#you have to be monitored the entire time when u take it

[wp100]

I've been lurking on the mj subreddit for quite some time now and the amount of people who think that "last phone call" he had is real... It's not real. It's fake.

I read some random person made it up to boost their music or some shit idk. But it's definitely not real. Doesn't sound like him if you listen closely. It wasn't in the trial or anything. Just conspiracy shit people fall for.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it. 

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something. 

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken. 

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel." 

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for. 

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge. 

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" 

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration. 

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring. 

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me." 

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you. 

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch. 

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708. 

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda. 

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.” 

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.” 

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?” 

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.” 

“Miguel, what the fuck—” 

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.” 

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.” 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?” 

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.” 

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?” 

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?” 

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal. 

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count. 

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you. 

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side. 

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat. 

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste. 

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core. 

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo." 

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass. 

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had. 

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: I Choose You

Request: Anonymous said: "jealous tyler or jealous reader would be interesting to read 👀"

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: none!

A/N: not sure how i feel about this one but I gave it a go and wanted to make sure I posted!

Tyler tells himself that he’s over thinking… maybe even reading too much into things. 

But God, he swears he isn’t imagining the way that you and the reporter he’d agreed to let tag along for the next week naturally interact with one another with such ease. 

Tyler is not a jealous person– he’s confident and secure and he trusts you. Jealousy is petty and it’s stupid. And Tyler’s been trying his whole life to prove to himself and everyone around him that he’s not stupid.

Tyler has a loose shock to repair before the storm they’ve been tracking rolls in later that day. He’s currently laying on the dirt at the rest stop they’ve pulled in, with a wrench in his hand. Dani’s shining their flashlight for him, and it’s important he stays focused. And he tries… really, he does. 

But Tyler looks up just as the reporter laughs at a joke you’ve made. And then, he reaches out to touch your arm for the added effect. Tyler nearly drops the wrench he’s holding on his face at the sight. 

“Easy, T,” Dani says, studying him closely. 

He takes a deep breath before looking back towards the truck. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Dani asks, kicking his shoulder gently with their boot. 

“Nothing,” Tyler grumbles in a tone that screams there is absolutely something wrong. Thankfully Dani doesn’t push. 

…

Throughout the rest of the week, Tyler tries to talk himself down whenever jealousy rears its ugly head. He keeps telling himself that he’s being irrational– you’re not flirting with the reporter everytime you walk with him into the gas stations they stop at, or offer to ride with him in the van instead of Tyler’s truck, where you normally sit. You’re just trying to be friendly… make him feel at ease. 

But did he really have to look at you that way while you studied the GPS monitoring system? Or share his fucking cookies with you when everyone ate lunch in the field? And did you have to laugh so loudly at every single joke he made?

Tyler finds out on the second night he’s tagging along that Henry’s a fucking Columbia grad on top of a stupid self-proclaimed comedian. The two of you are sitting around the fire talking about graduate degrees when Henry turns towards him. 

“Did you two meet at school then?” Henry asks.  

Tyler smiles, but instead of warmth it’s laced with sarcasm. “Nope, I don’t have one of those fancy degrees, Henry. In fact, none of us but her do.” 

Henry turns back towards you and proceeds to ask more questions about your time studying meteorology at the U of A. Meanwhile, Tyler is left to simmer in his own self pity, wondering if it bothered you that he isn’t educated like Henry. 

Tyler has to spend the rest of the week fighting the urge to make it known you’re his– he’s had thoughts of keeping a permanent hand planted on your waist right in front of Henry. Maybe if he pulled you in for a kiss a little more often, and really claimed you as his, this guy would back the hell off. 

But Tyler quickly shakes away the thought. 

Because claiming you like an object is stupid, and Tyler is not stupid. 

…

Tyler grabs you a coffee from the nearest gas station and brings it back to the motel because he’s really trying to move past all this shit. You’re sitting with Lilly and fiddling with the drone when he tries to hand it to you. 

You offer him an appreciative smile that warms his entire chest. Tyler’s definitely been overreacting, because you’re looking at him with such love and admiration in your eyes. 

“Thanks, but I’ve already had some today,” you say, crushing every hope inside of him in an instant. “Why don’t you give it to Dani?  They take their coffee the same as I do.”

“When did you have time to get coffee?” he asks, trying to play it cool. 

You reply so simply, like the words don’t slice right through his heart. “I didn’t, Henry brought me one.”

Tyler’s jaw tightens. It’s a gesture you don’t notice, because you’re too busy focusing on the drone half in your lap. 

What you do seem to notice, is the way he scoffs. It makes yours and Lilly’s heads both turn. 

But before you can reply, Tyler’s already walking away. He clutches the coffee firmly in his hand and without a word, drops the full cup in the trash can outside the motel. 

…

Tyler has to remind himself that he’s not angry.

At least not at you.  

You and him have a great relationship. He trusts you and that’s all there is to it. Whether it’s Henry or whoever else–  you never gave Tyler a reason to be worried. 

But Tyler doesn’t like the way seeing you with the reporter makes him feel. Because at any moment, you could leave him for someone with a more respectable career– someone with fair skin and button up polos who just looked like they had their shit together. Someone with a college degree… someone a hell of a lot smarter than him. 

Seeing you with him made Tyler feel vulnerable, like he had something to lose– because he had everything to lose. 

…

The crew spends another week chasing in Oklahoma. The season’s winding down, but they still managed to catch two EF0s and an EF1. 

Tyler’s been avoiding you for most of the week. He’d offer the truck space to Boone and Lilly, he’d sit next to Dexter around the fire at night… hell, he would hardly even look at you. 

You turned down his coffee earlier in the week. Only after the fact did you realize that you should have just taken the damn thing. You understand that rejecting him after he went out of his way to do something nice for you hurt his feelings… But you can’t understand how that turned into an entire week of the silent treatment. 

On numerous instances, you try to approach him. But he always has somewhere to run off to. 

“I gotta help Dani with the van’s oil change.”

“I gotta see if Boone got the footage we need.”

“I gotta give Dexter a hand with the radar.”

You’re getting sick of it. 

You try to distract yourself for the rest of the week– you ask Lilly to explain more about how to work her drone, you keep on top of the radar– looking for forming storm cells, and you try to make the reporter Tyler had invited along for the week feel welcome. 

Henry’s nice– he’s completely new to storm chasing and has loads of questions all the time. You find it slightly annoying that he’s so interested in Tyler… but you get it. And even though you’re a little irritated with Tyler for your week-long silent-treatment sentence, you still want him to sound as good as possible in the article, so you talk him up every chance you can. 

You know that this lack of communication can’t last. And the second Henry goes back to Boston to write his piece, you plan to corner Tyler and force him into telling you what the hell you’d done wrong. But until then, you don’t want to cause a scene. So, you sit back, spend more time talking with Henry about Tyler, and try like hell not to lose your mind.

…

It’s more for his own sanity than anything. It’s like seeing you with Henry has caused this sudden realization to pop into his head… You can do better– and honestly you deserve better than him. The thought is all consuming. It makes focusing on anything else incredibly difficult. 

“You gonna tell us what the hell is up?” Lilly asks one day. 

Tyler’s currently standing in the bed of his truck, tinkering things that didn’t really need to be fixed just to stay busy. 

“What do you mean?” he replies without looking up.

“I mean are you going to tell us why you two love birds haven’t spoken in like three days?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler notices Boone glancing his way with an expression on his face that says he was wondering the same thing. 

“We’ve spoken,” Tyler says dismissively. 

“Telling her you don’t have room for her in the truck doesn’t count,” Lilly retorts. “C’mon, seriously, Ty. What’s wrong?”

Tyler sets his tool down and looks down at Lilly. “Nothing is wrong.”

Lilly rolled her eyes. “Okay, well are you sure she knows that? Cause Dani and I saw her crying in the bathroom.” 

Tyler lets out a long exhale– the thought of you upset instantly filling his insides with sorrow. But the thought that he was the one to make you upset is even worse. 

“I know it’s not my business,” Lilly adds. “But I’ve been watching you give her the silent treatment all week, and that’s not going to fix anything. I know Henry’s still here and it’s been a crazy week–”

Tyler can’t help the scoff that escapes his lips at the mention of Henry’s name.

Lilly pauses before a look of understanding washes over her. “You’re pissed that she’s been hanging with Henry.” She says it as a statement instead of a question. 

“I’m not–”

“I’ve known you for six years, don’t even try to deny it. You are– you’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

With his lips pursed in a thin line, Tyler raises an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I am. Does that make you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”

Now it was Lilly’s turn to scoff. “Of course it doesn’t make me happy. You’re being an idiot.”

“What?” 

“I said that you’re being an idiot,” Lilly says, annunciating each word insultingly. 

“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “I’m well aware that I’m an idiot, but thanks for reminding me.”

“I said you’re being an idiot, Tyler. Not that you are one. Now stop sulking and fucking listen for once in your goddamn life.”

It’s so out of the ordinary for Lilly to snap that Tyler actually does shut his mouth. 

“You invite a reporter on the road with us and then you don’t give him the time of day to answer any of the questions he has. You’re short and curt and to be honest, kind of fucking rude anytime he asks you anything. Y/N is being polite– and she’s hosting the guest you invited along. So don’t fucking blame her just because you’re insecure.” 

Tyler can feel the anger rising in his own chest, he wants to get defensive– to snap back at Lilly. But deep down, he knows she’s right, so he stifles any comebacks and instead hangs his head. 

Lilly sighs. “You’re not an idiot, Tyler. So stop acting like one.”

…

After letting Lilly’s words really sink in, Tyler decides that she’s right. For the first time all week, he’s motivated to actually talk with you and make things right. 

Or at least he is right until he sees Henry approaching you in the parking lot. He’s too far away to hear what Henry has to say. But he’s not so far away that he doesn't see the folded up piece of paper that he passes you. 

In an instant, everything Lilly had said– along with all the things he’s said to convince himself he’s been overreacting flies away with the wind. Because Henry just gave you his fucking phone number. 

Tyler turns– needing to get as much space from whatever exchange he just witnessed as he possibly can. In a few, long, angry strides, Tyler reaches his truck and climbs inside. In the distance, he hears Lilly call after him. But he pretends he doesn’t hear. Instead, he slams the door shut, starts the ignition and drives away. 

…

“Where’s he goin’?” Boone says just as you approach him and the rest of the crew. 

“Dunno. He didn’t say anything to you?” Dani asks, turning towards Lilly. 

She shakes her head, eyes squinting against the bright sun. 

“What the hell is his problem?” you say frustratedly, biting back tears. 

Stupidly, you’d let yourself get your hopes up earlier in the day when Tyler had offered you a small smile over breakfast. You had thought that maybe things were alright, and that he was finally over whatever had been bothering him so badly. 

But now you’re standing in the cloud of dust he just left behind after taking off in his truck without a word to anyone and you know that isn’t the case. 

“Here I was thinking I helped last night,” Lilly says under her breath. 

You snap your head in her direction. “You talked to him?”

She shrugs. “I tried to.” 

“Did he say why he’s been so upset?”

Lilly hesitates. And truthfully, you understand why. Everyone here was Tyler’s friend first. You were the last to join the crew– inducted into the group just by being Tyler’s girlfriend. They have no obligation to be loyal to you over Tyler. 

“Forget it,” you say defeatedly, turning away as soon as you feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes. “It doesn’t even matter.” With that, you make your way towards the RV, painfully aware of everyone’s eyes trained on you the entire way. 

…

Tyler drives to the nearest gas station, desperate for space to clear his head. 

He knows he’s being dramatic and irrational at this point, but if he stayed at that rest stop another second, he didn’t know what would come out of his mouth. He really really had to get it together. But he can’t escape the fear inside of him– the one saying that meeting Henry helped you recognize that you could do so much better than him.

And now you had his phone number, to reach out whenever that realization hit. 

Why wouldn’t you be interested in Henry? He’s got a goddamn master’s degree from Columbia, he writes articles for the Globe, works out every morning before they go chasing–  apparently makes hilarious jokes… 

Tyler rests his forehead against the steering wheel and groans.

…

Tyler’s gone for an hour. But when he finally parks the truck back at the rest stop, he hasn’t shaken the sinking feeling inside of him. 

In a preemptive attempt to avoid questions he had snagged a bunch of snacks from the nearest gas station. If you ask where he’s been, he can just say he had a hankering for potato chips and call it good. 

Except, you don’t even look at him when he gets out of the truck. Boone’s got corn hole set up in the dirt. It looks like Boone and Henry versus Dani and Dexter while you watch. He only watches for a moment before bringing the bag of snacks into the RV. 

Secretly, Tyler’s been simultaneously excited for and dreading the end of the week. He’s excited for Henry to leave and excited to sleep in his own bed. But he’s dreading being back in your shared house. It’ll be the first time the two of you are forced to be alone, and he knows he’ll have to find the words to describe what he’s been feeling. 

But apparently Tyler’s stupid, because he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. 

All he knows is that he doesn’t want to lose you. And seeing you with Henry makes him feel like he’s about to lose you. Tyler doesn’t know how to say that to you without coming across as a total lunatic.  

…

You don’t want to cause a scene at the rest stop. But the minute you see Tyler head for the RV, you’re out of your seat and beelining it towards him while the rest of the team is distracted.

As soon as you hoist open the door, you find him hunched over the fridge, grabbing a water bottle. 

“What the hell?” is all you can manage to blurt out. You’re fuming and on the verge of tears. But you can’t help it– Tyler’s silent treatment has just about pushed you to the edge. 

Tyler whips around at the sound of your entrance… and maybe it was a little dramatic– but you need to get your point across. 

There’s a long pause while Tyler’s eyes study you. 

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all week?”

You’re met by more silence.  

“This is ridiculous, Tyler. Will you just talk to me?”

Finally, Tyler scoffs, “The reporter gave you his number, right?  Why don’t you talk to him?  I’m sure he’d love to talk.”

In an instant, a wave of understanding washes over you. But it isn’t overshadowed by the anger you feel. 

“Are you serious right now? You’re jealous of Henry?”

He shuts the fridge before cracking open his water bottle dismissively, ignoring your questions. 

“Tyler, are you forgetting that you’re the one who invited him with us this week? I mean, did you think he was just supposed to sit back and observe? He’s a reporter, of course he’s going to have questions… Questions that you were way more qualified to answer, but you were too busy being a jerk all week to answer any of them. So I did it for you–”

“I never asked for you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to– I did it for you!” you cry. “I did it so that he’d write you a good story– because you deserve that.” 

“Oh, how convenient. So you two just get along so well for my sake then?” he says. 

You exhale sharply. “Are you kidding me right now? We’ve spent the last week talking about you! I’ve been talking you up– telling him stories about what you do– how good you are at what you do– all the people you’ve helped–”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Yeah right,” he scoffs. 

You pause, anger slowly melting away at the realization that he genuinely didn’t believe anything you were saying. 

“Tyler,” you say seriously. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Henry. I’ve been answering his questions and telling him how fucking brave and generous and smart you are–”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps, voice cracking just slightly. “Just forget it, it doesn’t matter.” He sets his water bottle on the counter before moving to step by you. 

“Tyler stop–” you say, reaching for him. But he’s too quick. He reaches the door before you’re able to stop him. 

“Will you please stop walking away from me!” you blurt out frustratedly, tears forming in your eyes. “You’ve been running from me all week– I just… I just want to talk about this. Please–”

Tyler doesn’t turn to face you, but to your relief, he stops before opening the door. 

“There is nothing happening between me and Henry, Tyler. I mean, I promise you, absolutely nothing– I… I don’t know how else to convince you. But there’s nothing going on. I’m not into Henry–”

“I know,” he says quickly, eyes squeezing shut. 

You let your mouth fall open, confusion washing over you. “What?” 

“I know there’s nothing happening between you and Henry– I trust you and I believe you.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “So why are you so mad at me?”

Tyler pauses and bites his lip before saying, “I’m not mad at you–” he tries to explain. “I just… I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“I don’t understand why–”

You sigh. “Tyler, you’re not making any sense–”

Tyler’s face twists in anguish. “Why aren’t you into him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s everything I’m not. And I mean– Seeing you with him– it just made me realize that you can do so much better than me,”  Tyler says desperately, the pain almost palpable in his voice. “He’s got the fancy degree– he’s obviously smart–”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence, because the idea of anyone ever being better than Tyler was even more ludicrous than him being jealous in the first place. “Tyler, you’re smart–”

“I didn’t go to Columbia. I didn’t even finish my first year of undergrad.”

“I don’t care about any of that– you know I don’t–”

“Why?” he blurts out harshly, finally turning to look at you. “Why do you even want me when you can have someone like him?”

Tyler didn’t think he was good enough for you– and that admission broke your fucking heart. In an instant, all the reasons you loved Tyler flow through your head. There’s so many, you can’t even keep up. 

So instead, you reach into your pocket and pull out the note Henry had given you just hours earlier– the one Tyler apparently saw him give you. He watches as you unfold the piece of paper, quickly revealing that it’s not a phone number. 

“It’s his mom’s cookie recipe,” you explain. “The ones you refused to try. I talked to him about how you have a sweet tooth, and I said how much you love chocolate chip cookies, so he wrote it down for me. I thought I might be able to make them for you when we got home. Because I love you– and I love doing things that will make you happy. Because that’s what you do for me– you make me happy. All the time, just by existing.”

You watch as the realization washes over him.  

You sigh. “Did you ever stop and think about how I feel the same about you?”

He pauses before looking at you questioningly. 

“I mean, you’re you,” you say, gesturing towards him. “People adore you, Tyler. And rightfully so– but I’m always worried you’ll find someone better. But I don’t get hung up on it, because I trust you. I trust that you mean it when you tell me you love me and you choose me. And I need you to do the same for me, Tyler. I need you to trust me. Because I love you– and I always will.”

Tyler exhales, his eyes watery. 

“Can you do that?” you plead. 

To your relief, after a moment, he nods. 

You don’t hesitate before closing the gap between you and wrapping your arms around his middle. You lay your head on his chest just as his arms wind around your shoulders in an attempt to make up for all the hugs you’ve missed out on this week. Because as much as you love chasing in Oklahoma or Texas, your absolute favorite place to be is at home in his arms. 

“Cookie recipe, huh?” he muses above you, chin resting on top of your heads. 

You nod. “I’m a horrible baker, but I was going to give it a shot.”

Tyler tightens his grip around you. “Well horrible baker or not, I love you and I choose you.”

You let your eyes fall shut and inhale the familiar, comforting scent of him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” you say honestly. 

[forlix]

𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[wonryllis]

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 ! ENHYPEN REVEALING THEIR NON!IDOL S/O

╰ 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽.

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. idol!enhypen showing you. 𖥔 ݁ fluff LIB? fem!reader req 727wc.

𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 everyone knows okay everyone just does. it's in his eyes, it's in the way he speaks, it's in his body language, it's in the way he dresses, it's in the little advice and messages he leaves on weverse, it's in the pictures he posts. just everything exudes that he's a taken man desperately in love. his reveal is normal, an official announcement from the company the day after their contractual dating ban is over. appearing on a talk show after all excited to tell everyone about you to be hit by the realization that people actually did have idea just not that you are non celeb.

𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 he does not give a fuck about anyone but you. would reveal it so nonchalantly like he's on a live and fans accidentally spot you moving around in the background and he's like,"oh yeah that's my girl, would y'all like to say hi?" he'd call you over and have you sit on his lap the entire time, though not showing your face he doesn't want your privacy getting taken away. you both would laugh and interact with the comments and answer fan questions like you've been public for years. talking about first impressions, who's more clingy, why you chose him yk.

𝗷𝗮𝗲𝘆𝘂𝗻 he's scared, not for himself but for you. baby doesn't want his baby getting those hates and threats. he takes a little safer side, writing a personal note addressing the love of his life and asking to be respected and given privacy. monitors the response and as soon as everyone seems accepting he's showing you off everywhere he can, from talking about you on lives and interviews and shows to posting little tmis on social media. fans even grow to tease him with your name challenging him to things he wouldn't otherwise do. cutesy and hot alike.

𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 he has no intentions of revealing it like until he has a baby with you or something. but poor guy is so bad at concealing his feelings like he's on a show to give advice on fans queries and there's this specific question about how do you know you love someone and hoon is just K.O. ed rambles on about how there's this internal feeling and you just know it when you look at them, they're the best in the entire world and everything. then later on panics when articles surface about it, "oh my god baby they know! they know!" and he ends up confirming the rumours.

𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘄𝗼𝗼 this guy can't wait to let the world know about you, his special person, his home. takes every chance he gets to reveal y'all but the manager jumps in every single time telling him it's not the 'right time' yet. he's so annoyed now, he's taking it the dispatch way. sneakily going places without cover, not necessarily to you and then when the articles are out jumping at the first opportunity to introduce his lovely partner through a message to his fans. talking about how long he's been waiting to let them know this important person and how much he loves you.

𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 my boy is soft launching it. he's posting these random ass pictures of succulents and cardigans and hairpins and lipgloss and everyone is so confused until he starts with pictures of hands that are too pretty to be his, skirts with thighs that couldn't be him and lastly a picture of him twirling around someone with the caption,"everyone meet my baby! :))" and after that he's making everyone sick with lovey dovey pictures of you everyday everywhere, twitter, instagram, weverse you name it, everywhere! fans be getting every little update of your love life.

𝗿𝗶𝗸𝗶 leaves little hints and tricks here and there to get the fans crazy with suspicions but at the same time not enough to expose y'all. plays at it for about a year before he gets impatient and unsatisfied with just little bits and pieces wants to upload full on vlogs about his days with you. wanting to post things like 'dance challenge with my beloved' literally has it on the tip of his mouth "i love my girlfriend," begs the company to let him reveal it and they're like we never stopped you?? so he does talking about it with fans- my girlfriend does that too! my girlfriend would love that!

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @nanabbg @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi! maybe logan getting worried/protective over u after u get injured during a mission? 🥺🩷

Canon level (based on the comic books mostly) wounds and violence (it’s nothing too gory besides the wound description)

“Move out of my fucking way Scott,” you hear him before you see him which isn’t really a good sign.

You’d gone on a mission the same time he was out on one too, and though it had just been a simple recon mission, things got heated quick.

Zeitgeist was a bitch like usual, and you weren’t as fast as you might’ve been had there not been a falling child to save.

So now, your entire right side is rippled under the acid of his spit and you can’t deny the agony you’re in.

“She’s fine,” Scott says but you know your boyfriend.

He pushes past him and is at your side almost instantly. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to him being so close but when they settle on his face, the clear panic and worry is clear to see.

“I’m fine, Lo.” You say, teeth gritted through each word as Charles asses the wound.

You’re no longer in your suit, just in a pair of pants and a sports bra, your hair is drenched and Logan can only guess they just hosed you down to get rid of the majority of the acid.

It still burns like a bitch and you can’t hide that from the man who knows you so well.

“Bullshit,” he grumbles, hands brushing back the hair from your face. “Can’t you all do something instead of just fucking staring at it?”

The question is packed with worry that none of them are accustomed to seeing on Logan, but you swear you see Ororo smirk.

She’d been the only one to notice his soft underbelly- well beside you.

“We’re waiting for Hank to bring the antidote Logan,” you say gently, stroking his tense forearm. “I’m fine baby.”

It’s the ‘baby’ that softens him, that gets him to take a deep breath and press his forehead into yours.

“Fucking scared me,” he murmurs and the others all find themselves busy- besides Scott, he wants something to tease the man about as per the rules of their friendship. “Don’t do that shit again.” His hands are on your neck, thumbs under your chin so you can’t look away.

“I didn’t really have a choice, I had to save the kid.” He nods, pressing his lips to your temple. Hank saves him from blowing up again when you wince and the green acid bubbles a little more.

“Fucking finally, what took you so long?” He grunts, Hank only shaking his head as he pours the blue liquid over your wound.

“Fuck,” you cry out, hand itching to press against your side or slap Hank’s hands away but Logan stops you.

“Fucking say something next time, yeah big guy?” He growls but then you hiss again and he’s all focused on you again.

“You’re good, you’re okay bub.” It’s whispered straight into your hairline and if you were a little more cognizant you’d notice that Logan can’t stop glaring at the wound.

“We caught it in time, the antidote won’t reverse the burn completely, but it will be soothing it and fixing the majority of it.” Hank pulls on gloves, the snap of it on his wrist filling the room. “There’s a salve you need to put on it for the healing process.”

“Thanks Hank,” you whisper, much too tired for much else. “Can I go now?” Logan notices then how utterly exhausted you look and sets aside his anger and worry for a moment to dote on you.

“Yes, but Logan monitor the wound and how it heals over the next few weeks. The skin should be back to normal when the salve is done.” The professor says and Logan nods dutifully before picking you up off the med and taking the salve from Hank.

“C’mon, pretty girl.” He takes you back to your room and is smearing the salve on your side. “You’re not doing that shit again, I swear to whatever there is.”

You give him a small smile, “Getting hurt is part of it Logan, I can’t avoid that completely.”

He frowns and then presses a kiss right above your wounded side. “You don’t get how scary it is to hear, ‘she’s in the infirmary, an acid wound’, I nearly ripped Bobby in half.”

You stretch a hand to bury in his hair. “I know baby, but this was just a one time thing. Zeitgeist isn’t exactly unscathed either.”

Logan smiles, his lips pressing into your unblemished skin again. “Fire burns Logan, what can I say.”

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” You giggle a little, more so when he holds your cheeks and stamps a kiss to your lips. “Get some shut eye, m’gonna get one of the kids to make you soup.”

[kimmie2me]

Dynamite and His Player 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Twitch Gamer!Bakugou x AFAB!Reader

.....

Bakugou glances over at the camera, brows furrowed as he adjusts his headset. "Alright, you extras, get ready to shut the hell up," he growls, his voice laced with annoyance. "She’s real. I’ve got her right here, and she’s playing with me tonight."

You laugh off-screen, causing his chat to explode with reactions. Up until now, they didn't believe a word Bakugou said when he claimed he had a girlfriend. After all, this is the guy known for his explosive reactions when things go slightly wrong. He grumbles, trying to keep his cool, but the slight blush on his cheeks gives him away.

The game loads up, some horror-puzzle co-op that requires a ton of coordination. But while Bakugou’s all business—focused on solving puzzles and surviving—you have other ideas. You’re busy teasing him, wandering off to explore the map, or purposely messing up just to get a rise out of him.

"Can you just—dammit! Will you STOP wandering off?" Bakugou snaps as he watches your character take another detour. "We’re supposed to be working together!"

You grin at the screen, purposely moving your character in circles. "Aw, come on, Suki~ We’re just having fun, right?"

His jaw clenches, and he mutters something under his breath about "not having fun if you keep screwing around." But his viewers are eating it up, laughing at his frustration and flooding the chat with comments like "She's brave for messing with him, LMAO😭😭" and "Bros .4 seconds away from exploding his monitor for the 10 millionth time🪦"

Eventually, he just huffs, slouching in his chair and mumbling, "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. I’ll just wait here." His expression says he's beyond annoyed, but the hint of a smile peeking through his scowl gives away that maybe, just maybe, he's actually having a little fun too.

Grumpy Twitch Gamer Bakugou Headcanons

...

— Every time he messes up, he narrows his eyes at the camera with that “are you stupid?” glare. Chat spams "IT’S NOT OUR FAULT!” and "WHY R U LOOKING AT US LIKE WE DID THAT??" but he just huffs, “If you idiots weren’t DISTRACTING me…”

— Bakugou’s streaming style is brutally honest—constantly throwing out curses like it’s second nature. If he dies in-game, his go-to is, “How the hell am I supposed to win with this garbage game?!” and he never blames himself, ever.

— He has zero chill. Every so often, he’ll pound the desk so hard that the camera shakes, and one time he punched his mic so fiercely that it cut out, leaving chat in hysterics as he tries to fix it, muttering about “this piece of crap gear.”

— After every gaming session, he gives a review of the game he’s playing—most of which devolve into full-on rants about terrible controls, stupid enemies, and “whoever the hell designed these levels.” At this point, it's an entire essay by the time he's done.

— There are moments when he hits the mute button just to scream or cuss off-mic. Chat sees him red-faced and mouthing words, knowing he’s losing it, which makes them spam laugh emotes to annoy him further.

— Sometimes, when things get really bad, he just simply says "Okay." and goes quiet, leaning in close to the screen with this intense focus. Chat knows that if he’s silent, it’s only because he’s plotting to obliterate whatever got him killed.

— It’s become a running joke with his followers—every time he streams, they place bets on which piece of his equipment he’ll break. He’s replaced his keyboard three times already and had to upgrade his camera stand because he broke the last one during a particularly heated rage quit.

— When he finally beats a level, he acts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “See? Wasn’t even hard, you just have to not be a dumbass.” Cue the smug smirk.

— Occasionally, in his absolute rage, he’ll end the stream immediately after a loss. One second he’s there, screaming at the game, and then—stream offline.

— Despite all the rage, he’s actually insanely good at gaming. When he goes on a winning streak, chat blows up with admiration, but he barely acknowledges it. “’Course I won—who the hell do you think I am?”

— He has zero patience for backseat gamers. “Oh, you think you could do better? Why don’t you go start your own damn channel, then!” The mods know by now to instantly time out anyone who even hints at suggesting how he should play, and the ban count is astronomical by the end of each stream.

— Occasionally, Bakugou gets so into the game that he goes almost silent, and chat jokes it’s an ASMR session because all they can hear is his intense breathing and muttered curses. “Oi, STOP saying it’s ASMR, it’s not ASMR, you freaks!”

— Loading screens are his worst enemy. Every single time, he glares directly into the camera, arms crossed and seething, ranting about the “stupid long loading times” and how he could’ve “beat the damn game twice by now.” and how "a whole child could've been born by now." Chat watches in suspense because they know the rage is simmering, just waiting to explode.

— If he’s playing a console game, the controller does not have a safe future. He’s thrown it across the room, slammed it on his knee or desk, and even threatened it like, “You’re next, you little piece of shit, keep messing up on me.” He’s gone through so many controllers that his sponsor had to send him extras.

— When he loses in a PvP game, he has 1,001 excuses. “Lag. Dumb luck. Exploiter. The devs nerfed my character, obviously.” If chat calls him out, he just scoffs, “You think that was my fault? Keep dreaming.” And the mods instantly clear out any “L” spam from chat because he’s already dangerously close to slamming his keyboard.

— His channel has special emotes for when he loses his temper—explosion icons, angry Bakugou faces, and even one of his own “ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME?!” face. Chat spams these whenever he starts heating up, which only fuels his fire.

— His viewers love to try and provoke him. Someone will innocently say, “Hey Dynamight, I think you missed something back there,” and he’ll instantly pause, glare at the screen, and say, “I DIDN’T MISS ANYTHING, DUMBASS, WE'RE MOVING ON.” It’s like a game within the game for his followers. (He goes back to check right after.)

— “Easy mode?” he scoffs at the suggestion. “I’d rather throw myself into a fire than play on easy mode.” Even if he’s dying over and over, he’ll never, ever change the difficulty. Chat has tried for months to get him to switch, but he’s stubbornly loyal to “the only real mode” (aka Hard Mode, Nightmare mode or above).

— If he actually wins a match, he’s unbearable. He’ll sit there, grinning and basking in his victory, smirking at the camera with a smug, “And that, extras, is why I’m better than every single one of you.” Cue chat sarcastically clapping.

— He once had a bet with his mods that he’d try to do a stream without cursing or raging. He lasted five minutes before he exploded, screaming, “THIS GAME IS FUCKING RIGGED!” after an unexpected jump-scare. The mods were dying, and he banned half of them out of spite (they were unbanned five minutes later, but still).

— Every time he’s about to start a new game, he’s got this exaggerated, dramatic intro: “ALRIGHT, EXTRAS, prepare yourselves ‘cause we’re about to dominate the shit outta this game. And if I see anyone backseat gaming, you’re banned. Don’t even THINK about telling me what to do.”

— Every now and then, when he dies for the tenth time in a row, he just deadpans to the camera, “I swear to God, I’m deleting my channel after this.” Chat knows he’s bluffing, but they still spam crying emojis like “NOOO PLEASE DON’T” just to mess with him.

— Every so often, when he’s focused on a tough level, he’ll mutter something like, “Okay, maybe you’re not so bad, chat. Don’t tell anyone I said that,” and the comments absolutely blow up with hearts and “WE LOVE YOU, DYNAMIGHT.” He immediately goes red and yells, “Didn’t mean it, idiots!” but it’s too late.

— Once, he rage-quit a game so hard that his entire setup fell silent. He’d punched the desk, and the screen went black. Chat watched in shock as the stream just… cut off. The clip went viral, with an entire 30-minute compilation titled “Every time Dynamight destroyed his setup” He came back the next day, reacted to it, and you already know he gave the video a thumbs down and left a long hate comment.

— His mods convinced him to play a “relaxing, casual game” that was secretly full of jump scares. The first time it happened, he almost flipped his entire desk. He immediately banned half of his mods and told the rest they were “on thin ice.” Chat still laughs about it every time he plays a “cute” game.

[honeydazai]

ok ok but hubby Fyodor gave me an idea, he’s figured out i get worried when his anemia gets bad so i fuss over him

imagine like,,, him using that against u. like if he’s losing an argument, or he just wants attention, he fakes sickness to get u to drop everything ur doing and come to his aid, u immediately feel bad so he uses that to manipulate u

feat.: Fyodor / reader

content: husband Fyodor, some manipulation but it's cute, Fyodor pretending to be a pathetic meow meow, fluff, sick fic

Fyodor is fragile, that much you're aware of.

Despite his quick mind, so sharp you reckon it could cut diamond, and his powerful ability, his physical body is still frail. His skin is pale, most likely since he spends too much time inside, hunched over in front of his many PC screens, providing him with no light other than the gloom of LED monitors, thin fingers tip-tapping away on the keyboard. His undereye circles are dark enough for you to seriously worry about his health, and the many blue veins visible on thin eyelids only make him appear more sickly.

The anemia doesn't help, either; thin lips occasionally turn whiteish the longer he insists he's going to take his iron supplements once he's done with work — when is he, ever? — and his nails, kept short not only for the sake of being able to play the cello, but also since he continued biting at them, are coloured blue so often you have almost forgotten what they usually look like.

Fyodor, despite being an internationally wanted terrorist, is fragile, and that's exactly why you're unable to stop the way your chest suddenly aches with concern when he goes quiet mid-argument, gaze unfocused, glassy, as he sits down on the bed.

This really isn't the time to worry about him, especially since, just a few moments ago, you were snarling at him, obviously angered for a reason that seems entirely unimportant right now — and yet you can't help it either, your concern an emotion that blooms in your chest so very naturally, given just how much he means to you.

“Are you alright?” The words leave your mouth before you know it; your brows furrowing as you kneel down next to him, one hand on his thin upper arm. Even through the fabric of his shirt, his skin is cold. “Do you need anything?”

“I'm quite alright, dear. I would hate to bother you, especially when you still seem to harbour disdain for me.”

Even his voice sounds frail. Guilt gnaws at your every bone.

“That's not—”, you protest, a feeble attempt, though you're quick to swallow the urge to start another argument down the moment he rests his head against the wall, eyes fluttering shut, ebony lashes against snow pale skin. “I don't 'harbour disdain' . I didn't even want to fight with you, it just — happened, but that's not important now. Let me help. Did you take your meds today?”

“Not yet, I'm afraid”, Fyodor says softly, and you're up on your feet almost immediately, making your way towards the kitchen to snag the offending pills, as well as a glass of water.

“You know you're supposed to take them daily with lunch.”

“That is merely to avoid forgetting them, to build a habit. The presence or absence of sustenance has no actual effect on them.”

Your eyes narrow. Fyodor allows a tired chuckle to leave his lips.

“Alright. I will try to take them regularly — for you, dear.”

Where, just a few minutes ago, you felt the urge to slap him with wrath — not that you ever would, not that you'd dare to, but the desire certainly is there whenever he acts all high and mighty, all-knowing, even around you —, your chest now tingles with warmth, with fondness. With love.

“Thank you. Are you feeling better already?” That's to be doubted, especially since he only took the pills a moment ago. Still— “Do you need anything? Maybe something to eat — yes, I bet you haven't eaten anything in a while now, too focused on work. You're impossible. Just lie down and give me a moment, I'll be right back.”

With those words, you vanish into the kitchen, already grabbing some vegetables. A quick soup is going to have to do.

Little do you know that, while you're busy worrying and fussing over him, there's a smile playing over Fyodor's lips ever so often, vanishing the moment you enter the room once more.

You really are too easy — though that's exactly what makes you quite this lovable.

OH. Oh, he would.. he so would... this is the most in character take ever...

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[slytherinshua]

BOY DAD INTAK

genre. fluff. headcanons. non-idol au but music-related/piwon related stuff is still mentioned!! warnings. pregnancy/parent/baby stuff. sooo messy i'm very sorry abt that. not proofread. pairing. husband!intak x fem!reader. wc. 1.1k. request. for @blue-jisungs <33 a/n. i wanted to finish this quickly esp with everything going on just so maybe u have smth to distract urself axe ☹️☹️☹️ i love u so much <33 net. @kstrucknet

When he finds out you’re pregnant he’s honestly so shocked

But a good shocked of course

Safe to say it wasn’t entirely planned sjdksjs 

You’re both still very young but even though it was unexpected Intak is ready to be a dad and super excited for it :( 

He’s the best at taking care of you during your pregnancy 

He always was when you were dating but he takes extra steps to make sure all your needs are met

He will always make sure you have whatever food you’re craving 

Plus he’s down to try the weird combinations as well

More often than not they taste terrible to him while you’re chowing down 

But he finds it endearing 

He’ll watch you eat from across the table with his head rested on his fist and a smile on his face

He keeps track of what meds you should be taking and reminds you when you forget

Although his work can keep him busy sometimes, he’d drop everything for you if you needed it 

He will always always make it to your appointments 

Just because he’s not the one growing the baby doesn’t mean he can skip out on any of the steps— it’s his child as well after all

And he makes sure to always answer his phone and check his texts even if you’re updating him about your day he’ll take the time to text you back 

He doesn’t announce that you’re pregnant to the other members until you’re well along in your second trimester 

But it’s met with excitement from everyone 

Probably a look from Keeho and a throwaway “aren’t y’all still young?”

But he’s over the moon excited to be an uncle trust he’s going to be present in the baby’s life

Theo would gift you all the practical things you could need like diapers, monitors, and bottles 

Once the baby arrives Jiung will probably meal prep some food for both of you (which you are forever grateful for) 

Soul finds the most interesting baby toys on the market but despite Intak’s slight judgemental look when he receives them, you think they’re all great

Jongseob is fully composing lullaby and nursery rhymes, except you’re a little unsure of how easy they are to follow once he throws in complicated rap rhythms 

Keeho’s proud of Intak and excited for you— he knows you’ll be the best parents

But as the leader, he’s also more than eager to help out wherever you need it, especially with cleaning or just little things to help you destress when you need it, mainly during postpartum :’)

Intak is extra clingy while you’re pregnant, especially when your bump starts to show

Even if it’s only been a few days since it was visible, he is all over you

You probably receive a million kisses a day, and trust his arms are always wrapped around your waist, feeling your bump with that proud dad smile on his face

Always says his son is gonna have the coolest dad ever, and you can’t even argue with him because you do think Intak is gonna be the coolest dad ever

And when your son arrives, Intak couldn’t be prouder

Definitely cries holding him for the first time, and is probably very emotional the first couple of days

But he is also your biggest support

He’s doing absolutely everything he can to make sure you can rest after delivery; seriously won’t let you lift even a finger

He shows you off even more than before, he just thinks you’re so incredible and amazing for everything you’re capable of, and how good of a mom you are

He’s more in love with you than ever

Each milestone your son reaches is so important to Intak, from his first smile, to his first word (which he’s proud to say was “dada”), to his first steps and first day of school

Intak is one of those dads who is constantly giving all his friends and family updates about your little ones and sharing cute moments of his son with him

He’s so close with his son, and you’re always happy to see them spending time together

Of course, he’s gonna raise his son right!!

From an early age, he’s always talking to his son about doing things for mom; whether it be cleaning the house cause you had a long day, planning a surprise date cause it’s been a while, or buying you flowers because it’s mother’s day

Doesn’t matter if your son can’t even talk yet, Intak will still be talking about every occasion that is important to you

And they plan all the special things together <3

Dressed up in matching suits for your first mother’s day, and your heart melted :(

Intak includes your son in everything, and they just make the best duo, you couldn’t be happier to have them in your life

Date nights with Intak used to be a super regular thing in your early marriage, but it becomes pretty tricky with a kid to manage

You rely on Intak’s friends to babysit a lot, especially Keeho and Theo who are more than happy to compete for best uncle award

You can usually sneak in at least 3 dates per month amidst your busy schedule <3

Intak is the best person ever to comfort his son and also to give the best advice

He’ll always wipe his tears and assure him whenever he stumbles, especially as a toddler/little kid around 2-6

He’s always telling his son how proud he is of him and how he can do anything he ever wants to and be backed by his dad

As your son grows older, Intak gets a bit more emotional about it

Because he’s not as small and dependent as he used to be :(

Especially at around age 5-6, he’s really getting out of his shell, and Intak feels bittersweet about it

Of course, he’s beyond proud of his son for making new friends and trying out new things by himself with the introduction of school

But he also misses those more quiet days when it was just you two and your baby doing everything together :(

Your son starts to develop some of Intak’s habits, and you find it so cute how he’s becoming a little carbon copy of his dad

They share the same interests and can always be found playing together

Definitely starts enjoying music with his son really early on and is always dancing and singing/rapping with his kiddo <3

And also loves to get into sports with his son and compete (although he’ll almost always let his son win)

You find it incredible how they can stay entertained together for hours

Of course, Intak doesn’t have endless energy like his son does, but he still somehow keeps up just running off of love and pride for his kid

Best boy dad you could ever ask for !!!

↳ p1harmony taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @amara-mars,, @nyukyusnz,, @blossominghunnie,,

@wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,,

@cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,, @stannwjnss,,

@gong-fourz,, @forever-atiny

[hannieehaee]

hello!! can i please a kwan drabble with dom seungkwan where he sees u really turned on and squirmy watching him at practice bc he dances with a very serious/mean expression and ur imagining how mean he can be in bed? so he shows u after?

18+ / mdi

content: softdom!seungkwan, afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1659

a/n: i sinned again and wrote softdom!kwan instead of dom!kwan sorryyyy i realized im just not good at writing full on dom lol i hope u still enjoy<3

masterlist

despite popular belief, seungkwan wasn't always as soft and adorable as people had a tendency to claim.

he was an idol after all, which always came with an insane level of duality. while at some moments he could make your heart melt with his cute demeanor, there were other times in which his behavior on stage could not help but leave you wanting more.

as his girlfriend, you had been made privy of all sides of seungkwan. however, he was usually extra sweet towards you. even though your dynamic between each other had vast variety, most of the time seungkwan treated you like royalty, tending to you more often than not.

due to this, you'd always kind of had a preconceived notion of your boyfriend. you saw him like a softie. a man who lives to coo at you and take care of you in ways that were often unnecessary but always appreciated (i mean no one needed to be literally spoon fed, yet seungkwan would sometimes insist on it).

now, however, you were seeing quite a different image of your boyfriend.

you had seen seungkwan perform plenty of times. had attended many of his concerts overseas, even. but you had never truly gotten such a close glimpse of this seungkwan before. it was as if his on-stage persona had blended in with the sweet seungkwan you were so used to.

you were currently in the hybe practice room along with all thirteen members and a few close staff. it had only been about an hour since the boys had started practicing, but their bodies were already drenched in sweat and their minds consumed by the task at hand.

as per usual, there were a few members who would get a little extra serious whenever it came to rehearsing. while some would goof off a bit, others would even take on an entire different personality as the performance consumed them. you'd always observe the former to be chan, soonyoung, and maybe sometimes vernon. but this time your boyfriend had joined in and become completely consumed by his reflection in the mirror as he meticulously monitored even the slightest flick of his hand.

by then you were practically just a nameless spectator. your presence did not matter as you simply sat in silence, equally consumed by the sight of your boyfriend. he had a face of extreme concentration, with his eyebrows furrowed in what one could sense to be anger. accompanied by his frown was a harsh disposition you had yet to see in your boyfriend. he was becoming visibly frustrated by any slight mistake he committed, roughing up his water bottle whenever he stopped for a quick drink and adding a little extra sharpness to every one of his movements (even while he wasnt dancing).

although embarrassed by it, you were starting to feel a certain type of way at seeing your boyfriend like this.

you had heard stories of his anger coming out while rehearsing with the members. fights that had come up among them; sometimes little spats while other times dragged-out feuds. you had never witnessed any of these, but deep down you had wanted to. specially now, getting a taste of how he looked when he was feeling angry.

you tried ro remain calm, you really did. distracting him when he was so focused and in the zone would just be a disturbance to not only him but also to the members. but who could blame you? for months you'd been craving to see a different side of your boyfriend, one that was a little mean. and now you maybe would have the chance of riling him up a bit more than he already was.

which was why the next time he took a quick five-minute break from dancing to check in on you, you decided to play a bit dirty and whisper in his ear.

what you said to him, you'll never reveal. but it gave you the results you wanted as seungkwan immediately blushed and lost all bravado he previously had, making a dumb excuse to the members of why he'd need to take an extended break with you for a while.

that's how you led him into an empty changing room in the hybe hallways and cornered him, but you still had work to do. getting your boyfriend to fuck you was easy, but what you wanted was for your boyfriend to be mean to you. you wanted to bring back that angry and frustrated boy that had been unknowingly seducing you just mere moments ago.

for now the two of you just kissed. it was rough and nasty, with kwannie moaning against your lips as you manhandled him against the wall, whining when you created space between the two of you.

"kwannie ... want you to be mean to me," you breathed against his neck as you undid the buttons of his shirt.

"h– huh? mean?", he sounded surprised.

"yeah, kwannie. like back during practice. looked so angry and frustrated. kept cursing under your breath, it was so hot ..."

"oh ... was i– was i being mean? i– "

"no, but i want you to be. please?"

he kept stammering at you, breath heavy from your touches.

"what is it, baby? cant give me what i want? do you think maybe then one of the guys could? how about wonwoo? he seems like he cou– "

"don't finish that sentence unless you want me to get really mean."

finally.

mustering all the strength he had seemingly been hiding, your boyfriend twisted you around, getting your hands off him and bending you over a nearby table, with your chest now pressed up against the table and your hands being held behind your back.

"want mean? i'll give you mean. just remember you asked for it."

he let go of your hands to undo his pants, and then you made the mistake of moving your arms to get into a more comfortable position.

"did i say you could move?," he swatted your hands and put them back in place, "dont make me tie you up."

you felt chills at this, causing your ass to try and push back against his front. this only got a mocking laugh out of him.

"you're not in charge here, angel. move again and i'll make sure you won't move all week."

"but kwannie ..."

"did i say you could talk? you're gonna sit there like a good girl and take whatever i give you. you asked me to be mean, so im being mean," once his length was out he harshly pulled your own pants down, leaving you in just your thin panties, "you insinuated wanting to fuck one of my members because you were just so god damn thirsty for some dick, so im fucking you. what else can a brat possibly want?"

you said nothing, simply letting out a whine and a huff of frustration.

"good girl. not talking just like i asked. now im gonna fuck you, im gonna fill you up, and you're gonna go back into the practice room and not let a single drop go to waste, okay?", he asked as he pressed his cock against your folds, having moved your panties out of the way, "want a verbal answer this time, brat."

"yes, kwannie ..."

and then came the harshest fucking of your life.

he felt no remorse nor care for your cunt, hammering into it with all the strength and frustration he had been feeling all throughout dance practice for the past few hours.

"you know, im so fucking nice to you. i, fuck, i give you everything. i take care of you," he paused to readjust himself a bit, "i make love to you every day. i bring you to see the world with me, but that's not enough? huh? need me to be mean to you?"

"k– kwannie!", he kept rutting his hips against yours with the most force you'd ever felt for him, making the filthiest sounds as his hips slammed against your ass and your juices mixed.

"should i have been mean to you all this time, baby? should i have thrown away all the gifts and flowers and used you like a toy?", you couldnt see him, but you knew he mustve had that angry look in his eye that you'd been thirsting after just moments ago.

his hand snuck under your panties, digging his finger in to play with your clit roughly and carelessly.

you knew your end was arriving embarrassingly fast, you just hoped that maybe this was affecting him as much as it did you.

"cum, fuck ... cum for me, beatiful," he sighed, starting to slouch against you. even when he was being mean he couldnt help in being nice to you.

you covered your mouth with your hand as you came, muffling your scream at the sudden increase in speed from your boyfriend's thrusts, who was just entering his high along with you.

it took the both of you a few moments to catch your breaths and calm down. you winced the moment he removed himself from you and pulled up your pants again without giving a care for the juices he had just released into you.

despite your limp extremities, you managed to turn around and face your spent boyfriend. his face was flushed and his hair was sticking to his skin. he still had that furrow in his eyebrow and his breath was heavy. it was reminiscent of the look that got you into this situation in the first place.

"was that too mean?", he chuckled shyly, now caressing your cheek with his hand.

"no, kwannie. that was perfect. thank you," you turned your face to give a sweet peck to his palm.

"so, want me to be mean from now on?"

"no, i love sweet kwannie just fine. just .... maybe every once in a while?"

he scoffed, "oh, absolutely. i think i needed that."

[nsfwjjkwritings]

HIHI do u write nsfw for jjk girls? If so you should write f!reader for shoko and yuki I love my girls as you can probably tell by my username LOL

HELLO I AM SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS I HAVE BEEN SO BUSY BUT YES I WRITE FOR THEM AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY READING THIS ILY AND THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING <3

-

Yuki

• Yuki is extremely vocal in bed. She’s constantly asking you questions and talking as if you’re actually able to form words and you’re not just a blubbering mess underneath her touch. “How does that feel pretty girl?” “Is this what you want?” “You look so gorgeous when you’re cumming.” “Look at me.” “Give me one more, I know you can.” She’s also a fan of talking you through your orgasms, gasping in delight every time you come undone on her fingers.

• Though she swears she doesn’t have a preference when it comes to tits or ass, Yuki is a total sucker for tits. She loves pressing them together and fucking them with a strap-on, and her hands always find their way to knead and grope your breasts instead of your backside when she’s eating you out. Sometimes she can get carried away and squeeze them just a bit too harshly, but she’ll soften her touch when she hears you suck in a breath of pain. “I’m sorry, pretty. They’re just so perfect.”

• Due to how long sex with Yuki lasts, she’s not the best with aftercare. More often than not, she immediately rolls over and falls asleep afterwards, not even bothering to put any clothing back on before the sound of her soft snoring fills the room. She always makes up for her lack of aftercare the morning, though. She’ll bring you breakfast in bed, and pepper you with kisses while she apologizes over and over about falling asleep too soon.

-

Shoko

• Shoko is a switch with a slightly proclivity towards being a bottom, just because she’s so tired from working all the time. She doesn’t enjoy fucking so much as she enjoys making love. Being a doctor and dealing with so much death makes her crave closeness and intimacy, and she doesn’t like to treated roughly in bed. Touch her lightly with a slight squeeze here and she will melt into you. Moan against her while you’re between her legs and tell her how good she tastes if you want to see her blush.

• Don’t ever ask Shoko to roleplay being a doctor in bed. She likes to keep her work and home life entirely seperate. No one wants to feel like they’re at work when they’re having sex with their partner. She’s up for other ideas of roleplay, but the doctor/patient or doctor/nurse depiction is not in the cards with her. Teacher/student is another one she’s not a big fan of, but she’ll at least try it out if it’s something you really want to explore.

• When Shoko does top, it’s an entirely different experience than you’ve had with any past partners. Being a doctor means she knows the anatomy of the human body inside and out, giving her an almost unfair advantage when it comes to sex. She’s well aware that some of most sensitive parts of the body is the lips and the back of the knees, and she’s an expert at utilizing that knowledge. Your clit is also never not being rubbed or touched in some way when she’s fucking you. But she knows you can only take so much before you can become too sensitive, and she’ll monitor your facial expressions when she feels you’re close to crossing the line from pleasure into pain.

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

HI OKAY SO IM THINKING LIKE VOX X READER AND VOX OWNS READERS SOUL AND THEN HE GETS JEALOUS OR ANGRY ABOUT SOMETHING SO LIKE WE RECREATE THAT SCENE WITH HUSK AND ALASTOR WHEN ALASTOR HAS HUSK ON A CHAIN BUT INSTEAD OF ALASTOR ITS VOX AND INSTEAD OF HUSK ITS READER IF U KNOW WHAT I MEANN TYYY

Guess who's baaaaaaaaack~

Lock and Key [Vox x Reader] - Part 1

It had been weeks. Three fucking weeks. Three weeks since the Radio Demon tuned back into the spotlight of Hell. Three weeks since Vox had been anything more than a vengeful shell of himself fueled by broken memories and spite. Three weeks since he'd so much as looked your way. You walk into his surveillance room, smiling softly at the sharks swimming in the inky depths far below the path. They'd made you a bit paranoid at first, but you've come to grow fond of the cyborg creatures. Your smile dims as you look up at the silhouette of Vox crouched over his dashboard, his eyes flickering as he obsessively drums his claws against sleek metal.

It had been ages since he'd even acknowledged your presence, let alone addressed you directly. His attention had been entirely consumed by his revenge fantasies and bitter recollections of the past.

“Vox, you should take a break,” you sigh, putting a hand on his shoulder as you try to get enough of his attention to at least warrant a glance. Vox's fingers pause in their drumming as he looks up at you, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face as he shrugs your hand off him.

"I don't need a break," He mutters, his tone as sharp as his clawed fingers. "I need Alastor dead."

His eyes are fixed on one of the screens displaying Alastor's image. He's been obsessively watching his every move ever since the Radio Demon's return. "Besides," he adds, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "Why would I listen to you? I didn’t take you on as a babysitter.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath as your worries are confirmed. Ever since his descent into obsession, he'd become sharp-tongued. He was always like that with the Vee's or his assistant Reef. But not you. Never you. Not until Alastor appeared.

"Vox, it's been weeks. I can watch the monitors for you if you're that worried about missing something. Just sleep. Eat. Go for a walk. Something," you plead. As you speak, Vox's jaw twitches slightly, his gaze flickering over the cameras trained on the hotel and Cannibal Town. "You don't understand, do you? This isn't a game." He taps a clawed finger against the screen, frustration growing in his voice. "You have no idea what this fucker is capable of. He's got something planned with that Morningstar bitch. I just know it.”

He turns away from the screen to fix a cold glare on you.

"And I don't need you to tell me how to handle MY business." You look to the side with a hurt frown, no longer bothering to hide the way his sharp tone makes you flinch. You'd fallen for him and there were times you wondered, hoped that he felt the same. But before you'd ever been able to find out, Alastor returned, destroying any hope you had left being crushed in the process.

"The other Vee's still need you Vox. The company still needs you."

I still need you.

Left unspoken. Because you didn't have the right to say it. You were a lowly employee he had taken an interest in and swept out from under Velvette with a deal after he grew fond of you. He kept you by his side like some sort of pet. You didn't have to work. In exchange for your soul, your only purpose was to stay by his side. 

As you bring up the subject of the company and the Vee's, a flicker of something almost akin to regret crosses his face. He knows that his current state is taking a toll on his work life.

But he shoves it down with a sneer of irritation.

"The others can manage without me for a while," he says dismissively. "And the company practically runs itself anyway. I've got everything under control."

He glances at you again, his gaze lingering on your hurt expression. Despite his efforts to push you away, a pang of guilt shoots through him. However, it's gone the second he thinks he hears a sound from one of the drones watching the hotel. His head whips around and he curses as he reviews the missed footage. The drone footage shows nothing but mundane scenes of the hotel, with no sign of Alastor or any suspicious activity. This only fuels Vox's irritation, and he slams his fist on the dash in frustration.

"Damn it!" He hisses, his gaze darkening. "I knew I shouldn't have let my guard down."

He stands up abruptly, turning to look at you with an accusatory glare.

"Out. Now." Your eyes widen and you hold up a hand as you try to calm him. "Wait. Just hang on a second, there wasn't even anything on the-" "I don't care," he snaps, interrupting you mid-sentence as his eye flares. "I told you, I can't afford to have any distractions. And you, with your endless nagging, are the biggest one of them all."

He steps closer, towering over you and giving an icy glare that cuts off any further protests.

"I said OUT. Now." You're teleported out of his lair and fall on your ass in the shared penthouse lobby of the Vee's upstairs. Valentino blinks, looking mildly surprised from where he lounges on the couch. Val watches curiously as you stumble, a sly smile spreading across his face. He rises from his place on the couch, slinking closer to you with a lazy grace.

"Looks like Voxy is getting a little bit cranky again, hm?" he teases, his voice low and sultry. "What'd you do to get on his bad side this time, darling?" "I had the audacity to suggest he take a break," you laugh dryly as you flop into the chair beside the couch. Val chuckles, settling back into the couch and taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Big mistake there," he muses. "Vox gets prickly as hell when he's on edge, and right now, he's on edge 24/7. Ever since that damn Alastor got back."

He gives you an appraising look.

"Though I gotta say, you do seem to have him in a bit of a twist."

A small chuckle would leave Valentino’s lips upon hearing that as he reached over and patted your head a few times.

“I just wish he’d get Alastor’s cane out of his ass,” you groan as you drag a hand down your face. “He’s a fucking mess.”

“Oh, you sweet summer bitch. This is nothing compared to how he was when the Radio Demon first fucked off,” He remarked as he picked up his bottle again, taking a swig of his vodka.

"He wouldn’t eat, go to work… Wouldn’t even leave that stupid bunker he made for himself back in the day. All the dude did was obsess over Alastor. I nearly ditched his ass, but then his obsession took a new turn. Being better than the old prick. Now we have the Vee's."

Valentino’s eyes softened with a distant look as he spoke. It was the most contemplative you’d seen him. But it’s gone as he takes another swig of his bottle.

"So... what? Just wait it out?" you ask as you take in his experiences, opting not to comment that instead of breakfast, Valentino was nursing Vodka like it was his morning coffee.

Valentino chuckled. “Pretty much. He’ll either run himself into the ground or eventually snap himself out of it. He won’t bend for you. He wouldn’t bend for me. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for me… Doesn’t have to be for you, either,” He said as he frowned at his empty bottle before tossing it to the side.

“If anything, consider it as time off. Let loose. Make the most of it,” he shrugs as he snaps and Kitty brings him a new bottle. 

“If he's not giving you dick then go get some fucking dick. I can't remember the last time I saw you anywhere but at his heel."

You sigh as you lean back and consider it. You and Vox weren't exclusive... Even if you wish you were. Sure, there were the occasional moments of something more. Something real. But he's Vox. And you're... just you.

Ultimately, there's no reason for you to be so devoted to a man who probably sleeps around just as much as Valentino. Especially when he obviously cared so little for you now.

Valentino watched as the gears in your head seemed to turn, a small smirk making it’s way across his face as he watched you. He didn’t need to ask what you were thinking. He knew exactly what was going on inside that pretty little head of yours.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” He teased, the smirk on his face only growing.

"Not with you, if that's what you're hoping," you say as you stick out your tongue at him.

A small chuckle left Valentino’s lips upon hearing that as he shook his head.

“You know me so well~” He remarked before pausing for a moment, resting his head on his hand as he continued to watch you. “But seriously, do it. It’ll do you some good. Want me to set you up with one of my whores?"

"Maybe nothing that direct," you wince. It wasn't that you hated the idea. You preferred things to happen in the moment, rather than schedule getting bent in half. "Got any club recommendations, though?" -----

And that's how you found yourself in a loud club, sitting at the bar and regretting the life choice of listening to Valentino of all people. The club was loud, your skirt kept riding up your thigh, and the drinks were overpriced as fuck. This had sounded like a fun idea at the time, but now you remembered why you never really did this.

You're just about to call it a night when a sinner comes up next to you and waves down the bartender.

"Two shots for me and the pretty lady who looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here," he says before grinning at you with a wink.

You hadn’t even noticed this man’s approach to the bar, let alone that he was now sitting beside you as he called over the bartender.

As you listened to him order two shots for the two of you, your eyes rolled a little as you found yourself internally groaning at the prospect of needing to talk to someone new. You’d much rather be sulking at home, staring at the wall as you waited for your boss to finish up with his obsession. Yet, here you were.

"That obvious?" You chuckle sheepishly as the bartender puts two shot glasses down and pours a glowing blue liquid into them.

He chuckled alongside you as he watched the bartender pour the shots before turning to you, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Pretty obvious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so unhappy in a club before and trust me, that's saying something." He commented with a wink as he picked up one of the shot glasses, offering it to you.

You hesitate for a moment before taking the shot glass with a small smile and a nod.

You both chuck back the drinks, though the stranger does it with far more ease than you. You cough and sputter as you feel an icy hot feeling rush through your chest as you put down the glass. "Oh, wow. That's..." you laugh as you try to adjust to the feeling and hit your chest.

The stranger chuckled as he watched you struggle to handle the shot, clearly amused by your reaction to the drink.

"That's a strong drink, sweetheart," he remarked. "First time in a club? You seem a little out of your element."

"Just a bit," you chuckle before sighing and turning to lean on the bar and watch all the people on the dance floor.

"An... acquaintance suggested I come here and try to get laid to get over this dick I've been pining over,” you hum. “He's too busy obsessing over someone from his past. Plus, he's my boss. Unrequited doesn't even begin to cover it."

The stranger chuckled once more as he listened, his eyes roaming over your form for a moment before resting his head in his hand on the bar. He took a moment as he watched you before speaking up again.

"Let me guess. You're the secretary to some important and well-known Overlord and you're a little too fixated on him, huh?"

Your eyes widen before you throw your head back with a groan. "Oh my god, Valentino sent you, didn't he?"

The stranger laughed as he watched your eyes widen and your head fall back in frustration, clearly entertained by your reaction.

"He didn't 'send' me, per se. He just mentioned how miserable you've been lately and how he suggested you come here and get lucky."

He paused for a moment, his eyes raking over your form once more. "Although, I can definitely see why he'd want you to get laid."

You sigh and open your mouth to reply when your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket. You hold up a finger, asking for a moment as you pull out your phone and see who texted you.

There's a single message from Velvette that reads, "You owe me for this."

You quirk a confused brow at the lack of context, shaking your head and pocketing your phone before turning to face Valentino's employee again.

"Tell you what," you hum. "Two more of those shots, and I'm yours."

His grin widens. "Now that's something I like to hear," he remarked as he leaned in a little closer to you as he motioned over the bartender again.

"Two more shots of the good stuff. And make them both a double."

Everything becomes a blur after downing the alcohol. Hands on your body, lights flashing, music pounding in your ears as he grinds against you on the dance floor.

It's supposed to feel good. In a way, it does. But as you close your eyes, you can't help but find yourself wishing the soft fingers brushing over your skin were cool metal claws. That the sweeter smelling cologne was the sharper scent of your boss's. That it was him instead of a stranger.

The stranger's hands continued to roam your body as his lips found their way to your neck, littering your skin with kisses and small nips with his teeth. His hands grabbed your hips firmly, pulling you closer to him as he ground against you.

As you closed your eyes, your mind was filled with thoughts and memories of your boss. The way his claws felt against your skin, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the way he looked at you like you were a rare piece of art. It was a stark contrast to the current situation.

Is this really supposed to make you feel better? If so, why does your stomach feel like it's tangled in a knot? Why do you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes despite the heat pooling in your core?

Despite the pleasure you were feeling from the stranger's touch, you couldn't shake off the feeling of emptiness and disappointment. Every moment that passed felt more and more wrong. It all served as a cruel reminder that the person you truly wanted wasn't the one touching you.

Your stomach was in knots, and tears were threatening to fall as the stranger's lips trailed along your neck, leaving small marks in their wake. You clenched your fists as you fought the urge to push him away and run out of the club.

And then suddenly a hand grabs your wrist and yanks you to the side. Your eyes widen as you drunkenly stumble into arms that only take a moment for you to register as familiar. 

The stranger's eyes widen in surprise as Vox suddenly grabs your wrist and pulls you roughly towards him, his claws digging into your skin leaving small impressions in their wake. His glare towards the sinner who had just been feeling you up was sharp and deadly, his eyes fixated on the man as he held you tightly against his chest.

"Your services are no longer required. Beat it." He growled, his voice low and filled with anger.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest as you found yourself pressed against Vox's chest, the feel of his claws still digging into your skin. He held you tightly, possessively almost.

Before the sinner can reply, you and Vox suddenly disappear with a flash of cyan light. He takes you back to his office in the Vee's tower and you're only given a small moment to reorient yourself from the electric buzz in your veins.

"You," Vox's voice broke the silence, his tone filled with a mixture of anger and something else you couldn't quite place. His claws dug harshly into your arms as he forced you to look up at him.

"Ẃ̴̡ĥ̵͚a̸̗̎t̷͕͌.̶̻̐ ̶̰̃W̸̹̅e̴̡̅r̸̬͝e̷͎͘.̶̤̎ ̴̻͠Y̴͎̋ō̵͎ủ̸̯.̷̬̈́ ̷̬̾T̸̛͍ḧ̸͉́i̴̭̅n̸̞̆k̷̡͐i̶̦͝n̷͉͐g̸̱͝?̴͚͋"

Later on, you'd blame your bold honesty on the alcohol. But in the moment, there wasn't any rational thought or self-preservation left in your mind as you frowned and pulled his hand off of you despite how much you had been craving his touch.

"What does it matter to you? Shouldn't you be in your little stalking cave trying to watch the Radio Demon? It's all you ever do anymore."

Vox's eyes widened slightly in surprise as you pulled his hand away from you, his expression hardening at your words. The tone in your voice was bitter and laced with anger. But he didn't miss the underlying note of hurt underneath.

"So you go and throw yourself at a stranger instead? How is that better?" He shot back, his tone sharp and laced with irritation.

"Maybe it is!" you lie as you throw your hands up. "At least that guy looked at me. It was one thing when you would blow me off for Valentino. That was something I already knew I was getting into when whatever this started," you say as you gesture between the two of you.

"But you never so much as mentioned Alastor. The guy reappears and suddenly he's all you care about," you huff as the tension builds. "If you can't be damned to so much as look my way, then it isn't your business if I find someone else to fuck me, now is it?"

Vox's eyes darkened at your words, his jaw clenching as he took in your words. He could feel the tension between you growing, the air in the room thick with anger and hurt.

"Oh, is that what this is about? You're jealous because I've been focused on Alastor?" He questioned, his voice low and sharp. "Did it ever occur to you that this is important to me? That there's a reason I've been so preoccupied?"

"Of course it did!" you snap. "You think this is just about sex? I tried to be there for you! I tried to ask! I tried to understand! Tried to pull you away from your obsession long enough to at least sleep! But it was like I was invisible."

You pinch your brow, trying to keep yourself from crying angry tears. You didn't want to look weak. "Look. I got the message. Okay? Valentino and Alastor. You clearly have priorities and as your little fucking pet or whatever, far be it for me to get in the way of that."

You turn on your heel to walk away and to your credit, you make it a few steps before the air charges with electricity. Your breath catches in your throat as a collar made of his signature cyan plasma materializes around your neck, linked to a chain that suddenly goes taught as he pulls.

You yelp as you're spun around and forced to the ground, just barely catching yourself with your hands as he seethes above you.

He had almost felt guilty. The burning in his chest told him that he still did. But then you tried to walk away from him and he found himself unable to let you leave. As soon as you turned, something in him born of all the exhaustion and frustration of the past month made him snap. He yanked at the chain, his eyes focused and intense as he glared down at you.

"You're not going anywhere," he growled, his voice filled with a mix of anger, frustration, and something else. His hand gripped the chain tightly as he pulled you closer, forcing you to stay on the ground at his feet.

"You don't get to just walk away like that. Not after all this. I own you. He pulls on the chain, looping the excess length around his hand. “If I say you're not fucking around with other lowlifes then you're not. If I say you will sit at my heel every day for the next week to make up for this insolence, then you fucking ŵ̶͔i̵͕͛l̵̖̓l̸̩͠.̴̙̋ You whimper as he yanks harder, making you choke and stumble forward.

He continues with a feral edge to his grin as he pays you no sympathy. “Because you're mine, damn it. You don't get to vanish on me. You don't get to leave me for a dumb w̸̩̍h̵͔̕o̷̡̓r̸͍̃ȅ̷̹," he grits his teeth as he pulls the chain taught. Memories of Alastor and Valentino race through his mind. He wouldn't be second place to someone else. Not again.

"I won't allow you the luxury,” he says with a quiver in his voice as his screen dims temporarily.

He shakes his head, the light returning to his face as his grip tightens. "You're not going anywhere," he growled, his voice filled with a mix of anger, frustration, and something else.

The anger in his voice and his rough treatment of the chain around your neck surprised even him. He was possessive, that's no secret, but he had never acted like this before. The idea of you slipping away and finding comfort in someone else's arms made his blood boil.

His hand gripped the chain tightly, forcing you to look up at him as he stood over you. His eyes were intense, one spiraling with his unbridled emotions.

You instinctively crawl forward as he tugs on the electric shackles, wrapping the length of it around his other hand in a way that really shouldn't be doing things to you the way it is.

He leans down and takes your chin over his claw. "Even if my attention is pulled away temporarily, that doesn't change our contract,” he hums with an almost bored expression as he tilts your face this way and that before tightening his grip. “You're mine,” he growls as he lifts you off of your knees by your face. He ignores your yelp of pain, opting to revel in the blood blossoming across your jawline. “If I say you're to stay by my side, then you stay by my side. That is your only purpose and you'll fulfill it. Do you understand?" He hissed, his voice low and filled with two opposing fires of frustration burning away at the core of his very being.

"I tried to be by your side, but-" A scream cuts off your protests as the chain sparks to life and shocks your entire body. Your head drops down as you pant heavily, squeezing your eyes shut tight as stars dance across your vision.

Vox's eyes darken further as you try to protest again. His irritation only increases as he remembers the scolding he got from Velvette. She was the one who told him about Valentino’s plan to send you to a club to meet one of his employees. Valentino had been waiting for a way to get back at Vox for something else and he’d found it. 

It took Velvette’s lack of tolerance for his shit to finally snap him out of the dickish headspace he’d been in. She sat him down and forced him to watch the footage of his behavior the last week and to look at the business’s declining numbers. He knew he had been short with you, but he didn’t realize for how long he’d neglected and snapped at you.

He never did know how to deal with the feeling of guilt.

Without warning, he gives the chain a sharp yank, causing the chain to spark to life, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your head drops down and your eyes squeeze shut as you cry out in surprise.

"I don't want excuses. I want you to o̵b̶e̷y̶,” He growls, pushing down the squirming shame in the depths of his synthetic chest. “You do what I say, when I say it. You will not go behind my back and do whatever the hell you want."

A grin worthy of a showman like himself spreads on his screen, displaying the nature of his rage as he uses the tip of his boot to lift your chin. "Now. Let's try that again."

to be continued...

[judespoets]

hii could u pls write an imagine with trent x bellingham sister reader where reader is an f1 driver and gets into a crash and her brothers and trent get worried and when she gets home trent looks after her <3

crash | trent alexander-arnold

pairing: taa x fem!f1!reader

warnings: mentions of crashing, hospitalization, wounds/blood

category: fluff/angst

a/n: i don’t know anything abt f1 so sorry if i did something wrong, also didn’t proofread yet maybe i will soon lol

it was a big day, maybe even the biggest one in your entire career. this race today is the opportunity to become someone great.

it was the day of your race today, and trent and your two brothers jude and jobe were all watching you for your big day.

Saying you were nervous was an understatement. You knew you earned your way here but actually being here with all the famous faces, it was just different.

As you stood on the starting line, you felt confident. You practiced a lot with your team for this and you were confident going into this race. But besides all, you were nervous. You really didn’t want to disappoint your boyfriend, trent was a real f1 fan and him watching you here was such an honor, you didn’t want him to judge you.

The first part of the race went good. Everything went smooth and you were living up to your and your teams expectations until you blinked for a second too long and in no time you accidentally left the road and your car flipped. Everything went so fast you couldn’t even comprehend what happened until you were feeling hot and tried to leave the car as soon as possible.

And you did it. But as you stood on the road, the adrenaline inside of you immediately vanished and you quickly felt your chest tighten, your breathing getting shorter and your legs giving out and everything went black.

The next thing you know is waking up in a bright, white room, monitors beeping in your ear with a loud sound, making you flinch immediately.

“Baby, oh my god.” You heard a voice from your left, scaring you slightly.

Looking to your left, you made out a face you knew all too well, a very worried Trent was all you saw.

He hurriedly stepped over to you from the chair he was sitting in, looking down at you with a very tired pair of eyes.

“Baby? How are you feeling?” He asked you, stroking you cheek with his hand softly.

“What? What is happening?” You asked him, obviously very confused about this whole situation.

“You had an accident, my love. A pretty bad one, i’m so glad you’re awake oh my god. You scared me, sweetheart.”

“I think I’m okay. What’s happened?”

“You came off the road and the car flipped. You got out luckily. But you fainted right after.” Trent spoke softly. “The doctor told me to get him right after you wake up. I’ll be right back, my love.” He said, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

And he was right. It took him like two seconds to come back with a doctor, taking his place next to you again.

“Miss Bellingham, great to see you awake again. To calm you down a little bit, you didn’t get any major injuries even though the crash was pretty bad. You suffered a whiplash and a fracture to your right wrist which will take about six weeks to heal with your cast. The whiplash can have different effects on you, it’s common to feel it in your neck and head while also suffering from nausea and dizziness. If we treat it right and you rest enough, you won’t take any long-term consequences from it. I know this will be a hard pill to swallow but concerning your Formula 1 career, it will take at least two to three months for you to be starting training again. It will take a lot of time and patience, but you will be back, that’s actually a privilege for your situation right now.”

“Wow” was all you could say right now. The news were extremely hard for you to comprehend right now, and Trent noticed that.

“Thank you, sir. We will definitely rest enough.” You heard your boyfriend say while you just stared at the wall right ahead of you.

“We will talk about all the treatments later on, for now just rest a little more.” The doctor said before walking out of the door again.

The sound of the door closing and the feeling of the familiar hand touching yours was the trigger point. The tears started to flow out of your eyes uncontrollably making you a sobbing mess. You didn’t know what to feel, everything just felt overwhelming right now.

Just a few hours ago you were excited to start the first major race of your life and now you were lying on this hospital bed not knowing how and when your career will start again.

“Baby, please don’t cry. I know it hard to understand right now, but you had so much luck. You could’ve been dead.” Trent said to you, his voice also slightly cracking while he took you into his arms.

“I don’t know what’s happening, Trent.” You admitted.

“I know, it’s okay. We’ll get you home as soon as possible and then you will rest and you will be back in no time and even stronger, baby. I know it’s a major setback but this can make you so much stronger. I’ll be with you every step of the way, trust me, my love.”

And he was right. You were back home after three days of hospitalization.

Walking through the front door of your shared home, all you wanted to do was lay down on the couch after a long car ride with Trent. You were so glad it was summer right now and Trent didn’t need to be back in training for at least three weeks.

“Come on, lay down, baby.” Trent said while guiding you to the living room, propping the pillows up to make you comfortable. “Is it okay like this?” He made sure.

“Yeah it’s fine. Thank you.” You said to him, laying your head back feeling the exhaustion kick in immediately. You closed your eyes as you took a deep breath through your nose.

“I’ll bring you some water, babe. Jude and Jobe will also come in like an hour to spend a little time here.”

“Thanks, babe.” You told him as he handed you a cup full of fresh water.

“Do you need anything else? Some food maybe?” Trent asked you quietly as he noticed your scrunched up face showing your headache.

“No i’m good for now. I think i just need to sleep, i feel the nausea and the headache kick in, to be honest.” You answered him honestly.

“Okay, I’ll leave then.” Trent said as he got up and started to leave the room.

“Babe!” You called out as loud as you could right now.

“What’s up?” He said, turning around quickly.

“Can you please stay, i need you right now.” You admitted quietly, you were possibly feeling the worst you’ve ever felt in a long time and all you wanted was for your boyfriend to make it okay again.

“Yeah, of course. Come here.” You heard a voice whisper in your ear quietly as you felt the strong arms you knew all too well wrap around your fragile and exhausted body and a kiss being pressed to your forehead.

And that was what made the pain go away for some time.

And the next few weeks weren’t any different. You fought with nausea and headaches a lot but Trent and your brothers were there to help you. They made it all seem so much less painful and miserable, you were fast recovered and ready to go back to training to come back even stronger than you felt before.

[simp4konig]

König mistakenly shoots you on the battlefield

König x Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: ~4500

*SLOW burn but when my writing finally has that spark this fic catches FIRE and FAST so be prepared!! 🔥🔥

*⚠️Angst Angst! ANGST!⚠️

*THABK YOU SO SO SO MUCH TO AZZY MY NO.1 FAN FOR THIS AMAZING IDEA!!!! 🥰🥰🥰I LOVE *YOU* VERY MUCH!! 🥹🫶🫶💞💞💞💞 💞💞💞💞💞THANK UVFOR ALWAUS LIKING MYNPOSTS AND BEING SO KIND TO ME YOU MAKE EBERY HOIR SPENT WRITING WORTH IT AS I AM ALWAYS EAGER FOR YOUR MESSAGES😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓I AM *YOUR* NO.1 APPRECIATOR IN ALL RHE GALAXIES🌌🚀✨🌠QNDVWISH U ALL THE BEST ALWAYS!!!!!!🫂🫂💗💗 THIS ENTJRE POST IS DEDICATED TO YOU !!! 🥹(,,havinf said that, i hope u arent TOO taken aback bu tje level of angst here 💀💀REALLT went overboard and I completely apologize 💔)

TWs: König is in love with you. König's sanity slowly deteriorates as the fanfiction progresses. Mentions of attempted suicide, graphic depictions of gore, potentially triggering depictions of depression. König has suicidal thoughts after shooting you. König experiences intense trauma after shooting you and has survivor's guilt.

*Reader's callsign is "King". Implied age gap. One-sided pining from König... but the ending is purposefully kept ambigous (as you, the reader, can interpret the final interaction however you like)! Can be read as a standalone if you have never read any of my works before. <3

*To clarify to those that have already read my works before, this is *NOT* a direct continuation to 1.my fluffy 2.series! This is a separate imagine, but DOES take place in the same KönigxKing microchosm. Whether the following events take place in an alternate timeline or happen at some point in the future/past is for you to decide. Idk man i just write the fics I don't do the world buidling 🗿I write sotires without thingign about the greater picture u honestly think my one shots will tie to a greater plot?☹️No 💔

...

Right from the beginning, König had a gut feeling that this mission was going to go wrong.

It was a deep sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach, making him feel queasy on the helicopter ride as the both of you with an additional three others were scheduled for contact in a few minutes' time.

You were just a recruit, and this mission was far too intense for someone with next to no experience in an active warzone for it to be their first. He knew the dangers of missions like this, knew how things could go horribly wrong in an instant.

It wasn't that he doubted your ability. Not at all. From the corner of the room he would silently supervise as you sparred another person, monitoring your movements incase your opponent had the upperhand and you needed guidance.

However, he had never needed to intervene, as he was impressed with your quick reactions and your controlled steps as you'd move on the balls of your feet, arms held up in front of your face. Ambition was in your eyes, your face scrunched up in concentration as you calculated your next move.

You'd defend yourself up until the moment you'd pounce and in a blink of an eye be on top of your opponent, your entire weight pressed on their theirs on the ground. Whether it was another woman, another man, or even a person with bigger bulk you were clearly disadvantaged by, you'd never give up, and took on any challenge with an impressionable passion of a young recruit.

Once they'd be the one to tap out, you'd immediately push yourself off them and offer them a hand, asking them "Are you alright?" in a concerned tone as you were pulling them up. "Sorry for getting aggressive there, sir/miss! I hope I didn't hurt you!"

To which they'd respond with boisterous laughter and a strong clap on your back, you doubled over as they were congratulating you for knocking them off their two feet and telling you to keep up the good work. König couldn't wipe the triumphant smile from his face, filled with pride at your personal victory.

Once you'd be the one to tap out, you'd part ways honourably, never disrespecting the person that came out on top. If anything, your loss only added fuel to the fire burning in your eyes, driven to work harder. He still admired you, and would be the one to pull you up as he dusted you off, telling you that you did a great job regardless.

"Thank you, sir!" You'd reply bashfully, face red from effort and embarassment. "Though, I'm sure I made a fool of myself with how I was flailing my arms just then..."

"Nein. Not at all," he'd say, eyes glinting with something that you couldn't quite recognize. "You did very well."

Target practice displayed your accurate aim, wool seeping out from the heads of dummies and the targets regularly replaced as the wood would cling in pieces, the center blasted into smithereens by repeated bullseyes from you.

Always lingering nearby to assist, you would gratefully accept König's help and allow him to demonstrate how to operate another gun with an appreciative smile on your face, your genuine eagerness to learn making König's chest tighten. You seemingly never knew the effect you had on him.

You were a naturally skilled soldier, he had observed, and he knew that you'd make an incredible addition to the team, he couldn't deny that.

Yet, he couldn't shake off this feeling as something more grave.

All personel debriefed and the plan disclosed a week prior, the superior went over the plan once more back at base. A large blueprint spilling over the table with weak spots and areas to beware were annotated, his forefinger pointing at different areas of interest. Sketches, photographs, and jottings were displayed from a projector for all to see as you listened closely.

König's jaws were grinding against each other in agitation, having doubts about you being deployed on this mission.

Despite this operation being portayed as an in and out extraction, König knew better. He knew what the stakes were. Intuition urged him to warn you, to confide in you about his doubts and even considered crossing your name off the list and assigning you elsewhere last minute without anyone knowing.

But the thought that he could be controlling you — a young, innocent recruit — and even considered doing something so foul didn't sit right with him.

You were your own person, and he couldn't be your shadow, couldn't act as a human shield against all that was cruel and gruesome in life. You had chosen this job, and therefore must have had at least some idea of what your responsibilities would entail, some knowledge of what soldiers go through in pursuit of glory.

Instead of being so pertubed, he should keep it together, he thought, should maintain a stoic façade. He was your superior — your colonel, for God's sake — he was someone you aspired to be, someone that should be an inspiration, a role model, someone that could have your back and be a reliable body to fall back on.

Not someone that couldn't keep it together when you around.

Especially when he shouldn't have been having feelings for you.

You, a young person vulnerable and easily influenced by people older than you, by the likes of him.

It wasn't right. He wasn't right for what he was feeling, for what he had been thinking. It wasn't right for his feelings to cloud his judgement, wasn't right that abusing his power had even crossed his mind, let alone been tempted to act upon it.

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. "König? Are you alright, sir?"

Turning his head to face you, he nodded with false certainty, containing his worry in an attempt to appear confident for you.

"Ja, King, it's okay. Just thinking, that's all."

You quirked a brow, not convinced. "Hey."

Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, a serious expression was on your face, which caught König off guard and made his eyes widen. "If you're thinking that I'm going to get myself killed then you've got another thing coming, because I will NOT get shot by the enemy."

His back slumped over a little, averting his gaze for a moment. "Nein, sie haben recht."

"Ich sollte nicht zulassen, dass meine Gefühle mein Urteilsvermögen trüben." König mumbled something else under his breath in German, then quickly shook his head and laughed, looking into your eyes again.

Tension in his body was eased a little. "No, you're right."

A little. Because he wasn't going to dismiss the thoughts gnawing at the back of his head as mere paranoia.

You perked up. "Good, glad we've got that cleared up, sir! I want you to know that I won't disappoint!"

His heart skipped a beat at your smile, so eager to please and make him proud, that he shuffled uncomfortably, trying to get the butterflies in his stomach to calm down. Now wasn't the time.

Idly fidgeting with his combat knife as the helicopter blades hummed above, he went back to thinking over all the possibilities and different ways this mission could go awry:

...What if these were the wrong coordinates, or the helicopter would be attacked the minute they landed? The thought of an ambush wasn't an irrational one — it had happened before, he reminded himself — so he had brought a few more weapon crates than necessary for safekeeping.

...What if the helicopter's signal was intercepted and everyone including the pilot were destined for a fatal crash? Counting the number of parachutes and noting the fire exit, he could rest a little easier if an emergency like that was to arise, yet it still did little to soothe his nerves.

...What if you really did get shot? In case that happened, he had alerted some operators beforehand to serve as re-enforcements, one of those on board including a skilled army medic, under the guise of needing more manpower in case things went south. After all, this extraction could not have go wrong. It shouldn't have gone wrong.

But... what if you died? König wouldn't know how to deal with the feelings associated with your death, knowing that he had loved you from afar yet never acted on it. At least he'd be able to keep his shameful secret a secret, and you'd pass away never knowing what he truly saw you as, truly thought of you.

He had little time to figure out what was causing the trepidation to stiffen his muscles as the helicopter suddenly swerved and lowered, landing kilometres away from the designated building yet on unstable ground nonetheless. Any moment soldiers could attack it if they had known the group's location, so the blades kept spinning and the engine kept running for an immediate getaway.

König assumed authority. "Everyone remember the plan?"

Four heads nodded in sync.

"Gut. Then you all know what to do. I will enter from the side with my Lieutenant—" he said, gesturing with his head at a masked operator beside you, "—while you three—" referring to you and two others you were only vaguely aquainted with, "—storm from the back. Ja?"

König's eyes stalled on you for a moment longer than necessary. You were going to be alright, he told himself. He'd keep you in his field of vision and could provide you with cover once you regrouped when you'd really need it.

"A quick extraction," he reminded, eyes stern yet heart disbelieving. "Simply go in, get the data, and go out."

A final nod of the head from König as he and his associate separated from your group. You headed towards the back of the building, fully alert, aiming behind corner incase there had been someone waiting to assassinate you.

Doors creaking as one of the men pushed, the three of you filtered in noiselessly, attempting to be as discreet as possible and wincing when the door slammed not so quietly. Guns cocked and silencers attached, you advanced in a line, blending in to the shadows.

As you walked, there were no signs of life, and the storehouse seemed abandoned. No machinery was being operate. No voices could be heard.

All was still and quiet.

Eerily quiet.

Feeling the hairs on your arms and neck stand on end, you shuddered. You made eye contact with one of the men in front of you who had more expertise, and he looked on edge, eyebrows creased in focus under his balaclava. None of this felt right.

Suddenly, something small rolled over towards you all. Blinking once, twice, you let out a panicked scream and dived for cover.

"Grenade!"

All hell broke loose.

Bullets ricocheted over your head, guns blasting from so many directions you couldn't pinpoint their source.

Slowly recovering from your momentary shock, you gripped your rifle tight and started shooting back, hidden behind a load of wooden crates. When you saw your hooded colonel crouching in a corner, you relaxed. With an encouraging nod from him, that was all you needed to go change positions, and you lunged forward. All was going smoothly at that point.

So engrossed in eliminating the threats in front of him, however, König only came to the realisation that you weren't there when he didn't see your figure in his peripheral vision.

Panic consumed his senses and circulated through his veins. All at once, he was frantically scanning the immediate area, searching for any trace of you.

You were thrashing and kicking as you were being pulled by rough hands, your fingers reaching for your holster through gritted teeth, yet it was just out of grasp. You were thrown harshly against the wall, and the enemy towered over you, feeling high from his power trip and excited to exert authority he had never had up to now.

Just as a knife made its way to your throat, your hand finally found your side arm and shot a bullet between his eyes, body falling on top of you like a sack of potatoes.

You convulsed involuntarily, hyperventilating under his weight and the sudden situation. Noting your surroundings, your heart sank.

You were in no man's land, full view of soldiers shooting at your team. The extraction point was just in sight, exactly how and where it was illustrated on the blueprint.

So far, no one had noticed you, too preoccupied aiming down their sights to see you shuffling under a corpse. You could enter those headquarters right now, could be proclaimed a hero of this story, and make your colonel proud and finish before schedule.

The risk was too big. You were bound to get shot.

Yet, against all better judgement, you dashed for the entrance, taking advantage of the element of surprise as three men turned towards you with wide eyes, not expecting to see you enter. Two were haphazardly shoving papers into a half-open folder thrown on the table.

Three shots fired before they could scramble for a gun, you rushed towards the desk. Scanning the material, your eyes widened in shock. This was it.

Now, your only choice was to crawl back into the line of fire. Soldiers still kept shooting with their backs turned, endless ammunition right at their disposal.

You were totally helpless on your own. Just one pair of wandering eyes from the enemy and just one shot in the back of the head would be all that would take to end your life at that moment and make all of your efforts go to waste.

Although an atheist, you mouthed a silent prayer, before taking a deep breath, and sprinted.

Seeing sudden movement headed towards him, König acted on instinct, and pulled the trigger on you.

His heart stopped.

Time slowed as your body fell in slow motion, more bullets piercing through your gear.

Realising his mistake immediately, he almost vomited his own stomach out at seeing you fall lifelessly on the ground, eyes wide and body dropping on impact.

"Scheisse, cover me, verdammt!" He yelled over his shoulder, all rational thought ceasing.

Breathing rapid and strained, he rushed towards you, gently wrapping his arms around your body — growing weaker by the minute — and headed straight for the first sign of cover he could see. Behind unstable and temporary refuge that could be blown to pieces, König was at a loss at what to do.

He had expected everything, evaluated every possible scenario, every possible outcome, even prepared a lifeline for you on the off-chance that you'd be injured in action.

Yet he hadn't anticipated that he would be the one to shoot you. Never.

Shaking violently, König could barely get any words out. "—S-schatz, please please please—"

Hesistant hands hovered over your wounds, conflicted, as blood was staining your uniform, wrenching König's heart. His mind kept repeating you did this. You did this. You did this.

You needed urgent aid, and you needed it right now, yet he didn't deserve to touch you, his hands clenched into fists as he didn't want to break you further, treating you like fragile glass that could shatter into pieces under his touch if he so held you.

He was the one that did this to you. You, the young recruit he was so hopelessly infatuated with, a person who he had cherished and loved from afar, the person who made him feel good things for the first time ever in his life.

He did this to you.

He was the monster in your closet, the threat that König had desperately attempted protect you from all this time, the threat that you were told to eliminate on this mission. The enemy.

The enemy that had mistakenly shot you.

"Es tut mir so leid, I'm so sorry—" König's mind couldn't function properly, speaking in broken mix of English and German. He couldn't gather his thoughts, couldn't think.

"—I'm so so so sorry. Please don't die, bitte vergib mir, forgive me, forgive me, schatz. Forgive me. Ich liebe dich, schatz, do you hear me? I love you."

Bullets whizzed past you both relentlessly, both of you still caught in crossfire. König's lips were moving yet you couldn't hear what he was saying to you, couldn't feel anything as you slowly lost consciousness, slowly closed your eyes.

A calloused hand tapped your face in desperation, your vision blurred.

"—Nein, nein, King! Stay awake! I'm calling for the re-enforcements now! Please, don't die on me— I'm so sorry..."

Shaky yelling through the walkie-talkie, voice cracking. "This is your colonel, König! We're retreating right now! One of ours is wounded! Send the re-enforcements right now to this location! I repeat, we are retreating! I am calling this mission off!"

"What? Are you crazy, König?!" A break in character from the commander, before immediately assuming professionalism once more. "Proceed with the mission! You are on the verge of breaking their defenses! You will enter their headquarters and be able to—"

"Nein. That was an order, commander," he hissed through gritted teeth, nearly crushing the device in his death-grip. "We are retreating. I am calling this mission off."

A pause. Then: "Copy that, colonel. We are sending your re-enforcements to cover you as you exit. Your helicopter is waiting. Hold out for thirty seconds longer."

Sighing with relief, he suddenly thought his heart stopped beating when he saw you laying there motionlessly, eyes closed. Desperately tapping at your cheek did nothing to awaken you. He prayed that you'd survive, willing time to go faster.

At last, loud whirring from above gave him the only comfort. Not waiting a second longer, König picked up your limp body and dashed outside, the helicopter lifting off as the rest of the crew threw themselves inside.

Opening your vest to inspect your wounds, he saw a blood-soakes folder secured tightly to your chest.

It was the data. You risked your life for the mission. You risked everything to accomplish the task and he had shot you anyways.

"—This is your colonel, König. We have the data. Mission accomplished, I repeat, mission accomplished. King has the data."

The radio crackled with an indistinguishable response, yet König heard nothing, blood rushing to his head and ringing persisting. Medics wasted no time to wheel you into an operating room, tearing your limp body away from his arms. He avoided the celebrations and cheers for their colonel, leaving everyone dumbfounded at his reaction. Shouldn't have he been proud? The mission was a success!

Yet the mission wasn't a success, and if anything, he felt shame. No one knew why their colonel holed himself up in his room aside from himself.

The news of you in critical condition in the hospital broke König.

As much as he wanted to see you, to check on your health and be the one to see your first signs of recovery, he couldn't. He couldn't bear to witness the colour drained from your face as you laid unmoving on the bed, the slow beeping from the heart rate monitor machine the only indication that you were alive.

He just couldn't. Not when he caused this. Not when he fucked up this much.

Using the gym as a coping mechanism for a while, he trained harder and more often than ever before, only wishing to make the pain go away. When he wasn't at the gym all throughout the day or at odd hours of the night, he'd toss and turn in his bed, having nightmares about your body bleeding out below him as the shot relentlessly echoed in his head. Or worse, he'd imagine himself shooting you again, only this time he'd find the barrel of his gun was aimed at your forehead execution-style, your unassuming face suddenly exploding into bloody pieces and what was left of your bewildered expression still remained even after he had pulled the trigger.

At those, König would spring upright, screaming "No!" in anguish.

He'd be panting heavily, bedsheets drenched in his own sweat and feeling like he was suffocating with each rise and fall of his chest. When the situation sunk in, he'd clench his fists so tightly his knuckles went white, shaken to his very core. On those nights, König wanted nothing more than to hurt himself, to compensate for the injury he inflicted upon you and how he had completely disgraced you.

At one point, when he had finally had enough, in his blind craze snatched the pistol laying by his bed, flicked the safety off and aimed it at the same place he had shot you, just to break down in despair when no bullet came out, the clip hidden in his bedside drawer.

Hand tightly squeezing his heart through his soaked t-shirt, he was repulsed by the fact that he was completely healthy and could walk freely while you lay injured and dying.

Under his watch, you had been injured. Under him, your body had crumpled. And it was his fault.

In emotional turmoil, he soon lost all ability to function. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and could hardly find the motivation to get out of bed most of the time, convinced that he had killed you, convinced that he was a monster. Responsibilities were kept on hold, the next best person taking his place. No one questioned the new arrangement, despite the shared confusion from everyone on base.

He couldn't take this. He couldn't take this any longer. He would have rather died, sacrificed himself in any way possible if it meant that you could live another day, as you could make a greater impact on the world than he ever could. Could be a better person than he ever could.

It was his fault. He shot you. He had shot you. He had shot the recruit that he had hopelessly fallen in love with, yet only he himself was to blame for it for his lack of control, for his inability to be unaffected by his feelings.

One day, a knock on his door pulled him out from his trance.

Prior to the interruption, König was staring at the cement wall, his eyes unfocused, completely still and barely breathing. He wasn't himself.

Immediately straightening his legs and nearly tearing a tendon from how fast he got up despite having been so inactive for the last few days, he stomped quickly towards the door, his face glum yet eyes glinting with the merest hint of hope.

Hand reaching for the handle, he had readied himself, expecting bad news coming from a surgeon wearing a medical mask and a blue uniform, a solemn expression as they devasted him with your passing.

All but the latter was true.

"Colonel König, sir. The patient is awake. You may now visit them if you so wish."

Blinking a couple of times, König thought he had heard incorrectly.

"...P...Pardon?"

Repeated were the words that König was shocked to hear.

"King is awake, sir. Their condition is a stable one. Our team thought to notify you first since you were on the mission with them."

Gasping, König could barely breathe. He felt like he was drowning, drowning despite his head breaking out from the water. "What... I... where?"

"Ground floor, room twelve. They're on medication as of this moment yet are fully awake."

König nearly fell to his knees. You were alive!

You were alive! He hadn't killed you! He thanked the Gods, and could barely keep composed, barely able to stop himself from dashing to the center of base and yelling into the sky in pure joy.

"I— thank you... so much."

Running faster than he had ever ran in his whole life, he was at your door in minutes.

Yet, as his fingers reached for the door knob, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, hand poised mid-air.

What if you didn't want to see him after the whole ordeal?

What if you resented him, and would spit in his face the moment he walked in?

What if you hated him, and wanted nothing to do with him ever again?

Hesistantly knocking twice, he nearly had a heart attack when your voice broke through the door:

"Come in," you called simply; your voice was hoarse, but it was clearly still you.

Taking a deep breath, König pushed the door open.

There you were. He was having heart palpitations at seeing you awake and looking at him.

The light coming through the open curtains made your skin glow despite how pale you were, eyes sparkling and crinkling in happiness despite the dark circles and heavy bags under your eyes, hair splayed out behind on your pillow, resembling a halo, despite how greasy it was.

He had missed you. So much.

Then his heart sunk as he reminded himself that he was the reason for why you were here, why you were in in this state to begin with.

Seeing König, You shot him a daring smirk despite how numb your face felt. "Hey, König, sir. Did you visit me at all? I'm sure you missed me."

Waiting in anticipation, you kept looking at him excitedly. At the lack of response and his refusal to meet your gaze, it faded completely. "—Wh—what? You—"

"Not— not even once? Not—"

Tears were welling up in your eyes. "—you didn't come see me even one time?"

Maybe you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up. Maybe you should have thought that König would not have time to spare in his busy schedule.

Yet you couldn't not get your hopes up when as soon as you woke, your first thought was of König. Although the grim reality hit you hard like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head, you still wished to see him.

And yet, he hadn't wished to see you at all. He had avoided you like the plague.

"Scheisse—"

König started pacing the room, head hung low as he weighed the pros and cons. Indecision.

"—Do you really... do you really want to know why I didn't visit you, King?"

You nodded meekly, lip quivering.

He finally made up his mind.

If you rejected him, at least he'd rest easier knowing that you'd live, and continue to be happy for you from afar. He'd still support you, still be your colonel, still love you even when you found someone else.

"I... I put you in this position, King... It was all my fault," he begun, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tone softed as he finally stopped, as still as a statue, a metre away. From this angle, you saw how bloodshot his eyes were, how they sagged in sadness, how dark circles had formed from lack of sleep. His pale blue eyes were dull, glued to the ground.

"Not only did I lose sight of you on the battlefield, I also shot you. Shot my own—" Pausing, not knowing how to refer to you.

He carried on. "I couldn't live with myself. I still can't live with myself. I'm walking, uninjured, as you are laying in bed, recovering from an injury that I am the reason for. From bullet wounds that were the result of me."

Voice hitching slightly, he tried to keep his breathing under control. But he couldn't.

"How could the monster that shot you enter your room and dare to look at you? How could I watch you cling to life, while I walk freely despite causing you this— this agony? What right do I have looking at you after putting you here?"

You allowed the tears to spill down your cheeks.

He stopped, eyelids drooping, finally meeting your eyes.

"I have feelings for you, King, I—" Trembling "—I do. But... I shouldn't be feeling this way. You have your whole life ahead of you and I—"

"—I've... aged... I'm not the same man I was before. I've witnessed things far too disturbing to ever share with you. I... I know that you should be with someone better and I—"

Although still in a daze and sedated by the drugs, your thought process was still clear enough where you could be sure about this.

Reaching with a tentative hand for König's larger and rougher one, you squeezed it weakly, looking up at him with a heartfelt expression.

König smiled for the first time in ages.

Through that gesture alone, König knew that you forgave him.

He allowed his breathing to stabilise, wanting nothing more than to start over with you.

...

Note: MY FAT FUCIIJF FINGERS SLIPPED AND I POSTED THIS EARLIER THANI WAS SUPPOSED TO OJ MY GOD I AM AN IDIOT 🤡🤡

Edit next day: how tmdid this fet 100+ notes im sobbing 😭😭. thabk you everyone for readijg this angst fest!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[ultrone]

all eyes on you !

jealous!perv!nat spies on u through the gym’s surveillance cameras and gets jealous of lottie ҂ smut with plot; stalking, masturbation, jealousy, clothed fingering, cum-filled strap-on use, angry fucking, dirty talking, creampie. . .﹙2.9k wc﹚

last month, natalie found herself in another serious predicament—her chronic tardiness had struck once again, with a tally of nine late arrivals in just a single month. the patience of her program's coordinator was wearing thin; nat's disregard for detentions had begun to frustrate her professors. her coordinator was on the verge of giving her an ultimatum: complete a minimum of 60 hours of community service before the semester came to a close.

however, the situation took an unexpected turn when the person responsible for monitoring the gym's security cameras during the third block suddenly quit without any explanation. coincidentally, natalie had a free block during that exact time slot. the coordinator saw this as a chance to teach her a lesson, as this particular block was when nat often hurriedly left campus before her lunchtime and returned late for her next class. it presented itself as the perfect chance for intervention. so, they offered her a deal: instead of getting in trouble, she could take over the job of the person who left, at least until they found a replacement.

at first, nat didn't like the idea. she thought it was dumb and a waste of time. plus, the fact that she wouldn't be getting paid for it bothered her. but she realized that if she got suspended, she was fucked, as it could ruin her scholarship. the only reason she got accepted into university was because she had a scholarship for playing soccer. so, she decided to agree to the deal and take on the job, even though she didn't want to.

however, her resentment and lack of interest in the job vanished the moment she took charge of the camera system during her first shift. a realization struck her: you were there. you happened to have gym class during that same block. the instant she caught sight of you through the camera feed, clad in that tank top and those notably short shorts, she promptly stowed away the sleeping bag and sleeping mask she had managed to sneak into her backpack. her focus shifted entirely to observing you.

the two of you were close. maybe not best-friend level, but definitely close enough to exchange texts almost every day and hang out pretty much every weekend. you’d probably be best friends if it wasn’t because of lottie, you’d be hers if it wasn’t because of fucking lottie. she seemed to always be around you, attending the same classes and sticking by your side during soccer practice. it felt as though natalie was receiving the leftover moments lottie didn't claim when she wasn't with you. yet, what irked her the most was  lottie’s obvious crush on you. the lingering gazes, the tender way she said your name, the subtle touches—they all fueled nat's frustration. the only thing keeping nat from beating the shit out of lottie was you; she dreaded the idea of you hating her.

today was like any other day. after finishing her second block class, nat proceeded to the security office located on the gym's second floor. positioned at the far end of the hallway, she quietly shut the door upon entering before settling into her chair. with a few clicks, she activated the surveillance cameras, and there you were—as beautiful as ever. by the moment you started stretching, nat was already unbuttoning her pants, slipping her hand inside almost instinctively. she was wearing a strap today, but didn’t feel like taking it off. instead, she maneuvered her hand beneath it and started touching herself. she observed the way you massaged your sore thighs from the previous day, the way you would bend down and display your ass to her, only her. her fingers started circling her clit faster and faster, and she started moaning out your name.

right when nat was about to reach climax, lottie unexpectedly entered the frame of the screen, giving you a warm hug. in no time, your hands yielded to lottie's as she took over the task of massaging your back. as her fingers skillfully worked to alleviate the tension in your shoulders, you tilted your head back, closing your eyes at the feeling. meanwhile, nat observed the scene with a puzzled expression on her face.

“fucking bitch,” she quietly muttered, withdrawing her hand from her pants and zipping them up, frustration and disbelief evident in her expression.

this event turned her off completely, so she directed her attention toward her phone, as she wasn’t even able to look at you right now or she would combust in anger. she got so immersed on her phone that she didn’t notice the coach pulling you aside and telling you something. it wasn’t until she looked back at the surveillance that she realized that you were gone. she checked every angle of the gym, every hallway, you were nowhere to be found—and neither was lottie. right when she was about to slam her phone against the floor, she heard a knock on the door, and then someone twisting the doorknob open.

“hey, nat!” you said enthusiastically. “how are you?” you asked her.

“i’m good,” she replied colder than usual. she was kind of aloof by nature, but she was always nice to you, so you found it a bit weird.

“uh, okay. i’m glad,” you responded, “coach lost his stopwatch, he said you have more in here?” you asked her.

"first cabinet," she remarked nonchalantly, her gaze returning to her phone.

opting not to address her peculiar behaviour, you simply went on to search for the stopwatch. you opened the initial cabinet of the desk where nat had propped up her feet and sifted through its contents until finally locating what you needed. "found it!" you exclaimed as you retrieved the stopwatch and shut the cabinet.

"i'll see you later. enjoy your security endeavors," you added, a playful smile on your face.

"sure thing," she replied, her tone casual. "and you... have fun with lottie," she added, her words laced with a subtle sarcasm that was hard to miss.

curiously, you asked, "what do you mean by that?" her tone leaving you slightly puzzled.

“nothing, i mean, you two looked pretty close in there,” she began, her gaze finally meeting yours. “rubbing your back like that and all.”

a bit taken aback, you explained, "well, you know that lottie and i are really close friends, so i'm not sure where you're going with this. and why were you keeping tabs on us anyway?"

nat rolled her eyes and scoffed, "please, spare me the innocent act. you know exactly what i'm talking about. and besides, lottie's not exactly the most trustworthy person, is she?"

you felt a surge of irritation rise within you. "what are you talking about? lottie's been nothing but a good friend to me."

"look, i'm just saying," nat defended herself, "lottie has a reputation for being flirty with everyone. you don't want to be just another name on her list."

disbelief coursed through you. "that's ridiculous," you shot back. "lottie’s just a friend, and i trust her. you're just jealous."

"jealous?" nat scoffed. "why would i be jealous? i have no interest in you like that."

"then what's the problem?" you demanded, a hint of frustration in your voice.

"problem? there's no problem," nat retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "i just care about you, okay? maybe a bit too much, considering it's none of my business who you're cozying up to."

you felt a mix of frustration and confusion. "nat, you're acting really strange right now. what’s wrong?"

"oh, so now you're the expert on how i'm supposed to act?" she spat out, her voice tinged with a sharp edge. she suddenly stood up, her chair scraping back, and before you knew it, she had you cornered between her body and the desk. her eyes, which were usually warm and inviting, now held a fiery intensity.

“well, watch this,” she said, closing the distance and pulling you into a violent kiss. the suddenness of her actions left you stunned for a moment, but as her lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t help but reciprocate the kiss with the same urgency. her lips were fierce, full of both frustration and a deep, hidden longing that you hadn’t acknowledged before.

your mind raced to catch up with the sudden shift. her lips were demanding, pressing against yours with an almost bruising fervor. her hands found their way to your waist as she pulled you closer, and her tongue caressed yours, sending tingles of pleasure up your spine.

finally nat pulled away, both of your breaths coming in ragged gasps. she searched your face for a reaction, as if unsure of what she had done or what to expect from you—but you could see the desire and confidence in her eyes.

“i bet you didn’t see that coming,” she remarked with a smug tone, her expression maintaining a serious demeanour as her gaze lingered on your lips once more.

“or this,” she whispered, her face descending as she placed a kiss along your jawline. her hands glided from your sides to the edge of your shorts in a tantalizing manner. “or this,” she continued in a hushed voice, her lips planting fervent kisses on your neck. all the while, her fingers delicately explored the border of your shorts, gently caressing and tugging; your response came in the form of a soft, involuntary groan escaping your lips.

but then, as abruptly as it began, she paused, lifting her lips from your neck. raising her head, she fixed her gaze intensely into your eyes.

"or..." her voice trailed off as her hand ventured beneath the fabric of your shorts, fingers sliding in ever so slowly.

she held your gaze for a lingering moment. with your consent apparent in your eyes, she wasted no time, delicately resting two of her fingers atop your clothed clit. in deliberate, almost torturous movements, her fingers traced delicate circles, her touch sending a shiver down your spine. her face drew nearer, nuzzling against your cheek, warm breaths mingling with the sensitive skin of your neck.

involuntarily, your hips responded, aching for more friction. yet, the closer you drew to her, the gentler the pressure of her touch became, evading your attempts to intensify the sensation, leaving you yearning for more.

"harder," you groaned, your voice finding her ear.

"no," she murmured, her fingers tracing an exquisitely gentle path along your already damp cloth-covered folds.

“please,” you begged, your hips twitching as your arms reflexively grabbed around her torso, attempting to get her closer to you.

“y'want me to fuck you?” she questioned, a sharper edge to her tone compared to before.

“y–” you started, only to be interrupted.

“you want me to fuck you, just so that you can close your eyes and pretend it’s lottie, don’t you?” she asked, the pressure on your clothed center increasing, her eyes aflame with a fervent blend of anger and desire, a side of her you had never seen before.

"no, that's not—" you began, confusion etched across your face.

“yes, you do,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice husky. “but i’ll prove to you i’m better,” she declared, determination evident in her gaze.

in a swift motion, she withdrew her hand from your shorts, abruptly turning you around. her nimble fingers hastened to unfasten her jeans and underwear, letting them fall to the floor. with equal speed, your shorts and underwear followed suit.

she slowly placed her hands around your torso and drew you closer, her strap resting right against your slit. she slipped a hand beneath your shirt, one encircling your waist as the other ascended to your throat, exerting a slight pressure as she drew your body tightly against hers.

she began to give hot, wet kisses to the exposed back of your neck before slowly moving on to your ear and nibbling on it. you could only groan in response, your fingers clutching at her forearms on top of your shirt.

amid her nibbling, she shifted her gaze to the surveillance cameras, and noticed lottie giggling in the background. her hand that had been tightening around your throat now withdrew, granting her more freedom of movement. she directed your face toward hers, claiming your lips in a demanding, almost bruising kiss. her teeth sank into your lower lip with fervor as her hips ground against your slick, moist center. it wasn’t until she tasted the blood flowing out of your bottom lip that she pulled away.

“i want you to look at her while i fuck you,” she commanded, turning your face toward the monitors by gripping your jaw.

“what? no way,” you retorted, swift in your refusal.

“i’m not asking you,” she snapped, her hands propelling your body against the desk, the monitors now in clear view. "is that clear?" she asked, her fingers tangling in your hair, tilting your head to face the monitor displaying lottie. you remained silent.

her free hand descended to her own strap-on, teasingly pressing it against your throbbing entrance. lowering her body onto yours, her heated breath whispered against your ear. "i asked, are we clear?" she repeated, her voice measured and stern.

“y-yes,” you gasped, the slight contact of her length against your slickness causing your senses to spin.

“good,” she murmured, nipping your jaw gently before rising, her hand sliding to your waist and gripping it firmly, while her other hand continued to hold your head in place. without further due, she slammed her entire length inside you, bottoming out and deliciously stretching your tight walls, which were too tight for the the size of her girth.

“shit, y/n, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” she groaned as her rhythm started to build. sliding in and out of you, her thrusts made your walls clench around her with each movement. you moaned as you felt the tip of her cock repeatedly stimulating your g-spot, prompting you to arch your hips backward in an attempt to take her even deeper.

“g-go rougher,” you pleaded, your attempts to go deeper falling short of your expectations.

“rougher?” she asked, a hint of challenge in her voice. “i’ll give you rough, then.” she released her hold on your hair, her hand finding its place on your lower back. with the other hand, she lifted one of your legs onto the desk, anchoring it there as she began thrusting with renewed vigor, burying her cock deeper and faster into you, the change in angle allowing her to.

“oh— ffuck, s’ fucking good” you moaned, your words pouring out in a rush as the sensation of her girthy cock gliding against your inner walls consumed your senses.

“lottie could never fuck you this good,” she declared as she increased her pace, the sound of wet slaps reverberating against the walls of the room. “could she?” she asked, the grip on your leg tightening enough to leave a mark.

“n-no, no, she could never,” you babbled out, slurring your words as you tried to answer coherently, barely processing her words. your moans grew louder as you felt her hand travel from your thigh to your clit, skillfully stimulating it while maintaining her deep thrusts.

“fuck, nat, m’ gonna cum,” you cried out in pleasure, pushing your body closer to her as the climax built within you. twisting your swollen clit between her fingers, she maintained her fervent rhythm, pressing you further towards the edge. her hand traced your waist, reaching your jaw, ensuring your teary gaze remained locked onto lottie.

she began to suck fervently on your neck, her thrusts growing more urgent. “i want you to cum while you look at her,” she commanded, prompting a whine of response from you.

“tell me i’m better than her,” she commanded, her hot breath teasing your neck as she marked it. “say it,” she insisted, pressing her fingers harder against your jaw while intensifying the pressure on your clit.

“you’re… you’re better,” you stammered, nearly incapable of coherent speech, a tear of pleasure tracing your cheek.

“better than who?” she teased, intensifying her suction on your neck.

“than lottie— better than lottie,” you finally admitted. that was all she needed to hear before sliding her tongue into your mouth and kissing you roughly, her tongue exploring your mouth deeply. her thrusts grew more aggressive, and as she reached her peak, warm streams of cum filled your tight walls, making you cry out in pleasure. your walls clamped down so tightly around her girth, that it was nearly impossible for her to continue thursting.

she remained there, her cock resting inside you as you both regained your breath. several minutes passed before she rose, removing her cock gently from within you and smoothly pulling up her pants, fastening them securely. at the same time, you managed to straighten up from the desk, struggling to steady your shaky legs as you pulled up your shorts.

"enjoy your time in p.e.," she playfully taunted, her gaze fixed on your wobbly legs and flushed cheeks as she settled back into her seat, an air of satisfaction surrounding her.

"will do! i'm sure i'll enjoy my time with lottie," you teased, well aware that your words would stir jealousy. with a mischievous grin, you snatched up the abandoned stopwatch and dashed out of the room.

"you'll regret saying that!" she shouted after you as you made your escape.

"i doubt it, joe goldberg!" your distant voice retorted, your footsteps fading into the distance.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Polishing

Author’s note: More of Titus in Blueberry Pie

Summary: Titus requests that you help tend to his armor.

Warnings: none? Let me know 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

Titus had found that one serf who had gained the eye of a couple of his younger brothers, who were being… a bit unprofessional. One was being mischievous and needling the more easily provoked brother. Who is falling for the lure and bait, hook, line, and sinker.

Titus shakes his head with a sigh and a huff of laughter, he remembers the pair of bratty little brothers back when they were merely battle brothers- before they had attained their lofty ranks. The younger of the two squabbling brothers knew how much ‘improper’ speech could bother the hell out of the Noble born Ultramarines, and did it anyway.

It’s good- to try to find ways to humble some of the more… elitist brothers, drag them back into the soil and mud. Kept their egos in check, so long as it didn’t go too far, things going too far hasn’t happened in a while, but he’s monitoring that situation, just in case.

It’s good that more of Ventris’s personality is coming back out, as much as it’s sometimes aggravating. The poor younger brother had been tortured by a faction of the Inquisition, Titus grimaces to himself, he knows first hand how miserable that experience can be.

He spots you and calls out, “Miss Serf?”

You turn and look over at him, bowing politely and asking, “How may I serve you, My Lord?”

“I need help cleaning and tending to my armor,” Titus says, “Come with me.”

“Yes Lord Angel,” You reply

You had heard that Lord Demetrian Titus was known for being polite and soft spoken. Resolute and dauntless, caring and concerned for the baseline folk. Something that cannot be said for all Lord Angels, or so you have been told by some of the older, more experienced Serfs.

You help him take off his armor- which is incredibly heavy, he helps you shift the pieces of armor too heavy for you to carry to be carefully placed where he wants it to be cleaned. Once the Armor is off you try not to fluster.

The black carapace that is void-capable adheres to Lord Astarte bodies like a second skin. Then you try not to cough as your eye water, you have also been warned that the … ripe scent of a Lord Angel who’s been on campaign, and unable to be out of armor for weeks or months at a time can be quite… pungent.

“I am glad of the communal baths,” Titus says with a self-deprecating smile, “It helps with washing the mud of battle off one’s skin.”

“As you say, Lord Titus,” You say your cheeks are still pink and your eyes water a little bit.

“Stay here and clean my armor, I shall be back in a few moments,” Lord Titus says as he heads off to have a luxurious bath in the Astartes bathing area- joining a mixed group of battle brothers and officers.

While he relaxes in the baths, talking and listening to his brother talk about the battles they’ve recently fought, and some of the best currency they have gossip. Titus hears the story of how Sicarius- as a Sargent, The Chapter Master, The Head Librarian, and another brother, basically ruined an entire space marine’s career.

No one knows the reasons, official or otherwise for the reason they had done so, but it was good gossip to have- and a reminder of the power that their Chapter Master held, not just the martial power, but the soft power as well.

Part of Titus wondered if he should ask Cato his side of that particular story, and if the younger Space marine will tell him or not. Even odds- Cato is usually proud of his accomplishments, as well as helping their Chapter Master do Things.

While that was going on, you were carefully cleaning, scrubbing and polishing Lord Titus’s armor. The brackish, awful smelling armor slowly becomes that noble hue of blue and gold. You clean and replace the cloth and bucket of cleaning solution and water as needed.

By the time all of the armor is properly cleaned and polished, your arms are sore from carefully heaving the heavier parts of armor around to ensure that it’s properly cleaned on both sides. That the leather-mixture, whatever it was on the inside of the armor is also properly cleaned and taken care of.

“Thank you for getting my armor done,” Titus thanks you.

You jump a little, startled, Lord Angels are surprisingly light on their feet and silent out of armor.

“You are welcome, Lord Angel,” You reply, now that the smell of mud, blood, and battle was off of him, your cheeks flush a little as you try not to… eye the Lord Angel inappropriately. 

He gives you a small smile and a gentle nod as he releases you from the task of trying to put the armor away properly. Which he does easily, he dismisses you and you bow to him and head out to return to your previous duties.