#curious to know which order you all played the games in

[jadedjazzhues]

Finally finished Mother (the first one) for the first time the other night! ^^ Drew these precious kiddos to celebrate

[alphabetboyluvr]

the curious lifespan of migrating monarchs - jjk

THE CURIOUS LIFESPAN OF MIGRATING MONARCHS (& other aurelian affairs)

pairing: streamer!jk x international student!female oc (s2l)

warnings: strangers to lovers, clubbing, foul language, alcohol, vaping lol, jungkook is kinda famous, the oc is oblivious, the oc is also a foreign student who has very recently arrived in Korea!! (pls note - while i've been in korean uni dorms, i've never been in yonsei dorms specifically so don't shout at me if it isn't supeeeerr accurate), jaykay is speaking in eng for like 90% of this!!, i've also never watched a gaming streamer and had to do so for research lmao so there's a lot of guesswork going awwwn <3, the oc has tattoos, they bond over this, cute nicknames (tokki and nabi <3), one bed trope?? kinda, jaykay lives w/ yoongi and tae (they are streamers too (and dj?? (tae is a bit unhinged))), jungkook wears calvins!, a singular appearance of yoongi in his boxers!!, tipsy hookup, fingering, protected sex (woo!), desk sex, oral (m receiving), girliepop swallows <3, brief mentions of jungkook's starry eyes, lots of kisses, bunny ears, (1) mention of cross-fit

wordcount: 13011

note from holly: this was a commission done for the lovely Michelle over on my kofi page!! i don't open commissions often, but when I do I'm very lucky that the requests are so much fun. this actually ended up being way longer than it was supposed to be lol and is also available on wattpad!! also fun facts for you - I imagine the boys apartment (and jks room!) to be same as jk + jimins place in BD, just a little bigger lmao

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

CLUB SUNDOWN WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 02:24

Time ceases to exist after the sun goes down in Seoul. It could be two, or it could be five. The only thing that really clues you in on the actual time is the DJ schedule that lights up behind the decks: 02:00-03:00, Blu-Tae.

It's some guy you've never heard of. Looks no older than you. Probably a student, just like the rest of the crowd.

His hair is as blue as his namesake, which does make you smile, and his choices aren't bad either (even if somewhat questionable). You've never heard a jazz remix of Darude's Sandstorm before, and you doubt you ever will again.

Club Sundown is just as rogue as the rest of the city after the sun goes down. Hidden in the basement—like all the best places in Seoul are—the small room is packed to the absolute brim.

Who cares for views and sunsets offered by rooftop bars when you could lose yourself in the debauchery of an eternal midnight, instead?

Drinks are spilt on strangers, and dances have lost the grandeur of old-fashioned waltzes. It's not like you could dance properly, even if you wanted to. There's just simply no space.

Like Alice, you're down the rabbit hole—and oh, how you prefer it to being in the real world. In the shadows, you can be anyone you like.

If you were sober, you'd know this is also the case for daily life. You're in a new country with no ties to your former self. Who you are is who you choose to be.

But the shadows aren't all that dark. The red lights of the club bleed into the cracks, painting everyone in the same subtle hue of danger.

They shine a little light on the identifiers of you; the thin black lines of your patchwork tattoos. Trailing up your arm, they're memories of your past selves, and an indicator of who you hope to become.

"Down this," you say to your dormmate, Rae, handing back over the drink you've just ordered from the bar. "Cloakroom, then dance."

Still carrying your winter coats, you'd wanted to check the place out before committing to it. Entry is free, but the cloakroom is the same price as a drink. It would only be worth putting your coats away if you knew you wanted to stay—and given the fact the DJ was playing O-Zone's Dragostea Din Tei as you entered, you know it's a no-brainer. While his stage name might make you roll your eyes a little, Blu-Tae certainly does cater to your tastes. When you're drunk, and music vibrates through you, it's empyrean. No place you'd rather be.

"Oh, Jesus," Rae gags as she sips the drink you've just handed her. Despite her disgust, she's laughing. Head to toe in black, dark hair loose around her shoulders, she's been your ride-or-die since you arrived in Seoul. Both international students in the same dorm, there's no one you'd rather get up to no good with. "Vodka?!"

You beam at her like you're from the heavens above, wrongfully relegated to the depths of sin. Pretend like you love vodka. It's totally not like you panicked when you saw the menu was all in Korean.

Vodka-coke is a universally understood delicacy—the easiest thing for you to order without making a tit of yourself or butchering the pronunciation. When the bartender ignored your botched attempt at ordering in Korean and answered in fluent English, you'd wanted to melt into the floor. So embarrassing.

You're here, like most foreign students, for a language course. Semester is yet to start, and as much as you've studied and practised hard, it's always different when putting it into practice.

"I'm sorry," you laugh. "It's fine—you can order next time!"

But Rae has the exact same predicament as you. If anything, your language skills are better than hers, so you really have no hope. It's vodka-cokes for the evening, or maybe highballs. Once your tipsy brain manages to compute hangul cocktail names, you'll be golden, but that won't be for another few weeks, yet.

You'll look back at this time of your life fondly, realising how simple it all was, even if it feels incredibly overwhelming right now.

Funnily enough, hope is exactly what you have: for the semester ahead, for this new life you're forging, for the opportunities that may come your way.

In fact, by the time you're on your third vodka coke, you've managed to convince yourself you actually like it. You also can't taste it, thanks to the bartender freepouring a 60-40 ratio of vodka to coke in the first drink. Your tastebuds were wiped out pretty much instantly.

Coats in the cloakroom, you're glad to be wearing thin layers. The room is stuffy; your skin sweaty. While meeting new friends had been the goal, you keep to yourself. Dance like nobody is watching. Hold Rae's hands to stay close and ward off weirdos. Quickly realise that clubs back home are slightly different. Pay it no mind. Ignore the intrusions of hands on waists, because men, disappointingly, are no different.

Or at least most of them aren't.

But most of them don't look like the man in the corner booth, laughing with his friends.

Though he is tall, he's eclipsed by his demeanour. Shoulders broad, he's in a dark T-shirt and pair of jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants such a perplexed stare from you - but he's familiar. You can't place him, but he's got the kind of face you swear you've seen before.

Rae doesn't notice the change in your poise, nor how you're desperately trying to work out where you know him from. Perhaps you've seen him around your university? It's only been a couple of weeks, but people are steadily moving in. Maybe he works at the convenience store you constantly find yourself in? Or mans the front desk of the noraebang you and Rae visit pretty much every other evening?

Impossible, you think. If you'd seen him before, you wouldn't have forgotten him, or the way he constantly toys with his lip rings. Plural. There are signs up around the place stating bar rules. NO SMOKING is rule number three. You've seen his friends pass him over a vape a handful of times. Anyone else, and you'd think it was cringe. Embarrassing.

But in the midst of his laughter settling, and a fresh toke being inhaled, his eyes flicker towards yours.

Perhaps it's just because you're drunk, but you don't avert your gaze. Show no shame. The smile on his lips sinks into a smirk as he exhales. An acknowledgement. A 'hello, trouble'.

Again, any other man, you'd find the vape smoke repugnant. Nasty. Now? Watching the way he flicks his tongue against his lip rings?

You wanna know how it tastes.

Black ink weaves an intricate outline of who he is up his arms. Where he's been. Who he's been. A map, if you will, of his soul.

Much like your own tattoos, he's got thick black lines, and little else. Simple, you assume. A man of convenience. Efficiency.

You wonder if he does everything in life with the precision to match his tattoos, and as your lips wrap around the straw of your vodka-coke, you decide you'd quite like to find out.

Interrupted by Rae pulling you deeper into the crowd, your night is spent in and out of shadows. Attempt subtlety. Try not to make your occasional glances to the corner booth noticeable, just checking if his eyes are still on you. More often than not, they aren't—but sometimes they are, and that's enough to fuel your little flirt.

It's not until the sign behind the DJ booth changes from 03:00-04:00, GLOSS into some other guy that you notice your staring contest opponent has slipped into the shadows himself. The booth is void of both him and his friends. Gone.

"GLOSS has a set at another club," Rae all but yells in your ear, and even then, you barely hear her. "All the hotties left when he did. Let's go."

"Where to?!" You laugh, empty cup in hand. Admittedly, the new guy who's stepped into the DJ booth is just not doing it for you. Blu-Tae was just the right amount of unhinged with classics, whereas GLOSS was definitely cooler, but still fun. Had the club yelling curse words over trap remixes just for the fun of it. This new guy, whose name you don't care to remember, takes himself too seriously, you think.

"It's, like, two blocks down," she yells back, tugging on your wrist to drag you to the stairwell that leads you back up to the streets of Seoul. The hustle and bustle of people trying to go in different directions in the tight place forces you apart, but you figure you'll catch up with her, or that she'll be waiting at the top.

You don't know the roads well enough yet to make it to whichever club it's at alone, and quickly realise when you nearly tumble into the side of a waiting taxi that you're far drunker than expected. Knew the bartender was freepouring, but didn't realise just how free those pours really were.

"Woah, easy trouble," a deep voice sounds from behind you as you're steadied to a more stable position.

"I'm good, I'm good!" You insist, shaking off the hands of your 'saviour'. Have no interest in being a damsel in distress, or some sober guy trying to take advantage of you.

Looking down to check your laces are tied properly, you check over your shoulder to make sure the guy isn't creepily waiting for a thank you that he can turn into an intrusive game of 21 questions—'are you open-minded?' or 'do you live alone?'—but when you glance in his direction, you regret it. Notice the tattoos immediately. Recognise the eyes. Want to die.

"Oh."

"Oh," he says back with a smile, imitating you. Suddenly, the confidence you'd had earlier when looking at him from afar dissolves into nothingness, just like the alcohol in your bloodstream. You feel rather sober, but your body would definitely disagree. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, suddenly a little stuck for words, desperately trying to play things cool. "Are you okay?"

The pouting of his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek only serves to make you internally cringe. Men who look like him have no business being on streets like this. Should be in a museum. Strung up on the walls with the other masterpieces. Admired by everyone who looks his way.

In a way you don't yet realise, he is.

Though he's not in galleries, he's often burning into people's laptop screens. Is the background of a fair few thousand lock screens. Indeed, he is admired by everyone who looks his way, just not in the traditional sense.

"I'm not the one who just fell into a car," he reminds you, as if you could forget your embarrassment so quickly.

"Was just seeing if you'd catch me," you bullshit, the confidence you usually have returning tenfold. Was just a momentary blip. He's just a man, after all.

"Oh?" He chirps, decidedly curious. "So you fell for me?"

"Stumbled."

"Semantics."

His fluency, and the fact he just said 'semantics' so casually in conversation, clues you in on the fact he might be a language student, too. 

Could be useful study partners for each other, you think, then mentally berate yourself for already masterminding ways to see him again.

"So, where you going?" He asks, not caring to downplay his curiosity. The bartenders were free-pouring his drinks just as severely as they poured yours. The only difference is that his were on the house—'cause you were right. He does have a recognisable face. "Should probably go with you. Make sure you don't fall into the road."

"Stumble," you insist, a little pleased with the boldness of his suggestion, but not wanting to blindly agree. "My friend," you say glancing around, only to find yourself completely alone. "She wanted to go catch the next GLOSS set. So, I guess that's where we're going."

"Just down the road," he says, knowing the schedule like the back of his hand. Bounces from club to club supporting his friends, just like they would for him. If he wanted, he could get a slot up there, too. He doesn't care for it. "I'll walk with you, if you want? My friends are heading there anyway."

It's not a bad offer.

In fact, it's probably the best offer you'll get all night.

"C'mon," he nods his head to the side, encouraging you to follow him. Checks his phone for the time. "Starts in five."

If there's one thing you've indulged in since moving to Seoul, it's how safe you always feel. Security cameras are on every corner, and you've walked home countless times without any issues, even late into the night. While the place isn't perfect, it's far safer than your home country.

Still, you're not a complete idiot.

"It's not wise to follow strange men down dark alleys," you tell him.

He holds out his hand. Waits for you to shake it. Cocks a brow when you hesitate, so introduces himself.

"Jungkook. Nice to meet you. Now, can we please hurry up? I promised I'd be there."

Narrowing your eyes, you don't shake his hand. Arms folded over your chest, there is ice to your exterior, and given how warm his eyes are, you doubt it'll last for very long. May as well keep up this hard-to-get act while you still can.

Walking on past him, you call back, "Alright then. Lead the way."

In the domed mirror meant for reversing cars at the end of a tight alley, you see him laugh. "Wrong way, idiot."

Pausing, you scrunch your face up. Don't turn to face him for at least a second or so—but when you do, you're surprised to see him walking towards you. Hooking his arm around your waist, he carries on walking in the 'wrong' direction, taking you with him.

"Was just fucking with you," he grins. Nods towards a sign by another basement entrance, listing both Blu-Tae and GLOSS.

By the door, Rae is looking around like a mother duck who's just lost some of her ducklings when crossing the road. Breathes a sigh of relief when she spots you.

"C'mon," she grins, then realises who you're with. Says nothing of it, 'cause she doesn't want to be weird, but she recognises him, too. Decides she's just had a little too much to drink. There's no way it's him. Holds out her hand for you.

Reaching out for her, you're let go from Jungkook's grip, ready to get lost in the lights once more.

HAEJANG24 WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 05:53

Seoul is a city for the nocturnal. The restaurants and bars are open until the last men are standing. Given how much you've had to drink, you're surprised you still are.

Rae had dipped an hour or so ago. Had hit it off with Mr Blu-Tae himself. Seduced him with the suggestion that their couple name would be Blu-Rae. He'd said they should go to a DVD-bang. Would be fitting. See what Blu-rays were on file.

Naturally, you'd looked on with mild disgust and also admiration for how quickly she'd worked her magic. Everyone knows what goes down in DVD-bangs. Small private rooms, often with projector screens and the world's least comfortable futons, they're somewhere you hope to never end up—but also can't wait to hear all the details the next morning when Rae comes to your room for a debrief.

You'd been left under the surveillance of Jungkook.

"Look after her," Rae had instructed, then narrowed her eyes. "Or I'll destroy your reputation with a single twitter thread, Tokki."

It's a threat he's taken seriously. Knows how the internet works, and even though he's never done anything worthy of a cancellation, he also doesn't intend on starting now. The fact you seem to have no idea who he is during the daylight hours intrigues him. It's a rarity on streets like these.

Even when a few people asked for pictures with him on your walk to the hangover soup place, you didn't clock it as weird. Figured they were friends passing by, wanting to document their chance run-in. Just another memory of the night. The way Jungkook had greeted them was full of warmth, and kindness. Why wouldn't you assume they were mates?

You were also still incredibly drunk at the time, so didn't think to question it. Was keen for food, and Jungkook had insisted on hangover soup, and so that's where you are. Dishes nearly empty, far more of it eaten by him than you, you're laughing about nothing and everything all at once.

"Right," Jungkook declares, deciding he cannot hold in a question that's been tickling at his brain for the entire meal. "What the fuck is that?"

Coat left in the cloakroom, long forgotten about, your tattoos are on full display for him, just like his are for you. Up your arm they trail; a patchwork of teeny tiny identifiers. Latin phrases around skulls, birth flowers of the people you hold close, butterflies and stars. There's an ode to your favourite musician and your favourite Shakespeare quote, too. The fabric of you etched into your skin. There's no reinventing yourself, even half the world away from home.

You know precisely which tattoo Jungkook is asking about. You've asked yourself the same question a few times.

"Fuck off," you laugh.

While most of your tattoos are gorgeous, there's one that was done by a rogue artist on a girlie holiday a few years ago. What was supposed to be a seashell now looks like... well, nothing really. It's just a blob, thanks to the artist being absolutely terrible. The only solace you find in it is that your two best friends have an equally awful permanent reminder of that holiday on their bodies, too.

"It doesn't look how it's supposed to," you explain with a little pout. "I got royally screwed over."

He cocks a brow. You still haven't told him what it is. He isn't gonna ask you twice.

With a grumble, you feebly admit, "A shell."

And then he's laughing. Really laughing. Laughing so hard you think he might piss himself—which you'd actually prefer, because then he could be the embarrassed one, instead.

"I'm calling you Shelly from now on," he says with a broad smile. Has had his fair share of tattoo blunders, and knows you must've developed an affection towards how shitty it is. Would have gotten it covered up, otherwise. "That's incredible."

"You're calling me so such thing," you assure him, but you also can't help but laugh.

"I am," he tells you, then really solidifies it. "Shelly."

"Fuck off," you whine, doubling down. Scanning his arms, you try and pick out anything you can use against him, too. "If I'm Shelly, then you're Mike."

"Mike?!" He protests.

"Yeah," you insist, pointing towards the microphone on his forearm. "Mike."

"You are not calling me Mike. Do I look like a Mike?!"

"Do I look like a Shelly?!"

You've got a point. It's not the name he would have first associated with you - but it is cute, he thinks. Cute how mortified you seem. Cute how you can't help but smile.

After a little bit of back and forth, it's decided that neither of you look like your namesakes.

"Y'know, we kinda have matching tattoos," he says, holding out his arm for you to study. "Or at least, the placements."

And sure enough, below his elbow lives the outline of a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Holding your own arm out next to his, below your elbow is a butterfly. Above it, is a teeny tiny moon.

Like Jungkook's moon, it's a crescent. Was supposed to symbolise new beginnings. You wonder what his means, but don't ask. Instead, you marvel at the coincidence of it all.

He presses his index finger against the butterfly on the inside of your forearm. The echoing chatter of the restaurant fades softly into nothingness as he says, "Nabi."

You nod. Even if you have spoken with him in English this entire time, it's nice to hear him speak in his mother tongue, no matter how minimal - so you reciprocate. Press your index finger against his bunny. Smile. Say, "Tokki."

It further confirms to Jungkook that you have no idea who he is. Has been a while since he's met a girl in a circumstance like this where that's the case. Likes the anonymity of it all. Is hiding his identity from you, and yet hasn't felt such vulnerability for years.

"Daltokki, right?" You continue, not wanting the silence to linger for too long. "The rabbit in the moon?"

You're not wrong, but you're also not entirely right.

"Yeah," he smiles regardless. "That's it."

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 07:12

"Shhh," Jungkook quietly laughs. 

His hand is over your mouth and the other is on your hip as he guides you into his apartment. With your back to his chest, you've both been giggling for the entire ride to his place.

He had insisted that he should walk you home, and was surprised by the offense you seemed to have taken by this. You then told him that he absolutely could not seduce you, and that it was very gender-role-conforming for him to think that you were incapable of getting home by yourself.

"Maybe I should be the one to make sure you get home safely," you had said with a false sense of concern, which had made him laugh quite considerably.

In all reality, you didn't mind him offering to get you home. You just hadn't tidied your room. Didn't really expect to be taking a boy back to your place, much less one that looks like him.

Together, you'd caught the early morning bus over to Itaewon instead of a taxi, 'cause you're still on a student budget and Jungkook wasn't quite ready to blow his cover just yet.

You've been teasing him—questioning his status as a potential International Super Spy—ever since he took your hand and guided you into one of the flashiest apartment complexes you've ever been in. There was security. Doormen. A passcode for the elevator—not to mention that he was heading up to the seventh floor once you were in it. Might not sound like much, but when there are only seven floors to the entire building, it makes it the penthouse by default.

"It's not a penthouse," he'd insisted. "Plus, I live with friends. Only pay a third of the rent."

But a third of his rent is more money than you'll probably see in three months of post-grad work. You're drunk, but you're not stupid. You also know that the rental market here differs significantly from your home country. Monthly rent is cheap, but the deposits are extortionate. Sure, he'll get it back when he leaves, but to have the initial money needed for a place like this? He's not a regular student, if one at all, that much is sure.

"Not sure who's home," Jungkook whispers as you both kick your shoes off in the entryway. Given the looks of the other shoes, it's clear that this is a guys-only living situation. You're proven right when he continues, "Betcha Tae's still in that damn DVD-bang, but Yoongi might be back."

"Yoongi?" You question.

"GLOSS," Jungkook says, remembering how oblivious you are to who he is. Reaching down to grab your shoes, he isn't gonna leave them by the door. Will take them to his room. Doesn't want the boys asking questions, if they are in. Knows they'll just use it as an excuse to publicly roast him whenever they're next online together.

Given that a stream is scheduled for Sunday night, he doesn't want to tempt fate.

Their current choice of wind-up, which the viewers have been eating up, is the joke that Jungkook is a virgin. He's not, but he never knows how to defend himself without sounding like a tool, so always gets a little awkward. A lot of their viewers love it. Join in on the joke. Some take it seriously. He doesn't care.

Next month, Taehyung will do something dumb, and he'll become the favourite joke for a while. Maybe Yoongi. But for now, it's Jungkook.

None of them take it to heart. They're just a group of friends who share their gaming hangouts online, and accidentally made it to the top of the ranks.

They aren't particularly good at gaming, but that's part of the charm. Crescent Collective is how they're known: Blu-Tae, GLOSS and Tokki.

After a bet went wrong, and they all lost, they ended up with moon tattoos and their respective 'symbols'. Jungkook's is a rabbit, Tae's is a blu-ray DVD disk (because he really is committed to the bit), and Yoongi's is stars to symbolise the shine of fresh gloss. Jungkook's makes the most sense. Yoongi's is pretty decent. Taehyung's is just... Well, it's very him.

Sliding open the door into the main living area, Jungkook has to cover your mouth again when you gasp at the sheer size of the place.

"I thought butterflies were supposed to be silent?" He teases. "Quiet for me, Nabi."

His place is bigger than your family home, you think. Hushing you again, he's laughing—and then he's cursing at the sight of a half-naked Yoongi by the kitchen counter.

In his boxers, with half a clementine slice hanging from his lips, he's just as shocked to see Jungkook with you. Gets over it pretty quickly.

"Don't mind me," he says, chewing down on the fruit with a smirk. Looks towards you. "Apologies for the lack of clothes."

With your shoes hooked on his fingers, Jungkook's other large hand is still over your mouth. You're not sure you can form any words as it is, but you do notice the crescent moon and stars on Yoongi's ribs.

"Not a word to Tae," is all Jungkook says. Knows that he'll be in for a world of teasing tomorrow if he gets wind of it. "I mean it."

Holding his hands up, Yoongi's still smirking, but he is backing away into a room just off the kitchen. "My lips are sealed."

Watching as he closes the door, you wonder how much truth is in his words. Jungkook knows it's absolute bullshit. Chooses not to dwell on it. Loosens his grip on you and heads towards his own room. Turns back to check you're following him, and can't help but smile when he knows that you are.

Tossing your shoes just inside the door, Jungkook is quick to pick up a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor, before chucking them over his desk chair. He tweaks his bedding. Straightens it out. Looks a little shy as he turns to face you.

"Made it home safe," he says quietly, as you close the door behind you.

You nod. Keep a little distance. Say, "It's dangerous to sleep after drinking. Make sure you build a tower of pillows in the middle of your bed so you don't roll onto your back."

Both of you are far more sober than you were earlier. There's no need to worry about anything like that.

And yet he nods, now. Says, "You're probably right. You can always stay, though. Just to check I don't die in my sleep, or whatever."

"It'd be the responsible thing to do," you nod, wondering if he can tell just how fast your heart is beating. "But I don't have any pyjamas."

Jungkook swallows. The way he looks at you now is entirely different to how he'd looked at you in the club. Back then, he'd been bold. Flirtatious.

Now, he seems vulnerable. Needy.

"I sleep in my underwear," he tells you, unsure if you'll actually be sleeping. While he likes the idea of fucking you, part of him doesn't want to. Fears it'll ruin the magic of the unknown. The way he throbs at the mere thought of it would suggest that his hopes outweigh his fears. "I don't mind, if you don't."

The clothes Jungkook's wearing are baggy. You've seen nothing of his figure.

Reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs on the fabric of his T-shirt. Pulls it over his head and discards it in one swift movement. The sound of it crumpling on the floor is abrasive in how it makes you feel. Raw. Unrefined. You suppose it's just a natural consequence of seeing the toned muscles of his chest. How his waist defies what you thought was possible for masculine builds, and how broad his chest is. The indent of his collarbones, and the lines of his pelvis that draw your eyes downwards.

A pair of Calvins peek just above the waistband of his jeans, and a silver chain rests around his neck. Light from the city filters in, and LED lights around his impressive computer set-up paint him in a hue of violet.

"No," you manage to reply, which is a miracle, you think. "I don't mind."

And then you reciprocate. Reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow back his nerves, or maybe his desires, makes you feel far bolder than you should.

"It's really uncomfortable to sleep in jeans," you tell him.

He nods. Agrees. Threads the button of his trousers through its loop. Doesn't take them off yet. Waits for you to do the same. Keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours. Doesn't let his gaze wander, no matter how much he has to fight all his instincts not to fully take you in. Is still pretending like he doesn't want you in the most indecent of ways.

The room you're in right now is known worldwide. 

People set it as their zoom backgrounds. It's on Pinterest. There are YouTube videos attempting to recreate the set-up. If he were to power up his computer—which, in all fairness, is only on standby—and go live, there'd be a thousand viewers within minutes. Doesn't matter what he plays, or who he's with. He doesn't give it much thought anymore. Is just life.

Sometimes, he regrets not being a faceless streamer, but he also knows that it's part of the appeal. Connection, and the fantasy that comes with this almost dystopian, parasocial idea of it.

After all, the meeting of his eyes with yours across a busy club led you to this point. Human connection in the simplest of ways, that he thinks could culminate in the most complex of ways, too.

"Okay," he says. "So take them off."

"You want me to?" You ask just to tease a little bit, and when a smile flickers onto his seemingly nervous lips, you're glad you did.

"You think we'd be here right now if I didn't?" He says with a tweak of his brows.

"You've got a point."

With that, you push your jeans down and reveal the matching set of black underwear you're in. It's nothing special. In fact, it's not really a set, but it's close enough that it'd fool anyone who didn't know.

Jungkook, in this moment, is indeed a beautiful fool.

There's a lopsided grin on his face as he lets his eyes rake down your body. Is shameless as he indulges in you. Nods, as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"It's cold," you tell him, urging him along a little bit.

"Shit," he says without much thought. "Sorry. Was just... Yeah. Shit."

It's both endearing and wholly confusing how Jungkook flips from confident to cute. A man of duality. It makes you giggle, and then you're the one biting down on your bottom lip. Are both a little bashful. A little shy.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep," you remind him before it goes any further.

Looking at him now, knowing you want him in the worst of ways, it's testing all of your willpower not to just cut to the chase.

Thing is, you liked his company tonight. Want it again. Want to give him a reason to seek you out once more. Want him thinking about you in clubs, and looking for you in crowded bars. Pining. Yearning. Needy.

"It's already gone seven," he tells you, walking towards his bed. Knocks his head to the side. Silently tells you to follow suit. "Will probably only get a couple hours in."

"Better than nothing. Plus, you're actually really irritating," you bullshit as you get into bed with him. Are adamant you won't fuck him, but you do let him pull you in closer.

"Oh, yeah?" He grins.

"Mhmm," you nod, pretending as if you aren't looking at his lips. "You'll be less annoying when you're asleep."

"I'm never gonna sleep again," he assures you. "Will annoy you forever."

"I know where the front door is," you say as you stroke a few of his loose, wavy hairs back behind his ears. They fall freely almost right away, but it just gives you another excuse to play with it "I can just leave. I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep. Pointless if you're awake."

"So I have to be asleep for you to stay?"

"Mhmm," you hum.

He immediately loosens his grip on you and flops into an overdramatic sleeping position. Fake snores. Gets you giggling. Can't hide his smile, either. Laughs through the god-awful noises he's making.

But it is late, and you're both tired. As much as he'd like to stay awake with you, the pull of sleep is just too tempting now that you're beneath his sheets. It's not like he doesn't wanna fuck you. His semi is very much present, but neither of you mention it.

"Y'know what's sad about butterflies?" Jungkook mumbles after the laughter dies down. He carefully begins to trace the lines of your tattoo, eyes entirely focused on the tip of his finger.

You purr a response before you fully vocalise one. "Tell me."

He glances up at you only very momentarily. Looks back down. Is quiet when he says, "How quickly they die. Spend over half their lifespan growing into these beautiful creatures, and then they have, what—A week? Two? Three, tops—and then they're gone. It's like the cherry blossoms in spring. Beautiful, and then—" He clicks his fingers. "—gone."

Stroking back some loose strands of his hair, you wonder if he's thinking about you. About this chance encounter. Beautiful, then gone.

"Just means you have to appreciate them while they're still around," you say softly. "Cherish them, because you know you only have them for a moment."

His gaze lifts to meet yours. The reflection of his LED lights makes it seem like butterflies are floating around in his deep, dark eyes, too.

There are stories he could tell you of ancient folklore; about human souls taking the form of butterflies. Of justice, and peace, and spirits. Of back in time, when tigers still smoked. He could tell you of his favourite butterflies. Of the black butterflies that are as large as his hands in the summer. Of the huge display in a museum downtown that would transfix him as a child.

Instead, he gently presses his lips against the lines of your butterfly tattoo.

The rate at which your heart is beating multiplies. Like a swarm of butterflies chasing through your veins, you've no control over the way you're feeling. He's brought your artwork to life; set the souls inside of your butterfly free, only for it to be apparent that the souls belonged to the both of you, anyway.

You know that this is one of those moments; a butterfly passing on by through your lives. Here, and then gone. Beautiful, but fleeting.

There's a shyness to Jungkook now, as he rolls onto his back. A reluctance to get things wrong. He doesn't look at you, just nibbles on his bottom lip and pretends as if the empty white ceiling ahead of him is the most interesting thing he's seen all night.

It's not.

You are.

You, and those eyes that make him feel like the butterfly on your arm is tickling at his tummy. He finds himself jealous when he faces you again and begins tracing the thin lines of your butterfly once more. Wants to embed himself into you like the ink that's carved out a home in your skin.

"Sorry," he mumbles, seemingly regretful of the tender kiss he'd pressed against your arm just a short moment ago. "Don't know why I did that."

"It's okay," you reply without much thought. Like him, you're letting the way you feel dictate the words you say. Care not for playing coy. "I liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jungkook wants to stop his mouth from letting his desires escape. The issue is, he drank a little too much tonight and his lips are a little too loose. Too bad. Can't help himself from asking, "Can I do it again?"

You're just as bad.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Please."

The way his lashes splay against his cheeks as he presses another kiss to your arm is nothing short of celestial. Like that damn moon on his arm, he's got a beauty about him that's hard to capture in words. Ethereal feels too fantastical, but gorgeous feels too dense. He resides in a realm somewhere between the two. Somewhere you'd like to stay forever.

Forever, sadly, only lasts a few hours. You've brunch plans with new friends you can't bail on yet for fear of running a friendship before it's even begun.

You see yourself out. Jungkook's still asleep. Not quite 10AM, you've a dozen missed calls from Rae, and a cold can of coke waiting for you in your fridge. Funnily enough, though, you don't really feel hungover. Must have gotten it all out of your system the night before.

It's only fitting, when you think about Jungkook on the subway home, and how soberingly drunk the idea of him makes you feel. 

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:39

Brunch had, predictably, been a yawn-fest.

The people were perfectly nice, but you spent the entire time thinking about Jungkook; how you'd left him in a pretty slumber, the LEDs behind his computer still glowing, with not even so much as a note to say thank you.

It's not like he had any paper on his desk, and you weren't about to start rummaging around his room. You also didn't want to wake him. Part of it was because you knew you'd be saying goodbye, and the concept of that was one that you didn't like all that much.

And so your subway ride back to your dorm had been spent searching his name. He didn't take long to find. 

From the club's Instagram, you found GLOSS and quickly discovered that there was far more to both him and Blu-Tae than just being DJs. Their follower counts were wild. Numbers you know you'll never see on your own account. Verification check marks accented their display names. 

Who are you? You'd thought to yourself, incredibly perplexed by it all.

Jungkook was littered all over their pages, and yet it still took a while for you to click through to his account. You're not sure why, but think that perhaps the unknown was a nice place to reside within. Safer. 

CR3SC3NT_T0KK1 was his username—and curiously, Tokki was also his display name. Brows furrowed, you'd almost dropped your phone when you saw his follower count. It eclipsed both of his friends. 

Filled with gaming set-ups, merch drops, and general life dumps, it was pretty clear that whoever Jungkook had made himself out to be the night before was not who he was in real life. 

Equal parts offended and intrigued, you were only more confused when you saw that Rae was already following him—but not following Taehyung.

"What?" she'd beamed when you'd asked her about it after you'd arrived home from brunch, a scoop of hangover ice cream being waved around in the air with her flamboyant gestures. "He's, like, one of the biggest streamers in the country—and if I want to keep Tae obsessed with me, we need as many connections as possible. Jungkook's a frog to me, baby, not a prince. Don't you worry your little cotton socks. I'm not after him."

"I wouldn't care if you were," you'd blatantly lied in response, and then you'd giggled together at how ridiculous you were both being over boys you didn't really know.

Hovering over the bright purple 'JOIN STREAM' button later that evening, part of you holds back. Think it'd be weird. Strange. That he'd somehow know it was you.

Dipping your mouse, you tick the checkbox to join as an anonymous viewer. Take a breath. Think fuck it. Watch with bated breath as the loading wheel turns—and then he's there.

Jeon Jungkook has the kind of beauty that transcends shitty quality streams. Smiling as he jokes with one of his friends through a headset with a pair of black bunny ears affixed to the top of them, you hear a voice you almost recognise. Notice the friend he's streaming with in the top corner. Realise you do know him, too.

Hair as blue as the trees are green, Tae has just as much boyish charm as Jungkook, but also an incredibly large hickey that seems to match the ones on Rae's neck.

"Nah, can we get an L in the chat for Kook," he's teasing. Sure enough, the chat begins to explode with the letter, and Jungkook looks so pretty when he protests.

"It's not an L!"

"It is!" Tae insists. "Should have seen him, guys. Was following this girl around like a lovesick puppy—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"And she didn't even give him her number. Not even her name!"

"That's not true!" Jungkook whines. He switches between Korean and English with ease, sometimes just single words, other times whole sentences. "I have a name."

"What is it?"

"Not telling you."

"Cause you don't have one!"

"No, because you'll all make my life a living hell," Jungkook laughs—and then notices a bright blue comment lighting up in the chat. His eyes widen. "Fuck."

GLOSS: Was calling her Nabi when he got home last night Almost shit his pants when he saw me

"Yoongi, I'm gonna shave your eyebrows off in your sleep," Jungkook growls—only for the chat to start spamming butterfly emojis. Closing his eyes, he leans back in his chair, the still paused video game long forgotten about, now. Thousands of people are in their chat, and even more are watching the stream.

"Guys, get it trending," Taehyung goads. "Tweet, I dunno, bunny and butterfly emojis."

"Don't do that!"

"Hashtag find Jungkook's butterfly."

"Do NOT do that!"

"I'm like a modern-day cupid," Taehyung beams.

"I'm shaving your eyebrows, too."

Closing the stream, you sit for a moment, mouth ajar, unable to process what on earth you've just witnessed. Part of you feels as if it must have an incredibly vivid daydream; a projection of your heart's desire.

And you know you shouldn't, but when you get home from running errands the following day, you join the stream again. Blush when you notice the chat is still teasing Jungkook.

"I'm gonna block you all," he threatens them with a grin, which only encourages them to send even more butterfly emojis.

The next day is no different, nor the day after that.

He is, though. Has been letting it all play on his mind. Doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to streaming.

"What if she didn't even like me, guys," he whines to the chat. "And sees this and is like... mortified. I think I'd punch myself in the face if she ever saw any of this."

You toy with the idea of sending a comment into the chat. Something that only he'd realise was you. Thing is, you feel bad for intruding. As if you shouldn't be prying. As if you're eavesdropping on him chatting with friends, and not on the stream he's broadcasting live around the world.

Typing out a message, you deliberate your choice.

Punch urself in the face pls, tokki x the message reads. 

Simple. Effective. To the point.

But everyone calls him that, you stupidly realise, now.

And so you change the name to 'Mike'. 

Before you can even really realise what you've done, you've pressed send.

The message flitters into the chat feed. He's about to resume his game. Doesn't notice it at first.

Gives the chat one final glance, and then his eyes widen. He sits up taller. Straighter. "Mike?"

You close the lid of your laptop immediately.

"Fuck."

THE STREETS WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE FRIDAY 23:51

"Tae is on in five," Rae squeals, dragging you down the road at lightning speed. 

You'd spent far too long at dinner, and also had far too much to drink with your food, so have been forced to make an undignified sprint to the club in an attempt to make it in before the place reaches capacity.

There's already a queue. You can see it from a mile away.

Realistically, Rae could have gotten Taehyung to add her to the guest list. He'd offered. She didn't wanna look needy, so had played it coy about her plans for the evening. 

After a single beer and soju, she'd decided that the idea of him hooking up with anyone but her simply wouldn't do.

"Shit," she sighs in defeat, looking at the queue. The direction you've come from means that you reach the entrance before you reach the queue, but even then, you can tell it goes around the block. "Are there no other clubs these people can go to?!"

There are—but this club is rammed tonight for the same reason Club Sundown was rammed the week before. People want to see the Crescent Collective. 

You didn't realise it at the time, but you'd bypassed the queue of the second club last weekend because Jungkook had been with you.

And as if by a stroke of luck, or perhaps a twist of fate, the same tattooed hand that had held you as you slept last weekend is now putting out a cigarette just a few steps away.

Eyes landing on yours, he looks away again, almost immediately. Feels embarrassed. Stupid. For the way you left him, and also for the way he knows you must know who he is, now.

Behind a red rope, he's away from the general crowd. It's sort of obnoxious, you think—but also know Jungkook is anything but.

"They're with me," Jungkook says to the bouncer, not really looking at you, but nodding in your general direction. Is deliberately keeping a little distance. Instead, he says to Rae, "Tae wouldn't want you waiting in line."

Nodding, the security guard makes way for you, stamping the backs of your hands with UV-activated ink as you walk past.

"Thank you!" Rae beams.

"No worries," Jungkook smiles right back. "He's about to start. Was just getting air. You're lucky you arrived when you did."

"Angel," she praises. "I'll get you a drink while we're in there."

You know her well enough now to know that she absolutely will not, but you don't say anything. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest as you walk, suddenly feeling all awkward in Jungkook's presence.

"Nabi," he curtly greets you as you head down the stairs.

"Tokki," you greet him back just as formally. Consider calling him 'Mike' instead, but you chicken out.

Face scrunching up, Jungkook tries his best not to cringe at himself. Doesn't know if you're addressing him by his tattoo moniker, or just calling him Tokki because you know it's his identifier online.

"How have you been?" He asks, not wanting to let it simmer.

"Alright," you say, aware of how awkward this all feels, as you descend the stairs and into the club. The music is getting louder, and soon you won't be able to hear him talk unless you're in each other's ears. "And you?"

"Alright."

Just as quickly as he appeared, Jungkook is lost to the crowd. 

He doesn't care to stick around if he's just going to be hung out to dry by you again. He tells himself that he only made sure you got in to keep Rae happy for Taehyung's sake—yet as he rejoins his friends in their booth, he finds himself desperately seeking you out again.

It takes him a while, but he eventually spots you by the bar in conversation with Rae. He can't make out what you're saying, but notices how your eyes are flickering around the room. Seems as if you're hunting for something. 

Deep down, even if he pretends like he doesn't, he hopes it's for him.

Pulled away from your search by the bartender passing over drinks to the pair of you, Jungkook feels bad. Knows the drinks are pricey in this place. Also knows, from the conversations you've already had, that you're on a tight budget. Had said that once the semester starts, you'll stop going to parties. Are seemingly unaware of the fact the parties never stop in this city. You'll learn.

When your eyes finally land on his a little while later, you're surprised by his intense gaze—intrigued by his lack of shame for being caught out. He doesn't look away or appear embarrassed. If anything, it's quite the opposite.

Girls are vying for his attention all around him, yet you receive all of it. Half the room away, hundreds of people create a sea between you both. Jungkook thinks he'd swim through it, no matter how choppy the water, if it meant he could have you right now.

You're the one who left, though. 

It's up to you to come back.

Part of you doesn't want to, but then you see another girl making advances, and Rae's horror over other girls trying it on with Taehyung seems to have rubbed off on you. The idea of it makes your skin crawl. You're drunk, and a little reactive, but Jungkook likes playing with fire.

As you work your way through the crowd towards him, he tries his best not to grin. Finds himself vindicated in his desire to be close to you, 'cause it seems like you want it, too.

Sliding in between Jungkook and the girl, you turn and apologise.

"Just need to borrow him for a second," you smile, clutching at his shirt and pulling him away from the booth before she even has a chance to protest.

With an ever-so-satisfied smirk, Jungkook shrugs towards the other girl, and lets you drag him wherever you want. He's putty in your hands, a little tipsy and desperately in need of attention from you. 

For the past week, he's played scenario over scenario over scenario in his head about this moment, and now that it's happening, he's glad he let you seek him out. Is so pleased that you actively want him just as much as he wants you.

In the middle of the crowd, you're hidden from prying eyes. It's too dark to notice any discerning features of the people around you, yet somehow, Jungkook seems like a vibrant golden light to you. Impossible to miss. Unable to ignore.

You wanna talk. Ask him about who the fuck he is. Explain that you didn't mean to leave so heartlessly.

Taehyung's set is so overwhelmingly loud, though. Can barely even hear yourself think.

As soon as he'd spotted Rae in the crowd, Taehyung had sent the bar coordinator to go and get her. She's sitting pretty up in the DJ booth, incredibly pleased with herself. Notices you and Jungkook almost immediately. Knows it'll be on Twitter in the next few hours, especially if that damn butterfly tattoo of yours is noticed.

Bunnies and butterflies have been trending for days.

Jungkook speaks, but you can't hear him.

"Huh?" You ask, getting on your tippy toes, but it's fruitless. Even as his hand drops to your waist to steady you and keep you in place, you can barely make out his words. "I can't hear you!"

He can't hear jack shit, either. Frowns. Looks around. Spots Yoongi by the booth and gestures towards the side of the room. When Yoongi nods back, it's Jungkook who drags you through the crowd, now. Just beyond the DJ booth is a little black door that Yoongi meets you by. Taps in the code. Nods in your direction.

"A pleasure," he says with a knowing smirk. Miraculously, you can hear him, but ultimately, it's because you're not in the direct line of the speakers now.

You don't get a chance to respond before Jungkook gets you into what can only described as a dark hole as quickly as he can. Romance, you think to yourself, but you also are very aware of the fact Jungkook doesn't let go of your hand, even when he's searching for the light switch. It takes him a second, but he manages to recall the approximate location quickly enough.

Dingy yellow light floods into the room. Small and boxy, it's a 3-in-1 storage room, bathroom, and dressing room for 'talent'. It's why Yoongi had the code, but you can't imagine anyone with any shred of self-respect actually using this place. The walls are the same grey tiles as the floor, and the light bulb hangs from a wire without a shade. The tap on the sink drips, and you're pretty sure there's a leak in the far corner by the mirror.

None of that matters, though. All you can focus on is the man in front of you. Though not soundproof, the room does offer a far more muted version of Taehyung's set. More importantly, it provides you with privacy.

It's been a week since you last saw him, face to face.

Though you have, admittedly, seen him what feels like a million times on low-quality streams from his bedroom.

Realistically, it's been about three times, but you think about it almost constantly.

"You left," is all he says, a little pout on his lips.

It's cute, you think, that he is so outwardly offended by such an act. You would have thought that a man of his position would have a habit of leaving, himself. Then again, you didn't know of his status when you left him in bed that morning.

"And you didn't die," you reply with a teasing smile, trying not to make it sound so severe. "You were fine without me."

"I'm not joking," he says, even if he can't help but smile at the recollection of how stupid the conversation before bed had been. "You left. It was rude."

"I had brunch plans," you tell him, reaching your hands out for his. He wants to resist. Fails. Lets you pull him closer. Incredibly close, in fact. So close that you begin to notice all sorts of things. His freckles. A small scar on his cheek. A tiny fleck of glitter on his skin, no doubt from one of the girls who had been desperate for his attention earlier. "You'd only had a few hours sleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Could have left a note," he says, still pouty but far quieter. You can smell the Jack on his breath. Have always hated the taste, but think you could grow to like it. "Your number. Something, at least."

"I could've," you admit, edging even closer. Closing the gap. Nudging your nose against his. But then you smile. Pull back. Tease, "And you could have warned me that I'd become a trending topic on Twitter."

Just like that, Jungkook's pout snaps into the prettiest smile. His face scrunches up, lines creasing on his nose. Beneath his closed eyes reside the sweetest little puffs. He's got the kind of face that is impossible not to like.

"Ah," he cringes.

"Yeah," you laugh at the stupidity of it all. What did he expect? That you wouldn't find out? "Ah."

"In my defence," he holds his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "You called me Tokki. How was I to know you didn't know?"

"Oh, give over," you laugh, as he reaches for your hands once again. Pulls you closer. "You know I didn't know."

Truthfully, he does know this, but it was nice to be unknown for a little while. Nice to not second guess your intentions. Even now, knowing that you know, he feels like none of it matters. 

"Look," he begins, toying with the hem of your cropped shirt. Lets his fingertips graze your bare skin. Tries his best not to think about what you look like half-naked. Fails. "I only came out tonight 'cause I hoped I'd see you. I don't care about staying out till ass-o'clock, again."

"Think I've only just caught up on sleep," you hum, angling your chin up and giving him the perfect opportunity to make a move that goes beyond flirtatious touches.

"Exactly," he smiles, letting his hand squeeze the side of your waist. Pulls you closer. "And I've not drunk half as much tonight, but I think I could do with you making sure I don't die, again."

"Yeah?"

Nodding as he nudges his nose against yours, Jungkook is all smiles. Lets his lips line up against your pout.

"Yeah," he mumbles—then lets the word get lost in your lips.

Sinking into what it feels like to kiss you, Jungkook can't help but feel satisfaction. Has finally caught the damn butterfly he's been after all week. 

He's played a lot of games. Won a lot of battles.

And yet victory has never tasted so sweet.

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 02:07

You retrace your steps. Get a taxi to his place, 'cause there's no point pretending like he can't afford it. Not anymore.

You're not giggling like you were the first time you were in his elevator, but it's kind of impossible to do so when your back is to the wall and Jungkook's tongue is in your mouth.

Your hands roam his body—waist, ass. If you can squeeze it, you will. Just makes him deepen the kisses. If his large hands weren't cupping your jaw, keeping you close, they'd be doing the exact same thing as yours.

The ding of the elevator pulls you apart just for a second, and then you're the one pulling him down to the corridor to his place.

He doesn't open the door. Just kisses you again. 

Finally understands what it means to get butterflies, 'cause he's got you, now, and he never wants to lose it.

Hooking his hands beneath your ass, he hoists you up. Gets your legs wrapped around him. Could go in, but where's the fun in that? There's a slight danger of getting caught. He knows the hallway security cameras will definitely pick this up. The threat that it could get leaked online, and the simple fact that he couldn't give a shit if it does, is kind of hot.

"I'm not fucking you out here," you tell him through a hushed giggle, when he rests his forehead against yours.

"Woah," he jokes. "Who said anything about fucking?"

"I can literally feel your boner, Jungkook."

"Touché."

He doesn't even attempt to downplay it. He puts you down. Gets you through the threshold of his apartment. Shoes off by the door, there's no need to be quiet. Yoongi and Taehyung are still out, and will be for hours. He could take his time if he really wanted.

But what he wants is you. Doesn't waste time. Gets you in his room. Kinda feels like you never left. Jungkook still wishes you hadn't, but doesn't mind the idea of you making it up to him now.

"So," you hum, trailing your fingertips across his desk. "This is where the magic happens?"

He smiles a little bashfully, head dropping for a moment before his eyes are on yours again. "Yeah. You could say that."

Now that you're back in his space, it's a little embarrassing just how many clues there were. A headset rests on the desk—black, robust, with his signature bunny ears secured on top—and a mic is hooked up by the monitor. The webcam doesn't look special, but the keyboard subtly glows in his darkened room. Violet, like the LEDs behind his screen.

A laptop covered in vinyl stickers is closed next to the set-up. He uses it when he's not streaming on his desktop. At least three of the stickers are of the Crescent Collective's logo.

Turning to fully face him, you rest your palms behind yourself and perch on the edge of the desk.

He gets a little kick out of seeing you so flippantly disregard the domain in which he dominates. Gives him a point to prove. Gets him closing the space between you, hands on your waist, dipping to your ass to leverage further back on his desk. Knows it's sturdy, 'cause he built it himself, but has never tested out quite how strong it really is. Thinks now's as good a time as any to find out.

Your legs wrap around his body with no thought, just the innate understanding that you want him in a way you're sure thousands of people have only dreamt of: in his room, on his desk, that damn 'Go Live' button just a few short clicks away.

Reaching beside you, there's a smirk on your lips as you retrieve his headset. Put it on him. Say, "The ears are cute, Tokki."

He rolls his eyes. Is fighting a smile, and currently losing. He's seen some lewd shit during his time on the internet and is well aware of the fanart that includes the ears and little else. Always found it kinda funny, before.

Now? He's so hard it almost hurts, and he thinks he could grow to like it.

As your arms drape over his shoulders, he takes them off. Puts them on you, instead. Adjusts the sizing. Gets them just right for you. Is attentive, like that. Pulls his head back a little, and then realises what a problem you're gonna be for him.

It's not so much the addition of animal ears that's getting him insatiable, but seeing you adorned with a crown that is so inherently his that does it.

Jungkook's no saint. He's had his fair share of one-nighters. A couple hours of fun never to be spoken of again. Since the group of them signed to their management agency, they've been repeatedly told how important it is to get NDA's signed. Something about it always feels so icky to Jungkook. Cruel, almost. Has only had a couple hook-ups since then, both with flings he's known for a good couple of years, with no fear of them spilling the beans on how prettily he whines when he cums.

You're the first new girl in a long time. He knows he should really pause things before you cut to the chase—but then your hand is trailing down his thick forearm, delicately stroking his rabbit moon with a curious smile. Decides he doesn't care.

"The ears are cute," he replies. Teasingly adds, "Nabi."

The position of your arms over his shoulders ensures the tattoos he'd traced the week before are fully displayed for him. As his eyes drop to your butterfly, you're curiously smitten by the way his lips move to press a kiss against it again.

"Suit me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes flickering back up to yours. "Should also get you a pair of butterfly wings, or something."

"I'd make you wear them," you tell him with a cheeky glint in your eye. "Turn you into a butterfly, yourself. Your girlies in the chat would love that."

Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he'd let you. Not for the girlies in the chat, but for you.

Ghosting his lips against yours, he's waiting for you to press down. Is letting you take the lead.

Your kisses are sweet. Tepid. Reserved.

You're feeling; his hands on your waist, the pressure of his lip rings, the presence of his nose.

And then he's feeling; your bare skin as his large hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, the way your legs wrap around him, the vibration of a small groan against his lips.

The skirt you're in is bunched around your hips, and the positioning is just right for you to feel how hard he is against your underwear. It's a little undignified, you'll admit, but you're impatient, so you take control. Reposition his hand between your legs. Encourage him to take things further.

"Yeah?" He checks.

Nodding into a needy kiss, you mumble, "Please."

It might've been a while, but Jungkook's muscle memory is enviable. He's the best player on the team for that very reason.

As he hooks your underwear to the side, he's pleased to be greeted with indications of your arousal. Smirks into the kisses he's giving you, as his fingertips graze against your clit. Trails his lips to your neck. Wants to hear the way you gasp as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you.

"Fuck," you sigh at the welcome intrusion. Nod, as he curls his finger almost immediately. He's got a lot to thank those damn video games for, that's for sure.

Softly moaning, just how he hoped you would, there's an arch to your back as he picks up a pace. The need to perform, almost.

Head tipping back as Jungkook fucks another finger into you, you're unable to think too cognitively. Can only think about the way he feels. The smell of his hair as he presses kisses against your neck, and how prominent his collarbones are as your nails trail up his toned torso.

"Feels so good," you tell him. Move the hand of yours that's been resting on his shoulder to his hair. Tug on it a little. Elicit the prettiest of whines from him.

There's something to be said for making a man—especially one of such strength, stature, status—so weak. Gets you all giggly. Jungkook can feel the satisfaction ripple through your entire body, and it just makes him groan against your neck even more.

"You're so wet," he praises, pulling back to study your face as he plays with you. Lets his thumb stroke up against your clit ever so gently. Revels in the way you get a little shaky. Twitchy. With those damn bunny ears, you really are like a little rabbit. Jungkook finally understands why the fan artists choose to draw him in such a way. It is hot. "You're making me so fuckin' hard."

And then you're giggling again.

"Is it a joke to you, huh?" He smirks. Looks down at your pussy, all swollen and sopping wet for him, in the hazy violet light of his room. Knows that his throbbing cock is gonna stuff you so fuckin' full that laughing won't be an option. Is desperate for it. "How badly I want you is just a big joke to you, huh, bunny?"

The way he groups you in with his moniker is too damn hot.

"Dunno," you rasp, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm that's building inside you. "Fuck me and find out."

Reaching for the button of his trousers, you're quick as you wrestle his jeans down over his ass. Don't bother pushing them down entirely. Just enough to get his boxers exposed, and in turn, his thick cock. Hard and engorged, his desperation for you is evident. A small patch of precum seeps through the fabric of his boxers. He curses as your thumb strokes against it.

"Condom?" You ask, knowing you've got none on you.

"Hold that thought," he says, regretfully pulling away from you.

Watching on as he pushes down his jeans, and strips himself of his shirt, you're at a loss for words. You've seen him like this before, but it's so much hotter knowing that he's gonna be fucking himself into you as soon as he possibly can.

Jungkook could very easily lead you to his bed. Get you comfy. Reach to his bedside cabinet for a condom. Fuck you how he likes—doggy-style, minimal face-to-face contact—and be done with it all very quickly.

Instead, he says, "Stay here."

Doing as you're told, you watch on as he walks to the cabinet, and retrieves a condom. Admire his back, and his broad shoulders. The valley of his spine, and the hard work he's put into crafting his physique. Smirk to yourself as he dips into his boxers. Strokes himself. Once, twice. Tears the packet open with his teeth, just like you were always taught not to do, and rolls the latex down his thick shaft.

"What?" he smirks as he walks back, realising your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

You say nothing. Smile. Hold your hands out for Jungkook to take, just so you can pull him back even quicker.

Lips pressing into yours as he closes the gap, Jungkook is all smiles. Rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, gathering up your arousal all over his tip. Lines himself up with your entrance. Waits for you to give him the go-ahead.

Hand on his ass, you pull him closer. Edge the crown of his cock into you. Whimper. Beg. "Please."

Sinking into you with a laboured grunt, he's surprised with how much tighter you are around his cock than you were with his fingers. Wet and warm, there's an undeniable pleasure that sparks through his body as he gets familiar with the way you feel.

Slowly, his hips begin to pick up a pace. As his tongue strokes into your mouth, there's no dignity to the way he's taking you. The increased pace means heightened moans, and it's not just you—it's him, too.

"Shit, yeah," he grits. "So fuckin' tight, aren't you?"

Whining, you nod into his kisses. Are at his entire disposal as he grips your waist, proving exactly why Tokki is the perfect nickname for him.

As much as he likes the ears, he's a little worried that he might fuck you so hard they fall off. Doesn't wanna break them, and definitely doesn't wanna think about the story the boys would make up when they go live tomorrow to tease him—but also really wants to fuck you harder.

Which is funny, cause the way he tugs them off with such desperation and tosses them down, you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't care less about breaking them. Doesn't give you a chance to say anything, 'cause his big hands are cradling your face, bringing you in for desperate kisses once more.

There's a lewdness to the sounds you make together, but Jungkook knows that if he was an entirely different kind of streamer, you'd make bank together. Wonders about the way it would look on camera. Worries. Pauses.

"You good?" You check a little breathlessly as he reaches behind you, just to tug the wire to his webcam from the plus.

"Yeah," he nods, still fiddling around behind you. Smiles in the hedonistic haze as your lips find a new home on his neck. Strokes your hair gently, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quietly says, "Just making sure there's no way in hell I accidentally start streaming."

You hum, all purry and pliant. "People would pay good money to see it."

While he agrees, and has had the same thought process, he doesn't care. "You saying I should be charging you for this?"

"Oh, no," you say all very sweetly. "You should be paying me."

"I'll pay you with orgasms," he promises, knowing that it's a rare currency for one-night strands.

You smirk. Pat the top of his head. "Sure you will."

If there's one thing Jungkook loves, it's a challenge.

Pulling back, he turns you around. Gets you bent over his desk with zero opposition from you. Rubs himself against your soaked cunt, then asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smirk, and then settle into a sigh as he pushes into you. The feeling of fullness from Jungkook is one that's hard to compare. So thick, and fat, and heavy, his cock really is just as impressive as he is.

With one hand hooked at the crease of your thigh, the other holds the top of your shoulder. Gets you pushed down onto his cock as far as you possibly can be. There's a slight reflection in his streaming plaque beside the monitor, and you're pleased to see just how intensely focused he is on you, brows furrowed, pretty pink lips resting ajar. The silver of his lip rings and chain catch in the light, and you find you can't look at him for too long. He's too hot.

But then he's reaching down for your clit as he fucks into you. Has your legs shaking. The waves of a familiar sensation begin to lap against the shores of your pleasure.

"Fuck," you whine. "Feels good. Keep it like that."

Jungkook knows better than to ignore your requests. Does as he's told, the pressure of his fingers on your clit only deepening. Rubbing calculated circles against you, he knows just how to work you up. Gets you whining. Mewling. Moaning.

"Gonna cum, aren't you?" he smirks, as his own high builds.

"Fuck—"

"C'mon," he husks, feeling your walls tighten around him. He doesn't stop his relentless chase. Will win your orgasms fair and square. Continues pounding into you. Pace fast, strokes deep, he's everything you could ever want and more—and then he's slowing. Keeping you plugged, nice and deep, but focusing on the way he's toying with your clit. "You know you wanna cream for me. All over my cock, pretty Nabi. C'mon—"

"I'm close," you all but whimper. "So—fuck. So close."

"Yeah, you are," he tells you—and then your legs are shaking, pussy tightly clamping around his cock, one hand tense against his desk while the other grabs at his wrist. Uncontrollable, is the way you whine for him. It's so needy—so desperate and pathetic—that it's almost a sob. Jungkook doesn't ease up. In fact, his hips gain a little pace again as your orgasm shatters around you both. He's breathless, but manages to choke out, "Flithy fuckin' cunt. Feels so fuckin' good. Fuck."

The frail limpness of your body as the orgasm smokes away is cute. Jungkook loves it. You're so weak for him. He fucks into you still, chasing his own high, and your whines only get louder. It's overwhelming, but you never want to lose the feeling.

It doesn't take much. Just a minute or so of your tight cunt, and Jungkook is pulling out. Even though he doesn't ask you to, you get to your knees as he tears the condom off.

"In my mouth," you beg, and who is he to reject such an offer?

Jerking himself to completion, Jungkook is all pretty and pathetic when he cums, too. Looks at you with eyes so starry you'd been forgiven for thinking he was a descendant of the constellations.

He milks the final few spurts of himself onto your wet tongue, and curses when you press dainty kisses to his tip. Stroking your tongue against him, you don't want to waste a drop. Look up at him and find that his eyes are resting shut from the pleasure of it all.

Silence surrounds you both, just your beating hearts and laboured breaths filling to the room. He helps you up. Holds you tight. Hugs you for a little while, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," you giggle - and then he's smiling, too. Feels vindicated by his irrational thoughts about you over the last few days. He pays no mind to the fact you're still technically dressed, and he's basically naked.

As he sorts himself out, you perch back up on his desk and languidly swing your legs. Enjoy the thought of memories plaguing him whenever he tried to play his little games over the next few days.

"You wanna grab a shower?" he offers. "Food, too? Dunno about you, but I'm fuckin' starving."

"Same," you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. "I'll go wash up, you sort food? Are places still open for delivery?"

Checking his phone for the time, Jungkook is surprised that it's closer to midnight than it is to his morning alarm. Only a handful of places will offer delivery at this time, but that's enough.

"Works for me," he says with a yawn, then opens what you had assumed was the closet door. Reveals an en-suite and knocks his head to the side. "Get your shower. Gimmie a shout if you need anything."

Tiles large and grey, it's the perfect counterpart to his bedroom. A little dark, but it's only because Jungkook hates using the big light. Always flicks the small light switches instead. There's a window overlooking the city, and even though you're only seven floors up, the hills of Yongsan-gu mean that he's got a view you could only dream of.

You're about to start the shower up when he calls through. "Is pizza good?"

"Pizza's good," you call back with a smile. Look yourself in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you ended up in the bathroom of arguably the most famous person you've ever met. Decide it's better not to question it.

The shower begins to cascade down, even if your sins are washed way, you know you won't be able to forget the feeling of Jungkook so easily.

Truth be told, you won't even try.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:13

"L in the chat," booms the voice of Taehyung through your laptop speakers. His trademark grin rests on his face as he teases Jungkook.

You've only just opened the stream. Instantly, you focus on the prettily lopsided smirk of Jungkook's lips. You've learned it's an almost permanent fixture on his boyish face. Shaking his head, he's adjusting his headset. Making it a little looser so that it'll fit him properly.

No one is questioning it.

What they are questioning, is where the fuck that pretty purple bruise on his neck has come from.

"Cross-fit," Jungkook just shrugs, knowing that it's the colloquial term for suspicious bruises after some idol used the same excuse. Blatant horseshit. Jungkook doesn't care.

"I've never done cross-fit, but I know you're bullshitting," Taehyung snorts.

The chat seems to agree with him.

"Thought I was a virgin?" Jungkook states a little cheekily, making reference to Taehyung's usual banter. "How else would I get one?"

Taehyung knows better than the retort. Knows that Jungkook could very easily slip something about Rae into the conversation.

Virgin? You type through a message on a private discord chat with Jungkook. He'd set it up the day before. Has already sent you, like, a thousand messages. Is what can only be described as obsessed—but it's mutual. Could have fooled me.

As his eyes glance down to his laptop screen, he fails to hide his smile. Had opened your chat on there, cause he didn't wanna accidentally broadcast the messages onto his stream. Despite this, he doesn't care that there are nearly 10,000 people in his stream merely minutes into it. Is far more interested in his chat thread with you. Replies immediately.

Stop distracting meI'm working</3

Giggling as the message pings through to you, there's a giddy quality to the way Jungkook makes you feel.

He'd spent the day in bed with you after your night together. Had wanted you to stay when he started streaming that evening. Said he'd only be an hour or so, and was incredibly pouty when you did leave.

It had just been him on last night's stream—headset off 'cause he didn't wanna adjust it back yet, hoodie on to hide his neck. The other boys were nursing hangovers, so he could do what he liked.

What he did do had you incredibly curious. Was just chatting. Talking to the comment section. Sleepily reeling off facts he'd recently learned about butterflies. Debating over their lifespan.

You're not naive to the fact that Jungkook does this streaming stuff as a profession, and are aware that the more people talking about his stream on other platforms, the more viewers he'll get.

Made sense for him to add fuel to the butterfly-related fire by talking about them.

Had sent you a message earlier that evening to ask what kind of butterfly you had on your skin.

A Monarch, you'd told him.

"See, the thing is," Jungkook had rambled to his viewers a little later on. "Most butterflies have super short lifespans—Monarch's included."

Eyes all starry, lights in his bedroom purple as per usual, he'd looked cosy. You wished you'd have stayed.

"But there's a specific kind. Migrating Monarchs. They're the last of their generation—the final butterflies of the year," he marvelled at the magic of it all.

His facts were a little hazy, but he knew enough. Had been down a you-shaped rabbit hole all afternoon.

"And they migrate, right? Move away from home—somewhere warmer—and then it just extends their lifespan. 180 days. Not 30. That's six months. Six months. It's a long time. It's not fleeting. Not in the slightest."

It's also, curiously, exactly how long you're scheduled to stay in Korea for.

"I dunno," Jungkook had just sighed, a little forlorn, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

He bit down on his bottom lip, stroking his thumb against the hard plastic ears of his headset, then focused on the camera again. Wondered if you were watching. 

He simply shrugged. Said, "Counts for something, though, right?"

[radiance1]

Inspired by @puppetmaster13u and various dragon aus they have.

BUT! This is also a bit of a fantasy/DnD au I guess...? IDK BUT HERE WE GO-

Okay now so, I'm imagining that that Danny, Tucker, and Sam create a pocket dimension for their game via the use of reality warping (via scepter) and something given to them by Pariah Dark before he went off on that whole honey moon thing with Clockwork.

For the record, Danny isn't the ghost king here, Pariah Dark is he's just the prince.

Sam created a garden from the barren earth, that eventually grew into a great forest and spread out to the rest of the world, which technically made her the creator of life but anyways. So, she's holed up in said garden turned forest.

Tucker bestowed upon his subjects (after they were made of course) knowledge and technology and is regarded as the greatest teacher in that world's history.

Danny? Oh yea he became that one that giant dragon that everyone knows is there, is afraid of, and just sleeps all day in this one specific place. You'd have to cut him some slack though, because no one told him creating a world and its laws would be so hard even with help.

That and him, as the one with basically the most knowledge and resident fanboy of space, created the stars surrounding the place as well!

Of course, they couldn't stay there all of the time. What with work (Tucker), high-society (Sam), and studying (Why the heck did Danny decide to go to collage again?). That entire place was just made to play around in before they had to go their separate ways and be, you know, actual adults, so it was easy enough to let go of it really.

Except for Danny. Not of any great reason, really, he just needed someplace where he could quietly study in peace, nap, think or just get away from the Ghost Zone before he had to go through all that princely nonsense again. Plus, none of their creations in that pocket dimension really wanted to mess with the giant fuck off dragon who was said to created the place anyways.

For the record, Danny is more of an eastern dragon in design with a long body rather than western. So that probably just added more into his intimidation with his sheer length.

So, you know, of course he would have been none too pleased when someone actually did disturb his solitude (as stated by the dimension's residents) as soon as the world was thrown off-balance by an outside force.

Meanwhile, Klarion the Witch boy is having the time of his life coming across a whole world that somehow hasn't been affected by Order or Chaos. So he's capitalizing on that.

Then he came across a place that was said to be sacred, not that he cared, and then came across a boy who didn't look a day over his teens (which frankly doesn't say much in regards to immortals) with a frankly long tail that looked longer than he was tall and very majestic looking horns.

Danny was annoyed yet curious, Klarion was surprised yet delighted.

[strawbeerossi]

Only Friends

Pairing: Gender Neutral!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You and Spencer are best friends who act like anything but.

Content/Warnings: Oblivious mutual pining, kissing, lap sitting, teasing friends, cute little love confession at the end.

Word Count: 1.3K

Anon Request: hiii oki req (if u want pls take ur time) i think this is prob OOC butttttt spence + reader being in love and they don’t even realize it but they still kiss/ cuddle when they hang out and stuff and just say “we’re really close is all” “best friends kiss!” and stuff..

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @kr-1-sta @iluvreid @nervousmoongiver @multifandom-on-the-side @ferrjulie

Affection in friendships aren’t always the same. Some friends hugged, some friends rarely talked yet maintained a healthy friendship, some friends even showed the smallest bit of intimacy due to their comfortability.

You and Spencer were just a tad different. You two would cuddle, share brief pecks on the lips, as well as sometimes shower together whenever you were in a rush on a case and got a brief break.

It wasn’t anything inherently romantic or sexual, just something that came easy. The team was highly convinced you both had a secret relationship. Which was fair enough, however no matter how many explanations, they never seemed to be enough.

Tonight the team was having a small watch party for a new show at Penelope’s apartment. She’d been so desperate for the team to have something like a show they watched together, or special games to play together. Nobody could really say no.

You had arrived with a handful of snacks just an hour prior, helping one of your favorite coworkers set up her apartment for the night ahead. As expected, it turned from you helping to the bubbly blonde interrogating you over the aspect of a potential relationship.

“We aren’t dating, Pen.” Your head shook as you were filling a bowl with pretzels, taking it to the table in order to place it in the available space surrounded by other snacks. “I saw you guys kiss before you left the office yesterday! What kind of friends kiss each other on the lips?? If this is normal, we need to make Derek aware because I am missing out.” Penelope huffed out of frustration. “Mark my words, I will get to the bottom of this. When I find out that you are secretly dating, I will bring all of the hurt!” The blonde held up her fist while narrowing her eyes in your direction.

By the grace of all things holy, it wasn’t long until the team had slowly begun to show up. There were no more interrogations, not yet anyway. As everyone was piling up on the couch, there was very limited room for you as you walked out of the kitchen. “Fuck.” You groaned, arms crossed. “I am not sitting on the floor!”

“You can sit with me.” Spencer spoke up from his spot at the far end of the couch, his shoulders shrugging as his hand patted his thighs to offer you the spot in his lap. “Come on! This is a family friendly show! None of that.” Emily groaned, which had you rolling your eyes as you were heading over to sit yourself on your best friend’s lap.

“It’s not a big deal.” You protested her dramatics while your body was leaning into Spencer’s chest, your body snuggling closer to his as the show began at its scheduled time. However instead of enjoying the programme, you were too busy ignoring all the curious stares from your friends. “Come on!” You huffed while pushing yourself to sit up. “What is the big deal? You’re all staring like we are animals in a zoo.” In all honesty, you were annoyed with the way people stared. You were friends, doing platonic things.

“Look. Kid, I hate to say it but you two are definitely a little too close for what friends should be. What kind of friends do you know that kiss each other? And yes, I know, they are pecks. I’m just saying.” Derek put his hands up as he broke the silence.

“It’s not a crime to have a crush on one another or to date one another.” JJ added soon after while letting her shoulders shrug. “We aren’t dating though.” Spencer confirmed everything you’ve been preaching while looking at the group in confusion. “Spencer, you haven’t eaten any snacks tonight because all of our hands have been in the bowl. It makes no sense to me that you’d kiss her considering the mouth has like a bajillion germs.” Penelope added.

“Well, the mouth has over a billion different germs and we don’t know the exact amount.” He corrected as he looked up at you for help. “I assumed we were normal?” He spoke up while you nodded in agreement. “I thought we were, too.” You huffed while leaning against his chest.

“It’s not even the hugging, kissing, and lap sitting. You guys just look so head over heels from an outside perspective. I mean, you hang out together all the time, you always room together, plus you guys go out on dates. You may not look at it that way but come on. You are both profilers. How do you not pick up on how you feel about one another?” Emily asked while frowning softly.

The more they were talking and giving actual points, the more you were thinking over the course of your friendship with Spencer. You’d always been close, even after your first initial meeting when you joined the team. You could remember how shocked the team was because the typically quiet and socially awkward genius was the first one to welcome you. You’d managed to become close friends over the course of two weeks. The first time Spencer even hugged you was after a case where he’d been put in harm's way. He came to you for comfort. You.

The first time you started your pecks on the lips, it was due to a complete accident when you tried to kiss his cheek but his head turned to face you. It just seemed.. Right. No matter how flustered you both were or how you felt butterflies in your belly, you just dismissed it. You being lost in thought was concerning enough for Spencer. “Hey. Do you wanna step outside?” His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, your head nodding. “Yeah, please head out with me.”

He helped you to your feet before his hand was gently holding yours, leading you out of the room.

“How much do you wanna bet that they are gonna actually kiss out there?” Aaron spoke up after being silent a majority of the night, the team turning to the unit chief who normally wouldn’t have inserted himself. “I’ll take those odds,” Derek smirked while getting his wallet.

Out in the hallway, you had your arms crossed as you looked away from Spencer. “I know that we are best friends and I promise you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. I just really want you to tell me one thing,” You spoke while turning your head back to face him. “Did you ever, at any point, have feelings for me? Be honest.”

The words had Spencer’s face bright red, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve always thought you were amazing.” He spoke while offering a shy smile. “I just didn’t want things to get weird. I like our friendship and the relationship that we have isn’t something that could be ruined. Dating friends can get messy and.. I don’t wanna live a life without you in it. I can’t even fathom a reality where you aren’t here.” He responded.

“So you did?”

“Y-yeah. I just didn’t want-”

Your hands were gripping his upper arms while you were gently shaking him. “Why didn’t you say anything?!” You asked while staring at him with wide eyes. “I’ve always been fond of you!” You added, his surprised look making you laugh softly. “God. How are we profilers?”

“You know, I’m not so sure. I think we are rusty.” Spencer responded, a little chuckle leaving his lips. “So.. Is there a chance? You know.. Us?” He asked softly while you nodded. “I do think there’s a good chance.” You responded while Spencer sighed in relief. “So it won’t be weird if I do this.”

“Do what?”

His hands were gently cupping your cheeks, taking every opportunity to press his lips against yours, much different than you were both used to but it carried the same feeling as all the little pecks have all this time. It was right. Like you were meant to be together.

“I’m pretty sure they are running bets. Do we tell them we kissed or pretend like nothing happened?”

“I want Derek to lose his money in that scenario, so let’s not tell them yet.” Spencer chuckled.

[luvv4choso]

Herbalist!Reader X Sukuna

WARNINGS: SMUT, p in v, degrading, rough sex, sukuna being mean

a/n: this took so long to write 😭😭

synopsis: sukuna gives u a reward for healing him

divider creds: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

it was about 11pm at night, and you needed to grab a couple more herbs to complete a medicine order. the thing was, the order was due tomorrow morning, and you had procrastinated the whole day. so here you are, roaming around the forest scrummaging around bushes, and trees, basket in hand which a flashlight in the other.

you were peacefully looking through a patch of echinacea, when you suddenly heard someone grunting with pain. you were a little worried, nobody ever came into this area, especially at 11PM at night... you were also curious about the noise, wanting to find out the cause of it. what's the worst that could happen?

flashlight in your hand you try to find the source of the noise, which soon turned into heavy pants and footsteps. as you searched you heard footsteps approaching you, you hide behind a bush,you place a hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing. then you see a tall pink haired man who was clearly very beat up, cuts spotted all around his chest area. he also had very distinct black tattoos. even though you could barely see him under the moonlight, you couldn't deny that he was very attractive.

you felt an urge to get to know him, to be near him, to just be in his presence so you take a deep breath and approach the tall man. as you walk towards him, "excuse me!" you belt as you walk closer to the man. he turns around and looks down at you. gosh he was so tall. and the way he looked at you, his piercing dangerous gaze. "what?" he hisses, hand over his chest. there was blood all over his hand. you looked back up at him sympathetically "I noticed that you're injured, like really badly..." you pointed out "and I was wondering if you wanted to come back with me to my cottage so I could take care of your wounds?" you offer. oh the innocence in your eyes, the way you looked up at him, the kindness of your heart. sukuna was invested. he wanted to ruin all that kindness and Innocence in you. he found it so cute that you had no idea what you were about to drag yourself into.

sukuna smirks, he bends down to your level, he scoffs loudly "you think I would need your help? please.I think I can take care of myself." he mocks. his words make your heart ache, why was he so mean about it? but you weren't gonna give up now. he was going to be yours. "are you sure? you know you have a lot to say for a guy who's nearly bleeding out" you remark, crossing your arms in the process. "c'mon let me fix you up, unless it hurts your precious little ego-" you tease. sukuna glared at you dangerously "you better watch your mouth." he grunts, you smirk, "aw? did that hurt your feelings?" you mock him. "you know what? if it makes you shut up, fine then!" he snaps. sukuna was loving the little game you were playing with him. if anything it made him even more attracted to you.

"so your name's sukuna?" you repeat, as you begin to clean his wounds. "didn't I just say that?" he snaps back. "woah chill out" you mutter as you begin to open a jar of aloe vera gel. sukuna rolls his eyes and stares up at the wooden roof of your humble cottage. "this might sting so be prepared" you warn before spreading a thin layer on his wounds. sukuna hisses at the sharp burning sensation. he looked so hot when he felt pain. the way his eyebrows furrowed, and the sounds he made... you wanted him so badly. you close the jar tightly, "that should be it" you comment. sukuna sits up on the couch, as you stay sitting on the floor. now you could get what you really wanted this whole time. "you know I think I did a really good job" you praise yourself. sukuna smirks sharply "I guess you did..." he admits "don't you think I should get a little reward?..." you ask slyly, as you rise up from your knees. sukuna chuckles "oh and what would that reward be?"

SCHLAP. SCHLAP .SCHLAP."s-slow down sukuna!" you mewl, placing a hand near his hips to try to slow him down. sukuna chuckles and grabs both of your hands and pin them to your back. "what happened to wanting that reward huh? too much f' you to handle slut?" he whispers in your ear, his voice raspy and endearing. he slaps your ass as he mercilessly thrusts into you. your sweet moans echo throughout your small cottage, the sound of skin slapping harmonizes with your moans. "if you keep going like this, you'll get hurt again..." you warn him. he rolls his eyes "oh well, you'll just have to fix me up again, and we both know you would love that." he says coldly. he thrusts into you like he's running out of time. his second cock rubbing up against your clit giving you endless amounts of ecstasy.

"i-im so close" you whined, sukuna smirks and flips you around making you lay on your back this time. you whine at your denied orgasm, sukuna just laughs devilishly. "didn't think I would let you come so quickly did you? you thought I would forget about that attitude you gave me earlier? now come and take this cock like the filthy slut you are." he demands as he aligns his cock with your entrance. the way he degrades you just turns you one even more, your pussy getting wetter by the second. without warning he slams into your hole, his second cock now grinding on your puffy clit rapidly. sukuna pushes your legs all the way to your chest, so he could abuse the shit out of your cervix. the amount of pleasure you were receiving was both heavenly and painful. your eyes were filling with tears from all the sensations.

you once again attempt to slow him down by placing a hand on his chest. sukuna grabs both your hands and pins them above your head, he leans in to whisper in your ear "don't run away now, where was the filthy whore I met a while ago? I thought you wanted this as a reward? that's what I thought. now shut up and take this dick." he commands. oh the way he degraded you was so hot. he talked to you like you meant nothing to him. the pleasure you were getting made you shed tears. sukuna scoffs at the sight, despite absolutely loving seeing you with wet glossy eyes. "such a crybaby... be grateful I haven't put both my cocks in you, ungrateful whore" he comments as his thrusts get sloppier but the second, his pants getting raspier. your moans grow in volume, you were so fucked out.

"f-fuck m' so close sukuna!!" you exclaim, as you feel your orgasm approaching, sukuna grunts as he chases his own orgasm along with you. he leans in, whispering in your ear "you like it when I pound into you hm? you're so cock thirsty for me aren't you?" he grunts, "y-yes! sukuna!" you mewl, the sound of slapping skin quickens as you both reach your orgasms. you both let out deep groans, sukuna fills you up with his cum, a string connecting his dick to your cunt as he pulls out. as you try to sit back up, a hand pushes you back down.

"who said I was done?"

[lovelybrooke]

I imagine that Athena or Artemis would probably be the first of the gods to notice Zagreus's obsession with the player. Can I request what their dialogue would be like?

Below is how I think all the Gods would react to the player, listed in order of who figures it out the quickest.

Athena:

Of course, the Goddess of Wisdom, would notice her cousin's obsession first. She, and for the most part all of her family, are used to strange and extravagant displays of affections. It doesn't take a genius to figure out Zagreus has been pushing himself harder though the layers of hell and when gracing him with a boon, Athena comes to realize just how deep his obsession truly is.

Her dialogue doesn't directly address you like some of the others, but it's no less strange.

"Dear cousin, do you realize how risky your goal is? Once your father figures out, this won't end well. Regardless, perhaps this might help you in your task."

Artemis

Artemis is the Goddess of the Hunt, and so when Zagreus power and hunger for battle starts to surge, she notices right away. Though, Zagreus is hunting for something deeper, something far away, that not even she can trace. It entices her, and she can't help but grow a small interest in Zagreus's prey.

Her dialogue, like Athena, doesn't directly address the player, but instead Zagreus's obsession.

"Hmm--Zagreus, there is a hunger deep inside of you, I can feel it. It yearns for something greater. Greater than this hell you're trapped in, greater than Olympus, greater than yourself even. Maybe one day, this hunger will be quelled. Until then, here's something to hold you over.

Ares:

Like Artemis, the God of war is able to sense the bloodthirsty urge for battle growing inside Zagreus. At first, he simply believes it's due to his strength growing as he continues his attempts at escaping. It doesn't take him long to realize how deep, how primal, his cousin's urges are. Every time he strikes down an enemy, Ares is able to feel the darkness within Zagreus growing.

Ares is the first character to openly acknowledge the player, though it's subtle compared to some of the later characters.

"Zagreus, cousin. You are aware of this...feeling inside of you, what it is, right? I hope you know that if you choose to pursue this, your father will never approve. I, however, am rather interested in this endeavor and would like to see how it plays out. Here--take this, maybe it will be of use to you.

Hermes

If you ask Hermes, he swears he's been aware of the player the entire time. No one really knows the truth though, as he doesn't divulge information about you often, even to his ever-curious family. Hermes is a trickster by heart, and he takes great pleasure in asking Zagreus question after question about you, most of which Zagreus doesn't answer, for many reasons.

His dialogue is much more concerning, and it's most likely the first time you think there's something seriously wrong with the game.

"Hey coz, you think you're ever gonna reach them, this...person of yours. 'Cuz if you do, I would love to meet them as well! Thinking about it, it might just be easier to get to them myself. You wouldn't like it if I did, would you coz.

Zeus

The God of thunder obviously notices the shift in his children's behavior, though he's one of the later Gods to notice the players presence. This could be because of weak connection the Olympians have to Zagreus down in hell, but he doesn't mind. In fact, Zeus takes more of a supportive father like role when he comes to understand Zagreus's obsession.

His dialogue is strangely paternal, dark undertones seeping through every word.

"Dear Nephew, I have to say, you're proving steadfast in your devotion towards this unknown figure, it's comforting to see you so enamored with someone. I have to say, if you ever do find a way to bring them home, they would be swifty welcomed into Olympus along with you."

Poseidon

The God of the Ocean waste no time providing Zagreus help to get to you. Like his brother, he takes a fatherly outlook on Zagreus and his obsession. He doesn't see a thing wrong with encouraging his nephew's feelings, even if they're less than savory.

Poseidon's dialogue is similar to Zeus's, but heavier handed in its message.

"Come on, little Hades, escaping my brother's domain won't be that easy! You have to work harder than that if you want to reach your beloved. I know your father is probably less than pleased to hear about them, but don't worry, your better uncle will support you. Here--take this, it will surely aid you on your journey!"

Dionysus

The God of wine takes a while to notice the player, whether from his own ineptitude or drunkenness, no one knows. What they do know, is Dionysus loves to talk on and on about the player. Once he first takes notice you, he never shuts up about it. His siblings assume it's a product of drunken ramblings, but they couldn't be more wrong.

Honestly, his dialogue is the most unnerving, since he's talking to you, not Zagreus.

"Hey you. Y'know you don't have to hide behind the prince here, me and my family on Olympus will wholeheartedly except you. Just say the world and will find a way to get to you. Hey--hey! Zagreus, I was just kidding."

Aphrodite

Aphrodite finds out last because she isn't actually related to Zagreus, and so his connection to him is much weaker than the others. She probably finds out when Ares expresses his interest in you. Though when she does finally set her sights on you, she becomes enamored. Not just with you, but with the deep adoration Zagreus feels for you. It's a type of love so raw, that it could bring her to tears.

Her dialogue, like Dionysus, directly addresses the player, and it filled with sweet words that could quickly turn dark,

"Oh, you truly don't realize how enamored the little prince is for you. It's cute, really, sooner or later you're going to have some gods wrapped around your fingers as well if you're not careful. Oh--don't worry little godling, no one is going to take them away from you."

---

A/n: I know I didn't include Demeter, but I couldn't really think of anything for her since I still haven't gotten passed Hades second phase (I know, fake gamer alert). Anyway, I hope the dialogue is convincing, I really enjoy writing it. Please let me know if I forgot anyone.

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

could I request headcanons of uvo, chrollo, and phinks with a little sibling figure reader in the troupe and she’s ten years old maybe? :) platonic ofc . tysm and it’s ok if u can’t do this request ! (If three characters is too much just uvogin is ok ^_^)

Of course! I hope you enjoy!

Uvogin, Chrollo, and Phinks with a little sibling figure in the troupe

Warnings: none

Female! Reader

Uvo:

I know Uvo’s a violent man, but I feel like he would be the softest in the world with you, which is unusual because he helped kill an entire clan, including the children

-I mean first of all, he’s very impressed by the fact that your a ten year old and also in the freaking phantom troupe, with enough training you could even defeat him over time!

-He very quickly decides he’s gonna look out for you wether it be in training, missions, or just when your all hanging around waiting for orders

-Speaking of training, he wants to see you reach your full potential as soon as possible, so he spars with you often. He won’t go easy on you, but he won’t seriously injure you either, he’s very aware that your both physically smaller and more mentally immature than he is (at his old ass age) so he’s aware that he has an advantage when it comes to fighting

-You learn a lot from fighting him though, he may make harmless taunts every now and then but he gives very constructive criticism and it does help improve your fighting skills significantly, perks of sparring with one of the strongest troupe members I guess

-He play whatever games you want in during times when there’s nothing to do, especially when your on guard duty with nothing to entertain you. He makes a surprisingly good playmate (he’ll let you play with his hair too)

-He keeps an eye on you during missions, but he’s well aware you can hold your own, you wouldn’t be in the troupe otherwise. That being said, if something gets serious enough (like Kurapika’s case for example) then he won’t hesitate to defend you with his life. There’s not a lot of people he’s willing to die for, but you’re one of them

-I kinda see him like a cool uncle more then a brother, idk why but he just gives off those vibes

Chrollo:

-I think Chrollo’s quite fond of children personally, he’ll still kill them if their in the way of achieving a goal but I don’t think he enjoys it and he also wouldn’t kill a child for no reason like he would an adult

-He’s very impressed by your power level, your a very useful addition to the troupe and he plans on utilizing that as much as possible

-But he does genuinely come to care for you later on though, that’s not surprising considering how the troupes practically family anyways

-He let’s you sit with him during meetings if you want, your also the only troupe member that’s allowed to touch him without explicit permission beforehand

-He doesn’t involve himself too much with you, but he does keep an eye on you more than he does the others, you may be powerful but your still young, it’s not easy living this kinda life at your age

-He’s the one to introduce you to the troupe and he’s also the one to make sure you get acquainted with the troupe without any issue, he can and will threaten any troupe member that is too unkind to you

-Like Uvo, he’s not concerned about you during missions, he’s very well aware of your powers, he’s probably the most familiar with them out of all the troupe members since he had to recruit you

-I honestly can’t see him treating you too differently from the other troupe members, your tough, you have incredible potential, he doesn’t see the need to coddle you like some of the other members might

Phinks:

-He’s skeptical if you at first, why did Chrollo choose you of all people? The troupe is no place for a child as young as you

-After seeing you fight for the first time though he’s immediately like “damn maybe she does belong in here” and now he’s curious as to how you turned out this way in the first place

-Phinks doesn’t approach you right away, he ops to observe you from afar for awhile, but the longer your in the troupe the more you inevitably interact

-For some reason, the two of you are put on missions often, so you grow very attached to him and he’s very confused about it. He has no idea why you cling to him specifically but he gets used to it after some time

-He’s definitely the most protective of you out of the group, he’ll never let you know how much you’ve grown on him but he makes sure nobody bothers you

-Especially on missions, in theory he knows you can hold your own but when your actually fighting and in danger he tries to do the bulk of the fighting no matter how much you protest

-He’s afraid to train with you because he fears he might hurt you, he’s a tough dude who doesn’t hold back when fighting so he’s not sure how well he could hold his strength against you

-He’ll “begrudgingly” (not really tho) play games with you if you ask him nice enough, but he’ll make lighthearted complaints the entire time

-Fears that your gonna die during your time in the troupe, it’s a very dangerous job and your super young compared to most of the guys they fight

-We have a tsundere older brother over here everyone lol

[onlyswan]

summary: in which alcohol plus k-drama is equals to your and jungkook’s tears.

> fluff / wc: 4k

> warnings: oc’s first attempt at becoming a pro bartender lmao they both drink alcohol!!, alchemy of souls spoilers!! (they watch the ending of part 2), mention of a stab and blood, they cry over character deaths together >:( (sike?) maybeee a little surprise bc jk is so in love y’all idk what else to say </3 💍

note: welcome to the result of my jungkook + aos brainrot. you can read more of inwhich!jk in glasses in this drabble. :D thank you anonie who sent this ask! + as always i’d appreciate it a lot if you lmk if you enjoyed mwamwa <3

—

“i miss my boyfriend.” you sigh dramatically as you slump over the dining table, popping a vodka-soaked cherry in your mouth.

despite being hopelessly in love, you and jungkook don’t necessarily feel obliged to spend every second of every day with each other. of course, it was different at the early stages of your relationship, when you had to cross oceans and move mountains to spend time together, even if it meant hugging for only ten minutes and parting ways again.

however, things changed when you started living under one roof. the burning passion of your love isn’t dying down, no. in fact, you would go as far as saying that it is growing more gracefully ardent. after all, there is no greater peace than knowing that at the end of the day, wherever the street signs and the unmarked paths may lead you to, you and jungkook choose to come home to each other’s arms. is this not the real honeymoon phase, as they like to call it?

he left early this sunday morning to attend a small reunion with his childhood friends in busan, while you spent the day reading a book and painting the numbers one to ten of the little paint by numbers kit you stumbled upon at the book store last week.

it’s a sunny day on an abundant island, with a lighthouse standing close to the edge. and maybe, just maybe, you regret ignoring the simple flower bouquet beside it because the details drawn on this canvas are the literal definition of tiny. you ended up feeling dizzy by afternoon because of the strain it caused to your fucked up vision.

to make matters worse, the doorbell rung at around 5pm, and a minute later you were already unboxing the basics cocktail set you ordered two days ago. it includes a 18- and 28-ounce shaker set, jigger that has a dual-side (ounce and two-ounce) pourers, strainer, muddler, and bar spoon.

to summarize what you’ve been doing with your life lately: you’re trying to explore the random things you’ve always been curious about, in hopes that they’ll help you find new hobbies and interests.

you thought about baking, but jungkook already does that, and quite frankly, you’re not at a place in your life where you have a high capacity for the patience it requires. mixing drinks, on the other hand, takes a relatively shorter time to do. and what makes it even more enticing is that you can take a shot whenever you mess up, as if you’re playing a drinking game.

there’s no better way to spend your sunday evening, right?

“baby, why the hell are all the alcohol outside of the cabinets?”

right… except you’re already intoxicated… and the world is spinning. you’re desperately yearning to hug jungkook, so he can make it stop, but you’re not even sure if he’s coming home or he’s staying over at his parent’s house for the night.

you react belatedly to the confused voice, lifting your head to squint at the man who grabbed a bottle of white wine from the cluttered countertop.

“hey, who are you? the bar is closed. put that down.”

he laughs lightheartedly when he realizes how drunk you’ve gotten. as he places it back down, the bottle clinks against the cold white stone. your heavy head collapses on top of your outstretched arm as he walks towards the opposite side of the dining table.

you open your eyes, one before the other, when you feel a presence hogging your space. a sheepish smile curves your lips as the beautiful face of your dear beloved greets you.

jungkook’s prescription glasses moves with his scrunched up nose as he grins at you playfully. “it’s the boyfriend you said you were missing.”

you reach out for him as soon as he finishes saying the sentence, silently asking to be embraced. slaves to your touch — his hands, which are resting on the sharp edge of the table and the top rail of your chair, eagerly slip down to encircle your waist.

you lazily lean your cheek on his shoulder, revelling in his welcoming body warmth. “why are you back early? aren’t you tired? you should’ve just rested at your house.”

“mhmm, i had to.” he hums, deep and raspy voice making his chest vibrate against yours. “we talked about marriage and all that jazz. i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

with an airy huff, you pull away to glare up at him childishly. “i sure hope you’re not thinking about anybody else.”

he runs his tongue across his lips, unconsciously tugging at the silver lip ring with his teeth, but his loving smile stays. “you know that you’re the only one for me.”

“still! i like to hear it from you sometimes.” you giggle before taking a sip from a cold glass of cherry limeade, a refreshing treat you’ve been enjoying since before he arrived.

“vodka?”

“vodka.”

you swallow once more before handing him the glass, swaying your feet under the table as the delicious mixture of sweet and tart permeates your tongue.

“mhmm, wow!” he exclaims after taking a sip, tilting the glass a little bit to the side to look at the light red beverage with knitted eyebrows. “wait a minute- why is this so good?!”

you excitedly tug at the hem of his sweatshirt, begging for more pats on the head. “i had a lot of fun using the shaker.”

he lightly kicks out the chair to your right so he can take a seat, shrugging off the backpack full of clean clothes you packed for him last night incase he wanted to stay longer in busan.

“i did well with this one, right?”

he enthusiastically nods in response as he takes another gulp, chewing on the block of ice that also managed to slip inside his mouth. you melt into his affectionate touch when he cups your cheek with his delicate palm.

“maybe making drinks has been your specialty all along.”

you frown in disagreement. “i’m not sure. i made bloody mary before that one and i don’t know if i did something horribly wrong or it’s just supposed to taste that disgusting.”

amused laughter racks his body as he takes in the endearing sight of your genuinely downcast expression. you jut out your bottom lip in annoyance.

“it really tasted like poison! i got goosebumps!”

“shit, now i’m scared of you actually getting alcohol poisoning.” the back of your hand is rewarded with a sweet kiss by jungkook’s vodka-stained lips. the wide doe eyes behind his glasses meet yours curiously. “your hand smells like coffee.”

“oh- oh! the dalgona martini!” you rip your hand away from his to point at the martini glass standing at the very center of the dining table. “i just finished that. it should still be cold.”

he carefully slides the glass towards him to avoid spillage, fascinated lips forming a pout as he observes the thick portion of dalgona sitting on top of the mixed baileys and vodka. he didn’t even notice it at all because it’s almost the same color as the wood. has his vision gotten that bad?

“this looks yummy. you haven’t tried it yet?”

you shake your head, which you instantly regret because your vision blacks out momentarily. you swallow thickly as you attempt to blink away the shiny, swirly shapes dancing infront of your eyes.

“fuck, no. i already had classic martini, and mule. i’ll throw up.”

“jesus christ, baby. how many drinks did you try making?” jungkook finds himself so worried that he harshly takes off his glasses without reason, putting it aside on the table.

you giggle loudly at his reaction, using your folded arms as a pillow. “that’s all! i promise! besides, didn’t you drink with your friends, too?”

his face glows with uncontainable fondness at the mention of his friends.

“i was talking and laughing the whole time that i didn’t even finish half of my beer.”

your hazy eyes study his jovial and carefree features, and just like magic, they make your heart feel lighter inside your chest. heavens know that you wish for nothing more in the world than to see him this happy everyday.

“i’m so glad you had a great time, my love.”

“me too. i’ll tell you all about it when you’re sober and capable of memory retention.” he pokes fun at your drunken state as he picks up the glass of dalgona martini.

you roll your eyes before impatiently guiding the drink to his mouth. “just drink it already.”

“oing?” he blinks in disbelief, sipping on the glass again as if his tongue could’ve possibly fooled him the first time. ”i actually like this one more. i didn’t expect that.”

you abruptly perk up in your seat upon witnessing his candid review. “what? you’re joking!”

of course… you’re cursed. it had to be the one you hated making the most.

truth be told, you impulsively made the dalgona martini simply because it’s the only drink in the last online blog you found that you had the complete ingredients for.

you were obviously not prepared enough for this activity. but baileys, vodka, sugar, coffee, and water? yeah, any house would definitely have those.

then came your ridiculous dilemma: despite being intoxicated, you’re still terrified of using the electric whisker. and so, you had to do the whisking the hard way. to put it lightly, it was absolute hell. your arms and wrists are sore after shaking and whisking vigorously for the past three hours.

“it’s exactly what i needed after a long trip.” he moans. his shoulders spring up in delight as he licks off the foam around his lips, and you use your thumb to brush it away from the spots he missed.

jungkook grabs your hand before you could pull away, making you audibly gasp when he sucks at your thumb in his cold mouth. his insatiable tongue pokes the inside of his cheek after.

“uh- i think i tasted a hint of soap.”

“‘course you did. i just washed the dishes, you dummy.”

his pink lips part open as he processes your words, but he quickly brushes it off with a shrug. he noisily takes another sip from the glass.

“i can just clean it off my tongue with more martini.” he argues with a dimpled grin.

he grants you with a quick kiss, smudging the foam on his lips and transferring some of it to yours.

“ugh, you’re so sloppy!”

his laughter echoes in your home as he walks away. “i’m taking this with me to the bathtub!”

“don’t take an hour in there again.” you grumble out a complaint. “we need to watch alchemy of souls!”

—

“even if you decide to seal that door, i know how heartbreaking it will be for you, so it does not upset me so much.”

the flashback from four episodes ago confirms that it was foreshadowing this moment — park jin had sealed the door of jinyowon, a deep cave where relics are protected so they won’t unleash life-threatening dangers upon the world outside. lady jin and maidservant kim are stuck inside the collapsing sanctuary, holding back said relics from escaping… and the latter is none other than his wife-to-be.

jungkook anxiously bites the nails of his thumb and pinky finger, switching back and forth. the television screen reflects on the lens of his glasses as his eyes become shiny with tears.

“is this really the final episode? there’s no season three?”

“no, it ends tonight.” you reply in between embarrassing loud sobs, attention trained to the man mournfully calling out his lover’s name over and over again as he clutches her engagement ring to his chest.

the hot tears you fail to catch stream down to your temples, and then your boyfriend’s naked stomach. you’ve comfortably settled on the bed after finishing your nightly routines. your head is lying by the bottom of his ribcage, and that’s where the other edge of the cozy blanket enveloping the two of you rests. you grabbed a small portion of the cotton in a loose fist, and you’ve been keeping it close to wipe your tears with.

“oh my god, i can’t fucking do this. my head is being split open.”

you toss aside the remote control after pausing the episode, crawling to the nightstand to pop the painkiller in your mouth, which you prepared to be supposedly taken tomorrow morning. maybe you’ve sobered up a little, but the combination of the alcohol and the woeful crying have resulted to an agonizing migraine.

with his long and slender fingers, your boyfriend removes the hair that stuck to your tear-stained face before tenderly wiping your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“making my baby fucking cry, too. i need that son of a bitch jin mu to burn in hell.” he curses to release his pent-up anger from the past 29 episodes, referring to the main antagonist of the series. the harshness of his tone contrasts the gentle kiss that lingers at the corner of your lips.

after drinking water, you wipe away jungkook’s tears with tissue paper, gingerly dabbing at the sides of his nose as well. he has a very sensitive skin, and because tears do contain salt, they can cause slight irritation and stinging when he cries. it’s something he once quietly complained about in passing, but somehow, it stuck with you throughout the years.

“does it hurt a lot?” he worriedly caresses the back of your head.

you meekly nod in response.

“should we just watch the rest of it tomorrow then?”

“noooo.” you drag out the word, shifting on the bed to return to your previous position. “my pain is nothing to compared park jin’s pain. i must persevere.”

and just like that, your tired eyes begin to water again. jungkook chuckles, affectionately holding your face in his hands. he isn’t surprised to find your skin to be warmer than normal.

“aigoo, your eyes are so red. at least put your glasses back on.”

“fine.” you mumble in defeat as you pat around the mattress, looking for the glasses you haphazardly threw aside when your intense emotions started to take control over you.

his rosy cheeks rise like buns in an oven as he smiles. “i love it when we match.”

—

park jin stands before the greedy individuals who conspired to steal the foundation of jinyowon, the fire bird, which dries up the world when it is awakened. it will be used in a rain ritual to create another ice stone, a ball of energy similar to that of the sun or a star. and to point out the obvious, having it in your possession would mean becoming the most powerful being there is.

“evil always does what it wants without ever stopping. but why is it that virtue always needs to prove itself over and over again?”

“…yes. i do wish to save her. i would do anything to save her, even if it meant i would lose my sanity. but even so, i will stop you from getting what you want. not a single one of you has the right to laugh at me… and call me… a hypocrite.”

you feel jungkook shiver below you. he is immensely engrossed with the actor’s phenomenal performance, flawlessly depicting what ‘seething’ anger means. he puts his tattooed arm underneath his head to get a closer view of the subtitles. these have to be some of the best written lines he’s heard from this show so far, and he hopes to remember them by heart.

the two of you watched with bated breath when he starts fighting against several warriors, and then it happens… jin mu removes the barrier of the fire bird as a threat.

“oh, fuck you!” you kick your feet in annoyance.

park jin is forced to focus his energy on re-sealing the fire bird, leaving him vulnerable to the attacks of his merciless opponents.

“no, no, no.” jungkook chants under his breath, heart thundering with fear. “this can’t be happening.”

you know what is bound to happen. they did show three coffins at the end of episode nine. but denial denial denial is a stage of grief after all, and so, with a broken sob, you squeeze your eyes shut.

when your eyelids flutter open, a sword has already been driven through the center of his chest, and dark red blood uncontrollably spills from his mouth. jin mu spitefully pulls it out from behind before he weakly falls on the ground. jungkook stays quiet, it happens so fast but he feels suspended in time, while your horrified crying carries on.

you unwillingly remove your head from his chest before you can cry a river over his shirtless torso, opting to sit up beside him.

“bunch of cowards.” he couldn’t resist mocking as the group scrambles to leave the place before it completely burns down, jin mu taking re-sealed fire bird along with them.

park jin jolts awakes coughing up blood. he painfully forces himself to lie on his back, and the camera reveals that he’s been holding maidservant kim’s ring all along. with trembling hands, he puts the ring on himself. you cover your own mouth as you listen to his worn out sobs.

a look of love and admiration shines on his dull eyes, and you swear that he smiles softly, before his arms fall limp on the dusty ground.

is the moon watching? and the stars? have they ever witnessed something so gutwrenchingly tragic?

“he wore the ring on his pinky! and it didn’t even fit halfway!” your glasses is left abandoned beside you again as you finally allow yourself to weep freely.

seeing that you clearly need a break after that heartbreaking scene, jungkook pauses the episode.

“that’s so cute, but-” you hiccup. “this is so unfair. they were supposed to get married and have babies!”

“oh, baby. i know.” he coos softly, hugging your side and peppering your cheek with kisses. his own tears drip from his chin and he brushes them away with the back of his hand. “their souls will be together in after life though, don’t you think?”

you gradually grow quiet and calm at the thought he proposed, but- “i don’t think they can make babies there.”

“shit.” he chuckles as his forehead lands over your shoulder, glasses slightly sliding down his nosebridge. “you’re right.”

“this is too much. i can’t-” you blow your nose in sheets of tissue paper before throwing them in the bin you dragged next to the bed earlier. “it hurts so much. they just wanted a peaceful life together.”

the two of you grieve for the what if’s and what could’ve been’s. he can’t possibly think of anything more tragic than being forced in a position to choose between the love of your life and the humanity; only to end up perishing at the hands of the evil who made you do it.

and what did he have left? a lifetime’s worth of love to take with him to the grave, and whatever’s left of his pride and dignity? jungkook wouldn’t want any of those. he only wants you.

he lifts up his head, a small smile playing on his lips, swollen and cherry-colored from the nervous nibbles of his bunny teeth. “we’re crying like this and they’re not even the main characters.”

“need to sue the writers for emotional damages.” you groan, tense muscles slowly relaxing in your boyfriend’s embrace. “how many minutes left?”

“40 minutes.”

“i can’t even open my eyes anymore. sorry, babe. my head-”

it’s almost as if it’s been dunked underwater. the throbbing pain spreads numbing pressure from your temples to the back of your head.

“i told you we can finish it tomorrow. it’s fine.”

jungkook briefly leaves your side. the television screen turns black after he pulls out the plug. he throws away the crumpled tissue papers, and then he places your glasses on the safety of the nightstand.

“how cute… don’t fall asleep on me yet.” he fondly coos at your half-asleep figure. “you’re dehydrated. drink some water first.”

a straw pokes your lips. with your eyes shut closed, you hold onto his wrist to steady the tumbler as you take a long sip. by the time you let go, the water has reached the line indicating that there’s only three quarters of it left.

you softly fall back on your pillow with a ‘thump’, turning your back on him to face his empty side of the bed. he also drinks his share of the water before filling in the blank beside you.

he hums in acknowledgement when you pull at his arm to make it your personal pillow, leaving his own glasses on the nightstand as well before facing you.

you give him a small hazy smile, threading your fingers through his soft and luscious hair. “love your pretty and healthy hair.”

“i love you.” he whispers like a confession as he strokes the back of your head. “close your eyes now.”

“i love you, too.” with a peaceful sigh, you nuzzle your face against his chest. “jungkook?”

“hmmm?”

“were you happy today?”

a lump grows in his throat, bigger than the one he felt when he was browsing through engagement rings online. emerald cut, cushion cut, round cut. sapphire, ruby, diamond. size 4, 4.5, 5, 5.5, 6, 6.5… he was hanging on the thin line that separated excitement and anxiety. the two-hour train ride passed by like a radio song he didn’t pay attention to. but you don’t need to know about that. not right now.

he swallows it down, embracing you tighter. “i still am… happy. if i delete those scenes from my memory.”

“me too.” you mumble before succumbing to the void of darkness beneath your heavy eyelids.

—

between the alcohol and the coffee that he simultaneously drank, it looks like the latter won the upper hand. more than twenty minutes later, jungkook is still wide awake, overcome by his clamorous thoughts. the conversations he had with his friends echo in his mind, and he paces back and forth between your shared past and future. the future… there is no future if there is no you.

he closes his eyes, instructing himself to focus on the steady rise and fall of your chest instead of the things he cannot control.

he kisses the top of your head. “i love you so much.”

however, he won’t be able to sleep peacefully until he learns what happens next. he needs the closure because he would truly despise having a bad dream about them. after all, they didn’t show maidservant kim dying. there is a glowing firefly of hope he’s been enchanted to follow into the abyss of the night.

with careful movements, he wears his glasses and his wireless earbuds. he holds his phone using the arm you’re lying on, while his hand under the blanket absentmindedly rubs your back, palm smoothly running up and down the expanse of your skin.

his jaw slacks open only three minutes after he picked up where you left off. jang uk, the male lead of the show, reveals to those grieving infront of the three empty coffins that their loved ones did not pass away.

the following scene unveils park jin, alive yet unconscious on a bed, and maidservant kim who is holding his ring-clad hand, weeping for the traumatic night the two of them suffered.

jungkook chuckles in great relief, blinking away the tears from his glassy eyes.

“fuck, they’re alive.”

—

“fuck, they’re alive!” you almost choke on the haejangguk, a hangover soup, that you started to heartily eat not even two minutes ago. “i almost died crying last night and it turns out that they lied to me?!”

jungkook chooses to feign ignorance. he innocently watches the screen with his wide doe eyes, bunny teeth biting at the rim of his glass of white milk.

“wow, i’m speechless.“ he squeaks out. “how did they even get rescued?”

—

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[neuroprincess]

Law & Order: SVU - First Date + First Kiss (Preferences)

Classification: Fluff

Pairing: Alex Cabot, Casey Novak, Liz Donnelly, Olivia Benson and Rita Calhoun

Warnings: None

Word count: +1000

Alex Cabot

- The blonde quickly pulls herself together, trying to mask the confusion of feelings and the shock of seeing you after so many years without any contact, failing miserably. She feels a little lost, not knowing how to act, slightly out of it. And continues like this for the next few weeks, even showing up almost every day at the bakery until finally getting up the courage to ask you out to dinner. It's a fancy restaurant, at a table away from curious eyes and the atmosphere is pleasant, you talk about your lives so far, between laughs, wine and an occasional physical touch, like hands accidentally crossing, her touch on your back as you get up from the chair, pinky fingers so close as you walk along the sidewalk that one can feel the warmth of the other. Alex insists on taking you home, you stop in front of the apartment door and both smile nervously. "I missed you." She whispers, tucking a stubborn lock of hair behind your ear. "No more than I missed you." You stare at each other for a few seconds and ADA leans in, asking permission with her gaze to continue, then you nod, joining your lips in a gentle and needy kiss, full of emotion, longing. 

Casey Novak

- It was no surprise when, in the middle of dinner, Casey's phone rang and she was forced to run after some judge to get warrants, she had barely touched the food, nor had you, both immersed in a fun and spontaneous flirting. The following week she's waiting for you in the lobby of the precinct with a box of your favorite dessert, which was mentioned at dinner, and a mysterious proposal. She takes you for a apparently directionless walk until ending up at a softball practice cage, no one else there, all the equipment waiting. Her words are patient, hands soft around your waist, body warm and slightly sweaty behind yours as her fingers wander up the forearm to put hands together and teach you how to use the bat, it's almost too much, all the sensations and little things the ginger provokes without even realizing it. "Good shot, sugar." She celebrates happily when you hit one target, proud of the result of hard work, and lifts you, twirling in the air, faces coming closer and you kiss as if it were the right thing to do, it's deep and passionate, all the tension built up over weeks expressed in one act. 

Liz Donnelly

- Another night spent working late, it's become a kind of routine you've started to get used to. Long nights full of paperwork, words that start to blur together in a few hours and a dozen cups of coffee, sometimes energy drinks. The last folder has been checked and the notes reviewed, when the knock on the door wakes you up, surprised, as the building seemed empty except for the security team. "You know it's 1am, right?" Liz smiles, entering your office, a bottle of whisky and two glasses in hand "I thought you might need these." And offers one of them, a little fuller because she knows it's necessary. Hours pass without either of you noticing, the bottle is half full and you're both on the floor, high heels thrown on the carpet, messy hairstyles and trivial conversations. "So, Cabot and you...?" She asks suggestively. "Oh, no, no, actually... she's my sister." The woman is clearly surprised, you expect some kind of negativity, maybe a little suspicion, but she just smiles and approaches. "Great!" Closing the distance with a half-drunk, slow and sensual kiss. 

Olivia Benson  

- Board game days become a bi-weekly program between you, the two families start to meet often and a bond quickly forms, not unexpected considering how close your children are, like flesh and blood. The kids have fun in friendly competitions and eat snacks, sometimes preferring to play in the garden or watch random cartoons until they fall asleep. This time it's different, the pair went to a sleepover, you opened a bottle of wine, sipping it between relaxed conversations, a nice meal and close to midnight you're still awake. "Finally some time for the moms." She raises her glass and knocks on yours to toast the break, you both love your children, but they seem to be plugged in 24/7. "And without having to watch Trolls, I've memorized all the songs." You mumble, drinking the rest of the wine and snuggling up on the sofa, the woman unconsciously rests her arm on the headboard, touching your shoulder, both smile and try to pay attention to The Golden Girls. Almost impossible to do when long fingers wander over your bare skin, the genuine laughter and the magnetism that leads you to stare at her, enchanted. Eyes meet, breaths become heavy and you stop fighting the urge to finally kiss Olivia. 

Rita Calhoun

- Her presence is very pleasant, bringing some kind of comfort to your tiring work days and boring shifts, there are delightful conversations when the restaurant is almost empty, occasionally she even makes a witty joke. As a result, you've become good friends, despite all the differences, from personality, age to social class. Bonds are created in the small details, maybe in the kind and gentle way she treats you, how she pays attention to the almost insignificant things you've left hanging in the air during a conversation, proof of which is the limited edition of your favorite book she brings to one of the dinners. Inside is a card with an address, a time and telling you to meet her there. So you do, wearing one of your favorite outfits and silently praying to be appropriate, in the end it doesn't matter much, she has prepared a candlelit dinner in the botanical garden, just you two, the nature and the stars. "I really enjoyed our night, it was lovely." You whisper and play nervously with the hands. "And what about me?" Rita teases, stopping walking, and you blush nodding positively. She tries to say something more, but is interrupted by your lips on hers in a clumsy impulse, there's a doubt in the air, answered by her hands on your waist pulling you in to deepen the passionate kiss.

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[caelivir]

secrets kept between stars | orter madl

— synopsis. in which orter madl tries to understand you

— pairing. orter madl x gn visionary reader

— genres. fluff, some angst, a little comfort, orter in major denial

— warnings. implied child abuse on reader but there are no descriptions.

— word count. 4.7k

— notes. markus is a made up character. i am reposting this… enjoy!

“Hey Orter!” You call over the wind that beats down at your face. It sends goosebumps throughout your entire body, but there’s no time to worry about it. You were soaring in the sky, riding the broom that you mastered years ago, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“What is it?” Orter responds, although barely audible. The wind drowns him out, and he refuses to yell.

“Let’s make a bet,” You suggest, a mischievous smile donning your features. Orter doesn’t even attempt to hide the scowl and glare directed towards you as you spoke those words. His reaction makes you grin wider.

The Desert Cane brings his face back to front, as if to focus on what’s ahead (and not the idiot to the right of him). “Now’s not the time for your games, (Y/N), especially now.”

The only reason Orter has to put up with you and your antics is because of the attack coordinated by the Madjinn. If he wanted to, he would have handled the Madjinn by himself, no sweat. But direct orders from Wahlberg say otherwise, and who would dare cross him?

“Come on,” You pout, clearly disregarding his opinions. “Let’s raise the stakes a bit.”

“The stakes are high enough.”

You pause for a moment. The gears in your head running at a hundred miles per hour to figure out how you can rope him into your offer. The two of you are about to drop in on perhaps the most destructive creatures of your world, and yet, you don’t seem to be bothered by the fact. That’s why Orter can not work with you. You’re too carefree, too busy chasing the thrills provided by this magic filled world. It makes him wonder why the hell you even became a Visionary if you weren’t going to take it seriously.

No matter how many hours he spent trying to grasp the reasons behind all of your brazen thoughts and actions, he came up with an answer that would equate to a grand total of nothing. That was the other problem with you. You are complex beyond his understanding.

“How about this?” You start, preparing to share your suggestion with him. “A simple competition.”

Orter stares distantly, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t a bit curious about what you were about to offer.

A proud smirk glazes over your face. “I bet that I can defeat more Madjinn than you. If I’m right, you owe me a favor, and vice versa.”

Now that is loaded. You’re strong. Orter is not denying that. If you weren’t then it just wouldn’t be logical for you to be a Divine Visionary. But to imply that you could do better than him does not sit soundly with him.

“So Madl, what’s it going to be?” You cock your head to the side, throwing a glance his way, taking in his stone-cold expression. He slides the frames of his round glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You’re plotting something. You always are. Orter knows better than to fall for your tricks.

He gives in.

“Suit yourself.”

You flash a smile, knowing that’s as close to a yes as you were ever going to get. Without another word, you tip yourself backwards off your broom. Orter’s eyes widen slightly as you freefall from the sky. It takes him a moment to process what just happened. His body reacts faster than his mind. Before he knows it, he’s riding his broom to follow you down.

Are you crazy? What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck was he doing going after you?

You’re approaching the ground at a speed that would have any normal person screaming in terror. But you would much rather die than be normal. Orter doesn’t get it. You play with life and death as if it were some game. He considers going in to save you. He considers whether he should offer his hand or use his magic to protect you. He swears that he’s thinking about this in a logical perspective because one Divine Visionary dying is a hindrance to the rest. But deep down, his heart betrays his mind, telling him that his reasonings have nothing to do with logic. He denies that too.

There’s a Madjinn coming into view. And the thought of saving you flies out his head as he finally pieces together your careless action. You pull out your wand from your coat, (it surprisingly has not gotten lost during the descent), yet you make no move to cast a spell. Every passing second of your inaction stresses Orter. What are you waiting for?

Orter’s about ready to take this matter into his own hands. The cantation of a spell is at the tip of his tongue, but before he can get the first word out, the Madjinn vanishes. Every trace of its existence disappears with it. The Desert Cane can’t help but turn your way. Any sign of your previous playfulness is buried under your emotionless face.

You land onto the earth’s dirt with ease. Orter realizes he unknowingly summoned his sand to soften your landing. He remains suspended on his broom, observing you from above. You meet his cold eyes with your own. The Madjinn slip past the barriers of your minds as if they aren’t currently terrorizing the world, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you.

But then you break out into that shit-eating grin while holding up a single finger. One. Orter snaps himself back to reality. You had just defeated a Madjinn like lightwork, and he didn’t even know how. You’re strong. He knows that, but looking back, when has he ever had an opportunity to witness your magic in person? Before today, you’ve only ever taken solo missions. Wahlberg doesn’t allow anyone to accompany you no matter how dangerous it is.

So that begs the question,

Just what the hell are you?

Orter lets out a huff of breath as he watches the sixth Madjinn fall to the will of his sand, an enormous hole blasted into its chest. He pushes his glasses up the frame of his nose. He hovers in the air for one last moment, eyes scanning the scape of the land to ensure that there are no other monsters.

After obtaining the confirmation he needs, Orter guides himself back onto the loose soil of the earth. He brushes off microscopic specks of dirt off the sleeves of his black robe. A snap of a branch captures the attention of the Visionary. His eyes follow the darkness of the trees. He waits for something, anything, to pop out. He grips his wand in anticipation.

Instead, it’s only you. The cool face you held earlier was more relaxed. Dirt and sweat smears across your entire face. You quickly spot Orter, and you break out into your standard warm smile.

“Oh hey, Orter.” You greet. There’s a slight stumble to your steps, but he can see you’re putting every ounce of your effort into keeping straight. “You alright? You didn’t get too fucked up by any Madjinn, did you?”

Orter Madl swallows down the urge to reprimand you for your choice of words. He’s aware of the joking tone laced in your words, but nonetheless, the concern twists his stomach.

“By the way, how many did you get?” You follow up with a twinkle in your eyes that displays your excitement. The bet. You were talking about the bet he agreed to in the sky.

Orter adjusts his glasses out of habit as he sighs, “Six.”

You stare at him with wide, bright eyes, lips tugging into a wide smile. He couldn’t read it. What were you trying to express to him? Did he win? Did he lose? Hold on. Why the fuck does it even matter to him?

“Let me know when you want to cash in that favor,” You respond with a wink. But before he could even pitch in, your eyes roll to the back of your head, legs giving out.

And you fall.

“They’ll be fine,” The nurse informs. “They overexerted themselves while using their magic, but they’ll be back on their feet after a few days' rest.”

“Alright, thank you.” Ryoh nods. The nurse takes it as a sign to dismiss herself.

With your caretaker out of the room, Ryoh lets out a heavy sigh. Orter observes your sleeping figure, studying every inch of your face. You’re… serene, like an angel, he thinks. The energy that typically bursts through you during the day is locked away. The goddamn smile you wear on your face finally takes a break here. This is you, you at zero percent. And all it took for you to reach that is two couples of Madjinn. For a Visionary, that should be lightwork. Perhaps a little draining but not to the point where you collapse. Just what kind of limits did your magic have? He digs through his mind, searching for any reasonable explanation that would answer that. He comes up with zilch.

Ryoh collapses himself onto a chair by your bed, legs crossed. “You really are an idiot. Always trying to act like you're the best magic user in the world when we both know that it’s me,” He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Orter wonders if you can hear him. “You’re gonna get an earful from me when you wake up.”

Orter doesn’t know why he stays. He could’ve left the moment after he dropped you off, but he didn’t. Even when Ryoh learned of your condition and assured him that it was okay for him to leave, he didn’t. You’re foolish. Foolish for not realizing the limits of your magic. Foolish for pushing yourself further than you should have. It’s stupid. He’s stupid. He’s stupid for being so worked up over you despite the fact that you’re fine. Stupid for letting you dominate his thoughts when he’s “convinced” that he doesn’t care about you.

“If you’re gonna stay, you might as well pull up a chair or something,” Ryoh remarks, slicing the quietness that engulfed the infirmary.

Orter exhales lightly. “There’s no need.”

“Whatever suits you, man.”

They fall back into the rhythm of silence, both too prideful to speak to the other despite working with each other for months.

“Hey Orter,” Ryoh starts, eyebrows creased slightly. “What do you really know about (Y/N)?”

It’s a simple question really, yet Orter can’t follow. He’s known you for years, knows the surface of your persona but never anything beyond that. He’s never bothered to dive into personal facts. That’s exactly what Ryoh is trying to pry at. What did he know about your pastimes, your magic, your history, literally anything?

And the answer was that Orter doesn’t know. He doesn’t know you at all.

Ryoh offers a small, sympathetic smile. He offers it like he knows it well. “Can’t come up with anything? Not surprised.”

Orter’s lips twitch onto a frown. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Orter. This has to do more with (Y/N) than it does with you,” Ryoh assures with a wave of his hands. His elbow finds the cushion of your bed. The mattress dips slightly under his weight. He presses his palm into the skin of his cheek, fingers drumming along his skin. “I’m not under any derestriction to say this, but (Y/N) couldn’t share anything with you even if they wanted to.”

With a skeptical glance, Orter begins to ask, “What are you talki-”. There’s a slight stir under the thin coverings of your hospital bed. A faint whine breaks through your lips. Your eyelids twitch, but you don’t make a move to wake.

Your mini disturbance prevents Orter from eliciting anything more out of Ryoh. But from what he could tell, the Light Cane wasn’t planning on sharing anymore either. Instead, he’s left with more questions than answers, and they’re swimming in his mind.

“I’ll see you later, Orter.” Ryoh says at the door, but he knows Orter is too distant for him to bother with a response back. The blonde’s lips tug into a minuscule grin before he’s off to his next destination.

There’s always been some sort of force to you. The kind of force that draws others to you whether they like it or not. It’s not a spell, not any sort of magic. It’s just… you. Orter knows it. He himself has fallen victim to it. Pull them in, but don’t let them get too close. You live by that. And with the new information from Ryoh, Orter can’t help but wonder how much of it was real. How many lies spilled from your mouth for the sake of whatever you had to protect?

It’s another late night at the Bureau for Orter. Paperwork always seems to find him. The space in his office is illuminated with the flames of candlelight. With the tip of his quill dipped in black, he signs off the final signature of the night.

Orter leans into the back of his chair. His eyes find the ceiling. He studies it as if it was going to whisper the secrets of life into his ear. He deems it useless – sitting around doing nothing, that is. He decides on a stroll around the Bureau. Maybe that’ll be a good way to waste time, or maybe someone else will bother him with more work. The latter is less likely. There isn’t much action during this time of night. There are sure to be a few stragglers, but none have any business with Orter.

His steps reverberate through the halls, echoing down the stairs. He passes by a couple of unfamiliar faces that offer him stiff nods of acknowledgement. He has no clear destination in mind. His legs make all the decisions before his brain can process it. They lead him down familiar paths, and eventually, Orter finds himself in front of the library entrance. Its towering mahogany door is cracked open slightly, strange in the fact that it’s past its closing time.

Curiosity takes over him. The door creaks on its hinges as he opens it, and Orter nearly cringes at the sound. He steps in. He mutters a spell under his breath to light up the tip of his wand, illuminating the darkened space. He cuts his wand across the air of the room. The collections of books become visible for a brief moment before hiding in the darkness once more. Step after step, he ventures deeper into the labyrinth of novels and textbooks.

He finds nothing to indicate what had opened the door of the library. Perhaps this was just a waste of time—time Orter could’ve spent sleeping. Maybe he should chalk it all up to the head librarian locking up incorrectly. That lady is as old as a bat. It’s a miracle to see her functioning properly on the job.

He’s a split second away from turning his back and leaving. There’s a sudden yelp coming from the back that makes him pause in his steps, a crash that lands on the carpeted floor. Without a second thought, Orter’s quick to dodge tables and bookshelves. His legs carry him to the source of the sound.

He finds you holding your left hip as your face contorts into expressions of pain. The spines of the book brush against the sides of his shoes, but he pays no attention to them.

“What are you doing?” Orter looks upon you with shock and perhaps a smidge of horror.

“Oh hey, Orter,” You respond between winces.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” He whispers sharply.

“That’s a good point, a great point even, but I’m going to be honest with you-”

“You forgot? You didn’t think about it? You don’t care?” Orter lists all of your typical excuses at the top of his head.

Your lips contort into a bright smile. All the pain that coursed through your body dissipates, and for a moment, Orter forgets he’s even mad at you.

“You know me so well, Madl.” You tease with a hand over your heart.

“Do I though?” Orter mutters under his breath, not expecting that you’d catch it. But you do.

Your smile falters, eyes softening. You don’t hold back, don’t try to play it off. Just like how you dove headfirst into the Madjinn, you don’t hesitate to confront someone face to face. Sometimes Orter can’t tell if it’s one of your better traits.

“What do you know?” Your voice is soft, hinted with fear.

Orter runs his tongue over his lips. He smooths back his mess of hair with a comb of his hand, but it falls back into the same place as before. “Not much.”

There’s silence. Neither of you know what to say. That is until an idea pops into the Desert Cane’s mind. It’s a shot. It’s a hit or miss if you’ll agree to it.

“Can I use my favor?”

“What?”

“My favor,” Orter steps towards you. “The one from the bet.”

“That’s sudden but sure,” You shrug.

He takes a breath. It’s now or never.

“Tell me who you are. No lies or any other fake information. I want the truth.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You stare at him, searching his eyes for any sign that he’s messing with you, but all that could be found is determination. Orter is set on obtaining the truth, and you know that nothing you say will stop him until he gets what he wants, and frankly, you’ve always wanted him to know.

“You’re gonna hate me for it.” You admit in a whisper, eyes cast down.

“That is for me to decide.” Orter shoots back. You fall into another beat of silence.

“Come with me.”

The top of the Bureau overlooks the entire town. It’s a place not visited by many, but when it is, they’ll find the best view the realm has to offer. It’s a haven for you, an escape from the horrors of work and the overall busyness of life.

The moonlight casts a glow on the ledge you and Orter sit. A breeze tickles your face. You snuggle into the warmth of your visionary robe as much as you could.

“Orter,” You begin, a solemn look on your face. “What do you know about Markus?”

“Markus,” Orter repeats. “He’s one of the most heinous criminals known to mankind. Not to mention an underling of Innocent Zero.”

But what did Markus have to do-

“What would you do if I told you I was his child?”

Orter’s head snaps towards you, but you’re facing straight ahead.

That’s a joke. You have to be joking. It has to be-

“If you think I’m joking, I’m not,” You enforce as if reading his mind. You avert your gaze to meet Orter’s. “You wanted the truth? This is it.”

The man next to you is stunned into silence. There isn't anything he can say. All he can do is wait for you to explain.

You take a breath. “My father was one of the worst people alive,” You laugh bitterly. “So much to the point where I don’t even think I can even call him a person.”

“You think he would change his ways once a child came around,” You continue with a sigh. “But I guess I wasn’t enough to make the shittiest man alive turn into a good person. Not that I’d want him to be. The things he did…”

You grip the material of your robe so tight that you could practically pierce the fabric. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip to stop them from quivering. You shoot your eyes towards him. “They’re unforgivable. Even if he did change, I would’ve hated for him to live a peaceful life knowing that he’s made others miserable, including mine.”

The stars are intrigued by the heart-to-heart conversation you’re sharing with Orter. There’s far too many of them out tonight, not that you minded. This ledge of the Bureau and the lights of the night have heard all your stories, but they don’t dare share it with the world. There’s no one for them to share it with.

Being open with humans is different. Being vulnerable can cost you. Humans are not the same as stars. They can betray you, abandon you in a single moment when you share your darkest secrets with them. Stars won’t. They keep to themselves, confining themselves to the space beyond earth.

He’s by the books, follows every law and constitution there is set. Orter knows where his sense of justice lies, and when you reveal your all to him, you know that justice is not going to lie with you. You wonder if this is the right decision you’re making, trusting Orter like you do a star. He may resent you. Hell, he might try to kill you too. But if there’s a chance, a small hope that he might not, then you’ll take it with both hands.

“If it weren’t for my magic, he would’ve killed me.” You admit. You take a breath, letting the cool air flow through your lungs.

“Your magic. What is it?” Orter questions.

“Markus called it Void Magic.”

“Void?”

“It sends things,” A pause between your next words. “to a void. I don’t know where. I’ve never been. But wherever I send them, they never come back.”

Orter calculates the words that will spill out of his mouth. You don’t let him, instead choosing to continue on with your tale.

“I was forced to use that magic for bad things, Orter,” Your voice breaks as you say it, and Orter swears he sees your eyes shine with tears.

“He would take me with him to carry out his orders. Told me to send things away. Innocents sent away by my command. I didn’t want to, believe me, I didn’t want to, but if I refused…” You inhaled as an effort to compose yourself. “Let’s just say I had to suffer the consequences, things no child should ever have to experience.”

“How’d you escape him?” Orter asks so delicately that it surprises himself.

A bitter smile takes your face. “Wahlberg. He saved me.”

Orter briefly recalls the details of Markus’s arrest from years ago. The papers said that the Bureau had been able to grasp the location of the heinous criminal. He was cornered by a number of potent mages, including Wahlberg himself. After a vicious battle, Markus was arrested and imprisoned deep within Hecatrice. What the papers never mentioned, though, was a child.

“He saved me from execution. He covered my identity and cut off any ties that I had with Markus. He told me that my magic could be used for good if I honed it right. And I wanted to be good. I wanted to bury the monster that bastard forced onto me. Wahlberg helped me with that. He helped me with everything. That’s why I’m still here today.

“It’s still so difficult. I fear that some day I’ll be spit on by society for what I did. Some days I fear that monster will crawl out again, and everything I worked for ends up being for nothing. That’s why I refuse to get close to anyone. I’m scared that I could end up sending them to the void by accident, because even now, there are still aspects of my magic that I don’t understand.

“I drown in my fear, and from that fear, spawned the front I present to you and to everyone in this goddamn world… Some days I wish that they killed me that day.”

Those last words fall from your lips quietly. Orter wishes you would take it back despite the protests of his mind.

“What keeps you going on the other days?” Orter inquires. That shouldn’t matter to him though.

A look of fondness fills your eyes, and the sadness that weighed down your heart is burned away.

“The fact that I can be better than Markus ever was. The fact that I am free.”

Minutes of silence fall between you two after that. The information that you’ve dumped on him is still processing in his mind. Orter doesn’t get it. His mind, his sense of justice, tells him that you should be punished, to suffer the sins of your crimes. It whispers that your place in society should be stripped away. And his heart, which is so attuned with his mind, counters otherwise. For once they don’t fall into agreement.

(Y/N) is not their father. It tells him. They were only a child forced into the will of their parent. They’re doing better — being better, is that not enough for you?

What should it matter? His mind argues.

“Do you hate me now?” You ask, hesitant. Fearful.

And for once, he’s at a loss. Orter Madl, who’s so sure about everything in his life, has not a single clue in how he should approach your question.

You know the answer, coward. His heart barks. It’s been in front of you this entire time.

And it dawns on him. It hits him like a sprinting horse, knocking the air out of his chest. So that was it. It was something so simple, yet he twisted it to be more complex than it actually was.

“I should,” Orter answers. “All my morals point me in that direction. My head is all for it.” His hands slide the frames of his glasses up. Your eyes track the movement.

“Yet I cannot find it in me to follow it. You’ve consumed my thoughts, filled my mind so much that I made it my mission to figure you out. I wanted to understand you, and I brushed it off as plain curiosity, but it was never that.”

Your heart catches along with your breath. Your head is lost in confusion.

“I am enamored by you. It was always easy as that.”

Orter finds your eyes, full of light and wonder. A gulp trembles down his throat. He makes the mistake of trailing his gaze down to your slightly parted lips and his breath pauses.

It’s as if time slows down to a point where it becomes unmoving. Everything drowns out, and it’s just you and him and the heavenly beings that look on with anticipation from their places in the night sky.

Your hand reaches out for his face. Your fingers delicately sweep strands of hairs out of his eyes.

“I tried. I tried to bury my feelings for you, yet I continued to fail. You have captured my heart, Orter Madl, and it is yours to keep.”

Orter is not prepared for what possesses him next. He closes the space between your bodies. His hand finds the soft skin of your cheek, caressing it so gently that you feel like you could fly. Your lips move in sync with some timidness, adjusting to the feel of each other. Your lips are warm, and it lights every fire within Orter.

He kisses you for every time he wished you near him. You kiss him back for every unspoken word that built in your heart.

Orter thinks he could do this for centuries, spend all his time with his mouth against yours. The way your hands run through the hair on the back of his head is euphoric. He wants you to do that for all of eternity.

When you pull away for air, a selfish part of him wants to bring you back. You opt for a smile, and he settles for that too, for it is something he engraves into his memories.

His forehead presses onto yours, and he exhales joyously. Your body relaxes into his.

“I promise you,” Orter whispers. “I promise you that I will help you in any way I can. I will be a light in your journey.”

Another smile graces your face. You respond to him by sealing your lips with his once more, assuring him that his promise is understood.

The stars always knew that though, but that was yet another secret they kept to themselves.

[harlowsbby]

Late Nights In

Requested, being laid up with Jack and the two of you just spending some much needed time alone together.

“Shit that shit hurts babe.” Jack groaned.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you just learned how to keep straight! Whenever you move I end up plucking your skin instead.” You told him and leaned his head back.

Jack was soon regretting his decision on staying in tonight instead of going on with the boys. Since Jack had just gotten back from tour all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

But he didn’t know spending time with you would lead to you plucking his eyebrow and placing a bunch of pimple patches to pimples that he didn’t even know he had.

“You were the one that was curious to know what it felt like so I’m showing you.” You told him as you concentrated on his eyebrows.

“Alright I love you but that’s enough.” He whined and pushed your hands away from his face gently. You stiffed a laugh but nonetheless sat up.

Jack’s hand were on either side of your waist as you sat on top of him. “So what do you wanna do now?”

“What do you usually do on your little self care nights when I’m not here?” He asked.

“Well I order in some food, I put a few pimple patches on my face, drink lots of lemon water.” He grimaced at the mention of lemon water.

“Okay so we won’t do the lemon water.” You laughed. “Ooo let’s do face mask and after I’ll apply the little pimple patches to you face, then we can make some food?”

“Sounds good babe.” He smiled and the two of you made your way into the bathroom.

Jack stood there as you got all of your products out, his eyebrows scrunched together when you went to place a pink headband on his head that pushed back his curls.

He didn’t mind it but it was the big pink bow on top of it that threw him off. “What is this for?” He asked.

“You use it to push your hair back whenever you do your skincare so stuff doesn’t get into your hair.” You told him. “Which mask do you wanna use?”

You held up two mask one was a aloe mask used to make your skin shine and glow and the other was a clay mask that was used to clean pores that were deep in the skin.

“Hmm let’s do the clay on last time you had me looking like a shiny diamond with the other mask.” You huffed but nonetheless placed the mask on his face.

The two of you sat there for about fifteen minutes to let the mask do it’s work. You sat on the counter while Jack stood between your legs.

“Let’s play a little game while these dry?” He suggested. “Okay what’s the game.” He grinned.

“It’s called what’s my biggest ick, we both tell one another what our biggest ick’s about each other are.”

You squinted your eyes at Jack slightly. “And what makes you think this is a good idea?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think it’s a good idea but come on I know I don’t have any bad ick’s.” You laughed.

“Okay so my biggest ick about you is the fact that you take hours to get ready.” Jack said with a smirk on his face.

“And? I’m a woman I’m gonna take hours to get ready.” You told him. “You can’t get mad they said this is good therapy for couples.” Jack said quickly.

“Okay Jack since this is good therapy.” You stated with a bitter tone.

“My biggest ick about you is the fact that you treasure those damn Pokémon cards more than me.” He gasped and covered his mouth with his hands.

“No you didn’t.” He said in disbelief.

“Did I lie? I mean come on I love Pokémon too but you literally dust off every single page everyday, you won’t even go to bed until you’ve counted each card and cleaned each card.”

You weren’t lying Jack treated his Pokémon collection like it was gold.

One night the two of you were in the bed just kissing and loving on each other when he suddenly remembered he had to go clean them.

“You know what I don’t think I wanna play this game anymore.” He mumbled making you laugh.

“Oh don’t act like that now when you just stated you can’t get mad now.” You mimicked his voice.

“But come on it’s time to take these off.” You told him and removed his mask along with your face, after you took them off you washed your face and Jack washed his.

You placed a few flower themed pimple patches on the red spots on his face and the two of you made your way downstairs.

“What are we making?” You looked through the fridge trying to find something that looked good but nothing seemed to pop out to you.

“You wanna order in some wings and fries?” Jack nodded his head and took out his wallet. “Sounds good baby.”

While the two of you waited for the food to arrive you both laid on the couch together trying to find something to watch before the food got there.

“What do you feel like watching? Something scary or something cute.”

You asked Jack as you scrolled through all the different types of movies on Netflix but Jack wasn’t paying attention though, he was focused on you.

Jack appreciated nights like this he loved how you didn’t care to spend a night in with him and that you weren’t all about the going out and being seen type vibe.

He was lucky he had someone who was understanding of his lifestyle, someone who understood him and loved him for him.

He knew nobody was perfect but you on the other hand you were perfect in his eyes at least.

“Jack?!” The sound of your voice brought him out of his little trance. There you sat with a worried look on your face. “Yeah babe?”

“I’ve been calling you name for the past five minutes are you okay?” You asked him. He smiled and nodded.

“I’m okay I’m just admiring my girl.” He grinned when you looked away but he knew you had a small smile on your face.

“Why you hiding? Lemme see that face.” He leaned up a bit on his spot from the couch and grabbed your chin and turned your face to meet his.

“You know I don’t like when you hide from me.” He said. “I know.” You mumbled.

“So why are you hiding?” You shrugged your shoulders. “You just make me nervous but in a good way.” You told him and Jack chuckled.

“I love you.” He whispered softly. “I love you too Jack but hurry up and kiss me.”

He chuckled but nonetheless pulled you into his and pressed his lips against your lips.

You felt his grip on you tighten as he moved his lips passionately against yours.

The show the two of you put on was long forgotten about now, the only thing that mattered was being wrapped up in Jack’s arms and giving him endless kisses.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Zelda's Personality

I did a post about how Link, despite being a player insert, has different personalities through the games that appear subtly and can be inferred based on his behaviors and responses. So now it's time for the Zeldas! More recent games have given more of a shining role to the character for whom the franchise is named, and I love the variety between them all, so let's explore it a bit! (At least for the games that I've played)

Ocarina of Time Zelda - My gosh. I love her so much. This woman ain't a princess, she is a Queen. She is so determined to protect her people that even as a child she's willing to order people around and go against the adults' wishes, despite being ignored. This girl is determined. Like, BotW Zelda gets put down over and over despite her efforts and she is understandably dejected and goes along with what her father wants. This Zelda is straight up like I'M RIGHT YOU'RE WRONG and just moves on LOL. Not only is she determined, she has a plan. A very foolish childish plan because she is a child and no one is going to stop her.

And, naturally, since it's a child's plan against an adult who has all the other adults wrapped around his fingers, it doesn't work. Zelda is left with a kingdom in flames, the evil man she was trying to stop obtained the Triforce, and her father is dead. She's fleeing her home and spends the rest of her childhood in exile. Something like this could destroy a person. And maybe it did. But she picked herself back up. And not only did she pick herself back up, she trained herself to fight. She learned everything she needed to about the Hero's journey so she could guide him when he returned. She stayed in hiding to avoid Ganondorf's watch. She protected the Triforce of Wisdom. This girl is a certified badass.

This Zelda is a fighter in every sense of the word. Nothing will stop her, not even her own mistakes. But she is sensitive too, she's aware of the damage this has done to Link and is apologetic and so incredibly sad. She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. (Granted, this is Adult Timeline Zelda, but she is just Child Timeline Zelda put through a different scenario, so... same personality for both of them, just different circumstances).

So overall, this Zelda is decisive, resolute, never gives up, empathetic, and probably a little reclusive based on how she's always left to her own devices.

Skyward Sword Zelda - This girl is chaotic and it's wonderful. She pushes her best friend off cliffs and sky islands. She bullies the bullies. She's training in a knight's academy, which more people need to remember dang it. She's protective, she's anxious, she's bossy, she's curious.

This girl is also pretty darn adaptable. Like. She gets thrown out of the sky, out of everything she's ever known, tossed into a world of danger with no one to guide her but a stranger, and has to recover memories of being a freaking goddess and endure a journey of discovering herself while also being chased by Ghirahim. And she does it. Like... Link isn't far behind her, he goes after her literally the next day, and she's already doing her part of her adventure. She was told the fate of the world depends on you and she said okay, then, better get going. Like wow.

She has to have a strong sense of self. This girl found out she was a goddess and told Link after everything, "I'm still my father's daughter. I'm still your Zelda." She was called Your Grace, she was a spirit maiden for a deity her people worshipped, and she still said, "yes. Yes, all of this is true. But I'm still me." Like... I know we see her during her journey when she's still processing and not the aftermath, but this girl has a will of iron and will not let go of who she is.

In summary, this Zelda is courageous, has a strong sense of duty, is a gremlin, excitable, assertive, and stubborn.

Breath of the Wild Zelda - Oh, this poor princess. This Zelda is so sincere and wants to help so much, but she struggles with discovering herself and her powers. She is endlessly inquisitive and absolutely crushed under the pressure her father and her kingdom places on her. She lets it out through understandable frustration, pitting it against someone who, to her, represents everything she is not, which is so interesting.

This Zelda wants for the pieces to just fit but she can't figure it out, and instead of doing some introspection she just continues to look for alternatives. When she does do introspection, it's just to ask why she's defective. Things just need to make sense. I feel like an attitude like this implies that 1, Zelda has no instructor and therefore never learned how to learn, and 2, that implies that everything else she's good at has come naturally to her, such as technology. This girl is a scientist! Who has not learned the scientific method! Though she does try experiments, as poor Link can attest.

When Zelda is allowed to just be herself she seems very sweet and bubbly and excitable. She's so happy when she wants Link to try that frog! She's also incredibly chatty, bless her, having to put up with that silent knight all the time haha (yes, Link does eventually talk to her. Eventually.)

I would also like to note that the instant this girl gets her powers, she goes straight to the castle and holds Ganon at bay for a hundred years. The instant she's free of that burden and bondage, she wants to rebuild her kingdom. Like holy cow. This girl went from doubting herself so much to having so much hope. She is a symbol of hope for her Hyrule.

BotW Zelda is uncertain initially, but learns to have faith in herself and more importantly has all the faith in the world in her people. She is inquisitive, extremely intelligent, energetic, bubbly, and very sensitive.

Twilight Princess Zelda - One of the more mysterious and less prominent Zeldas in her series, this woman radiates quiet strength and regalness. Also, her very first scene (or maybe it's a cut scene flashback in her first interaction in the game) shows her brandishing a sword to fight alongside her soldiers. Hell yes, Queen. But she also has the wherewithal to recognize when she's outplayed. She is wise and knows when to fold to avoid needless casualties. She is willing to put herself in such a vulnerable state in order to protect others. She knew that fighting would still result in the kingdom being overcome by Twilight magic with bonus dead soldiers, so she opted for doing it without the dead soldiers. Knowing when you're beaten and taking it with grace to figure things out takes not only wisdom but humility.

This Zelda is also just... so incredibly understated. Her sadness over her kingdom's fall into disarray is poignant but subtle. Her compassion for Midna when she's dying is muted, but so clearly evident in that she gives her remaining life energy to her. Her acceptance of Link as the Hero, and her sign of respect to him and petition for his aid is just oh my goodness, the regal bow, the willingness to fight alongside him, I love her.

With as little as she features in the game and with as quiet as she can be, she honestly is hard to peg down, but overall this Zelda strikes me as someone who feels deeply and expresses little of it. She's quiet, she's reserved, but she is humble and dignified and incredibly kind.

So there you have it. Some of the ladies for you. I love them all dearly and love to compare and contrast them. <3

[itgirlgyu]

how i think txt would react if their female best friend sat on their lap

requested!

YEONJUN...

oh my god totally bitchless behavior coming in within 0.4 seconds

like this man will stop functioning, like is it normal to have your hands on the side?

tries to strike a pose

like daniel,, bby you're embarrassing yourself

swear he thinks he's like aha so fine

might lean back to play it cool

but you know he stiff as hell

like basically it's that dad pose when you know you've disappointed him and you're about to sit with him in a dark living room to soak in the immeasurable shame you've brought to the family.

his undergarment is drenched from stress sweats

might actually start stuttering

pls get off him before his dry sex life makes him pop a boner and the friendship gets ruined for life.

SOOBIN...

his head starts overheating due to overthinking the moment you sit on his lap like

the only two option were the floor where beomgyu spilled his drink or any of the dudes lap and he's your bestie boo so ofc you'd pick him

right?

tries to gaslight himself into thinking it's fine

like sure this shit is fine and it's normal to sit on each others laps.

but inside his head there are 4 tabs open, two of them are having a debate on the pros and cons of having your best friend on your lap and other two are playing tiktok random hits and he doesn't know which one he should tune in to

for the peace of his own mind, he tries to sit on your lap the next time

tit for tat he says.

BEOMGYU...

starts acting like you are crushing his thighs

he knows you playing so he's like aha two can play the game

girl you really thought you will outdo the doer

the og mr. mood breaker?

will straight up start moaning in your ears

starts squirming and whining like

'oooof my thighs are so fragile,'

does not give two cents about the place he is in

or the situation

or what people will assume

if soobin is the overthinker, beomgyu rarely thinks

its like his brain just takes off in a rush and it's taken over by the sheer need to annoy the fuck out of his bestie.

he's like the fly you can't just quite swat away

literally starts doing his own echo moan from one ear to another

you have to admit the defeat and get up on your own.

TAEHYUN...

will not straight up push you off him.

but the look he gives you, he might as well just put in the physical effort and do it.

his face is like, 'you did this for what?'

'why not?'

'why though?'

tries to get used to you sitting on him

like its chill

you're his bestie and he's a gym goer

so it does work out nicely

but the thing is like,

your back is blocking his vision

like its all chill and cute in movies but irl your sight will definitely get blocked and it has nothing to do with the person's height!

he tries to adjust so that he doesn't need to kick you off of him

and hurt your feelings or something

man is here jumping through hoops to seem effortless in order to continue his debate with hyuka about the importance of the balance between peanut butter and jelly in the sandwich

you see his struggle and move over on your own with a new found respect for terry the terrance taehyun kang

HUENING KAI...

he's looking at your head like, hmm you kinda sus

but that lasts like a whole lot of ten seconds before he's like nothings even on him

although he tries to smell the top of your head like what is the difference between a baby's head and an adult's crown

he is a curious little crow, it's one of his charms

makes a quick mental note to break it to you gently that you might need to take a lil bit more hygiene care on the top of your head.

he leans back

unlike yeonjun the daniel choi, he's fr chill

also man's broad as hell

he's like meant to be a chair at this point

you can lean in as much as you want on him and you know he would fine with anything

like he barely feels you on him anyway

you can probably just lean back on him and he'd cradle you like his first born

just maybe not kiss the top of your head

but he finally got an idea what to gift you on your birthday!

so it all worked out for the best!

© to itgirlgyu. feedbacks are highly appreciated and welcomed!!!!

[radiant-reid]

BAU Boys

request: Hey! I loved your fic with Hotch and Reid, could you write a fic with Morgan, Hotch, Reid, and ofc y/n? Maybe some (or not just some) spit kink/cum play/Reid on his knees?

i didn't make this spencer x reader romantically like i usually do so i hope that's okay

Summary: Staying late at Rossi's with your favorite colleagues really pays off

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Aaron Hotchner x Derek Morgan x Fem!Reader (SMUTTT)

Content Warnings: omg, where to start? alcohol consumption and the smut: | unprotected penetrative sex, (protected) anal sex, oral f/m giving/receiving, spit kink, lots of cum play, degradation and maybe a little humiliation, a lot of praise, some choking, so much teasing/dirty talk |

Word Count: 6.7k and it's just filth

You should have known choosing to stay at Rossi's with just Spencer, Morgan, and Hotch would lead to trouble.

Rossi, your fabulous host, had gone to his room, insisting on his old-man bedtime, and left the four of you on the outdoor couches around his massive firepit.

How hot they are, the heat from the open flames and the alcohol makes it difficult to concentrate. You've been alone with each of them on cases, but something about tonight feels different. It's a mix of Morgan's flirting, Hotch's hand on your back lower back whenever he walks past you, and Spencer having played footsies with you under the table that's got you hot and bothered.

"Let's play truth or dare," Morgan suggests, and you know where the evening is going. One way or another, you're going to end up sleeping with one- or hopefully, more than one- of them.

You've thought about it before. Hotch has the dominant, authoritative thing going on where you can't help but imagine him barking orders at you in bed like he does at unsubs. Morgan can be like that, but he's got a prevalent flirty side, and you have no doubt that he's experienced enough to make you cum in every position. Then there's Spencer... sweet Spencer, who, you're sure, knows more than he's letting on and absolutely has a submissive side.

You thought Hotch, at least, would object to the game, calling it childish as he had on more than one occasion, but he doesn't. "But if you don't want to answer, you can drink instead." Hotch proposes, although it sounds more like a strict rule when it's coming from his mouth.

"I'm done for whatever." You agree too strongly, but it's very intentional.

"I might need more convincing," Spencer complains, but he's bluffing, you can tell.

You reach over to touch his knee, holding it for slightly longer than would be appropriate in a professional setting. "I'm sure we can figure that out." You say, glancing between Hotch and Morgan who absolutely know what you're talking about.

Spencer's Adam's apple bobs as he gulps. "Thanks."

"I'm going first." Morgan declares, clearly having a question in mind, as is evident by his excessive grinning. "Pretty boy, truth or dare?"

"Seriously?" Spencer asks, huffing. You all knew Morgan would choose him first, probably to start off with a low-key but sexual question. "Truth."

His question is just as you expected. "Did you ever lose that v-card of yours?" He asks with zero hesitation.

"Morgan." You tell him off, leaning across to hit him on the shoulder. "Don't pick on him."

"Answer the question." Hotch orders, and your eyebrows raise as you sneak a glance at him.

He's either curious, or he already knows the answer. You can't tell which. "No," Spencer states firmly. "I mean yes, I lost it. I'm not a virgin."

"Your turn." Morgan reminds him, impatiently tapping his foot.

You're close to asking him what exactly has him so excited, but then Spencer chooses one of you. "Hotch."

"Truth." Your boss picks.

The question that comes out of Spencer's mouth is not what you would expect by a long shot. "What's the largest age gap you've had between you and a partner?" He asks, before clarifying, "A sexual partner."

You almost want to hug him for asking, as if he'd done it for your benefit, but you contain yourself. "20 years." He answers, eyes fixed on you. His expression is pure lust, and you know you're in.

You are so in.

And you could not be more thrilled about it. His intense gaze makes your whole body heat up, and your underwear dampens.

"Y/n." Of course, he'd choose you, able to read your expression just like how you're reading his.

You're going to tease him. It's game on. You just can't help it, keep him on his toes, humble him a little. "Dare. I'm not a wimp like either of you." To further push your luck, you not-so-sneakily touch Spencer's thigh again, watching how it's making Hotch clench his jaw with jealousy.

"Bring your smart mouth here then." He responds with a challenge, standing up as you do. He looks thoroughly delectable with his sleeves rolled up, his forearms on full display.

Morgan, scoffing at your boldness, and Spencer, eyes wide, watch the interaction play out eagerly. Of course, it would be your boss who set the tone of the evening.

You walk over to him confidently, only stopping when your shoes are an inch from his. It's a bluff, a large one. Standing in front of him makes you feel tiny more so now than at work. You're breathing gets increasingly unsteady when he grabs your jaw between his index finger and thumb and he holds you there, prolonging your intense eye contact.

Somehow, you want to squirm away from and get closer to him and his addicting cologne.

Involuntarily, you let out a whimper, earning a smirk from him. The world slips away from you for the half minute that you stand there, completely freezing.

Then he lets go, leaving your skin hot and your mouth open in astonishment. "That's what I thought," Hotch says calmly. You're pretty sure he sits back down to hide his hard-on, but you're still too stunned to move. His smirk is smugger than you've ever seen it.

When you sit back down, Morgan's chuckling, enjoying your reaction. "Y/n?" He says, getting you to nod, your attention finally back on him. "Your turn."

"Spencer Reid." You turn to him, knowing you'll be going against the 'don't tease Spencer' policy you set for Morgan.

"Truth." He decides, not deterred by your name-calling.

It's the answer you're looking for. "What's the dirtiest thing you've ever thought about me?"

Without hesitation, he reaches for his drink, taking a sip of his fruity cocktail. "Nope." He says, taking full advantage of the 'out' clause set by Hotch.

"Seriously?" You scoff, hitting him on the shoulder playfully. Now you're even more interested.

"Morgan." Spencer chooses.

"Truth." He says, confirming that, ironically, you're the only one with balls.

"What is...your favorite sex position?" He asks. It's a seemingly innocent question, much tamer than the eyefucking, or whatever that was, that occurred between you and Hotch

But Morgan takes it a step further, getting up from where he's sitting and holding his hand out for you to take. "I'll show you." He says, looking at Spencer.

You take his hand cautiously, but with anticipation of him doing something to you like Hotch did. You're hoping it involves his arms around you in some form because his strong arms are mouthwatering.

He doesn't. Instead, he pulls you to the side, grinning at you. "Thanks, princess." He winks, handing you over to Hotch.

Before you can ask what's happening, Hotch has you in his lap, one hand holding your waist as you face forward for the Morgan/Spencer show.

Spencer's just as stunned as you were with Hotch as Morgan puts him on his hands and knees like he's a ragdoll before getting on his knees behind Spencer and pushing his hips against his ass. He waits for a beat to make sure Spencer's comfortable with it before pushing his head against the fabric of the outdoor couch.

"Does that answer your question?" Morgan asks, mostly rhetorically because Spencer is hard. Very, very hard. The question makes him let out a moan that he quickly tries to disguise.

As you giggle at his pathetic attempt to hide his pleasure, Hotch's grip on your waist tightened. It's innocent enough until you wiggle around enough to feel how hard he is, just what you're looking for.

"Caused a problem for me, baby." He tells you, shifting your hair on the left side of your shoulder to the side. You're grateful you chose an emerald green, sleeveless, silk blouse with an open back in the morning. You're also grateful you picked a matching set of underwear that you're sure is about to make an appearance.

"I can tell." You say simply, not even turning your head to look at him. You're too focused on the glorious sight in front of you of Morgan practically dry-humping Spencer, drilling home -quite literally- what his favorite position is.

The remark isn't what he's looking for, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you whimper slightly.

Not one to fold so easily, you continue pushing his buttons. "Sounds like you should fix it." You tell him.

He grips your jaw like he did before, tilting your chin around as far as it can go so he can stare into your eyes while he reprimands you. "That's not courteous."

"I'm sure your hand would work fine." You persist, rolling your ass backward against the hard length poking through his pants. "Surely you've done it enough times thinking about me. In hotel rooms after a long hot day in Texas." Hotch barely flinches ever, but when he gulps then, you know your suspicions about that day was right. Back then, a few months ago, he was squirming at the lowcut top you'd worn just for him. "What else to do think about?" You bait him to keep going.

"Making you absolutely weak in the knees." He tells you, hand sneaking onto your thigh. "Which I think..." He pauses for a moment, pushing his hand further up, bunching your skirt up before nudging the pad of his thumb against your underwear. "Worked."

You're forcing yourself not to cave so easily. "That's not very descriptive, Aaron." You chide, purposefully lowering your voice as you say his first name.

He's not holding it together as well as you are- or are pretending to- and he juts his hips into yours with a guttural groan. "You want descriptive?" He asks.

"What part of what I just said was unclear?" You ask, grinning as you piss him off.

His fingernails are pressing so firmly into your thigh that you know he'll leave nail-shaped imprints. "Seeing how you behave, I definitely think about spanking your ass bright red until you learn to stop being a brat, and then shoving my cock so far down your throat that you can't make any more smart comments, and finally, fucking you so hard that there's not a single thought in that pretty head of yours."

You mewl at his words, and you know it's giving him the upper hand, but you need something more than sitting on his lap, feeling his hard cock against your back.

"That's what I thought," Aaron says smugly. "Don't even need my cock in you to have you desperate. Going to beg for me?"

You scoff, making sure he can see you roll your eyes. "Not yet." You answer. "Ever considered it's that that's turning me on?" You ask, tipping your head towards the scene playing out in front of you.

Morgan's in the position you bet Aaron wishes he was in, fingers threaded through Spencer's curls to force more cock down his throat. It's definitely contributing to how turned on you are, but nothing's affecting you as much as Aaron.

When Morgan catches you looking he winks, tugs Spencer's eager mouth off him, and holds his jaw. It gives you a full view of just how big his cock is, confirming what Penelope had hypothesized a while ago. You're excited to have it inside you or Aaron's or Spencer's. Or any one of their fingers. Or anything.

Spencer doesn't even shut his mouth, and it makes it easy for Morgan to spit into it.

"That too?" Aaron asks, noticing your obvious reaction to the act. "Didn't know you were so filthy, Ms. L/n."

"You're a pretty shitty profiler then." You snap back.

He grabs your cheek roughly, holding you in place, and you allow yourself a glance down at his thick, long fingers. "You know what I think?" He asks, not giving you enough time to think of or articulate a smart-mouth answer. "This whole brat act you have going on, it's just a front for you worrying you're not going to be as good at sucking cock as Spencer is."

"I should put that to the test." You decide, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise, anticipating you getting down on your knees. "And go suck Derek's cock."

"Get up." He demands, dominant tone so prevalent. You're unsure of what he's doing, and it's evident on your face. Instead of letting you go to Derek, Aaron nods at him. "Inside?" He offers. You spin around in your heels to look at him, trying to read what he's thinking. "Do you want Dave watching?" He asks rhetorically.

Your eyes snap to the window of Rossi's bedroom, worried he's standing there in a matching pajama set and one of those old stripy hates with a pompom at the end (what you guess he sleeps in) and judging- while also being supportive- of all four of you.

Thankfully, he's not, but you realize it's better to not risk it. Spencer's thinking the same thing, getting off his knees, which are probably sore from the stone patio tiles.

Aaron grabs his glass of scotch and Spencer's ice water in one hand, nudging you to follow Derek and Spencer with a hand on your ass. "Are you going to be good?" He asks, leaning down so you can feel his breath hot against your neck.

"No." You answer honestly, not deterred by his tight squeeze on your ass.

"Good." He says with a grin. "Are you going to let me do whatever I want to you?"

Your stomach clenches with excitement as he says that. "Yes." You tell him because you're already putty in his hands, without him touching you under your clothing.

"Stop." He demands, when you reach the door of the bedroom that Derek and Spencer are in. You look up at him with a frown, worried he'll walk you to the next bedroom and you won't get to spend the night with all of them, but he walks in and puts the glasses down on the nightstand. Your confusion only increases with his next instruction. "Hands and knees." Regardless, you follow it, waiting for the next one. "Crawl."

You do as he instructs without hesitation as all of them watch while they stand in front of the bed. "So she can follow instructions." Derek jokes, clearly having paid more attention to you are Aaron outside than you were paying to him. "On your knees, baby." He instructs.

You oblige, switching from Aaron to Derek smoothly. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, and you know what he's looking for: a trial run, a chance to test if your cock-sucking skills are enough for him to let you have a turn giving him head.

You take it into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the smooth skin, but he pushes down on the bottom row of your teeth after a second, forcing- with no objections- your jaw down. The air in the room dries your mouth out until he holds it like Aaron had, bending down to do to you what he had done with Spencer, and you feel his warm saliva coating your tongue.

Aaron steps closer, having his turn. The slight scotch taste still in his mouth is what you've been awaiting. He guides Spencer's head down by his hair so he, too, can spit on your tongue. It's not gross, like it might be with someone else. The warm mix of all three of them is delightful.

"Going to swallow?" Aaron temps, raising his eyebrow.

It's not really a question. Of course, you're going to. All you've wanted since Aaron first held your jaw was to feel a mix of three of them coating your throat. "Always." You say, winking up at them.

"Let's test that out." Aaron prompts, nodding down towards his pants. You know you're still going to tease him, and you only palm his prominent bulge.

You continue your intense eye contact with him while you listen to Derek giving Spencer instructions. "Get up on the bed, pretty boy."

Aaron takes his eyes off you for a moment, and yours follow where he's looking, directly at Derek. "Check the drawer," Aaron tells him, nodding to the bedside table on the left side.

Derek does, showing all three of you what Aaron has prior knowledge of being in the drawer: condoms and lube. Everything you need for a good night.

You chuckle up at Aaron as you go to unbutton and unzip his pants. "How'd you know that was there?"

"Lucky guess." He shrugs. "I promise I don't bring random people here and have sex with them." He assures you, delicately brushing a finger through your hair. "Why? Are you jealous?"

You shake your head. "I can share and be shared." You joke regarding the situation in the room. "Plus, if it actually is as big as it feels, any girl you bring here or anywhere else should have the opportunity to have it inside them."

He's never done well with compliments, and he laughs slightly, unable to hide his blushing. It's so beautiful because of its rarity. You just enjoy it instead of commenting on it, unbuckling his belt.

"Wait, stop." He says quickly, and you pull away. It's an odd situation to be in, especially since he's your boss, and you completely understand if he has changed his mind. He notices the concern on your face and strokes his thumb over your cheek to show you he's okay. "Stand up." He requests, helping you up with his other hand.

"Are you okay?" You double-check.

He nods slightly before he dips his head, avoids bumping your noses together, and kisses you. You shouldn't be so shocked since your lips were a couple of inches away from his on the couch, but it takes you a half-second to kiss him back.

It's a delicate and surprisingly innocent kiss for the position you were just in, and he looks shy when he pulls back, avoiding eye contact. It's a side to him that you've never seen before, like the wall of authoritative command has wavered, and it's attractive. "Sorry, I just don't like to...you know..." He trails off sheepishly.

You fill in the blanks in your head, leaning up to kiss him yourself. You always knew he was a softy. "It's okay." You assure him. "Can I?" You ask, hooking your fingers into his belt.

"Please." He nods. You don't even get back down to your knees before both of you are distracted by Spencer on his hands and knees, his loud moan, and the beautiful sight of Derek's fingers in his ass. His index and middle finger pump in and out at a speed that makes your knees weak, from watching, clearly hitting a spot inside Spencer that makes him crazy.

Derek praises him, running his large palm over his arched back. "Such a good boy." He says, putting another finger in Spencer's ass. His moans are shameless, different from how soft-spoken he usually is.

"You're going to have to be quieter than that." Aaron comments, sneaking a hand under your shirt to touch your bare skin so he can keep you close to him.

"Can't think of a good way to shut him up, Hotch?" Derek prompts with a sly grin. "His mouth is extraordinary."

Aaron plays it casually, too, and Spencer's hips search for friction on the bed at the objectification. "If you're going to fuck him, I'm going to need to."

"Oh, I'm going to fuck him," Derek assures him, making Spencer whine pitifully, and roll his hips back. "Be good." He chastises as he slips his fingers out and takes off his pants.

"Promise, promise," Spencer begs as Derek uses one of the many, many condoms on the table.

Aaron looks to you. "Mind if I put that sharing theory to the test?"

You gulp, your mouth drying up. Just seeing Derek fuck Spencer is going to be hot, but throw in Aaron as well? Yup, that could be straight out of a sex dream. "Go for it." You say weakly.

Aaron holds you tightly to him, not wanting you to feel left out. He leans down to kiss Spencer like he had done with you while you take his pants off for him.

You kiss up his neck as he does so until you can whisper into his ear, "Proud of you."

He knows what you mean because he told you all about his abusive, poor excuse for a father who hated that he liked boys, as well as girls, and beat him into repression.

He stands back up again, locking eyes with Derek before they both push inside Spencer. His moans without a cock in his mouth must be impressive because even with Aaron hitting the back of his throat, he's loud

Derek stays in him, unmoving for him to adjust to the size of his thick cock. Aaron doesn't, starting with shallow thrusts into his mouth. "Guide him." He tells you, taking your hand and threading it through Spencer's hair.

When he nods, you do so, tightly grasping his hair to make him whimper around Aaron's length, which, in turn, makes him groan. Derek's thrusts implement much more movement of Spencer's mouth around Aaron than your fingers do, but you keep them there because he looks so pretty that you can't help the need to touch him.

Aaron's head tilts to you when Spencer can no longer keep his eyes open, and he kisses you more passionately that time, tongue slipping into your mouth and teeth clashing. It's rough, and all that you want from him.

"I want you to cum in my mouth." You tell him when you both have to pull back to get some air, breathless.

He tears his eyes away from you, tugging Spencer off him, hopefully, to oblige your request. Spencer actually looks upset, like he's done something wrong, and Aaron quickly assures him that it's quite the opposite. "You did so well." Then he looks up at Derek, who's pounding into Spencer. "You were right."

Spencer mewls at the praise, and you're too focused on how cute he looks to notice Aaron's expression darkening until he pushes you to the floor. His hand rests against your cheek before he pulls back and slaps you so lightly it's almost a stroke.

"Making demands isn't cute." He warns, darkened eyes staring into your soul.

He's perfect in any form, but the back-and-forth repartee, you winding him up and his retaliations, continues to get you hot and bothered. "So you don't want to cum in my mouth?" You ask. "Because this." You pause to stroke pump his length, coated with Spencer's spit, up and down. "Says otherwise." He groans from you stroking your finger over the tip, and you decide he's in a position compromised enough for you to push him more. "Still got tough enough to follow through on your promise of shutting me up?"

"Yes." His voice snaps at the same time his hips do into your mouth. You flatten your tongue along the underside of his cock, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can.

He's rougher with you than he was with Spencer, but he doesn't push into your mouth too far, aware of his size. He tangles his fingers through your hair, pulling it up into a ponytail so he can thrust in and out of your mouth. You don't go against his rhythm, but you take more of his cock down your throat each time, and by his raised eyebrows, impressing him greatly.

On the bed next to you, Derek has Spencer in the exact position he was in on the couch, fucking him lighter than before, teasing Spencer by not letting him cum. It doesn't stop him from loudly moaning, meeting Derek's thrusts by rocking his hips back.

You only have to gag a few times around Aaron's length, fondle his balls, and wink at him before he's coating your throat with another type of his bodily fluids.

As promised, you keep your lips wrapped around him as you swallow all of his warm cum, winking up at him. "Good?" You ask as you pull off, but you already have your answer from the look on his face.

"I mean, Spencer got me most of the way there." He jokes with you, looking back at Spencer on the bed, who's getting railed into next week with the pace of Derek's thrusts.

When he helps you up, you punch him on the shoulder. "You jerk."

"I'm going to fuck you later." He promises, wrapping his arm around your waist and leaning forward to kiss you again. That time, you pull away from the kiss, grab his jaw, and spit into his mouth, no doubt letting him taste his own cum. He groans after you do so. "Play with Spencer." He insists, pushing you onto the bed.

Cruelly, Derek's pulling out of Spencer, having cum inside him without letting him cum.

Aaron goes to sit on the armchair in the room, needing a moment before he fulfills his next promise, and you stand at the edge of the bed.

You cup Spencer's cheeks at the edge of the bed while he stands up on his knees, rocking slightly. "So precious." You coo, smiling at his fucked-out state. He's painfully hard, and you love to tease.

Derek comes to stand behind you after disposing of his condom, completely naked, and he starts kissing your neck. You reach around to feel the muscles of his stomach, having seen them without being able to touch so many times. Your lips stay on Spencer's, gauging how submissive he is by how much control of the kiss he's giving you.

Derek and Spencer lift your shirt over your head together, both of them kissing every inch of bare skin while the compliments flow. Derek takes Spencer's hand from your waist, holding it against the clasp of your bra.

"Take it off her." He prompts before chuckling. "If you know how."

Spencer huffs, turning back to glare at him. "I've taken bras off before." He declares.

"I'm teasing, silly," Derek says, moving his hand off Spencer's in favor of cupping his cheek.

You move slightly out of the way when you see the look in Spencer's eyes, probably mirroring Derek's. It's a desire for more than the physical side of sex. There's an emotional longing, and you watch right next to you as Derek pulls his face closer. He doesn't hesitate to dive in and kiss him for the first time.

You cup Derek's cheek as they kiss, proud of him for overcoming the traumas of his childhood, like you're proud of Aaron for doing the same thing. From your glance at Aaron in the corner, you know he's thinking the same thing, and you can also see his longing for Spencer.

Derek and Spencer's kiss only lasts a few seconds, although you're sure it won't be the only one of the night. Then Aaron's up standing again, determined to tease Spencer since you're too stunned to.

Derek's hands leave you and he takes Aaron's seat, watching you three work in tandem. Aaron undoes your bra with the help of Spencer's hand before they each squeeze one of your tits.

You throw your head back onto Aaron's shoulder when he pinches at your nipple. "Responsive." He praises, enjoying toying with you.

When you look down, Spencer's looking at you like your tits are the first pair he's ever seen, totally astonished. "You're so beautiful." He tells you sweetly.

"You are, sweetheart." You reply. "Such pretty moans, too."

Aaron's voice in your ear surprises you, his body heat making your knees weak. "Want to hear more?" He offers.

"What? You're going to fuck Spencer before me?" You complain. Just the words make Spencer whimper, and you don't blame him. You can't wait to have his cock in you either.

Aaron's hand travels upwards until it's resting against your throat, and he squeezes as lightly as he had slapped you, experimental. You rock your hips back against his.

"Yup, I'm sticking to an order." He scolds you. "Suck it up and wait or get nothing."

Playing him is what you do well, and you whimper softly. "I'll wait." You agree, moving out of the way so he can kiss Spencer. When he's distracted by his cock stirring, you walk over to where Derek's sitting.

"Hi, baby." He says, looking up at you as one of his hands curls around the back of your thigh. You catch the glances he's sneaking, indiscreetly, at your tits. "Come here to seduce your second choice?"

"Never my second choice, Der." You assure him. "I do think it's only fair I get fucked at some point."

He nods in agreement. "I do think that's very reasonable. But to avoid Hotch's wrath at me having you first, I'm going to need some persuading."

You can give that to him easily, especially when he's getting hard from staring at your tits.

You rest his hands on your waist, shocked, like you were with Aaron's, at how big they are against your skin. "Unlike the lap dances I'm sure you usually get, you can touch me." You tell him.

"Baby, there's no competition." He assures you, that signature Derek Morgan smirk directed at you. It fills you with confidence, and there is no confidence boost like one coming from someone as charming as him.

You're determined to make it fantastic anyway, moving your body sensually against his. You run your hands down his chest, feeling those delicious rock-hard abs before rolling your ass against his cock. With a wide smile, he just watches you, hands following your movements. Turning your head to the side, you suck on his neck like he had been doing to yours.

You get sidetracked by Spencer's beautiful mouth and its sounds again. He's getting his prostate pummeled by Aaron, eyes rolled back so far into his head that you’re sure they’ll stay like that.

"Want a turn?" He offers you, noticing how turned on you are from watching everyone fuck Spencer.

"Please." You beg, placing your hand on top of his, and pushing it up your thigh.

He squeezes your thigh, turning you around. His fingers drag the zip of your skirt down, and you step out of it when it lands on the floor, nude aside from your underwear.

"God." He mutters, eyes all over your figure. "You are gorgeous." You grin at him, spinning around. "Going to believe me next time I tell you that?" He asks, pulling you closer to him by your hips before grabbing the back of your knees, so you're kneeling on either side of his thighs.

You laugh. "Yeah, maybe I will."

"Going to ride me? Or I can fuck you into that mattress." He offers, fingers moving across your lower stomach, barely nudging the waistband of your panties.

You look behind at Aaron and Spencer, and you have your answer. "There."

Derek doesn't struggle to pick you up as he gets up, his hardened cock resting against the wettest spot of your panties. He dumps you onto the mattress, standing back to take your panties off.

When he goes to grab a condom, you stop him. "You don't have to." You tell him gently. "I'm clean and on birth control."

He grins at you, hands back on your hips as he pulls you to the edge of the mattress. You wrap your legs around him to bring him closer, and his cock nudges your clit.

He strokes your slit, smirking at how wet you are before pressing into your hole. "Need a warm-up?"

You shake your head decisively. "No. Just fuck me, please, Derek."

"Since you asked so nicely." He agrees, lining his cock up before pushing into you.

You both moan in unison at the instant pleasure. Somehow, he feels thicker than he looks, taking up every inch of space inside you. Each vein has a delightful feeling against your walls.

"Fuck, can you feel how tight you are?" He asks, mostly rhetorically.

"Y-yeah." You answer with a shaky breath as he sinks fully inside you. "Holy shit, Derek."

He still has that grin on his face that you love, and it's so attractive. "Yeah, baby, I know." He agrees. Leaning down to whisper in your ear, the slight stubble that's grown out on his face tickles your skin. "Look at him."

The him is Spencer next to you, head thrown back against Aaron's shoulder while he gets fucked basically upright. You haven't been drowning out his moans, just focusing on the feeling of Derek inside you, but they're louder than before.

"Going to be a good boy and cum?" Aaron asks him, cutting himself off with a loud groan.

Spencer's nodding frantically, blubbering about how close he is. He's so pretty like that, hair sticking to his forehead. You and Derek watch as his muscles tighten, and he cums on his stomach. Aaron pulls out of him without coming. Hopefully, saving it for you.

Aaron lets him drop onto his back on the bed, and you touch his cheek gently. Derek, picking his thrusts up, draws your attention back to him, and you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him closer.

With his pace, you don't even realize Aaron's hovering over you until he taps your cheek. Instinctively, you open your mouth, unsure of what he's about to do. Then he lets a long trail of his saliva mixed with Spencer's cum that he must have cleaned up into your mouth. You moan at the taste and position you're in.

Derek picks up his thrusts inside you, cock gliding in and out of you with ease. "What's got you so wet, baby?" He coos, grabbing your hips tighter. "Me, Spencer, Aaron? All of us?"

"Everything." You answer. "Please, keep going. And faster!"

He gives you just what you want, quickening his rhythmic pace and hitting a spot so deep inside you that you aren't sure you've ever felt it before.

You chant his name in time with his thrusts, tightening your legs around him, and your stomach muscles tighten involuntarily as you cum on his cock, clenching around him.

"Where'd you want it, lovely?" He asks, voice strained. He must be so close to coming because he doesn't try to hide it.

"In me." You answer without any hesitation. The enthusiastic grin you send him does him in, stilling entirely inside you as he pumps you full of his cum.

When he pulls out, you're still breathless, unsure of if you're just waking up from a dream or not. Derek kissing you again makes it real.

You're still seeing stars when Aaron's hands grip your thighs, and when you finally open your eyes, he's standing where Derek was before. He's sitting with Spencer now, getting some water to cool down.

"You okay?" He checks.

"Yes." You assure him.

With the dark lust in his eyes, all bets are off. "Good, you're going again."

That's all the warning he gives you before sliding fully into you. He feels different from Derek, probably longer, but not by much. The overstimulation has you squirming, writhing against the comforter with a massive excess of pleasure.

Whether it's Derek's cum or just how aroused you are, you take the number one spot on his list.

"Fuck, Aaron, Jesus Christ." The moans slip from your mouth loudly.

He's keeping one hand against your waist and the over snatches your jaw. "That dirty mouth will get you in trouble one day." He assures you.

You scoff, but it comes out as a light sigh. "After all the things I've had in my mouth tonight, you think that's dirty?" You get the words out between moans.

"Can't even make smart remarks without moaning. Pathetic." He says, shaking his head in faux judgment. He adores it and knows you love it by how much you tighten around him.

"Can't even shut my smart mouth up properly." You retaliate, getting a brutal thrust in reply.

He doesn't say anything as his hand creeps onto your throat, but he challenges your statement by squeezing tight enough that you probably would struggle to talk if you were in a position to think coherently.

"Knew that would work like a charm." He gloats, smirking at you. "Am I going to have to do that every time you get mouthy?"

"Yeah- fuck- that'll work." You agree.

Before you realize it, he has your feet above your head, thighs resting on his chest. It means he can get even deeper inside you, giving you the long thrusts he was giving Spencer, rearranging your guts.

"Aaron!" You moan, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts.

"Feel so perfect squeezing around me." He compliments.

You notice the little bump in your lower stomach when you look down at where you're connected, and you take one of his hands so he can feel it.

It drives him over the edge, pumping you full of his cum like Derek had, both of their ejaculates mixing together. You were close to reaching that wonderful peak as well, and you hit him on the shoulder for not letting you finish when you realize it was intentional.

"Spencer," Aaron calls him over, maneuvering you like you're a rag doll so you're laying on the bed properly with your head propped up on the pillow.

Spencer crawls between your legs, arms wrapping around your thighs. Just his hot breath against you drives you insane.

"We've got to see if his skills transfer," Aaron explains, tangling his fingers in Spencer's curls as he pushes his lips against your slit. Not wanting to waste any of Derek or Aaron's cum, Spencer starts lapping up all that's spilling out of you.

"And give her another." Derek backs you up, sitting next to you, so he can fondle for tits. "How did these get so criminally neglected?" He does something about it and leans down to suck on them, intent on leaving reminders of your fun evening.

Spencer is, as promised, good with his mouth. He's got to perfect amount of pressure with his tongue, and he splits his focus, in a pleasure-inducing ratio, between your clit and your hole.

After Aaron previously fucking you, Derek's teeth scraping the delicate skin of your tits, and Spencer's talented lips, it doesn't take much building before you're on the edge, pushed by a single look at a specific one of them.

You lay there spent, passion coursing through your veins. You don't move until Aaron's hand gently lifts your head up, and he holds Spencer's water glass to your lips, all the ice melted.

"You okay?" He asks again, looking at you softly.

"So okay." You assure him. "I could go for another five right now. Too bad about your old-man libido."

He rolls his eyes, but it's affectionate. "She's fine." He reports to Derek, who was probably concerned about having taken things too far, although he wasn't the one with his hand around your throat. "What do you need? Food, water, shower?" He offers.

You shake your head. "Just sleep."

"She needs to pee," Spencer reports to Aaron before going into the science of peeing after sex.

You giggle at him as you get up onto your very wobbly legs, and ruffle his hair. "Thanks, genius." You joke before placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Oh, and to stretch," Derek adds. "I did not know you were so flexible."

"You didn't know a lot of things about me." You remind all of them. "And there were lots of things I didn't know about each of you."

"Y/n." Aaron stops you from trying to follow what the doctor advised. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth." You answer, much too tired for a dare.

He's hoping you would pick that anyway because he's got one thought up. "Are you going to use that knowledge again?"

You nod. "Absolutely."

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[broodwolf221]

so we were talking recently about how solas is much better at keeping his secrets than the other characters, and we know bull is one of the most perceptive characters. you've travelled with bull & solas much more than i have, so im curious about your thoughts: do you think bull had any idea? he's able to weed out qunari agents, but do you think he noticed solas'? how do you think bull feels about it, post-trespasser?

rubs my little hands together ty for this, im gonna have funnnn

bull 100% knew something was up. these two bits of banter really seal it for me:

Iron Bull: You've got an odd style, Solas. Your spells are a bit different from the Circle mages or the Vints.

Solas: That comes from being self-taught.

Solas: I discovered most magic on my own, or learned it from my journeys in the Fade.

Iron Bull: I've seen self-taught warriors. Even the good ones have something awkward in their style, something that clunks.

Iron Bull: I don't get that from you. Maybe magic is different.

Solas: Or without magical training, you cannot notice the parts of my magic that "clunk".

Iron Bull: You're not as flashy as most mages, Solas.

Iron Bull: The Tevinter mages I fought in Seheron tried to scare us with what they could do.

Iron Bull: Dorian looks like he's waiting for applause after every spell.

Iron Bull: Vivienne has this little swagger, like she knows she's the most dangerous thing in the room.

Iron Bull: Not the quiet elven mage, though. No frills. Nothing to give you away. Half our targets never even see you coming.

Solas: I shall take that as a compliment.

Iron Bull: If you like.

first, bull does know magic - he gives solas an out, "maybe magic is different," but I think it's just that: an out. one of his first comments is about how cullen is putting his templar training to good use, helping the inquisition soldiers defend against magic, just like bull himself was taught to. he's fought countless mages. solas is dissembling and bull lets him, but I don't buy for a second that he's genuinely fooled

and then the flashy comment. "not the quiet elven mage." bull is so observant... arguably moreso than solas:

Solas: Hmm.

Iron Bull: Something wrong?

Solas: A man in the last village. Something in his manner troubles me.

Iron Bull: The baker with the squint and the red nose? Yeah, spy. Probably Venatori.

Solas: Why do you say that?

Iron Bull: He watched all of us. A normal guy would focus on you, because staff, or me, because horns.

Iron Bull: He had a dagger up his sleeve, which no baker needs, and the knot on his apron was tied Tevinter style.

Iron Bull: I sent a message to Red. She'll investigate.

Solas: You are more observant than you appear.

Iron Bull: The good spies usually are.

so a) he notices everything weird about solas, everything that doesn't match up, and b) he doesn't show what he knows. that's his training coming into play.

I don't think he really knew who or what solas was, though. my suspicion is that he knew solas had his own agenda from the beginning, and like most everyone, knew that solas was keeping his own past a big, deeply-guarded secret. but bull isn't the type to ask direct questions in order to learn, so I think that when he's talking to solas about these things, he's watching him, too. noting the subtle shifts that solas tries to hide or isn't even aware of. hell, bull would learn something from solas having no change of expression or tone, forcibly even and level - because at that point, it's artificial.

so i think throughout the game as they travel, bull is slowly but steadily realizing how much more there is to solas' story. at the same time, he knows that no one is quite as good at keeping secrets as he is, so he wouldn't want to... ask anything too direct, yknow? everything is dancing around the edges of the truth and seeing what comes up, and that is information, usually information the other person didn't mean to give away

varric does this too imo, but not to the extent or with the skill that bull does, nor with the ability to hide everything he knows so, so well.

overall, i think bull was always watching solas. bull's really thrown in with the inquisition, particularly if he becomes tal-vashoth - because at that point, he doesn't really have anywhere to return to (which is tragic). so outside of the advisors and the inquisitor, i think bull is actually one of the inquisition's most steadfast members. but throughout the game, solas does help. a lot. which bull sees, too. hell, solas helps him after he becomes tal-vashoth, it's a really fun banter arc.

bull is suspicious, wary, and watchful, but throughout the main game, solas hasn't done anything overtly hostile or counter to the inquisition's purpose. and ultimately, solas is sorta necessary - he's the only one who can help the inquisitor with the anchor.

as for solas' agents? i'm not sure... but i'm also not sure how many of them there are. if there were a fair number, i think bull would have picked up on it over time, particularly because he tends to hit on the servants more - like, he'd notice them as individuals if for no other reason than his own interest, but also his training comes into play here. but if there were only a few? i think they could've slipped under his radar, particularly because the inquisition grows so quickly that even bull would end up hard-pressed to stay familiar with every single face in the inquisition.

even wrt the qunari agents, it's because he noticed a change in the duty roster and followed up on that, not because he saw them and just Knew from their behavior. he might've been able to suss them out that way had they crossed paths, but crossing paths wasn't guaranteed - at least, not until they tried to kill him. and frankly, i don't think solas would be that sloppy. his agents probably are deeply embedded in the inquisition because so is he. he would know when to have them come in and how they could blend in, even become functioning members of the inquisition, particularly because the inquisition's goals are not directly counter to solas' goals.

post-trespasser? i've written this and in my fic, bull really wasn't surprised at all. i think he would've been if solas got outed as fen'harel/the dread wolf mid-game, but the events of trespasser shed so much light on the reality of the situation, and i don't think bull would've traveled that whole path and not begun to reach that conclusion. solas disappeared for two years ago after fighting corypheus, and now they're mysteriously drawn into an eluvian - elven magic - and pulled through an intricate web of information that exposes the qunari plot?

yeah, i think bull had an inkling solas was behind it at or near the start of their journey through the eluvians.

and there's more, like solas' constant, intense hatred of the qun stripping people of choice - but then, there's a bit of truth in people hating others the most for things they hate about themselves. and bull would know about that, of course. solas does the same thing to blackwall when he's revealed as thom, an ironic judgement considering his own lies, but he hates that he has to lie.

i think for bull, post-trespasser he'd feel... not happy about the situation of course, but sort of satisfied. the pieces finally fell into place, all of them.

[shuttershocky]

Based on my (limited) experiences following the Type Moon fandom, it seems like there's such a wall between the fans of the "OG stuff" (mostly Mahoyo, Tsukihime, Kara no Kyoukai, FSN) and people who started with/also enjoy Grand Order, it looks like such a one sided thing where the fans of the older stuff tend to hate on FGO's writing and whatever it might have done to have done to Type Moon and Nasu's priorities, while the FGO fans just seem to enjoy the story while still being happy enough to support the OG stuff (Mahoyo/TsukiRe english release for example)

That incoherent wall of text is basically set up for me to ask what *you* think of FGO as someone who I imagine came from the older works. I'm curious about how you feel about the writing and stories in particular, from the arcs where Nasu started to be more involved (I haven't played them, but I believe it's Camelot?) since that's where I heard they started to get more elaborate. Do they live up to the experiences you've had with TM's other works?

Sorry for the long question, and I hope you have a great day!

Wow. I've been here for an incredibly long time if people no longer know about how much I used to play FGO.

Anyway, I would say what really sets FGO apart, not just from the rest of Type-Moon but even from other Fate works, is its scale, both in terms of the storytelling and its real life commercial value.

The hate you see many non-FGO playing TM fans have toward FGO is resentment towards how much it has simply taken up Type-Moon as a whole. The Tsukihime Remake was announced all the way back in 2008 and released in 2021 for example, partly because FGO taking off the way it did in 2015 meant it took up all their time and effort. They could not focus on anything else.

As their biggest moneymaker, it also began to warp the production of other works around it, as FGO had now become the main way by which people got into Type-Moon. Therefore, all things had to appeal to FGO fans in order to sell whether that was Fate/Extella Link pulling in FGO cast members like Scathach and Arjuna into the game, or Fate/Apocrypha's anime adaptation including as many FGO cameos as possible like Medea Lily (what was she even doing there lmao).

Of course, just adding FGO references doesn't automatically make something bad. Fate/Samurai Remnant for example has made fantastic use of FGO characters while mixing them in with new ones. However, you also get stuff like Melty Blood Type-Lumina having Saber, Ushiwakamaru, Dantes, and Mash all in the game while old fan favorite Melty Blood characters like Sion and Len are nowhere to be seen. You know that "Wi-fi is okay if you're close to the router" Melty Blood meme? That character Nanaya Shiki isn't even playable in the latest Melty Blood. When you see that and see not one, not two, but THREE FGO characters taking their place (Saber's a free pass), you'd see why there's a lot of resentment built up towards FGO by older Type-Moon fans.

As I said before, the difference isn't just in its commercial scale, but also in its creative one. Even in the most outlandish of settings, Type-Moon works are almost always smaller scale, character-centric pieces. Fate/Extra took place inside a supercomputer on the Moon, but it was about a glitch making an AI fight in a death battle between humans, and how that formerly blank AI feeling danger and wanting to live blurred the lines between what is human and what isn't. Tsuki No Sango (Coral of the Moon) was about a world 3000 years in the future, but the entire thing was a little space man in the palm of a girl's hand, listening to a love story about a man and a computer on the Moon.

For all its many similarities to previous TM works, FGO is still ultimately a save the world type of story. It starts with a demon destroying all of time, and then turns into a death game between entire timelines. It's big, it's bombastic, and it's instantly accessible, the kind of story structure you want to be able to fit the gacha format of an endless stream of new characters while keeping the ship steady with an overarching plot that lets you keep meeting an endless stream of new characters.

That's not really what I'm a TM fan for. I played FGO for its first 3 years, and once they brought out the Lostbelts I realized I was already satisfied and did not want to read yet another big world saving adventure plot all over again. I was pretty happy with how the first arc ended already, so my interest in continuing FGO shriveled up soon after.

Quality wise I'd say FGO is a very mixed bag, inevitable when FGO itself is a mix of very different writers (who themselves can be pretty inconsistent, Nasu included). Plenty of FGO chapters have also been cursed with subpar adaptations (looking at you, Camelot and Babylonia), further muddying the perceived quality of the stories.

I will say when FGO is bad, it's really bad (and often pretty racist), but when it's good, it's really good. For what I consider to be a mediocre baseline, FGO has some incredibly high peaks that rival the best in Type-Moon, and even when something is just okay execution wise (like Shimousa), some of the characters, concepts, and story beats are just so damn cool that they become intensely emotional and impactive all the same and inspire superior adaptations and follow up works (like Shimousa).

That being said, my favorite stories in FGO were the ones that would use much smaller scale, isolated adventures with a far stronger focus on characterization and emotional arcs that follow its thematic ones. Aeaean Spring Breeze is one of the best examples, being a tiny event about helping Circe move on from having been rejected by Odysseus in life, with some incredibly solid character work and a great understanding of how to mix the needs of a light-hearted comedy event with making genuine, emotionally compelling moments from a character that almost never speaks from the heart.