#I regret to inform you all in the tags that the way I would fuck him? unprecedented.

[maximum-rex]

Me: huh. Pyke looks a little too cool to me, maybe I should look up that song he mentions in the first episode.

*five minutes and twenty three seconds later having experienced Days of Thunder by the Midnight for the first time in my life (but certainly not the last*

Me:...........oh no now he's cooler. FUCK.

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Joel and reader's vacation continues and lines start to blur. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: happy new year to all of you, and sorry for the long wait! I was completely flashed by the love you showed for part 1 (THANK YOU!!!), and wanted to live up to your expectations. I’ll try to write part 3 as quickly as possible! Sorry if there's any typos, I edited this while severely hungover

The afternoon at the beach was relaxing and lighthearted after you agreed with Joel and stopped studying so much, and you find that apart from having a body that makes you clench your thighs together, he’s interesting to talk to. He doesn’t give you the same bullshit about university and acting responsibly, but rather accepts that there are things you dislike about your degree. He doesn’t offer advice on how to learn to enjoy those things, he just nods when you tell him you’ve learnt to deal with them. He treats you like an adult, someone who makes their own informed choices – something your life has been sorely lacking.

You head back to the rooms in comfortable silence, and you enjoy the way Joel’s arm almost grazes yours. When you think about the flutter in your stomach for too long it’s ridiculous, but it’s so easy to leave behind the morals and expectations of home when all you’re facing right now is an all-inclusive dinner and as many cocktails as you want. You aren’t planning on getting drunk if Joel isn’t, but you want to have fun tonight. You haven’t been on a real vacation in ages.

 You take another shower once you’re in your room, wash away the sunscreen and sea salt, until your hair is all soft again and you smell like shampoo. The hotel restaurant isn’t super fancy, but you feel like putting in a little effort, so you pick out a black dress you like, and wear your sandals again. You wonder if you’ll get cold – the days are burning hot, but at night there’s a cool breeze that might make you regret your choice of clothes. Fuck it, you think, you haven’t had an occasion to dress up in ages, and getting Joel all flustered again sure seems like reason enough. You grab your purse, phone and keycard, and head to the door.

Joel opens his door at the same time you do, and you swallow when you see he’s changed outfits, too. His hair is slightly damp and all curly, he’s wearing black jeans and a simple black t-shirt with an unbuttoned, flowy linen shirt over it. The sleeves are rolled up to reveal his forearms. It’s stylish. You didn’t expect Joel Miller to look stylish.

"Wow," you say with a smile. "You clean up nice."

Joel just huffs, but his eyes ghost over your dress for a second too long. He doesn’t answer.

When you get to the restaurant, Joel pulls out your chair for you, which earns him a blinding smile. Stylish and a gentleman, who would have thought? Back home he always seemed like a grumpy lumberjack to you, and although you do find him excruciatingly attractive in his flannels, you’re intrigued to find out what else you didn’t know about him.

"Is it really all-inclusive?", you ask, gazing at the menu and not quite believing you can order anything you’d like and not pay for it. 

"Sure. You want a cocktail?"

"If you’ll have one with me?"

Joel holds your gaze, but shakes his head.

"I think I prefer whiskey over that sweet stuff," he says, and you make a face.

"Fine, whiskey it is, then," you say, and Joel frowns.

"You don’t have to drink what I’m drinkin’. Have a cocktail."

This time you’re the one to shake your head.

"It’s no fun, having cocktails on your own. But I haven’t had whiskey in ages, maybe I like it better now."

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches.

"Ages, huh? How long have you been allowed to drink again?"

You smile, but don’t dignify his question with an answer, and after a moment Joel chuckles and looks back at the menu.

"Fine, I’ll have a Gin Fizz," he says, looking up again. "You?"

He wants to order a cocktail, just so that you can enjoy having one, too. Your stomach flutters.

"Joel, you don’t have t-"

"I know I don’t. I’m having a Gin Fizz."

There’s a finality to his tone, but his voice is friendly. You give him a reluctant smile, one that isn’t ironic or half-joking. He smiles back, and leans back in his chair, eyes still on yours. You study the menu again, this time having a closer look at the cocktails.

"Sex on the beach," you say seriously, and Joel snorts.

"Clever."

***

You do end up drinking a sex on the beach, and Joel actually enjoys his gin fizz. The food is delicious, Joel lets you try a piece of his steak and you offer him a bite of your fish, but he declines with a disgusted look on his face that makes you grin. No seafood for Joel Miller, then.

Joel orders you another cocktail when the waiter clears your plates, and you smile to yourself. He’s being courteous.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Miller?", you ask, the corner of your mouth twitching. Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I think you’re managin’ that without my help."

He’s right, of course – your long day of traveling makes the buzz in your head more prominent, and although you’re nowhere near drunk, your tongue is a little looser than usually, and you find it much easier to hold Joel’s eye-contact.

"I’m glad I came here," you say all of a sudden, the thought fleeting, but true. "I needed a break."

Joel’s smile is honest, when he answers.

"I’m glad you came, too. It’d be boring, bein’ here on my own."

"Right," you say, "who would get you to drink cocktails? You’d be stuck drinking disgusting whiskey and wallowing in your loneliness."

Joel smiles, shaking his head slightly, and takes a sip of his Gin.

"You wanna head down to the beach?", you ask when your glasses are empty and you feel a little woozy from the second cocktail. Joel looks surprised.

"I love the sea at night," you say a little dreamily, voice trailing off.

"Sure. Let’s go," Joel just answers.

The air outside is cool, just like you anticipated, and you shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep the goosebumps at bay. Joel notices, and immediately shrugs out of his linen shirt, handing it to you. You stare at him.

"Take it," he insists, and you do, the fabric soft in your hands. You slip it on, the sleeves coming down to your fingertips, the collar smelling of Joel’s cologne. You wonder why it took you two cocktails to notice how good he smells. When you’re done rolling up the sleeves, you look up and find Joel watching you quietly. Your eyes meet – he looks away, and starts walking again.

You’re pleasantly tipsy, walking to the beach at night, wearing Joel Miller’s clothes and brushing his arm with yours every once in a while. It feels a little surreal.

"Aren’t you cold now?", you ask after a couple of minutes of quiet.

"No," Joel answers, his voice a little rougher than before, "’sides, you wear it better anyway."

You flush, and when you don’t answer, he looks at you.

"Jesus, sorry," he mumbles. "I didn’t…it slipped out. Just meant you look pretty, is all."

Your stomach swirls pleasantly, and you want Joel to put his arm around your shoulder, or kiss you, or take that shirt off again. You clear your throat.

"Thanks," you answer quietly, toying with the hem of the shirt. "I think you wore it well, too, though. Suits you."

Joel doesn’t answer, but when you glance at him, you notice the ghost of a smile on his face, half-hidden by his patchy beard.

You walk the rest of the way in contemplative silence, each of you lost in your thoughts. You’re always amazed to see the sea at night. The darkness somehow elevates its vastness, water and sky bleeding into each other at the near invisible horizon. It’s easy to forget about your exams here, with the whole expanse of the planet spread out before you, the relentlessly calm sound of the waves, and Joel’s scent in your nose. You sit down on an abandoned deck chair and watch Joel walk up to the water, pick up a seashell, and drop it into the water again. He seems content to be here, you think. Relaxed. You don’t know him well, but his body language seems more at ease than it did back home. Perhaps you’re not the only one who needed a break.

You get up again, and walk over to Joel, who smiles when he sees you coming.

"You were right," he says, "it’s different in the dark."

You know he means the sea, the beach, the lack of people around, the sand that burned your feet only hours ago now having a cooling effect. Still, his words leave room for interpretation and you don’t miss the way his gaze moves over your form in his shirt.

"Thanks for the cocktails," you say quietly, "and the shirt."

Joel looks over at you, but you don’t have the guts to look at him. You can’t quite be sure what the moonlight and scenery will make you do, not when he’s never looked more handsome, and you’re more than tipsy.

"You’re welcome," he says honestly. "I know you’re doin’ this for your Dad more than anything, but I hope you’re still havin’ fun."

He’s self-conscious, or something close to it, wondering how he could make this trip more enjoyable for you – so he orders cocktails he doesn’t like and lets you wear his clothes.

"I am having fun," you reassure him. "I’m at the beach at night wearing a guy’s shirt who got me all the cocktails I wanted, instead of studying at my desk for the millionth night in a row."

Joel chuckles.

"My Dad should break his leg more often," you sigh, digging the heel of your foot into the sand. Joel doesn’t answer.

When you walk back to the hotel, you feel the ghost of his hand on your lower back, not touching, but lingering, as if he instinctively wants to stir you in the right direction, or keep you from stumbling. It makes that flutter in your stomach reappear.

You pass reception to get to the elevators, and the same woman is still there, smiling when he recognizes you.

"You two enjoying the sea?", she asks.

"Very much, thank you," you answer, "we had cocktails and walked to the beach."

The lady looks pleased at how happy you seem and smiles at Joel.

"I’m glad to hear it! Well, you two enjoy your Daddy-daughter trip," she says, before answering the telephone that starts ringing just as you’re about to say good-night.

Joel’s brows are furrowed when you look at him, which makes you suppress a grin. The lady assuming he’s your father is clearly bothering him, and you get the feeling it might not entirely be about his age.

When you’ve made it up to your rooms, you turn to Joel to find him already watching you. He looks different here, in the harsh light of the corridor, dark shadows falling over his features, his form somehow looking broader.

"Breakfast at nine?", he asks you, voice quiet so as not to disturb any other guests in their rooms.

"Yeah," you say, and before you can change your mind, you kiss his cheek. His expression is unreadable, when you pull away.

"Goodnight," you say with a tired smile, before teasingly adding "Daddy."

Joel holds your eye contact, and doesn’t flush this time.

"Careful," he says gently, voice low and dark. You swallow.

Before you can forget, you shrug off his shirt, but Joel doesn’t move to take it from your outstretched hand. After a beat, his eyes flicker over your face.

"Keep it," he says curtly, "I like it on ya."

And then he’s gone, the door to his room shutting with a soft thud. You shake your head slightly, and press the soft linen fabric against your nose, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat. You ache just at the thought of it having touched his skin, and him now wanting to see you in it, but it would feel like a violation if you relieved that ache now, even if Joel wasn’t there, so you ignore the dull throbbing between your legs best as you can and go to bed with Joel’s shirt right next to your bed.

***

The next morning you feel a little nervous about breakfast – something shifted between you and Joel after your good-bye in the hallway. He seemed so sure of himself when he told you he liked you in his shirt, so unwavering, and you’re a nervous wreck just thinking about saying good morning to him.

Instead of putting on the white sundress you wore yesterday, you slip into a bikini, a pair of comfortable shorts, and Joel’s linen shirt, half unbuttoned so that your necklace peeks out. This time you leave the sleeves un-rolled, liking how big it feels on you, a constant reminder of Joel’s size.

You wash your face and brush your teeth, but don’t shower since you’re going to have to do that in the evening anyway. Although you’re mostly excited to see Joel again, you also can’t wait to have your morning coffee and something to eat – you hope the breakfast buffet will be as good as dinner was.

You wait for Joel in the hallway, but when he doesn’t come out of his room, you knock on his door.

"One second," his voice comes from inside, and you wait leaning against the wall just like he did the day before. When he opens the door, you can’t suppress a smile – his hair is charmingly tousled from his sleep, he clearly didn’t know what to do with it without taking a shower first.

"Nice hair," you say, the corner of your mouth twitching. Joel doesn’t answer, with his brows slightly furrowed he keeps staring at you. Anxiety floods your veins, and you wonder if it was the best idea to dress the way you did, if Joel might think of it as strange or creepy or pathetic.

"You’re wearing my shirt," he says, voice quiet and still rough from sleep. It’s not a question, just a statement, no judgement behind it. You swallow, watching his brown eyes trail over your arms, torso, your shorts.

"Yeah," you answer timidly, fighting the urge to cross your arms. "You said you liked it on me."

Joel’s eyes snap up to yours, and with all the courage you can muster up, you hold his gaze for several long seconds.

"I did."

Again, just a statement. One that doesn’t require an answer, but you feel like shrinking under Joel’s gaze, so you offer him an out out of the situation.

"I’ll take it off, if you want me to," you mutter, and quickly add "I’ll put on something else."

Joel watches you quietly, and finally runs a hand through his messy hair.

"No need, kid," he says with a defeated sounding exhale. "’M glad ya like it."

***

Breakfast is a welcome distraction from whatever happened in the hallway – you drink too much coffee, and try all of the delicious food offered: bacon and eggs, colorful fruit you have never seen before, yoghurt and pancakes. Joel sticks to coffee and toast, though he does steal one of the peaces of fruit from your plate.

"I’ll get one more cup," you say when you have drained the last of your coffee, and Joel chuckles.

"Might as well do a line," he says and you snort, but stay seated – he’s right, you should watch your caffeine intake. He watches you, and after a second raises an eyebrow.

"I didn’t mean anything by it. You drink as much coffee as you want."

His voice is apologetic and soft.

"No, I’ll do as you say," you answer, "or I’ll die of heart failure."

Something flashes over his face at those words, but you can’t pinpoint it. Still, your stomach flutters, when Joel doesn’t break the eye-contact.

After breakfast the two of you get your towels and the rest of your beach-belongings from your rooms, and Joel changes into his trunks again. You walk past reception quietly, the lady from the day before isn’t there, and Joel’s arm brushes against yours casually. Suddenly you wish you weren’t wearing his shirt, just to feel his skin against yours. It’s a little pathetic.

Joel gets you two deckchairs – the beach is still relatively empty – and you put on sunscreen. When you’re done with your limbs and stomach, you offer Joel the bottle.

"Do my back, please?"

"Sure," he mutters, taking the bottle from you, and gently stroking your hair out of the way. He’s quiet, holding you steady by the shoulder when you instinctively squirm away from the initial cold of the liquid on your skin, his hands calloused but gentle. From time to time, his fingers slip under the shoulder straps of your bikini, and you feel heat pool between your legs when he starts covering your lower back in sunscreen. His hand is dangerously close to the waistband of your swimsuit.

"All done," he says, closing the bottle. You raise an eyebrow.

"Don’t need sunscreen," he explains, "I don’t burn easy."

"You’ll get skin cancer," you argue. "Everybody needs sunscreen."

He huffs, but hands you the bottle and turns around to sit down on the deckchair. You watch his beautiful back, the way the skin ripples over his muscles, how broad and solid it seems. You squirt some of the sunscreen onto your hand and apply it to Joel’s shoulders, rubbing gently. He relaxes under your touch, the tension leaving his muscles, and you move your hands more deliberately, focusing on his shoulders, until Joel’s head falls forward slightly, giving into the sensation.

"Good?", you ask, a little shy.

Joel hums, and you wonder if his eyes are closed, if he’s enjoying your touch so much he can’t form a full sentence. You dig the heels of your palms into his muscles, the sunscreen making the slide easy. His skin his littered in freckles and birthmarks, marked by years of working under the sun.

"You always apply sunscreen like that?", Joel asks suddenly, and you flush.

"Most people aren’t this tense," you quip back, fingers gliding over Joel’s neck. "Actually, nobody’s ever been this tense, I think."

He shakes his head slightly, but lets you carry on, working your way down his back, the tan line of his trunks visible and oh so tempting. You imagine pulling them down and try to refrain from clenching your thighs together.

When you’re done, Joel’s muscles feel a little looser, more relaxed, and he turns around to look at you.

"Thanks," he says quietly, and you nod. Now that he can see you, look you directly in the eye, it feels almost absurdly bold to have touched him like that. Still, things have started to unravel a little. Lines have blurred.

Although you don’t know where you get the courage from, you hold his gaze, put one hand on his shoulder, and squeeze.

"Any time, Joel," you answer, and watch him swallow. Then, his own hand comes up to yours, and you half think he’s going to remove yours, but he just loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist, eyes not leaving yours.

"That’s a dangerous game you’re playin’, kid," he says quietly, but doesn’t let go of you. You hope he never does.

"Do you…want me to stop?", you ask him, because you will if this is making him uncomfortable, if you read him wrong. He’s silent for a second.

"No," he says so quietly it’s almost inaudible. His thumb starts moving over your wrist, right over the pulse point, and it makes you weak in the knees. You didn’t know a touch as small as that one could be so erotic, but with Joel it seems, everything is. You fight to not let a whimper escape your mouth, and close your eyes for just a second.

"God," Joel mutters, more to himself than to you, "look at you."

Your eyes snap open when you feel him move, hand still locked around your wrist securely, and suddenly he’s towering over you. You gaze up at him, his eyes bright under the blazing sun, his hair still tousled, his beard patchy and flecked with grey. He’s all man, in a way you didn’t know you found desirable before him, but there is undeniable proof of your want leaking into your swimsuit, sticky and hot between your thighs.

He watches you, intense eyes moving over your face, your eyes, your mouth, your hands, your body in your nicest swimsuit, your throat as you swallow. His other hand comes up to stroke the hair away from your neck, and goosebumps erupt on your skin. Joel almost chuckles, but it’s more the ghost of a breath. You flush.

"It’s fucking stupid to go through with this," Joel says seriously, like he wants to inform you of it – as if you don’t know.

"Yes," you breathe, because he’s completely right.

"Your Dad would kill me, and rightly so," he adds.

"Oh, fuck my Dad," you answer, trying to reach out to touch Joel, but your wrist is still tightly locked in his grasp. You tug a little, but he doesn’t budge.

"You doin’ this to get back at him?"

You detect something in his voice you don’t like – uncertainty.

"No, Joel," you breathe, "God, no. Have you looked into a mirror recently?"

That makes him smile, and you wonder if he gets compliments a lot, but by the way his cheeks gain color, you don’t think he does. Stupid, stupid world, stupid people who came before you. He should be told every second of the day.

"It’s still stupid,“ he says, but his eyes are more intense than before now. You’re on holiday, away from all judgement. You can do whatever you want to do to each other.

"Thought I was the smart one in my family," you tease, reminding him of his words on the plane. You want him to lean down and finally kiss you, or throw you down on the deckchair and fuck you right there, your face pressed into his linen shirt. His thumb keeps moving over your wrist, relentlessly building tension.

"Take me to your room," you whisper, eyes wide, and anticipation pooling deep in your belly. Joel curses.

"You have any idea of the things I wanna do to you?"

His voice is low, dangerous, and you’d be at least a little afraid if this one anyone else. But it’s Joel, who lets you hate your degree without judgement, drinks cocktails he doesn’t like just so you can enjoy yourself, and through his permission allows you to stop studying, lets you enjoy this trip.

"Do them," you breathe, "I’ll let you do anything."

"Jesus fucking Christ, kid," he answers, and finally lets go of your wrist, one hand coming to rest on your waist, tugging you towards him, the other gently cradling your face. His breath ghosts over your mouth, and then he brushes your lips with his in a needy, slow kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and you open up for him willingly. He tugs your hips against him, making you whimper and feel his bulge dig into your stomach.

The only thing keeping you from pulling him out of his swimming trunks right then is the fact that there are people around, and you’re pushing it already with the way his hands grasp at your skin and his tongue licks in your mouth. Any further and you could be arrested for public indecency.

"Please," you ask him between kisses, "Please, Joel, just take me to your room."

His teeth dig into your lower lip, and you fight a moan.

"Ask me again," he says, voice a little wrecked, and the need you feel for him deep in your stomach burns white hot. He wants you to beg.

"Please," you say, like he isn’t stripping you of your dignity instead of your clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed, not when Joel groans at the sound.

"Alright, kid. I’ve got you.“

[clockwayswrites]

Both Ways at Once Part 4

WC: 668, Masterpost

Jason inched forward and pressed his ear to the door Tim had just gone through.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asked.

There was silence, then “Where’s Jason?”

That was Dick. He’d been staying at the manor since it all happened. It was a little weird to have him a round like that.

“Asleep. He’s still getting exhausted too easily.”

Dick would buy it, of course he would. For one, it was true; Jason was exhausted. For another, Jason had been good. He rested when he was told. He ate when he was fed. He spent most of his time awake in the library just reading. He was passive.

He may have set them up, but it was their own damn fault if they bought it.

Dick let out a sigh. “Yeah, I know, I’m worried about that. So’s Bruce. They had Constantine bring in another specialist…”

“No good?”

“Don’t know. He sorta…” Dick laughed but it was strung out sounding. “He phased into the cell and then refused to let go of Hood. Or Hood refused to let go of him, we’re not sure. They’re in a meeting room now. According to him, they were basically torturing Hood by keeping him locked up in the Watchtower—”

Jason didn’t hear anything else. Blood was rushing in his ears. They were hurting him.

When he had come to in that basement, Jason had been confused. He hadn’t known how he had gotten there or what was happening. But also he had. Part of him had known, instinctively, that the huge man next to him was important and that they needed to stay close together.

His head had felt like it was splitting in two as what he knew and what was overlapped. His skin had felt too tight, like he had been stuffed into it. Everything had hurt. And so when his family had arrived and whisked him one way and the other man another, Jason had let them.

He had regretted it ever since.

Bruce and Constantine had sat him down the next morning, explaining that he had been hit with a magical spell that affected him mentally and physically. He had been split into two. He wanted to see the other part of him, but they said no. They had to find out more about the situation first, he was told. There could be a magical backlash. It was dangerous. They were keeping him in the dark, that’s what.

Fuck that. Jason had started using his exhaustion and pain as a cover as he worked to find out information. He learned: - The man was called Red Hood (no, not that Red Hood). - Apparently he used to look a lot closer to how Red Hood did. - The memories he knew of the last few years never happened. - They were keeping Red Hood in the Watchtower. - He needed to see him.

Jason was still putting together a plan, and now this consultant had solved one of the biggest problems about how to make it happen, Red Hood was out of his cell. Half baked plan or not, there was no time like the present.

Careful to keep his steps soundless, which was easy enough in the thick socks he wore to desperately try and stay way, Jason crept away from the door and took off to the Bruce’s study. He was grateful that while things about the present overlapped weirdly with his memories, like half dreams and stories, anything before he had… anything before Ethiopia still made sense. Anything after was a crap shoot if it was real.

The hands on the clock turned easily, his thumb print still scanned, and the door still opened. The way to barricade the door from the inside was the same too. It wouldn’t hold any of the Bats for long, but it was enough for Jason to scramble down the steps and over the the Zeta tube.

He just needed Red Hood to hold on.

He would be there soon.

He needed to see him.

-----

AN: So maybe I'm spoiling you all with another update today, but it is dark and stormy and I'm burrowed into a blanket with cats and a headache, and people have been asking about smol!Jason so I felt you all should get to meet him!

Stay delightful and dry, darlings!

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to the masterpost to be notified!

[simp-ly-writes]

Professionals

─────── · · A Black Ops 6 FanFic

Pairing: Russell Adler x Fem!Spy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You are a MI6 spy with a secret mission different to what the CIA has requested you for; using your information gathering expertise, you pose as Russell Adlers wife as the both of you go undercover abroad, the catch? MI6 wants to know everything about your "husband" just as much as you do.

─ · · TAGS: no use of (y/n), non-canon compliant, flirting, use of pet names, teasing, fluff.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,607 | Part 2

─ · · A/N: I always wanted to try and make one of those series that stems off into prompts and scenarios so use this chapter as the basis! 😊 (I hope this somewhat makes sense lol).

─────── · ·

Monday Night | MI6 Agency, London

It was one of the few nice nights of the year yet here you were sat inside your Directors office. A couple dozen high ranking officers swarming around you, the room tense in wait as the leather of your seat groaned as you took a seat.

One thing happened after another, a team was preparing your looks, another briefing you on culture, customs and speech. You had worked for the secret intelligence service for over two and a half decades, starting right out of university yet had never experienced something quite like this in all your history. All you could do is nod along.

"He'll be sat there waiting when you arrive. He is CIA, Clandestine special officer. A full report will be sent to your room when you arrive, deployment immediately. You are dismissed, officer," was all you gathered from your Director before you were being followed out into a car, your belongings already packed for you, ring box sitting heavy between your hands in your lap. You couldn't find it in you to open it.

"You ready, (last/name)?" one of your fellow operators, Bill asked you, driving the car another office sat shotgun, so much security... you think to yourself, worried for what the hell kind of a mission they were sending you on and with who of all people?

"What am I not ready for?" you ask back, faking confidence yet feeling frustrated by the lack of information you were receiving before going overseas and acting as a double-agent.

"Well, from knowing you, marriage," he chuckles, fixing the rear-view mirror as you shuffle around in the backseat. It was obviously meant to be a joke to cheer you up yet the word marriage rung through your head, echoing on repeat.

"Well it's not like I'm actually gonna get married, Bill. Just got to look all pretty, get the information, and get the hell out. The ring is just another thing of the disguise at the end of the day," you reply with nonchalance before opening the ring box- immediately regretting so as you stare at the most gorgeous ring you could ever dream of.

What the fuck, is all you can mutter underneath you breath before Bill is pulling into a parking sport at the airport. The other officer already running around back to the truck, unloading your gear. Bill lets out a long low whistle after seeing the ring.

"Well, everyone's going to know your a taken woman with that rock on your finger." You flip Bill the finger, placing the ring onto your left hand before throwing the box into your handbag and stepping out of the car. A plane waits for you on the tarmac, engines already roaring and with one wave back to the boys, you are off up in the air on on your way to America.

─────── · ·

Tuesday Morning | Hotel, Washington, D.C.

When arriving to the "Land of Freedom," you quickly hailed a cab to your to-be-shared hotel room for the next few days. Your boss mentioned it as a speed, "get-to-know one another" meeting but in your eyes it would be the opportunity to get the upper hand on information.

Your mission was simple, do the missions the CIA wanted you in, provide them with the information they wanted all the while taking what your agency wanted- who exactly is Russell Adlers and what the hell they were doing with brainwashing.

You were surprised to see how many lanes of traffic there were on your want to the hotel room and once arriving to the five-star hotel, staff members were there awaiting your arrival, "Mrs. Adler, please allow me to hold your belongings and bring them up to your room for you. An assortment of breakfast has been prepared at your husbands request and will arrive in 30 minutes."

White gloves swiftly took your baggage from out of the trunk another holding the door open for you both before leading you up to your room. Deep stained hardwood made your heels click against its surface in tune with the live performance piano. You took in the dazzling crystal chandeliers of the lobby with its panelled walls and luscious plants. The elevator was glass with a gold banister that you leaned upon, examining every exist and staff member positioned for the "just-in-case" that came with the job.

With a ding, you were up to the ninth floor and lead down a cosy lit hallway before being presented with your keycard. A white glove motioned to the scanner before holding the door open for you to enter first.

The room was moody and romantic just as the lobby was fit with golden accents, walls in that signature wood paneling, and floor finished in a plush cream carpet. A kitchenette, small living space and bed set with fresh white sheets and a few too many pillows off to another room set within the suite. You were impressed to say the least once hearing the last of your luggage be placed within the room.

"Is there anything else we could assist you with Mrs. Adler?" the staff member asks, eyes hanging onto your every word- eager to help. You smiled at the young man before shaking your head with a smile. A strand of your hair falling out of place in doing so. "No, I am quite alright. Thank you for your work, I'll be sure to make my husband reward your service this morning." And with that, the door closed behind you as you took in the silence of the space before going digging.

Grabbing your gloves from your purse on the counter you opened every drawer and cranny, looking underneath every piece of furniture in the main room before heading towards the bedroom. The singular bed mocked you as the white sheets glistened through the sunlight peaking through the sheer curtains.

A singular small suitcase sat on an armchair that faced the bed. Delicately zipping it open you took apart its components yet finding nothing out of the ordinary, not a sloppy worker, you praised your "husband" before placing a small tracker into one of the open seams.

Standing back up and looking outside the reflection of another body behind you had you freezing in the moment. A tall man stood behind you by the outline of his broad shoulders, your eyes flickered between the two of you in the reflection. His voice casting goosebumps across your skin before you were reining yourself in, remember who you are, remember what the job is, remember-

"Hello, Sweetheart. Anything your looking for in particular?"

Shit. You turned around, casting a quick signature smile before slowly taking off your gloves and walking over to the side table. You felt his stare watching as you moved around the room as you took a seat on the corner of the bed.

"Just making sure that my husband was leaving me with no surprises after all you do know how much your wife hates them so," you retort now taking your time to stare. You took in the loafers he wore, freshly polished and leather matching the belt looping through pressed dress pants with the collared shirt he wore, a pair of aviators hanging from the unbuttoned part of his shirt.

His muscles bulged from the sleeves, veins casting up from his fingertips and up to his neck, beard freshly shaven and fitting the classy affluent couple look you both were assigned. Your eyes stopped at his face, watching as his head tilted in a silent demand for you to dare ask about the scar running up from his cheek to his nose.

"Already getting protective of me?" Adler teases catching your ring finger twitch at the name with a smirk.

You didn't appreciate him already trying to be above you, "the papers never said my husband would be handsome. How could they leave such an important part out?" you smile, your words genuine but the way in which you cross your legs after saying it as your husband raising a brow before rolling his eyes.

"I'm not the one you're trying to charm over. Save it for when we get overseas, I'm sure they'll enjoy it more-"

"And you didn't enjoy me calling you handsome?" you press forwards watching Adler roll his shoulders before scoffing. "I know I am, didn't need you to say it."

You gasp playfully, standing to tease more of his personality out of him but before you can reach Adler has your wrist in a firm yet gentle grip, cautious of his own strength. "I'm not going to break if you hold me so gently, Mr. Adler."

"Well, Mrs. Adler. If you think I'm going to get handsy you're wrong. Take the bed tonight, I'll settle on the couch."

Breakfast arrived shortly after your teasing match and while eating you appreciated that Adler did in fact hold table manners. Always making sure your coffee and water was filled yet apparently it was a step too far in asking for a bite off his plate as he waved you off.

It was the first day of a mission that you did not know when it would end but as you laid there in the cold sheets listening to Adler hum along to something on the radio before taking a drag from his cigarette. There was the smallest part of you hopeful that he would not hate you after all of this that became overshadowed by the job and everything you had at stake. There was no question but being the utmost professional.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: what did you think?? 👀 I've got some ideas of Adler finding out you have a side mission, introducing you to members of the team, missions gone wrong-AH! So many ideas, let me know if any of these stand out! 😄💕

[writingforstraykids]

hiya! i'm still pretty new to your blog but i really like your writing! english isn't my first language but i hope my request is still understandable ^^

m!reader (with they/them pronouns if possible 👉🏻👈🏻) is best friends with chan. chan praises the reader in some way and figures out that they have a praise kink so he just keeps praising them to make them flustered all the time (bonus points if he throws in the classic 'good boy')

oh and i wanted to ask if i could maybe be 🦖 anon?

thank you!

It's always been you

Pairing: Chan x m!reader with they/them pronouns (mention of Minsung)

Word Count: 4301

Summary: Chan and you have been best friends for what feels like forever. You long for more, not knowing that Chan feels the same. Minho and Jisung decide to lend you a hand the way Chan and you did for them.

Warnings/Tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, smut, teasing, praise kink, dry humping

A/N: I know we've talked a while ago about this request but I hope I did your wishes for it justice, my dear🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You hum gently to yourself as you make your way back home, scrolling through your phone as you try to find a good song. A smile covers your lips as your best friend's voice rings through your ears and you can't help the warm feeling spreading through you. Chan invited you over for a movie night with the boys, and you couldn't wait to spend time with them…or him. Being around Chan made you feel things you never felt for anyone else ever before. Those soft brown eyes, beautiful smile, and warm hugs made you feel so loved. You know there's no chance he would ever love you back, but that didn't stop you from gazing after him. 

You reach their dorm, and Minho lets you in, pulling you into a short hug. “Hey, Min.”

“Hey,” he smiles and closes the door behind you. “Channie hyung will be there in a bit. He went out to grab some snacks with Ji,” he explains and pats your back, leading you inside. 

“Oh, okay,” you nod and glance around the living room, where they've already set everything up. “Can I still help with anything?”

“Nah, you're fine,” he tells you and gently shoves you toward the sofa. “Relax, okay? We got it.”

-

“Fuck, Ji, it's getting worse every time they're there,” Chan sighs and grabs some of your favorite cookies. 

“Worse?” Jisung frowns, and Chan nods weakly. 

“Yeah, they're so funny and adorable and so pretty,” he says and glances at his friend nervously. “I really want to be more than just friends.”

Jisung squints his eyes at him suspiciously. “Just sex or more?” he asks quietly. 

“Not just sex,” Chan shakes his head and awkwardly scratches his neck. “I wanna be there for them, make sure they're safe and loved.”

“Why don't you tell them?” he asks curiously. 

“I'm scared of ruining our friendship,” he admits. 

“You will, one way or the other, won't you?” he asks gently. “You'll regret it if you don't tell them, believe me. I could've saved myself a lot of pain if I told Minho hyung a lot earlier.” 

“Yeah, but…I told you Minho loves you. You had some clarity after that,” he sighs softly. 

“I can ask Y/nnie,” he shrugs, and Chan's eyes widen fearfully. “Then I'll tell you, and you can decide what to do with that information.”

“Yeah, okay,” he gives in after a moment. 

-

You look up as they return from the store and smile softly, spotting Chan and giving him a small wave. Chan smiles back, walks past you, and gently pats your head. “Hey, bestie.”

“Hey,” you smile gently, swallowing at the word that once brought you so much comfort but now is a simple reminder of what you didn't have. 

You see Minho greeting Jisung, pulling him into a hug, and gently rubbing his back. He asks him something you can't quite hear, but his eyes are so soft, his voice gentle, it makes your heartache. Minho giggles at Jisung’s answer and cups his face, kissing his forehead. You quickly look away, biting your lower lip. You still remember how happy you were when they got together, but over time it got hard to watch, wishing for something like this with Chan. “Y/nnie, can I talk to you for a second?” Jisung asks as he pulls back. “I need help with something.”

“You're okay?” Minho asks worriedly. 

“I'm okay,” he assures him softly and squeezes his hand. “Come on,” he waves you over. You get up, not noticing Chan's anxious glance as you leave the room. 

Minho glances at him suspiciously. “Oh…that?”

“Mhm,” Chan nods nervously and Minho flashes him an encouraging smile. 

“How could they not love you, huh?” he chuckles compassionately. “Relax, hyungie.”

-

Only a little later, you're back in the living room, trying not to look all too confused. There isn't much space left on the sofa, and Chan pulls you into his lap naturally. You sink back into him and bite your lower lip nervously. Why the hell did Jisung ask if you're in love? With Chan? Was it that obvious? 

You can barely focus on the movie playing and want nothing more but to leave and think this all through. It's over sooner than you thought, and you're all sitting in a circle on the carpet now. 

“Truth or dare anyone?” Seungmin asks, and you curse yourself quietly. Of course. 

“Not for me, I should get -” you start and see Chan's smile fading. 

“You're leaving already?” he asks worriedly, and you nod quickly.

“Oh, come on, Y/nnie,” Jeongin pouts at you. 

“You can't leave already,” Changing protests and places the cards into your circle. 

“Fine,” you give in weakly and sit down next to Chan, who lifts you into his lap rather quickly again. His arms wrap around your waist, and his chin rests on your shoulder. “Clingy,” you comment fondly. 

“Fuck off,” Chan gives back just as fondly. 

The game goes on, and luckily, you're getting easy tasks and questions that don't make you uncomfortable. Jisung is sleeping in Minho's lap by now as the latter plays with his hair, and Felix's head is resting on his shoulder. Seungmin and Innie keep on teasing each other, hoping for the most stupid questions for each other. Changbin is still reading the questions, and Hyunjin giggles every time he shows him beforehand. You're still comfortable in Chan's lap and giggle as Seungmin spins the bottle, and it points at the two of you. 

“That's pretty in the middle,” Changbin states and frowns softly. 

“I can go; I'll take truth,” Chan volunteers. Changbin glances down at the question before grinning.��

“Do you have a crush? If so, who?” he reads out loud, and Chan stiffens beneath you. 

“I do,” he nods, and your throat dries. 

“Who?” Hyunjin asks, pointing out the second part of the question. 

“Someone I know really well,” Chan says, and your heart drops. That could be everyone in this room, and looking at the others, you know it can't be you. There's no chance. You push yourself from his lap before you fully comprehend your thoughts, excusing yourself for the bathroom. Chan glances after you worriedly as you bump into the table on the way out and exchanges a worried look with Minho. 

“I got it,” Minho nods and gently plants a sleeping Jisung into Felix's lap. “You go on,” he tells the rest before making his way upstairs to the bathroom. Minho gently knocks at the door and fondly rolls his eyes as you don't answer. “Y/nnie, let me in,” he says and waits for another moment. “I'll go get Chan if you don't.” You quickly open the door and pull him inside, locking the door again. “Cozy,” he comments teasingly. 

“Why are you even here?” you sigh softly and sit down heavily at the edge of the bathtub. 

“Shouldn't I ask you that? This can't be more comfortable than Chan hyung’s lap,” he says and sits down next to you, shaking his head. “Definitely not.”

“Mhm, you should know, right?” you ask sarcastically, and Minho grins. 

“Oh, I do…I've seen…or felt…everything you dream about,” he chuckles and gently pats your thigh. “I'm with Ji. What's stopping you now, huh?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” you shake your head and sigh heavily. “There's no way on earth Chan would love me and - oh fuck, I sound just like you,” you groan. 

“You do,” he giggles. “And I remember you telling me to get myself together and finally realize how handsome I am.”

“Well, you are, you dumbass,” you roll your eyes at him. “That doesn't exactly apply to me.”

“I think…I know Chan thinks very differently about that,” he says and is quiet for a moment. “So do I, dumbass,” he says and gently smacks the back of your head. 

Minho's words hit you like a wave, washing away the stubborn layers of doubt that had clung to you all evening. Despite the sting of his playful smack, there's an undeniable warmth in his words, an affirmation that maybe, just maybe, Chan might feel the same way about you. 

"But, Min," you start, your voice trembling slightly from the mix of hope and uncertainty, "What if you're wrong? What if he doesn't... What if it's not me he's talking about?"

Minho raises an eyebrow and gives you a look that screams exasperation mixed with fondness. "Y/nnie, when have I ever steered you wrong? Listen, Chan's not as good at hiding his feelings as he thinks. The way he looks at you? I've seen it. It's more than just friendship. This isn’t my talk to have, though, you know?"

You're about to respond, but there's a knock on the bathroom door that makes you both flinch. "It's me," a voice says, one that sends butterflies rampaging through your stomach. Chan.

Minho winks at you and stands up. He walks past Chan with a knowing look as he exits the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. You're frozen in place, your heart pounding so loudly you're sure Chan can hear it.

Chan steps inside, closes the door behind him, and leans against it. His eyes search yours, filled with a nervous energy that matches your own. "Y/nnie, are you okay? I noticed you left suddenly..."

Taking a deep breath, you nod slowly, trying to muster the courage that Minho seemed to think you had in abundance. "I'm okay, Chan. Just... a lot on my mind, I guess."

Chan moves closer, his concern evident. "Anything you want to talk about? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

The sincerity in his voice nearly breaks you. With a shaky exhale, you decide it's now or never. "Chan, I... I need to ask you something. Earlier, when you said you have a crush... was that-"

Chan's face changes then, but before you can interpret it, he lets out a breath he seems to have been holding. "Yes, it's you. It's always been you, Y/nnie. I was just too scared to say anything because I didn't want to ruin what we had."

The words you had feared and hoped to hear tumble into the small space between you, and for a moment, the world stops. Tears prick your eyes, not from sadness but from an overwhelming relief that floods through you.

"Chan, I... I feel the same," you confess, the weight of your unspoken feelings lifting off your shoulders. "I was so afraid you'd never see me that way."

Chan steps forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His hands cup your face gently, and he smiles - a real, soft smile that you've dreamed of being meant for you. "How could I not? You're amazing, Y/nnie. I've just been an idiot about it."

And then he kisses you, a soft, sweet kiss that promises more. As you melt into him, the fears and doubts of the past fade away, replaced by the excitement of what comes next.

Outside the bathroom, the sounds of the ongoing game and the laughter of your friends continue, a reminder of the world waiting for you both. But for now, in this small, shared space, nothing matters more than the two of you finally bridging the gap between friendship and something much deeper.

When you finally pull away, Chan's grin is as bright as the stars you imagine are shining outside. "Come on," he says, taking your hand. "Let's go back.”

The two of you sit down again, and you lean back against him comfortably. Your eyes meet Minho’s, and you can’t help but beam at him. Minho smiles gently and winks at you, focusing back on the game. Chan gently intertwines your hands in front of your stomach and rests his head on your shoulder. “Tired?” you ask him quietly enough for only him to hear.

“Starting to be, yeah,” he hums quietly. “You wanna stay tonight?” he asks so sweetly there was no chance you’d deny him. 

“I would love to,” you nod.

The evening goes on, but the atmosphere around you is subtly different now. The other guys seem to pick up on the shift; quick, knowing glances are exchanged, and an occasional smirk is poorly disguised as a cough. As the evening slowly comes to a stop, the games gradually transform into yawns and stretching limbs. One by one, the room starts to empty as everyone heads to their room. Changbin claps Chan on the back as he passes by, whispering something that makes Chan chuckle and squeeze your hand tighter.

Once the room is empty, Chan shifts slightly, turning to face you. "So, what do you want to do?" he asks, his voice low and warm. "We could start another movie, just the two of us, or maybe just talk?"

"The talking sounds nice," you reply, smiling at him

Chan nods in agreement and stands, leading you to his room. You’ve been here so often before, but you never fail to feel at home here. He shuts the door behind you and sits on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him.

You join him, feeling a blend of excitement and nervousness. "I'm really glad you're here," Chan begins, turning to you with a beautiful smile that makes your heart flutter. "I've wanted to talk like this for so long but didn't know how to start."

"Me too," you admit. "I always wondered what this would be like, talking to you like this, knowing we both feel the same way."

Chan reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I've been so scared of messing things up," he confesses. "I didn't want to lose you by taking a step that might have been too much, too soon."

You nod, understanding his fears because they mirror your own. "But we didn't mess it up, did we? We're here now, and it feels right."

"It does," he agrees, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of relief and happiness. "It feels perfect."

"What do you think will happen with us?" you ask a small part of you needing reassurance that tonight's magic will extend beyond dawn.

Chan squeezes your hand, his gaze steady. "I think we're going to be great," he says. "We already know each other so well, and we care about each other. We just have to keep doing what we're doing."

"I love that," you whisper, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"I love you," Chan says softly, the words spoken so naturally, echoing through the quiet room.

"I love you too, Channie," you respond, turning to face him. Your eyes meet his in a look that feels like a promise. He smiles sweetly, dimples showing, and gives you another quick kiss.

Chan stands up and offers you a shirt to sleep in, his shy smile making you laugh. You change and slide under the covers beside him, his arm coming around to hold you close.

The comfort of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart soon draw you into slumber, the challenges of the day fading into the peace of the night.

Two weeks later

You’re at the kitchen table with Minho, whispering the details of Chan’s and your first kiss and talk to him. You haven’t really had time to before with Minho gone for a few days. Minho listens curiously, nodding along, and you can tell he’s happy for you. The rest slowly join you for breakfast, and then Chan comes back from his shower after his gym session. His curls are still damp, a bright smile covering his face as he sees you. He passes you, gently squeezing your shoulder. “Morning, pretty,” he says softly, and you can’t help but feel flustered. A quick kiss to your temple follows, and he’s gone again already, getting himself something to drink. 

Minho notices the blush settling on your cheeks and giggles. “That easily?” he asks, amused. 

You gently shove his shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter. “I’m not used to it.”

“Mhm,” he hums, still giggling softly.

It gets worse as Chan slips into the chair next to you, flashing you a bright smile and casually resting his hand on your thigh. “You slept well, beautiful?” he asks, not noticing the blush on your cheeks deepening. 

What the hell? Why were his simple words causing such warmth to spread through your body? Why are you blushing so hard after a few kind words? His eyes meet yours, and your stomach tightens at the love in them. Fuck.

“Yeah, did you?” you ask shyly.

“Of course, you’ve always been amazing at cuddling,” he compliments you, and you subconsciously shift in your chair. 

You manage a small smile in response to Chan’s gaze, the affection evident in his eyes almost too much to process so early in the morning. He chuckles softly, his hand squeezing your thigh reassuringly, a simple gesture that somehow speeds up your fluttering heart.

“Sorry,” he whispers, leaning in so that only you can hear, “I didn’t mean to make you blush this much.” His voice is a blend of amusement and tenderness, sending a shiver down your spine. You can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by how natural it all seems to him, this newfound closeness between you.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. 

“Are you sure, pretty boy?” he asks and your lips part softly, eyes widening a little. 

“Channie,” you whisper softly, shaking your head. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he asks, a knowing smirk lacing his features. “I’m just saying what I see.”

Your teeth bury into your lower lip as you feel the earlier shyness shift into something much stronger. Chan was getting you all worked up over nothing, and you’re not even done with breakfast yet.

“Give them a break,” Minho leans over suddenly, rolling his eyes playfully at Chan. “You’re getting them all worked up at the breakfast table; behave,” he says quietly enough only for the pair of you to hear.

Chan’s eyes widen, lips parting in a silent ‘oh’ as he picks up on the effect his words have on you. He leans closer to you, his breath tickling your neck. “Didn’t know you had a thing for praise.”

“Me neither, now shut up,” you plead softly, shifting in your seat and pulling at your shirt to cover your lap. Chan’s low chuckle sends shivers down your spine, and you flinch as his hand moves up your thigh. You gaze at him nervously, but Chan doesn’t even glance in your direction, talking to Seungmin opposite him. By now, you can’t get up to escape the possibility of getting caught because you’re slowly growing hard.

Your breath hitches as you try to focus on anything but the warmth of Chan's hand, your body reacting despite the semi-public setting. It's a thrilling yet terrifying mix of emotions, the fear of being noticed wrestling with the pleasure of Chan's subtle touches.

"Hey, you okay?" Seungmin's voice cuts through your haze, and you snap your attention back to him, nodding quickly, too quickly.

"Yeah, just... thought I saw something outside," you stammer, hoping your voice doesn't betray the flush of heat crawling up your neck. Chan smirks slightly, his fingers pausing as if he's aware of your struggle to stay composed.

The rest of the breakfast passes with a sort of hushed intensity, your mind whirling with Chan's teasing and the palpable connection that seems to have everyone subtly glancing your way every so often. You're grateful when the meal finally ends, and there’s an opportunity to escape the intensity of the kitchen.

Chan stands and stretches, his shirt lifting slightly to reveal a sliver of his abdomen. You have to force your gaze away, feeling the heat in your cheeks intensify. "Wanna go upstairs?" he asks, his voice low, meant only for your ears. You pull at the hem of your shirt, nodding shyly and biting your lower lip in anticipation. Chan giggles and pulls you into a tight hug, whispering to you as some of the boys are still here. “Didn’t know you’d be able to hide it so well,” he tells you, hand running down your back. “Think you deserved yourself a reward, pretty boy?”

“Please,” you whisper, burying your flushed face in his shoulder. 

“If you’re good and keep quiet, I’ll help you out,” he whispers, and you tense in his arms, biting your lower lip hard. 

Your body reacts with a shiver at the promise in his words, the idea alone enough to draw a deep, yearning ache from within you. You nod against his shoulder, unable to speak, your heart pounding fiercely in your chest.

Chan leads you quietly upstairs, his hand gripping yours with a reassuring firmness. You pass a couple of the guys lounging in the living area, completely oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you two. Once inside his room, Chan locks the door with a soft click, the sound echoing slightly in the stillness.

"Sit down," he directs gently, pointing to the edge of his bed. You obey, watching him with wide eyes as he kneels down in front of you. His hands rest on your knees, his touch light but sending waves of anticipation through your body.

"How quiet do you think you can be?" Chan asks, his voice low and teasing, his breath warm against your skin as he leans closer.

"I'll be quiet," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the effort of keeping your composure.

Chan smiles, that knowing, mischievous grin that always sets your heart racing. He slowly moves his hands up your thighs, his fingers brushing the fabric of your sweatpants tantalizingly slow. The touch is light, almost teasing, but it’s enough to make you gasp softly.

"Shh," he hushes, his lips brushing against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. "Remember, you need to be quiet."

You nod, biting your lip hard to stifle any further sounds. Chan’s hands continue their exploration, now slipping under your shirt to trace the lines of your stomach up towards your chest. His touch is feather-light, yet every nerve in your body screams for more contact, more pressure.

Without warning, he presses down more firmly, his palm flat against your chest as he pushes you gently back onto the bed. You go willingly, your body already on fire from his touch, your breathing heavy but controlled as you try to keep your promise.

Chan climbs onto the bed, straddling one of your thighs as he leans over you, his face just inches from yours. “Still doing okay?” he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“More than okay,” you breathe out, the proximity of his body making it hard to think about anything but the feel of him against you.

Grinning, Chan shifts his weight, and you feel the firm pressure of his thigh between yours, exactly where you need him. He watches your face closely as he begins to rock gently, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. Your hands find his hips, gripping him, guiding him into a rhythm that has you biting down on your lip to keep silent.

The room is filled with the soft sound of fabric moving against fabric and Chan's steady, controlled breathing. You keep your eyes locked on him, getting lost in the intensity of his gaze as he moves against you. Each motion is deliberate, calculated to drive you closer to the edge without tipping you over too soon.

Chan’s hands are on your hips now, his fingers pressing into your skin, his grip firm and possessive. He leans down to kiss you, slow and deep, his lips moving against yours in a dance that mirrors the movement of your bodies. You respond eagerly, the kiss muffled enough to keep your moans contained.

As the pressure builds, Chan’s movements become more urgent, his body pressing harder against yours. You feel a warmth spreading through you, a tingling sensation that starts deep within and radiates outwards. Your grip on him tightens, and Chan breaks the kiss to look at you, his eyes intense.

“Shit, Channie,” you whisper, almost feeling dizzy at the intensity of finally being this close to Chan. 

“Shh, be a good boy, yeah?” he asks softly, biting back a moan himself as he rocks his hips.

“Close,” you manage to whisper, and he nods, his movements becoming even more focused. You arch into him, your mouth opening in a silent cry of release as waves of pleasure wash over you. Chan holds you through it, his body a steady presence as you tremble beneath him. Chan buries his face in your chest with a soft, punched-out sound as his body shivers, stumbling over the edge. 

When you finally relax back onto the bed, Chan’s face is flushed with his own exertion, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He kisses you softly, tenderly, a stark contrast to the urgency of moments before.

“Was that quiet enough for you?” you ask, a playful note in your voice despite your exhaustion.

“Perfect,” Chan confirms with a chuckle, his forehead resting against yours. “Absolutely perfect.” You both lie there for a moment, catching your breath, the only sound in the room now the quiet hum of the house around you. Then, with a gentle nudge, Chan encourages you to sit up. “Come on,” he says, his voice gentle. “Let’s clean up a bit, then we can go back down. They’ll wonder where we’ve vanished to.”

“Yeah, okay,” you giggle softly, smiling into the loving kiss he gives you before slipping out of bed. Yeah, you could get used to this and so much more.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143

[thornbutch]

One Night Only (Pt. 2) (18+)

check out my masterlist! ♡ | pics r not mine.

Part One | Part Two

Pairings: Jordan Li x Fem!Reader, (brief) Andre Anderson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Past experiences have wrecked Jordan’s perception of their true feelings. The pretty girl from a week ago isn’t making their situation any better. Cue angst and car sex.

Tags: Jordan Li x fem!reader, Gen V, Jordan Li is a toxic, jealous, sexy piece of shit, cursing, angst, sensitive reader, sapphic make out sesh, Corruption kink, smut, mature content, Jordan might be a little OOC? Sorry. I wrote this in two hours.

Word Count: 2.7k

Jordan Li was probably the most confusing human being she had ever encountered. Ever since that night, he had been ignoring her. She’d see him in the courtyard at lunch, wave, and be disappointed when he didn’t wave back. She knew he saw her. What was his problem?

A week went by since the night she entangled with Jordan. She had finally come to terms with the fact that Jordan didn’t see her as anything but a one-night stand. She couldn’t explain why she felt so hurt by this. Maybe Jordan regretted what happened. Or maybe she was some kind of revenge hook-up? She had dealt with that before; her body being used to make someone else jealous. But that didn’t seem like a thing Jordan would do. On the other hand, she didn’t know Jordan much. She knew he was number five on the list. She knew that he had been Dr. Brink’s TA, but other that, his story was a mystery to her.

The next time she saw him, she was determined to get his attention. She didn’t care if she embarrassed him. How dare he treat her like trash? He owed her an explanation. If she had did something wrong, she’d like to know. If he wished he could forget that night, she had a right to know. She doesn’t know why it bothered her so much, but it did. He didn’t have to fuck her again, but he could’ve at least waved or said hello when he saw her in public.

She had gotten information from Maverick, the dorm’s resident assistant. She demanded to know where Jordan’s room was in the sweetest way. She fluttered her eyelashes and put her hands together in a praying form, begging him over and over to tell her until he finally did.

“God, you freshman are so fucking annoying! Can’t a guy jerk off in peace?” She didn’t have time to wonder if he was jerking off in that moment, due to his invisibility. She’d question him again later on that, because ew.

She made her way to Jordan’s room, knocking on the door once, twice, three times.

“Coming!” She heard a feminine voice shout from behind the door.

Had she arrived at the wrong room? No, Mark was adamant on the floor level and room number.

Plus, she recognized that smell of hefty cologne from the night Jordan fucked her senseless.

So who was-

Oh. She had approximately five seconds to walk, no sprint, away from this situation. She could’ve made it behind a wall or scurried off into a communal bathroom. She had time.

But she stood there, dumbfounded and hurt.

The girl from the other side opened the door, “Can I-“

She stood there.

Her doe eyes brimmed with tears. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? She didn’t own Jordan. She wasn’t his girlfriend. He made it very clear that he didn’t want to be with her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Wrong door.”

Before the girl had anything to say, she was running down the hallway and exiting the building.

. . .

That was all it took for her to move on. Now, she was back to her normal self. Fuck Jordan Li, and fuck whoever that girl was at the door.

She was undoubtedly pretty, but also handsome at the same time. She kind-of looked like Jordan a bit, but she highly doubted it was a relative. Some guys were into shit like that, fucking the “girl” versions of themselves.

Ick.

She was tired of parties. They were fun, sure. It was nice to get out and get drunk and fuck here and there, but she needed an escape from that environment. She opted to go to a bar instead, one of the local ones near campus that served as a hot spot for the students.

She put on a black, tubed dress that stopped at her mid-thigh. She chose one of her favorite leather jackets to match with it and similar-looking black leather boots that came up just below her knee. It was different than what she’d normally wear. The white dresses, jean skirts, and pink accents made her look cute, but it seemed like people took advantage of that. They thought she was naïve and not aware of their schemes.

She was smart, that much was evident. As pretty as she was, she was also sexy, and she’d be damned if she didn’t own that shit.

The bar was far quieter than the frat parties, but still loud nonetheless. Supes and normals mingled here. One thing they both had in common was their love for alcohol. It seemed to bring them together and offer peace against outside situations.

The moment came when she was asked if someone could buy her a drink. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair and deep black eyes. He was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that.

“I’m a freshman,” she stated. The man laughed.

“You say that like I’m old,” he said as he bought himself a drink, “I’m only a junior.”

She smiled, knowing that he was in her age range and a fellow student calmed her. “I’m (Y/n).”

He took a sip from his glass, “Andre,” he replied, “You have a coin on you?”

She nodded, reaching into her black velvet purse to retrieve a quarter. She handed it to him, and he examined it thoroughly.

“Look,” he held the quarter between his forefinger and thumb, “If I could make this-“ she watched as the quarter transformed before her eyes, the metal twisting and bending to create the shape of a bird, “into her drink-“ he looked over at a woman sitting down, holding a champagne glass in her hand, “then you have to come home with me.”

“Oh, I have to?” She smirked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged and grinned back, “Just enforce them.”

Before she could reply, she felt a familiar presence loom over her. She turned around, met with a firm chest and a heavy scent.

Jordan.

“She’s not into your lame ass party tricks, Andre,” Jordan said.

Andre scoffed, blistering a false offended look on his face, “Lame? C’mon, Jordan, don’t be like that.”

Jordan rolled his eyes, “She’s not interested, got it?”

Andre rolled his eyes as well, his fists bawled up and the once floating medal bird turned into a dense ball, “It’s 2023. Women can speak for themselves.”

“Right,” Jordan looked down at you, finally including you in on the conversation that he interrupted, “Are you interested?”

She was taken aback by the question. She sputtered a little, swapping glances between Andre and Jordan. Whatever this was, she did not want to be apart of it. Fuck Jordan for ruining this.

“No.” She said. Andre held his hands up in defeat, grabbed his drink, and walked away from the bar and into the crowd. She turned back to Jordan then and stood up. “Fuck you.”

“You already did,” he said.

She pushed him then. “No, fuck you. Fuck you for being an asshole to me all this week and then popping up to ruin-“

“Ruin what, exactly? Where you going to go home with him, huh? Fuck him, too? Let him see you the way I saw you?”

“Excuse me?” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it. His grip was tight and bruising. A few bystanders gathered around them.

“Let’s go to my car.” Jordan tugged her towards the exit. She barely had time to register what was going on before she felt the cold breeze of the night air swift through her nostrils and blow on her exposed skin.

He opened the passenger door for her. A gentleman. What kind of gentleman would dare to ask to her that way? Just who did he think he was? Her fucking boyfriend?

She got in, and he slammed the door closed. She stared out the window as he felt the car dip a little with the weight of Jordan getting in on the driver’s side.

The car was silent.

“Are we playing the quiet game or something?” .

She nodded.

He sighed, “Look, you have every right to hate me-“

“I do.”

“-but I need to explain something to you.”

She could feel her anger bubbling up. Her knees bounced against the car floor. She continued to stare out the window. “Explain.”

“The girl you saw, she was-“

Oh, not this lousy and overused excused. He really thought she was dumb. It wasn’t just something she had made up in her mind. This was evidence.

She turned, tears just about to spill past her eyelids, “Your sister? Your cousin? Your best friend?” She scoffed, “You think I’m stupid. You ignore me for a week, a week, Jordan. Then you decide you can whisk me away like you’re some kind of Prince Charming?”

“That’s not-“

“You embarrass me in front a cute guy because what? You’re jealous? You don’t like to see your one-night stand hooking up with other people but don’t mind not bothering to wave back when she waves at you?”

“(Y/n)-“

“But maybe I am stupid. You asked if I was interested, and I said no. You opened the door for me, and I got in. You folded my panties and tucked me in and left and treated me like I didn’t exist.”

Jordan watched intently as she spewed all the horrible shit they had done to her. They didn’t think it would affect her so much. They’d hate to be ignored, too, but they’d get over it. They could tell she convinced herself she was over them, over the entire situation. If she was moved on, she wouldn’t have turned down Andre’s offer, and she wouldn’t have entered their vehicle.

“-and now you’re not fucking listening, great.” She folded her arms and dramatically laid back against the seat. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her makeup was ruined. Black streaks of mascara coated the skin.

“I’m sorry,” they said. “You’re right. Not about the stupid thing, the fucked up thing. It was wrong of me to ignore you, I just…” Jordan breathed in shakily. This was so out of character for them. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

She turned towards the window again, staring at her own reflection.

“And… the girl you saw wasn’t my sister, cousin, or best friend,” They could feel their chest tightening, “She was me.”

She watched in the reflection as Jordan morphed into the girl she had seen earlier. She turned back sharply, completely in shock at what she just witnessed.

“You-“

“Yeah. I’m bigender, or whatever the fuck,” Jordan sighed. They felt vulnerable in this form. They tucked a strand of their longer black hair behind their ear and looked beyond the front windshield, “I didn’t want you thinking that I-“

“That you’re into women who look like you?” She responded.

“Yes,” Jordan snorted, “But I was going to say that I wasn’t using you. Or- I didn’t use you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Do you normally fuck girls and abandon them?”

“I normally don’t get jealous when I see someone else flirting with them,” they looked at her then, “I didn’t like what I saw. When he flirted with you using his medal-bending ability. It was corny.”

She let out a small laugh, wiping away her tears, “It was kind of corny.”

Jordan nodded, “I was… afraid. I’m not used to feeling like this, but I am used to it at the same time. Girls, they fuck me in my masculine form and want nothing to do with me in my feminine form. Guys are vice versa.”

She listened to every word coming from their mouth.

“I guess I’ve grown accustomed to blocking people out without asking if they’d accept both versions of me.”

The car was quiet once more.

“Accustomed,” she whispered, “that’s a big word.”

Jordan rolled their eyes.

“I don’t mind,” she was no longer looking at them, instead focusing on her hands that she held in her lap, “I wouldn’t have judged you. I’m not judging you.”

“You’re not?”

“I think you’re the most handsomest and prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” she said.

They could feel their ears tint with red.

“I understand why you were nervous, but I wish you would’ve talked to me before doing all of this,”

“I’m sorry,”

“I know,” she faced them, bringing her hands to cup their soft jawline, “I forgive you.”

Their lips met with hers, but not like how they did at the frat party. This time was more passionate, sweeter, and less rough. She broke the kiss to climb over the armrest and straddle them. Jordan leaned the chair back as far as it would go to give her enough room to sit on their lap. She took off her leather jacket. Their hands held onto her waist, keeping her in place. She liked being on top and knowing that she had no control. They liked being underneath her and knowing that they were still the dominant one.

They began to kiss each other harder. More hunger. They craved her. She must’ve worn this black outfit in retaliation. She looked pretty in white. She looked pretty in black. She looked pretty naked. She was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen, and now they had her right where they wanted her.

She had been hogging their memory ever since that night. They’d slip their hands into their pants during late hours of the night, fondling their clit and breathing her name in heavy gasps as they imagined her touching them. They pinched their nipples, imagining her biting them. They wanted to see her between their thighs, eating them out with her back arched and her eyes closed because she was so into it.

“Am I doing good?” They imagined she would say.

They’d tell her she was doing amazing as they fucked their pussy onto her face.

They’d have to take a late-night shower, having soaked their boxers in their secretion. Their shirt would stick to their back from how hot they were and how much they were sweating during a simple masturbation session.

They wondered if she touched herself. Maybe she was so pent up with frustration that she couldn’t help but fuck it out of herself. She’d use two fingers right off the bat. Her legs would be spread open, and her clothes discarded into a heap at the edge of her bed.

“Jordan,” she’d moan.

“Jordan,” she moaned.

They were brought back to the present, pulling away from her lips. Both of their chests rise and fell with great intensity. They bought their hand up to her face, placing their thumb on her lip and parting them. She opened willingly, allowing their thumb to enter her wet cavern.

She sucked feverishly, all while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck,” Jordan cursed. They could feel how wet they were in their stiff jeans.

She pulled their thumb out of her mouth with a barely audible pop!

“I want to touch you,” she said.

Yes, yes, please, yes.

She pulled up their shirt, revealing a flat stomach that had the shadows of their abs present. They didn’t wear a bra. She was very understanding of that, too. It’d be extremely uncomfortable for them to shift and feel the hard clasps of the bra digging into their back.

She cupped their breast tenderly, swiping her thumb over the nipple. Jordan couldn’t tell if she’d been with women before. Was she an expert? Or was she just doing what she did when she touched herself?

She pinched and they shifted unexpectedly. She leaned back, her ass hitting the steering wheel and blaring the horn.

It was quiet for the third time.

They apologized for startling her. She told them it was okay.

Then, she busted out laughing, falling onto them. They laughed, too.

“I guess that’s a sign,” she said.

“A sign for what?”

“To take me back to your place.”

She didn’t have to say anything else.

[rubyreduji]

anatomy lesson — wjh

summary: you help jun learn female anatomy

tags: smut (minors dni!), crack, roommates!au warnings: explicit sexual content, fingering, oral (f. receiving), biting, jun is clueless wc: 1.5k an: happy belated bday jun, ik you love cats so here's some pus-

“Y/N, this isn’t true, is it?” You look up from where you’re sitting on your bed to see your roommate walking into your room.

“What isn’t true?”

“This.” Jun hands you a piece of paper. On it is a diagraph of a vagina. Words cannot express how confused you are right now.

“I- Jun what are you talking about?”

“This isn’t what a vagina looks like! Right?” Jun sits down next to you, grabbing the paper again. “Like, this looks weird and this looks fake.” You watch as he pokes his fingers at different places on the diagram.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was sitting on my desk in class today. I think it was from the previous class. I was curious so I picked it up, but I think it’s spreading false information.”

“Jun, have you ever seen a vagina before?”

“No!” 

You sigh. “I regret to inform you that this is in fact what a vagina looks like. Don’t you watch porn?” You don’t exactly want him to answer that, especially when you know the answer (you unfortunately can hear it coming from his room), but you can’t help but ask.

“I’m never looking this closely! This looks different than the ones in videos though.” Jun tilts his head at the paper, frowning at it. 

“Would you like me to show you?” You mean it sarcastically, and you’re not expecting it at all when Jun perks up at this.

“Would you?”

“I- Jun I was kidding.” Your face heats up at his enthusiasm.

“Wait, no, please! How else will I ever know?” You can’t exactly imply Jun go out and hook up with a woman just to look at her junk. 

“I- fine, but only for a second.” 

“Really!” Jun smiles wide at you. “Does your vagina have all the weird bits the diagram has too?”

You glare at your roommate. “Don’t make me regret this.” You pick your hips up from the bed and slide your pants and underwear down your legs. Jun situates himself at the end of your bed and waits for you as you spread your legs.

“Woah,” he says softly as he stares at the area just exposed to him. “What’s that thing, there?”

“Where?” You ask. Without thinking your hand flies down to your pussy and places your finger over your clit. “This?”

“Yeah!”

“That’s the clitoros, Jun.” Jun’s jaw drops.

“That’s where it is?”

“I- yes, Jun, that’s where it is.”

“And it works the way they say it does?” You truly don’t know how your roommate is even real.

“Yes.”

“Can I see?”

“Jun! No!” You quickly snap your legs shut together and bury your face in your hands. “You can’t just ask someone to do that kind of stuff.”

“I can do it for you if you want,” Jun offers, making everything worse without knowing.

The issue is the whole situation is kind of turning you on. Not something you thought you’d be into, but you can’t help yourself. Your roommate is infuriatingly sexy and charming, even if you’ve seen him itch his balls before.

“If I let you do this, we cannot speak of it ever again.” 

“Whatever you say Y/N!”

You slowly spread your legs again. Your feet are planted on the bed so your knees are pointed up and out, giving Jun a view of your pussy again. It’s slightly wet with your arousal and Jun stares at it in awe for a moment before scooting closer.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“What Jun?” You’re staring at the wall behind him, too embarrassed to look directly at him.

“What do I do?”

Fuck. Of course he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know what a vagina looked like until two minutes ago. You reach out for Jun. “Give me your hand.”

He allows you to grab his wrist and pull him between your legs. You rearrange his fingers before pressing his pointer and middle finger up to your clit.

“Just rub in soft circles,” you explain. “You just gotta stimulate it, play with it. I’ll tell you if you’re doing it wrong.”

Jun starts to move his fingers against you and sink into the bed. You left out a soft moan as he rubs at you. He’s not doing bad, in fact it actually feels quite good. At your positive response, Jun gets more confident and starts to go a bit faster.

You can feel yourself getting wetter at his touch. You shift around a bit, needy for something actually inside of you. Jun’s free hand automatically moves to hold your legs open and you involuntarily moan at the action. His fingers dig into the meat of your thigh, squeezing at the fat there.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Jun looks at you innocently, like he’s not edging you towards an orgasm right now.

“More, please. Faster,” you tell him instead of answering his question.

Jun seems confused at your words but continues to touch you, deciding to figure it out on his own. Jun’s fingers speed up and press a bit harder. His circle motions are more like jerks now as he flicks his fingers over your clit.

Your hips buck into his hand, wanting even more. You tilt your head back onto your pillow, letting small whines leave your throat.

“Woah,” you hear Jun whisper. “Y/N-ah, you’re so wet here.” Jun’s fingers prod at your entrance and you try to grind up against his hand. You need his fingers in you right now.

“Mphm, Junhui, please,” you beg.

Your body is buzzing with want and all Jun seems to be doing is teasing you, even if he doesn’t know it. His fingertips slide over your folds, spreading them apart. His other fingers continue to work at your clit, but they seem to slow down as he examines your pussy. Right. That’s what started this.

You’re impatient and needy though so you reach down and tug at Jun’s hair. That seems to wake him up from his trance and his fingers speed up again.

“Can I?” Jun looks up at you expectantly as his fingertips start to breach your entrance.

“Fuck, yes, please.”

At your words Jun swiftly shoves two fingers right into you. Your arousal guides his fingers along and your walls clench down as he starts to pump in and out of you. His fingertips curl up against your soft walls and when he presses in just the right place your legs start to tremble.

Jun takes this as a good sign and continues to do it, thrusting his fingers up against your g-spot. Your mind is fuzzy with pleasure and all you can do is focus on remembering to breathe as Jun’s fingers work at you.

You hear Jun make a hum of contemplation, before his head is disappearing between your thighs. You’re not ready for it and you let out a scream of pleasure as you feel his hot, wet tongue lap over your clit. Your hands fly down to Jun’s head, fisting his hair and pushing him deeper against your cunt.

“Jun, Jun, Jun,” you chant his name like a mantra. His lips catch around your clit and he sucks at it, his tongue flicking out every once and while to lick at the head. His fingers are still moving inside of you and his shoulders are keeping your leads spread and his mouth feels so damn good that you can’t think.

Jun continues to make out with your cunt and you snake a hand up your shirt, squeezing at your own tits. You brush your thumb over your perk nipple and arch your back into your own touch. You’re close, you’re so very close.

Jun pops his mouth off your clit before replacing it with his thumb. His mouth moves to your thigh where he sinks his teeth in. Your body tenses up and you let out a strangled cry before you’re cumming all over Jun’s hand. Your walls are throbbing against his fingers and he goes to take them out but you grab his wrist before he can.

“Don’t you dare stop right now.”

Jun does as you say, continuing to fuck you through your high. When your body eventually falls limp to the bed, Jun slowly slides his fingers out of you. Your chest is heaving as you stare at Jun who’s looking at you with wide eyes.

“You’re…beautiful,” he whispers.

“Thanks,” you mutter. “So, did that answer your question?”

It takes Jun a moment to process your words, like he forgot what got you two into this situation to begin with. When he realizes what you’re asking he perks up. “Yeah! It really did, thank’s Y/N-ah! What can I do to repay you?”

You laugh a bit. “I mean, you just finger fucked the life out of me, but…,” you stare down at his crotch, his bulge strainging against his sweatpants, “maybe you could help me out with learning some male anatomy?”

And well, Jun seems happy to oblige. 

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[eyelessfaces]

take it

miguel o'hara x reader

summary: miguel is tense from everything happening with other spider people, so you offer to help him relax a bit by becoming entirely pliant for him.

warnings: smut. porn without plot, I'm not sorry. rough piv sex, oral sex, light bondage, spanking, fang play

tags: f!reader, established relationship

word count: 1.9k

have you seen him. I'm so feral. I'm so excited to see this movie

masterlist | taglist | ao3

It was late, and he was finally back home. He should have been back home about two hours ago already. 

Worry had kept you awake, you needed to be sure that he was alright and alive before going to bed. 

You got up from the couch when you heard the front door, and you softly smiled at him when he met you in the living room. You left a quick kiss at his lips to greet him, and he pinched his lips in a small, weak smile when you pulled away. He looked exhausted, dark circles had formed under his worn out red eyes.

You could sense that something was wrong, that his day maybe didn’t go the way it was supposed to. 

It has been like this for the past few weeks, with everything that was happening at Alchemax but especially outside, in his Spiderman activities. 

You knew it was a bit more complicated than usual, but Miguel barely even talked about it, only mentioned a certain Miles, and you understood why he was being lowkey about it, he probably wanted to leave all of these problems aside when he finally had the opportunity to settle down and breathe.

"Sorry" he sighed, sitting down on the couch with a grunt. "I know I should have been home way earlier than that but things dragged out." he explained, closing his eyes.

"It's okay" you sat down next to him, your hand resting over his thigh, rubbing it up and down in hope that it would ease the stress out of him. "I get it." 

He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, letting the back of his head rest against the back of the couch. 

"Want something to drink?" you offered, leaving a kiss at his clothed shoulder, letting your head rest here afterward. You felt his head rest on top of yours before he hummed positively. 

You looked back at him and kissed his cheek before leaving for the kitchen and pouring him a glass of scotch, handing him it once you came back.

"Thank you sweetheart" he muttered, taking the glass from your hand, immediately bringing it to his lips and taking a sip of the strong drink.

You sat back down next to him, staring at him closely, watching his every move, and he quickly noticed, cocking an eyebrow.

"What"

"I think I know how I can help you with all this pent up frustration, but you'll have to use some more of that stamina." you declared, nodding once.

"Mh?" he hummed, raising his eyebrows in confusion. 

You nodded again, and licked your bottom lip as you cupped his cheek and traced your thumb along his sharp cheekbone.

"I want you to do whatever you want with me. Anything. Take your frustration out on me, I'll take it."

He almost froze in place at your proposition, like he quite didn't understand it fully.

"Really?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You want me to use you?"

You nodded again, a sly smirk on your lips. He paused for a second, but once he truly processed the information, a toothy grin appeared over his face.

"Fuck baby, you really know how to talk to a man" he finally rasped, pulling your lips to his.

—

He started by fucking your throat, deep and rough. 

You could have regretted your decision when you repeatedly choked on his length and when your eyes had started watering, but the sounds he made and the way his head was thrown back in pleasure reminded you of why you offered him to do this; you wanted him to enjoy this, and as long as he did then so did you, even if you could barely breathe.

He was slowly starting to get close, you could feel it. Your hands that you put over his thighs for some leverage felt his muscles twitch softly, and your nails dug in his skin when he gave an especially deep thrust to the back of your throat, eliciting a loud moan from his mouth.

“Fuck baby” he groaned, before pulling out, finally giving you some air. “Don’t wanna come just yet. I haven’t used you enough” he muttered, offering you his hand so you could stand up. 

“Are you okay?” he asked as you held onto his hand to get back onto your feet. You nodded, happy to finally be able to breathe properly, and he pulled you into a kiss before his hands cupped your ass, squeezing it lightly before giving it a sharp slap. “Good. Now get undressed and lay down on your stomach, hands behind your back” he ordered, and you happily and quickly obliged. 

He didn’t join you immediately on the bed, and you could hear him rummaging through the drawers for a while before you felt a dip behind you, his knees digging in the mattress at either side of your legs.

“Good girl” he praised, his voice dripping with lust as he grabbed your wrists and tied them together with one of his belts, the soft leather feeling cold against your burning hot skin. 

You yelped when you felt his hands grabbing at your hips and lifting you up a bit, putting a pillow between you and the bed to prop your hips up for him.

He spanked you a bit more, making you bury your face into the pillows as you muffled your groans. The heat prickling at your skin felt pleasurable, but you couldn’t wait anymore; you needed him, you needed to feel him, you needed him to touch you, to fill you.

And you knew you would get what you wanted soon when you felt his leaking tip poking against your cheek, the warmth of him making you grow even more impatient. He rutted between your ass cheeks, sliding up and down against your slit ever so slowly. His teasing was driving you insane.

“Miguel, please–” you whimpered, and he tutted, his large hand hitting your right ass cheek once more, the sting making you jolt softly.

“I thought you were supposed to take it like a good girl” he hissed through gritted teeth, and you frantically nodded into the pillows. "Act like it and spread your legs for me" he demanded, and you did.

He teased you even more, punishing you for begging him to go further faster earlier.

He slowly and cruelly teased the weeping tip of his cock against your folds, rubbing it up and down, gathering your slick as you kept on whining for him, not actually asking him anything precise or you knew he would tease you even more.

Miguel grew impatient and it came with no warning, a gasp left your mouth when he pushed and plunged inside of you in one swift movement. 

You wailed at the stretch, the size of him splitting you in half, the feeling being pretty new as he usually prepared you and worked you open gradually, easing himself slowly.

The pain from the stretch hurt for a bit but you grew used to it rather fast, it wasn’t like you had a choice anyways; he was driving himself inside you at an aggressive and firm pace, his hands digging into your waist, his fingers anchored into your skin as he held you in place. The pain was quickly replaced by pleasure, the snap of his hips filling you just right and hitting all the mind-numbing spots inside of you. 

He cursed spanish profanities under his breath, things you were too dizzy to understand at the moment; you were already too far gone to understand what was going on around you except for the man fucking into you in rapid motions and his hips snapping against your rear repeatedly, the sharp sound of skin-on-skin ringing in your ears.

“So good for me baby. Letting me use you like that” he growled, his hand gathering your hair to yank your head backwards, drawing a startled yelp out of you. 

His chest was pressed against your back and your tied hands, and you felt his warm breath at the nape of your neck before his fangs teased and softly scratched the tender skin there, nipping lightly, with no real intention to truly bite and hurt you. “Look at you” he chuckled, his hand letting go of your hair and grabbing your chin, making you turn your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the pillow. “So fucking cock drunk for me” he teased, a grunt leaving his mouth when he thrust even harder and deeper into you. 

A low snarl vibrated against your skin as he nuzzled the crook of your neck, leaving some warm kisses over your shoulder before getting away from your back and your sore arms.

His hands gripped back at your hips, reviving the aching feeling there. You were pretty sure it was going to hurt and be bruised tomorrow, but it felt too good right now, so you couldn’t care less. 

His nails were digging into your body, crescent shaped marks forming in your skin. You only hoped he still had some control over his talons, because if they came out, it would take more than a few days for you to not feel them anymore.

You quickly grew close, so close. Every thrust pulled whines out of you, and your clit was throbbing, in desperate need of attention, and you couldn’t do anything about it, your hands tied behind your back and your lower body entirely controlled by Miguel. 

And he could feel it, feel that you were almost there, he saw the way you were drooling over the bedding, moaning every time he filled you to the hilt at every slam in your cunt. He slid his hand under your body, fingers reaching where you needed him the most, the rough thrusts of his hips making you rub against his hand.

“Come for me baby, come on” he softly grunted, and the sound of his voice combined with his rubs and the way he hit that spot inside of you sent you over the edge. You repeatedly moaned his name like a prayer when you clenched and fluttered around him, every nerve inside your body set alight as you gripped the bed sheets tightly, your knuckles turning white. 

He cursed under his breath before speeding up his thrusts, going impossibly faster and making you whine at the overstimulation once the dazing feeling of your orgasm faded away. It didn’t last long; he eased himself out of you cursing again, and you looked back at him and at his furrowed brows and the vein bulging over his forehead, his hips stuttering as he sloppily fucked into his hand, and it didn’t take long for the hot strings of his cum to spurt over your ass and lower back, pulling low groans from his mouth.

You must have passed out for a few minutes, because next thing you know, you’re cleaned up, your hands are free, and you’re laying on your back. Miguel is laying right next to you, the tip of his fingers gently caressing your shoulder, his thumb stroking your cheek when he realized you were back to consciousness again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worry visible on his face, the crease behind his brows more pronounced than usual.

“More than okay” you softly smiled at him, and he left a kiss at your collarbone.

“Good. Because I’m not done with you yet” he smirked, positioning himself between your legs, smiling at your whine when he softly nipped at your thighs.

“Fuck Miguel, that Miles really should piss you off more often.”

—

feedback is always extremely appreciated plsplspls<3

masterlist | taglist | ao3

spiderman 2099 taglist: @bubuslutty @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @jakecockley @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @cocodiem @pedropascalsidechick @spxctorsslxt @roxannarichie

[crowsofdarkness]

Arranged: Chapter Fifteen

*gif not mine. credit to owner*

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, 18+ smut(ch 12 & ch 17), angst, fluff, mentions of death and violence. I will update the warnings with each chapter.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: If anyone who is interested wants to be tagged, let me know!

Tags: @sakuracyberhex

I sat on the edge of the bed, eyes glued to the open suitcases at my feet. They lay scattered across the floor and I had a shirt tightly grasped between my fingers. I felt frozen as I did the best I could to toss it into the suitcase but failed. With every thought of leaving, I realized that I didn’t have anywhere to go. 

My parents place was still a crime scene and I had sold my old place. The only place I could call home was here, Bucky’s. But even then it didn’t feel like it. 

I did a quick glance at my phone, wondering if I had a text from him, but sighed when there were no new messages. It had been a couple hours since our fight and there was a part of me that thought he would have chased me back, apologized, and told me the truth; about everything. 

The deep purple marks around my wrist caught my eyes and I began rubbing it, hissing at the slight pain. 

“Asshole” I grumbled to myself. 

“Who’s the asshole?” 

I jumped from the bed, quickly to my feet, and felt my heart pace quicken at the man in the doorway. Even with the small smile on his lips, his eyes were still filled with sorrow. 

“Hi,” I breathed. 

Bucky pointed to my wrist. “Does it hurt?” 

I hesitated to answer because of the way he looked at me, regret now clouded his iris’. 

“A little,” I admitted. 

Bucky sighed before nodding towards the empty suitcases at my feet. “You’re really leaving?” 

I gave him a half shrug. “Would you even care if I did?” 

His own shoulders slumped. “Of course I would, doll.” 

“Sure,” I nodded. “That’s why it took you two hours to come back home after I left?”

“I had some things to take care of,” Bucky informed. 

Don't say it. Don't say it. 

“Hm, did this happen to deal with Natasha?” 

Fuck. 

Bucky let out a deep breath while pinching his eyes shut. “Y/N, please.” 

“Please what?” I shrugged. “Did you know she was going to be there tonight?” 

He nodded, not missing a beat. 

“I could say the same thing about Walker.” He returned back. 

I bit my lip, knowing he was right. 

“The differences between our exes being there tonight was that I had no clue John was going to show up,” I defended. 

Bucky ran a hand through his hair and motioned towards the bed. “Can we talk?” 

I knitted my brows. “Are you going to tell me the truth?” 

“I can’t,” he sighed. 

I turned swiftly on my heels and walked into the closet, ripping down all of my clothes and tossed them into the suitcases. It wasn’t neat by any means but I didn’t care. The faster I packed, the faster I would leave Bucky. 

Even if I had begun to fall for him, I refused to let myself stay in a marriage with secrets. Ever since I was little, I watched the kind of marriage my parents had together and vowed to have something exactly like that. 

“Y/N,” Bucky said as he did his best to get in the way to stop me. 

“Why should I stay, Bucky?” I questioned, stopping briefly. 

He shrugged. “Because.” 

I scoffed, shaking my head. “That’s your reason? ‘Because’?” 

Bucky lips parted, wanting to speak, but I ignored him. The only words that would come out would be another excuse as to why I needed to stay or why he couldn’t tell me the truth. 

“You’re such an ass, you know that right?!” I asked after throwing a large pile of clothes into the suitcase. 

“How can you stand there and continue to lie to me about everything?” I emerged from the closet, another large pile of clothes being tossed at my feet. 

“Do I not mean anything to you?!”

I tossed yet another large pile, however, I didn’t realize that not only was I grabbing my clothes but I began grabbing Bucky’s as well. I had been so engrossed in yelling at him that now I wasn’t even packing, simply making a mess. 

With a jacket gripped tightly in my hand, I stared at Bucky who stood there like a statue, not moving or speaking. I raised a brow to urge him to say something, anything. 

Not a single word came from him. 

“God! You infuriate me so fucking much!” I screamed as I threw the jacket at him. 

His vibranium hand caught it before it even grazed his face. I stared at him dumbfounded at how quick his reflexes were. 

“The serum,” he informed me. 

I scoffed. “Of course.” 

The jacket fell from his hand before he stuffed them into his pants pockets. “Are you done?” 

“Excuse me? You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I snarled throwing the next closet thing I could find. 

He caught the pillow before throwing it back onto the bed. “You’re starting to piss me off.” 

“GOOD!” my voice bellowed. 

I hastily grabbed the pile of clothes, throwing it all towards him. He merely stepped out of the way, the clothes raining down to the ground. 

“Stop throwing shit,” Bucky demanded through gritted teeth. 

I ignored him and went to toss another round of clothes but he was two seconds ahead of my actions. Bucky had me pinned up against the wall, hips locking me into place. But for added measure, he had also pinned my hands above my head with his flesh fingers. 

“Let me go,” I writhed in his grasp. 

A hiss fell from his lips as he felt our hips press deeper together. 

“If you don’t stop moving, I’m going to toss you onto the bed, rip your clothes off and fuck the attitude out of you.” Bucky groaned into the crook of my neck. 

A moan fell from my lips at the image of him doing exactly that. So my actions halted, accepting defeat. We stared at each other and Bucky reached for my chin, cool vibranium fingers dragged along it. 

“Are you going to leave?” He questioned. 

“Are you going to tell me the truth?”I ignored his hypnotizing gaze, not faltering. 

“I’m afraid,” he admitted with a deep breath.

My face softened. “Of what?” 

Bucky released my hands and ran a hand over his face. “You leaving.” 

A soft chuckle fell from my lips. “I’m already thinking of leaving, Bucky. But that’s because you’re not telling me everything.”

“I don’t want you to think the worst of me, Y/N.” Bucky swallowed hard, eyes glossing over with tears. 

I gently cupped his cheek, my thumb grazed over the hairs. “Why don’t you let me decide that?”

There was so much uncertainty in his face and I could tell that whatever he was keeping to himself was heavy, something that he wasn’t divulging for my safety. While I appreciated Bucky trying to keep me safe, I thought the best way to do that was to tell me what he had been hiding. 

“Please?” I begged. 

With a deep breath, Bucky nodded and reached for my hand. “Come on.”

I didn’t say anything, simply linked our fingers together and let him guide me out of the room, down the stairs, and down the hall towards his office. Steve was already sitting on the couch, hands clasped together. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked. 

Bucky motioned to the spot next to Steve to sit and I obliged. 

Steve gave me a small smile. “Bucky thought we both should be the ones to tell you about the serum.” 

Bucky was leaning against the front of his desk, legs stretched far and arms over his chest. Next to him on the same desk was an open briefcase, six vials of blue liquid nestled tightly inside. 

“Is that it?” I asked while pointing to it. 

Bucky nodded. “It’s taken Steve and I years to perfect the formula, to make it exactly like the ones that we have running through us.” 

“What does it do?” 

Steve spoke next. “We have super strength, rapid healing, and super hearing.” 

“Why did you guys do it?” I wondered, my gaze jumping between the two of them. 

The two men shared a look and when Bucky nodded, Steve pulled out a picture from his pocket and handed it to me. 

A gasp sounded from me as I recognized the two men in the picture; except they didn’t look like they do now. 

Bucky didn’t have as many muscles as he does now and he was clean shaven in the photo, not a speck of hair on his face. But what really shocked me was Steve’s appearance in the photo. He was a lot shorter and so skinny. I could trace my fingers over his ribs. His hair was shorter and just like Bucky, no hair on his face. 

“You two?” I asked. 

Bucky nodded. “Steve was the first one to be injected.” 

My eyes fell onto him, who kept his locked on his hands. I placed a gentle hand on Steve’s knee which forced him to look at me. 

“Why?” 

He shrugged. “I was tired of looking like that. I wanted to be like all the other guys that the girls couldn’t stay away from.” 

My heart hurt at his words. Steve was a very attractive man, even in this photo. 

“Why did you do it?” I asked Bucky. 

“It was the only way I would have allowed him to do it,” Bucky said. “I wasn’t going to let Steve do it alone.” 

Even with the circumstances, I smiled at how good of a friend Bucky was to Steve. But there was still a part of this entire thing that I was confused about. 

“Why did you create it? Does it expire or something?” 

Bucky hesitated. “You said you wanted the truth, right?” 

I nodded. “Please.” 

“I wanted to create an army, be the best group in New York,” Bucky admitted after a beat of silence. 

My shoulders slumped. “You created this serum to put fear in other mob gangs so they don’t mess with you?” 

He nodded. “Anything to survive, Y/N.”

“I’m guessing Dr. Banner was the one that created it for you?” I asked. 

Steve nodded then I asked my next question. “And Stark wanted what with it exactly?” 

Bucky spoke next. “He thought it would be a great thing to sell on the black market. He’s been after me for years in order to get the formula. Tried everything.” 

Something clicked in my head and suddenly I  felt so guilty. “Natasha?”

Bucky nodded with a slight smirk. “Stark thought that if he sent her to work me over that I would give up the formula.” 

I did my best to ignore the pounding in my heart as I worked up the courage to ask this next question. “You didn’t?” 

He shrugged. “She’s not really my type.” 

There was an intensity behind his eyes as he looked at me, slowly rolling his tongue over his lips. I felt myself get hot in my spot on the couch the more he gazed towards me. 

“I feel like an idiot for assuming there was something between the two of you,” I admitted. 

Bucky extended a hand towards me and I accepted, allowing him to wrap his arms around me. 

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he lifted my bruised wrist to his lips, peppering kisses over my skin. 

My body began to tingle all over at the sensation. 

“There’s something else I want to know,” I said with a soft voice. 

Bucky nodded so I continued. “What happened tonight with your worker, Jason?” 

His body went rigid in my grasp and with the look he tossed over my shoulder towards Steve, I knew what they were silently saying to each other. 

“Please don’t lie. I saw you take a gun from your safe earlier,” I said. 

Bucky’s hands were placed on my hips and I could feel his chest rise and fall with the deep breath he took. 

“Steve found out that Jason was trying to sell the serum on the street for some extra cash,” Bucky informed me. 

“Why did you take the gun? To scare him?” 

He shook his head. “This wasn’t the first time we caught him trying to sell it.” 

I gulped. “What did you do to him?” 

“I had to, doll. I couldn’t let him risk everything that I worked so hard for.” Bucky said in a hushed tone.

“So you-,” the words fell off, me not being able to finish the sentence. 

Bucky softly nodded. “I killed him.” 

My blood ran cold and the color drained from my skin, realizing my fear of what happened had been proven to be true. I knew who Bucky was when I was forced into this arrangement but hearing him confirm what was always rumored about him made me question everything yet again. 

I stepped out of his grasp and began taking a few steps back from him. There was an unreadable expression on his face as he continued to watch me walk farther away from him until the back of my knees smacked the couch, me falling onto it with a soft ‘oomph.’ 

Steve, who was still seated there, went to reach for me but I smacked his hand away. The noises of their breathing and the fireplace crackling with warmth was drowned out with the static of my brain as I did my best to comprehend what Bucky had admitted. The revelation of him creating this serum to make an army of super soldiers meant nothing to him revealing that he killed someone. 

“Was he the first?” I asked, voice breaking slightly. 

Bucky didn’t say a word, only placed his hands on his hips. He didn’t need to say anything though. There was always that thought in the back of my mind that he had killed before but I never wanted to think of it or even believe it. 

“I don’t understand,” I shook my head with confusion. “Why did you have to kill him? Couldn’t you have fired him?” 

Steve was the one who spoke next. “No, he knew too much. It was the only choice.” 

I shook my head yet again, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. “He was just a kid, right?! You didn’t have to fucking kill him!” 

“Doll,” Bucky started. 

“Stop!” I snapped. “Stop trying to work your way back into my heart with that sweet name. God, every time I think we work past something, I find something out that fucks everything up!” 

I was on my feet with a start and my hands shook at my sides, with either rage or shock I wasn’t too sure. My chest began to constrict, the air getting caught in my throat and as the room began to spin, I stumbled over my feet. 

“I don’t feel so good,” I muttered while squeezing my eyes shut. 

“Y/N, sit down,” Steve tried to help me back onto the couch. 

I smacked his hands away. “I need some air.” 

I didn’t make it far, however, before a dark cloud encased over me and the last thing I heard before I fell to the ground was Bucky calling my name. 

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Find me

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Good Grief - Bastille

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Synopsis: Simon has always reminded you before every mission, that if he were not to return home. You are to find him at the edge of the world. You didn’t understand at first, but now you do.

Word count: 1.730

Masterlist

Simon is tired. He’s tired of putting up with the Ghost persona. He’s done being ruthless, cold, and a brute. He has served long enough already. He has expressed his desire to put down the mask many times with you. He expressed that he wants to start a family with you, settle down, and maybe get a dog or two. Perhaps even a cat. Things that he couldn’t do with you earlier because of his job, his role at the SAS.

Before he leaves to go to missions he makes sure to always, always remind you. That if he were not to return home to you, you can find him at the edge of the world. He would whisper these words to you while kissing your forehead. A subtle reminder that he’s still there with you. You always questioned him, you didn’t understand why he’s always repeating the same thing. What ‘at the edge of the world’ means. He’d always shush you and tell you that you’ll figure it out eventually.

So when a two week mission turned into a 4 week. Followed by you pacing around the shared home that Simon had built for you in the middle of nowhere, to keep you safe. You expected anything but this. He promised, he always fucking promised to return home to you. What a lie it was. The way you sprint to the front porch of your home when you hear the familiar rumbling of an engine a car makes could make people think you’re a sprinter for the Olympics. You stand there with a smile, only for it to drop when you see the familiar bucket hat step out of the driver’s seat.

You can feel your whole world crumbling, as if time has stopped ticking for you. Price walks over to you with shiny metal in his hand, metal that hangs around Simon’s neck. Or used to at least. Tears start welling up, “John, please. Tell me it’s a joke.” The only thing he gives you is a smile out of sympathy. He puts his captain face on, “I regret to inform you that, Lieutenant Simon Riley. Has been killed in action in our recent mission. We could only recover his dog tags.” He holds his hand out with the tags. You reach out a shaky hand and grab onto the metal. You stare at the engraved name, ‘L.T. Simon Riley’. You run your thumb over the name. You resolve crumbles as you crash to the floor. John falls with you to comfort you, he rubs your arms as you wail and sob for Simon. John opens his mouth, “he told me this before he went radio silent. He wanted me to tell you that you can find him at the edge of the world, when you’re ready.” Your wails quiet down a bit at hearing his words. “He said that?” You ask, to confirm your suspicions. John nods. You can’t believe you’re going all this but you are, “Did-, did you find a body?” He shakes his head, “we only found his dog tags at the scene. I’m sorry.” You nod and let out a small ‘okay’.

He sees that you have calmed down enough and gets up, helping you up as well. You take his hand as he pulls you up. “We’re bringing home an empty casket, I’ll let you know when the wave off will be.” He tells you softly. You simply nod. You wave him off as he drives away. As you wait for Simon’s empty casket. You spend time deciphering what he means at the edge of the world. You refuse to believe he’s dead. Not when there’s isn't a body, and the fact those were his last words before he went radio silence. He’s out there somewhere, and you’re going to find him. You search through everything, memories, photos, anything that could resemble the edge of the world. But alas you’re not any closer than you were a few days ago.

Eventually Simon’s wave off day arrives. A day you’ve been dreading. It makes it all feel more real and makes you feel like a fool for thinking he’s still alive. You wear a black dress, while all of his teammates, friends, they’re wearing issued black uniforms. Before the casket gets lowered. The rest of the 141 punch in badges into the wood. They salute as the casket gets lowered. You’re standing there, watching it go into the ground with a blank stare. No, you refuse that this will be where your story ends. You will find him.

More days pass by. At this point you’re going insane. You feel like you made no progress at all since the news. You’ve looked everywhere. You sit down on the sofa and look around the home. A home that was once lively with laughter, fun, and with Simon. You smile sadly as you remember the fond memories you’ve made here. You grab hold of the metal that now hangs around your neck. A constant reminder that he’s out there somewhere, waiting for you. Then it comes to you. You’ve looked everywhere but one place. His journal. He usually brings it everywhere with him, except this time. You rush over to your shared bedroom and open his bedside drawer. There it is, in the middle of the drawer where he last left it. You gingerly take the journal out and flip through. Most of its content is about mission details that are mostly likely confidential. Some doodles of the crew. And some pages are about you, and the places you’ve been together. You focus on those pages specifically.

Eventually you come across a Polaroid, a secluded coastal area. Where you have a small holiday home. More like your second home. And with black sharpie he has written, ‘the edge of the world’ on the Polaroid. Bingo, he should be there. You immediately start packing to return to that place, to reunite with your lover. You have a feeling you won’t be returning. So you pack all of the important stuff, clothes, small knick knacks that you both hold dear. You also grab the stuff that he’d most likely love to have back as well.

After you’re done packing and you had a last look at the house. You put on your shoes and grab a jacket. Before heading to the place you make one quick stop, the cemetery. As you drive there you start wondering, do his friends know? Does anyone know? Does he want them to know? You suppose that’s a conversation for another time. Sometime he can decide. Once you arrive at the cemetery, you head to the spot where he’s ‘buried’. You squat down. You read his tombstone. ‘Beloved partner, excellent soldier’. You smile, short and simple. Something he prefers. You place a single white rose down. “I’ll see you soon, my love.” You say.

You head back to your car and prepare yourself for the long drive. But it’s going to be worth it, you’ll see Simon again. During the drive you think about the various memories you have made with Simon. When you first met, at a coffee shop and you spilled your coffee all over him. You gave him your number so you can compensate him at a later time. He was clearly annoyed at first but liked you enough to give you a call and ask for that compensation. When he asked you to be officially his. It was after a mission that went south did he realized that if he died there, he would regret not telling you his true feelings. It so happened that you reincorporated the same feelings. The night that he trusted you enough to open up about his night terrors and past. The details about his job.

Sooner than later you arrive at the holiday home. The sun has already set and the moon is illuminating the quaint place you have here. You stop the car and hastily get out. You practically run to the front door and clumsily open the lock. You walk in with a smile, “Simon? Are you here?” You call out, completely missing the fact that all the lights are turned off. Your smile drops a bit, “Simon?” You call his name out again. Still no answer or Simon shows up. Your hope dwindles. Were you so in denial of his death? Tears start welling up, realising that this was probably a mistake. “S-Simon?” You weakly call out. Hoping that he’ll walk at any moment. You crumble to the floor as you sob. The reality that he is most likely dead, finally settles in. Not being able to sit alone in the cold living room anymore, you run out of the house. Your destination? The secluded beach. You keep running until you smell the saltiness of the water and feel the cold crisp air hitting your skin.

You stop when you notice a figure standing at the water’s edge. Staring out at the open ocean. This figure has the same build as Simon. It is when the figure turns its head slightly that you realize it is Simon. The all familiar mask that he wears out on missions, is being illuminated by the moonshine. “Simon?” You carefully ask him. Wanting to make sure it’s actually him and not a figment of your imagination. He turns around completely, confirming your suspicions. “Took you a while.” He quips. You let out a cry as you run to him. He’s already holding his arms out to you, ready to embrace you. You crash into his chest as your body shakes with sobs. He shushes you as he comforts you. He rubs your back slowly, “I’m here now, lovie. No need to cry anymore.”

As your cries die down, you lift your head to look up at him. You reach out a hand to move his mask. But he bears you to it. He pulls it off quickly and drops it on the sand below. You look up in awe at him. “Ghost is no more. He’s the one you buried. From now on, your sole protector will be Simon, Simon Riley.” You let out a watery laugh. “Oh Simon. I’m so glad it’s only you in the picture now.” He sighs, “Me too, love. Me too.”

“Welcome home, Simon Riley.”

[skullhorn59]

Heavenly Hell 2

A/N: second chapter! no spicey here just yet. sorry!~ im not that good at writing yet. xP Tags/Warnings are added progressively, design changed/fixed with time. mostly proofread! Summary: you have always been a fan of the show Hazbin Hotel in your life - and as you are spawned in a Hell identically matching the Show, you can't believe your sheer luck. you're immediately on your way to eagerly meet the celebrities (at least they are in your world), but your arrival hadn't gone unnoticed... Pairings: Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk x Fem!Reader Warnings/Promises: self aware and insecure Reader, Spoilers for the Show, Vox, Attempted Manipulation, successful Manipulation

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Minors DNI 🚨🚔

"so, tell me, what useful information could you, someone this new to hell, possibly have?"

Vox sits down and leans back in his chair, watching you with a bored expression on his screen. urgh. right. he probably watched you spawning (arriving?) in hell. this is gonna be a hard one to explain. fiddling with your fingers anxiously, you look everywhere but at his screen.

you already regret coming here first, and not getting yourself a fidget toy first or something. or some pills to help keep your anxiety down. shit, you probably look scared out of your mind right now. he's gonna think you're really weird and rude if you speak up like this. or straight up lying. but for fucks sake - you can't bring yourself to look directly at him.

instead - you take in your surroundings. Vox's office. you only know it's impressive size from the Screenshots of the show, and literally sitting in it now is even more impressive. it consists of a gigantic room, an equally gigantic shark tank below, and a big round platform in the middle, which is connected to the door with a long passway. no idea how this could possibly fit into the tower without having it collapse from the sheer weight of the water alone - the only logical answer would be it being underground.

your eyes wander back to the platform, which is decorated with Vox's emblem. illuminated by a bright array of screens behind it, a round control pult sits at the back end of the platform. infront of it in a spinny chair with it's tips pointing upwards, is a rather impatient looking Vox seated.

oops.

you better get to answering his question.

you clear your throat and swallow, unsure how to even start. thankfully, you get your own chair - manifested with a wave of Vox's hand - to sit into. hoping you aren't sweating too visibly right now, you collect your thoughts. if you know one thing, it's not to sell yourself short.

"well, you see, that's hard to explain. and, you, as the head of.. technology.., surely understand that information is a valuable resource. I can't just.. give it away for free."

taking a deep breath, you lean back a little, trying to at least look more relaxed than you actually are. nervousness isn't even close anymore, like, are you panicking already?? well, at least you can mask it pretty well, you think.

"but I can say this much: I have so much information on Alastor," you think you hear a slight glitch coming from Vox at the mention of the name, "and the others in the Hotel, it's not even funny. Just.. I have a few small questions for you first."

a short glance up into the TV Demon's face tells you he raised an eyebrow. is he interested?? you hope he is. with all you got.

"go on, ask your questions."

wait. isn't he usually more talkative than that? nono, you can't spend a thought on that right now. you need to focus.

"When did the last extermination happen?"

"about a week ago."

"okay.. any interesting or unexpected turns of events? I just have to know what happened and what didn't. I-I know this sounds cryptic, and maybe even crazy, but I need to know at what time I got here."

silence fills the room for a moment. you dare to glance at the Overlord again, and he musters you with an expression you can't quite place.

did you mess up?

But Vox interrupts your thought before you can continue it. "... the hotel members fought back against the Angels, and won. that's all." relieved, you let out breath you didn't realize you were holding. okay. that's good to know. so the extermination already happened. it makes a good bunch of your information useless, but still. you can work with that. now you just need to-

"I think I provided enough information to you now," the Overlord begins, interrupting your thoughts again. his voice is oddly sweet. "its time you return the favor, my dear." - of course, he's trying to get the info out of you without paying for it.

how greedy.

you adjust your position on the chair, crossing one leg over the other, before looking directly at him. he's wearing his signature smile, his digital eyes looking  almost affectionately at you, but you know better than to trust the façade he put on.

"I told you, I'm not going to just give it away for free. And don't even try to fob me off with stuff like any of your products, pins, an autograph or similar worthless knick-knacks. That won't work on me. Trust me."

you glance at him again to gauge his reaction, and he seems surprised to hear you use his own slogan against him, but he quickly regains his composure. good. now just don't get any hypnotizing ideas, Vox...

"No, what I want is... actually quite simple. I want to be able to come and go to the entirety of this tower how and when I please. and.." you can't help a small smile at the thought of the Moth Man, "I want to see Valentino. preferably after our conversation."

and again, silence fills the room. you watch him tap the armrest of his chair with his fingers, thinking about your demands. you can't tell if he's going to give in to them or just declare you as crazy and throw you out, but you hope dearly it's not the latter.

just as the silence begins to get uncomfortable, the TV Demon clicks his tongue and stands up. your eyes dart up, and you automatically stand up too. what's happening? is he gonna throw you out now? - "alright. I accept. you may come and go freely, I'll get you your meeting with Val, and in turn, I get all the information you got on the Hotel and it's residents. Deal?"

Staring down at the hand he holds out, your mind whirls for a moment, overwhelmed with the action. you never thought he'd also make deals like Alastor - another detail they're matching each other in. you always thought he'd just somehow get peoples souls with sneaky contracts being signed when buying a Voxtek product or something.

as soon as you take his cold hand, he gives yours a firm shake, his smile widening to a grin as his face glitches momentarily. bright blue electrical currents and sparks begin to flow around the two of you for a moment, together with an intense blue light and a metallic screech. but as soon as it came, it's gone, and before you can waste a thought on it, Vox lets go of your hand, instead placing his around your shoulders as he guides you towards the door. "fantastic. now that that's done, how about we go check if Val's got some free time for you, hmm?"

you're confused.

doesn't he want your informations now?

on second thought - you don't mind too much. this way you have more of a reason to stick around and return.

─❲♡❳▷Hazbin Masterlist

─❲♡❳▷Main List

[catboybiologist]

Transition journal and documentation: Jan and Feb of 2024

Measurements for January are up, and February will be soon to follow! Tagging @whalesharkcat and @trans4hire here. If you want to be tagged when I post these, let me know! The advice for injections is in the journal below.

Some quick notes to clarify things:

I'm consolidating qualitative observations into my journal. Oftentimes these haven't been easy to cleanly classify into different categories of observation, so I'm not really gonna bother.

As I'm sure you've realized, the timing of these observations isn't consistent. I have a private document with exact date stamps for everything, and these are mostly right at the end of the month. But my levels checks don't match up to this cleanly, so I group them with the closest set of other measurements. Sometimes I don't have one that cleanly fits.

I can't trust myself to measure height anymore, to be blunt. I want to ask the doctor every time but chicken out about it easily.

But anyways.

And now, as a journal, a brief summary of my thoughts on the past two months:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

*deep breathing*

fuuuuuuuucccckkkkkkkkkk

Okay. So. I'm not gonna list off everything that's happened since the year started. So many independent things started happening, one after the other, that I had to start formatting it as a bulleted list to tell people I know irl what's been going on. Each one has been a crisis on its own- massive emotional events, health problems, health problems in people close to me, transphobic drama with former "friends", academic&research problems, and a resulting mental health spiral. And all of this leading up to my qualifying exams at the end of February, for which I barely scraped by and passed.

But. With all of this. There's silver linings.

The biggest one is that the start of this year has been a stress test of my overall emotional state since starting HRT. I'm not gonna lie- if all of this had happened a year ago, I don't think I would be here now. I either would have completely snapped and done something I regret, or... yeah. But as it stands? I cried. A lot. I isolated a bit. I had mood swings and anxiety and anger and excitement and relief and highs and lows beyond my wildest dreams. It was intense. It was not pretty. But it was cathartic, and healthy. Before this, I would've processed all of this as a generic, stressful, anxiety-ridden malaise, that would've weighed down on me until a breaking point. As it stands, however, I made it. Not in a neat way, not even really in an emotionally stable way, but I made it. And there is no fucking way that would be true pre-HRT. I think I can genuinely say at this point that estrogen has been life saving for me.

In the middle of all this, I switched to injections, right at the start of February. A mistake? Maybe, but I'm too fed up with delaying my progress because "the time isn't right", so I stubbornly refused to delay that change any further. It's a goal I worked out with my provider ahead of time and I stuck to it. So how's that been?

It's been an incredible and WILD experience. I'm on estradiol valerate. For those that don't know, estradiol is conjugated with another compound, which is then cleaved over time in your body to release it. For injections, that results in a peak irculating levels about 1-3 days afer injections. Some people feel it more than others- and holy shit, do I feel it. This has given rise to "the Sundays", because on Sundays, I'm going fucking nuts. My senses are heightened, and I start craving and reacting to physical touch in intense ways. It's not always sexual- while arousal comes easier to me the closer I am to peak, mostly I just become a cuddleslut. It is WILD. I'm also more emotional and cry more easily. Some cis female friends I have confirmed that it mirrors the feelings they get at a certain point in their monthly cycle, so essentially the fluctuating levels are giving me the sensory and emotional effects of a period every week.

The flip side of this is that I feel like shit on Thursdays, like I missed a sublingual dose when I was on that. After the first two weeks, I started taking 2mg sublingual on Wednesday night and Thursday mornings to avoid this, which helped a lot. My provider specifically said this was a good idea, so if you're dealing with that yourself, consider trying it out. I might move to a 5-day injection interval instead, but we'll see.

I've only had one problem with injections so far, which I'm dealing with right now- on my fifth self injection ever, I had unsteady hands and hesitation before stabbing myself, causing a not-great needle stick. Currently, I have a nasty looking injection bruise. Not painful, and healing pretty well, but not fantastic to look at. Self injecting has been intimidating and scary, moreso than I thought it would be. But the actual physical pain is much, MUCH less than I thought it would be, its just that the lizard brain refuses to stab yourself.

If you're thinking of switching to injections, here's a bit of my advice:

keep as many oral/sublingual pills on hand as you can anyways. These will be helpful if you feel your injections aren't carrying you emotionally for the entire interval, or if you don't have an environment where you can inject regularly

If you have a provider, they should provide a nurse tutorial and consultation for you to inject properly. If they don't, try to insist on one. They'll give better advice than I can.

think less, do more. Ideally, the actual moment of the stab should be painless. Be quick and steady about it. The fluid entering feels like pressure and slight burning, but nothing more than that.

vary your injection sites. A doctor or nurse should explain this to you, but this reduces risk of doing what I did and bruising yourself.

be extremely sterile about things. All of the wiping down and sterile technique you'll hear? Don't fuck around with it. Infection is no joke, and absolutely can happen.

Purchase spare needles and syringes from a pharmacist or online. Several reasons for this- one, if you make a mistake and a needle is no longer sterile, you don't want to hesitate about throwing it away. And two... well, let's make a second point about this.

If you want to stock up on estradiol for the future (if you're worried about future access to HRT), this can be easier with injections- but you have to be careful, and you'll need extra needles (for the love of fuck, do not reuse needles). Vials will always have excess medication, because it allows standard volumes to fill and distribute, and it also ensures that needle draws will always be able to be fully submerged. Do NOT try to run your vial out. You WILL run into sterility and contamination issues. That said, vial expiration dates are typically measured from time of first puncture. This will vary, but for me, I was told that the vials are good for 4 weeks after the first puncture. This is overcautious, but not egregiously so. My recommendation would be to use each vial for 1-2 extra punctures, and open the next vial a bit later. Still get prescription refills as frequently as you can. That way, you can stock up on unpucntured vials in case anything happens to your supply. THIS SAID- if you notice ANYTHING wrong with the vial- if the seal isn't containing the fluid properly, if bits of the seal are falling into the medication, if you can see a noticable hole in the seal, DO NOT USE THAT VIAL. Look me in the fucking eye. Do. Fucking. NOT. get sepsis. Do not fuck around with this. The flexibility to be cautious about your vials is a great reason to stock up on a bit extra in the first place.

To anyone in the US, if you're comfortable with doing this to stock up, I would highly, HIGHLY recommend starting this now. Slowly start using your vials for 1-2 punctures extra, stock up unbroken vials. Just in case something bad happens after the elections.

Typically, your medication will come with two sizes of needles- a draw needle (puncture the seal and draw medication into the syringe) and an injection needle. You might want to consider going *slightly* smaller on one or both of those needles. Estradiol is dissolved in a viscous oil as medication, and can be difficult to draw and dispense as a result. But, if you're patient, a smaller gauge might help. For the draw needle, it can help do less damage to the seal and preserve it a bit longer. For the injection needle, if you have a bit more sensitive skin, it might be comforting. Don't deviate too much, though, ESPECIALLY without a medical professional involved.

Remember that I'm not a medical professional, please consult one whenever possible.

I'm still on spiro for now, and I'm continuing it until my next levels check comes back clean. I don't want to erase months of progress getting my levels up by dropping it too early.

Measurement-wise, there hasn't been much change. But I'm starting to realize that the measurements aren't really telling the full story. My breasts look so much larger and, for lack of a better word, breast-like than they did even a couple months ago, but that hasn't been coming through in the measurements very well. I think what's happening is that my fat around my sides is shrinking at the same time my breasts are growing. This is reflected a bit in terms of underbust and waist measurements, but it still seems more dramatic than those are letting on.

Face wise, I think I'm really seeing some changes now. It's hard to put into words, but I'm starting to look more and more androgynous or femme by default, especially if I shave. I'm estatic, honestly, and I hope the trend continues. My chin and nose continue to be problems, but as the structure of the face around them changes, that's becoming less and less true.

I've been getting laser, but so far it's done pretty much nothing. There's lag time, and some of my health issues meant that I had to delay a session and get both sessions at a much lower power than I would've like. I was really hoping to have visible hair removal by June or so, but it looks like that's not happening. That kinda stings, and is a huge blow to my ability to pass by the one-year mark, which has been my target.

I think my boymoding has been holding, for the most part, although its been harder. Even with my sports bras, small bumps are visible under a t shirt, and the face changes won't be unnoticable forever. I've def been more loudly bisexual, and I think most people just write it off as me being fruity. Cis people can also be pretty oblivious, especially when changes are gradual. That being said, I've been coming out slowly to people, giving my usual speech of "I'm still presenting as a man for now, but just so you know this is what's going on", which removes a lot of the pressure and anxiety from boymoding. Still, I haven't told everyone (notably, labmates and family), and my timeline of social transition between June and August seems to be holding steady.

So uh, yeah. If you're curious about anything specifically, I'm an open book, although I may move it to DMs if it gets too personal. Hope that my progress updates are helpful to at least someone!

[sundew199]

Mutual Relief

a/n: phew, haven't written gallirei in a while, felt good to write them again

tags: reiner x porco, gallirei, size!kink, top!reiner braun, bottom!porco galliard, anal!sex, anal!fingering, oral sex, size difference

kinktober day 14 for anon: size!kink

!!minors dni!!

Orange hues with shades of purple and pink painted the sky, seeping through the thin curtain on the window the room. Reiner stood in the center, hands shoved in his pockets waiting for someone to enter, rocking forward and back on his heels with impatience.

Heated words led to this encounter that had yet to begin, an exchange of jabs and empty challenges that fueled the ego of him and the other. In any other circumstance this wouldn't be happening, but Reiner was over trying to decipher the meaning behind why things happened.

"I hope you plan on holding up your end of the deal Braun."

Gruff demanding words pulled Reiner to find their source, watching as Porco entered the room, swiftly locking the door and starting to shuck off his green bomber jacket, leaving his fairly toned arms on display. Reiner rolled his eyes, exhaling the breath through his nose as an answer to the question thrown at him.

"As long as if I can expect the same from you Galliard."

A snort was returned, another nonverbal answer to a question that was asked, something very usual for the two of them. Reiner turned fully to face him, eyeing the shorter man up and down and wondering how this would go down. Who would do what, and who would get the most out of this.

All of this started when Porco paid a visit to his office, demanding to know what the strategies and plans were for their next mission departure out to Fort Slava. Reiner rarely indulged the antics of the younger man, but today he felt like it, informing Porco to go bother Zeke rather than him for once. But Porco had already tried that and met no success, going down the chain of command. Truthfully, Reiner was already irritated before he walked in, and all the other titan shifter did was fuel the irritation, prompting the comment of 'needing to get laid.'

Which Reiner shot back with 'I could say the same about you.' and thus the back and forth between them began, eventually Porco blurting out for him to just fuck him and get it over with and Reiner taking it seriously. Porco went back on his statement quickly, turning red and embarrassed and Reiner finding some satisfaction in that, asking what he expected when asking such a thing. Of course the younger beat around the bush and didn't give his superior an answer, trying to grill him with questions as well. But Reiner was unfazed by it all, inwardly admitting his small crush on Porco had grown, but knowing it wouldn't bring him any good if he acted on it, for certain reasons obviously. Though Reiner could see the want in the other's eyes after the initial conversation calmed down a bit, the feelings he'd been adamantly denying for however long at this point. Leading them to agree to relieve each other's stress and never talk about it again. Maybe.

Porco stood in front of Reiner in the center of the room, tilting his head back just enough to meet the golden eyes that looked ethereal as the glow of the setting sun caught them. It was hard to admit that Reiner was an attractive man, putting aside what went down in Paradis, there was just no way that the puny whiny boy in the warrior program was taller and bigger than him now, so much bigger.

"Are you waiting for an invitation?" Snarking to the other man, almost regretting it when Reiner huffed while throwing off the tan overcoat and walking Porco back into the wall, pressing him there with his chest, keeping his lips a movement away from his. Reiner's cunning smirk momentarily confused Porco, swearing the man was only capable of expressing sorrow and pity, but not complaining in the slightest. Reiner kept him to the wall as he rolled up the sleeves to his white button up, fixing one palm on the wall beside his head and the other working open the first few buttons of his shirt.

"Do I need one?"

Something hot ignited in Poroc's gut at the low rasp in the blonde voice, the eagerness similar to that of a predator corning their prey. He swallowed, shaking his head as a response and listening to the low hum crawling up Braun's throat.

Without another word, Porco gripped the open sides of Reiner's shirt and smashed him into a kiss, all teeth and tongue, resulting his Reiner's body slamming him back into the wall as a warning. The further realization that Reiner really was bigger than him was setting in, he could easily throw his own weight around if he wanted to, and oddly enough that was arousing.

"Have you done anything like this before?"

The question oddly annoyed Porco, because of course he's experienced, he's not a virgin. But Reiner could tell he took the question incorrectly, the annoyance pinched into his brow and pulling a chuckle from the blonde.

"With a guy Pock."

"Don't call me that." Hissing back, letting out a breath and tipping his head back to hit the wall, gathering a proper answer to give to the other. "And no."

A low amused hum echoed outside of Porco's ear, Reiner leaning in close to the side of his face, letting his breath fan over the heated skin. "In that case, do you want me to lead? Are you comfortable with that?"

Surprisingly, Braun sounded sincere with his offer, not as domineering and brash as he had been at times since returning from Paradis. Porco pushed him back a bit to look at his face, breathlessly nodding and watching the soft eyes of the blonde flood with lust instantly at his answer.

Hands much larger than his gripped at his waist, replanting him against the wall with a desperate force, undoing his belt and letting it hang open as he surprised the younger with a kiss. It wasn't sweet or soft, but it wasn't bruising or forceful like the first, long and deep with want and need mingling between the flesh. Porco tried not whine, but failed when a hand from his hip slipped to caress the back of his neck, rather endearingly. Braun's touch was so contrasting, like his own hands couldn't make up their mind on how they wanted to handle him.

Reaching for Reiner's belt to even the playing field, the remaining hand on his hips prevented him at the wrist, squeezing with enough force to get his point across but not too harsh to want to rip it away. Porco met his eyes when he pulled away, watched his broad chest heave with breaths, mirroring the ones he was inhaling as well.

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Christ Braun we're not lovers-"

"I asked if you wanted me to lead and you said yes, so let me."

Reminding Porco harsher than expected, irritation present in his tone with the rush from the other. Lovers or not, Reiner wasn't a brute that took what he wanted and Porco didn't exactly understand the preparation it took to bedding a man, obviously. With pinched brows, Porco conceded, letting the urge to hurry things along dissipate as Reiner untucked his shier all the way, undoing the remaining buttons.

Gods it was unfair the physique this man was blessed with, carved and sculpted by Ymir herself it seemed with the toned arms and chest, the hardened muscle that cascaded down his torso, wondering if Braun's body allowed him to hold the experience he did.

Wordlessly, Reiner instructed Porco to strip, not wanting to take another chance of resistance from him by doing it for him, stepping back while pulling his belt from the loops to toss to the floor.

Porco tried to avert his eyes as the white tee he wore came over his head, eyeing the way Reiner casually undressed as if he weren't there. They've been naked around each other before, but not like this and not with such a clear view either, intimidating almost.

Before Porco could even properly step out of his pants, Reiner was taking him by the shoulders and tossing him onto the bed, a renewed confidence in his actions. Porco grunted, trying to sit up on his elbows but was instantly pushed back down by Reiner's lips meeting his and pressing his body closer to his. Porco knew if he continued to push back on Reiner's guidance, he wouldn't find the enjoyment or relief he sought prompting this encounter to begin with, slowly caving the closer his head got to the single pillow below him.

Each kiss alternated between slow and hurried, like the hunger in either them couldn't quite be quelled all the way no matter how much they reached for each other. The breaths released into their mouths was hot and arousing, and with Reiner's crotch teasingly hovering over his, the yearning for friction grew impossible to ignore.

"I get easing into things but I'm about to lose it if you don't do something other than kiss me jackass."

Muttering into the mouth above him, unclenching his fist from his side, nearly letting it roam up with toned arm just off to the side of his face.

Reiner laughed, pulling away finally and reaching his hand down to palm the half erection sheathed by the only reaming article of clothing on Porco, smirking like the smug bastard he was seeing the younger's eyes roll back into his head from a simple touch.

"Like this?"

"Uh huh - shit."

He couldn't help but laugh softly, his own dick twitching with excitement and building with arousal as he palmed and stroked over the clothed erection. Reiner hummed approvingly, dipping his face down beneath Galliard's jaw to mouth at his jugular, sucking the flesh into his mouth and soothing it with a swipe of his tongue, working his way down slowly just above his collarbone. Porco was sighing delightfully to the sinful mouth doing the simplest of actions, skin prickling with anticipation and arousal, needing more that what he was receiving.

Much to his dismay, Braun's hand moved away from his now throbbing erection, moving further down his body, dragging the tip of his hooked nose between his pectorals and stopping to meet his eyes.

Porco felt in uptake in his heart beat, like the gaze of god was on him and looking directly into his soul. He tried not to let it show but knew he failed when Braun laughed against his sternum, brushing a kiss over his skin and moving his attention to the left. Already so overtaken by bliss, Porco hadn't expected the tip of the blondes tongue to flick over his nipple so teasingly, wasting no time in doing it again. A groan or two slipped out and he didn't care at this point, giving in to full enjoyment of the pleasure Reiner was offering.

Eventually, Reiner sucked the dusty red nipple into his mouth, sneaking in nips with his teeth and swirls of his tongue, feeling the man below lose his mind over the simplest touch. It was enjoyable to see the hardheaded cocky Porco Galliard writhe and moan to his mouth, but not in a rivalry sort of way. Deep down Reiner cared about Porco and he was glad to bring him to be this comfortable for a one time thing.

All his senses continued to dull the longer Braun's hot mouth remained on his chest, his thick fingers tweaking and pulling the neglected nipple not doing much to help either, knowing fully well he was leaking underneath his briefs.

Reiner eventually pulled away, leaving the buds swollen and red, sitting back on his feet, pushing his hair back and looking down between Porco's legs. And it was as if Galliard could read his mind with the way he started to pull them down, helping him and tossing them over to the side, revealing himself fully to him now. It was hard not to pleasely sigh at the sight of his angry aching cock, looking so neglected and in need of attention.

Not saying anything, reaching over to the bedside table, Reiner dug around in the drawer until he found what he was looking for, revealing the vial of clear liquid that had the younger's brow arching with confusion.

"What's that?"

"Lubrication."

"For what?"

Try as he might not to laugh, Reiner couldn't help it, popping the lid open. "What do you think Porco?"

Now he felt demeaned and looked down upon, sitting up with a scowl. "That's why I'm asking, I don't know."

"It's to make it easier for penetration, since neither of us are women..." Trailing off in hopes that Porco would be able to figure out the rest without his further explanation. And he did with the instant wipe of his scowl with realization, letting out a silent 'oh' and nodding timidly.

Scooting further down the bed until he lay almost flat, Reiner brought a leg to rest over his shoulder, holding it there when he began to feel Porco pull it away, flitting his eyes up to see the blatant anxiety on his face. Understandable on his end, having never done this before, so Reiner let began to gently caress his knee.

"Do you trust me?"

Porco didn't answer right away, because yes he did trust Braun even if he liked to act otherwise, this was just all so new and he didn't like uncertainties that came with trying something new and out of his comfort zone but he would trust Braun in this.

"Yea,"

A nod was all that came from the blonde, moving the leg back over his shoulder all the way and dragging his lips down his inner thigh, pressing soft teasing kisses along the way. Porco shivered with each one, resisting the urge to arch his back and bend to the touch of the other. Reiner eventually hummed into the junction of his thigh, the scruff of his cheek barely brushing along the shaft of Galliard's cock, earning a hitch in his breath.

"Just try and stay relaxed for me, alright?"

Suddenly hearing the instructions, peaking an eye open to see the blonde, tipping the vial of clear liquid over two of his fingers, sort of having an idea of what was coming next. Porco nodded, chewing at the skin of his bottom lip and forcing himself to relax, waiting for the initial touch.

It shouldn't have shocked him how cold the fingers might be, but it did, whining as one of the circled around his hole tentatively. Braun continued to kiss both of his inner thighs as he circled and massaged between his legs, offering distraction from what his initial goal of being down there was, aiding Porco just a little.

The press of the circling finger had him immediately tensing, even after the instruction to relax, it couldn't be helped as it was an instinct. Braun sighed, breath cascading over the damp skin where his lips had been, moving to hover over Porco again but keeping his hand down between this legs.

"Relax, baby."

Porco's upper lip curled at the pet name that rolled off his tongue so easily and seeing the enjoyment that the blonde got from that, using it as his opening to press the tip of his finger inside him. Porco's mouth instantly fell open, beginnings of some noise coming forth but silenced by Braun smashing a kiss into him. Reluctantly he accepted the kiss, knowing it was to distract him and keep him relaxed, loosening the tension in his body and kissing the blonde back. Reiner hummed and languidly moved his lips with Galliard, carefully easing more of his lubed finger inside him until he was down to the last knuckle. He kept it there so Galliard could adjust, eagerly making out with him for a time until drawing it back out.

"Fuck I-" Words dying on his lips as Braun pushed his finger in and out, slowly, stretching him out at an almost maddening pace.

"Feel good?"

"Sort of, I don't know-"

Tipping his head down for one last kiss, Reiner moved down his body again, but stopping right where Galliard cock lay flat against his stomach, leaking pre. Knowing this would better keep the younger's mind off of his moving finger, instead of peppering his inner thighs in kisses, Reiner engulfed the head of his cock without warning, slapping his free hand to Porco's hip when he rose off the bed.

Writhing and arching would've made him feel pathetic if he didn't feel so good at the moment, Braun's warm mouth sucking down his cock in time with his finger. Shit, every part of this man was fucking huge, he could only imagine how big his dick was going to be. Fuck, would he even be able to take it? Didn't matter, parts of him wanted to be split open by the bigger man.

Whining when the tip of his cock pressed against the back of Braun's throat, Porco threaded his hand into the thick blonde hair on his head, debating if he should hold him there or just hold on for stability. Reiner hummed amusingly when he felt the hand, vibrations pulling another moan from Porco and a prime opportunity to work a second finger inside.

"Jesus fuck!"

Ultimately pulling his hand away from Braun's hair and digging the heel of his palms into his eyes, stifling the whimper of the abundance of stimulation he was experiencing. Now it was starting to feel good, the warmth of his mouth and steady pump of his fingers inflaming the lust simmering in his gut, running hot through his veins and bringing forth a sort of greediness.

Coming off with a pop, Reiner smiled smugly seeing Galliard lost in the throes of pleasure, deciding to scissor and pump his two thick fingers faster. And it was a stroke of luck sort of, not expecting the debauched moan that came from the other at the sudden change of pace, witnessing his enjoyment for the prep of what was to come.

After eventually adding a third finger and doing enough prep, Reiner pulled his fingers out and finally discarded his own briefs, watching Galliards eyes widen at the sight of his cock.

"Fuck you're big, shit."

"Hm I guess, but you should be fine." Responding sort of nonchalantly, massaging the clear liquid from the vial onto his dick, pumping himself absentmindedly as Porco watched.

With one hand holding himself at the base, the other planted beside Galliard's head, face to face where their noses almost touched. Slowly, he pressed the tip to the prepped hole, sucking in a sharp breath at the taste of how tight Galliard was going to be. Shit maybe he should've prepped him more, Porco noticeably smaller than him and yet that turned him on as he thought about it.

Taking in another deep breath, Reiner pushed his hips forward slowly until he was past the tight ring of muscle, holding himself there for a moment. Porco might as well have had the air knocked out of with with the way his nails dug into his shoulder and his breathing all but stopped, eventually taking down rapid sucks of air as he adjusted around Reiner. Even after all that prep, the sting lingered and outweighed the pleasure, making it hard to find the strength to give Reiner the go ahead to start moving.

"It'll feel better once I move, I'll go slow." Sighing into Galliard's cheek, pushing more of himself inside until bottoming out, pulling his hips back not even after a second and pushing them back in, over and over as slow as he could.

The more he moved, the more the tension and burn faded away, releasing his nails that dug into Braun's flesh, letting them fall to his side. Relaxing even further gave the signal for Reiner to pick up the pace, breathing heavy and hard from above and biting down on his bottom lip.

"Fuck you're so tight, feel so good."

Breathlessly confessing, pulling a moan from Porco and not even questioning why his words swirled the heat in his gut, prompting him to pull the blonde down for a kiss. Reiner groaned into, gripping the younger's hip and snapping his hips a bit faster. He couldn't help himself, he was so tight and warm, squeezing the life out of him and he could admit to himself that it was addicting. Porco gasped and whined into each kiss, digging his hand into the back of Braun's hair, tugging with each thrust and urging him to fuck into faster.

Braun was stretching him out so good, that stupid fat cock performing wonders for the lack of action on his end and wondering if maybe he could convince the blonde to do this again, form a little agreement. I mean shit, Porco wouldn't mind, and he didn't think anyone else that got fucked by him did either.

"Faster, stop holding out on me." Demanding unexpectedly, breaking the kiss and raising his hips off the bed to meet Reiner's.

"Fucking eager huh?" Smirking down at him, snapping his hips with the force to move Galliard's entire body. Porco met him with a laugh, like it were now a challenge and he wouldn't pass that up.

Suddenly, Reiner pulled out and easily flipped Porco over onto his stomach, surprising the younger and almost turning around to ask what the hell he was doing.

"Arch."

"Hell no! I'm not-"

"You want me to fuck you faster or not?" Deadpanning back like it were obvious and not caring what the other may think about said position.

Rolling his eyes, Porco moved onto his knees holding himself up by his elbows. Reiner smirked, smacking his palm over his ass and brought him back until he almost pressed into him. Without warning, Reiner thrusted inside, keeping his hips flush with Galliard's and letting out a deep approving groan.

Pressing himself to his back, Reiner sneaked a hand around to his jaw, cupping it and turning it to face him. "If it gets to be too much, pinch my thigh or tell me to stop."

Completely wordless from the sudden unannounced thrust back into him, Porco nodded, slack jawed and fucked out back to Reiner, hearing his deep laugh that sent chills down his spine.

Spreading his ass cheeks apart, Reiner pulled out slowly, groaning at how Porco tried to suck him back in, how greedy he was being. With no build up, Reiner started a quick pace, skin smacking on skin with the speed and force of his thrusts. Porco twisted and clenched onto the sheets of the bed, muffling his whines and moans as he pressed his face into the mattress.

Every thrust felt deeper and deeper, stretched him out even further and made all of this feel like he was walking on clouds of ecstasy. It wasn't until Reiner hit a certain spot deep inside him that had him shooting up with pleasure and confusion, wondering why that particular thrust felt so good.

"M'right there yea?" Came the smug response that sounded like an answer, already knowing he hit Galliard's prostate and knew if he continued he'd be coming on his cock.

"Fuck yea - again, gods that felt good." Mewling back at Braun, digging his own hands into his hair and taking each thrust that was being given.

Reiner didn't stop, aimed for that spot repeatedly until he felt his own orgasm approaching, hoping it were the same for Galliard. His fingers formed divots into his hips, gripping onto his supple flesh and admiring how good the younger looked right now. He was taking him so well and god he could get used to this if it were something Galliard were up for.

"You close?" Asking directly into his ear after leaning over him and pressing his chest to his back, taking a hold of his aching cock into his hands.

"Uh huh." Barely a response he could make out from how slurred Galliard's words were when responding, inflating his ego in being able to reduce him to this state.

Gently, Reiner pressed a kiss to his shoulder, moving his hand up and down on his cock in time with his thrusts, furiously working both of them to an orgasm. Reiner grunted at the same time Porco groaned, a sudden warmth coming in contact with his hand, instantly sending him over the edge and spilling himself inside Galliard.

Neither of them moved from their positions, sweaty and dazed from the combined heat and lust filling the room. Reiner eventually found the strength to pull out, releasing Galliard's softening cock and flopping back onto the bed. Porco let his knees buckle, falling into the bed as well, groaning into the sheets.

Eventually Reiner shuffled to the small bathroom attached to his room and returned with a rag, flipping Porco over easily and swiping it down over his lower body, and doing the same to himself.

"Give me a minute and I'll go."

Almost missing the mutter of words from where he stood at his dresser, pulling a fresh pair of briefs on and grabbing some for Galliard.

"Not gonna kick you out, days pretty much over anyway." Responding back with a small smile that was out of view from the other, not minding if Porco decided to stay or not.

"Alright, I'm taking a nap then." Catching the fresh pair of briefs from Reiner and tucking them into his arm as he turned onto the side in the bed, giving the blonde a little smirk that could mean anything or nothing at all.

It was Reiner's turn to roll his eyes, letting the man sleep in his bed for the time being, grabbing his discarded pants by the wall and fishing for the box of cigarette he stole from Zeke, slipping one between his lips. He flopped down onto the side where Porco wasn't, bringing the lighter to the end of the cigarette and quickly inhaling the nicotine as soon as he could.

Thinking he was asleep, Porco startled Reiner when he flipped over, holding out two fingers. Reiner scoffed and passed the cigarette to him and took it back once Porco took a puff. There wasn't much to be said between them, unexpectedly enjoying the stillness of the quiet and the other's presence, sharing a cigarette together in the post-coital bliss.

[hisunshiine]

—i kiss your waist and ease your mind [6/7]

Part 6 of 7 of the Seven Days Series ↣ series masterlist

🗓️pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️au/genre: non-idol au, brother’s friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut 🗓️rating: M 🗓️wc: 6,323 + text message 🗓️warnings: angst, mentions of Gwangju Uprising, casualties from the Uprising, hospitals, argument, hurt feelings, minor character death, grief explicit sexual content: unprotected sex, creampie, grief/comfort sex?   🗓️an 0.5: WELL, THE POST WAS ACCIDENTALLY DELETED AND ONLY SHOWS IN CERTAIN SITUATIONS, SO I HAD TO RE-UPLOAD. 🗓️an: well, well, well…back again for some pain, are you? I would apologize for how this ends, but it’s necessary for the set up of the final day of the week, and truly, I think it makes the final day that much more better if we have to hurt a little bit more, right? Thank you for reading, and again, I appreciate my beta readers for all of their help!   🗓️summary: “i kiss your waist and ease your mind.” The only thing that could make you feel better is the same thing that made you feel worse. You and Jungkook are both confused with your emotions, but two different stories help you both see a bit more clearly. The only problem is that when the two of you get around each other, clarity goes bye-bye. don’t let these soft lyrics fool you; make up sex doesn’t actually solve any issues if sex is the only communication that happens.  

Taglist: @sizzlingfestpeach @mochminnie @jungkooksmytype @kookslastbutton @taebangtanbabe @bbtsficrecs @jk97bam it’s not letting me tag you (if joining the taglist, please think about reblogging with tags/leaving feedback!)

Last night could not have been any worse for Jungkook—well, he’s sure it could have—but luckily the worst that could’ve been, had not come to be. Today, however, is proving itself to be a challenge in its own right. Jungkook knew he had to work early in the morning, but was alright with going out last night because he was with you. 

Last night honestly had been turning into a great night—the way you had silently laid your claim to him at the club, possessive of him in a healthy way—Jungkook thought things were progressing in the right direction. And clearly, you did, too. Hell, he knew he was all over you last night. Knew that he was taking a huge risk in advancing the relationship past friends with benefits when he threw all caution out the window to kiss you like that in front of your friends, but at the time, Jungkook didn’t care. 

And now? Well, that would be a different story, seeing as now that several people know that you’re the one he’s been fucking every night, they might all think something more should come from this situation. Jungkook doesn’t know what to tell them if they ask, and he’s been avoiding Jimin every chance he gets during his shift so far, because he doesn’t really know what to say. He walks to the nurses station to grab his oversized water bottle, drinking several large gulps before being interrupted. 

“Jeon, we have a case that’s just moved over to us, can you help?” Park Soo-hyun, the head nurse for the shift, asks him. As he lowers the semi-transparent canister, he takes in her cotton candy pink hair, which is mussed in a few places; the corners of her eyes are pinched with stress.

“Yeah, no problem.” Jungkook sets the bottle back on the shelf, and follows the shorter Nurse Park down the hallway to the right of the nurses station and watches as she pauses at the elevators to press the call button. Jungkook slows his walk and raises an eyebrow at his fellow nurse. 

“Sorry, we need the help on another unit,” she shrugs, elbow extending her arm to pass Jungkook a slim tablet with the patient's info pulled up. 

“Honestly, that’s perfect.” Escaping to a different floor means almost zero percent chance of Jungkook running into Jimin, so he strolls into the elevator with no regrets. 

Jungkook scrolls past the general information to see just exactly what he’s dealing with as the metal carriage rises. 

His heart breaks a little when he sees that this case is a hospice care one—a focus on the quality of life at the end of it. He follows Nurse Park, barely noticing as he puts one foot after the other, approaching the room. There are several acronyms listed in bold to the left of the door. This clues him into the fact that the goal has shifted from treatment care to comfort. 

Jungkook sees a sleeping, elderly woman in the hospital bed closest to the window, her grey hair pulled away from her face in a short ponytail. Next to her side is a similarly (he assumes) aged man, holding her wrinkled hand in his own. It is a sight that tugs at Jungkook’s heart; he doesn’t usually struggle with the elderly, just small children who end up in this unit, but with how he’s currently feeling about you, he thinks it's impacting him more than he’s used to. 

“Mr. Kim? This is Nurse Jeon. He’ll be with you and your wife for most of today,” Soo-Hyun says kindly as she pats Jungkook’s back in a motherly nature. “Please let him know if you need anything, okay?” She passes Jungkook a small phone, which he pockets, and leaves him in the sunlit room. He steps closer, pulling up the doctor’s chair to sit; a small, rolling, cushioned stool in hospital green. He glances at their names on the whiteboard. Patient: Jung Min-Ji, Spouse: Kim Tae-Woo.

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jungkook starts, voice gentle and quiet so as not to disturb the sleeping woman.

“Hello,” Mr. Kim replies, voice weathered with time and wisdom. “We’re okay, son, you don’t need to sit with this old man.”

Jungkook is no stranger to the phrases the older generation tend to say when in this position. The feelings of being a burden on the hospital staff, guilt for brief thoughts blaming their loved one for being in this position, grief that they could possibly lose their loved one—they’re all valid emotions, and a lot for a person to bear. Especially an elderly man who appears to be carrying this weight alone. Instead of responding to his statement, Jungkook changes the topic. “How did the two of you meet?”

The man’s eyes sparkle to life as he looks at Jungkook’s eager face. “Oh, we’ve known each other since we were kids. She was the most beautiful girl in the village, and I was just some dumb kid who followed her around like a puppy. She’s older than me, you see, and I was the annoying little brother of her best friend.” He smiles fondly at her sleeping form, and Jungkook feels his chest grow tight. “She used to hate my guts. My friends and I would terrorize her and her friends, pull their ponytails, leave frogs in their backpacks, all the terrible things thirteen-year-old boys would do to pretty girls they were afraid to talk to.”

“No wonder she hated you, Mr. Kim!” Jungkook laughs. “I’m guessing you finally stopped tormenting her if she ended up married to you?” Jungkook points out.

“Yes, yes.” The man chortles fondly as he reminisces. “I finally grew up, and realized that treating her badly was not the way to her heart. A little too late, though. She ended up married to some other punk in the neighborhood. He wisened up a little faster than I did, told her how he felt one winter, and they were married by the time the cherry blossoms bloomed.” He sighs, and Jungkook tilts his head, questioning. “Oh, I was distraught. I couldn’t do anything about it, though, I realized that I missed my chance, busy playing games. I ended up married to one of her friends, and well, we spent the next fifteen years circling each other.”

“Wow, that must’ve been hard to deal with.” Jungkook can’t imagine being in his shoes. Or well, he can, but he doesn’t want to imagine that future for himself. Doesn’t want to see a future where he stands in suit and tie to take wedding photos, and it’s not you next to him in them.

“Oh, I loved her enough, my ex-wife, but I think she always knew deep down that she wasn’t…she wasn’t Min-Ji.” Jungkook can see his hand tighten imperceptibly around his wife’s frail one. “We never had kids, and when I came home from work one day to find her waiting with her things packed...I think I always knew that day would come.”

“So, how did you end up winning over Min-Ji?” Jungkook is intrigued by the man’s story. He doesn’t know what he would do in this situation.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it that. She was thirty-two with a new-born daughter, and left a widow after the Gwangju Uprising. Her husband was one of the many lost that summer. I was freshly twenty-eight, newly single, with an empty house, and still in love with her. I stepped up as her friend, offering her and her daughter a place to live and slowly we became a family. I asked her to marry me a couple years later and she said yes.” Kim Tae-Woo’s eyes water, and even in the dimly lit room, Jungkook can see the love he has for the woman in front of him. 

“That’s an amazing story, Mr. Kim. I’m glad you found each other.”

“Oh, me too. She’s given me everything I never knew I wanted. Three children and the best forty-three years of my life. She’s my everything.” He turns back to Jungkook, a look on his face that he can’t read. “Do you have someone, Nurse Jeon? Someone you love more than your own life?”

The question throws Jungkook for a loop, because the whole time his patient’s spouse was telling their story, there was only one person who crossed his mind. You. He hesitates to answer, but Mr. Kim was honest with him, and Jungkook is sure that he can be vulnerable with this man, too. 

“Yeah, I think I do.”

—————

“Stop staring at your phone and moping, oh my god.” Yoongi rolls his eyes at your mood, whispering to Leah about how you’re the rain cloud following them around, ready to ruin the wedding tomorrow. 

You glance at the message one last time before locking your phone and stuffing it into your hoodie’s front pocket. 

You hate that you and Jungkook ended the night like you did, even more that he didn’t text you his usual morning text. The thumbs-up emoji haunted your dreams last night, and you barely slept, waking up throughout the night. The bags under your eyes reflect the nightmares, a fact your annoying little brother enjoyed pointing out when they picked you up at 10 AM.

-10 am flashback

“Shush Yoongi!” Leah berated him gently, “need I remind you how you looked after our almost break-up?”

“Hey! I thought we promised never to bring that up again!” Yoongi pouted the whole trip to the wedding venue for the final review of the plans. 

-end

You sit back in the chair, your head facing away from the floor-to-ceiling window of the wedding venue, wishing not for the first (or even second) time that things had gone down differently last night. Sorting through all of your feelings is a lot harder than you thought it would be. Especially with your brother’s looming nuptials while seated in a decorated wedding hall. 

“I’m not moping, jackass.” You pick at non-existent lint on the sleeve of your hoodie before tilting your head back and allowing the hood to fall off. “I just don’t know what to do with myself.”

“We’re almost done. Leah is just dropping off the last of the checks for the vendors, and we are running through the ‘Day-Of’ itinerary one last time with the planner. Then we can grab some lunch, and you can fill us in on the troubles running through that head of yours.”

“Sushi?” You make your eyes big and pout your bottom lip as you turn your head to look your brother in the face. He looks good; his hair is freshly done with an undercut cropped close to his head and the top layers falling in organized, chaotic layers. He has a healthy glow about him that screams ‘happy and in love’, that makes you feel wisps of green envy. His face breaks out into a smile, eyes disappearing in delight. 

“Of course, princess. Whatever you want, if it means you’ll be in a better mood.”

Hearing Yoongi call you ‘princess’ reminds you of Jungkook, and you turn away again, hiding your crestfallen look as Leah walks back into the room with the wedding planner. Yoongi leaves you to join his soon-to-be wife’s side, shaking hands with the wedding planner as they bid her goodbye and motion for you to meet them at the exit. 

Finally supplied with sustenance, you feel a little better as you chew and swallow the tempura-fried shrimp drizzled in spicy aioli sauce. Though that feeling dissipates a bit when Yoongi sets a deliberate gaze on you. 

“Spill it. I know you're moping about Jungkook, but what happened? Do I have to kill him?” he attempts to make you smile, but the joke falls flat with you today. 

“To be honest, it all happened really fast. One second we were good, really good. And then he just kind of shut down and called me a taxi and kicked me out at like 2 AM.”

“Wait, that dickhead kicked you out at 2 AM? I should fucking kill him! What if something had happened to you?” Yoongi’s ears are red and his eyes glint in anger. Leah reaches out a hand to soothe him as you speak quickly to do the same.

“Nothing happened to me. I’m a big girl, Yoongi. I’m pretty sure I said some hurtful things to him, and if the situation was reversed, I would’ve asked him to leave, too. If I had been a little more sober, I probably would’ve left on my own volition instead of getting into an argument.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Leah cuts in tentatively, “you do like Jungkook, right? Like not just as a friend?”

Your face says everything your mouth won’t as you shift in your seat. Leah nods knowingly, and Yoongi takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. You’ve already told Mom and Dad that you’re dating him or whatever, so what’s holding you back from taking that step with him if you like him so much?”

It takes everything in you to not cut your eyes at him. You see Leah cover her mouth; the mirth there doesn’t match the situation, but she can’t help but feel like her very smart and emotionally aware fiance is missing some important social factors. You don’t blame her for the smile, in fact, you welcome it, knowing full well that she gets it.

“What’s holding me back? Maybe that conversation with Mom earlier this week, where she nagged at me for being single and not giving her grandkids, and then when I told her I was seeing someone, she ridiculed Jungkook’s age? Or how about the fact that the stupid goth art teacher talked shit about how young Jungkook was?” You shake your head, defeated. “Everyone judges the relationship between me and Jungkook, before it’s even a relationship. So what happens when it is real?”

“What changed?” Leah’s brows are furrowed, and you can see her mind sorting through the information you’ve given, or lack thereof. “Something must have happened to make what you had going no longer work for either of you, right?”

You decide to trust them both and tell the truth of what happened.

“So after we left the club, we went back to his place since it was late. Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok are now fully aware that there’s something between me and Jungkook because he wasn’t exactly subtle. To be fair, I didn’t stop him either, so I guess if I’m being honest, we weren’t exactly subtle. We get back to his place, and it’s business as usual.” Yoongi grimaces as he reaches for his whiskey, downing the entire thing as you skim most of the sex, though a memory surfaces as you let the night replay in your mind. 

“Oh god!” You slap your hands to your face, covering your mouth. “I just remembered…I kind of let slip that I loved him while having sex,” you mumble into your hands, head dropping down in embarrassment. “And then right afterwards he’s receiving a ‘you up?’ text from SoHee—with a fucking topless picture!—and I just lost it. There was an argument, which I honestly can barely remember what was said. We were both so mad, you know?”

“Wow, no wonder you were mad. I’m guessing he didn’t say anything about your confession,” Leah questions, validating your feelings in a way that warms your heart. You definitely think you and your new sister-in-law (as of tomorrow) will get along great.

“No, he didn’t. And it’s not even that he has to say it back or anything, I didn’t say it for that reason, but the fact that we just had—”

“Please don’t say it again!” Yoongi interrupts.

“I wasn’t! Anyways, the fact that we just had such an intimate moment happen, and here comes SoHee texting Jungkook her perky tits asking if he’s awake? I know a booty call text when I see one.” 

“Wait, but you just said SoHee texted it to Jungkook, right?” Yoongi sits back, a quizzical look on his face. “So, he got a text from SoHee and you got jealous. But I’m gonna be that person right now and point out to you that technically, you and Jungkook aren’t together.”

“Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Anyways, we were in the bathroom,” you think back through the specifics. “His phone went off, and he set it down to dry my hair, and then it went off again. The message lit up his phone, so I saw the text from SoHee.”

“Sis, you know I love you, but I think you’re jumping to conclusions. It sounds like Jungkook was just the recipient of the messages, not necessarily the instigator. Guys can receive unsolicited tit pics just as much as women get dick pics. People just think all men are horny 24/7, but we also can feel uncomfortable in these situations. If we’re at work or start dating someone new, and an old flame sends us a ‘you up’ text or sends nudes? Not to mention, sometimes we just aren’t attracted to the people sending us stuff. It causes issues no one asked for.” 

Yoongi’s eyes show no malice as he speaks a truth you’re upset with yourself for not realizing in that drunken stupor, or even in the light of today. “Jungkook’s hot, you know? He could’ve just been the recipient of unsolicited nudes. He might actually get quite a few that he ignores, because that man is high-key in love with you.” 

“Honestly, I’ve seen you and Jungkook together, and I agree. Who cares what other people think, especially the ones who don’t know either of you well enough and shouldn’t matter enough to sway your happiness with each other.” Leah looks at Yoongi, and he takes her hand gently. “This wedding tomorrow will not be my first one, but it’s the one that matters the most to me. Your brother loves me on a level that I never knew was possible, thanks to my ex, and though our age gap isn’t as big as yours with Jungkook, I’m still older than him. Both of these are things your mom took issue with, but you know your brother.” She looks over to him with a fondness you understand. It’s how you look at Jungkook. “The only thing that matters is what you and Jungkook want. I know it’s not easy, but it’s infinitely worth it.”

By the time Jungkook finishes a sponge-bath and documents the care Min-Ji received during this time, he realizes it’s past the typical lunch time and that the husband has yet to eat. The three children he mentioned live on the other side of the country, but are traveling now to be with their parents. He had hoped they would arrive earlier with the promised food Mr. Kim is waiting for, but Jungkook insists he get something to hold the man over for the time being. He reminds him of which buttons to press to contact the phone in Jungkook’s pocket, then heads to the canteen.

The employees share the cafeteria area with the visiting families of patients, and it is bustling quite a bit as Jungkook exits the elevators straight into the lobby of the cafe. To the left, the room extends into a seating area once past the cashier lines, and Jungkook sees the moment SoHee spots him through the crowd. 

He’s tired of hiding from people—tired of hiding from his feelings, really—so he decides not to run away this time. If SoHee decides to talk about the messages she sent last night, he will address it and let her down easily. They’re still friends, in Jungkook’s mind, so he smiles at her as she approaches him, soft pink scrubs swishing lightly from her quick steps.

“I am so excited about the wedding tomorrow!”

Jungkook can tell; her smile is glowing. Once upon a time, he might’ve been enthralled by it, it’s still a beautiful smile, and it sucks to know that he might be the reason it fades in a few moments.

“Yeah, me too. I actually wanted to talk to you about it.”

“Yes, that’s why I came over here, in fact, so we could finish coordinating and—”

“SoHee, wait.” Jungkook knows he’s being rude, cutting her off, but the longer she stands there, grinning up at him like that, the more his chest feels tight. “I can’t be your date for the wedding.”

As he predicted, the rosy apples of SoHee’s cheeks lower along with her smile as she processes his words.

“I don’t think I understand?” She's polite as she speaks, head quirked to the side as if showcasing her confusion, but Jungkook is no fool to the glint of a woman’s eye as she braces for battle. 

“I know that it took me a lot longer than I promised to get back to you about this, but I’ve only just figured things out myself, and I just don’t want to string you along.”

“What have you been doing then, if not stringing me along?” SoHee crosses her arms across her chest, stance shifting to one of defensiveness. “I’m not trying to be a bitch, Jungkook, but from my point of view, it kind of seems like you’ve been doing exactly what you claim you don’t want to do.”

Jungkook sighs, restraining himself from rolling his eyes at her words and tone. He can’t help but feel that SoHee is being a bit dramatic—it’s not like he was the one who started all this wedding date talk, and he never even agreed to be her date! He did put off turning her down, but she’s the one who texted him to say he didn’t need to feel obligated to take her. And then she sends nudes and a booty-call text message at the worst possible moment last night and wants to get mad at him?

“Look, SoHee, I know that you probably feel like I’m the bad guy in this, but—”

“You’re an asshole, Jungkook.” SoHee’s voice carries a little too well, and other nurses standing nearby tune into the conversation. He really hates public confrontation like this, especially when he didn’t do anything wrong, and yet, here he is dealing with this bullshit.

Jungkook doesn’t mean the words he says in the way that they come out, but he feels cornered. “What do you want me to say, SoHee? ‘I’m sorry that I like somebody else’? Or possibly, I’m sorry that you sending me nudes I never asked for at 2 AM fucked up my relationship?” He probably could’ve said it with a little less attitude, probably should’ve held back from the second example, especially when he sees the way SoHee’s eyes begin to fill with tears as she looks at all of the gawking bystanders. One of the other nurses walks over and places an arm around SoHee’s shoulder, glaring daggers at Jungkook as if willing him to keel over on the glossy linoleum. 

“You really are an asshole, Jeon. Why would you say that to someone, in front of a crowd? You have no tact.” 

Jungkook is about to fire back at the other woman, but a hand on his shoulder reigns him back in despite his blood continuing to boil.

“Janice, why don’t you escort SoHee to the employee lounge for a bit? I’ll have a chat with Jungkook here.”

Frozen eyes sending a final chilling glare, the women disappear as Jungkook finally moves through the cafe line to the cashier, Jin following quietly. He continues to shadow Jungkook as he makes his way back to the palliative care and hospice unit to deliver the food. As he rounds the doorway, he sees that the patient’s adult children have arrived, a few grandchildren as well. 

To his surprise, Min-Ji is awake, but this only makes him worry about what’s to come. He sets the food to the side, greeting the members of Min-Ji’s family as he does a quick check of Min-Ji’s breathing. The pattern appears abnormal—though normal for someone approaching the end of life. He’s glad her family made it in time to see her; he knows that before the day is out, possibly even before his shift ends, she’ll quietly cross the veil.

Jungkook slips back out of the room to give the family some privacy, and to meet with Jin, who he knows is waiting for him. The two men walk to a nearby empty nurses’ desk, and Jungkook waits expectantly for Jin to speak. 

“Well, that went swimmingly.”

“All thanks to you, my friend,” Jungkook responds snidely, “not only is SoHee mad at me, I’m also not talking to You-Know-Who right now because of a pretty serious fight we had last night.”

“Calm down, she’s not Voldemort,” Seokjin snorts out. “But you two fought about something serious?”

“Yeah…She was at my place last night and saw a series of messages from SoHee that included a nude. She kind of went spastic on me, accusing me of requesting the nudes from SoHee after having sex with her because I’m ‘too young’ to behave any differently. I honestly was so angry, I called her a taxi and sent her home.” 

Seokjin blinks at Jungkook dumbfoundedly before speaking. “Maybe if you’d already told our dear friend you’re banging his sister, and then told her that you want to date her, none of this would have even been able to happen.”

“This advice would’ve been better than encouraging SoHee’s imagination,” Jungkook grumbles out, though his voice takes a softer tone when he says your name as he continues, “if she had wanted to date her brother’s youngest friend, I think she would’ve said something by now.”  The condescension towards the age gap is laced through every word. Seokjin ponders his words before speaking his point of view.

“You know, I think that maybe the two of you put too much weight on this age gap. Even now, you’re taking on this submissive role, waiting for her to tell you or make the first move. But let me tell you a little something about women. No matter their age, they want someone who isn’t afraid to want them back. And you, my friend, are shaking in your scrubs.”  

“I’m not scared,” Jungkook instantly defends, but even he can hear the lie whistle through his teeth.

“Then why are you waiting for her to make all the decisions? Why haven’t you had an adult conversation, sat her down, and told her what you wanted for a change?”

“Because I—” Jungkook pauses, unsure of how to answer. In all realness, he is scared. He enjoys what the two of you have going on, and he worries that if he speaks up for what he wants, if he asks you to change the friends-with-benefits status to something real…being incinerated by the sun after being lit on fire by jet engine fuel would hurt less than the hypothetical rejection he fears. 

Seokjin just gives him a knowing look, his eyes soft with empathy for his younger friend's dilemma. “Just talk to her. Show her you want her, and not just in a friends-with-benefits way.” He once again gives Jungkook that knowing look. “Tomorrow is the perfect opportunity to clear the air. Everyone loves a good wedding.”

“Except SoHee is also going to be there.”

Seokjin curses lowly under his breath and is about to say more when Jungkook’s phone begins to emit a shrill tone for attention. The two men silently make their way back to Min-Ji’s room, knowing that if the phone is ringing, it’s not for any good reason.

It’s been a long day full of revelations. The long talk with your brother and his soon-to-be wife has left you feeling drained and empty. Sitting on your couch, you open up the app to order food from your favorite takeout place barely a block away. Carelessly, you reorder the last meal you placed before slumping backwards into the plush cushions. 

Now that you’ve ordered, you really wish you had chosen delivery, like the lazy ass you want to be, but it’s not that far from your place. You close your eyes for what feels like a moment, but an alert jerks you out of the light slumber you’d slipped into. Your food is ready to be picked up. Sighing, you rock back then forward to lift yourself from the sunken spot on your comfortable couch and shrug on Jungkook’s hoodie for the trek. 

The weather teases a light rainfall, the petrichor scent enveloping you as you quicken your steps through the glass door of the establishment. Approaching the counter, the cashier recognizes you and pulls your order—two plastic bags with a brown paper bag inside each full of steaming hot food.

Checking the receipt stapled to the first bag, you see that you’ve accidentally ordered twice as much food; your last placed order was a meal for two, and the extra food? Jungkook’s favorite dishes from here. With resignation, you grab both bags, attempting to balance them on each forearm and use your foot to push open the door, but the door swings open as a man with an umbrella steps through. 

Jungkook says your name as if it's a curse and a prayer, sidestepping back onto the sidewalk to hold the door for you to exit. You thank him, fully intending to keep walking past him, but he follows you instinctively. 

“Let me help,” he says, his hand reaching out to grab one of the bags, and like muscle memory, you allow it, both of you walking in tandem until you reach your place. Unlocking the front door, he follows you in if only to set down the bag, but you stop him with a hand to his wrist before he can leave. 

“I, uh, accidentally ordered your favorites when I rushed my last reorder. You can have it, if you want. I can’t eat all of this.”

Jungkook just shrugs, and you finally notice how he looks. It’s not good—well, he always looks good; he can pull off anything. It’s more so that he doesn’t look well; his face is pale, eyes listless and devoid of any joy, parts of his face a bright red from being picked at. It’s one of his habits you’re well aware of, like when he bites his nails when nervous. Reaching into the bag, you lift out the container and pass it to him along with napkins and utensils. Taking the food from you, he steps into your living room, plopping down onto your couch as if muscle memory has taken over, he takes off the lid and begins the motions of eating the meal.

Your own thoughts are racing, unsure of what to do or say, so you just say nothing, instead pouring two glasses of water and delivering them to the coffee table before going back for your food. You end up sitting on the smaller couch, the corner closest to where he sits on the larger couch. The room fills with the sounds of you eating, an awkwardness that never used to be there lingering in the air. Your eyes flit from your food to Jungkook’s slow movements, so after you swallow your most recent bite, you take a sip of water before speaking.

“Is everything okay, Jungkook?” The urge to call him ‘baby’—to cuddle him to you and comfort him—is strong, but you resist.

His hand moves the food around a bit, and you watch him as he gathers himself to reply. It feels like hours, but he finally looks at you. “Yeah, I just had a really hard case today. It was a hospice patient, and I spent most of the day with her husband. Well, second husband—but the love of her life, I’m sure.” 

“Oh,” you don’t know what to say; you’re not really sure what made the case so hard, so you wait for Jungkook to elaborate.

“They, uh, knew each other for a long time, since they were kids, you know? But he was the younger brother of her best friend, and she married someone else before he worked up the courage to pursue her. He ended up married to one of her friends instead, but she left him. He said his first wife knew that no one could compete with the girl he actually loved. So when the first husband died in the Gwangju Uprising, leaving her a single mom with a small baby, he stepped in to provide them with a place to live and just help out, but they ended up together eventually and they have a big family.” Jungkook’s eyes look back at his food, a bit teary. “I met their kids and grandkids. They arrived right before she—” he clears his throat, but a small tear sneaks down his cheek.

You reach out for him, pulling the food from his hands and placing it on the table. You scoot closer to him, taking his hands into yours as he looks down at where the two of you connect. He sniffles, trying to stabilize his voice before he continues with his story.

“They arrived right before she passed. She’d been asleep the whole time I was there with her husband, but once everyone arrived, she woke up and was talking to them all, told them she loved them one last time, and then she just…slipped away. I don’t think I can ever forget the sound her husband made as he cried.”

“Oh, Jungkook…” unable to bear it, you join him on the same couch, holding him close to you as he cries. Your own eyes are wet; something about this couple’s story resonates with you after everything that you’ve experienced today.

“I can’t imagine going through that,” Jungkook says with a wobbly voice. “Losing the person that you love the most in the world? I mean, he almost avoided having to go through this, she married someone else! And the chance comes around for him to be with her and he takes it, but the way he cried when he lost her…I’m not sure it’s worth it in the end.” 

His words cut like a knife to your heart. You want to remind him of the good that he told in the story, how the couple had a large family, how the wife was surrounded by the evidence of their love when she died. How the man taking that second chance meant a single mom and her baby had a better life—that anguish he felt when he lost her was because they shared a love like no other. To you, it’s always worth it. 

Instead of saying what you want to say, you ask him what he needs. And those beautiful teary eyes look up at you and he whispers one word; “You,” and you’re unable to say no to him. Not when his lips meet yours with a desperation that you can’t begin to decipher, not when his hands pull you closer, and he clings to you like a lifeline, and definitely not when he sighs out your name against your lips, as if the simple utterance fills him with solace and relief of all that ails him.

His strong hands relieve you of your clothing as his lips remain fervently attached to yours. You relish in the feel of him as your naked form meets his own body, skin to skin, while he lays you back onto the couch. His kiss leaves you dazed; you have no idea how long it took for you both to end up naked, and by the time the question is flying through your mind, Jungkook is already nestled between your thighs, his cock hard and throbbing pressed against your lower stomach and your ankles crossed at his lower back.

When he pulls away slightly—reaching to line himself up with your slick opening—you bite his bottom lip where it was resting against your own, and the sensation causes him to surge his hips forward, fucking himself deep inside you. The intrusion is orgasmic, stretching you to a fullness you only experience when he doesn’t take time to prep you. Jungkook is needy, fraught with a raw emotion he can’t yet put words to, but his body can.

With each stroke, he finds comfort, the grip of your walls building the friction to a pleasurable high that he wants to drown in. Is there anything better to ease his mind than to be buried inside of you? He knows you're close, can feel the way you quicken—hurtling towards climax as you dig your nails into his back and cry out his name. Your body wrapped around him brings him a level of peacefulness that allows his mind to empty and his heavy cock to release thick spurts of cum until you're full and leaking around his softening member. 

You lay underneath him, holding him close as his chest rises and falls, and he peppers kisses along your shoulder. His movements are slow and you can feel the effects of the day taking over and pulling him into sleep. He slides his body so that the two of you are back to front, him curling around you as the big spoon. He grasps the blanket you keep across the top of the couch and attempts to cover you both, but you take over for him. 

He drops his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest as he kisses the back of your head once more. 

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he mutters before he’s softly snoring, and you lay there in his embrace, contemplating what his apology could be for. 

Was he apologizing for sending you home last night? For that thumbs up he sent that ruined your day? Because he feels bad that he only made you cum once after using your body to make himself feel better?  It’s only when you’re about to drift off that you remember his words about his patient, and your mind wonders if his apology is telling you sorry because he can’t give you what you want the most. Himself.

stay tuned for “i’ll be loving you right, seven days a week” coming 9-?-2023!

↣all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

As Cold as Death

Author's note: Nanael in Soul Mate Sad AU. @sleepyfan-blog and I talked about this, and they are find with it.

Summary: Nanael arrives to the scene in this AU.

Warnings: Mentions of torture. A Chaos Warband has their hands on A Loyalist. LMK if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis, @undeaddream

Nanael had been on Ancient Terra for a few weeks, trying to escape the Black Legion Chaos Warband (who would be considered Feral and Non-Treaty compliant, not that he knows that, yet).

When he feels a soul deep agony that has him falling to the ground and screaming, writhing in agony, as his time counter flickers and twists strangely.

The noise he makes attract the attention of the war band- several members and most of them are annoyed. One of the Dark Apostles of the group..

After he stops screaming writhing and is just sweating and reeling from the strange agony he's in poke at him and mutter in a strange language that has his head hurt.

'What was that?' Nanael wonders as he's roughly dragged by two of the larger members of the Chaos war band back into his damned cage that he'd just managed to escape as they toss him in.

"Someone was messing with the Little Lamenters Soul Bond," The Dark Apostle Elona Hidemauler informs the War Lord of the band, which Nanael just manages to hear, straining his ears as he keeps his eyes closed.

"Interesting," The War Lord Maraddeel Trarth says, his voice sounding more amused, yet bored than anything.

"We need to wait a bit- too much, fun with the little birdy, could have his soul flying back to his Father too soon," The Dark Apothecary Toradreel says.

"Aww... but he screams so pretty when his feathers are plucked," Verzos says with a wicked smile on his chaos mutated face. "He escaped his cage again, he needs to be punished."

"The Start of the Severing of his Soul Bond will have him too weak to move much for days, if we are lucky, weeks," Skaevadror points out, the Chaos Psyker, "It was a Nurglite that was starting to Sever the bond, but did so in a way that none of the backlash would end up on the one they were Severing with... Likely a Deal."

'I don't know my soul mate,' Nanael thinks, the sting of pain, of rejection has him closing his eyes and keeps his tears inside. Showing weakness is a bad idea, especially to this lot. 'and they would make a Deal with Chaos, for... something that the cost is their Soul Bond.'

Which is both deeply concerning and hurts. He needs to escape this Warband, to find Loyalists and warn them that there is a Chaos Warband that needs to be handled.

He shifts a little, he's so hungry, so thirsty. The bastards haven't given him anything to eat or drink, not like he'd trust them to give him something safe to eat.

Fuck, he's not sure if it's safe for him to drink of their blood- not with how heavily Chaos mutated and warped they are. One of the bastards, Urvox, had caught him trying to escape and had broken one of his wings, which was still badly hurt and hung limply at his side.

He will Endure, he will escape them. Hopefully he'll get his revenge on these assholes, after he regains his strength. One of the other Black Legionaries comes over to his cage, and he opens one of his eyes and glares at them silently.

Urvox, one of the younger Black Legionaries sneers down at the loyalist and uses a large metal bat to bang on it, "Loyalist scum! What are you plotting?"

"To escape- your deaths if I can manage it," Nanael snarls back, and his rewarded with a spiked mace to the legs as he snarls and swears at them.

Trying not to cry out in pain, while another one of the Warband Horandast crouches next to his cage, a smirk on his face, "If you gave in, it'd be easier on you, Scout."

"Never!" Nanael hisses out, "I won't fall to Chaos!"

"Hah, they all say that," Maraddeel says coming over, an arrogant stride to his gait. "And, yet- well. Fall, you Imperials do. Or die."

"I'd rathe die!" Nanael says honestly. "So kill me, and be done with it!"

"Nah," Maraddeel, "not yet, you have use, feathered bastard."

"As what?" Nanael snaps, trying to get him to talk.

"Oh, for a little of this, a little of that," The Chaos Marine says with a smirk.

Some of the Chaos Word Bearers would be ever so delighted to get their hands on a Winged Son of Sanguinius- the properties of their blood, and what they represent to their Chapters, both first found and the successor chapters, made them Potent Sacrifices to the dark gods.

Nanael needs to find a way to escape these Chaos bastards clutches- he has to. If he can manage to grab his armor and weapons on his way out, that would be ideal, but if he can only grab his own self, then that would be something. The loss of his armor and weapons would sting, and bring him shame for the losses of such valuable things.

Nanael waits, and bides his time, pretending, well showing more of just how wounded he was. How it affected him, also the fact that his soul mate had made a Deal that had affected their bond to him.

Black Legionaries could be very arrogant, and one night- he took his chance, while all of the bastards were drunk on stolen Mjod to escape his cage, grab his armor. Unable to get at his weapon, or any weapon as he runs as silently, and as swiftly as he could manage.

He checks his armor for traps, disables and disarms them. Fuck. He's so hungry. So tired. So thirsty. He puts on his armor and grunts at the weight of it. But as he puts on his helmet and continues to run, his hearts leap and he ruthlessly squashes down his feelings of hope and positive emotions.

A badly battered Nanael finds some civilization- there are structures- and a lot of baseline humans- although he sees some Astartes of various chapters in and nearby the base.

Woozily he moves from shadow to shadow, as best as he can in brightly colored armor. He hears the 'bong, bong, bong' of a church bell, and his steps go towards it.

He stares up in awe at a beautiful mosaic of his Lord Father, The Primarch Sanguinis rendered in beautiful metal and colored glass. He reverently, gently touches the stained glass and sways.

He leans against the wall of the church and curls up a mess of tangled, broken, blood limbs and feathers at the feet of his Primarchs painted window.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Day Two

Author’s Note: This is the third fic in Hagiel’s Terrible, Awful Mission. First. Previous. Next

Playlist: Spotify Youtube

Tagged: @undeaddream , @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: construction accidents, mass injuries, please ask me to tag something if it bothers you

Summary: During the second day of reconstruction, Hagiel tries to get the planetary governor to get the needed supplies to repair the city before the Ultramarines arrive, tries to raise morale of one of the reconstruction crews, and deals with a crane collapse. 

After sleeping a full four hours for the first time in weeks, Hagiel woke to the sounds of several of the dataslates he’d been reading through in order to get a rough estimates on how much materials and human-power was on planet in order to try and get the primary hive city ready for an Ultramarine Inspection… The numbers he had for the construction materials were not good, and the reports about the morale of the populace were not much better. 

Hagiel allows himself ten seconds to bury his face in his hands and groan about the fact that he was not trained in the reconstruction of a city of this size, and that the time pressure on all of them to ensure that agents of the Imperial Regent didn’t find them to be wanting were… Intense. Hagiel desperately wanted to show that his Chapter weren’t the cursed, half-heretical fuck-ups that they’d gained the reputation of being. If… If he was able to somehow make a good impression on them, perhaps… Perhaps some of the injunctions against his chapter would be lifted in time by the current Imperial Regent…

Hagiel mentally shook himself, and refocused. The Lamenter was keenly aware that he didn’t have the correct training for this sort of social engineering and reconstruction, but that wasn’t true of some of the surviving mortals in this world. He just needed to light a (hopefully just metaphorical) fire under them in order to get them to be moving. His first stop this morning was to speak with Governor Shyrc, and Hagiel had sent off an urgent request for a meeting with the planetary ruler before he had breakfast, murmured his morning prayers, tended to his weapons and armor while ignoring the creeping hunger for blood. 

With the serfs dead, there was no reliable and safe way for Hagiel to acquire blood to drink. Most mortals took a very dim view of such things…  Besides, he had denied the red thirst for weeks now. He was hopeful that he could continue to do so until he could reunite with more of his chapter and the serfs who’d been specifically altered to have more blood than their bodies needed in order to offer relief from the red thirst when a marine truly and deeply needed it. 

His vox chimed, and he had a written message from Lady Sablescar,informing him of when the Governor had time to speak with him in the morning. Hagiel cursed silently as he finished getting into his armor and began to sprint across town, as the meeting was within a half an hour of the current time. He accepted the time slot, and was just barely able to walk into the Governor’s office on time, slowing down once he’d reached the governor’s manse so as to not cause alarm.

“Lord Hagiel, I am glad to see you again. It was unfortunate you had to depart from the gathering last night rather abruptly, but I am grateful that you had decided to grace us with your presence then. What is it that you wished to speak to me about?” Shyrc asked, looking the astartes over assessingly.

Hagiel suppressed a slight wince, hoping that the mortal wasn’t feeling snubbed - he hadn’t meant to insult the other when he’d left… He just needed to get out of that stuffy party before he accidentally fucked up and made the job of trying to put this hive city into some sort of functioning order much harder. “Something had come up, but I am glad to have gone. I have been going over the reported supplies and materials that have been allotted to fixing the hive city, versus the estimates I have been given on what all will be needed in order to get the city into at least a semblance of functioning before the Imperial Regent’s agents arrive to inspect your fair city. In order to get the necessary repairs completed in time, this is what I have calculated we will need extra in terms of supplies, food, and potable water.” He handed over the dataslate that he had crunched the numbers on to the Governor for their perusal.

Shyrc looked over the numbers, a low hum leaving them as they read through the lists for several agonizing minutes before saying “I will do what I can in order to get the extra supplies to come… But given that this system is rather isolated from our neighbors due to frequent warp storms, I am unsure as to whether or not we’ll be able to get most of these supplies before the Ultramarines arrive. I will, of course, do what I can in order to ensure that more supplies are scrounged up for the good of my people…”

The Lamenter silently tried not to fume at the other’s response. He seemed surprisingly unconcerned at potentially being inspected when his capital city was a fucking mess and a half, if they didn’t work diligently and swiftly in order to get it unfucked enough to pass inspection. Hagiel resisted the temptation to bare his fangs at the Governor and Loom at the mortal, demanding that they take this situation with the due concern and worry it was due… But the smug bastard wielded a tremendous amount of political power locally, and making them an enemy would knee-cap him severely. “Very well. Do you know when you might be updated on when additional supplies will be arriving?”

“Oh, I cannot say for certain, but I do promise to keep you up to date when I find these things out, Lord Astartes. Is there anything else that you wanted to talk to me about?” Shyrc asked dismissively, briefly looking over at him before returning to their own stacks of dataslates. 

“That is all for now. Thank you for your time. Unless there is anything you’d like to tell me, I am going to be returning to the south hospital to continue to aid in the repairs.” Hagiel informed the governor, doing his best to suppress the frustration bubbling in his chest. Impatience would do him no good in this situation. 

“No, no.  You may go.” Shyrc responded, waving him off with an insultingly dismissive hand.

Hagiel left, just barely able to suppress the frustrated growl and flash-snap of his fangs that he wanted to do on the appallingly rude baseline human, stomping his way over to the hospital, scowling under his helmet. 

~

A small frown threatens to tug the corners of Hagiel's mouth down. He'd removed his helmet, as he found that working with his helmet off made the mortals slightly less skittish of him as he worked alongside of them to repair the hospital... Unlike yesterday, the repair crews were moving noticeably slower than before. There was also the fact that several members of the repair crews had shown up late - and more than just a couple of minutes. Several had been over an hour late, and two had yet to show up to the morning shift, and their relief had yet to arrive as well. He had also noticed that their tempers were shorter as well, and they snapped at each other over minor mistakes that were quickly corrected much faster than they had yesterday.

Along with the fact that the midmeal rations for the repair crew had been a half-portion as the Governor had put into place strict control over the remaining food supplies and was allowing only the absolute bare minimum needed to keep the populace going which was enforced by the Arbites - who were liberally using their stun batons and boots whenever anyone so much as hinted at being unhappy or trying for a second meager portion of food... Hagiel silently sighed, well aware that the repair crews were suffering from low morale. But what could be done in order to raise their spirits? He had limited experience in rousing spirits, as he was not a Sanguinary Priest. 

He walks over to where a dozen or so mortal repair workers had gathered, grumbling to each other and not doing much at all - and they should be working to repair the city that he lived in. His yellow armor caught their attention immediately, and Hagiel could tell that those who were at least at the places they were supposed to be and pretending a bit better that they were in fact working on what they were assigned to do. He clapped his hands together, the sound of his gauntlets ringing through the partially reconstructed hospital with a bright and clear ring. "I am aware that the strict food rationing has brought spirits low and while I do understand your frustration, we must continue to work diligently in repairing your home."

"This is groxshit! Why do we have to work night and day in order to repair the city so damn fast? There's no reason to work so hard, especially if Governor Shyrc is going to give us a fistful of corpse starch to eat while they grow fat on fresh food and laze about in their manor all day long! And what would you know of hunger, Lord Angel?" One of the mortals ground out, throwing their hands up into the air and giving him a nasty glare.

"I know a great deal about hunger, as a matter of fact. During the weeks of fighting, I and my brothers - all of whom died to save you all, by the way - ate at best half our standard amount of rations, in order to stretch what we had, as our own supplies were getting lower and baseline rations do little to truly sustain us." Hagiel revealed, careful not to glare at the upset human, keenly aware that they were all just miserable and desperate. He has not tasted blood in well over a month, and the red thirst is clawing at the back of his mind. All of these mortals were so-

No. No! He wasn't going to give into base instinct and foolishness. 

Hagiel continued his impromptu speech, mentally rallying himself "I did speak with the Governor about getting additional supplies to the city quickly, and they have promised to work on it, but the supply ships aren't going to be able to land if the spaceport hasn't been repaired enough to hold the weight of the vessels. As for the reasoning behind working night and day to repair the city as fast as possible... I suppose you all should be made aware of this now, rather than later. Ultramarines are, after all, not subtle."

"... Why are we being visited by Ultramarines after being attacked by waves of different xenos? What do they want?" Another mortal asked, a slight quaver in their voice.

"I was told that they are coming to inspect your city, and to acquire the Imperial Tithes owed by this and every other settled planet in this system, on the orders of the Imperial Regent himself.... You are aware that the Current Imperial Regent is also the Master of Ultramar, the last living loyal primarch and holy son of the God Emperor, Roboute Guilliman? I am aware of the fact that this system is frequently plagued by warp storms and is often cut off from much of the imperium in terms of news and the like, and the ascendancy of the last living loyal primarch is a relatively recent event." Hagiel hummed, biting back a small grin as the frowns and grumblings of irritation turned to awed silence and subtle gasps and murmurs of prayer.

"The... The Imperial Regent is coming here? When?! Our city is a half-destroyed disaster! Oh by Him on Terra..." Several mortals whispered to each other, their eyes wide and panicked.

"The exact movements of the Imperial Regent are a high priority secret. I do not know if Lord Guilliman himself is coming here, but I do know for a fact that one of his most trusted Company Captains and a handful of his Brothers will be arriving in-" He made a show of checking his fox "Five days, six hours and twenty-three minutes, Warp permitting. Do you now understand why being diligent, careful and swift in repairing this city is important? And why the Governor has ordered you all to work night and day, to ensure that all of us have a chance at presenting the city in the best light possible? It is unfortunate that the relief ships will not be able to come here before the Ultramarines do... But none of us can afford to let that slow us down."

There was another brief moment of silence before muttered prayers ran through the crowd of mortals. The dominant emotions within the mortals now seemed to be equal parts determination and anxiety and they all began to return to their duties with renewed if slightly frenetic vigor.

Good! Hagiel was glad that he had succeeded in successfully raising morale. Hopefully these mortals would spread this information to the other repair crews - both around the city and the different shift hours, to further encourage others to work properly and not slack off or work slower than was necessary.

~

Several hours passed in relative peace, with Hagiel aiding the mortals using his strength and increased stamina to push, pull or hold certain pieces of equipment in place as the mortals swiftly worked to get everything back into it's proper place. Hagiel had called for a water break - as the day so far had been unseasonably warm, and he was well aware of the fact that dehydration and heat exhaustion could easily kill, as surely as a bolter round or knife wound. He was mid-sip of water, wishing it was blood as that would be far more satisfying when he heard the light and swift movements of a mortal running at top speed towards the group.

"LORD ANGEL! LORD ANGEL WE NEED YOUR HELP!" Shouted a mortal who'd come sprinting from the direction of the spaceport. They doubled over, gasping and panting for air as Hagiel set down the space-concrete bucket he had been pouring out for the mortals to properly shape and walked over to where they were.

"What's going on?" Hagiel asks, squashing the desire to reach out and pull the mortal into an upright position in order to speak to him. The mortals were very touch-shy on the occasion he'd thoughtlessly reached out to correct their positions or catch them when they accidentally stumbled and may have injured themself in an accident he had prevented. 

"One of the large construction cranes just collapsed on the western side of the spaceport, sir! It's trapped over two-dozen people across six different levels of the spaceport sir. Some of them have been physically trapped by the crane itself. No one's died yet, but multiple people are injured. We need your help in shifting the crane so that we can get to the trapped and injured people." The mortal explained as they caught their breath, eyes wide and body trembling a little from the adrenaline surging through their body.

"Take me there. I'll do what I can." Depending on the size of the crane, it was entirely possible that it would be too heavy for Hagiel alone to move, but he would do what he could in order to rescue the mortals - and his ship did have some exo-equipment that would augment is strength and reach if needed, though maneuvering them would be tricky within atmospheric conditions. 

~

It did not take long for Hagiel to arrive at the spaceport. He could see the on-site mortal construction workers who weren't trapped doing their best to clear the area where the large construction crane had tipped over onto it's side, it's base half dangling in the air as both the vertical column and the working arm of the crane had smashed into several floors of the space port. He could see several mortals pinned between the smaller metal poles. Some of them were struggling weakly, pushing at the metal in a vain attempt to get it to move.

The sweet and coppery tang of blood filled the air, and Hagiel clenched his fists tightly at his side as the desperate, ravening hunger that he'd long struggled with as a Son of Sanguinius once again roared to the front of his mind. The scent of blood was thick in the air to the half-starved Astartes, and it was all he could do not to groan in hungry want and lunge after the nearest bleeding mortal, to drink from them until he was sated. He savagely bit the inside of one of his cheeks until it bled. It wasn't nearly enough as the wound immediately sealed up, but the brief pain and salty tang of blood on his tongue was enough of a shock to get him to refocus on the task at hand.

Which was to help the mortals, not eat them like a savage barbarian. "Do you know why the crane collapsed?" Hagiel asked as he looked it over critically. He was no son of Dorn, and he only had a passing familiarity with such devices. Not for the first time, Hagiel wished that he had at least one Imperial Fist... or even a Black Templar, zealous as those cousins could be... As they were well-versed in the fortifications of all sorts and the rebuilding of cities in the aftermath of battle. 

"There was a concern that when the crane was installed that the ground might give out beneath it, as we hadn't been able to test for the underlying stability of the ground it's supposed to be anchored to... But there isn't really a good spot to place the crane with it also being in a place where it will be most effective. We'd hoped that it would work and... This happened. Damn thing tipped over ten minutes ago, and Jace here immediately went off to get you to see what you can do to help, Lord Angel. We also sent a couple of people to get the big fuck-off mobile magnet in case this thing is too much for you to move, as I don't know how much weight you can safely shift, sir." The mortal leader of the repair crew explained, gesturing a little as she spoke, a sigh leaving her.

Hagiel looked over at the Crane and asked "Can it come apart without it being damaged? I am uncertain if I can lift the entire thing, but I should be able to lift both the working arm and the vertical arm without too much trouble - especially in my power armor. All of it together... If I had a squad or two of my fellow Astartes, the answer to that would be an unquestioned yes. But there is only so much a single astartes is capable of." Hagiel admitted, a flash of guilt and shame running through him.

"Thank you for being up front with me. I understand that admitting to one's limitations sucks, especially in situations like this, but we desperately need you in top shape, Lord Angel." The mortal murmured, a gentleness in her eyes and a warmth in her voice. "As for the crane... We can use one of the Lazer saws to cut the working arm and the vertical column apart from one another - as well as the vertical column from the base of the crane. While there are less damaging ways to do that, it would take too long for those trapped if we did. Some of them are really badly injured."

"They are indeed. I can smell the blood in the air. The quicker we move, the more likely it is that more of the trapped mortals will survive... But too much haste makes waste." Hagiel responded. "I am ready to help when necessary."

"I'll signal the lazer cutters to start moving - which part of the crane do you intend on moving first?" The repair crew leader asked, taking the fact that he could smell blood on the air entirely in stride.

"I'm going to start with the working arm, as that's the part of the crane that seems to be trapping the most mortals - where is a place where I can move it too where it will be less in the way?" Hagiel responds, looking around the area carefully.

"We'll direct you to the spot once you've moved it - if you can on your own. We'll likely just have you lift it up and move the people out of the way, before putting it back down again. Reprocessing the working arm of the crane is going to be a task for our team once the injured and possible dead are recovered, Lord Angel." The mortal answered promptly.

Hagiel nodded, as he had decided to defer to her greater expertise in this area. "Very well. I will get into place and please signal me when it's time for me to lift it."

"I will. By Him on Terra I hope this goes as intended." The mortal sighed.

"As do I." Hagiel answered before walking through the construction site to where the working arm of the crane lay, hearing the high-pitched buzzing whine of the lazer saws cutting through the metal of the crane. He walked until he was close to the mid-point of the long arm. He spent a couple of minutes stretching his shoulders and arms as the saws continued to work, waiting for the repair crew leader to signal to him. 

He got it less than five minutes later. Hagiel took in a deep breath, shifting into as proper a squat position as the broken ground would allow him, to give himself a stable base from which to lift the and activated the strength-enhancing properties of his power armor as his armored hands wrapped firmly around the HSLA steel pole, grunting a little as he started to lift the long and heavy lattice of steel up and off of the trapped mortals. His power armor flashed a warning in his helmet's HUD, which Hagiel could hear but not see, as his helmet was currently clipped to his belt. His wrist-mounted vox chirped and he called this "I can hold this for about five minutes. Move quickly. Please!" 

"Understood, Lord Angel!" The construction crew leader called out before getting the silently stunned mortals to move, and to grab their injured compatriots out from under the working arm of the construction crane.

True to his word Hagiel was able to hold it for five minutes before the sheer weight and length of the latticework of steel and metal started to cause his arms to shake "You have... Two more minutes left max. One certainly. Then I have to put this down."

His words were acknowledged, even as several mortals wailed for him to keep holding it up, that they were just about to be saved. Hagiel held the huge construction beam for as long as he could, before he heard his power armor whine and click and bellowed at the top of his lungs "CLEAR THE AREA!"

Thankfully these mortals had the flee, rather than the freeze response and fled as Hagiel's power armor failed on him, and the steel beam slipped from his exhausted finger tips. He heard several painful crunches and agonized, choked screams from the mortals, kneeling down as the dead-weight of his own armor forced him to his knees.

Two of the mortal medics rushed over to him, asking "Are you injured, Lord Angel?"

"I am uninjured. But if you could press the button under here, to activate the emergency release, I'd be grateful. My power armor failed on me." Hagiel explained, gesturing with considerable effort to the hidden spot.

"Yes, lord Angel." The bolder of the two medics responded, reaching up and under his armor and pressing the button, startling as the vacuum seals hissed and popped, allowing Hagiel to remove his armor. He was currently clad in only his body suit - which left little to the imagination and graciously ignored the brief, flustered stares of the mortals as they saw his muscular physique. "I am going to take my armor to be charged and return as soon as I am able."

"Of... Of course Lord Angel. Take the time you need." The bolder mortal medic responded, doing their best not to ogle his body, for which Hagiel was grateful.