#have to post this already or it's never seeing the light of the day with how much i redraw the lines

[ripinejschu]

Chained Cheater, Chastised - KY10

pairing: kenan yildiz x reader

synopsis: the day before the Turkiye's quarterfinal match in the Euros, Kenan gets involved in a cheating scandal he swears never happened, but reader doesn't want to hear him out and causes Kenan to lose focus. But is he really telling the truth? Pictures don't lie...

wc: 4.2k

cw: tears, cheating allegations, silent treatment

an: first fic on this account!! it feels like it's been forever since I last posted on here; this was written in july btw!! i love writing for kenan

Kenan’s hands shake as he sees the horrifying images on his phone. Weston had sent him a few posts and links about an alleged cheating scandal regarding Kenan, but he had firmly denied it.

Until Weston sent the doctored photos of him all cozied up with some blonde chick, face smirking at the prize he’d gotten for that night. The ones he looks at now, damning and all too natural looking.

Shit, shit, shit–shit runs through his mind.

Who could have done this? Some jealous bitch of course, bitter over his relationship with his beloved girlfriend, who would no doubt see this and feel her heart break.

Somehow, the German media had found out and already written a couple of articles, with the pictures and gossip accounts credited. Not very viable, but once this spreads no one would care beyond what seems so obvious. The photos are right there, picture perfect, but Kenan’s words will never make the public believe the truth, not with these.

He feels trapped. Should he call Weston, plead his case? It would be practice for others, but he knows it’s a futile attempt. Should he call his girlfriend, let her know the rumours and photos aren’t true? By now, they are circulating even on TikTok as he looks at the links, afraid to open them up and see the comment sections.

He’s already going through enough because of everyone’s harsh criticisms of his performances in the Euros lately; he doesn’t need to see what else people are saying.

Career-ruining. That’s what this is. Kenan is already aware of the Italian influence of cheaters, especially with the rumours whispered in the Juventus locker rooms about the Italian beauty Calafiori being a serial cheater  –which Fede had wanted no part of– and now…now it gave the Turkish critics new material to hate on his foreign influence. Already too German, accent thick in his broken Turkish, and now living a lifestyle like the Italians? He doesn’t want to think about it.

Except, the alternative is even worse. What would you say? Sweet and fierce, you’d stood by him when he struggled in games, when he cried in your arms because he never seemed Turkish enough, constantly stumbling over his words and syllables.

But now…shit. He needs to call you immediately and try to clear the air with you before you can see any part of this brewing storm of lies. His hands shake as he finds your contact in his Favourites folder, hesitating before he presses down on your name. Your smiling face lights up his screen, a photo of you hugging Ramos, whose tongue lolled happily.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings, before it goes to voicemail. No worries, right? Maybe you’re in the bathroom or you have your phone on silent. He waits a minute, staring at the screen before trying again.

It immediately goes to voicemail. Oh no.

Kenan knows you know, but you need to hear his defense straight from him. He texts you, mumbling a prayer that the text will go through and you’ll answer before you decide to block him.

He types, and erases the words. Types again, and erases the words again. Nothing seems good enough; it all sounds like a pathetic plea of a man caught red-handed, but you need to hear it.

He settles on the following: “Y/N listen to me please. There are a couple of photos on the internet of me and a blonde girl cuddling, but I promise wallahi it’s not real. I’ve never looked at any other girl with desire during our whole relationship I swear. This is fake, please believe me. Call me when you can, so we can figure this out together. Please.”

It’s not the best but still, it will do. His hands begin to shake again as he presses send, waiting, waiting…

Delivered. You hadn’t blocked him. You’re not even on Do Not Disturb, so you did get the notification. Kenan puts his phone on Personal to block every notification but yours and waits for you to respond, but as the minutes tick by and he begins to pace, phone silent in his pocket, he doesn't hear the sound of a text come through.

Until now. He whips out his phone only to see a barrage of texts in Personal, with Arda’s pushed through, hence the text sound. Dusan, Weston, Timothy. But not you.

He reads through the messages, confusion and anger mixing together. Arda is asking what is going on, Dusan is demanding if it’s true and why he would do such a thing, his texts growing angrier at Kenan’s stupidity, Timothy’s calling him a “fucking idiot” and Weston is wondering why Kenan isn’t responding to his texts and can he please let him know what’s going on.

Hakan’s text comes in at the top: “Call me IMMEDIATELY” is written on the notification, and Kenan gulps. Part of him wants to ignore him, partially in case you call him, but with his career on the line at such a young age, he knows he needs to talk to his captain, especially with tomorrow’s quarterfinal match looming over him.

He again goes to the phone app, looking longingly at yours that still has no response, and calls Hakan.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Kenan, what the fuck is going on? Please tell you you’re not so stupid as to get involved in a  scandal? And now, with our reputation on the line, yours especially?” Kenan winces, but Hakan continues. “You know there’s a game tomorrow, right? We have to focus on the wondrous Holland, not this relationship drama, a whole scandal, Kenan. What were you thinking?”

Kenan gulps again as he feels tears begin to sting his eyes. He needs Hakan to believe him, but he struggles to get his words out.

“Hakan, I promise it’s not what you think. They’re n-not real, I would n-never do that. P-please, you have to believe me!”

Kenan doesn’t realize he’s crying until Hakan’s tone softens, comforting the young man. “Kenanım, it’s okay, we’ll get through this. You’re a young man, we can easily work this out. Don’t cry. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Kenan lets out a loud sob, unable to keep quiet anymore. He should feel humiliated, crying on the phone with his mature, older captain, but he can’t keep it in anymore.

You ignoring his calls and messages, the anger from his teammates, his career threatening to fall apart, it’s too much for the teen. He collapses on the floor of his hotel room sobbing, phone falling from his hand as he cries his eyes out.

At some point, he feels two warm bodies encapsulate him from both sides, arms wrapping around his crumpled form, and he cries into someone’s chest with their heart beating steadily.

“Sh-she’s not answering me. I t-tried telling her i-it’s not real b-but she won’t a-answer m-me,” he cries between sobs, unsure of what language he’s speaking because either way, it comes out broken.

He feels an arm rubbing his back, a voice soothingly shushing him, and an embrace holding him as his tears finally subside enough not to blind him. He cautiously lifts his head to look up into Hakan’s eyes.

His captain rocks him slightly as he looks down at the boy’s tear-stricken face before tucking a stray lock of hair behind Kenan’s ear. He lets out another sob, remembering how you would do the same, amusement sparking up your eyes as he would giggle like a princess.

“I’ve got you, Kenan. I told you it’ll be okay and we’ll work this out, I mean it.” Kenan takes a moment to catch his breath, before trying to sit up a little more, back against the wall.

He startles when he sees Kerem sitting on the floor in front of him and Bariş sitting on the bed, and when he turns his head he sees Arda hugging him from behind.

He carefully reaches up and holds his hand, and Arda squeezes it in response. Kenan takes a deep breath, looking back at Hakan. “Weston told me a-about this. He sent those photos of me and that girl but it’s not real I swear. I don't even go to clubs or drink or anything, I’m Muslim for god sake!”

He feels Arda rest his head on his upper back and continues. “I tried telling y/n they aren’t real, th-that someone must’ve faked them but she isn’t answering me. I tried c-calling her but she didn't pick up my calls. I don't know what else to do.”

Arda glances at the men across the room before looking pointedly at Kerem’s phone, who nods in acknowledgement. “We’ll try to help, okay Kenan? Try to focus on tomorrow’s match in training tonight, we need you and you’ll also feel better.”

Arda wishes Kenan’s best friend Can Uzun is here to comfort Kenan and figure out what to do,  but he decides to try and take action as Kenan’s elder. They all know this is going to mess with Kenan’s head so bad it could cost them the match tomorrow, where he would be looking for you in the stands instead of at the ball.

Hakan takes Kenan early to training to let himself get more comfortable without so many eyes on him at once. Kenan is grateful for this as he doesn’t want to face everyone who must think he’s some disgusting playboy or some saboteur against the team.

He keeps his head down when the others join in, immersing himself in field drills and partnerwork with Arda, who he’s incredibly grateful for. The older boy doesn’t judge, and his quietness is a slight comfort in the raging mess of his head.

Arda and a few other teammates had tried reaching out to you on Kenan’s behalf, but their efforts were in vain. Kenan tries to be grateful for this, but it only breaks his heart more despite the small sense of family in the team he still struggles to fit in to.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

You look at the dozen or so texts from Kenan’s teammates, trying to persuade you to just call Kenan and sort everything out. It takes everything in you not to hurl your phone at the wall and scream curses upon Kenan’s name.

How dare he do this to you, go out to some dirty club and get cozy with some homewrecking blonde bitch? The look on her face, oh, she knew what she was doing with this taken man, and the taken man, Kenan, oh!

Oh, the things you wanted to scream at him, to hurl at his stupid face with that infuriating smirk he always wore, including the damned photos.

Lord, may he be damned forever. Curse his hands and more importantly, his feet.

The second you had seen those photos, sent by your friend in the form of a post on one of those football gossip accounts, your phone had fallen out of your hand, too shocked to react. Thankfully, the hotel carpet had saved it from cracking, which might have been the final nail in this terrible day.

You had not known what to do for a few minutes, only staring down at the photo looking up at you before your emotions kicked in and you screamed, sinking onto the floor as tears streamed down your face.

Kenan, who is supposed to be your Kenan, isn’t truly in love with you. Sure, he whispers promises and kisses and everything to make you fall for him so blisteringly, but it seemed like all those kisses had now left painful blisters everywhere, and you needed to escape your own skin.

You weren’t sure how long you’d stayed there until then your phone rang, snapping you out of your bubble of tears. You’d seen Kenan’s bright smile flashing across the screen, and had let it ring to voicemail. His name had flashed again and this time you’d immediately declined the call.

It felt like you couldn’t breathe as finally, a text came through, pleading his innocence and begging for you to call him. You’d ignored it.

Instead, you had called your friend who was also staying in Germany for the Euros, albeit to support Spain, and prayed she would pick up. She did, immediately asking you what was going on, and later she’d told you you’d simply screamed into the phone before breaking down in sobs, and she’d understood immediately.

She had picked you up from your hotel, knocking incessantly at your door trying to prove it wasn’t Kenan until you’d opened it, and she had immediately got to work. She’d dried your tears, helped you wash your face before applying some moisturizer and light eyeliner to look somewhat put-together, and brewed you some tea, not Turkish of course.

Then she’d taken you out to a cafe nearby, making you leave your phone behind at the hotel to give yourself some space between you and the vicious Internet. She’d bought matcha lattes and pastries for the two of you, telling you not to worry about paying her back.

After a walk in the warm, fresh air of the late afternoon, sipping on matcha and her trash-talking Kenan, you’d both returned to the hotel, spirits lifted just a little, now sitting on the bed looking at the several missed calls and texts from Kenan’s teammates.

They’re full of pleading, telling you the photos aren't real and someone incredibly jealous of your relationship must have photoshopped them and spread them around, and that Kenan needs you. Kerem, however, made the mistake of saying that Kenan’s distractions would be a liability in tomorrow’s vital game, but you cannot have cared less.

Arda’s texts, however, are very sweet, and honestly almost convince you to reach out to Kenan. Arda knows how much you and Kenan mean to each other, and that you two should try talking to each other, even it nothing good comes out fo it because how much worse can it get? A change made would mean reconciling…or breaking up with him.

Your friend scoffs, however. “It’s their job to defend their teammate, do you really think they’re being genuine? I’m all for talking it out with Kenan but hello, pictures don’t lie.”

She’s right, you’d scrutinized every part of the photo and it looked so, so real. There were no weird edges or miscolouration, and the expressions…

You grab the remote and turn on the TV, flicking through channels. Most are in German, except for some boat show in Italian.

You settle on a German version of HGTV, watching the people struggle to find a home within their budget, and take a cold slice of pizza.

A few episodes in, you turn to your friend. “I’ve thought about it, and I’ve made my decision. I’m not going to the game tomorrow. I don’t care how much it ‘affects Kenan’s mind’”–you put this in air quotes–“but he should’ve thought about affecting my own mind before he did that.”

The snarl surprised the both of you, but you don't regret the viciousness of your implication.

You don’t care if Kenan will have a bad game or if that meant Türkiye would lose tomorrow, he should’ve cared about you as much as you cared about him.

Your friend bites her lip, looking a little cautious. “I…I think you should talk to him and see what he has to say. Clearly, that text didn’t say everything. There’s a reason you love him–”

“Loved him,” you interrupt. “Stop it, I already told you I’m not interested. If he wants to be a playboy, fine, I’m not going to stop him.”

Your friend nods quietly, turning back to the TV and finishing the pizza before you both call it a night and she heads out.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

You wake up early for the hotel breakfast, not wanting to miss out on a free meal due to your depression.

After a quick German breakfast of fresh fruits, a salmon and cream cheese bagel, bread rolls and a boiled egg, you head back to your room to figure out what to do for the day.

Of course, your initial plan was to attend the Türkiye football match, but that was not happening anymore.

After deciding on an enticing art museum, you get ready, picking out a cute outfit and applying your makeup with some matching eyeshadow.

Then you realize, you didn’t check your notifications after being on DND all night. You open it up to see dozens more texts and missed calls from Kenan, his teammates, your friends and even your own parents, all asking where you are and what is going on and can you please just talk to Kenan? His texts are the worst, growing even more desperate and begging for just one chance at a conversation.

You ignore everyone, assuming they’ll understand why you’re blowing them off. You focus back at the main task at hand, preparing for the day.

You pick up your purse, not having used it for the past couple of days and rummage through it to find a certain lip oil.

That is, until the sound of metal clinks loudly, louder than it should. You think it’s the bag chain but it shouldn’t have been that loud, so you dump your purse onto your bed and–

–what is that…another chain? You pick up the silver chain and realize whose it is. You had practically torn it off Kenan in a heated make-out session a few days ago and had forgotten to return it to him afterwards.

The sweet memory and physical item fills you with a sudden rage and you almost hurl it at the window until–wait a second.

Wait. A. Second.

You're hit with a strange sensation as if there’s something important you need to figure out. The chain…Kenan didn’t bring another chain to Berlin, just the one he usually wears. You were there when he’d packed his things, and he’d wanted to keep it minimal so he wouldn’t lose things, not when his mind was completely elsewhere.

But the chain…you have his only chain. And something about it doesn’t make sense.

Pushing your fear aside, you quickly find the damned photos. It’s like the picture is playing a game with you. You zoom in to Kenan’s chest–any other time you’d blush and hope he wasn’t in the room watching you blush– when you see it. A little sparkle of light reflected off a silver chain.

Just enough of the chain is exposed through his unbuttoned shirt to compare it. You hold the one in your hand up to the phone, really looking and…yes! They are the same!

There is one more thing, however, the timeline. Could this photo have been taken before you ripped Kenan’s chain off?

It isn’t hard to establish it. The girl’s phone screen was lit up to 12:13 am, and above it, you could barely make the words out: Thursday, July 4.

This was “taken” after your make-out session. Unless Kenan magically grew an identical chain, the Kenan in the photo could not have been him.

The relief hits you like a crowd surging towards the fields after a Juventus win, almost drowning you of air and senses and yet you stay on your feet, breathing hard.

Oh god. Kenan really was trying to tell you the truth, that he hadn’t cheated on you at all. You look at the clock on the bedside table; you have enough time.

You change into your Türkiye jersey, making sure the “YILDIZ” is visible on the back, before changing your eyeshadow and heading out.

With the chain of course.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

An utter horror. You still hadn’t uttered a word of response to Kenan, who is freaking out still. He’d slept horrifically, only catching a few hours when Hakan came at Arda’s insistence to force-feed him some melatonin pills, and the lack of sleep is now quite visible on Kenan’s face.

Eyebags dark, cheekbones bare, Kenan looks like a complete mess. Hakan had tried calming him down, along with Arda and a few others, but nothing was getting through to Kenan.

Even now, Arda tries to get his attention on the field in the pre-match training by throwing a football at Kenan’s head, but it just bounces off him with no reaction.

Shit.

Before long, kickoff is about to start and everyone’s heart beat nervously. Would they be able to hold off the Netherlands?

Would Kenan be able to focus?

Kenan keeps glancing at the stands, trying to find you in the crowds, but he can’t.

The little hope he had left fizzles out, and suddenly he feels so very dead inside. Too much to focus on the ball, which flies past him when he should’ve intercepted it.

The game begins great for Türkiye, with the leading goal giving them hope, but Kenan’s performance sticks out like a sore thumb. He winces when they go inside and gets a few glares from his teammates, but Arda sticks with him as he tries to make himself look small in the corner as Montella gives them an update on their game plan.

When he heads back out, embracing a few teammates, something catches his eye. It’s a flash of pink, standing out from the crowd of red.

There is no way.

You’re in the stands, a few rows from the front, wearing his jersey over a pink blouse. He stops in his tracks in shock as he sees you after such a long bout of silence.

Kenan thought you hated him, yet here you are in full support of him and his country. Arda comes up next to him in confusion until he catches the bright pink sticking out.

“I don’t think she’s here for anyone else. You want to make it up to her by playing well?” Kenan looks at him in amusement, a sparkle returning to his eyes.

Kenan’s performance improves almost immediately. He’s more active on the ball, creating better chances, intercepting passes, and overall impacting the Turkish side for the better.

It isn’t enough though, when his shot is easily saved by the Dutch goalkeeper and the game ends in a 1-2 loss.

Tired, sweaty, and heartbroken, the Turkish dream of success comes crashing down around them. The Red Sea of fans watch in silent disappointment, as the players droop down, disappointed in their performance, knowing they could’ve done better.

Yet, the pride of going this far, behind their fans a shared sense of culture and joy prevails, which will soon be evident after the immediate post-match depression.

And for Kenan, well, he turns towards the shining source of hope he’d been praying would show up.

You look at him as he gazes up at you from the bench area, exhausted, disappointed and yet, relieved. Relieved that you came to his match, despite the silent treatment.

And you’re there for him when he comes out of the locker rooms and immediately wraps his arms around you. He hesitates at the very last moment but you surge forward, squeezing him tight and he squeezes even harder, afraid to let you go.

After what seems like forever, you tilt your head up to make eye contact with Kenan. “I wasn’t going to come, you know. I was so mad at you. I thought after all this time, you’d decided to just throw it all away.”

Kenan looks at you with worry, but you continue. “But there’s a reason I came. I decided to go out today and obviously, I wanted to dress up. You know I love putting on my lip oils.”

You reach into your purse and pull out Kenan’s chain, and he startles. “I found this in my purse. That’s when I kind of realized something, but I had to double-check. Kenan, you were wearing this in those photos. But that’s impossible because I have it. Baby, I know they’re fake and I know it’s not your fault.”

Kenan doesn’t mean to cry. He stares at you first, trying to comprehend your words, until he feels you wipe away the tears that started falling. He pulls you close and buries his face in the crook of your neck as he sobs, and you hold him, rubbing his back steadily.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to happen, you d-didn’t deserve this,” he manages between sobs, and you shush him quietly. “I know baby, I know. I believe you, I should’ve talked to you sooner. I should’ve believed you. I can still trust you, right?” You feel him nod, “Yeah, please.”

You two stand there a little longer before Kenan lifts his head and smiles, relief flooding every crevice of his face at having you and your trust back. You return it before he takes your hand and leads you out into the setting sun, the rays of daylight washing over you like a golden love.

dividers by: @cafekitsune

[missarchive]

motel six

spencer reid

cw; spencer reid x fem!reader, spencer gets caught jacking off, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, softdom!reader, sub!spencer, one bed troupe, oral (m. receiving), aftercare, unprotected p in v, spencer’s a little desperate and awkward (what’s new)

an; HIII ALLL!!! This is based on an ask I received earlier this month, but I have had a few similar ones so I finally made a fic for them. The truth is that I have been seeing a beautiful woman and she is taking up most of my time. BUT- I managed to sneak this one in. I will start posting more consistently again now that my writer’s block has finally disappeared. As always, please leave some feedback if you liked it (if you didn’t just know you’re stepping on my hopes and dreams). Love and miss u guys xoxo

wc; around 3k

Your stomach twists. A long day chasing leads and poring over case files has already left you drained, and now you have to share a room with someone? You glance around at your teammates, who are pairing off with little hesitation. Morgan claims a room with Rossi. Hotch and JJ take another. Emily and Garcia get the third. That leaves…

You turn your head just as Spencer Reid—resident genius, profiler extraordinaire, and your usual case partner—adjusts the strap of his bag with an unmistakable grimace. His hazel eyes dart to yours before flicking away, his jaw tightening.

Of course.

"Looks like it's you and me, Reid," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he nods stiffly and brushes past you toward the room number scribbled on the keycard sleeve. Your stomach sinks further, but you push down the unease and follow.

The room is as underwhelming as expected: beige walls, scratchy-looking blankets, and a single queen bed shoved against one side. A rickety wooden chair sits near the window, but otherwise, the space is cramped.

Spencer stops in the doorway, his whole body tensing. "You take the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair."

You frown. "Reid, that thing looks like it’ll collapse if you breathe on it too hard. We can just—"

"I said I’ll sleep in the chair," he snaps, dropping his go-bag by the door.

The sharpness in his voice catches you off guard. Spencer is always a little awkward, sometimes distant, but rarely outright rude. You watch as he rubs his temple, his jaw clenched so tightly you wonder if he might crack a tooth. He looks… angry. At you?

"Okay," you say slowly. "Did I do something?"

"No," he bites out. "Just drop it."

You exhale sharply, irritation flaring. "Spencer, we’re both exhausted. If something’s wrong, you can just—"

"Just leave it alone, Y/N."

His words are clipped, final. You stare at him for a moment, searching his face for an answer, but he won’t meet your gaze. The room suddenly feels suffocating.

Fine. If he wants to be an ass, let him.

"I’m going outside," you mutter, grabbing your jacket. "Maybe by the time I get back, you’ll have figured out how to use your words like an adult."

You don’t wait for a response before stepping out into the cool night air.

The motel parking lot is nearly empty, save for the team's vehicles and a couple of semi-trucks parked along the far end. You breathe in the crisp air, letting it wash away some of the frustration bubbling inside you.

Spencer’s behavior isn’t just annoying—it stings. You thought the two of you were friends. Sure, he can be awkward and distant, but he’s never been outright cruel before. Whatever is bothering him, he clearly doesn’t want to share it with you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the cold seeps through your thin jacket. After a few minutes, your irritation starts to wane, replaced by exhaustion. You don’t have the energy to stay mad, and honestly, all you want is to collapse into bed and sleep for at least twelve hours.

With a sigh, you make your way back toward the room. The hallway is silent, the only sound your footsteps against the aging carpet. You reach for the door handle but freeze as a muffled noise seeps through the thin walls.

A low, breathy moan.

Your heart stutters.

You strain to listen, barely breathing as another quiet sound follows—one you recognize immediately.

A strangled gasp, unmistakably Spencer’s.

Heat rushes to your face as your brain supplies every possible explanation, each one more embarrassing than the last. You should walk away. You should turn around and pretend you never heard anything. But your hand stays frozen on the doorknob, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Another moan drifts through the door, this one louder. You swallow against the sudden lump in your throat.

"Fuck," Spencer gasps. "O-oh god— please."

His voice is low, rough. Desperate.

You grip the doorknob tighter, debating for what feels like an eternity. Should you walk away? Or—

You ease the door open, pressing your hand against it as if to stop yourself from charging forward. Spencer’s back is to you, his head thrown back as he works himself over, his hand moving in rapid strokes.

You can’t help it—you step further into the room, drinking in the sight of him.

He’s sprawled on the bed, shirtless and pale in the moonlight filtering through the blinds. His arm muscles are tense, sweat dripping down the side of his face. The blanket is thrown back, revealing his naked lower half: his long legs, his perfect hands—

His cock, thick and wet between his fingers.

You feel a rush of arousal at the sight, your blood pulsing hot. This is so wrong. So inappropriate. He’s your teammate, for god’s sake, and yet—

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to walk away.

Spencer's hips jerk upwards, his body shuddering with pleasure. "Y/N," he gasps again, his head falling back against the pillow. His eyelids flutter shut, his brows drawn together.

"Y/N, fuck, please—" His hand moves faster, stroking himself with a rough desperation that makes your breath hitch. You can’t look away as he thrusts against his grip, his hips writhing, his spine arched.

"Ah- fuck," he gasps, his body tensing, his fist tightening around himself. His mouth falls open, his eyes squeezing shut as he comes with a strangled moan.

You press your hand over your mouth, holding back a whimper of your own as you watch him.

Spencer sags against the mattress, his chest heaving. He's so fucking beautiful, and—

And you’re still standing here, watching him.

Your eyes dart to his face, and your stomach plummets as he turns his head.

He opens his eyes, and you meet his gaze across the room.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

Then you both leap into action.

He scrambles upright, fumbling for the blanket to cover himself. You jump backward, tripping over the threshold and landing hard on your ass.

"Shit," you hiss, wincing at the pain that shoots up your tailbone. "Shit. I—fuck, I’m sorry. I should—"

"Y/N," Spencer says in a strangled voice. "I—I thought you were gone. I didn’t know you were—"

He trails off, looking anywhere but at you. You struggle to your feet, smoothing your clothes down self-consciously. This is awkward as hell.

"I thought you were asleep," you admit, wincing. "I didn’t mean to—"

Spencer draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. He looks so fucking embarrassed, and you can't blame him.

You should say something. Apologize. You should put him at ease—

But the sight of him still has your pulse hammering.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down your racing thoughts. "I’m sorry, Spencer. I really am. I don’t mean—this is just—"

He raises his head, his eyes searching your face. "What were you doing, standing there?" he asks softly.

You swallow against the lump in your throat. "I don’t know," you whisper. "It was wrong, what I did. I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have watched you. I’m sorry."

Spencer lowers his gaze, his face still flushed. "What if I wanted you to?" he mumbles.

Your heart jumps. "What?"

"I wanted you to watch me," he says louder, his eyes darting up to meet yours. "I’ve been wanting you to for weeks, ever since you asked me to take over the case files."

"What?" you repeat stupidly.

Spencer shifts, his cheeks flushing a deep red. "I started—I started thinking about you. Fantasizing about you. You touching me, kissing me— everything."

Oh.

You stare at him, trying to process. "Reid," you say softly. "I—"

"Don’t apologize," he says quickly. "It’s not your fault, I just—I wanted you. So fucking bad. I thought that sleeping next to you would be—"

"What?" you prompt gently.

He exhales sharply. "That it would be uncomfortable," he says in a rough whisper. "That it would drive me crazy. That maybe you’d—maybe you’d feel it too."

His gaze flicks up to yours again, full of hope.

Your heart races. "Is that what you want?" you ask, stepping forward.

Spencer's breath hitches, his fingers tightening around his knees. "Yes," he rasps. "Oh fuck, yes. If you—Y/N, I’ll do anything you want. Just—just don’t leave me alone again. Please."

His words send a surge of pleasure through your veins. The sight of him, desperate and pleading, is almost too much to bear.

"Spencer," you whisper, taking another step forward. "Come here."

He scrambles to his feet, rushing toward you. You meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. He melts against you, pressing his face into the curve of your neck with a sigh.

"I can’t believe you saw that," he murmurs into your skin.

"I can’t believe I did either," you admit with a chuckle. "But I’m glad I did."

Spencer raises his head, his hazel eyes searching yours. "You are?"

You nod, smiling softly. "Yes."

His face flushes. "Do—do you want to watch me again?"

You smile wider. "Maybe later," you tease. "Right now, I think it’s my turn."

Spencer's eyes widen as you press him backwards, onto the bed. "I thought you were tired," he murmurs, his voice already thickening with arousal.

"I am," you agree, smiling. "But this is more important." You drop your jacket onto the floor, pulling off your shirt and jeans in quick motions. Spencer's eyes dart down to take in the sight of your naked body, and you flush at his hungry gaze.

He groans, throwing his head back against the pillow as you climb on top of him.

It takes a lot to shock Spencer Reid. But you're definitely up for the challenge. The look on his face is priceless as you take his cock in your mouth, not wasting any more time. His hips buck against the mattress, his hands threading into your hair.

"Fuck," he gasps. "Oh my god. Y/N."

He tangles his fingers in your hair, urging you on as you work him over. He's so responsive, moaning and gasping and whining—fuck, it's a beautiful sound.

You work him deeper, taking

Spencer moans loudly as you take him deeper, his thighs trembling. "Y/N, oh fuck, I—fuck—"

You press one hand against his hip, holding him steady as you swirl your tongue over the underside of his cock. Spencer bucks against your grip, his fingers tightening in your hair. He's still so sensitive from his previous release, but he's still getting harder—thicker—by the second.

You run your tongue along the underside of his cock, teasing the spot behind the head.

"Oh fuck," Spencer gasps, his voice broken. "Y/N, please—please don’t stop. I’m going to— ah."

You press your other hand against his stomach, feeling the muscles contract. His whole body is straining upwards, his back arched and his eyes squeezed shut.

You take him all the way in, swallowing around his length as you work your lips over his shaft. Spencer comes with a cry, his hips jerking as he empties down your throat. You swallow every drop, holding his gaze as you slowly pull back.

"Touch," he rasps, his fingers searching for your own.

You swallow against the ache in your throat and smile up at him, lacing your fingers with his. "How are you feeling?" you ask, running your thumb over his hand, keeping your voice soft as to not disturb the air.

Spencer sighs, though not out of exhaustion, you assume he’s still taking everything in as you see his head rolling against the pillow. "It’s never felt like that before."

You grin. "Glad I could help."

He shifts, reaching for his discarded pants on the floor. "We should—we should clean up," he mumbles, his eyes darting to yours. He flushes when he sees your expression, and his face turns even redder as you realize what he’s doing.

"Reid," you laugh. "Are you really reaching for tissues right now?"

His ears turn bright red. "Well, what—what else am I supposed to do?"

You shift, straddling his hips as you lean down. "How about we do something else," you murmur. You kiss his jawline, working your way down his neck.

"Like what?" he asks in a breathy voice.

"Like this," you reply. You shift, taking his cock inside you. Spencer's breath hitches, and he groans at the feel of you surrounding him. You clasp his shoulders as you begin to move, his hands falling to your hips. He gasps with each thrust, his eyes falling shut as his head lolls back against the pillow.

"Y/N," he whimpers, his fingers digging into your skin. “I don’t know if I can-."

You ride him harder, sliding up and down his cock. “Yes you can, baby. I know you can give me one more,” Spencer's hips rock upwards to meet you, his breath coming in broken gasps.

His fingers tighten around your hips, holding you close as he thrusts upwards.

You’re both panting and gasping now as you chase the peak. You're so close. So fucking close.

"Please—" Spencer groans. "Y/N. I'm—fuck, I'm coming."

You feel him spasm inside you, his fingers tightening almost painfully around your hips. You groan, your movements slowing as you ride him through his orgasm. Spencer's eyes are closed, his mouth open as he gasps for air. His body trembles beneath you, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as you reach yours, too.

You slump forward, catching yourself on his shoulders as you press your forehead against his. He opens his eyes and smiles at you, a warm expression that makes your chest ache.

"Hi," he murmurs softly.

"Hi Spencer." You smile back.

You both lay there for a moment, enjoying the weight of each other’s bodies. Finally, you roll off him, stretching out next to him on the creaky motel bed.

You reach for him, pulling him into your arms as you smile. He nestles against you, his arm snaking around your waist as he presses his face against your chest.

You wrap your arm around him, whispering soft praise into his hair as you stroke his skin gently. He relaxes further, his body growing heavy with sleep.

The mattress is uncomfortable, the sheets too thin. But somehow, you feel more at ease than you have in weeks.

Spencer Reid is a brilliant man. But he’s also really fucking good at other things too. And you’re excited to find out what else he’s good at.

You smile to yourself, your chest warm with affection.

"Goodnight, Reid," you whisper into his hair.

He hums a soft reply, his breathing already slowing. You wrap your arm tighter around him, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift off into sleep. Tomorrow, the case will continue, and so will your job. But right now, you have Spencer in your arms.

And that’s more than enough. You smile again, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you as you drift off to sleep. This room might not be perfect. But it’s home for the moment, and that’s all you need. You drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of Spencer's heartbeat against your chest.

[saltprince]

ORISON - English & Japanese lyrics

Full text for the Japanese/Romaji/English lyrics for Sandalphon's second character song, ORISON, under the cut.

Note: Orison was officially confirmed to mean "prayer" in the announcement stream

Romaji and English translation by Saltprince. Japanese lyrics taken from the cd booklet.

Terms of use: You're free to link to this blog post, quote, or add these lyrics to the Wiki or other platforms for educational purposes, so long the original post or handle are being mentioned. (If you drop me a message about it, that'd be nice but not required!)

Do not use this content for lyric videos. If possible, I'll have a lyric video up on my channel later if copyright allows it.

編み上げられた堅い糸は ami agerareta katai ito wa Even the strongest of threads

儚く解かれ hakanaku hodokare Will come apart before long

眩むような視界の中で kuramu you na shikai no naka de As if I'm somewhere my field of vision is blinded by light

響いた風の音色 hibiita kaze no ne'iro The wind's whistling resounds

もう決して mou keshite I'll never again

迷いに囚われぬように... mayoi ni torawarenu you ni Be a prisoner to my own troubled heart…

追憶の痕 tsuioku no ato Where only memories remain 強く抱いて tsuyoku idaite I'm being held tight 新たな羽を広がてゆく arata na hane wo hirogate yuku By new wings that are now mine to spread

いつでも何度でも itsudemo nando demo Anytime, time after time 願った未来を negatta mirai wo It's a future born from a wish この身の全てで導いて行こう kono mi no subete de michibiite yukou That I'll guide us towards with everything I have in me 幾多の想いを ikuta no omoi wo Countless wishes 授かりし羽で sazukarishi hane de Will be carried by wings passed down 限りのない空を kagiri no nai sora wo Into the endless skies 見届けよう mitodokeyou I'll see to it myself

共に刻む　時の行方 tomo ni kizamu toki no yukue During the time we whiled away together 焦がれし“望み”は kogareshi nozomi wa Our deepest “desires” やがて胸に深く根付く yagate mune ni fukaku nedzuku Had already taken root deep inside 消せぬ“願い”となっていた kesenu negai to natte ita Becoming an enduring “wish” もう二度と　悲しみに染まらぬように… mou nidoto kanashimi ni somaranu you ni I'll never again let it be stained with sorrow…

問いかけた過去 toikaketa kakou I questioned things in the past 動き出す未来 ugokidasu mirai But the future is already in motion 誉れある homare aru There's honor in it 栄光の旅を eikou no tabi wo In a glorious journey bathed in light

未完成の夢と mikansei no yume to The dreams that never got to be 愛しき世界よ itoshiki sekai yo And the world I've also come to love この胸に包み込めるように kono mune ni tsutsumi komeru you ni I hope to embrace them with my whole heart 永劫の時が　必要だとしても eigo no toki ga hitsuyou datoshitemo Even if it takes an eternity's worth of time 揺るぎのない yuruginonai I'll keep going 決意遂げる日まで ketsui togeru hi made Until the day my resolve is unshakeable

Swear to bring peace to the sky

差し出すその手　その微笑みは sashidasu sono te sono hoho'emi wa You offered me your hand and the softest of smiles 痛みすらも　霞ませていくだろう itami sura mo kasamasete iku darou Something sure to even fade away the deepest pain 見失ってた mi'ushinatteta I lost sight of it before 空の色は　こんなに蒼く… sora no iro wa konna ni aoku But were the skies always this brilliant blue…?

翔けゆく刹那に kakeyuku setsuna ni The moment I spread my wings 約束をしよう yakusoku wo shiyou We'll make a promise 進化の果てに掴む黎明を shinka no hate ni tsukamu reimei wo To grasp the limits of evolution, the dawn of a new age いつでも何度でも itsudemo nando demo Anytime, time after time 願った未来を negatta mirai wo It's a future born from a wish この身の全てで導いて行こう kono mi no subete de michibiite yukou That I'll guide us towards with everything I have in me 不屈の祈りを fukutsu no inori wo It's proof of a perservering prayer この背に刻印（しる）して kono se ni shiru shite A weight I'll carry on my back 限りのない空を kagiri no nai sora wo Into the endless skies 見届けよう mitodokeyou I'll see to it myself 蒼き空へ aoki sora he Towards skies of clear-blue さあ、羽ばたこう saa habatakou Now, spread your wings and fly

[rebbahh]

are you real

This is probably the worst thing I've ever seen. 100 years from now when I'm dying on a hospital bed and I'm asked what my biggest regret was it will be that I turned on my internet and scrolled through the internet on that fateful day... I will never be able to recover from this. No amount of therapy will save me. No amount of prescription pills will let me recover. I am a shell. This memory is so bad my brain is physically rejecting it and now I have a headache every time I think about it. Why did you post this, thinking it was a good idea? You've permanently ruined my life because of this, I hope you're happy. I hope that one day this gets branded as a war crime and you get hauled off to prison, never to see the light of day again. The fact that you're already not in a psych ward for insanity is so baffling I have lost all faith in every kind of justice system. If you subscribe to any religion, you'd best spend the rest of your time atoning for this ultimate sin. Have a terrible day, I hope this creation of yours haunts you in your dreams..

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch 2

“For good services and cute waitresses”

pairing: pre militaryljk x fuckbuddy!oc

contents: mild language, no smut (yet), fluff, humour, celeb au, a bit of angst, flirting, TENSION. lowkey mean manager. kind of dramatic oc.

wc: 4k

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: if anyone wants to join pls comment!!

masterlist , <prev | next>

It’s 1am, and you and Nari have decided to have a girls night at her apartment. Nari’s apartment is cosy, you and her are sat in front of her TV on her comfy floor-sofa (Which you convinced her to buy rather than a traditional sofa.) She’s glad to have listened however, night’s like these sitting on her floor, blasting music and simply enjoying each other’s company with side of wine make you grateful for having this kind of friendship.

You’d both came straight after work. It’s been a couple of days, two exactly, since Jungkook and his friends had showed up to your work, and you’re not sure who you’re trying to convince when you tell yourself you don’t care and all the exchanges between you were simply out of respect and making small talk. But honestly, who cares? Jungkook is undeniably attractive, you’re probably just another waiter he’s hitting on for fun, you’ll likely never see him again and you don’t wan-

“Do you think we’ll see them again?” Nari’s voice cuts through your thoughts, realising you’ve not been paying attention to the TV playing in the background. “Who?”

She scoffs, tucking her feet under her knees, nudging yours. “Don’t play dumb,” She’s smirking at you, and you’re biting your lip before you answer.

“I doubt it, why? And does it even matter?” You’re taking a sip of your wine, playing it cool, but Nari’s already deadpanning you as you avoid eye contact with her.

“Y/n, you don’t have to lie to me!” Shes whining, giving you puppy dog eyes and you roll your eyes and chuckle.

“Okay- Fine, maybe i do want them to come back, but i honestly don’t care if they don’t, i mean they’re just normal people right? Also, I heard some of their fans are crazy and i seriously don’t want to get caught in the middle of- What the fuck!”

Your breath catches in your throat while you stare at your phone screen, wine glass frozen mid air. Nari, instantly alert, scoots closer, “What?! What happened?”

You don’t answer, too busy reading the words in front of you. It’s a Twitter post- in fact, multiple posts—flooding your screen mid-rant, you’d decided to search Jungkook’s name up and it turns out, he wasn’t the only talk of the town today.

“JEON JUNGKOOK SPOTTED TALKING TO A MYSTERY GIRL AT RESTAURANT IN SEOUL WHO IS SHE?”

Beneath it is a blurry photo of you standing beside their table- table 3. You can tell it was taken secretly—the angle is weird, the lighting is off, but it’s unmistakably you. And even more unmistakably him. In the picture, it’s only Jungkook talking to you, the others are engrossed into the food, and Jungkook’s smirking up at you. And the comments?

“Omg she’s so lucky wtf.”

“They look kinda cute together not gonna lie.”

“Who is she??? Someone find her @.”

“She better stay away.”

“She’s literally doing her job, y’all are so weird.”

“THIS BETTER BE FAKE.”

“Oh shit.” Nari’s snatching your phone out of your hand, scrolling through the posts with wide eyes, and your stomach is churning, the longer you sit there, the more you feel like vomit’s crawling up your throat.

“Theyre talking about me..” You whisper, as if saying it out loud would make it worser than it already is. Nari hums in agreement, still scrolling. “Yep. And they’re crazy. Look at this one—‘someone find her @’? What the fuck?”

Your heart pounds as you snatch the phone back, scrolling faster. The tweet has thousands of likes already, and it’s spreading. You can see people speculating in real-time, some trying to figure out your name, others joking about Jungkook flirting with every waitress he meets.

You try to ignore that. Seeing the far bigger issue at hand.

You hate the spotlight. And this was seriously your worst nightmare, and definitely not how you’d want to end up in it if you ever did.

“Fuck- what if Jungkook sees this? What if he thinks i’ve taken the picture- Oh my god what if he thinks im a creep! I can’t, Nari-“

“Okay, first of all, he probably will see it eventually-“ That somehow makes your stomach drop further, he’ll see it. What a stupid question, of course he will. He’ll see the picture, the comments and all the speculation. “And y/n, that doesn’t even make sense, why and how would you take a picture of yourself, from that angle too?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, throwing yourself back onto the floor sofa, staring up at the ceiling. This is too much. You were fine just a few minutes ago, sipping wine and enjoying your night. Now your face is floating around Twitter alongside his, and you don’t know what to do about it.

Nari nudges your leg, giving you a look of sympathy . “Look, it’s like 2am, let’s sleep it off for now, it’ll probably die down soon, forget about this.”

You wish you could believe that. But as your phone continues to buzz, you have a sinking feeling this is just the beginning.

——

You’re shuffling through the backdoor of the restaurant, head down low and mentally cursing yourself for actually coming to work today. First of all, you’re hungover and you’d tossed and turned next to Nari all night, trying to avoid your phone and updating yourself on the… scandal.

It took some convincing on Nari’s side for you to actually come to work today. After she’d woken you up at the crack of fucking dawn all you wanted to do was go home and rot in bed, and maybe shoot your phone too. Avoid the drama.

Eventually, you gave in. Realising that suddenly not showing up makes you look suspicious- guilty. And that’s why you’re walking in, the smell of grease filling your nose.

Nari’s already behind the bar, handling customers. She notices you, waving while the regulars also wave, you smile back, however it doesn’t really reach your eyes and you know she notices.

—

You’ve changed into your work slacks and shirt, walking up to Nari when the buzz of the early morning starts to die down a bit.

“You seriously look like you wanna die.” Nari snorts when you rub your eyes, sliding a bottle of water in front of you, and you grab it and chug it fast. “Damn, thirsty much?”

You groan, crossing your arms after putting the bottle into the trash, “That obvious?”

“Just a little.” She winks, leaning against the bar, propping her chin on her palm. “But, at least you showed up. I was worried you’d actually quit and run off to live in the mountains or something. And- leave me here, to serve overpriced coffee and processed food to rich people, alone!”

You’re grinning when you look back at her and retort, “Honestly tempting, thanks for the idea.”

“Mm, I don’t think you’d last. No phone, no music, nothing.”

“You’re right, who am i kidding? I’d die within a day.” You’re rubbing your eyes again, sighing. “I still don’t know why I even bothered coming here today, everything’s moving pretty slow,”

Nari’s deadpanning you, “Its 10am. And this restaurant is never quiet. And you’re also a responsible adult with bills to pay.”

“Or because someone called Nari guilt-tripped me into it.”

“That too,” she grins.

For a split second, things feel normal—just the usual banter between you and Nari. No online chaos, no invasive speculation. Just work. Just routine.

Then, of course, the moment doesn’t last.

Two customers approach the bar, and before you can ask what they’d like to order, one of them leans in a little too eagerly.

“Oh my god,” the girl whispers, eyes wide with excitement. “You’re that girl, aren’t you?”

You blink, already knowing where this is going. “…What?”

“You know,” she grins, as if she’s in on some big secret. “The one from Twitter! The one Jungkook was talking to! We came to the right place, Unni! Oh my god- you have to tell me where he sat, where did he sit?!”

They’re both squealing, looking around the restaurant. Your stomach sinks. And just like that, the peace is gone.

Nari’s rolling her eyes, and you simply reply. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“She’s totally lying! You’re pretty- i guess, seems like the type of girl he’d go for surely, you can tell us, we wont say anything.” They’re winking, as if you’d tell a stranger that you’re dating a major celebrity. Crazy fans! You cant help but clench your jaw, you take a glance down and you notice they’re sporting Jung-kook’s merch, photo cards, keychains, you name it. You make a mental note to not slip anything about him at all, as if theres any thing to slip anyway… right?

“Im not lying, he only came here to eat, thats it, im just doing my job.” You clearly sound annoyed, and it’s getting worse when you see they clearly cant take a fucking hint.

The second girl gasps, grabbing her friend’s arm. “She’s totally lying!”

The first one giggles. “Come on! Tell us! You’re telling me you actually got to interact with the Jeon Jungkook and you arent telling anyone? Did he say anything? Does he flirt in real life the way he does on camera? Oh my god- are you.. secretly dating?!”

Your jaw tightens, irritation bubbling up. It’s always the same thing—his looks, his charm, the way he flirts on camera. No one ever seems to care about anything beyond that. It’s like he isn’t a real person to them, just some fantasy they like to add shit onto.

And now, because you happened to cross paths with him, they’re dragging you into it too. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask to be some character in the story of Jeon Jungkook’s life.

Your fingers tighten around the rag in your hand. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your patience, but the way they’re both gawking at you like you’re some kind of rare exhibit is making your skin crawl.

“I was just doing my job. That’s it.”

“But-“

Nari’s had enough. She’s barging beside you, slightly nudging you to the side. “Seriously?! She she’s already said nothing happened, do you not have anything better to do?” One of the girl’s flinch at her raised voice slightly, “So if you’re not here to actually buy food and just here to harrass my friend, i suggest you leave before i call security.”

The first girl’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, while her friend looks absolutely scandalized.

“Harassing?! We weren’t harassing her!”

“Yeah, you kind of were,” Nari deadpans.

“Now, what’s it gonna be? Drinks, or are you leaving?”

A pause. Then, with a few grumbles under their breaths, the girls exchange one last look before turning on their heels and storming off.

Nari watches them go, rolling her eyes. “Fucking weirdos.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, slumping against the counter. “I seriously hate this.”

She clicks her tongue, patting your shoulder. “Yeah, well. Better get used to it.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“Tell that to Jungkook if he shows up again.”

Your heart stops, he wouldn’t… right? Not again. Unless he hasn’t seen the shambles on social media, which you highly doubt. Him coming here again is a recipe for destruction.

—

You spoke too soon once again.

You’re already having a bad day, but this? This honestly just makes everything worse.

Are you fucking serious?

You’re lowering your head slightly, glancing toward the entrance as Jungkook walks in—alone. Of course, he is. Because why wouldn’t he want make this even harder for you? It’s not enough that people have been whispering, not enough that eyes linger on you when they think you won’t notice. Now he’s here, and there’s nothing to remove the attention. No group of friends, no distraction, just him walking in alone so casually, like he owns the place, completely unaware of the storm you’re stuck in because of him.

You exhale sharply, gripping the menu a little too tight as he scans the restaurant. It’s almost a relief when he picks a booth in the back—almost. At least from there, you’ll have a good view of anyone sneaky enough to try taking pictures. But it still doesn’t change the fact that he’s here, and now you have to deal with it.

“Do you want me to go instead?” Nari asks under her breath, her voice low so only you can hear.

“No, I have to go talk to him.“ Shes giving you a smile and nod of encouragement, and you pick up a menu, smiling back and walking over to the booth.

By the time you reach him, your frustration is simmering just under your skin, and you don’t even bother hiding it. Instead of setting the menu down gently, you drop it onto the table with a sharp thwap. Jungkook flinches, looking up at you with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard. Your heart clenches at his big, huge doe eyes. Why does he have to be so… cute! Ugh!

You cross your arms, glaring at him.”Seriously?”

He blinks. “Uh… what?”

You scoff. “Why am I in the middle of this?” You gesture vaguely, but he knows exactly what you mean. The posts, the speculation, the hushed conversations happening the moment you turn your back. “I really don’t want to be a part of this.”

For a moment, Jungkook just watches you. Then he leans back slightly, draping an arm lazily over the back of the booth, like this is just another casual conversation. Like this is nothing to him. “It happens all the time,” he says, completely unfazed, and you couldn’t be more pissed off. “I’m sorry.”

You narrow your eyes. “Yeah, of course you’re just sorry, well guess what Jungkook, im not you, okay? I’m not used to this- I dont want to be in this”

You don’t mean to snap, but the words come out sharper than you intended. Something flickers in Jungkook’s expression. His confidence doesn’t disappear entirely, but he’s hesitating and biting his lip ring—just for a second. His gaze flickers across your face like he’s actually seeing you now, realizing this isn’t just some minor inconvenience for you. You don’t know what to make of that. It throws you off, just a little. But you hold your ground.

“Im sorry, I didn’t want this to happen- I know how it feels, and ill do what i can to get it under control.” He’s speaking softer, looking up at you before he gets distracted by something in the back.

Before either of you can say anything else, Nari arrives with utensils and plates , setting them down a little harder than necessary. You startle.

“Here you go.”

Jungkook barely acknowledges her, murmuring a quick, “Thank you,” before reaching for his utensils. The interaction is completely normal—just a regular customer getting his order—but you watch anyway, searching for something you can’t quite name.

You trail off after Nari, giving him a tight lipped smile, picking up the plates around the tables near him. Something distracts you- someone. He’s old, in a casual, but smart outfit. Walking up to Jungkook. The man himself seems quite annoyed, like he dosen’t want to be there. You figure he’s his manager.

You’re still watching when Jungkook’s manager walks in and slides into the seat across from him.

Immediately, the atmosphere changes.

“You seriously need to lay low,” his manager says in a hushed but firm voice.

Your grip tightens around the tray in your hands. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but you don’t have to. The tension is clear as day, thick enough to press against your chest. You don’t know why, but something about the conversation makes you uneasy.

Jungkook doesn’t say much—just nods along, eyes downcast as he eats. Whatever they’re talking about, it’s serious.

You decide it’s time for a toilet break.

—

As you step into the bathroom, the cool air and muffled hum of the restaurant give you a moment to breathe. Exhaling slowly, shaking your head to yourself. This entire night has been one giant headache, and you’re barely keeping up.

The door swings open behind you, and in the mirror’s reflection, you see Nari stepping in. Her eyes meet yours briefly before she heads to the sink, washing her hands with the same frustration you’re feeling.

“You okay?” she asks, glancing at you through the mirror.

You let out a dry laugh. “I was gonna ask you that first.”

Nari snorts, shaking her hands off before grabbing a tissue. “Yeah, well. I figured you might need to hear it first.” She tosses the towel in the bin and leans against the counter, taking out her lipgloss and applying some. “What the hell is going on out there?”

“Trust me, i wish i knew.” You groan, rubbing your temples.

Nari raises an eyebrow. “So, what? You two got some unfinished business or something? Cause it kinda looks like it.”

You shoot her a look. “No. Definitely not.”

She hums, unconvinced. “I dunno… that was a lot of tension back there. Thought you were about to start throwing hands or—”

“Nari.”

“Okay, okay.” Shes grinning, nudging your arm. “But really, are you okay? You looked ready to bite his head off.”

You sigh, leaning back against the counter next to her. “I just… I don’t like this attention. The stares. The way people assume things just because he walks in here.”

Nari nods, her expression softening. “Yeah. I feel you, especially those girls earlier, that already annoyed me, i couldn’t imagine being you right now.”

“Exactly.” You run a hand through your hair.

“And now, one of his managers is all over him about laying low, and I’m caught in the middle of it.”

Nari makes a disgusted noise. “Ugh. I hate that. Like, what are you supposed to do? Ban him from the restaurant?”

“Right?”

There’s a brief silence before Nari shifts, giving you a sly side-eye. “But… if we ignore the part where this is a disaster… he is kinda hot, right?”

You groan, shoving her shoulder. “Nari.”

She laughs, raising her hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying! If this was some corny romance film, you guys would so be two scenes away from a heated argument turning into—”

“Nope. Not happening.” You shake your head firmly, pushing off the counter.

“Mm-hmm.” Nari sing songs, but doesn’t push further. “Well, whatever’s going on, you’ll figure it out.” She gives your arm a light squeeze before heading for the door. “I’ll cover if you need a few more minutes.”

You smile, feeling a little lighter. “Thanks, Nari.”

She winks. “Anytime, Mrs Celebrity.”

You groan again as the door swings shut behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

When that the calmness of the bathroom suddenly isnt so relaxing anymore, you make your way out, deciding that if you stay any longer, it may look like your actually hiding from him.

Stepping back out onto the floor, the buzz of the restaurant greets you again. You scan the room, gaze flickering toward Jungkook’s table. He’s still there, picking at his food and watching something on his phone but his manager is gone. For a second, you think he left completely—until you spot him at the bar, sitting stiffly, drumming his fingers against the counter like he’s waiting for something.

Or someone.

You sigh, steeling yourself, before walking over. “Can I get you anything?” you ask, keeping your tone neutral.

The manager barely glances at you before exhaling sharply through his nose, looking back to the side and it irks you. Pisses you off. “What you can do is tell me whats going on here. I’ve seen the posts, do you know who he is? Im sure you do, and you know the consequences of these things,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Frankly, I dont care what you kids are doing, but you and him should not be doing this so confidently out in the open.” He scoffs under his breath, fixing his watch around on his wrist absentmindedly on the counter. “But whatever. You don’t seem like the type to listen.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

His gaze flicks to you properly now, sharp and assessing. “I’m saying,” he continues, lowering his voice, “I understand that you have your own life to live, but Jungkook isn’t just anyone. He’s got an entire career, a reputation, and people looking for any excuse to pick him apart. So, unless you want to become the next big scandal, I’d suggest you be a little more careful.”

You cross your arms. “First of all, I’m just doing my job and theres nothing going on between us,” Irritation is building up, you couldn’t be famous. If this is the tiny amount of control you’d have over yourself? You seriously wonder how celebrities can deal with it. “Secondly, Jungkook’s also a grown man, and you cant sit here and babysit him.”

He huffs a dry laugh. “Trust me, I know.” His fingers tap against the glass again, thoughtful. “That’s the problem.”

You narrow your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head, letting out another sigh before pushing back from the bar. “It means that he always gets what he wants,” he says, standing up. “That’s all.”

You stand there for a moment, still processing, before glancing over at Jungkook.

His manager is leaving when you turn back, why the fuck is everyone leaving you riddles to solve?!

—

Its a few minutes later when Jungkook’s at the bar, interrupting your zone out sesh, annoyingly enough, he has that same smirk on his face, and what looks to be the bill in his hand.

“Hey,” he interrupts smoothly, stepping between you and your thoughts, “I have to leave a little earlier tonight.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes and making sure what you next say comes off as a joke, “And why would I care?”

Jungkook hesitates just a little, then tilts his head slightly, flashing a quick, teasing smile. “Hm, not sure, you do seem kind of invested.”

You roll your eyes, biting down the urge to smile just to be difficult. “Yeah, in my paycheck. Which I better still have after all this.”

His lips twitch like he’s holding back a laugh. “Good to know where we stand.”

“You’re a customer, and I work here. That’s where we stand.” You remind him. And you don’t know who you’re trying to convince when you tell him.

“Mm.” He hums, expression faltering the slightest, but you dont miss it. He’s resting his elbows on the bar. “But I don’t see you talking to your other customers like this.”

You scoff, reaching for a glass just to have something to do. “That’s because they’re not you.”

His grin deepens. “Exactly.”

His manager’s coming back through the door, looking out of breath, seemingly in a rush and exhales sharply, clearly fed up. “Jungkook, we need to go. Look’s like someones seen you,”

You look outside, its not a crowd yet, but theres the same two girls standing outside, you make sure to put your head down, not making it too suspicious that you’re hiding but you seem to cover your face successfully behind the bar glasses and you are praying to the Gods that your face isn’t going to be plastered all over your timeline tonight.

Jungkook doesn’t move. He just stays there, watching you, like he’s waiting for you to say something first.

You meet his gaze, feeling that tension again—annoying, frustrating, but undeniably there.

After a long beat, you raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be laying low?”

Jungkook smirks. “I’m working on it.”

The manager mutters something under his breath and finally leaves the restaurant. Jungkook takes his time following, sliding a tip across the bar before turning toward the door.

And like last time, you wait until he’s gone before checking.

Scribbled next to his unnecessarily large tip, in his barely legible handwriting, is a number, and the same emoji he has tatted into his middle finger drawn terribly next to it.

You freeze.

Jungkook left you his number.

[cythiraeth]

cupid's chokehold! pt. II - i. e. the moment genshin men knew they've fallen for you

✧ ─ ⌑ pairing: gn!reader x lyney, kaveh, childe (separate)

✧ ─ ⌑ short summary: the exact moment (or process which lead to it) when genshin men knew that they are head over heels in love with you!

✧ ─ ⌑ about the work: lowercase, fluff for lyney, more angst for kaveh and kinda angst for childe, not proof-read i think

✧ ─ ⌑ notes: hi guys! i know it's been LONG since i posted the first part of this series but hey better late than never! i actually wrote it some time ago but i kind of forgot to post it, so i don't remember if it's proof-read or not (i hope it is) lolol enjoy and until the next time! also reminding you that my requests are open <3

link to first part: ☆ (featuring al-haitham, cyno, xiao)

and my genshin impact masterlist: ☆

✧ ─ ⌑ word count: 2.2 k in total

lyney

when you looked at him with such an amazement in your eyes and it was all about his magical performances. when you listened really carefully to what he told you and watched closely what he showed you. of course, thousands of people would come and watch his performances and give him compliments but the feeling they gave him was nowhere near the feeling your words made him feel

the lights of the stage were dimming, the theater still buzzing with the energy of lyney’s latest magical performance. applause echoed in the grand hall, a thunderous acknowledgment of the magician's mastery. 

there were so many people there, so why were his eyes searching for you? why wouldn't it matter to him if the whole room emptied and you were the only one left there?

it was just that… he kind of felt like no-one shared those passionate feelings with him. a lot of people came to watch, they were laughing and looking impressed by his tricks, but still, something was lacking

he felt like the impression he left on the audience was rather… temporary. he couldn't do anything but watch them leave a few minutes after the performance ended without asking any questions and already talking about what they are going to have for lunch today.

after the performance, when the crowd had dispersed, and the theater was silent, he found you lingering near the edge of the stage. he was still in his performance attire, his hat tucked under his arm, his smile as dazzling as ever.

“enjoyed the show?” he asked, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt.

you looked up at him, your face lighting up in a way that made his breath catch. “enjoyed? lyney, that was incredible! how do you even come up with these tricks? the floating cards, the disappearing rabbits… it’s like you’re weaving a dream right in front of everyone’s eyes.”

you always seemed so interested in everything he showed you, you always asked questions, it was just purely visible that you cared about everything he's got to tell you

and it was actually really… hot to him

yeah, he knows, it sounds kind of pathetic but hear him out

it just felt so good when he saw those sparkles of amazement in your eyes, he was so proud of himself that he made you this excited so it was a win-win situation

“look, y/n, you see this rose, right?” he once showed you a beautiful red rose that laid on his palm

“yes, of course” you giggled, focusing your eyes on him so as not to miss any of his movements

“but what about now?” he asked, quickly turning his hand over and hiding it behind his back

“well, now i certainly don’t” you rolled your eyes but there was still a smile dancing on your lips and a bit of laughter in your voice. you cheeks were slightly blushed, probably because of the temperature that was rather high that day ( ̶o̶r̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶h̶a̶p̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶c̶l̶o̶s̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶, ̶̶d̶e̶f̶i̶n̶i̶t̶e̶l̶y̶ ̶c̶l̶o̶s̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶n̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶n̶e̶e̶d̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶f̶o̶r̶m̶ ̶a̶ ̶m̶a̶g̶i̶c̶ ̶t̶r̶i̶c̶k̶)

then, he showed you his hands again, but this time there was no flower 

“easy, you just hid it behind you back…” you explained to him his own magic trick, what made him chuckle a little

“well, if i were you i wouldn’t be so sure about that” he almost whispered into your ear, leaning closer

your heart skipped a beat because you had no idea what his intentions were, but before you’ve got to say anything he returned to his place and gently touched a bit of your hair, just above you ear

(you were almost blushing, giggling and kicking your feet at that point) (AND SO WAS HE)

you too touched this spot when he withdrew his hand, only to find the red rose, fixed behind your ear

“THAT WAS AMAZING, LYNEY!” you gasped out loud, visibly excited and his heart was just about to melt for a moment. “i’ll never understand how you do all of this!”

“that’s the point, dear y/n” he said softly. “magic is meant to be felt, not understood. and i have to admit, it’s much more fun for a magician when there’s someone like you watching.”

“someone like me?” you tilted your head

“someone who doesn’t just watch,” he explained, his smile softening. “you listen, you try to understand the story behind the tricks, and you look at it all with such wonder. It’s… different.”

you flushed at his words, glancing away shyly. “well, your performances deserve that kind of attention. they’re not just tricks; they’re art. and i want to know every detail of it!”

“a great magician never reveals all of his secrets to the audience, y/n” he winked at you

though, a part of him wanted to tell you everything you wished to hear, since you were starting to definitely be more than just an ordinary audience member to him…

kaveh

when you comforted him once after an argument with al-haitham. you were so kind and understanding to him that he literally nearly cried, because never in his life had he felt so cared of and important to. he almost immediately knew that you were the right person to spend the rest of his life with.

when you’ve heard a loud knock at your door in the early evening, you certainly did not expect that when you open the door, the person standing in front of you would be the renowned sumeru architect himself

“kaveh? what brings you here?” you questioned and stepped aside immediately, motioning for him to come in.

it turned out that he and your other friend, who both had thought that living together would be a great idea (it wasn’t), had another fierce argument

kaveh stormed out of the shared house, his heart pounding and his mind clouded with frustration. he couldn’t even remember what had started the fight - just that it had spiraled into something ugly, leaving him feeling small and unheard, as it always did.

“just… another fight with, you know, him” he sighed, running a hand through his hair “not like it’s something new. but-” his voice cracked for a second “it feels like no matter what i say, he doesn’t care. he doesn’t even take into consideration anything i say!”

you were stunned by how eager he was to share all those thoughts with you, but you didn’t say anything - in fact, you were quite fond of this. it meant that he felt comfortable around you, enough to entrust you with his sincere feelings.

“it leaves me feeling like none of what i say matters. like i don’t matter” he added and your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. you sat down beside him, your hand hovering for a moment before gently resting on his. 

“you do matter, kaveh!” you said firmly “to your friends, to me and many others. i understand that al-haitham is often difficult to handle, but it doesn’t make you any less important!”

he rose his head and looked at you with those crimson eyes, and for a moment you swore that you saw them watering up a little bit 

“do you really think so?” he asked carefully

“i don’t think so, i know it” you replied, squeezing his hand to comfort him. “your passion, talent, personality - i assure you, it inspires a lot of people. and don’t even try to think otherwise because of some stupid al-haitham and his humours”

it almost caught him in this moment - a really unfamiliar feeling hidden somewhere deep down his chest. he was unable to say a word for a moment, his eyes started watering again and he tried to look away. 

so when you added a simple “you don’t need to hide your feelings when you’re with me. it’s normal to feel hurt, and to cry. you’re not alone in this world.” 

it hit him there

he always prided himself on his independence, with dealing with life's problems on his own. although in truth he often felt alone in this, he never let it show. it was only now, when you were sitting right next to him, focusing your gaze only on him, that he wished he could always feel this way - cared for and important.

a tear trickled slowly down his cheek, and when you wiped it away with your thumb, he knew. at that moment he already knew. that no one had ever made him feel so special, so safe. for the first time in a years, he allowed himself to hope for something more, for better days to come. with you, by his side.

childe

when he was injured and you took care of him. he thought he was fine, since minor injuries happened to him all the time, but you were extremely concerned about his state. and that was the thing that moved him - he could count the people that show their genuine care for him on his fingers, and he didn't expect you to be one of them. of course it was rather a pleasant surprise, after all

the smell of herbs filled the room as you rummaged through your first aid supplies, your hands moving with precision despite the concern etched on your face. childe sat on a chair nearby, his usual confident smirk replaced by an awkward expression.

“hey, y/n, i told you it’s not a big deal.” he said, trying to downplay the wound on his arm. “i’ve had worse”

you gave him a sharp look, from which he trembled slightly. “not a big deal? childe, you are literally bleeding.” you replied in a frustrated voice.

“i've already told you that i’ve had far worse injuries on the battlefield”.

“so what?” you snarled at him, pouring disinfectant over the wound. “that doesn't mean you should ignore all the smaller ones.”

for a moment, he wanted to spit something back, but gave up when he noticed the determination in your eyes. if he were to be honest, he wouldn't have expected it from you.

he sighed, looking around the room. at this point he looked more like a bullied child than the capable warrior he had always made himself out to be. 

he didn't fall silent because of the pain, of course not. he fell silent because of your gaze - full of concern and the aforementioned determination. there was also something gentle in it, you weren't angry with him after all. you just wanted him to finally take care of himself, and if he didn't want to do it himself, he should at least let you do it.

of course, his family often worried about him and sent letters asking if he was all right, but he had long since got used to reassuring them that he was fine.

his fatui comrades, on the other hand, treated injuries like badges of honour  - a true warrior should not be concerned about scratches.

and here you were, completely different from them all. you weren't angry at him for getting hurt or trying to play it down. you tried to help him not because you had to, but because you wanted to.

when he realised this, a pleasant feeling wrapped around him like a warm blanket, unfamiliar yet still comforting.

“done,” you said after a while, tying the bandage tightly. ‘it should be enough for now, but you’ll need to rest so it heals properly’.

“rest?” he chuckled, his voice softer than usual “this definitely does not belong in my job description”

you folded your arms and furrowed your brow, looking at him “well, it's definitely a part of my job description to make sure you don't do something stupid when you're injured. so don't think to yourself that if i needed to, i wouldn’t tie you to this chair”

your words really amused him, his eyes started shining despite the obvious fatigue on his face. “really, y/n, sometimes you amaze me”

“i’'m serious,” you countered, despite the small smile on your lips. “you need to take care of yourself, childe. you can't act as if everything doesn't matter, especially when it concerns you.” your tone has become softer “a lot of people care about you. don’t forget that.”

his breathing stopped for a moment, and your words hit him harder than any blow he had ever received in battle. in that moment, he realised how rarely someone looked at him the way you did - with genuine concern, not for his strength or skill, but for him.

“i didn't know you were that concerned about it,” he admitted in a quieter voice.

you looked at him tilting your head “why wouldn't i care? you mean a lot to me, childe”

and just like that, everything clicked into place.

the faster beat of his heart when you were next to him? the warmth in his chest caused by your words? that strange feeling of peace that your presence brought to him? 

deep down, he knows

and maybe, just maybe, he hopes that you do too

⌞⌑ cythiraeth - 28.02.2025. please, do not copy, claim as yours or share outside tumblr! ⌑⌝

[punksalmon]

"it's the date night cologne," buck repeats

[rosykims]

tumblr user rosykims how are we feeling about new rosy content

[whiteredrose13]

AAAAAA, OKAY-- @persephone-s-moon I could not find their updated refs for the life of me, so, woe, busted old concept art be upon ye. (Excuse the wonky proportions, these were done on my phone.)

Shortest rundown I can manage:

Did someone order a tragic throuple with time-travel/reincarnation shenanigans and a side of hurt/comfort/fluff?

Candavata Bhatia: Elven queen, from the kingdom of Sona, and the baddest bitch to ever live. In order to prove herself worthy of holding the crown over her sisters, she needed to channel one of the gods. So, not only did she channel one, she called upon Bijalee, the embodiment of lightning and storms--and the most difficult one to channel due to her wild and hazardous nature. She has been the only person to do so, aside from the First Queen. This earned her the titles of Storm Bringer and Lightning Tamer. She and Qamar are married and have been best friends since childhood. Can you tell I love her?

(Side note: Editing this on my laptop and holy ashy tone, Batman. Hoping it's just my screen because my girl does NOT look like this, I promise--)

Qamar Abn awaa: Werejackal prince, devout cleric of Layl, goddess of the night and medicine, and the definition of the "I'm a healer, but--" meme. He managed to show both great power and promise from an early age when, during a political visit to the Sona royal court, he used his knowledge of anatomy to turn one of Candavata's would-be assassins inside out. This is where he and Candi's marriage was arranged. He is of a generally very sunny disposition, which often makes people underestimate him, as they assume he's useless in serious situations--but, when shit hits the fan, he's the one you want to be next to. (I started designing him when I did not understand how to map out locs or braids. Qamar, my prince, I am so sorry, I swear I will do right by you and fix whatever monstrosity I gave you.)

Vincenzo Virago: Vampire duke. The intersection of an emotionally constipated killing machine and massive nerd failure. He's head over heels for both Candi and Qamar, but he doesn't feel like he can tell them, due to the fact that he views himself as unlovable, both wanting and growing jealous of them. (He is completely oblivious to the fact that they are also in love with him.) He's terrified of turning into his father, but it seems like everything he does only turns him further down that path. He's a warlord. He's a wet cat. He needs therapy.

It's a stable, constant dynamic. You never see one without the other. Where Qamar goes, Candi is right beside him, and Vince is right behind them. Whenever something goes wrong, usually they're at the center of it, all having different roles in the trouble. Candi, the planner, Qamar, the keen lookout, and Vince, the instigator. He keeps the two of them grounded, on their toes, and they do what they can to keep him away from his father. Even after they graduate and take their places in their respective castes, they stay in touch.

The story itself begins at the worst part of their relationship.

At this point, Candavata and Qamar have been married and are tending to their responsibilities as king and queen of their joined empire. Though they try to stay in touch with Vincenzo, it's difficult--and Vince doesn't make it easy, either. Over the years, he becomes withdrawn. He stops answering their letters, he refuses to see them when they come in person, every time. After a while, they stop trying. Not because they don't love him, they do, but there's only so much you can do when a person doesn't want (or doesn't think they deserve) help.

Vincenzo, after years of sitting with the jealousy and battling his father's horrendous treatment, broke. He didn't just spiral, he nose-dived, doubling down on every bit of gossip and rumor, until he's changed and warped into something even he can't recognize. He shuts out Candi and Qamar. Maybe he doesn't want to taint them, maybe he thinks this is how it was meant to go, maybe he can't stand their gentle hands or the pitying look in their eyes. Maybe he just wants the excuse. Whatever it is, Vincenzo becomes a monster, with blood on his hands.

In the end, Candi and Qamar had to be the ones to put him down.

Which is where we get into the time/reincarnation fuckery.

Because, when the pain fades and Vincenzo opens his eyes, expecting to see whatever eternal damnation looks like, he sees his university bedroom. Littered with textbooks and letters from Candi and Qamar, and his graduation robes hanging on the back of the door.

He's got a second chance to go back and unfuck everything, but only time will tell if he'll succeed or end up exactly where he was before.

Something, something, breaking cycles and being open with your loved ones, allowing yourself to be loved by others and yourself, and sometimes men are at their best covered in blood and a little bit pathetic.

(Oh, and, you want a really fun fact? Vince isn't the only one who remembers the original timeline.)

[aroanthy]

being gay and aromantic is wild because people will accuse you of hating gay people because you (checks notes) wish people would be a little more critical of romance as a patriarchal structure. the thing is that rgu literally does this, it examines and interrogates how romance is a patriarchal structure. every time i talk about aromanticism in rgu people get very upset about that, as though aromanticism impedes queerness— i did not realise we were still doing exclusionism so bare faced. every time i talk about aromanticism, people get upset. im not even talking about it in relation to the show, instead making a general throwaway post about the weight that people afford anything that deals in Romance, and i get told that rgu is a romance and i should cry about it. like. what? rgu made me realise i was aromantic. i was already gay and that gave me the final piece of the puzzle.

to be gay and aromantic does not mean you Just Have Friends (? what does this even mean, let’s unpack this statement at a later date): to be gay and aromantic means myriad things for myriad people. it means queer sex, it means queer connections that aren’t defined as ‘romantic’, it means queer attraction, it means queer understanding. nothing about this devalues romantic queerness, though i must say that every time i post about aromanticism someone has to qualify my words with a statement about how romance is cool too. and sure, it is, but you can maybe understand how that’s exhausting when you actually want a meaningful conversation about your identity. anyway aromantic people i love you aromantic people and gay people i love you gay people (i am both. godbless goodnight)

[cuteniarose]

Kat and Nia and their Multiverse of Madness

A masterpost for the intricate web of AUs co-created by @katkastrofa and yours truly, with linked art, fics and relevant posts for maximum convenience

(Compiled into one post mainly to help keep track of everything now that it's grown so big, but also specifically written out for @rokurookajima since she was interested. Will continue to be updated as things develop further)

Under the read more, because fair warning, this is LONG

MAIN VERSES:

We have many different AUs as part of our multiverse, but there are only two main ones, with the rest either being based on SotRL or a mix of it and FAtC:

Seeds of the Red Lotus – Suiren and Midori, my first OCs and Ming-Hua and Ghazan's children, grow up in Gaoling with their abusive paternal aunt, Haya (she wasn't abusive towards Ghazan, which is why he was inclined to trust her with his kids, but her grudge against him for abandoning her in favour of the RL + prejudice against the Swamp tribes, where Ming-Hua is from, because the illness that killed her parents started there, led her to taking out her anger on his daughters, particularly on Suiren, who is way too much like her mother). Their childhoods are awful in unique ways, and in an attempt to earn enough money to move out, Suiren, a waterbender, takes up a job as an assassin, which just further worsens her already nonexistent mental stability. In 174 AG, Team Avatar hires her as a last ditch effort to defeat Kuvira (and no, there is no giant mecha suit, because it's stupid and I hate it), and both sisters are taken to Air Temple Island. I never finished the fic itself, though I am slowly dabbling in a rewrite + continuation, but most of the discussions Kat and I have still take place in this verse, or more specifically, what we call post-SotRL

(Post-SotRL – After Suiren fails to kill Kuvira and sustains an injury to her leg, she and Midori leave ATI and by pure chance reunite with their parents and P'Li (all of whom survived the Book 3 finale and spent 3 years in hiding, because I said so). Of course, it's not all sunshine and rainbows – there are 16 years' worth of trauma, pain and guilt to work through, after all. That process is the central theme of Kat's Roots series. Some time later, Kuvira is defeated and sentenced to death, but Suiren (who's been high-key obsessed with her ever since the failed assassination) decides to break her out of jail and save her life, which leads to the start of their enemies to unwilling roommates/fuckbuddies to lovers arc. The event itself is detailed in Kat's WISH, and I myself have written this dynamic both in Astraphobia and my unfinished Avatar Sapphic Week contributions. At roughly the same time, Midori reconnects with Opal (who she met while at ATI) and they begin a relationship of their own (bc Bopal was comphet and you cannot convince me otherwise), a bit later Bolin joins the gang (gets semi-adopted by Ghazan and discovers that his mom and P’Li are actually cousins who never got to meet, so P’Li gets some family back too), and eventually this merry band of misfits break Zaheer out of jail, and what follows is some difficult political stuff that neither of us are too keen to get into, but the point is that in the end, the Red Lotus are allowed to peacefully exist and the world is slowly changing for the better)

Fate Amenable to Change – A set of fics exploring a Red Lotus Korra AU, canon to Kat's main backstory fic, Lost and Found (SotRL builds on the same events with the same backstories for P'Li and Zaheer, but with Ghazan being from Gaoling instead of Ba Sing Se, his sister's name being different, and him being childhood friends with Ming-Hua. Suiren and Midori are also not canon to FAtC). The main fic, Empty and Become Wind, differs from most other RL Korra fics because she wasn't kidnapped, rather the RL convinced her parents to run away with them, but unfortunately, both of them were killed when Korra was 11. After that, the RL took up residence in Zaofu right up until it was time for Korra to learn airbending, upon which they all relocate to Republic City. Kat's co-writer for this series quit writing, and since then we've basically adopted the two most prominent OCs from it – Nazra, P'heer's combustionbending daughter, and Tsomo, a blind airbender born to Lin and Tenzin before they broke up. The two of them feature in a few of our SotRL-based AUs (and yes, they're lesbians and in love, did you really expect anything else?). We don't really explore this verse because both of us are obsessed with Suiren and Midori, but it deserves a mention nonetheless.

SECONDARY VERSES:

Under the Oak's Shade – The first secondary AU ever created, a result of a passing idea of an AU where Zhi (P'Li's mentor and parental figure from Kat's LaF) and her partner Ikiaq (a bloodbending healer. Yes, these two are also lesbians) take in Suiren and Midori after their parents are imprisoned. Due to being unable to cope with her own grief, it takes Zhi six months to get to the girls, which was enough time for Haya's abuse to leave its mark. Both girls are nothing at all like the kids described in the letters P'Li used to send, and while Midori is quick to revert back and soak in all of Zhi's affection, Suiren is angry, skittish, terrified and resentful, reluctant to let Zhi anywhere near her. The series is still in progress, but the current plan is that Zhi will take them to the North Pole, where she lives with Ikiaq, and they shall help the girls heal from their trauma and grow up happy and healthy. One notable detail is that Suiren will train under Ikiaq and become a bloodbender, which will eventually enable her to enact a plan to break the RL out of prison early on. There have also been talks of a Red Lotus Korra element to this AU as well, but we'll have to discuss it in more detail

Ultimate AU – One of the mixes between SotRL and FAtC. This AU has existed pretty much forever, as I very quickly came up with a "hey, what if Suiren, Midori and Nazra all existed in the same verse?" concept. It is also the birthplace of Kuviren and Green Opal, both started as inside jokes, so remember kids, be careful with what you joke about, it might just become an important part of your story. It gained proper shape in May 2024 when I came up with an AU of LaF in which P'Li's little sister, Lien-Hua, gets to live and is also rescued from the warlord by Zaheer. Lien-Hua haunts the narrative of our multiverse (and actually, in SotRL-verse Midori is her reincarnation!!), she's really the central part of it all, and so it was decided that if she gets to live, everyone else does too. Xai Bau, the Red Lotus founder who died closer to the end of LaF, survives. The AU follows the storyline of FAtC with Korra's parents joining the RL, but they also get to live. In Zaofu, the kids get to grow up happily with their parents, the seeds for Kuviren and Green Opal are planted, and it's genuinely all very soft and fluffy up until Republic City and the Equalist conflict comes into the picture and things take on a darker turn. But before then, the worst thing that happens is Kuvira rejecting Suiren because she's convinced Renny (who's a massive flirt with a love for low cut dresses in this verse) is just playing with her and her feelings aren't genuine. But they sort it out soon enough, don't you worry. Essentially, this is the AU we turn to when the angst gets to be Too Much

Mud of Adversity – Another mix of SotRL and FAtC, this time a lot more angsty. Starts out the same as SotRL, with the exception of Nazra being left with Haya as well, meaning that Suiren's burden of being the protector has doubled. Haya knows who Nazra's mother is and thus is scared of her, so Naz doesn't get hit (Haya views her as a walking time bomb, essentially), but they're not given enough food to satisfy Nazra's increased appetite and she's made to feel like a freak for her height and abilities. Though in some ways, she's luckier than her sisters because she's allowed to firebend while earth- and waterbending are banned. The reason is the same, Haya being afraid that Nazra will spontaneously combust if her fire builds up for too long. Years later, when the girls are teens, Nazra gets angry at Haya for beating Suiren and accidentally kills her with her combustionbending. They dispose of the body, leave Gaoling and go into hiding, Suiren taking up her assassin job to keep them fed. When the RL escape from prison in Book 3, they go to check up on their daughters only to find an empty house, causing them all to imagine the worst. We never did finish figuring out how this AU develops, but this is the basic gist of it and maybe one day, we'll return to it

Sacrifice AU – The angstiest SotRL AU there is. As mentioned, people in the small corner of Gaoling Haya lives in are prejudiced towards the Swamp tribes, blaming them for the disease that killed so many, and Suiren as a swampbender becomes the subject of many rumours and superstitions. With time, the townspeople start to see her as a spirit (because it's easier to ignore the obvious abuse of a child if she's not a child at all, but a malevolent spirit and an omen of doom), and the rumours reach their peak when Suiren becomes an assassin and is now able to afford a slightly better life for herself and Midori, at which point it is decided that she must be the reason everyone else lives in poverty, because why else does she live better than them? Getting rid of her will be their salvation. So one night a few months after the Red Lotus allegedly die, on a new moon so Suiren is at her weakest, they attack, intending to sacrifice her as a way of securing prosperity, and kill Midori while they're at it. Kuvira, who at that point has already started her Great Uniter work, happens to be in Gaoling at the same time and saves them, taking them to Zaofu for their safety. Desperate to feel alive again, Suiren falls into bed with Kuvira on that very first night and regrets it a lot since now Kuvira keeps looking at her as if she expects something (Kuvira is just concerned, but try telling Suiren that). Traumatised, suffering from PTSD and paranoia, Suiren avoids people like the plague and stops waterbending, considering water to be a traitor since it didn't help her save herself and Midori, and instead learns bloodbending so she isn't completely helpless. And Kuvira, who keeps fretting over her, might just be the perfect test subject...

MoA Sacrifice AU – Somehow, even worse than the previous one. As the title suggests, a mix of Sacrifice AU and Mud of Adversity. Instead of Nazra killing Haya, things carry on as normal for a few more years until the night of the sacrifice. Nazra uses her combustionbending to try saving Suiren, but fails and all it results in is the townspeople deciding to sell her to a general looking for unique benders for his army. Suiren and Midori are saved by Kuvira and taken to Zaofu, while Nazra meets the same fate as her mother, being tattooed and forced to be a weapon against her will. Eventually, she is found and saved, but is so traumatised and scared of hurting people (her tattoo was done in a way that made her light chakra overactive, she literally cannot supress her combustionbending unless she's on qi blockers) that she can't stay in Zaofu and is sent to a sanctuary in the mountains to recover, where she meets and bonds with Tsomo. Meanwhile, rumours of a combustionbender spread and reach the Red Lotus, who are currently in hiding. Ghazan goes to investigate, is told by Haya about the failed sacrifice, comes across Bolin who by that point has made friends with Midori, and the reunion between the RL and their kids happens sooner than in normal SotRL. Still not too clear on where it goes from there

Avatar Suiren AU – Aang dies two years earlier and Suiren is born as the Avatar instead of Korra. The Red Lotus fundamentally believe that the Avatar shouldn't exist, and that belief was passed on to Suiren before they found out what she was. Suiren hates being the Avatar, both because she sees her parents constantly worrying about her being discovered and taken away, and because she, similar to Yangchen, is rather sensitive to memories of her past lives and it's very, very overwhelming for her. She often gets nightmares about traumatic things previous Avatars went though and.wakes up screaming names long forgotten by history, but that also allows her easier communication with them, so she's never quite alone. She remembers all the pain, all the efforts to fix the world that were ultimately useless, knows how it feels like to have your entire world upended as a child, and decides early on that she will not let this continue. The world cannot keep relying on one being to save them, and so she shall be the Last Avatar. She grows up, trains, at one point crosses paths with Kuvira in Zaofu who finds out her secret and becomes extremely devoted to her, and during Harmonic Convergence opens both Spirit Portals and fuses with Vaatu (much to Raava's dismay). She works hard to get the world ready for the lack of an Avatar, to change and establish as many things as she can, all the while bonding with and getting attached to her spirit kites, particularly Vaatu, though she spends a lot of time talking to both, and when things are as stable as can be, she lets both of them go, ending the cycle (something that would cause unfathomable outrage were it to actually happen in the show, but tbh, even this is 100x better than whatever those new leaks promise...)

Mermaid AU – An utterly niche, self indulgent AU not connected to any other verse, born out of my lifelong love for mermaids. No bending, no Avatar, just Kuvira as the best captain in Suyin Beifong's merchant fleet (and Bataar Jr's fiancee) and Suiren as a mermaid/siren/sea monster who she meets while stranded in a seaside town. Monsterfucking ensues 😁 I'm still not quite sure where I'll take this, the fic for it that I started for MerMay 2024 is still just a oneshot, but I do have some ideas I could explore, including how Suiren's parents and Midori feature in this AU (as a tiny hint.. anyone here ever seen Barbie in a Mermaid Tale? [they say, as if they don’t have several posts on their art blog spoiling the “grand reveal”…])

BONUS IMPORTANT STORYLINES:

Northern Water Tribe shenanigans – In March 2024 I made a shitpost about Malina, Unalaq's wife, Kat saw it and things spiralled from there. It came to be that there's no love in their marriage, they have not shared a bed since the twins were conceived, and Unalaq generally has no interest in Malina because he's rather.. preoccupied (🤮) with a certain spirit kite. And what's a lonely, touch starved, severely tocophobic beautiful bisexual noble woman to do in that situation? Well, start a harem made out of her guards and handmaidens, of course!! It's.. pretty much pure filth, yes 😔 That's just what happens when you let someone raised on harem dramas (a.k.a me) anywhere near noble characters. But anyway, we have two OCs Malina is close with so far – Ila, a useless disaster lesbian for whom no other woman but Malina exists, and Alasie, an aroace and touch repulsed maid who has her boundaries respected by Malina and becomes a friend to her. Ngl, those two are low-key based on Kat and me <3 And Suiren also becomes involved in all of this in the UtOS and Avatar Suiren verses, but I shall not be sharing details of that in public

Zaheer's fucked up family – Once upon a time, Kat wrote in LaF that at age 12, Zaheer ran away from his tyrant father, classist mother and two sisters, whom he didn’t have the best relationship with. One summer evening, I took that and ran with it. Semi-brief summary: Jusamah – Zaheer's father, angry, violent, barely tolerates his wife and kids, cares only for his fortune and continuing the family line, can, will and has severely punished and executed people for perceived transgressions; Sunat – Zaheer's mother, meek, anxious, secretly nearsighted, loves her children and would do anything to ensure their safety, but doesn't allow herself to show affection, focuses on social climbing to secure good matches for her daughters; Summiya – the eldest, perfect in every way down to the uncanny symmetry of her face. Married to Himman, the only son of an influential family who's rumoured to be a drunk and a brothel goer. Her two children, Liba and Abyan, were both born with visible birthmarks, thus not as perfect as her, and her perfectionism and constant criticism make Abyan resent her and Liba hate herself. As young teens, the two run away, leaving Summiya's life crumbling around her. Her kids are gone, her husband is a cheater, she's not perfect anymore, so she loses it and turns to sexual masochism to feel at least something. Her infidelity is discovered, she runs away, makes friends with a group of girls working at a local brothel (a few of whom are her husband's mistresses), heals, finds freedom in sex work, eventually reconnects with her sister, kids, mother and, many years later, Zaheer; Aiza/Emran – middle child, always failed to live up to both Summiya and Zaheer, scored a less than ideal match and couldn't stand the thought of marrying someone she had never met (my fic nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter goes into this in great detail), so disguised herself as a boy named Emran and ran away with the help of her maid. Ends up at an Air Temple, joins the acolytes, has a gender epiphany and now goes by both names, uses she/he/they pronouns, and is a genderfluid, pansexual, polyamorous ICON. Many years later, his niece and nephew arrive at the same temple and he takes them under his wing. Has many lovers all over the world, including the maid who helped them, Jia (who was tortured for information by Jusamah after Aiza left 😬) and after reuniting with Zaheer, Ghazan :D. Gains airbending after Harmonic Convergence. Over the last few months Kat and I have basically frothed at the mouth at any even slight mention of this family, and it's hard to tell why from a summary, but generational conflicts like this are fascinating so we intend to keep going with this until we literally can't anymore

Brothel girls – Summiya's friends!! Featuring: Shezan – bisexual, struggles with chronic pain, comes from a big family, loves her work but would rather do it independently; Roheen – lesbian, wanted to become a lawyer but didn't get into school despite her smarts, dislikes her job and wants to leave to pursue law school again; Gulalai – bisexual, has an identical twin sister she failed to compare to, in a relationship with Roheen, enjoys her work well enough but would leave if Roheen left; Phailin – asexual, half Fire Nation, erotic dancer who goes further for a higher price, loves dancing and having eyes on herself and dreams of returning to her ancestral homeland, the Fire Nation islands; Daneli – lesbian, youngest girl there, turned to brothel work when her dad (single father) got sick, has crushes on Shezan and Qader, doesn't enjoy her job much and will leave as soon as she can, ends up adopting the daughter of one of the other brothel girls, whom she names Kumisai (who, as a teenager, will be in a relationship with Jinora and friends with Kai); and Qader – some flavour of mspec, was bullied growing up for not being feminine enough so went full butch to spite them, picked her name herself, the most domineering at the brothel, likes her work and will keep at it regardless of circumstances, makes Kat's brain short-circuit 🤭. Honourable mention – Mekhali, non-binary, independent sex worker with an undecided dark past, Summiya's first friend who housed her after she ran away, introduced her to the girls and helped both her and Shezan start working independently too (no posted art or fics of these guys exist yet, but Kat and I have an extensive series of incorrect quotes posts featuring them)

Sweet baby Ehuang – We've had the headcanon for a while that Midori and Opal would work with kids a lot in the future, and as a result would adopt a bunch (no names, appearances or concrete backstories yet, but they adopted a boy who was born in 173 AG, a girl who was born in 175 AG, and one who'll end up nonbinary who was born in 181 AG), but after a while Midori decides that she wants to have a biological child as well. With one of Opal's brothers helping out as a sperm donor, Midori conceives and nine months later, in 186 AG, gives birth to a girl they name Ehuang (her name comes from the same legend as Ming-Hua's mom's name, Nuying, so it's all very symbolic). Ehuang grows up to be a wild and carefree child, beloved by her entire family – her moms, siblings, grandparents, uncles on Opal's side, Auntie Renny and Auntie 'Vira (Suiren and Kuvira, in case that wasn't obvious), etc etc. She's an earthbender on the road to becoming a lavabender, takes after great grandma Toph in her refusal to wear shoes, has a rock collection, and is literally the manifestation of everything good and pure in this world. We don't have much of a storyline for her yet, but that will hopefully change at some point since I already have a few ideas

EXTRA OC INFODUMPS AND RELEVANT POSTS:

Brief summaries of Haya, Summiya, Aiza, Ehuang, and Ila & Alasie

Meifeng, Ming-Hua’s cousin

Nonbinary OCs (incomplete list)

Eldest daughters

And, as one final piece of information, the SotRL-verse family tree:

Last updated: DECEMBER 20TH 2024

[imageingrunge]

I wish DATV had been good for me so can move on from the series, bc I got this new computer w 2Tb of space n have Skyrim, tw3, and Red dead on there… and my first thought playing any of those other games was man... take me back to denerim when it was five wooden shacks stapled together with 2009 graphics

[seafoam-taide]

i have so many images and concepts in me. and. they wont. come out

[cafecitowriter]

Good news: I actually just put down 1.1K in a WIP that I haven't touched in over three years!

Bad news: this big epiphany scene i just wrote actually just made the plot sooo much more deep and i am not a plot girly (NB) on a good day

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

WIP Folder Game

I was tagged by @sagemoderocklee <3

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Oof okay here we go. These are literally just named by what the document is called lol you'll see that many of them do not have proper titles unless they've already started being posted to ao3

Also, do outline-onlys count? I'm adding them

Naruto:

[REDACTED ZINE PIECE]

North Star (posted)

Holy Fool Colored Blue/My Sweetest Downfall (technically posted)

I Come With Knives (posted)

It's Disco, Baby! (posted)

Not God, Not Us, But Something Else (posted)

lemon-wedges art fic

tarot story

AFTG:

angstober days 1 2 3

blair witch au

Dawn Won't End the Night (posted)

musician au

Haikyuu!!:

Big Brother Daichi Feel Good Story

daichi fightchi

Jujustu Kaisen:

The Sound We Make Inbetween

yuuta pre zero scene

Ouran High School Host Club:

kyouya horror exercise

kyouya possession

Devilman:

rewrite

I'm..... not ever comfortable tagging people but I'm ESPECIALLY not gonna be able to tag as many people as I have wips lmao sorry.

I'll tag @bananahwormz @nightingaleflow and @uriekukistan (if you guys want to/haven't been tagged already, ofc <3) Everyone else I can think to tag has already been tagged :')

[stunie]

“NEEDIN’ A RIDE REAL, REAL BAD!!”

HAIKYUU + THIGH RIDING ᯓ⭑ ft. bokuto koutarou, daichi sawamura, kuroo tetsurou, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, & ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

contains : explicit smut (18+), thigh riding / dry humping, phone call (keep quiet n ride!), risky sex / very mild: cw exhibitionism, squirting, teasing, praise, kissing <3, hair pulling (you to them), orgasm denial, usage of pet names — 2.9K WC

note : yayya my first haikyuu post on here ! this is my response to this thirst here ૮꒰˶˃ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა hope u all have fun reading this <3

KUROO TETSUROU.

“Whoa whoa,” Kuroo coos through a breathy chuckle, big hand wrapping around your hip to hold you still against his thigh. “Easy now, pretty thing. Let’s pause for a second, okay?”

The sound of your protests and whines almost make him cave right off the bat. “…Tetsu..” you sulk, corners of your lips curling into a sad pout even when he gives you an apologetic smile before he’s jutting his thumb to gesture at his phone, the irritating melody of his ringtone repeating itself as the screen lights up, “Incoming call from: Kenma!” displayed across the top.

“Sorryy,” he huffs. “Can’t. This one’s important.”

He’s giving you a reassuring squeeze around your hip, a silent reminder that he’ll give you everything you need in a few minutes, but you’re not having any of that. Your arms come to stubbornly wrap around his neck before he can pick up the call, sugar sweet voice already making pleas only a second later.

On any other given day, you would have let him take the call with only an irritated huff— just not today. Not with the way you can already feel your orgasm running away from you. “P-please, please Tetsu,” you sob, “I was so close. Can’t wait any longer.. please?”

His eyes are widening a bit at the unfamiliar desperation in your voice, grunt slipping out when his cock reacts to it too, twitching and slapping against his stomach— a reoccurring habit that seems to only occur whenever you give him that needy little look of yours.

“Awww,” he whispers, and you barely catch the strain in his voice. “Well I’m sorry for ruining your moment, angel.”

You’re practically purring as soon as you feel his hand come to lightly cup your jaw, immediately melting into his touch as he smiles in response. “Ah— fine,” Kuroo caves as soon as he sees your hands coming to cutely hold his wrist in place. “Guess i can’t stop you if you need it so bad. But listen here..”

His thumb moves from your jaw, digit pressing into your bottom lip to angle your face at him. The look you’re giving him is just to die for, pouty lips soft against his thumb and you’re peering up at him through those pleady eyes— as if there was even a single chance that Kuroo would ever deny his pretty girl of an orgasm in the first place.

“Nothing crazy. Deal? Kenma hears and..” he presses a little harder into your lip, watching the way your tongue comes to swipe at the invasive finger. “Me and you? Are never hearing the end of it.”

You’re swiftly nodding as soon as the words register, hands coming to rest on the muscles of his shoulders as you resume your movement the next second, gasping at the way your clit catches against his thigh. “Kenma?” You hear him hum, tucking his phone between his cheek and shoulder— quick and casual.

Maybe too casual.

“Mmm,” his eyes flicker back towards you when you take in a sharp inhale. “So it’s about that. You sure you don’t wanna meet up to go over it?”

A loud gasp slips out from you when he abruptly grabs you by your waist, and your hands slam over your mouth, Kuroo tensing beneath you. “…Hm? Yeah, I’m listening.” He chuckles, regaining his composure in an instant as he starts to rock you back and forth against his leg— and fast.

The roughness has your face contorting, nails digging deep into his shoulders as you try and resist the strong hands guiding you back and forth— try and slow him down a bit, delay your oncoming orgasm by even second if anything at all. You hadn’t expected it to come back so fast, and.. you both knew good and well that you weren’t gonna be able to stay quiet.

You give him a look, something resembling your best attempt at a glare, but he’s ignoring it— casually chatting with kenma about something you can’t quite catch. You’re only left to bite your lip, eyebrows deeply furrowed as you desperately fight the knot tightening inside your belly, thighs clamping against his own as he flexes his quad straight into you.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, hand leaving your waist to pick up his phone again, finger hovering over the ‘mute’ button, and your body is falling limp onto his chest, hands balancing yourself on him as you peer up at him through tired eyes and a heavy pant. “Actually..”

“..Looks like I got a bit of a problem to take care of here first.” He smiles. “So give me a minute, yeah?”

MIYA ATSUMU.

“Gonna have to keep that pretty voice of yours down.” Atsumu’s lips brush against the shell of your ear, big hands tight around your hips as he drags you up and down his thigh. “Or ‘Samu’s gonna hear ya.”

Your hips stutter against his leg, drawing a sharp gasp from you- and he curses under his breath. Osamu would be back any second now, and yet he’s got you seated on him, your lounge shorts pulled to the side so he can draw one quick orgasm out of you before the three of you head out for dinner.

Because you— Atsumu’s impatient lil bunny, or so he calls you, just couldn’t wait until after the dinner to get a quick treat.

“‘M trying.” You whisper, voice breathless and whiny, and you tighten your embrace around his middle, burying your face deep into the fabric of his sweater. “Feels ‘s good… so good— need more..”

“I know, I know— later, yeah?” He sounds unsteady from how roughly he’s moving you against him, muscles of his thigh flexing and hardening underneath you. “Gonna give it to ya real good. stuff ya nice and full. How’s that sound, dirty girl?”

You want that.

You know exactly how easy it’d be for him to get you gushing underneath his cock if it weren’t for your insistence on him not cumming. And well.. it kind of made sense to him— considering how your last creampie went. His mind thinks back to how you looked with his cum dribbling down your thighs as you nervously clamped them together, and how no one seemed to noticed the juices dripping into a neat little puddle beneath you.

It’d be so easy— he’s got you all mapped out and knows you like the back of his hand. He could just push those pretty thighs of yours up to your face, hold them nice and still as he pummels the deep spot inside you that has you chanting his name over and over, and your cunt would be gushing right after that.

“‘Tsumu.” You choke out, tightly latching onto him like a koala, “‘M gonna cum..!”

“You are, aren’t ya? I can tell.” He groans, and his thigh bounces up into you, mumbling a curse under his breath when you squeal at the roughness. “Show me that pretty face when you’re lettin’ go.”

A couple more rolls of your hips and you’re gasping and stuttering against him, Atsumu pulling you just right against his thigh as your eyes slam shut, knot inside you violently snapping in an instant as you tremble underneath him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” His voice comes out deep and breathy, hands tightening their grip on you. “Ride it all out f’ me, rela- oh s-shit.”

Your eyes widen as soon as the sound of footsteps registers in your mind, and your head swiftly turns back to see that Atsumu’s already pulling your shorts back over your cunt, your juices immediately soaking through the fabric as he holds you flush against his chest, big hand cradling the back of your head.

“‘Tsumu..!” You whisper, but he’s shushing you with gentle strokes along the back of your head.

“What, ‘Samu?” he calls out, his mind putting together a silent prayer that his twin was not about to open the door.

His prayers go unanswered.

“You two ready yet?” Osamu’s asking as soon as he flings open the door, the knob accidentally slipping through his grasp, and your door crashes against your wall with a loud thud a second later.

You faintly hear him mutter an “oops” before his eyes are finally falling on you, brow raising at the sight of you clinging tightly onto atsumu as your chest heaves up and down.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

“What?” you can feel your concentration falter as soon as the sound of Sakusa’s voice reaches you, and you’re immediately wiping at the frustrated tears that have begun to collect along your lashes. “Can’t cum like that?”

You’re quick to shake your head, and he doesn’t miss the slight tremble to your lips. Cute.

Sakusa had his doubts about this idea of yours from the start. He knows how needy you always get— knows that despite that innocent face of yours, your cunt’s anything but. It’s greedy. Something like this was probably not gonna be able to get you to finish, and he knew that.. but a part of him was just curious.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see you this frustrated. Your chest is rising up and down with each angry pant, arm coming to rub at your nose from the occasional sniffle after being denied orgasm after orgasm.

And him? he’s never felt such a strong ache before. The dark spot on his shorts are a tell-tale sign that he’s been leaking with pre-cum, and he can practically feel it starting to drip down his cock. Neither of you were doing so well, and if he was being honest, he’s on the verge of flipping you over and putting you in a mating press— but the small voice inside him wants to see you come undone on his thighs. Badly.

He’s just gotta see how you look.

“Need your cock, Omi.” You mumble, rising onto your knees to scoot further up, but he’s stopping you only a second later. “Omi? Why..?”

“No.” he says flatly. “You don’t.”

“I do!” You’re protesting immediately after, hands balancing on his shoulders. “Can’t finish without it— ah!”

You yelp when he’s roughly pulling you back down, his quad flexing as soon as your cunt makes contact with his leg. The hands around your hips are tight, and Sakusa’s setting a rhythm only a moment later, keeping the muscles of his legs firm and flexed to better rub against your clit.

“W-wait!” You’re stammering, whining straight into his ear as you frantically latch onto him. He lets you bury your face into the crook of his neck as he works you closer to your high, forcing you into a mind-numbing pace to have you flying right off the edge in a few more seconds.

“You can— don’t fight it.” His voice comes out as a deep grunt, a result of his dragged out attempts at ignoring the borderline painful throb of his cock, and oh- he was so going to take you in a mating press after this. The second you’re finished gushing, he was gonna flip you over and finally rid himself this irritating ache.

“Omi!” You sob, eyes clenching shut as your hips start to stutter, and he can feel you trembling underneath his hands. “Omi.. O-omi— ‘m close!” He only responds by roughly pressing his thigh up against you, thick muscle hitting your clit just right as you choke out a scream, finally gushing all over his thighs.

“See?” He exhales, breath hitching in his throat when your nails dig deep into his back, his hands slowly moving you up and down to ride out your high.

“You can.”

DAICHI SAWAMURA.

“Feeling good, huh? Don’t try to fight it.”

Daichi grunts when you tug at his hair a little harder, face buried deep into his front as you desperately hump his leg. He’s gentle with you, strong hands guiding you up and down his leg, but he’d be lying if he said his patience wasn’t starting to wear thin.

The sweet nothings he’s been whispering into your ear this entire time are starting to sound a lot less like cooing and a lot more like grunting.

He couldn’t help it. He can feel you so so vividly, feel your juices dripping down the sides of his thigh and hear you moaning straight into his chest. You were soaked through and through, and it’s taking everything in him to stay patient and let you have this.

“There you go.” He’s praising you when you grind against him particularly hard, ignoring the way his shorts are feeling painfully tight around his cock. “Just like that— move exactly like that.”

“Daichi,” you whine. “‘M getting so close— feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He exhales deeply, and the way his cock twitches suddenly has him groaning, hands squeezing a bit too hard against your hips as you wince. “Daichi..?”

“Oops, sorry princess.” He’s clenching his jaw, giving you a weak smile as you wrap your arms around him. “That’s my bad. Don’t mind me, okay? Just.. worry about yourself— this is all about you right now.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

You weren’t as subtle as you thought.

His legs just looked so strong, so perfect to sit on, and you couldn’t help yourself. He didn’t seem to think too much of it when you first sat a little lower than you usually did, straddling his mid thigh as he flipped through another manga that Tendou had lent him earlier that week.

Just subtle movements up and down his thigh was your original plan, but it didn’t take very long for him to catch on.

“What are you doing?” Ushijima’s voice has you jolting from where you’re seated on his left thigh, his gaze now on you and the way you’re frantically waving your arms around in defense, barely able to stammer out a “N-nothing!”

You just barely catch the way his eyebrow raises in suspicion. It has you moving off him the next second, but he’s tossing aside the manga, big and strong hands easily wrapping around your hips to keep you planted on him.

“Don’t leave yet.” He says, stern and flat, but you catch the hint of curiosity swirling deep in his eyes.

The familiar heat of embarrassment is flooding to your face in an instant, and your head hangs low. “S-sorry, Toshi.” You mumble, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Your thighs just looked so big, just wanted to… ride them.”

It’s silent.

You work up the courage to snack a glance at him again, now faced with the sight of his head tilted a bit, as if confused by your confession. “B-but!” You continue, mouth already running off on its own. “Forget it, okay? It might be weird— Toshi..?”

It was just one little flex of his quad, one that had the muscle pushing up against your clit, but the way his name rolled off your tongue sounded sinful. You can feel his grip around your hips tightening a bit, and he’s leaning in to close the gap between the two of you.

“Wouldn’t it feel better like this?”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU.

It started off with an accidental brush of his knee against your cunt.

Bokuto had always been eager with his kisses. He had you pinned down on his mattress, body hovering over yours as he moved his lips against your own— and he hadn’t even noticed anything different until he heard you suddenly moan into his mouth. He’s pulling away the next second, eyes wide as he tries gauging your reaction again, bringing his knee back to rub over your cunt. And … just like clockwork, your eyes clench shut and you choke back a gasp.

He swallows thickly.

Only five minutes later and he’s got you seated on his thigh, moving you back and forth with a needy grunt, his free hand squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Don’t look away, ‘kay?”

“You look pretty— pretty like that. I just wanna see.”

The look on his face isn’t much different from yours. His mouth is slightly parted in desperate pants, deep red spreading across his cheeks at the sight of you feeling good on his leg. He’s swallowing deeply before he takes in a sharp inhale right after, already pussy drunk and his dick hasn’t even touched you yet.

The way your face starts to contort when you’re rapidly approaching your high has him just hoping he doesn’t end up finishing untouched. It’s throbbing— absolutely aching with need and as soon as you start sobbing his name, he can feel his patience shatter into thin pieces.

You let out a loud yelp as soon as your back hits the mattress, Bokuto looming over you with a strained look on his face as he rushes to line his tip up with your hole. “S-sorry.” His voice is just above a growl. “I can’t help it after all. It’s okay though, right? Gonna make you feel good.”