ignoring the pinch in your stomach at the turn of conversation. “Well, you never had to sneak around. Not like I did. It was artillery room, or a bunk full of twenty other girls.”

Paige pauses. She looks at you softly, those piercing blue eyes not nearly as harsh as you recall them to be. “My bad. That’s…not what I meant.”

“I know.” You shrug.

The wind stops. Air turns warm again, makes your skin sticky, the roots of your hair frizzy. Stars twinkle from above.

“When’ll we patrol?” You ask her, struggling to talk through the cotton mouth.

“Whenever you want.” She hums.

Her knee bumps yours on the steps. She hovers close by you as you both rise from the porch and head inside. She slinks back to the couch, you downstairs to your bed.

You sweat like a pig in the house, still warm from being outside with her. You tear off your pyjama shorts, slip under the covers, and close your eyes.

And finally, you fall asleep.

tagsˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@juumecca @cowboybueckers @sweetbcgs @rishofkf @yailtsv @bueckers2fudd @syraxsbigfanfr @azziswrld @hellokittyfeenie @lively-blues @surferandskater

[lilolebambi]

A MOMENT PUPPY!CHRIS AND BAMBI!READER SHARE OVER SPRINGBREAK. . .

It should've been impossible.

You still don't know what magic—or divine intervention got your mom to agree.

You really don’t know how you pulled it off.

One second, your mom was listing all the reasons why this trip was a terrible idea. The next, you were nodding along as she gave you the, "Don’t-do-anything-stupid." A week away with a bunch of teenagers, squeezed into a house that was definitely not meant for this many people. Yet, you were still here.

You like it.

Sunny mornings spent flipping pancakes with Dre, the endless hours spent by the pool with Quen, the hunt for seashells with Nick, the plotting of messing with the kids across you with Chris. This is what spring break is supposed to feel like.

The week has blurred into a slow-motion flim of smoke and cheap alcohol. Your feet know the path to the bonfire by heart, your eyelashes fluttering at Chris to convince him to pass you his cart. He always gives into you.

That's why you're where you are now. In the room he picked, face comfortably nuzzled into his neck, arms wrapped around him.

And you're definitely higher than you'd like to admit. "Chrissss," You whine, squirming. "Pool."

He doesn't say anything, too high to do so. But he releases you, nods whenever you tell him that you don't know when you'll be back.

It's late now. You got in when the sun was still high, golden light draped over the water, warm on your skin. You let time slip past, sinking, floating, drifting between the surface.

Chris is just a blur until he waves from below.

You rise, brushing droplets from your face. He smirks. "One of your night swims?"

You giggle, breath still light from the water. "Told you I was going to the pool."

He rolls his eyes, slow, playfully, the two of you circling each other. "In my defense, I was high."

"Y'still....?"

"Guess." Another giggle from you. "You?"

"Guess."

A beat. Then another. Then one more. Just Chris. Circling. Staring. "What is it?" You flick water at him, laughing as you snap him out of wherever trance he's in.

"It's—" He swallows. "Nothing."

You know Chris. He's gonna tell you.

"Everything."

Your eyebrows pull together. "Oh...?"

He's nervous. You see it in the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip, "I.... you're my bestfriend, Bambi. But—fuck," His voice falters. "There's been times I've wanted to be more."

Your breath catches. "What...? " You're not angry or anything just.... lost. "Why didn't you say anything? "

He sighs, running his fingers through his damp hair. "It was always Matt." His voice barely rises. "You never looked at me the way you looked at him." He exhales, "I guess... I was just waiting."

Your lips part. "...for me? "

He nods, voice soft. "Yeah."

It crashes into you—sudden, everlasting.

Why Chris is always there. Why people stare when he touches you. Why the kisses linger too long just to be friendly. Why Dre and Nick say you act more like a couple than them.

Why you never pull away.

"Do you think you could ever....? "

Your breath is uneven, chest tight. The air is thick, heavy with something that was always there—waiting, buried under everything you thought you knew.

You meet his eyes. There's hesitation there. Fear. Hope.

And you nod.

Soft. Certain.

"Yes."

Your hand finds his beneath the water, fingers fumbling before intertwining, a silent conformation.

Closer. You're already impossibly near, but still—closer.

Your palm finds his shoulder, anchoring you as your lips finally meet. Soft then desperate. Then inevitable.

His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you up, just enough to leave the water behind. Your legs lock around him, like they always meant to.

You made for this.

Made for Chris.

For the way he kisses you until air becomes an afterthought, until you're gasping against him, until the world is nothing but you tangled limbs and ragged breaths and the way his forehead presses against yours.

You were made for each other.

In this universe. In every single one.

( i'm in the dark.) show a little loving, shine a little light on me. — Anna of the North.

a/n: i can't see, can't see it, can't see it. just feeling my way back to you.

. . .

IN ALL SERIOUSNESS this is heavily inspired by this scene from tsip and the hot tub scene from tatbilb! they're finally together ☹️ my babas...

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @domizmez @drewswife @strnilolover @sirensdollesque @courta13 @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @y2kstarr @sugarraez @sweeethrt @moond0llie @ambi-squirrelly @wastelandzella @applecidersturniolo @riasturns @iloveduckssm @oopsiedaisydeer @sturnsflirt @cayleeuhithinknott @h3arts4nat @angelyearner @pink1man @sturnsblogs @mi-co-uk @slvt4subchratt @tezzzzzzzz @chrisbratt333 @izzylovesmatt @chrisowenmuncher @bluestriips

[perfectlyoongi]

CHILDHOOD-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who steals your bedclothes at your sleepovers. when life hadn't yet baptized you, nights spent with Jungkook seemed eternal. at his house or yours, after dinner, on those summer weekends, you and Jungkook explored worlds and universes, discovering new emotions and sensations. and of course, with so much exploring, the two of you quickly grew tired and retreated to dreamland in hopes of continuing your adventures there. however, Jungkook's peculiarity of stealing your bedclothes made you wonder late at night if that would be a friendship that would last — after all, how could you be friends with someone who didn't know how to share during sleep? “do you really think i would steal anything from you? i don't see what i'm doing! you can't blame me for sleeping and wanting to be snuggled. i'm sorry. please, please, please.”

CHILDHOOD-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who lies with you to people. from an early age you were taught that you shouldn't talk to strangers, especially if they were adults; as such, when a classmate's mother tried to meet you, you and Jungkook exchanged a quick glance and the rest was history. throughout your childhood and adolescence, you and Jungkook were cousins and brothers, once lovers and three times twins who feel each other's pain. you were born in germany and lived in panama. you were 17 years old when you were still a few months away from turning 15. you knew the president and, above all, you knew the state secrets kept by your parents. of course everyone knew they were lies, some even tried to sail those seas with you; but, to the purest hearts that trust in everything, you and Jungkook were a pair of barbies who simply enjoyed living. “we shouldn't tell you this, but the principal is thinking about expel you. it's true! he was talking to our father and said that if you kept stealing our snacks, you would be sent away. we are the principal's nephews, did you know that?”

CHILDHOOD-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who still plays in the playground with you. one of Jungkook's favorite times were the nights before school, work, life began. in the complicity that you created since you were children, you and Jungkook lost yourselves in memories and laughter, wandering the streets only moved by the happiness that emerged from your souls. but when the night was about to end, when you were already thinking about goodbyes and promises, you and Jungkook stopped at a playground and, for a few minutes, you returned to the age of innocence, pushing on the swings, sliding down the slide, playing like you used to do. for a few minutes, your life was nothing but joy and love — what more could you ask for? “i still remember when you pushed me on the swing the first time. if you look closely, you can still see the scar on my chin. i can't believe you were able to hurt me. my love for you was broken that day.”

CHILDHOOD-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who says goodbye to you with a hug. one of the habits that Jungkook couldn't seem to break was hugging you goodbye. even if it was just a few short hours or entire days, the truth is that when there was a goodbye, Jungkook was quick to hug you and give you a quick kiss on the cheek. since you were children you shared that farewell and it seemed like he never wanted to lose it. whenever there was an opportunity, Jungkook would hug you and you made sure to create as many goodbyes as your heart could handle. “see you in the morning, my pumpkin of the forest. have something good for dinner, please! i'll meet you tomorrow for lunch. see you later.”

CHILDHOOD-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who invented a board game with you. neither of you would confess how long it took you to create a game from scratch, but what you would confess, even brag about, is that you and Jungkook, at just seven years old, created a board game that guaranteed laughter, betrayal and tears. taking inspiration from so many games played by both, a piece of cardboard quickly came to life with bright colors and exaggerated letters, with several cards and dices as extras that completed a totally fantastical adventure. anyone could play, as many as they wanted, but it was always more fun when just you and Jungkook played without any other opponents and now, as you two were adults with your own lives, there were still weekends spent around that used board where exchanges of insults and dramatic falls filled your hearts with pure joy and longing. “don't you think it's weird that we haven't given the game a name yet? we just call it 'the game' and that's not fun. next time we play, the winner gets to name the game, what do you say?”

CHILDHOOD-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who knows where to find you when life gets intense. having the privilege of watching you grow, Jungkook became an expert on you: with a look or an exchange of words, Jungkook knew what you had, what you needed, what you wanted — nothing got past him. Jungkook knew you inside and out, and he knew that when you needed space or time, you always went to that specific area of the park. as such, respecting your needs, Jungkook appeared in the park when you needed him most; sometimes he would sit two stools behind you, other times he would put his coat on the floor to lay his head on your lap. there were times when he would give you headphones and other times when he would just hug you. when life got big, Jungkook helped you remember that you were bigger. “stay as long as you need. i got my car, i can take you home when you feel like it. until then, know that you just need to call me and i will come as fast as i can.”

CHILDHOOD-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who never doubted the bond you two created. “i always knew that you would be the one meant for me. can't you see? the stars are still drawing our story and all the poets sing of our love in their works. you and i, we were made to last. the flame inside me can only be lit by you and this glow, this warmth, this love inside me — it's all meant for you.”

[eru-vande]

Zutter || Kwon Jiyong x Reader

Summary: Jiyong's old friends visits him while he's being held cuffed in the cellar of his boss' rival's company

word count: 2,5k

warning: smut (hand job), knife play, low-key sub/dom interaction

A/N: inspired mostly by the MV, my first time trying to write sub/dom dynamic i'm not sure if it worked out lmao you tell me (no seriously, you tell me)

A/N 2: i'm rusty now i'm sorry i haven't written in 3 months... :(

✧✧͏✧✧

The blood was dripping to the ground, painting the dirty cemented floor of the cellar bright red under Jiyong’s feet. He would’ve told how many hours he had already spent there if the room had any windows, but the pain in his wrists were screaming it was way too long. His hair was damp, his lips chipped and broken, nose bleeding, he quite didn’t feel the fingers on his hands already and his shoulders became numb. 

Deep down inside? He was enjoying it. Everything, except his friend being knocked out and dragged into another room.

Jiyong knew this cellar. He knew it from his old days. And not a single person that was forced to pay this room a visit had a great life afterwards. Not after being hung by your wrists on the wall for hours, not after being beaten up until you feel it with your bones that the next punch would end everything for you. And not after they left you bleeding out for hours just to come back and beat you up again, trying to get the information out of you. Or just for fun.

But somehow, being the one hung on the wall, being the one who’s got beaten up, he was waiting for something with his heart beating a cheerful beat. As if he knew that something special was coming his way.

And something indeed came.

In the silence of the cellar Jiyong’s ears noticed a sound. A light clicking of heels on the ladder, the leather coat dragging on the floor, a still, cold laughter when the clicking of the heels stopped a few meters away from him.

“Who am I looking at? Kwon Jiyong himself…” 

Your voice ringed through the silence, rewarding you with a sly smile from Jiyong, who lifted his head just slightly enough to look at you.  

“And what are we doing here? Finally missing your old friends?” You took a step closer, wrapped your fingers around his chin and lifted Jiyong's head higher, squeezing his chin uncomfortably. “Bullshit, right? You were so happy to ditch us, suddenly getting so fucking upstanding…” your face shivered with disgust as you let go of Jiyong's face. “Betrayed us for good, and now what? Wanted to steal from us? Not so morally good again?” 

You wiped the blood on your fingers off with a piece of cloth, cleaning every inch of your fingers precisely as if his blood alone disgusted you.

Jiyong tried to laugh, but instead only a gnarly wheeze left his mouth. 

“You're doing better than your friend anyway.”

His eyes darted at you. “Where… is he?” 

“You know where, don't you? He'll be dealt with.” 

The coldness of your tone would send shivers down anyone's spine, but not Jiyong's. He got used to it long ago, years ago when you both were only starting to work with each other. 

Jiyong tried to move his hands, adjusting to the pain in his joints. 

“Why did you come?” his voice was barely audible, blood still dripping down his chin from his broken lip. “Why you?”

“Came to mess with you.” Looking him over, you moved his legs with yours so he wouldn't reach the floor, making him whimper from a sudden tug on his wrists. “You really thought you could just come and steal from us? Did it take you so little time to forget everything about this place?” 

Jiyong greened, laughing, his laughter mixed with silent wheezing. “No, I came to see you, Y/N. Missed your childish insolence.”

You haven't seen him for two years. You forget how unbearable he was, and how he used to annoy you being so damn hot when he was bleeding, his smile sly yet so captivating. 

“Did your friend come to see me too? So cute.”

“He came to take what you've stolen from our boss.”

Your razor sharp laughter ringed in his ears. “You think it's so easy to just take what you want from us?”

“Well, it was easy enough to take you back in the days.”

You huffed at him chuckling, placing your hands on his shoulders and pressing them down to make him cry out from the pain in his joints. “Don't fuck with me, Jiyong, you're not in the right position for that right now.”

“I'm always in the right position to fuck you.”

This brat. Even when cuffed, still toying with you. But it would be a lie to say his raspy voice didn't make you curl your toes. You did come there to mess with him, though, so maybe it's the right time to start. 

“I just know what you want most from me, you haven’t changed…” you said, coming up even closer to Jiyong, bending over right to his face. Too close but too far away. Your breath teasing his broken skin, you eyes piercing his with undeniable desire to fuck him up while he can’t do anything to you. Your leg pushing his crotch to the wall, giving him as much friction as you possibly could.

The challenge was accepted. He let his head hang loose, pressing his forehead to yours as he chuckled. “Try me.”

You pressed your palms flat to his chest, sliding them down until you felt the belt on his pants. 

“You’re gonna punish me by fucking me, seriously?” Jiyong’s voice resonated off the four walls, disappointment mixed with curiosity. “You can do better, Y/N.”

You smiled, tugging the belt out and throwing it away on the damp floor. One sharp glance into his eyes when you fingers undone his pants and let them fall loose to the ground made Jiyong weak in the knees. “Who told you i’m gonna fuck you?”

Jiyong was still smiling at you, but you saw a quick shiver of his lips as he drew the air in. “If you’re not, then you’re doing a weird thing going for my dick.”

The next thing he felt was your nails sliding up and down his dick —  the touch almost unnoticeable, the pressure was barely there, but his dick was twitching with every little touch of yours, getting harder.

“We all know what’s the purpose of fucking, right?” Your voice laced his ears like honey, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that this whole performance won’t end well for him. 

The outrageously smug smile that has been plastered on his face this whole time went blank as he watched you getting down on your knees, without any intentions to break eye contact. From all those years you knew it turns him on.

Your fingers were still running up and down Jiyong’s dick when you leveled with it. Your eyes plastered to his face detecting a twitching of his muscles, his Adam's apple going up and down slowly as he struggled with gulping, as you breathed out way too close to his sensitive tip. Your warm breath coated his head as he whimpered silently, trying to back off with zero success. 

You let one of your hands go up under his shirt tracing light circles on the skin of his stomach, feeling his abs tensing under your touch as you kept on blowing the warm air on his tip.

“You always liked to play games, yeah? With me…” A heavy grant escaped his lips. Jiyong’s mind couldn’t understand how to react to everything that was happening to his body: the excruciating pain in his arms that was driving him crazy for the last few hours, you, playing the touch game on his dick and stomach. The pain versus the pleasure. His mind was too busy going insane to detect your movement, but the coldness he suddenly felt on his abs sent him back to reality.

“Now, game’s mine, Jiyong.” You twisted a knife, the sharp point of it dancing on Jiyong’s skin, sending hundreds goosebumps running all around his body. “I like to see you like this. Helpless, but… what if?..”

And you dropped the knife lower, you slid the point of it down his shaft to his head, careless, not looking at it to be sure you won’t actually hurt him, but yet again checking his reaction. The way his chest heaved as he drew in a breath when he felt the knife touching his dick almost made you lose your sanity. He couldn’t realise if it was because of pleasure or out of realisation that you could chop off his dick, but he yelped, swirling around and trying to get away from the knife.

“You just have to ask me nicely, there’s no need to act like this, Jiyong.” You grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, trying to stop him from swirling. “Didn’t you want to play?’

Jiyong shrugged, sucking in air. “Y/N get the fucking knife away!..” He tried to scream but his voice cracked when he felt the wave of muscle tension going through his body as you pressed the cold blade of the knife to the hot flesh of his tip. “fuck…”

“Just accept that you like it.” Your little laughter filled the room mixed with Jiyong’s babbling and cursing as you started rubbing the blade on his tip. “Well…” Suddenly the rubbing felt easier and smoother and as you curiously checked the blade you chuckled, teasingly. “I already see that you quite like it, Mr Kwon.”

The blade was wet with his pre-cum. A few seconds later, Jiyong’s whole body spasmed and he bucked his hips forward, his body trying its best to find some needed friction, but you were fast enough to back off.

You hissed, stopping him midaction by pressing a hand to his hip and pressing it back. “Oh, no-no, Jiyong, you won’t get it. Only if you beg, maybe then I’ll think about it.”

You stood up carelessly, putting the knife in the pocket of your coat, and lifted Jiyong’s head just slightly by just barely tapping his chin. “Good boy.”

Your hand went up to mess with his damp hair, tangling your fingers in between his strands, you tugged on it, making Jiyong tilt his head back. His mouth fell open and you didn’t waste an opportunity. You launched on him aggressively, almost making him choke out of surprise. 

Jiyong didn’t back off, not that it was possible anyway, but he savoured your kiss as you were giving it to him. Passionate, wet, bloody from you biting his lips. You put your other hand back to his crotch, rubbing and tugging on his dick, playing lightly with the sensitive skin, eliciting the groan of pain from all the feelings out of his mouth. Your fingers were drawing light circles on his tip, coating itself in his wet sticky precum. 

“You want it bad…” You lulled, bringing your fingers to your mouth and licking the liquid off them, watching Jiyong visibly shake as the disappointment decorated his face.

Damn, the view turned you on. His head hanging loose between his cuffed to the wall arms, his chest muscles so tense you wanted to bite it, his dick dripping from your touch and body twitching in desperation. 

“Just say ‘Please’...”

He looked at you, something in his stare was animalistic and desperate, when his lips parted slightly he breathed out. “Please…”

His chest heaved a little when he felt your light touch on his dick. It was just a play for you, you only were teasing him, but it gave you so much power over the man that had all that power over you all those years. The way he toyed with you, making you feel so damn wanted and desirable, you could do anything he asked you to. And then he left. Without saying a word, he just left. 

You were rubbing his tip until you felt Jiyong breathing slowered and his muscles tensed. You won’t give it to him just like that.

“Y/N, s-stop, just…”

“Just what?” You pressed your fingertip to his dripping head again, drawing a low moan from Jiyong’s mouth. “Just say it, baby, it’s not that hard. I said it plenty of times to you.”

Jiyong gulped his pride down, the desire to stop this teasing and just cum was excruciating, it was tickling his skin painfully, swirling his stomach and curling his numb fingers. He wanted it. He needed it. But it was so hard to even mutter these words.

Jiyong heard you chuckle, watching him battling with himself for so long. “Okay, you can hang here. I’ll go visit your friend.” You took a few steps backwards, tapping your chin with your fingers. “What was his name again? TOP? Tabi? Whatever…” 

You almost turned around when the silence was interrupted with a breathy whimper.

“Y/N…” You looked at Jiyong, he was visibly waging war within himself. “Please… I…” he bit his lips in disgust, but the twitching in his stomach made him continue speaking, leaving all the male pride behind. “I beg you.”

“Damn? where is my camera? I should’ve captured this for future generations… mr. Kwon Jiyong begging me to let him cum.

You came closer to him, wrapped your fingers roughly around his chin and squeezed it tightly. “Okay, I'll let you.” You kissed him loosely, biting into his lower lip and tugging it away until you felt a drop of blood on your teeth.

You grabbed his dick again, firmly and started tugging on it in a quick rhythm, rubbing your thumb against his tip. The movements sent a wave of arousal up Jiyong’s body, his chest started heaving and dropping hectically, his stomach tying into a knot, as he panted heavily.

“P-please, tighter…”

He groaned on the way you tighten your grip around his shaft way too hard. “You think you can boss me around?” Hearing him groaning and squealing, you might have wanted to squeeze the living soul out of his dick, but with a few more rubs of your thumb against his wet tip, his whole body spasmed and he mellowed, coating your palm in his semen.

“Are you good now?” You wiped your palm on his shirt, slapping his cheek with another hand. “Now, it’s time to pay a visit to your friend. I didn’t come here exclusively to see you. Too much honor.”

You turned around on your heels, and walked away to the door, a smug smile shining on your face. “Maybe I’ll come visit you again if your friend bores me.”

When your hand was reaching the door handle, you heard Jiyong laughing. It took you a split second to turn around and dart a sharp look at him only to see him standing free on his feet, his hands uncuffed.

“So you could’ve stopped it anytime?” That man made you crazy again, putting a wicked smile on your face. “You’re really a sick weirdo, Kwon Jiyong. See you!”

The door closed on the other side of the room, locked.

Jiyong left standing there, in an empty cellar all alone. Why didn’t he stop you? Didn’t overpower you? At the end, he only toyed with you again.

On the other side of the door you’ve been thinking on how to recoup.

✧✧͏✧✧

Open ending i'm guessing it's a part 2 coming......

Event tag list: writers: @namsgyu @mashtatosworld @gds-daisy @gdinthehouseee @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @eru-vande @emmiesoverthemoon @petersasteria @breakmeoff @makeitworse

readers: @seungttttop @keiraryan @moontabi @mintandmuse @steponupbabe @heartubeatusalon @burningheartdetective @thanosspills @aizshallnotbefound @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 + personal tags! (comment to be added)

my tag list: @loveesiren @infinetlyforgotten @sevendaysummer

[tokidokitokyo]

Starting a Conversation in Japanese

A podcast I really enjoy, ことのは日本語の会話のpodcast, recently posted an episode about starting a conversation in Japanese:

やまむ先生 and きび先生 are two Japanese language teachers who talk about a variety of topics on their podcast, and the back-and-forth between the two women is a good way to attune your ears to natural Japanese language conversation.

This episode in particular - 日本で使て！日本人に話しかけるフレーズ (Use in Japan! Phrases to start a conversation with Japanese people) - resonated with me because, although I've been studying Japanese for more than half my life (^^;;) I still vividly remember when I first arrived in Japan and felt like I could barely form a coherent sentence. Speaking with people was a daunting challenge, and if I hadn't had friendly people around me I think that I would have been awkward and terrified for a lot longer than I was. They also have set phrases which I wish I had someone to tell me before I went to Japan!

Feel free to listen to this episode and let me know if you have any additional tips or suggestions to the ones I list below. This episode is designed for N3-level speakers and above, but here are the things that they hit on that I thought were particularly important:

My Japanese Level is Too Low!

When I first arrived in Japan, and the ticket cashier switched immediately to English because I was struggling, I really felt like I could not do Japanese at all, and I was pretty intimidated. But! I used Japanese regularly, and I was able to eventually have enough confidence to speak to others.

The main point brought up in this podcast is that N5 level (beginning level) is enough to start a conversation!

Using formal です・ます forms is perfectly acceptable and actually this is how many Japanese people would address each other when speaking with someone for the first time or with someone they do not know well. You could start off casually, and count on the 外人パス (foreigner card) to get you through, but it is generally more comfortable for Japanese people if you approach them with formal, respectful language. You don't need to pull out N1-level grammar to introduce yourself (and it might even be more awkward if you do), so just go ahead with the basics.

Adjust your comments to the situation!

If you are in a restaurant, a work setting, a group setting, or a school setting, tailor your opening comment to the situation. In Japanese I have heard this called TPO (time, place, occasion), which means don't ask a coworker if she's been on any dates lately (seems like common sense?) and in front of a group of soccer players (I'm imagining my own days in the soccer circle) don't start drooling over BTS' Jin (at least not until you find the other Jin fans - when you first join the club it's way too early). The podcast gives you some good conversation starters that are harmless and can be used in multiple situations. After all, Japanese is all about reading the air (空気を読む).

Think about what you'll say next before you even speak!

I know, I know, you already spent 3.2 hours coming up with your opening line and another 45 minutes working up the courage to use it... but once you've initiated the conversation, the other person may not step up to carry on the conversation, leaving the onus on you. If you're interested in continuing the conversation, have some follow up comments or questions ready in your back pocket. As in any language, if you don't make the effort to continue the conversation, it might just fizzle out.

It's a conversation, not an interrogation!

Asking about the other person is a sure-fire way to keep them talking, but you also need to be mindful that they may not want an interrogation. As they say in the podcast, try to read their face colour (顔の色) and change your approach as needed. Since you are (most likely) from a different country, you could throw in some fun facts about your country that are related to the topic you picked to keep things going.

Safe things to talk about:

The weather

Your hometown/home country

Their plans for the weekend/upcoming holiday

Their hometown

Food

In Short

People are people, and even if your Japanese is not where you'd like it to be, most people will be willing to speak with you, and I've found that most Japanese people are flattered you are learning their language. Since practicing is the best way to improve, there's no better time than now to start speaking. Just remember TPO (time/place/occasion), don't interrogate the other person, and prepare some follow up comments to keep the conversation flowing as best you can.

Hope this is useful!

[beesinspades]

finally finished this piece inspired by my creature vash (vashwood) fic, the monster in the ruins of ship five, which is now complete! 💜

close-up on the eepy sleepies:

[johnbly]

"Well-trained, don't you think?"

(Rufus is the official plush from Square, Darkstar is sewed out of felt by me!)

[ra-archives]

Stareater

[sensationseekng]

are they lovers?

worse

[scene 3/? from what am I to you?]

[meownotgood]

haul time!!!!!!!! now to figure out where to even put everything..... aha

[depresseddepot]

I have dreams all the time where I'm sad when I wake up but last night I dreamt that I told a joke so funny that random strangers were just straight up sending me money. my best friend's mom sent me $1000 with the caption "haha!"

[shortkidenergy]

sometimes my dad will choose the absolute strangest hill to die on. today:

"one time i got jumped by 6 guys with golf clubs on the subway and it didn't really affect me why does nobody ever talk about how sometimes bad stuff happens to you and you DON'T get traumatized? >:("

????

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)