#all my ults are there... typical of me

[ulteri0rm0tives]

....and if I said I wanted Johnny and Kerry in the messiest divorce arc since Paul McCartney and John Lennon.. what then...

[lazy-ahh]

YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE GOES GOOD WITH GAMING?

pairing mark grayson x male reader

you’ve waited weeks for him to return from his mission, and now he’s here, warm and insistent against you, while your ranked match blares ignored on the screen. the worst part? you don't mind losing. despite the weeks of hard work. you want his lips on yours, his weight pressing you into the chair, the way he murmurs "i missed you" between kisses like it’s a confession. but you’ve clawed your way to this rank-up game, and you never quit—even when mark’s tongue is lapping up the precome leaking from your tip and your fingers are trembling on the keyboard.

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro , @cynvia

mark’s been gone for weeks—some off-world mission, because apparently, the universe can’t handle itself without him. not that you’d admit it, but you missed him. more than you should. more than you’d ever let him know. you caught yourself staring at your window too often, half-expecting to see his silhouette against the glass, that infuriatingly patient tap-tap-tap before you’d let him in. as if he didn’t know you left the damn thing unlocked for him every night. typical.

everything reminded you of him, which was unacceptable. so you buried yourself in distractions—school, homework, then straight to your pc, booting up marvel rivals before you could even think about how quiet the room felt without him. the game had been his idea, of course. he’d all but shoved it at you, that stupid, eager grin on his face as he said, "just try it. if you hate it, i’ll never bring it up again. but you won’t." as if he hadn’t already known you’d love it.

at first, he was the one explaining everything—mechanics, lore, all that useless trivia he’d absorbed like some kind of nerd-shaped sponge. "see, magik’s portals work like this—" or "no, don’t engage yet, strange’s cooldown is—" annoying. endearing. you’d never admit either out loud. but then you got better. faster. soon, you were the one calling shots, dragging his sorry ass through ranked matches while he laughed in your ear, loud and unguarded, every time you pulled off some insane play. "holy shit—did you just parry that ult?! that’s illegal. you’re actually cracked. YOU JUST SAVED MY LIFE OH BABY I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU-"

he never complained, even when you outclassed him. just watched you with that quiet, proud look, like he’d somehow won just by getting you to play. sometimes, when you were both too tired for another match but not tired enough to log off, he’d let his character idle beside yours in the lobby, humming some off-key tune while you fiddled with skins. "you’re keeping me up," you’d grumble. "then kick me out," he’d shoot back, knowing full well you wouldn’t.

now, with him gone, solo queue was a nightmare. you tried comms, but it was a coin toss—either decent teammates or the kind of toxic dps mains who threw matches the second things went south. you added a few tolerable players, grinding comp at set times, but most of your matches were still solo. and you’d climbed. platinum, after weeks of stubborn, teeth-gritted effort. you could already picture mark’s reaction—that mix of irritation (probably pretend) and admiration he got whenever you outdid him. not that you’d gloat. much.

the real problem would be playing together once you hit diamond. he was still stuck in gold, and you refused to smurf. so for now, you were stuck in elo hell—platinum I to diamond III, then back down again, in a cycle that felt like the universe mocking you. but you’d figure it out. you always did. and when he got back, you’d make sure he knew exactly how much ground he had to cover to keep up.

you were half-heartedly proofreading your essay, the queue timer ticking away in the corner of your screen, when your hand moved before your brain could stop it—grabbing your phone, unlocking it, immediately swiping to mark’s messages like muscle memory. it was a bad habit at this point. every idle moment, every second of downtime, your fingers betrayed you, pulling up his chat like some pathetic reflex. and there they were, still staring back at you: his last messages from weeks ago, before comms cut out and space swallowed him whole.

your thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the timestamp like you could will it to change. then—there. that stupid, stupid one-liner he’d sent right before losing signal: ‘try not to miss me too much!’ as if he hadn’t known exactly what he was doing. as if you weren’t already doing exactly that.

a quiet, involuntary laugh escaped you, sharp and fond all at once. "idiot," you muttered, but the word came out too soft, too warm, and you hated how easily he could drag that out of you. like you were some sappy romance protagonist instead of yourself. you tossed your phone back onto the desk, maybe a little harder than necessary, and forced your eyes back to your essay.

it didn’t work. the words blurred together, your focus already frayed, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. stupid. stupid markus sebastian grayson, turning you into this—some lovesick fool who couldn’t even function right without him around. worst of all? you knew he’d be grinning if he saw you like this. that smug, infuriating look he got when he realized he’d gotten under your skin.

you gritted your teeth and stabbed at your keyboard, queue be damned. you had an essay to finish. and not think about him.

and then—as if the universe itself was mocking you—tap-tap-tap.

your head snapped up so fast your neck protested. for a second, you wondered if you’d finally lost it, conjuring him up out of sheer, pathetic longing. but no. there he was, floating outside your window like some overgrown, dirt-streaked moth, his stupid grin brighter than the goddamn moon behind him.

mark looked wrecked—hair a mess, suit scuffed, one of his lenses cracked—but his smile was the same as always: crooked, too-wide, the kind that crinkled his eyes and made his stupid dimples pop. like he’d been waiting for this moment, like seeing you was the best part of his damn day.

and then—because you were a fool—you scrambled for the window like some desperate rom-com lead, fumbling with the latch like you hadn’t left it unlocked for him on purpose. your face burned. disgraceful.

mark’s expression flickered—confusion, then worry, his smile dropping as he darted forward. "baby? is everything alright?"

before you could even attempt to salvage your dignity, he was inside, his hands cradling your face like you were something fragile. his palms were rough, still warm from flight, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he searched for injuries. "you okay? you look—" he paused, studying your flushed face, the way you were very pointedly not meeting his eyes. then, slowly, his lips twitched. "…oh."

oh. like he’d just figured you out. like he knew.

you wanted to die. "shut up," you muttered, but it lacked any real bite—not when your traitorous heart was pounding loud enough for both of you to hear.

mark’s grin softened, something unbearably fond in his eyes as he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. "missed me that much, huh?"

"no," you lied, immediately.

he laughed, quiet and warm, and you hated how it made your chest ache. "liar."

and then—because he was the absolute worst—he kissed your stupid, burning cheeks, one after the other, lingering just to feel the way you tensed under his touch. "it’s okay," he murmured, lips brushing your skin like he was savoring every second of your embarrassment. "i missed you too."

you were never living this down.

just as you opened your mouth to snap something—anything—to wipe that smug look off his face, your pc chimed. the two of you turned in unison, and there it was, flashing bright and mocking on your screen: match found.

"shit," you hissed, scrambling back toward your desk. "i forgot to fucking cancel queue—"

mark barked out a laugh, loud and delighted. "no way. you’ve been grinding rivals this whole time?" he was already following you, leaning over your shoulder with that infuriating grin. "aw, baby. did you miss me or the game more?"

you elbowed him hard enough to make him oof, but he didn’t budge, just hooked his chin over your shoulder as you frantically clicked to lock in your character. "shut up. i was bored."

"uh-huh," he drawled, eyes scanning the screen. then—"holy shit." his fingers dug into your shoulders. "you’re one game from diamond?!"

you could feel the grin in his voice before you even saw it—that stupid, contagious excitement thrumming through him like a live wire. it was unbearable. worse, it was working, that familiar warmth pooling in your chest despite your best efforts to stomp it out. pathetic. since when did you let him sway you so easily?

"took you long enough to notice," you muttered, aiming for derision but landing somewhere dangerously close to fond. your chest tightened traitorously when he let out that low, impressed whistle—the same one he used when you pulled off something reckless in the field. like you’d impressed him.

"damn. guess i’ve gotta step up my game." his lips brushed your temple, lingering just long enough to make your fingers twitch on the keyboard. you jerked your shoulder up to shove him off, but he just laughed, the vibration of it rattling through your ribs. "carry me when i’m back in gold, yeah?"

"in your fucking dreams," you snarled, but the bite dissolved the second his laugh vibrated through your shoulder—warm and familiar and alive, filling up the hollow spaces his absence had carved into your room for weeks. your traitorous heartbeat steadied against your ribs, and you didn’t shove him off when his chin dug into your shoulder. pathetic.

you’d never admit it out loud—would rather chew glass than acknowledge how much you’d missed this—but his presence at your back, solid and warm and breathing, made your fingers stutter over the character select screen.

then mark, the insufferable bastard, decided words weren’t enough.

his lips found the hinge of your jaw first—soft, teasing—then the corner of your mouth when you tilted your head automatically. "distracting me on purpose?" you muttered, but the protest cracked when his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

"is it working?" he murmured against your mouth, all smugness, and you hated how easily your body betrayed you, leaning towards him with a scoff that turned into a sharp inhale when his tongue swept over yours.

his hands cradled your face like you were something precious, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he kissed you slow and deep, the way he knew unraveled you. your fingers curled around his wrist—anchoring, needing—while your other hand slid up to cup his jaw.

when you finally pulled back to breathe (because unlike him, you were human, damn it), mark didn’t go far. his forehead stayed pressed to yours, lips swollen and curved into that stupid, satisfied smile, his breaths just as uneven as yours. his eyes were half-lidded, dark with something unbearably fond as they traced your face—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your fingers still clung to him like you’d die if he let go.

"missed you," he whispered, like it was a secret.

you swallowed the i missed you more threatening to spill out. "shut up. i’m trying to rank up." you shoved at his chest, but your fingers curled into his suit instead of pushing him away—another pathetic betrayal your body refused to stop committing.

mark’s grin turned wicked, eyes flashing with that infuriating knowing look as he chased your lips before you could even think to turn back to the screen. his hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you again, deeper this time, hungrier. his tongue swept against yours, slow and teasing, then insistent when you made a noise embarrassingly close to a whimper.

you could feel his smirk against your mouth, the way his free hand gripped your thigh to pull you closer, his body pressing yours back into the chair until you were arching up into him without thought. his teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging just enough to make your stomach flip, and when you gasped, he took advantage, licking into your mouth like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

your hands were everywhere—one fisted in his hair, the other clutching at his shoulder, nails digging in when he nipped at your tongue. his breath hitched, and the sound went straight to your already-fogged head. you could feel his heartbeat where your thumb brushed his pulse point, wild and alive, and it made something possessive curl in your chest.

then—

the sudden blare of the match-starting music ripped through the haze.

you jerked back, breath ragged, lips swollen and wet, just in time to see your character standing idle on-screen, the round start timer already counting down.

"fuck," you hissed through gritted teeth, fingers scrambling across the keyboard with desperate precision. mark blinked, dumbfounded as he processed your sudden panic before chuckling, that infuriatingly warm puff of air hitting your pulse point. "seriously?" his arms tightened around your shoulders in protest, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck like some overgrown cat refusing to move from its favorite spot.

"you're really playing right now?" he murmured, lips forming the words against your skin in a way that made your fingers stutter on the WASD keys. the amusement in his voice was unbearable, especially when you could feel his smirk pressed into your shoulder.

"one game away from diamond," you muttered, the words coming out flatter than you intended. the forced casualness did nothing to mask the frustrated and disappointed edge underneath. "if i leave now, i lose twenty fucking points."

mark sighed dramatically, the full weight of his disappointment radiating through his entire body before he finally—reluctantly—peeled himself away. the sudden absence of his warmth against your back felt criminal, and it took every ounce of your pitiful self-control not to spin your chair around and drag him back by his sinfully narrow waist. "fine, fine," he conceded, stretching with exaggerated resignation. "I'll go shower. but you owe me," he added, pausing just long enough to press one last kiss to the top of your head—chaste but loaded with promise—before sauntering toward the bathroom with that infuriatingly perfect sway to his hips.

you waited until the bathroom door clicked shut before allowing yourself one single, shaky exhale, your fingers finally steadying on the mouse as you looked at your character. the screen blurred for just a second before you violently blinked it back into focus. damn this stupid game. damn mark for being so distracting. and damn you most of all for caring about either.

the match loads in with that familiar chime, and suddenly the world narrows to the glow of your monitor—every neuron firing, every muscle coiled tight with precision. your fingers dance across the keyboard in practiced patterns, movements sharp and lethal despite the phantom heat still burning where mark's lips had been moments ago. focus. you need to focus.

the numbers don't lie—48% ult charge, one teammate already flaming in chat, the enemy hawkeye picking your supports like fucking target practice. your teeth grind together hard enough to hurt. stupid. you never should've filled as support. if you'd locked in iron fist from the start, this match would've been over already.

when the third round starts with another pathetic stagger, you snap. "swap with me," you speak into voice chat, voice steady and determined, already selecting iron fist before the whiny psylocke main can protest. the second the lock-in confirmation pings, your shoulders drop half an inch—better. this you can work with. this you can carry.

your crosshair finds the enemy healer's skull just as—

warm fingers skate up your inner thigh, slow and deliberate. mark's palm presses flush against your leg, his thumb tracing idle circles through the fabric of your sweats.

your entire body jerks so hard your knee slams into the desk—mark's suddenly between your legs like some fucking phantom, all sharp teeth and wicked gleam in his eyes as he looks up at you. "what the fuck," you snarl, but he just presses a single finger to his lips, the bastard, like this is some goddamn library and not your room.

"don't let me distract you," he murmurs, voice dripping with false innocence—and then his clever fingers are sliding your sweats down with agonizing slowness. you should shove him off. you should. but your hands stay frozen over the keyboard even as your pulse jackrabbits in your throat.

then his mouth—fuck—his mouth is on you, and the world narrows to the wet heat of his tongue dragging up your cock in one long, filthy lick, from base to tip, slow enough to make your thighs tremble. he lingers at the head, swirling the flat of his tongue over the slit just to hear the choked noise it punches from your throat. bastard.

he does it again—slower this time, savoring the way your hips jerk up, your fingers flexing like you can’t decide whether to shove him off or pull him closer. but mark just hums, amused, and pins you down with one broad hand splayed across your stomach, his grip firm enough to keep you in place but gentle enough that you could break free if you really wanted to. (you don’t.)

then he sinks down, taking you into his mouth inch by inch, his lips stretched tight around you, his tongue pressing up against the underside in a way that makes your vision blur. he pulls off just as slow, dragging his teeth just shy of too much, before diving back down like he’s got all the time in the world. like he wants to ruin you.

and the worst part? he’s watching you the whole time—eyes dark, lashes low, his gaze locked onto your face like he’s memorizing every twitch of your expression, every bitten-off curse. like your pleasure is the only thing that matters.

it’s unbearable.

your character dodges a stun on pure muscle memory because christ—the way mark hollows his cheeks, lips stretched obscenely around you, the wet slick sounds filling the room every time he pulls up just to plunge back down. his eyelashes flutter against flushed skin when your thighs instinctively squeeze around his head, and your mouse creaks under your death grip, sweat rolling down your temples as you choke back a moan that's been building in your throat for minutes.

"m-mark—" you hiss through clenched teeth, but he just hums around you, the vibration shooting straight to your spine. your foot kicks out involuntarily, knocking against a wall as he picks up the pace, lips red and slick with spit, watching you unravel above him. the match is chaos—your team screams comms in voice chat, frantic calls to focus the enemy tank, but all you hear is the filthy slide of his mouth and your own ragged breathing.

you're so fucked.

mark's tongue drags along the underside of your cock with practiced precision, swirling around the head before sinking down until your hips twitch against the chair. his throat works around you, warm and tight, and you barely register the kill feed flashing on-screen as your healer dies, leaving you alone on point with the overtime bar bleeding out. for one delirious second, you think there goes my rank-up game—but your hands move anyway, your body reacting on pure instinct as you somehow, somehow clutch the round.

"p-please—" the word tears out of you like a surrender, raw and desperate in a way that would’ve had you recoiling if your brain wasn’t reduced to static. your fingers twist in mark’s hair—pulling? pushing?—as your hips stutter helplessly. "mark, please, go—ah—go easy—" it’s pathetic, how your voice cracks on the last syllable, how your thighs tremble under his palms like you’re some inexperienced kid instead of—

mark listens, but not the way you wanted. he pulls off with a filthy, wet pop, your cock twitching against your stomach, flushed and glistening under the low light. the bastard has the audacity to grin, lips slick and swollen, breath coming in quick puffs against your overheated skin. "that good, huh?" he rasps, dragging his tongue along your length in one torturously slow stripe, savoring the way your abs clench violently.

you barely have time to gasp before he’s mouthing at the head, pressing wet, open kisses along the vein underneath—teasing, always teasing—his breath scorching where you’re oversensitive and throbbing. then—just as the enemy team respawns, just as your team’s frantic pings flood the screen—he swallows you back down in one smooth slide, deep, until his nose brushes your stomach and he stays, throat working around you in slow, deliberate pulses.

your hips jerk instinctively, chasing friction, but mark just digs his fingers into your thighs, pinning you to the chair with infuriating ease. the contrast is maddening—the game’s frantic audio in your headphones, your team’s character voice lines of getting hurt, the enemy pushing point—while mark’s mouth is nothing but molten stillness, his tongue pressing just there every time you twitch. sweat drips down your temple. your knuckles whiten on the mouse. you can’t tell if the choked noise that escapes you is from the hawkeye headshot that just wiped your backline or the way mark breathes through his nose, content to let you unravel in his grip.

his eyes flick up to yours through his lashes—dark, amused, the bastard—lips stretched obscenely around you as he watches your screen with detached interest. like this is just another game to him. like he knows you’re two seconds from either throwing the match or throwing your dignity out the window to fuck into his throat.

somehow—through the haze of sweat and mark’s fucking teeth grazing you on an upstroke, through the way your thighs tremble around his shoulders—you clutch. iron fist’s ult meter hits 100% with a deafening chime. your muscles coil, every fiber taut with tension, and mark’s grip tightens on your hips in warning, nails biting into skin. but you launch yourself into the backline anyway, the kill feed exploding in a burst of color. triple. quad. your team’s hysterical screaming in voice chat drowns out the wet, obscene sound of mark finally moving, sucking you down to the root just as "victory" flashes across the screen in blinding gold.

your team continues to scream—cheering, cracking jokes, their earlier hostility forgotten in the adrenaline rush. you would've thought this was a beautiful moment if you weren't currently being sucked off by your boyfriend. you mutter a breathless "gg" into the mic, lips twitching at the chorus of "holy shit, w fucking iron fist!" before you’re cutting them off with a sharp click of your mouse. the headset hits the desk with a clatter.

you don’t even get to savor the win. mark’s hands are on your hips now, dragging you to the edge of the chair with a roughness that makes your stomach flip. his nose presses into your stomach, lips sealed tight as he swallows around you with a filthy, shuddering groan—like he’s been waiting this whole fucking match to ruin you properly. your back arches off the chair, fingers tangling in his hair hard enough to hurt, but he just moans around you, eyes fluttering shut like this is exactly where he wants to be. like he’d happily die here, between your thighs.

"f-fuck—mark—" you whimper, but it’s too late. he’s not stopping this time.

his tongue drags along the underside of your cock in a slow, filthy stripe before he takes you deep again, one hand sliding up your chest to thumb at your nipple through your shirt. the dual sensation punches a ragged noise from your throat, your hips jerking involuntarily. mark hums in approval, the vibration rippling through you like a live wire. his free hand slips under your thigh, hiking your leg over his shoulder to press you even closer, until you can feel every hitched breath he takes through your skin.

he pulls off just to mouth at the head, tongue circling the slit with agonizing precision, and you whine, high and desperate. his eyes flick up to yours, dark with something unbearably fond even as his lips glisten with spit. "love you like this," he murmurs against your skin, voice wrecked. "all mine. fucking perfect. i missed you so much baby, you don't even know the half of it—"

then he’s sinking down again, taking you until his throat flutters around the tip, and you’re gone—fingers tightening in his hair as you spill down his throat with a broken cry. mark swallows every drop, lips staying locked around you until you’re twitching from oversensitivity, until your grip on his hair loosens to cradle his face instead.

when he finally pulls away, his lips are swollen, his cheeks flushed. he rests his forehead against your thigh, breathing hard, and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh—soft, reverent. like you’re something sacred.

"welcome home," you mutter, voice hoarse.

mark's grin is worth every goddamn second of the wait—all bright-eyed and breathless, his lips kiss-swollen from where you'd bitten them. you're still coming down from your high, chest heaving, fingers trembling against the keyboard where you'd gripped it too tight. you should shove him off. you would shove him off. any second now.

"baby," mark murmurs, and fuck, the way your stupid traitorous heart lurches at that tone—all soft and reverent, like you're something precious instead of a mess of sweat and frustration and arousal. his fingers trail down your stomach, feather-light, and you hate how your body arches into the touch before your brain catches up.

"don't—" you start, but it comes out hoarse, ruined. mark just smiles, that dorky, infuriating smile that makes your chest ache, and presses a kiss to your shoulder while his other hand navigates your mouse with infuriating ease.

"c'mon, diamond boy," he teases, clicking queue with one hand while the other slips lower, fingers tracing your rim in slow, maddening circles. "wouldn't want you to lose your hard-earned rank, would we?"

you choke on air when his fingers slide past your lips—calloused and tasting faintly of salt—pressing down on your tongue with deliberate pressure. "suck," mark murmurs, and your traitorous mouth obeys before your pride can protest, hollowing your cheeks as you work his fingers wet. his breath hitches when your teeth graze his knuckles, his other hand fisting his own cock through his pants at the sight of you—lips stretched, lashes fluttering, teary-eyed, that fucked-out daze already clouding your expression just from this.

then those slick fingers are dragging down your stomach, pushing past your thighs, and—"fuck—" your hips jerk when one curls inside you, crooking just right. "you're insufferable," you spit, but it loses all bite when your hands scramble uselessly between the desk and his wrist, torn between shoving him away and grinding down onto his hand.

mark laughs against your pulse point, the vibration rattling through your ribs as he adds a second finger with that same unbearable patience, stretching you slow. "keep playing," he breathes into your ear, twisting his wrist to drag a broken noise from your throat. "i wanna see you try to focus when i'm fucking you full of my cock."

the match loads in with that obnoxiously bright chime, but the sound barely registers—not when mark’s fingers crook just right, scissoring deep and dragging a broken moan from your throat. your vision whites out for a second, hips jerking uselessly against his hand as he adds a third finger, stretching you with that infuriating, practiced ease.

"fuck, you’re tight," mark murmurs against the shell of your ear, his free hand sliding up to palm your chest, thumb brushing over your nipple. "when was the last time you touched yourself, baby?"

you choke on a gasp when his fingers press deeper, hitting that spot that makes your thighs tremble. "few—fuck—few weeks ago," you manage, voice ragged. "didn’t— didn’t do shit. couldn’t—"

his teeth graze your earlobe, sharp and teasing. "couldn’t what?"

you hate how breathless you sound. "couldn’t reach deep enough. wasn’t—hnng—wasn’t you."

mark groans, low and filthy, his fingers stilling inside you just to feel how you clench around them. "christ, you’re gonna kill me," he mutters, but he’s grinning when he nips at your jaw. "lucky for you, i’m real good at reaching where you need me, huh?"

you scoff, the immersion breaking for a second as you look at him unimpressed, "did you really just say that—ahh—" and then he curls his fingers just so, and you’re pretty sure the entire universe short-circuits.

mark withdraws his fingers with a slick sound, and the emptiness is agony. your head drops forward, teary eyes staring down at yourself—flushed, trembling, needy—and you hate how pathetic you look. how wrecked he’s made you already. his cock twitches in his pants at the sight, and the groan he lets out is filthy. "look at you," he murmurs, voice rough. "all desperate for me."

before you can snap something defensive, his hands are on your hips, hauling you up with that stupid superhuman strength of his. you stumble, legs shaky, but he steadies you effortlessly—then drops into your chair, pulling you down onto his lap in one smooth motion. the heat of him sears through his clothes, and you feel him, hard and eager beneath his boxers, the fabric damp where he’s been leaking for you.

"there," mark murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing your legs apart wider. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he adds, "better view, yeah?" his fingers make quick work of his own pants, shoving them down just enough to free his cock—already hard and leaking against your back. "still gotta pick, baby," he teases, nipping at your earlobe when you hesitate on the character select screen. "unless you wanna dodge? though, i don't think you can dodge in this game."

you scoff, locking in iron fist with more force than necessary. "shut up."

the game loads in a blur of colors and sound, but all you can focus on is mark's teeth sinking into your shoulder as you guide your character toward the point. his hands roam your chest, pinching and teasing until you're squirming in your seat. "f-focus on the fucking game," you mutter, even as your hips push back against him.

mark just laughs, low and dark, before licking a stripe up your neck. "giving yourself pep-talk? how cute."

"i swear to god, markus sebastian grayson, if you say one more cheesy thing i will throw you out of my room."

when the enemy team finally pushes in, bullets and abilities flying across your screen, mark chooses that exact moment to shove two fingers past your lips. "suck," he orders, and you do—tongue swirling around his digits, moaning when he curls them just right. he pulls them out slick with your spit, trailing them down your stomach before reaching between your legs.

"f-fuck—" you choke out as his spit-slick fingers circle your rim, teasing before one pushes in to the second knuckle. your back arches off the chair, thighs spreading wider despite the game still raging onscreen. "mark—!"

"that’s it," he growls, his free hand groping your chest as he works you open again—first one finger, then two, scissoring slow until you’re panting, your neglected cock dripping onto your stomach. his own erection grinds against your lower back, leaking precome onto your skin. "still gonna carry, or am i too distracting?" he taunts, curling his fingers just so until you see white.

you barely register the starlord that flanks your team from behind you, killing your punisher as mark withdraws his fingers, leaving you clenching around nothing. "look at you," he murmurs, lining up his cock—thick and flushed and yours—against your hole. "already fucking yourself back on my fingers like you’re starving for it." he pushes in slow, just the tip at first, and the stretch burns so good your toes curl. "shit—" he groans, hips stuttering when you clench around him. "still so tight, even after i loosened you up. fucking perfect."

he pulls out until just the head remains, those shallow, teasing thrusts making your nails scrape against the keyboard. "more—" you demand, voice cracking, but mark just laughs—bright and smug—keeping the pace agonizingly slow.

"beg prettier," he murmurs against your ear, and you’re going to fucking murder him later.

the thought evaporates when your character dies on screen, a sharp "fuck!" tearing from your throat as your head thuds back against his shoulder. mark’s chuckle vibrates through your spine. "distracted, baby?"

"shut the fuck up," you groan, but your hips twitch back against him instinctively, seeking friction. his hands tighten around your waist, holding you still.

"uh-uh. you wanted to play." his teeth graze your earlobe. "so play."

then your character respawns, and you barely have time to register the 30 SECONDS OF OVERTIME warning before mark slams up into you in one brutal thrust, filling you completely. your back arches as you come with a choked gasp, vision whiting out around the edges—

"that’s it, sweetheart," mark praises, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to bruise before soothing it with his tongue. his arms cage you against the desk, his cock twitching inside you as he murmurs nonsense into your skin: "so good for me, taking me so well—fuck, look at you."

you’re trembling, oversensitive, but the game’s still going. with a shaky breath, you force your hands back onto the keyboard, your movements sluggish as you try to focus past the haze. mark hums approvingly, resting his chin on your shoulder to watch the screen, his cock still buried deep. every slight shift of his hips—every lazy pulse inside you—has your fingers stuttering on the keys.

"c'mon, baby," mark murmurs against your jaw, his breath warm as his fingers trail higher up your thigh. "carry us." his other hand slips around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest—solid and familiar and home after weeks of empty space and staticky comms. "missed watching you play," he admits quietly, lips brushing your earlobe. "missed watching you win."

you're going to strangle him. after you win.

his nose nuzzles into the space behind your ear, inhaling deeply like he's memorizing your scent. "god, missed you," he continues, voice going rough around the edges. "mission was hell without your voice in my ear. kept thinking about how you'd chew me out for taking stupid risks." a soft laugh vibrates through his chest and into yours. "missed that too."

your fingers hesitate on the keyboard for half a second before you tilt your head just enough to press a grudging kiss to his jaw—the closest part of him you can reach without twisting your entire body. "i missed you too, beloved," you mutter, the endearment slipping out despite yourself. "but right now, i'm trying to focus."

mark makes a wounded noise at the nickname, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "say that again," he demands against your throat, lips dragging wet and insistent over your pulse. "c’mon, sweetheart, just once more—" his hips shift minutely, and fuck, you feel it—the way his cock twitches inside you, already so hard it makes your breath stutter. your grip on the mouse tightens reflexively, knuckles going white around it as you try to focus on the flickering screen instead of the heat of him buried to the hilt.

"later," you rasp, securing a kill and kicking away through sheer muscle memory. "if you can fucking behave."

mark groans like you’ve wounded him, but he mostly stills—except for the way his fingers keep tracing absent, possessive circles low on your stomach, except for the way his lips keep finding patches of skin to suck bruises into between ragged breaths. "better win fast then," he murmurs, teeth scraping your shoulder in warning. "cause i missed all of you, [y/n]."

your eyes flick down instinctively—and there, just below your navel, the faintest swell where the tip of him presses up inside you. the sight punches a shaky noise from your throat, your body clenching around him before you can stop yourself.

"f-fuck—" mark’s whimper is wrecked, his forehead dropping heavily between your shoulder blades as his hips jerk involuntarily. you can feel him throbbing, the slick drag of him as he accidentally pushes deeper. "christ, you’re gonna kill me," he grits out, fingers trembling where they splay across your stomach like he’s mapping the bulge.

you swallow hard, throat bobbing against the thick press of him inside you, forcing your attention back to the screen even as your thighs tremble on top of mark's. "then fucking stop moving," you snap, but your voice fractures halfway through, turning the command into something embarrassingly close to a plea. the kill feed lights up with your username in bold strokes but the victory does nothing to hide how wrecked you already sound, how your walls flutter around him when he chuckles darkly against your neck.

"you're doing so good, baby," mark murmurs, lips dragging along your pulse point as his hands slide up your chest. his thumbs brush over your nipples through your shirt, teasing just enough to make you jolt but not enough to truly distract—not when you're finally gaining ground, finally winning. "carrying this match and taking me so well..."

you bite back a whimper, fingers flying across the keyboard as you cap the point. eight minutes. eight agonizing minutes of mark's cock seated deep inside you, his hips making tiny, barely-there rolls whenever you did something particularly impressive—a well-timed ult, a perfect parry—until you were dripping around him, your sweat-slicked back sticking to his chest. you don't even remember when you (or mark) had taken your shirt off. the start had been a disaster, but after forcing that useless jeff to swap, after taking matters into your own hands, your team steamrolled through the enemy like they were nothing. just like you knew they would.

the victory screen flashes gold, the triumphant DING of your rank-up swallowed whole by the filthy, wet sound of mark’s cock driving into you—deep, too deep, the angle so brutal your vision whites out for a second. his hands lock around your waist, flipping you before you can even process it, and suddenly you’re straddling him, knees digging into your chair as he yanks you down onto him with a groan that rattles your bones.

"fuck, look at you," mark gasps, voice shredded. his fingers scramble over your hips, your stomach, your chest—like he can’t decide where to touch first, like he’s starving for all of you at once. his hips snap up, relentless, the thick drag of him punching a broken noise from your throat. "all mine. perfect for me."

his praise is molten, spilling between feverish kisses, between the slick clash of tongues as he licks into your mouth. you can taste your name on his lips, sweet and desperate. his cock brushes that spot inside you with every thrust, just right, and your back arches on instinct, nails biting into his shoulders hard enough to bruise.

"knew you could do it," he growls, hands fisting in your hair to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to his teeth. "knew you’d win. my brilliant, beautiful boy—"

his voice cracks on the last word, and god, the way he’s looking at you—eyes black with want, lips swollen from kissing you stupid, his usual awkward confidence unraveled into something raw and needy—it’s worse than the pleasure, worse than the way his cock stretches you open. because this? this is mark grayson coming apart beneath you, for you, his breath coming in ragged bursts as his grip on your hips turns possessive.

you’re both a wreck—skin gleaming with sweat, your thighs trembling where they bracket his hips, the filthy, wet sound of him sliding into you over and over until your vision whites out at the edges. his grip on your hips is brutal, thumbs pressing into the bone hard enough to bruise, holding you down as he grinds up with a snap of his hips that punches a sob from your throat. "mark—!" his name comes out broken, slurred between panting breaths, and he’s no better, his voice ragged as he chokes out, "that’s it, baby, take it—fuck, just like that—" like he’s unraveling, like he’s worshipping you.

you cut him off with a sharp roll of your hips, stealing the groan right from his lips as you take control, your fingers tangling in his hair to yank his head back. "shut up," you mutter, but it’s fond, "you’re so fucking loud." his hands scramble at your back, blunt nails dragging red lines down your skin as you ride him with ruthless precision, chasing your own pleasure just as much as his, the whimpers and groans coming from his lips not stopping. the chair creaks dangerously beneath you, your forgotten headset hitting the floor with a clatter, but you don’t care—not when mark’s thrusts are growing erratic, his rhythm faltering under your relentless pace.

you lean in, teeth scraping his cheekbone before you kiss him, messy and biting, swallowing his gasp as you nip at his bottom lip. "gonna come already?" you taunt, voice rough, "thought you had more stamina than that."

mark growls—low and feral, the sound rumbling through your chest like thunder—and suddenly the world tilts. his arm snakes around your waist, hauling you back flush against him with a brutal yank that makes your gaming chair screech in protest. your chest meets his, sweat-slick and heaving, as he manhandles you like you weigh nothing.

one hand fists in your hair, wrenching your head back to expose your throat while the other grabs both your wrists, pinning them behind you with crushing ease. "stay still," he groans against your ear, voice ragged with want, and then he’s moving—snapping his hips up hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs, each thrust deeper, meaner, the angle punching ragged moans from your throat.

you’re burning. tears streak down your face, hot and humiliating, but you can’t—fuck, you can’t stop the way your body arches into him, the way your thighs tremble as he fucks up into you with punishing precision. his hand gropes your ass, fingers digging into flesh as he holds you at that perfect, devastating angle, every drag of his cock lighting your nerves on fire.

"that’s it," mark pants, his breath scalding against your shoulder. "take it. fucking take it." his pace turns brutal, the wet slap of skin on skin drowning out the game’s distant lobby music. you don’t care. can’t care. not when he’s ruining you like this, not when every snap of his hips has you sobbing, oversensitive and wrecked but needing more—

"fuck, look at you," he pants against your ear, voice wrecked as he watches his cock disappear into you with every snap of his hips. "taking me so fucking good—god, you feel perfect—" his words dissolve into a whimper when you clench around him, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fucks into you with desperate, uneven thrusts.

you can feel him everywhere—the heat of his chest pressed against yours, the bite of his fingers on your wrists, the relentless stretch as he bottoms out again and again. "gonna—fuck—" mark's warning is barely coherent, his whole body tensing as he pulses inside you, his release hot and overwhelming. but he doesn't stop—can't stop, not when you're still clenching around him, not when your own orgasm is so close.

his hand slips between you, calloused fingers wrapping around your neglected cock, and it only takes three rough strokes before you're coming with a broken cry, painting both your stomachs in streaks of white. mark groans as you tighten around him, his hips stuttering through the aftershocks as he mouths at your shoulder, your neck, anywhere he can reach—like he still can't get enough even now.

mark gathers you against his chest as you both come down, his lips pressing shaky, open-mouthed kisses to whatever skin he can reach—the sweat-damp curve of your temple, the corner of your swollen mouth, the frantic rabbit-quick jump of your pulse. "so good," he mumbles against your throat, voice wrecked and raw. "so fucking perfect for me. missed you—god, missed you so much, baby." his arms lock around you like steel bands, all that stupid superhuman strength trembling with the effort of not crushing you.

you feel him shift—his softening cock dragging slow and filthy out of you, the obscene wet sound making your thighs twitch—then pause. his breath hitches when he sees it: his cum starting to leak from your used hole, glistening in the dim light. a rough noise tears from his throat, and before you can even process it, he's pushing back in with one sharp roll of his hips, the thick head of his cock scooping up the spill and stuffing it back inside you where it belongs. "mine," he growls, biting at your shoulder as he seats himself to the hilt again, making sure not a single drop escapes.

you should shove him off. should snap something scathing about his disgusting possessiveness, his pathetic need to keep you full of him. but your traitorous hands fist in his hair instead, dragging his mouth to yours in a biting kiss as your legs lock around his hips. his groan vibrates through your chest when you arch up, taking him deeper—like you couldn't bear to let him pull away either. pathetic. you're both so fucking pathetic.

so. this was supposed to be a quick little 3-4k one-shot. supposed to be. but then reader and mark decided to have feelings (gross) and now here we are at 7.7k words of competitive gaming, unresolved tension, and mark being��absolutely insufferable (affectionate). whoops? anyway, hope you enjoyed this self-indulgent mess as much as i enjoyed writing it—because honestly, i have no regrets.

[fnzktn]

bubble gum

danielle marsh x 6th member!reader

established relationship, fluff, slight angst, comfort

synopsis: ever since newjeans debuted, you have brought nothing but controversies. but god damn it, do they bring good publicity and more fans to the group.

but then one day, a certain company wanted to take advantage of that. 

contains: secret dating, mentions of h*be🤢, jiwoo of h2h, loser!r, gamer!r, (lmk if i should add more!)

word count: 7.4k

ador is actually in shambles right now. another unhinged sentence came out of your mouth during a live.

you were playing League of Legends (without your manager’s approval, by the way), the tripod was positioned in front of your torso, your phone streaming your computer screen. you were trying out a new strategy of doing an AD LeBlanc instead of the typical AP route.

needless to say, bunnies and your teammates were not happy with your choice. the moment your mouse hovered over the Trinity Force item, they were already spamming your chat, asking what the hell you were doing.

26 minutes into the game, you have 5 items in your inventory, 18 kills, and 0 deaths, they were not saying much anymore. except your team’s jungler, Nunu.

the enemy team was attacking the dragon. all 5 of them. his little monkey brain decided to go in and ult, expecting a penta kill. did he at least kill one of them or steal the dragon? no. he died within seconds of going in.

and of course, he decided to blame you. the one that was actually carrying the team. he was pinging your character, flaming you in chat with profanities that surely will get him banned.

[Team] Nunu & Willump: lb u piece of shit i literally get zero help

[Team] Nunu & Willump: we couldve gotten an ace but ur just standing there waiting for some kills to steal like a fukin npc

[All] Nunu & Willump: report lb for trolling pls

“what the hell is wrong with this guy?” you exclaimed, effortlessly killing 3 of the enemy team and even managing to steal the dragon. “not my fault you’re braindead. like, who in their mind would go in and expect something good despite being 2/7/4? you’re barely in your third item, you bozo!”

[Team] LeBlanc: aw gonna cry to mommy? tell her how lb hurts ur wee lil feelings? :(

you decided to hide the in-game chat, knowing that slurs and more profanities are going to be sent by Nunu because you provoked him. you’re already going to get in trouble for streaming a game without proper consent—you weren’t going to dig yourself a deeper grave by exposing bunnies to the toxic environment that is low elo gameplay.

instead, you shifted your whole focus on trying to win the game despite two of your teammates purposely dying. one of the turrets protecting the enemy team’s nexus was destroyed by you. you were alone, trying to finish the game early because you were tired of the dead weight that is your team. seeing this as an opportunity to finally give you your first death, all 5 of the enemy team jumped you. you killed them with ease, one by one, securing yourself a pentakill. i mean, would they even stand a chance against a full build 26/0/9 LeBlanc?

“I’M THE NEXT FUCKING FAKER! I’M SO GOOD THAT T1 IS GONNA OFFER ME A CONTRACT BECAUSE I'M THE GOAT!” you screamed, jumping behind the camera with your hands still on your keyboard and mouse. 

the last turret fell and the nexus was destroyed. a victory screen was in front of you and bunnies. the chat went crazy, praising you and saying different variations of ‘congratulations’ with some occasional: 

‘wow this woman really is crazyᄏᄏ’ 

‘no way she actually did it’

‘sybau y/n🥀’

just as you were about to take your phone off the tripod to show your face and talk to your fans, a text message from your manager saying ‘End the live. We need to talk. Right NOW.’ appeared on top of your screen.

you chuckled nervously, “i need to go now, bunnies! the game drained me and i’m tired. i’ll talk to you guys again soon! bye!” and with that, you quickly ended the live.

you were reprimanded. heavily. saying stuff about how they are very disappointed in you, and that they will not hesitate to put you on hiatus if the parties involved (Faker and T1) do not receive your words well.

danielle, who was watching your live from start to finish, knew that something was wrong when your farewell to bunnies was rushed. usually, you would yap for 20 minutes more despite already saying that you were going to leave soon.

she made her way to your room, knocking softly before opening the door. she didn’t wait for a response. didn’t have to. it was something you and danielle agreed upon when you first started dating.

there you were, sprawled on your bed with your head buried on the plushie that danielle won for you (she’ll never reveal to you how much money she lost trying to win that damn minion plush). your headset was tossed carelessly to the side, and the slight shaking of your shoulders told her more than enough.

“hey,” she started softly, rubbing your back, “what did they say?”

you groaned, not lifting your head. “that i should watch my mouth and i would be in a month-long hiatus if i didn’t.”

she let out a quiet hum and pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder, her hand never stopping its comforting strokes.

“do you want me to make you something?” she asked after a beat, voice low and careful, like she knew you’d only eaten cereal and coffee today. “or we could just order from that chinese place you like. the one with the angry dumplings.”

you let out a muffled laugh against the plush. “you mean the really spicy ones?”

“yes, but you always tear up and get all snotty eating them. so angry dumplings.”

“i’d like that,” you mumbled.

danielle chuckled and kissed your temple, then gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “okay, angry dumplings it is. but you’re cuddling with me while we wait, i missed you.”

you finally lifted your head just a bit to look at her. “you’re not mad?”

“at you? never.” her hand slid down to intertwine your fingers. “but if they really try to put you on hiatus, i’m giving them a piece of my mind.”

you grinned, putting a hand on your chest. “my hero.”

“always,” she whispered, and kissed the tip of your nose.

the explosion didn’t happen all at once.

at first, it was a quiet hum— couple of clips on twitter, few thousand views on tiktok, and a mid-level panic in the PR group chat.

but within twelve hours after your live, the ripple turned into a full-on wave.

a huge LoL related account had posted the clip of you declaring that you were the next Faker, captioning it, “this kpop girl just solo-carried, roasted her toxic jungler, AD LeBlanc, all while saying she’s the next faker”

and then the real chaos started.

because the official T1 twitter account saw it and quote-tweeted it.

@/T1LoL: sign the contract big girl, sign the contract

the post had over 100,000 likes in under six hours. (did they really have to quote mike tyson?) 

and if that wasn’t already a death sentence or a badge of honor (you couldn’t decide which), Faker himself went live later that night— and of course, chat spammed him with your name the second he turned his cam on.

“oh, y/n from newjeans?” he asked, amused. “yeah, i saw the clip.”

he smiled genuinely and added, “26/0/9? that’s not easy. not even in low elo. she’s actually decent. kind of aggressive, though.”

then, after a pause:

“but that AD build on LeBlanc… yeah, no. that was criminal, but somehow she managed to make it work. you’d need talent for that.”

“if i retire, please put y/n in our roster.”

ADOR’s PR team originally drafted a formal apology.

they had the whole thing ready — tight, polished, apologetic without being too apologetic — until someone on the social media team pointed out that most of the backlash had already turned into applause.

so instead of an apology, they rewrote the statement.

NewJeans’ Y/N recently shared an unscheduled but heartfelt gaming stream with fans. While we acknowledge the concerns about language and the importance of mindful online interaction, we ask for understanding. We also want to thank everyone—especially the League of Legends community—for the surprising and overwhelming support.

your merch sales reportedly spiked that week. huh.

you didn’t think much of it at first.

your schedule just said ‘internal sync meeting’ – three words that could mean anything from an updated media briefing to a light dressing down over your most recent quote trending on stan twitter. you showed up five minutes late, iced americano in one hand, hair still damp from the shower. you hadn’t even bothered to put on make up.

the room smelled like burnt coffee and unease.

a mix of too many overused essential oil diffusers, the dull hum of industrial-strength air conditioning, and the constant clicking of keyboards filled the sterile hybe conference room. two men in suits sat on one side of long black table, a third slightly off-center-someone from SM, you assumed, based on the lanyard he has around his neck.

you sat slowly, your iced americano suddenly tastes too sharp against your tongue. a thin gray folder in front of you, unopened. your nails picked at the edge of the manila cover. it had your name written on it. in sharpie.

beside you, your manager’s boss, had a tablet in front of her but hadn’t touched it since the meeting began. you were told she was here to “make sure you were okay”.  she hadn’t made eye contact with you once.

“thanks for coming in on short notice,” one of the SM reps said, hands folded on the table like this was a negotiation. beside him, a woman — someone you recognized from ador’s PR team — smiled like she’d rehearsed it.

Your own manager gave you a nod from the corner. you frowned.

“what’s this about?” you asked.

they didn’t answer right away. Instead, the rep tapped the screen of a tablet and slid it towards you.

on it: a media tracker. articles, tweets, graphs. your name. trending charts. Thumbnails from videos with titles like “4th gen it girl” “why y/n is the only interesting idol right now.” one had your freeze-frame from music bank with the caption, “NewJeans’ y/n - idol or menace?”

“you’ve been talked about a lot lately,” he said. “consistently.”

you glanced down, finding the condensation on the side of your iced coffee much more interesting than whatever this was. “i didn’t even do anything this week.”

“exactly,” the woman chimed in, her tone light. “that’s the point. you trend even when you don’t mean to. it’s something we think is… useful.”

you blinked slowly. “useful for what?”

the SM rep smiled, folding his hands. “we’re launching a push for our rookie girl group – hearts2hearts. you know them?”

“kind of,” you muttered. you’d seen their debut on music core. clean choreo, pretty styling, stable vocals. their music video already had over 20 million views. that was good, especially for a rookie group.

“they’re doing well,” you added, cautiously.

“they are,” the woman said quickly, “but we’re aiming higher. aespa-level buzz. and to be completely honest, we’re missing the noise. we need a little unpredictability. we need people talking.”

“and that involves me how?”

“you’re the most talked about idol right now. it would benefit everyone involved.”

“what we’re saying is that we want to stage a casual meetup. between you and their leader, jiwoo.” the man said.

your brow furrowed.

“a staged hangout. something that can pass off as spontaneous. han river. picnic blanket. snacks. some walking, talking, laughing. maybe some matching accessories.”

you stared.

“matching–?”

“the point is to make it believable, not scandalous. just two young idols vibing on their day off. and if the public happens to like the chemistry…”

you put the coffee down slowly. “...you’d want a fake relationship,” you continued, voice flat.

“eventually, yes. but right now, friendship. and we want a mutually beneficial moment,” the PR woman corrected.

“and how is this beneficial to me?” you asked, leaning forward now.

there was a pause. not awkward — just rehearsed. like they’d been waiting for the question, unsure how to answer it without saying the quiet part out loud.

“well,” the ador rep started, carefully, “not everything needs to be transactional, right?”

you didn’t respond. didn’t blink. just watched as she shifted in her seat.

“sometimes it’s about… showing goodwill,” she added. “being a team player. stepping up for the industry. and truthfully, there aren’t many idols who could pull this off without it looking obvious.”

the sm rep nodded. “you have a certain… credibility. people believe whatever you do is real. that kind of authenticity can’t be manufactured.”

you tilted your head slightly. “but this is manufactured.”

“sure,” he said, as if that part didn’t matter. “but if you do it, it won’t feel like it.”

you could hear what wasn’t being said — that you didn’t need more fans, or buzz, or press. that the only thing you stood to gain was keeping the machine running, uninterrupted. that your ‘benefit’ was staying exactly where you were: talked about. watched. useful.

which, you realized, was just a nicer way of saying: you get nothing, but please make this look good anyway.

“so let me get this straight,” you said slowly. “your rookie group is doing objectively well — millions of views, good public response. and yet, that’s not enough.”

they hesitated.

you added, “you want aespa numbers.”

“aespa-level popularity, yes,” the woman admitted. “and to get there, we need a jolt. a shift in narrative. and right now, you are the narrative.”

you didn’t reply.

“just meet her once,” the SM rep added. “talk. feel it out. we’ll set a follow-up meeting with the two of you in the same room, and if you both agree, we’ll go ahead with planning the shoot.”

a pause. just long enough to be uncomfortable. 

“what if i say no?” you finally asked.

silence. then:

“then we remind you that your contract includes clauses regarding promotional obligations and collaborative projects,” the hybe rep said.

you didn’t respond. not because you agreed—hell no—but because you felt your own fury curling up behind your ribs, white-hot and petty. you’d say something sharp if you opened your mouth again. something too honest. something you’d regret later.

they wrapped the meeting shortly after. they didn’t need your input. just your face, your presence, your “controversial charm.”

you didn’t tell danielle that night.

you could have.

she made you dinner. sesame noodles with crisp vegetables and a soft-boiled egg, cut just the way you liked. she’d even remembered the seaweed. you sat together in the little kitchen corner where the late-night light came in warm and drowsy. the floor beneath you was cold but she kept pressing her knee into yours like it meant something, like the touch would anchor you there a little longer.

she was smiling when she talked about her day. not the big stuff—just little things. how hanni dropped her phone in the cereal. how minji sneezed seven times in a row and tried to claim it was a hidden talent. you were smiling too, or at least you thought you were.

but there was a hollow kind of sound to your laughter that didn’t sit quite right in your chest.

you curled into her later, both of you tucked under her favorite yellow blanket, her hand resting on your hip. she always slept warm. one of those people who radiated comfort, even when she was dreaming. her breath was slow and even, and you counted them like seconds until you fell asleep too.

you didn’t tell her.

not because you wanted to keep it from her.

but because saying it out loud felt like betraying something.

you had done fan service before. lived in it, actually — turned it into a second language, one that required no subtitles. so when you were told that today would be “natural,” you already knew what that meant: curated spontaneity. manufactured ease.

they picked the han river for a reason.

picturesque, but public. wide, open grass that caught the light perfectly. enough civilians walking by that it wouldn’t feel suspicious. enough distance that no one could hear what you were saying.

you were seated on a checkered blanket. picnic basket placed just right, snacks barely touched, drinks arranged with label sides forward. haerin would’ve rolled her eyes at the effort. hanni would've fixed the food to look prettier.

you tried not to think about them too much.

jiwoo sat across from you, knees tucked under her skirt, hands folded neatly in her lap. she looked calm, but you recognized the stillness — that media-trained tension in her shoulders, the constant awareness of where the invisible cameras might be. the two of you had been told Dispatch might be “in the area.” they weren’t subtle. they never were.

still, you both pretended you didn’t know they were watching.

“have you had anything to eat today?” jiwoo asked gently.

you shook your head. “no. i forgot.”

she pushed an onigiri towards you. “this is my favorite, try it.”

you took it, murmured a soft thanks. chewed slowly.

the conversation was light, intentionally forgettable. favorite drinks, training stories, pets. something about a dance move from a stage you couldn’t even remember doing. you tried to listen, really — but your mind kept drifting back to the meeting that started all this.

the breeze picked up. a paper napkin fluttered off the basket and you reached for it at the same time as jiwoo. your fingers brushed. instinctively, you pulled back.

you heard the faint click of a camera nearby.

dispatch was here.

jiwoo straightened, tucked her hair behind her ear, and smiled as if you’d just told her something funny. you laughed too — or mimicked the sound of it. not too loud. not too quiet. just enough to sell it.

you passed her a bottle of yogurt drink, and she took it like you’d done it a thousand times before.

“this feels weird,” you said under your breath.

“it is weird,” she replied, tone light. “but at least we look good.”

you looked at her, amused by the honesty. she smiled, a little apologetic, a little grateful.

“we only have to do this once, right?” you asked.

“hopefully,” she said.

for a moment, the two of you sat in silence, watching the water.

the blanket rustled under your weight as you leaned back, arms stretched behind you, face tilted toward the sky. you closed your eyes, breathed in the late afternoon air, and pretended you weren’t waiting for your phone to blow up.

when it did, later — when the “rumored meet-up” headlines hit, when the blurry but perfectly angled photos surfaced on twitter and forums and fan accounts — you were already back in the van. already watching the reactions roll in.

but that would come later.

for now, you tilted your head to jiwoo and asked, “how much longer do we need to stay?”

she glanced at her watch. “twenty minutes. max.”

you nodded. “let’s make it count.”

she grinned. “let’s give them something to talk about.”

it started like most dispatch drops did.

no warning. no statement. no teaser.

just a photo.

the han river glowing gold, a girl in beige pants and a soft blue sweatshirt, leaning back on her hands. another girl, legs tucked to the side, holding a yogurt drink, smiling at her like they’d shared the same inside joke. wind in their hair. effortless. soft. intentional.

the caption was simple.

“Hearts2Hearts’ Jiwoo and NewJeans’ Y/N spotted enjoying an afternoon together. Casual senior-junior hang out or something more?”

hashtags followed. speculations.

within minutes, it was trending.

within an hour, it was global.

‘omg????’

‘the duo we never knew we needed’

‘this looks staged lmao’

‘they look so good tgt omg power couple in the making???’

‘y/n better leave h2h alone, they’ve only been in the industry for 2 months PLEASE😭’

danielle wasn’t surprised when the article dropped.

she had known something was coming. you told her before you left for the shoot, your voice unsure but trying to sound casual, the way someone might explain that they accidentally knocked over a vase but everything was fine now. 

you didn’t downplay it, not really — you told her the truth. sm wanted you and jiwoo to stage a hangout. it was a publicity stunt, a photo opportunity. han river, a picnic setup, dispatch on standby. “they think it’ll bring attention to her group,” you said, fingers twisting at the hem of your sweatshirt. “it’s not a big deal. they said we just have to look like we’re having fun.”

 you didn’t ask her directly if it was okay, but danielle could feel the question wedged in every pause. still, she smiled, nodded, and offered an “i get it” that sounded steadier than it felt.

because what else was she supposed to do? say no? tell you to back out and risk making a mess of something your company clearly already agreed to?

so when the first photo appeared later that day — not through any official announcement, but through a now-familiar Dispatch-style drop — she wasn’t shocked. still, the moment she saw it, a strange ache bloomed in her chest. her thumb hovered over the image on her screen, heart beating a little too loud in her ears. 

you were there, exactly like you’d described. legs stretched out on a gingham blanket, soft blue sweater catching the breeze just enough to make the hem flutter. beside you, jiwoo leaned in close, holding a yogurt drink, smiling at you like the two of you had been friends for years. the kind of smile people could easily mistake as something more.

danielle’s first instinct wasn’t to panic or jump to conclusions. no, it was subtler than that. it was a weight behind her ribs, the kind of heaviness that made her blink too slowly. she studied the photo again, noticing the things other people might miss — how your eyes crinkled, how your hands were placed neatly in your lap, how the sunlight hit just right. and how none of it looked posed. it was natural. effortless. exactly what sm and hybe wanted.

she didn’t go running to you. she didn’t text you a storm of anxious questions. instead, she lay on her bed, one leg curled beneath her, the other swinging slightly off the edge, her phone still in her hand. she didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but the longer she stared at the image, the more it hurt. not because she doubted you, not because she thought anything happened — but because of how well you had to play pretend. how easy you made it look. and because everyone else was going to see that and think they knew something about you. something they didn’t.

she closed her phone, but that didn’t help. she opened it again ten seconds later. instagram, twitter, tiktok, a loop of checking and rechecking — like maybe one of those places would offer something that made it sting less. instead, all she found were screenshots, cropped photos, confused fans theorizing. some of them laughed about how staged it all looked. others pointed out how “comfortable” you and jiwoo seemed. the comments weren’t malicious, but they chipped away at her mood like water dripping on stone.

danielle put in her earbuds eventually. turned on something gentle — soft piano, slow vocals, nothing too dramatic. just enough to let her thoughts wander without completely drowning in them. she watched the ceiling for a while, then turned her head and let her cheek press into the pillow. the quiet filled the space around her, heavy and unmoving.

when you finally walked into the room later, the air shifted. you didn’t say anything right away, and neither did she. you just sat down slowly on the edge of her bed, pulling your sleeves over your hands, the way you always did when you didn’t know what to say. you didn’t ask if she saw it. of course she had.

danielle turned her head to look at you, her expression unreadable at first. you looked tired — not just physically, but in the way your shoulders sagged a little more than usual. she could see it in your eyes, the guilt that lingered even though you hadn’t done anything wrong.

still, she didn’t ask you to explain. didn’t demand reassurance. instead, she reached out and gently tapped her phone screen to pause the music. then, without a word, she passed you one of her earbuds.

you took it.

you leaned in, resting your head lightly on her thigh, like you weren’t sure you were allowed to. she let you. her fingers instinctively found your hair, combing through it slowly, like she’d done so many times before. the music resumed, soft and melancholy.

the silence stretched long between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

because she wasn’t angry. not really.

she just missed you. even with you right there.

danielle didn’t speak at first.

her fingers stayed in your hair, tracing slow, careful lines across your scalp. the kind of absentminded affection she only gave when she didn’t feel like putting anything into words yet. you let yourself melt into it, cheek warm against her thigh, eyes unfocused, staring past the comforter and into nothing at all.

you stayed like that for a while. the music hummed quietly in the background. it was a song you both liked, but neither of you were listening. not really.

“you looked happy in the photos,” danielle said eventually, so softly it almost didn’t feel real.

your throat tightened. “i didn’t mean to.”

“i know,” she sighed. not upset, not cold—just tired. “i just… noticed.”

you turned your face slightly, enough so you could see her from where you were lying. she didn’t look like she was joking, but she wasn’t bitter either. there was a calmness to her, a kind of weary acceptance that made your chest ache.

“i tried to tell them no at first,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “i told them hearts2hearts is already doing well. i told them their debut video has over twenty million views—like, they’re fine. they don’t need this.”

danielle nodded, like she already knew.

you shifted, pulling your hand from under the pillow to fidget with the end of your sleeve. “they said they want aespa-level attention. aespa-level noise.”

she gave a dry little laugh through her nose. “so they picked you.”

you didn’t know what to say to that.

she ran her thumb along your hairline. “i get why they did. you’ve been everywhere lately. people don’t stop talking about you.”

you flinched, but she caught it. her hand stilled for a moment.

“not your fault,” she added gently. “i know you didn’t ask for this stuff.”

you looked up at her, eyes glossy. “i didn’t want it to feel real.”

danielle’s expression softened even more—if that was possible. she leaned back against the headboard, letting out a long breath. “it didn’t. not to me.”

you let out a breath too, shaky and quiet. “really?”

“yeah.” she smiled a little, brushing a strand of your hair aside. “i know what you look like when you’re really happy. i know how you laugh when it’s real. and that… that wasn’t it.”

you swallowed, guilt thick in your throat. “it still sucks though.”

“it does,” she agreed, because she didn’t want to lie. “but we’re okay.”

you blinked. “are we?”

danielle didn’t hesitate. “yeah. we’re okay.”

you closed your eyes at that, pressing your face into her leg like you could hide there for a while. her fingers found your hair again, picking up where she left off. she didn’t rush you. didn’t ask for anything more.

just held you like she always did.

quietly. tenderly. like she knew this was just another part of the storm, and the two of you would ride it out together.

within a day, hearts2hearts saw a spike in their streaming numbers. fancams of jiwoo at past music shows resurfaced. clips from their debut showcase hit trending, especially those highlighting jiwoo’s stage presence and visuals. people wanted to know who this girl was. who was close enough to be seen with y/n — the y/n, the ‘problem child (lovingly)’ of newjeans, the center of every forum thread lately.

the sm execs were, reportedly, thrilled. insiders leaked that they’d been hoping for just this: buzz, speculation, google searches. even the doubt surrounding the authenticity of the meeting played into their hands. “controversy creates interest,” one staff member was quoted anonymously. “and interest builds momentum.”

you heard that SM gave a hefty amount to hybe and ador as thanks. kind of unfair that they didn’t give you a percentage of it, to be honest. you did most of the work after all.

you didn’t mean to write a song. not at first.

it started during one of those rare quiet weeks — a break between promotions, schedules light enough for the dorm to actually feel like a home again. late nights meant low music, acoustic strings, and you sitting on the floor with hanni’s guitar balanced comfortably in your lap. not borrowed this time. you’d asked, and she’d waved a hand, told you to take it like it already belonged to you.

you weren’t a beginner. you’d learned to play long before debut — enough to strum smoothly, build chords, mess around with melody when the mood struck. hanni was still leagues ahead of you, her playing effortless in a way you admired but didn’t try to chase. still, you could hold your own— enough to turn a passing thought into something real.

you weren’t trying to write lyrics that night. you were just playing, letting muscle memory carry you, repeating a soft loop that sounded warmer the longer it stretched. something sweet. something almost too light to hold onto.

danielle had been on your mind.

she’d always been on your mind lately. (when did she ever leave?)

especially now, when it felt like the rest of your world was being steered by other people’s decisions. meetings you hadn’t asked for. texts from your manager about follow-up “check-ins” with jiwoo, vague phrasing that left little room to decline. they’d never used the word “date”. not even once. but that’s exactly how it was starting to feel. manufactured intimacy, scheduled like it was any other content shoot. just this time, the cameras were from Dispatch, not the company. none of it your choice, not really. 

and somewhere between the third repetition and the quiet in your chest, the words started forming. not heavy ones. nothing about heartbreak or longing. just the soft things. how danielle’s voice made the air feel warmer. how her laugh was something you looked forward to. how being around her made you feel like your shoes had lifted half an inch off the ground.

you didn’t write it down that night. just hummed through it, fingers tracing the shape of the chorus on the strings.

a couple nights later, hanni passed your room, then doubled back. leaned on the doorframe, brow raised.

“what is that?”

you blinked. “what’s what?”

“that,” she nodded at the guitar, where your hands had just been moving. “you’ve been playing the same thing for the past twenty minutes.”

you hesitated. “just a thing i’m messing with.”

hanni padded in, plopped down cross-legged on your bed. “play it again.”

you did. sheepish. a little shy.

she listened. tilted her head. “you’ve got something there.”

and just like that, she was in. offering tweaks, pointing out where a melody could tighten. adding little touches to the instrumental as you mumbled potential lyrics under your breath. she never pried. never asked what — or who — it was about. just helped shape it. (i mean, who are we kidding? hanni definitely knows who it was about.)

when you played the demo for your team, you weren’t sure what you were expecting. maybe a polite head tilt. maybe it’s cute, but let’s shelf it for now.

instead, your ceo was grinning before it even hit the second chorus. “this is good,” she said. “really good. i want you to do more in the future.”

you nodded, stunned.

but even then — even with the green light, the credits, the polished version lined up neatly on the album — what stayed with you most was the way danielle had smiled when she first heard it.

soft. unreadable at first. then, slowly, unmistakably warm.

like she knew. even before anyone else. even before you said a word.

eventually, hanni’s name and yours both end up in the producer credits.

and the lyrics?

they weren’t dramatic. not poetic in the way people might expect. but they were yours.

you added how your heart beat a little faster every time she walked into a room. about the small thrill of getting ready to see her, despite living together. about the secret sort of joy that made you feel like you were floating — high up, like a balloon that couldn’t be pulled back down.

it was a song full of sugar and soft crushes and pink-tinted feelings. light as air. sticky, sweet, like the candy it was named after.

bubble gum.

by the time the comeback rolled out, fans were already curious. the moment the tracklist was posted and you were credited as the sole songwriter — with you and hanni also tagged as producers — theories spread like wildfire.

people analyzed every line. made lyric videos. pointed fingers. and of course, one name kept popping up: jiwoo.

some swore the song had to be about her. others said it was a clever misdirect. the debate carried on for days, louder than anything you’d expected. a mess you didn’t mean to make. (you just wanted to make a song about being utterly in love with your girlfriend, for god’s sake.)

“it has to be about jiwoo,” a fan had tweeted. “they had their little han river picnic era right when she would've been writing this. the timing adds up.”

“maybe it’s just about love in general?” another chimed in. “but y/n doesn’t do general. she always writes about something specific. this sounds like someone real.”

ador hadn’t said anything. sm didn’t say anything either. but the comments piled up. jiwoo’s name trended alongside yours. again. pictures of your recent ‘hangout’ at a cafe in hannam were being paired with bubble gum on tiktok. people made edits. made assumptions. built stories out of half-truths and blurry photos.

it was one of those sleek, polished interview sets — glossy table, soft white lighting, everyone in coordinating pastel outfits that made all of you look like you were dropped out of a spring daydream. newjeans had just wrapped up a music show stage, and now you were seated in a semicircle across from a seasoned interviewer, surrounded by cameras, staff, and publicists lurking just out of frame.

the questions started out light — the new ep, behind-the-scenes moments, favorite snacks. danielle answered one with her usual brightness, hanni made the room laugh with her dry timing, and you found yourself playing with the hem of your sleeve, listening.

but then the topic shifted.

“now, let’s talk about bubble gum,” the interviewer said, glancing down at their notes. “the response has been huge. but what’s really fascinating is that the song credits list only one lyricist — y/n — and one of the producers are her and hanni as well. can you walk us through that process?”

there was a beat of silence. you smiled softly, eyes flickering down to the floor for a second. you could feel the shape of danielle’s knee lightly brushing yours under the table — a casual touch that no one would see, but it grounded you.

“i wasn’t really planning to write anything for the album,” you said, voice calm, measured. “i just started... toying around with hanni unnie’s guitar one night. i didn’t think it’d go anywhere.”

“and the melody?” the interviewer asked.

hanni jumped in, grinning. “she kept borrowing my guitar. like, for weeks. we’d be in the dorm, and i’d hear the same chords over and over again from the living room and when i pass by her room. it got stuck in my head before the lyrics did.”

that earned a laugh from the group, and you ducked your head slightly, cheeks pink with quiet embarrassment. “it just... fit. i didn’t even realize it was turning into something until hanni unnie helped me lay out the chords properly. correctly.”

the interviewer nodded, clearly pleased, and then, like clockwork: “it’s a really tender song. very specific, very emotional. was there a particular inspiration behind it? someone you were thinking of?”

the room was still. the lights were just a little too bright. your fingers, hidden beneath the table, found danielle’s. a brush of fingertips. not quite a hold. but danielle’s hand shifted toward yours instinctively, a quiet answering touch that only the two of you noticed.

you didn’t look directly at her. just slightly to her side. enough.

“i think,” you started, voice calm and almost amused, “some songs don’t try to hide what they are.”

you rested your other hand in your lap, fingers brushing over your rings. “they’re not metaphors. they’re not abstract. they just… describe a feeling exactly as it happened. like how someone makes your heart race. or how getting ready to see them suddenly feels like the most important part of your day.”

danielle didn’t look at you either, but her cheeks were dusted pink, lips pressed together as if holding in a laugh or a secret. under the table, her thumb brushed over your knuckles once.

“bubble gum is like that,” you continued. “it’s made up of little things. tiny, honest moments. someone’s laugh, the way they speak, the way time starts feeling like it’s only yours when they’re around.”

you shrugged lightly, like the song hadn’t come from your own heart. “so maybe it’s not a mystery, you know? maybe it’s just what it sounds like.”

danielle didn’t say anything, didn’t even move, but under the table her pinky slipped to hook around yours—so quickly no one would notice.

the interviewer tilted their head, trying again. “so it’s safe to say it’s drawn from personal experience?”

“i’d say,” you said with a nod, “it’s drawn from memory. but mostly romance movies, though.”

the subject shifted after that, onto choreography challenges and trainee days, but the atmosphere had changed slightly. warmer. softer.

and when all of you stood to take post-interview photos, danielle reached for your hand — just briefly — while you waited for the photographer to count down.

“a moment,” danielle whispered under her breath, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “that’s how you described me?”

“you’re the gum part,” you whispered back. “sweet. sticks with me.”

danielle rolled her eyes, but her fingers never left yours until the flash went off.

the dorm was alive that night, full of the soft chaos that only came after an interview day and too many shared inside jokes. makeup off, pajamas on, the members had settled into their usual post-schedule routine — limbs tangled over the floor and couch, snack wrappers scattered across the coffee table, someone’s playlist humming faintly from a speaker in the corner.

“you’re actually insane,” hanni declared dramatically from across the room, “you held her hand under the table. that’s, like, the oldest ‘we’re secretly dating’ move ever!”

you groaned into the couch cushion. “we weren’t even holding hands—”

“we saw you,” minji interrupted, lying flat on the floor with a bowl of ice cream balanced on her stomach. “don’t even try to lie to us. the only way dani would smile like that is when she’s being all lovey-dovey with you.”

“the way you looked at her when you were asked if it’s about someone?” hyein chimed in from the kitchen, one eyebrow raised as she stirred honey into her tea. “oh my god.”

“i was being genuine!” you protested, your voice pitching upward in desperation. “that’s how normal people talk about their songs!”

“nah,” hanni said, leaning back and mimicking your expression during the interview — eyes half-lidded, lips parted just slightly, voice low and dreamy. “‘a feeling that lingers. that stays with you. one you don’t want to let go of’ — like be serious. i thought you were gonna propose to dani right then and there.”

“you guys are so dramatic,” you muttered, though your face was already burning.

“it’s embarrassing, really,” hanni added. “you sat there all dreamy-eyed, talking about feelings and moments and whatever. no wonder people still think you and jiwoo have a thing.”

minji licked her spoon slowly. “you really thought you were being vague, huh? sweetie, you folded so hard. you said ‘it’s not really about a person,’ and then stared directly at your girlfriend like you were reliving the entire demo session in your head. i’d be surprised if people are still going to talk about you and jiwoo when the interview comes out.”

you groaned again and flung the pillow across the room, where it landed harmlessly against the base of a chair. “i’m never writing another love song again.”

“sure,” haerin replied calmly, her tone utterly unconvinced. “until next comeback, when we find lyrics like ‘your voice is my sunrise’ and realize it’s about danielle ordering iced coffees for you.”

“that was one time!” you said, sitting up. “ we were trainees–we were young and she remembered my order— that’s just— that’s—”

“—so romantic,” a familiar voice teased behind you, light and airy.

you turned to see danielle walking in with two cups of tea, that ever-gentle smile on her face. she handed one to you and settled beside you on the couch, tucking her feet under her and leaning in just enough that her arm pressed against yours.

“thank you for immortalizing my coffee order in verse,” she added, taking a sip.

“i hate it here,” you grumbled, but you were already smiling. it was hard not to, especially when danielle’s eyes crinkled the way they did.

hanni screamed into a throw blanket. minji groaned loudly and rolled over. haerin just shook her head, amused.

“anyway,” hyein finally piped up from where she was curled in a chair, phone in hand. “if you really don’t want them to speculate, maybe don’t, like, write the sappiest song in our discography.”

“i was subtle!” you insisted weakly.

there was a pause. and then a chorus of groans.

“get out,” hanni muttered, tossing a pillow at you.

but no one meant it. it was all part of the rhythm of your group — the teasing, the closeness, the safe space to unravel. eventually, the conversation shifted to stage outfits and how brutal the next day’s rehearsals would be. but you and danielle stayed quiet in your corner of the couch, pressed together, content in the lull that followed the chaos.

the room around you buzzed in quiet tones, but your world felt slower — gentler — tucked into this moment with her.

you didn’t speak for a while. just sipped your tea, now slightly cooled, letting the silence wrap around you both. her hand rested on your knee, warm and steady. yours covered it after a while, fingers slotting into place like it was second nature.

danielle’s head tilted toward you, her voice soft. “you really wrote it for me?”

you glanced at her, at the way her expression held something unspoken. she already knew the answer — had known it from the moment you showed her the demo, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. but hearing it out loud, even just between you two, was different. it meant different.

your answer came not in words, but in the way your fingers gently squeezed hers. in the way your eyes didn’t waver when you looked at her. in the way your silence was filled with meaning.

she leaned in, resting her head on your shoulder, a quiet smile playing on her lips.

“write more,” she whispered, barely audible, a secret meant just for you. “even if no one hears it. even if it’s just us.”

you pressed a quick kiss on her head.

“i will.”

a/n: first fic, yay!

[aj-jesterdude]

ok i need to fucking talk about the hsbc upd8. holy shit. so good. but i wanna focus on our new friends, gavageCunctation and their crew. So first thing I noticed was that all of them have the same two-letter combinations that the trolls did. gavageCunctation [GC] -> gallowsCalibrator is also [GC]. they also mention an AA (Aradia's was apocalypseArisen) and a TC (Gamzee's was terminallyCapricious). So what's the deal with that? I've got no clue. Maybe Ult!Dirk threw that in for me specifically to puzzle out. Now what does gavageCunctation actually...mean? Gavage is "the administration of food or drugs by force, especially to an animal, typically through a tube leading down the throat to the stomach." Cunctation is to hestitate or delay. So...delaying forced eating/forced intoxication? Perhaps this relates to the way they're hesitant on playing the game. Cunctation could also tie into their quirk. Speaking of their quirk! It's a bomb! the "o" is the bomb, the dashes are the fuse, and the * is the spark. They use it to switch tones, bouncing between a nonchalant carefree sort of vibe to a more serious, "Doomer 8ullshit" one. It runs out right at the end of the conversation, and their computer explodes, so maybe it's a way to track an actual bomb in their room? They mention this being a common occurance:

GC: mine was alright, almost got my stupid ass blown to the high hells as per usual but not much other than that...

GC: haha that would be devastating right? GC: and it could happen so easily.

GC: o-------*

GC: a petrifying thought...

GC: o------*

GC: yet i still stay up to my buccal mass in volatile materials.

GC: it's a real addiction haha...

They also do it with their parentheses! (like so!)---* Really neat quirk!!! Now onto AA and TC. We have very little to go on with them. AA is described as an oracle, but also *not* an oracle. Seemingly magic, and a manipulative meddler fussy type. Odds are she's Rose's species, that sounds very Rose. I think GC might be a Satyr. AA is oddly insistent on playing the game, it seems... TC we have even less. All we know is that this SBURB session is described as "TC's game". Maybe they're the one who compiled the code like Sollux did? That's all we got for now and just. I'm over the moon. New species...finally...anyways thanks for reading this I guess

[snoopcco]

제이 — boyfriend! jay gets jealous because reader can’t seem to shut up about her idol and how much she was praising him. 👼 warning jay gets really possessive and a little bit mad <3 (for my babez dia) 🫶

JAY KNEW HIS GIRLFRIEND WAS A FAN GIRL. she wasn't a hard core fan, but it could be counted as a hobby for her. she spends money to see her idols, she giggles over her idols, she was a typical fan girl.

occasionally, this didn't make jay any jealous to her surprise. well sometimes, he could be a bit envious to his own girlfriend thirsting over her idols.

but he knew she was his and he was somehow better than her any of her biases and idols.

currently, the girl was laying on jay's lap. while she was on her phone as he watched her, playing with her hair gently, looking at her with admiration.

she was scrolling through her tiktok feed, denying the fact how sleepy she was due to the fact of how soft her boyfriend, jay, was softly caressing her hair.

she felt her eyes drooping, accepting that she wanted to sleep badly, she scrolled one more time and then closed her eyes.

until she realized, she scrolled past a video of her ult bias. she couldnt believe her eyes, her ult bias was practically naked with no shirt on, only a few chains wrapped around his neck, a black jacket falling of his shoulders that covered nothing, and black baggy pants that made her ult's waist drastically smaller.

"OH! MY! GOD!" the girl sprung up from the couch, suddenly gaining all the energy in the world. jay suddenly flinched when he saw his girlfriend jump with her phone practically glued to her face. "baby, what is it?" he stood up in curiosity, peeking on the side of her shoulder to see her phone.

"jay! look at how good he looks! omfg who let him do this ?! what about my mental health" she chuckled softly, but jay didn't seem to happy.

her ult bias was definitely a bit buff, he had abs that weren't even that seen but were enough to expand your imagination to the fullest extent. he was jealous. it seemed like his girlfriend never reacted like that when it came to him.

"I guess he looks great. yeah baby."

"I need to post this on my story he looks so..!" she smiled brightly, but all jay could think about was how did he look? he looked so... what? why can't she just finish her sentence? "yeah... you go ahead darling." he scoffed, but she didn't notice.

jay would never admit it, but he wanted all of his girlfriends attention on him.

"he's so hot!-"

"hmp!" jay suddenly kissed his girlfriend on the lips, shutting her up. he held her face and cupped it, bringing her close. she was stunned at his straightforward actions.

“do you like him more than me, baby?" he asked her lowly, she then shook her head, "no.. of course not, jay…”

"your thirsting over some other man who isn't your boyfriend.. shouldn't you be giving me some attention pretty girl?" he frowned in a sad and teasing manner.

"does your idol give you kisses? does your idol play with your hair? does your idol hug you with all of the affection in the world?" he asked her, "no jay.! it's just that-"

"I was joking baby," (no he wasn't.) "but your my girl so give ME attention."

"sorry jay." the girl looked down kind of guilty, until she got swept off her feet by her boyfriend and she screamed a bit. "yah! jay! put me down!"

"your mine, don't look at other men. got it pretty girl?"

@jwnstars...

ok this was so fun to make because it was my first rq l love it actually!!! 🤧🤧 thank u to my baby dia hshshshshshhshs I hope this isn't too bad😋😋

[valyrra]

My experience with Tanks / Marvel Rivals:'

p.s. okay, hey, look. I swear, if you main a character, somehow you relate to them on some subconscious level. I didn't create the rules, this is just how life works.

Doctor Strange mains are usually the sweetest beings I've ever encountered, praising heals, making sure you are safe behind their shields. Though can be bossy. Mother hens of the team. Somehow just like Strange, Strange main will do their absolute best in the game, like the fate of the universe depends on it. I love you so much, even if you are dogshit, you are making this game playable. I'd die for you, but you won't let me.

Magneto are their evil version, won't talk to you the whole game, think they are invincible, but usually aren't toxic, just entitled, I guess? Usually they won't protect you the way Strange would.. Have at thee shield, idc, let me solo ult this Shark.

I don't know if I will ever encounter a Hulk main that is older than 15 years old. Can be toxic, just like hulk.

Captain America mains... do they exist? Usually the ones that play them are pretty chill, didn't encounter any toxicity. You know that your ulti is shit, so you take things into your own hands. They are either going 30/3/2, carrying your whole ass team, making your DPS look stupid, while being typical Captain America. It was just his job. Eagles are flying, somehow sunglasses fell on his face. Or he isn't aware of why he picked Cap, gets scared of too many buttons, cries and switches to Wolverine.

Venom. Out of all tanks, Venoms are usually the most talkative. Can talk shit, will talk shit. They are playing Venom usually because lol, ig our team needed a tank. *Annoyed sigh*. But the ones that really MAIN them, are usually so good you are starting to hear Eminem music. Sometimes your team starts to legit shake in fear, knowing nothing will kill that son of a bitch, like he has this little Dagger in his pocket that will heal him from 2 hp.

Thor. In my experience Thors are a combination of arrogant, defensive and agressive. I like having them on my team, usually they are an absolute menace. Thor will turn around to beat the absolute living shit out of that annoying Iron Fist bothering his healer ladies. Usually pretty bossy too, thinks that they are doing the most in the team. I had a few thor mains that literally wrote 'beware of god of thunder by the end of the game.' Thor mains and Hulk mains are the same people in my head.

Peni Parker okay, bestie, you know you are the best tank in the game, and you know you are good with your kit. Baddie! But I wouldn't say that you are entitled or arrogant. Usually Peni mains are pretty chill while doing their absolute best at the game. I don't think I've ever seen a Peni main spam "need healing".

Groots are a menace to societies, they need to be isolated. But like... Fr, they are usually very good at their kit. How does it feel to leave fortnite, darling? Ok, I'm done kidding. Groots wont protect you. Their mission is to make enemy Strange forget about tanking for the next week. What? You don't like to be cornered and made fun of because your heals literally can't reach you? Does it feel like I have a personal beef with Groots? But alright... Groots usually are very agressive at the gameplay and can talk shit in the chat.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

tank moment - mauga

summary; title slightly irrelevant, i wanted to be funny. iykyk

genre/extra tags; headcanons/bullet fic, i talk about mauga hcs i thought of on the fly, reader is implied to be a support character, reader is also part of talon group, fluff, i only know the bare minimum about him and that's all i need baby, is this platonic or romantic idk

[gender neutral reader] [canon typical violence mentioned]

a/n; im back on my overwatch era. it never really ended but, i want to write about him, mauga, the beloved. typing this on my phone and finishing on my computer if anything seems wonky shhh dont tell me i'll relive that mistake for days

also this is a somewhat lightly reseached- aka not fully accurate/detailed work. i briefly mention samoan culture and if it offends or if it's a mistake, please tell me and i will erase those parts asap.

[support me and buy a kofi]

🗣 ALRIGHT SO ‼️

i've been watching and playing with/against mauga since the trial to play him came out and god i love him

but he's kind of easy to counter (im an ana main, nade is fucking broken but that's just anti heal things) and his ult is annoying

anyways

every tank needs their heal bot to keep em up

you just happen to be mauga's heal bot KDJSJSJ

(baptiste is too probably but not really)

he's a really smug guy

no one really knows that bc he sounds so upbeat and nice

but he loves to tease you, poke at you bc he knows that you will answer to him most of the time and entertain him in conversation

you and him are probably in your world even when you're both in talon tbh

he does his own thing and you just happen to join in

(he totally baits you to join his plans and you both know it)

he's a chaotic and cunning man and you're his enabler

(sounds like me and my bestie tbh)

"a hero would sacrifice you to save the world but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you" type beat

he's lowkey possessive but we dont talk about that

jk we do talk abt it

he's your scary guard dog privileges

like that man is tall tall ‼️‼️

idk why but i dont really imagine him being like an openly sweet person

he keeps it private even with how loud he is

anyways

you know how he's on a yacht for his origin story and there's like a bunch of people who got destroyed by him?

yeah he would totally do that shit for u if you asked.

he would give you the best home but

"thanks for the new place and all but did you have to kill someone for it?"

"i mean come on! this place is nice! let's enjoy it!"

he's very "i'll do the dirty work, just sit back and look pretty." and then you're like, "yeah i could. but i won't."

dps support vibes for you ✨️

but also he's charging in most of the time so, there's not much time to dps support KDHDJDJJD

he's like the kool aid man bursting in through the walls /j

cough

back to the hcs here...

he's so tall and big, he would totally let you hang off his back like nunu and wilump (from league, yeah i play league dont remind me totally gonna write for heartsteel soon tm)

also he's literally the greatest heated blanket (ahead of roadhog)

he's so stronk and wowowowow im so gay i love him

when you're surrounded by some enemies, he's charging in, slamming the ground and carrying you with ease as he keeps you safe while destroying any enemies who even tried to touch you

ugh

despite his lack of pda, he's a very actions over words.

he's so silly

chivalry isn't dead when he breaks into a jewelry store for u 😍😍

if you ever have those crazy thoughts about crime, he's totally gonna enable you and let you reign havoc on god knows what.

love language is actions and gift giving. enough said.

when he gives you a hug, he's so fucking warm omg

i said it before and i'll say it again, he's the best heated blanket, literal furnace

bad for the people who sweat easily though (ahem me lowkey)

one the off-days where it's just a day off and relaxing, he's taking care of you well !!

when you're on talon missions, since he can't run around as easily unless he gets the okay but you do keep him company until then

he likes to protect but he loves destroying people

he knows you're able to care for yourself, so he can go crazy whenever, and he loves that.

he also loves watching you get mad or angrily passionate

"yes go, la'u ma’asoama!" (my rock/stone, get it? bc his name means mountain)

he is a really good hype man. even if you're the one in the wrong.

god I WISH I LOOKED UP MORE ABOUT HIM ARGBHYKFJ

soon (tm)

someday i'll write more.

[blimgus]

Okay since i don't have any funny arts ready yet i would want to rant a little about whb.

First of all, I kinda found out that there is a visible pattern connecting the affiliation to the diffrent parts of Hell of the demons and their types of roles in the battle:

Gehenna- we have typical long range marksmen with Astaroth, Leraye, Paimon and Belial using rifles and Satan and Ppyong using some sort of bazookas(?) The only exception from this rule is Sitri with his Iron Maiden, but that is explained by him being away studying in Hades (correct me if im wrong)

Hades - we have our beloved coffin summoners here as medium range marksmen. Leviathan,Barbietoes, Glasya, Foras and Orias are all coffin users and summoning beasts seeems to be unique to the demons of Hades( God I have to read the orias event bc i forgor to)

Tartaros - Classic defense characters aka tanks. Lower power more health,shielding,becoming invincible for a while, some characters have stalling if i remember??? Every characters design here mostly follows these rules, even though the have diffrent weapons yknow Bimet has the skulls, Valefor a sword and shield, Mammon has the pillars and hands, and eligos has uhmmmmmm

His cuteness. Ok next

Avisos- well here it starts to get interesting. I belive that the demons here are close-ranged attackers? Amon, Nabe and Stolas have their little weapon arsenals and Bael and Bell have their whips However some characters have a really big range for close range attackers ( bloodshed bell) so im not entirely sure about that

Abaddon- Phenix, Dantalian and Ronovè are all close range attackers, but their main role in game is supporting/buffing other characters (ronove/phenix combo carried me through most of main story). I guess we can assume that Asmodeus (bro i cant wait for him in game im gonna become his biggest simp) will have a simmilar role as a buffer/support.What if prettybusy makes him like the equivalence of Bennett from Genshin??

Nilfheim- the most problematic when it came to assigning the certain role until i looked up the characters. Both Gusion and Andrealphus can stun the enemies with their attacks, while Bathin can decrease the speed of enemies.That makes the Nilfheim crew being debuffers,stunners (if I remember mammon can also stun the enemies with his ult?? But he seems to be the only non-nilfheim character to do that)

Paradise Lost- healers my beloved... Buer, Morax and Marbas are all healers so Lucifer will most likely be one too. Gamigin also can revive a character, which is absolutely great when you try to keep your lower levelled characters alive. Really solid characters, i love using them in battle.

I really like that PB made each role in battle unique to residents of specific countries of Hell

Welp thats all for now, next time im making a little rant about the whole hell and the New event

Bye for now!

-cinnamon

[gimmethatagustd]

i'll knock your punkass down | kth + jjk

Jungkook doesn't appreciate Taehyung's Men in Black costume, and that's very rude of him.

Relationship: Taehyung x Jungkook

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Halloween, Taehyung is dressed as Men in Black, Jungkook is dressed as... cishet slander, Weird Taehyung, Jungkook Is Whipped, Attempt at Humor (really bad attempt), Sexual Roleplay, Taehyung makes Jungkook call him sir as a joke, Dom/sub Undertones, a very unserious blowjob, Established Relationship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Crack

Word Count: 1,306

A/N: Please have this dumb Halloween 2023 drabble I wrote for my ult moot Lati (who was such a great sport accepting this ridiculousness).

“See that?” 

“Taehyung, I don’t feel like doing this right now.” 

“See. That?” 

Jungkook heaves a loud sigh and leans away, the back of his head gently knocking against the bedroom door. He tilts his chin slightly to look directly into Taehyung’s eyes. Since Jungkook isn’t wearing his signature chunky boots, Taehyung is taller than him. 

Typically, Jungkook knows he looks at Taehyung like he put the stars in the skies (and in Jungkook’s eyes), but today…

“Fine,” Jungkook concedes with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, hyung, I see it.” 

Taehyung’s eyes aren’t visible through the dark, alien-esque sunglasses he’s wearing, but Jungkook is sure he’s squinting in a way that Taehyung probably thinks is menacing. 

Taehyung holds up a small silver object connected to a thin chain around his neck. 

“NYPD!” Taehyung shakes the police badge in Jungkook’s face. Jungkook releases another heavy sigh. “Means I’ll Knock Your Punkass Down!” 

“Knock is spelled with a ‘K’ in English, babe.” 

“Jungkook-ah, you’re ruining the moment.” 

“I’m ruining the moment?! You already killed my boner! I’m not gonna do this weird fucking Men in Black roleplay with you!” 

Taehyung rips off his glasses and lets out that little whiny sound he makes when he isn’t getting what he wants. Normally, Jungkook finds it cute. Today, his boyfriend isn’t cute in the slightest. 

(Okay, maybe a little bit. He does look nice in his fitted suit and fluffy bangs. A little.) 

“Why do you hate fun?” 

Pushing Taehyung’s chest, Jungkook forces him out of his way. “This is not fun.” 

Taehyung scrambles after Jungkook as he walks over to their dresser to look for a fresh change of pajamas. Namjoon’s Halloween party lasted longer than Jungkook expected, and he has work in the morning. He’d love to get out of the ugly New Balances, khakis, and blue and white checkered button-up he’s wearing. 

(Dressing Jungkook up as a Straight Person was Taehyung’s idea, and Jungkook hates to admit that it was a great fucking idea. Straight People are very spooky, right?) 

“But I imitate Will Smith so well.” 

Jungkook twists around to stare at Taehyung, a pair of boxers and a white tank top clutched in his hands. “If you don’t cut this shit out, I’m gonna go Jada fucking Pinkett Smith on your ass and act like I don’t know who the fuck you are.” 

Taehyung gasps, clasping a hand against his chest. “And to think I was going to suck you off before we went to bed. You asshole.” 

Jungkook swallows and tries to keep his voice steady as he asks, “You what?” 

“Nope,” Taehyung tuts with a waggle of his finger. “You rejected me.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did!” 

“Babe,” Jungkook tosses his clothes back into the drawer and grabs Taehyung by his skinny black tie. “All I said was that I wasn’t having fun. But, the other thing, sounds fun…” 

Taehyung snorts. “I shouldn’t have let you wear that outfit. You’re acting like such a horny dudebro right now.” 

“Me?! You started this!” 

Narrowing his eyes, Taehyung slowly puts the weird sunglasses back on and pries Jungkook’s fingers from his tie. 

“Fine, I’ll give you what you want. But only because I like the fantasy that you’re some pathetic straight man trapped in a loveless marriage, and I’m your sexy CEO boss who gets to turn you out.” 

Jungkook watches with a raised eyebrow as Taehyung slowly sinks to the floor. Seeing Taehyung on his knees in a full suit does something to him. “So now you’re a CEO? Not an alien hunter?”

With a razor-sharp grin that makes Jungkook’s stomach flip, Taehyung reaches up to swiftly undo Jungkook’s pants. 

“Perhaps I’m the CEO of an alien-hunting corporation,” Taehyung suggests as he pulls Jungkook’s pants and briefs down until they pool at his ankles. Jungkook doesn’t even bother stepping out of them. 

“Sure, babe,” Jungkook sighs when Taehyung’s pretty fingers wrap around the base of his soft cock.

He wasn’t lying before; Taehyung’s annoying behavior had killed his boner. However, the nice thing about being in love is that deep down, Jungkook thinks everything Taehyung does is cute. Even when he’s being annoying as fuck. 

“Say it with more conviction,” Taehyung commands before angling his head to lick a stripe up Jungkook’s cock. 

Reaching backward, Jungkook grabs onto the dresser to steady himself as Taehyung softly sucks the head of his cock. He knows Taehyung won’t give him what he wants unless he follows the rules of the game. 

“You are the CEO,” Jungkook grits out, “Of an alien, fuck,” Taehyung swirls his tongue around the tip, poking at Jungkook’s slit to lap up the precum that collects there, “Hunting c-corporation.” 

“Very good. Now, I want you to call me ‘sir’ since this is a professional relationship first and foremost. I don’t care if you’re cheating on your wife with me; I’m still your superior.” 

Reaching down to brush Taehyung’s bangs away from his face, Jungkook lightly tugs the fluffy strands. “Please shut up.” 

Somehow Taehyung manages to spit on Jungkook’s cock indignantly, with furrowed eyebrows and a deep frown. He runs his hand up the shaft while scowling at him. 

“Is that the proper way to speak to your boss, Jungkook-ssi?” 

With the tip of his tongue, Taehyung leans forward and flicks at the underside of the head, rubbing his tongue flat against it whenever Jungkook twitches. 

“I hate you,” Jungkook whispers, the softness of his voice turning into a whimper. 

“You love me.” 

“Yes, and also, I hate you. Sir.”

Humming in amusement, Taehyung sinks further down until his nose presses against Jungkook’s abdomen. Jungkook can feel him regulating his breathing and his throat contracting and relaxing as he swallows. It’s enough to make Jungkook weak in the knees, and he tightens his grip on the dresser. 

“Fuck, Tae,” Jungkook moans as Taehyung begins to bob his head. “Just like that, just, ahh shit, I’m not gonna–” 

“Oh!” Taehyung unexpectedly releases Jungkook’s cock. A thin string of spit connects his mouth with the tip, and he breaks it by swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “Maybe you’re an alien in disguise.” 

Jungkook throws his head back with a groan. “Taehyung, please.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Taehyung giggles before he takes Jungkook’s cock into his mouth once again.

It doesn’t take much effort to finish Jungkook off. Taehyung has always been Jungkook's weakness. No matter how goofy he looks with the stupid alien glasses or how weird his idea of fun is, Jungkook can’t help but feel warm all over whenever he looks at Taehyung. Happiness radiates from him, an innocent soul– even in situations like this when Taehyung looks anything but innocent with Jungkook’s cock down his throat. 

“Tae,” Jungkook moans, a warning that he knows Taehyung will understand. As he feels the burning pressure build up inside him, he lets go of Taehyung’s hair and takes off the glasses, tossing them to the side. “Wanna see your pretty eyes.”

They watch each other as he cums, Jungkook cradling the side of Taehyung’s face and Taehyung squeezing Jungkook’s thighs. 

Taehyung pulls away with a gasp. “You handled that really well for an alien disguised as a Straight Man,” Taehyung chokes out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Hyung, oh my god.” Jungkook tries to move, but he feels like the bones in his legs have turned to liquid, and his ankles are still wrapped up in his pants. “Stop it right now.” 

Licking his lips, Taehyung gives Jungkook a wicked grin. “Or else what?”

Jungkook covers his face with his hands as he mumbles, “Or else I’ll knock your punkass down.” 

Only Taehyung can giggle so sweetly while on his knees in a fitted suit after sucking his boyfriend off. God, Jungkook really loves him, weird and all. 

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap @remmykinsff

@likecrazy22 @jaemayy @annyeongbitch7

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 45 – FAKE RELATIONSHIP

Take Another Little Piece of My Heart Now, Baby by blue_jack

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 27,305 Tags: Non-Superhero AU, Pining, Oblivious Tony

Summary: “I think we should get married,” Tony announced as he let himself into Steve’s apartment, plopping next to him on the couch.

Reasons why I love it: The dialogue in this is so fricking funny, it cracks me up every time. And poor Steve getting dragged into this while trying to protect his heart is as sweet as it is painful. I love this fic so much, and I bet you will too, so I hope you give it a shot for yourself!

the reason you ruminate the shadowy past by Mizzy

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 20,846 Tags: Internalized Homophobia, Fluff, Crack

Summary: So, Captain America effectively manages to cockblock Tony for a year. It's not Steve's fault. Well, actually, it is. But he was just proving a point - that if a superhero is gay, how can it be wrong? Steve just picked the wrong superhero to make the point with. Now America will think they're dating - and Tony's not going to be the guy to break Captain America's heart. There's only one way out. To save face, Steve and Tony have to become fake boyfriends. Steve thinks the "boyfriends" bit will be the hardest to act... but maybe it's the "fake" part that will be the hardest act of all...

Reasons why I love it: I really love the scene where Steve finds out that in this century, it's okay to be gay. That he almost immediately goes and does something drastic to try and get people to be more accepting feels very on brand for him. I love the way Mizzy writes the two of them in general, they feel so real. Definitely read this fic if you haven't already, because it's one of the best!

To Liars and Saving the World by magicasen

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 45,721 Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Mutual Pining, Smut

Summary: When Tony's life is in danger, Steve does the only thing he can do to save his teammate: he makes an honest man out of him. Steve and Tony's sham marriage is only supposed to be a blip in their history that no one has to know about. But when they're outed to the press, and with ghosts from his past coming to haunt him, Steve must come to terms with the idea that his own feelings for Tony might not be a lie.

Reasons why I love it: The story of Red Skull in Ults canon is one of my favorite awful things, so I'm really happy with the turn this fic takes. The fake marriage plot is deliciously angsty, and the smut is incredible. I love this fic so much, and I highly recommend that you enjoy it for yourself!

[realtidepod]

i want to hear about the dirkjohn mpreg. how long does dirk wait before telling john. whats their relationship like before and after the mpreg. what dumbfuck name do they give their baby

HEEEELLLOOOOO ANON!!!! i am oh so happy about your inquiry. inquirIES even. (hella long post incoming)

this is such a fun and also unreasonably hard collection of questions to answer because we have like……. so so so many different dirkjohns we play around with like little barbie dolls in our spare time that its difficult to pick just ONE set of them to talk abt. ESPECIALLY when it comes to mpreg cause its literally like we have a dirkjohn that has this kid, a dirkjohn that has THIS kid, and a dirkjohn that has that kid!

id love to talk about All of them in This Post but 1 oh my god that would take forever and 2 i would definitely remember something wrong and that would haunt me FOR….. EVER…. so i think just for easiness sake (and my own) i will just go with dear sweet little casey for now because i know we have DEFINITELY given her the most love and attention compared to the others . unintentionally i swear. we just love her a lot <3

i guess with all that being said im accidentally going backwards in answering these LMAO the dumbfuck name they give their baby is actually somehow not THAT dumbfuck of name to give a baby at all as it turns out! maybe thats just because we dont really love giving dirkjohn kids these Really Out There names to be honest. we see that as more of a jakedavekat thing than a dirkjohn thing. dirkjohn are Serious about this baby thing. and believe me. that baby. Is a Thing.

as for their relationship BEFORE the mpreg… well…… theyer in looooovvveeee. la dee dee la dee da they are just . so happy. so happy and so in love. a typical day for them is literally wake up, cuddle, kiss, eventually get up and john makes them coffee and then breakfast. they eat and john reads the fuckin NEWSPAPER of all things after while dirk does the dishes <3 and THEN they watch tv.they watch tv for a whiiiiile until either Fuck Nothing is on or they remember heeeey. they have errands or chores to do. errands is an always john thing or an always do together thing, but never JUST a dirk thing. he does not like going to places by himself and john Obviously isnt going to make him. chores however are anyones game, but they do have a system of who does what like each week or each day because thats GROSS and theyre in LOVE. have i said that theyre in love yet btw i think i have!!!!!!!!!!!!!

after that its the evening time Free For All where they could get into Anything before its time for dinner. on MOST days this time is just hobby time for both of them really. dirk works on some little something in the garage, john looks up more recipes to try, they fuck, then they have dinner! it’s great! after they get ready for bed they either watch a little more tv before hitting the hay, or john reads a book with dirk cuddled up next to him for a little. thats very important. very important, and very mundane. in a good way of course.

john really thrives off of mundane i think, and dirk does too, albeit in his own slightly different dirk way. routine is good for them, and it can be pretty tough when that routine is poof. down the shitter and well . its really needless to say that said their routine goes a Biiiiit fucking haywire when they find out the reason dirks been throwing up and just generally Feeling like Shit is because he is somehow Pregnant.

-

ok hi its Pod on the mic (the other one) to answer the last question because Tide is honk shooooo ok ANYWAY. thank you for the ask anon <3. to answer the last question!! the After mpreg. it’s worth noting that this is the work of ult dirk, so, do what you will with that information. that’s a whole other can of worms that is worthy of its own post (or like 100k+ word fic that will probably be perpetually in the works, but you didn’t hear that from me)

during The Mpreg dirk’s pretty stressed and confused because why is this happening. he has a whole dick and balls. but as they say. things will Always Keep Happening. john kinda stops questioning the how after a while and tries to have a more positive outlook on it, which soothes dirks mind a little but goddamn it is a Rough pregnancy for him. he goes through it and john is supporting him 110%, and even makes sure to keep it on the downlow among their friends since dirk Really doesn’t want anyone to see him while he’s sick almost every other day.

once their little Thing is born they go with the excuse of ectobiology, and let me tell you it was Very difficult to hide for the last few months.

as mentioned dirk was really anxious, specifically about being a parent in general, but luckily for him john was and is more than supportive about assuring him he is and that just because some version of him wasn’t a good one doesn’t mean he, himself, in this current time, doesn’t have any potential to be. it eased dirks mind a little, but it didn’t really set in until he was holding her in his arms. kind of like an instant familial switch flipped on in his brain. to “lock in” (sorry never using this terminology again i’m too old for that)

they have a girl! her name is casey. yes, after the girl from con air. yes, after the salamander. it was difficult for them to come to an agreement on the name, especially with john’s connection to it, having lost casey the salamander due to health complications years prior. in a way it was john coming to terms with his grief, even if it’s a little selfish, but despite the sad memories it reminds him of what it was like when he was a caregiver alongside dirk. plus he just likes the name casey. at the bottom of this post we have a sprite and doodle of her <3

they are very happy with their little family of 3, still have no idea how it happened, but are very glad it happened

if you know what her shirt symbol is a reference to (hint hint loading screen of a 2004 video game) you are officially vip member of the blog realtidepod where you get absolutely nothing except SUPER COOL GUY status. thank you for the ask anon, sorry for the lengthy reply lmao, we love dirkjohn a lot <3

[adventure-avocado]

Pinned Post (RP information)

My main "canon" is filtered through my own interpretation of V3 (I do really like the 'it was all a sim' AU, so that is typically the timeline that I go with). V3 Ult. Survivor Rantaro's answers are in black text (specifically *during* the KG).

Part of my headcanon for that timeline is that game 52 Rantaro, as Ult. Adventurer, probably had a somewhat different personality (why keep your characters the same through two separate games, says Team Danganronpa). You'll just have to find out more about him through the blog. His replies are in green.

Post-game Rantaro (after he dies in the sim and wakes up in the real world) gets blue text.

For anything referencing characters or events outside of V3 main storyline (like Makoto or Hajime), I go with my Hope's Peak University AU (basically the same vibe as Ultimate Summer Camp, but aged up to college because I can be more weird that way). Anything from that AU will be in purple.

Apart from that, I'm really generally open for most things. I do have my personal favorite Rantaro ships (Amamatsu and Amaguji), but I'm also a notorious multishipper. NSFW asks are fine, but I do not interact with anything involving incest or pedo shit or anything like that. Insta block.

I also don't really have anything for THH/SDR2 main canon (despair timeline) so you'll probably just get crack responses.

Have fun, don't be a dick to me or anyone else, and enjoy pestering the bastard avocado man. ❤️🥑

[sburbian-mechanics]

hmm, might ask whil~ I’m h~r~

D. Y.u hav~ Any inf.rmati.n on h~ir .f v.id? I d.ubt it’ll h~lp m~ anym.r~ but I’m curi.us

An Heir of Void? I actually have a lot of experience with Void, and Heirs, so this should be a piece of cake!

I have mentioned earlier that Heirs have a bit of a repression problem, but that’s probably not the best way to put it. It’s more like…they don’t like thinking about things. They aren’t very critical. They can still be incredibly smart, and they definitely aren’t (all) naive, but they don’t tend to change or revaluate how they view the world. They go with the flow! Which can honestly be really refreshing. However, this can be problematic when combined with…

The Void aspect! This one is pretty confusing to most people. However, it’s really not that bad! Void is the aspect of the Assumed. It’s the things you don’t think about, or realize, at least until they’re gone. It’s also about how you don’t notice that something is gone until it’s there! So it’s both the average, and the impossible. What’s Under The Hood, either magic or mundane. This also intersects with quantum physics, what prevents knowledge, (by assuming rather than dissecting,) and the blank slate of possibility. Pretty cool! But you can start to see the problems.

An Heir of Void is either someone who you never think about because their presence is just assumed- thus allowing them to do All the Things under your nose, or you only realize their importance when they’re gone. Or it’s someone who does not dissect or realize the true extent of the ideas they hold. Basically all of those harmful societal assumptions are not going to be challenged on their own- which can lead to them becoming worse and worse. Sort of.

Like I mentioned earlier, there are lots of different ways to be a class. It’s important to remember that Classpect is just Archetypes! A Heir of Void is just a Nexus of the Assumed, and there are a lot more ways that can happen! Maybe they have the key to figure out the secrets of reality, but they don’t know that. Perhaps the weird and unexplainable surrounds them, but they just think that stuff is normal? This seems like the Classpect to have a lot going on, but no one realizes that, not even them.

But what about the Mechanics??? What kind of Quests may they have??? Well, don’t you worry my friend. Heirs have a Druid playstyle, which means that the majority of their quests are going to be about finding their aspect in the natural world. The goal of the Heir is to then take control of it, and allow it to flow outwards in massive elemental power. On the more practical side of things, Heirs might happen apon consorts in trouble and just naturally save them, or find the secrets thing they need only when they stop focusing on it so hard. Typical brotherly plucky protagonist-type things, which is sort of the best person a Heir can be. But they are not to be underestimated! While not Miracle Makers like Pages, or Wildcards like Bards, Heirs are perhaps the only class that can tap into the Pure Form of their Aspect. The inheriting nature of their class would obviously allow them to become invisible. You could drown your opponents in darkness, or maybe slip through the folds of reality? This can lead to major hacks- their passive nature allows to whole team to benefit from this. But what is the most Absolute way to disappear? To become unnoticed?

I actually didn’t know the answer to this question. Thankfully AJ is also really good at theorycraft! He didn’t want to go live on the blog right now- but he did let me record him! Ahem! “the ult ability of an heir. hmm. well its nature is to hide: cover up. i could see something similar to a blackout. not of vision: but the ability to be observed. any watchers of any type would not be able to observe: fourth dimensional or no: they would be entirely Off Screen. however this extends to those within the protection of the blackout as well. when it ends no one would even realize that anything happened: but their memory of “what happened” in between the bubble is gone. even the heir wouldn’t know. that is because the bubble would have induced a quantum state: without observation Nothing happened: and so could Anything. thus: whenever the formerly bubbled members got in a sticky situation they would find a new item in their bag or use a new skill. of course this isn’t new at all: they got it in the bubble. they would then remember how they got the changes they did: and the bubble would be slightly defined. this would go on until what happened in the bubble is fully defined. this could even extend to traveling a certain distance or defeating a powerful enemy: as long as it could happen it’s on the table. that would be the power of the Off-Screen.”

We then proceeded to argue about the name of this ability- cuz “Off-Screen” is too simple. I prefer to call it “A Little Mining Off Camera!”

Anyways, that should be about it on that front. I included a little extra info than normal- but that’s because I know a lot and I wanted to brag that I could teach you something new. If you want to know an ult ability, (why is AJ so bad at names-) feel free to ask! Or ask about the actual game mechanics. That is the name of the blog! I promise I can tell you things about the Nightmare Heir or the Shadows of Home! Just dare me to tell you all the bosses in the game!!! I’m not letting this knowledge go to waste!!!! GG out!

—————<|>—————

Honestly, I’m kinda suprised Aj agreed to be recorded… all though I’m also kinda not. That doofus loves to brag just as much as I do, he’s just better at hiding it.

[honeyhotteoks]

honeyhotteoks f.a.q;

hi all~ i’ve gotten a pretty big influx of new followers, and have been receiving a lot of asks and messages lately so in order to make things easier i’ve made a little faq about me, my writing, and all things honeyhotteoks. this will now be linked in my pinned post, and if i’ve left anything out feel free to send me an ask!

about me:

i’m chai, and this is my 18+ writing blog / kpop blog, primarily focused on ateez, but you will also find posts about: seventeen, stray kids, txt, kard, plave, bibi, xg, and plenty of other random gifs/posts/etc. i’m 31, she/her, bi, and from the northeast of the usa. feel free to find links to my other kpop socials in my pinned post, but please don’t be offended if i am slow to interact or follow. i’m an adult with a full time job and kpop and writing are hobbies i can’t always keep up with perfectly.

stan list / biases:

ateez are my ult of ults, and yunho is my ult bias. i’ll mostly post about him, so if that’s not your thing i completely understand. wooyoung is my other bias in ateez, but i’m regularly wrecked by all members. outside of ateez, i’m a casual stan of a few groups including: seventeen (bias s.coups), stray kids (bias hyunjin), txt (bias soobin), and kard (bias bm)

what do you write? who do you write for?

ateez mostly, but will occasionally write for seventeen and the game love and deepspace. my masterlist is organized by topic and member for easy navigation. i do primarily write fics where yunho features since he’s who i have the most brainrot about, but i have lots of other works for other members too.

do you take fic requests?

no.

why don’t you take fic requests?

i truly do not have the time and to be honest my brain doesn’t work like that. i appreciate that other writers can churn out fics or work based on requests, but i just cannot do it. i never write anything that i’m not 100% behind and wouldn’t want to read myself, and it’s hard for me to get excited about writing something when it’s a request. sometimes people have inspired me with great ideas, but that’s usually because we’re friends and swapping headcanons and that leads to an idea, and that to me is distinctly different from a formal request in my inbox.

do you respond to all messages?

no, i don’t. i wish i could, but i get flooded with messages every time i post and honestly every time yunho does something lol. i typically respond to moots / followers that i recognize as regular readers, my regular emoji anons, and any messages that make me smile or inspire me in some way. please don’t be offended if i miss your message or don’t get to it, if i responded to every single one it would take me ages and my adhd brain gets very overwhelmed. also sometimes i get messages that frankly make me uncomfortable, and instead of starting drama i choose to delete those.

what makes you uncomfortable / what won’t you respond to?

unsolicited criticism of my writing/fics (if rude, not helpful like adding a tag / cw etc.), requests for fics/drabbles, questions about when the next chapter of something is being posted, messages intended to push me into publishing the next chapter of something etc.

in general, i am also uncomfortable with asks from strangers that are uncomfortably sexual. i know i write smut, and i accept hard hours asks, but what i mean is a message that’s kind of crass and weird, kind of a you know it when you see it situation. i’ve gotten messages before that are along the lines of like…. ‘i need so and so to *detailed explicit sexual content* to me’ and while i’m not shaming you for feeling that way, i’m not your audience for that. specifically if you’re talking about what you want done to you/what you fantasize about in relation to yourself. i’m all for talking about how yunho’s hands are the perfect necklace, but i’m not cool with knowing how you (a stranger) need him to choke and rail you….. or if you tell me about your personal time. if you catch my drift. i know i write smut, i know what happens with that smut, but please respect my boundaries as a person and keep details about that to yourself.

how did you start writing?

i’ve been writing since i can remember, and went to school for literature and creative writing. fan fiction has been an outlet for me as a reader and writer for years, particularly because i love the romance genre and always have.

will you ever stop writing for ateez / posting about ateez?

probably someday, but i can’t see it happening for a long time since i’m still very into this fandom, them as a group, and getting fic inspiration all the time. that being said, relationships with fandoms and writing changes and who knows what i’ll be doing in five years.

will you ever delete this blog / your fic?

nope! if tumblr ever goes away and this blog disappears i can’t control that, but i’m confident in ao3 at minimum and all my major works are cross-posted there. if i ever choose to leave writing, i would orphan my works before i ever EVER deleted anything, that always makes me sad when writers do that.

i’m a writer / an aspiring writer, will you beta read my fic?

while i really appreciate that you thought of me, i do not beta read fics.

can i send you a fic i’ve written and published?

absolutely! but please understand that i may not read it right away, and if your fic isn’t my cup of tea (in writing, pairing, genre, tags, etc.), i won’t reblog it as a recommendation. i only ever reblog fics that i’ve read and really enjoyed, and sometimes people will ask me to share a fic for visibility as i have a decent number of followers. i don’t feel comfortable with that, and won’t do it. but if you just wanted to send me something and let the chips fall, please do! i’m always looking for new work but don’t always have the time to see new fics being published.

did you see xyz content? why aren’t you posting about xyz content?

i may or may not have seen something, so please feel free to share something with me if you think i’d like it…… but if you’re upset that i don’t post more about other members, other groups, etc., please understand i’m not an update account and really don’t have a lot of time for kpopping even though i wish i did.

why don’t you write more for xyz member? why don’t you write xyz pairing? why don’t you write xyz genre?

honestly…. writing is fun for me, and all the fics i write are for myself. they’re what i want to be reading, and so here i am. that means most of the time my yunho brainrot goes crazy and there we are. it’s not because i dislike a member / don’t care about a member etc., it’s because for every fic idea i have for that member i have about 50 for yunho and end up writing the thing that gets me inspired or excited. as far as pairings and genres go, i just go wherever the ideas lead me. there’s no hard rules, and it’s not really intentional. i’m just writing what i’m excited to write and then sharing it with everyone.

can i translate your work?

no, please do not translate my work or cross-post it anywhere.

i think someone’s plagiarizing your work, how do you want this handled?

please tell me right away and i’ll take it from there! i’ve been plagiarized many times, and that ranges from someone literally posting my work as their own on wattpad or just writing something wildly similar to my work and posting it as their own fic. i’m pretty practiced at handling this now, and will always let my followers know if i need any extra support, but please if you notice my fic out here let me know.

where do you post? what names do you post under so we know if something is stolen?

i only ever post works on this blog or on my ao3 account. i only ever post under the name honeyhotteoks. i NEVER post on wattpad (i dislike the platform) or any other fanfic site, so if you see something there it’s not me, please alert me.

for everything else, check my pinned post. i have a lot of links there to specific pages on my blog with more information, links to recommendations, etc. if you’re sending me messages and haven’t read my pinned and that’s clear, i probably won’t respond. tysm to all my long time readers and welcome to all the new ones! i’m excited to have you and to see all your lovely comments on my work, and hopefully this post helps clear up some common questions.

[lovelyrotter]

I read your thing about stridercest. I didn’t super like the ship (I’m more of a lalondecest girlie) but I respect the hell out of the textual analysis you did. Anyway do you have any good fic recommendations? I want to see what you see in it.

oh fuck yeah i love sharing ship stuff especially with ppl who dont usually go here and vice versa for me. its like hell yeah im digging in sand and its fun i love my sand and then i turn around and woah i had no idea there was even MORE sand just behind me ya dig? that might not have made any sense hahaha. its the joy of trading pokemon cards except with ships

but okay heres some of my current faves. bear in mind i read mostly M and E rated stuff but ive got a sprinklin of lower ratings in here too. im also gonna categorize this list by stridercest flavour. theres a lot so this turned out like ridiculously long

anyone else goin through this feel free to link yalls faves in the replies too cause im ravenous. especially if its haldirk. im constantly craving haldirk

guardiancest

doku line terminus & two steps away from the county line by lildogie these first cause theyre my ultra faves rn and i cant get enough of this au. set in the same universe but county line is the prequel. a/b/o verse with lotsa interesting political stuff and also interpersonal dynamics. dave & dirk are there too and are real cute. its also got mysterious time travelling. i really cant sell these two enough like i am not doin these justice

davedirk / dirkdave

if i woke up next to you by bumbly | G, ~2,700 words, complete. SUPER sweet relationship study, made me fuckin melt. this author has really good stuff for other ships too but mind the archive warnings

dont joke about hentai face broctopus transplants im eating cheese n onion pringles here by smrtnik | M, ~1k words, complete. this one made me fuckin melt its so tender. it truly feels like were peeking into their life together. also great title

Stasis State by Caeslin | T, ~3k words, complete. another really intimate feeling one. its so fuckin sweet. mind the tags for typical dirk suicide attempt but its not on screen its moreso the recovery and how dave is affected by it

“stupid fucking bullshit” ad nauseam by anon | T, 13.7k words, complete. REALLY GOOD AU. trans striders, fade to black sex scene. the boys are cute and you can feel how much theyre drawn to each other immediately. wish there was more of this

sometimes the bad guy wins by nutrimercenary | E, ~7.5k words, ongoing. wow. oh wow. ive been looking for a davedirk fic like this for a long time. PLEASE read the warnings and tags but its so fuckin good. a crossdimentional narrative tug-o-war between dave and ult dirk i fuckin love it

got it goin on by bumbly | E, 7.5k words, complete. dirk indulges daves mommy kink after prying it outta him. its cute and funny and sexy it made me smile. their dynamic is sooo sweet

helping hands by ghostlyAnarchist | E, 5.1k words, complete. THIS IS SO GOOD. its got trans man dave and is genuinely one of the hottest transmasc fics ive read so far and boy howdy ive read a lot. slight warning for dysphoria discussion but its not too bad its all just hot af a dick-sucking venn diagram by Elendraug | E, 10k words, complete. first off domestic af. very established relationship and you can tell. its so fuckin sweet. i looove this one. its like the best kind of silly realistic smut its one of my faves of all time

STILL WITH ME by egbert | E, 8k words, complete. dave and dirk strife and then fuck in the bathroom. holy shit this is hot. their want is like tangible in this one

brodave and a!brodirk

hardware by orphan_account | E, ~8k words, complete. dave gets some dick piercings and bro goes insane about them. hot as hell and also features bottom bro which is my fave. its got a couple uses of the r-slur but its also from 2011 so i take it w/ a grain of salt. 2011 and earlier fics are like internet artifacts (/pos)

but you better never pull it by hapaxlegomena | E, 5k words, complete. wow. WOW. sub top bro and dom bottom dave need i say more. this sub bro activates my cute aggression the power play is great mars & murrie's by orphan_account | E, 6.8k words, complete. a!brodirk, omorashi. super hot!!!! alpha dave is sooo embarrassed about his piss kink but dirk wins in the end hahaha. really intriguing which i know sounds funny on an omo fic but read it and youll know. i love this alpha dave

temporal sunset by Plajus | M, 19.5k over 5 chapters, complete. a!brodirk. holy shit what a ride. this one held me hostage and now lives in my brain rent free (bdum tiss sorry). dirk is terminally ill so i know it wont be for everyone but give it a try and goddamn you wont be disappointed. trust me

a swinging pendulum by ghostlyAnarchist | T, ~900 words, complete. a!brodirk time/dream bubble encounter. wow just wow. the want. the yearning immaterial by LPSunnyBunny | E, 1k words, complete. a!brodirk, trans dirk. holy shit!!!!!! holy shit!!!!! hot hot hot!!!!!!! shower sex sensation control!!!!

haldirk

singular by 2x2verse | E, 6.8k words, complete. hal has an existential crisis dirk catches him and then they fuck tenderly about it. genuinely so romantic. im addicted to this kind of haldirk. honestly i just recommend the entire series diagnostics by 2x2verse | E, 2.9k words, complete. i know i just linked this authors whole collection of haldirk fics but holy crap this one in particular. dom/sub electrostim with sensory deprivation, hal is the dom. i LOVE how hes written here. very attentive domming, great details

A Fatal Error Has Occurred by Mortior | E, 42k words, 4/5 chapters. oh mortior my haldirk regent. really fuckin good character writing in an au where hal has an android body before the alpha session is started. read the tags for warnings. the tension between them is insane endangered by Mortior | E, 100k+ words, complete multichapter. holy fuck where to begin with this one. this is a haldirk sensation. post apocalyptic au where androids won the human-robot war. dirk runs into AR. AR takes an interest in him. dirk takes even more of an interest in AR. if youre gonna read any haldirk read this one

"im basically fucking him" series by Elendraug | T & E, all complete. so!!!!! fucking!!!!! tender!!!!! really cute haldirk progressing through their relationship

ridiculously late by cinnamonfreak | E, 21k, completed multichapter. a/b/o au where dirk suddenly presents. REALLY intriguing hal in this one i fuckin love the power play

roboporn by smrtnik | E, 3.9k words, complete. really fun power play in this one. hal is waterproofed externally but not internally. he gives dirk a handie over his open chassis torso. theres also really sweet snuggling afterwards

[sabotsen]

🍀 no new frame since Frozen Darkness is 💀. Ik I should not feel frustrated over pixels BUT I AM. I NEED MORE MEN. It came to a point I started disregarding games where women dominate the roster because I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, sooo tired of seeing them already.

I wanted to buy Hell Sing coating but now that it finally came to Global and I see NO MALE CONTENT AT ALL for half a year already, I really don't want to spend money... like what am I, a dog being thrown a bone?

Tired of it, tired tired tired

HONESTLY. 😭

I love liv, Lucia and nanami a lot but man can we PLEASE PLEASE give frames to the older kids who don't even have a second frame??? (Camu, changyu, Sophia, and kamui [technically] HELLO????).

Like especially considering their lore/background I'm really surprised they haven't been upgraded and brought back into the spotlight.

Please kuro those are my KIDS please upgrade their frames let them out of the basement it's been 9376272947 YEARS 😭😭😭😭

Also 100% agree with you on that, nonny. I'm so tired of male gaze focused games that only have 99.8% female units and 0.2% male units. Like let me get some fanservice for my gaze too. I love a pretty woman just as much as the next person but the typical male-gaze-focused woman design is just.... doesn't do her justice half the time and I'M TIRED. 😭 please I'm so starved in this kitchen.

Tbh I think the only gacha i came across that was 1000x non-het-male focused was Shinen Resist (pic below cut bc nsfw) and it was SUCH A FUN GAME IM STILL SO SAD IT CLOSED DOWN 😭 i kept the offline version on my tablet but man i miss it so much even after all these years ....

The guys got "corrupted"/went berserk when they ult and it literally showed their bodies like above. And while there wasn't a huge variance in skin colors tbh, they had a fun array of body types and such (from really masc to more androgy). Shinen Resist you were a banger ahead of your time and you will always be with me 😔