#like. this will break him. but i need to see HOW he acts when hes broken | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enhaflixer · 2 days ago

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ENHA HARD HOURS - brat tamer!enhypen x brat f!reader cw(MDNI 18+) : atp idek what to say biting, spitting, explicit hard core stuff. jake's mouth is disgusting as usual and jungwons actions might acc kill me and the rest i just have no words

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

You should’ve known better than to push Heeseung this far.

It had started as a game. A little teasing here and there, brushing him off when he tried to pull you into his lap, dodging his kisses at the last second, giggling when he let out a low, frustrated sigh. You knew exactly what you were doing. You liked the way his patience thinned little by little, how his fingers flexed like he was barely holding himself back. It was a dangerous game—you knew that. But you didn’t care. Not when the reward was watching him unravel.

The real mistake, though, was what you did next. Flirting with Sunghoon had been an impulse decision, one you knew would push Heeseung over the edge. You weren’t stupid. You could feel his gaze burning into the back of your head as you laughed just a little too sweetly at something Sunghoon said, reaching out to touch his arm for no reason at all. But when you turned to look at Heeseung, expecting to see jealousy, maybe a flash of irritation—his face was completely blank. No reaction at all.

That should have been your first warning.

Later, when he finally grabbed your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it just a little too tightly, his voice was steady, unreadable. “Come home. Now.”

You smiled, tilting your head up at him, smug as ever. “Make me.”

The shift was instant. His grip on your wrist tightened, his jaw tensing as his eyes darkened. Your stomach dropped.You had pushed him too far.

Heeseung barely gave you time to react before you were pinned to the bed. Your wrists were trapped above your head, held in place by one of his hands, his other hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him. His gaze was sharp, cold.He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t playing. This wasn’t part of the game anymore.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was calm—too calm, mocking. “You really thought you could get away with that shit, huh?” His grip tightened just enough to make your breath hitch.

You swallowed hard, but refused to break just yet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

SMACK.

A sharp slap landed across your ass, the sting stinging deep, making you jolt. Before you could even react, another followed. Harder. You bit your lip, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but Heeseung just laughed.

“You wanna try that again?” His tone was casual, almost bored.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

Heeseung hummed, tilting his head like he was actually considering it. Then, with a slow, wicked smirk, he let his fingers trail down your body, teasing—but never touching you where you needed it. “Oh, baby,” he sighed, fingers ghosting over your inner thighs, making them twitch. “That mouth of yours is gonna get you in so much trouble.”

You lifted your hips, trying to get any kind of friction, but Heeseung pulled away completely, making you whine.

“Oh, no,” he tsked. “You wanna be a brat? Then you don’t get to have me. Not yet.”

You let out a frustrated whimper, squirming beneath him, but he just smirked.

SMACK.

Another sharp slap. Your thighs trembled, the mix of pain and pleasure making your body burn.

“You thought you were so fucking clever today, didn’t you?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Ignoring me. Touching Sunghoon. Flirting right in front of me.” He let out a dark laugh. “Cute.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting you off instantly.

“You really think I’m stupid, baby?” His lips brushed against your ear, his tone dripping with condescension. “You really think I wouldn’t notice you acting like a little slut all night just to get a reaction out of me?”

A shiver ran through your body. You hated how much that word sent heat pooling between your legs. Hated how your body betrayed you every time he talked to you like this.

Heeseung noticed. Of course, he did.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckled, his hand leaving your throat to trail lower. His fingers barely grazed your folds, spreading the wetness he found there. “You’re dripping. Fucking soaked.” He let out a mocking laugh. “God, you really are filthy, aren’t you? You like this, huh?”

You shook your head. “N-no,” you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Heeseung pulled his hand away.

Your stomach dropped.

He sat back, watching you. The loss of contact made you whimper, your thighs pressing together desperately, but he just grinned.

“You don’t get to lie to me, baby.” Heeseung’s voice was dark, velvety, merciless. “You don’t get to act like a little brat and then expect me to fuck you nice and sweet.” He leaned in, lips brushing against yours but not kissing you. “You’re gonna beg for it.”

You swallowed hard, pride hanging by a thread. “P-please…”

“Please what?” he smirked. “Use your fucking words.”

You clenched your fists, frustration building. You wanted him so bad. But he wasn’t going to give it to you unless you broke.

“Please, Heeseung,” you gasped, voice shaking. “Please touch me, I—I need it, I need you—”

Heeseung just sighed. “Mmm. I dunno, sweetheart. You were being such a fucking brat earlier.” He let his fingers tease you again, barely dipping inside you before pulling away, making you cry out.

“Please—”

Another sharp spank.

“You can do better than that.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You couldn’t take it anymore. “I-I’m sorry,” you choked out, desperate, broken. “I was wrong. I’ll be good. Please, I need you, please—”

Heeseung tilted his head, watching you fall apart. Then, finally, his lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk.

“There’s my good girl.”

And then, at last, he ruined you.

Heeseung didn’t let up—didn’t slow down, didn’t let you breathe. He touched you everywhere, made you feel everything, his hands and mouth claiming you so thoroughly you didn’t know where he ended and you began. He didn’t stop until you were a shaking, whimpering mess, barely able to think, barely able to breathe through the pleasure.

As he kissed your temple, soft again, sweet again, he whispered against your damp skin, voice dripping with satisfaction.

“Next time you decide to test me, sweetheart…” He chuckled, low and dark.

“Remember how fucking bad you begged for me.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

Jay had always been a giver.

The kind of man who put you first, no matter what. The kind who kissed your ankles before trailing up your thighs, who held your face so tenderly when he pressed his lips against yours. The kind who worshipped your body like it was his sole purpose in life to make you feel good.

Which is why, when you first brought up the idea of bratting, he had just laughed.

“Baby,” he had sighed, shaking his head with pure adoration. “You know I could never be mean to you.”

You had just smirked. “We’ll see.”

It had been too easy to get under his skin.

You knew exactly how to poke at his restraint. How to test the limits of his patience. It started small—pushing his hands off you when he tried to touch you, rolling your eyes when he kissed your neck. When he pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist?

You huffed dramatically and stood up, brushing yourself off.

“Nah. Not in the mood.”

Jay had blinked up at you, brows raising slightly, clearly taken aback. You watched the way his jaw tensed just a little,the way his fingers curled into his lap before he exhaled, forcing a smile.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice gentle as always. “Let me know when you are.”

That was your first mistake.

Because you had wanted him to snap. You had wanted him to take control. Jay, sweet, patient Jay, had tried so fucking hard not to.

But the moment you rolled your eyes again? The moment you let out a small, dismissive scoff?

That patience shattered.

One second, you were standing. The next, you were on your knees.

Jay had grabbed your wrist, yanked you down in front of him, and before you could even process it, his fingers were gripping your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his.

“You wanna act like a brat, baby?” His voice was low, tight, dangerous. “Fine. But now, you’re gonna fucking take care of me first.”

Your stomach dropped.

Jay had never been selfish. Never taken before giving. Never used you for his own pleasure. But now?

Now, he was looking down at you like he was going to ruin you.

He leaned forward, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing. “I spend all my time making you feel good,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down, brushing over your collarbone, tracing the delicate lines of your body before moving lower. “And you wanna act up? Act like you don’t fucking need me?”

His fingers hooked under your chin, tilting your face up.

“That’s fine, sweetheart,” he sighed, mock sympathy dripping from his tone. “Then tonight, it’s about me.”

Your lips parted, breath catching.

Jay just chuckled.

“Open.”

Your thighs clenched. But you obeyed.

The moment your mouth parted, Jay’s fingers slipped inside, pressing against your tongue, his eyes darkening as he felt the wet heat of your mouth.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now let’s put that bratty little mouth to work.”

Your brain short-circuited.

Jay reached down, undoing his belt with deliberate slowness, watching your face the entire time. You could see it—the way his chest rose and fell just a little heavier, the way his fingers twitched with anticipation.

But then, when he finally pulled himself out, you whimpered.

“That’s right, baby.” His hand threaded into your hair, gripping just tight enough to make your scalp tingle. “I don’t want you teasing. I don’t want you playing.” He leaned down, his forehead nearly pressing against yours. “I want you to take it. All of it.”

Fuck. Fuck.

You barely had time to react before he was pushing past your lips, slow but deep, groaning as he felt you stretch around him. His head tilted back for a second, his throat bobbing, his breath hitching.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, his voice wrecked already. His hand tightened in your hair, keeping you still as he pushed deeper, deeper, until the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, making your eyes sting with tears.

Jay groaned. A deep, primal sound, his thighs tensing as he held you there for a second, letting you feel it.

Then, he pulled back. Not all the way—just enough to let you breathe before he thrust back in, slow but rough, making you choke slightly.

You whimpered, drool slipping past the corner of your lips. Jay cursed under his breath, wiping it away with his thumb, smearing it across your cheek.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, his tone taunting. “Like being used. Like being fucked open.” His grip on your hair tightened, tugging your head back slightly before thrusting back into your mouth, making you gag. “Not so bratty now, huh?”

Your thighs pressed together, the heat between your legs unbearable. You wanted to touch yourself so fucking badly,but Jay noticed the way you squirmed.

He laughed.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he warned, breathless. “You don’t get to touch yourself. Not after the shit you pulled tonight.”

You let out a muffled whine, and Jay groaned again, his head dropping forward, pressing against the wall behind him.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so fucking good for me now, huh? Taking me so well. Not a single complaint.” His fingers brushed against your cheek, soft again, affectionate. “That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”

His hips jerked forward, losing rhythm, and you knew he was getting close. His thighs were tensing, his stomach flexing. His breathing was ragged, desperate.

Then, his fingers slid to your jaw, gripping just tight enough to make you look up at him.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he muttered, his voice low, ruined. “Wanna see that pretty little face when I cum.”

He broke right then and there.

Jay groaned your name, his hips snapping forward, his abs contracting hard as he spilled down your throat, his entire body shuddering. He held you there, panting, shaking, his fingers brushing over your lips as he watched you swallow everything he gave you.

Then, after a long moment, he let out a breathy chuckle.

“Fuck,” he sighed, running a hand through his damp hair, his cheeks flushed, his eyes hazy. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, sweetheart.”

You licked your lips, giving him a sly, innocent look.

“So…” You tilted your head. “Did I push you far enough?”

Jay just shook his head, grinning.“Baby,” he murmured, leaning down, lifting you up with ease and throwing you onto the couch. “We’re just getting started.”

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

Jake had never been this fucking angry before.

Not at you. Not at anyone.

It started small—just a disagreement, a little back and forth, nothing serious. But you had been pushing him. You had wanted this.

And now?

Now, he was burning with it.

“Why the fuck are you acting like this?” Jake snapped, standing across from you, his fingers digging into his scalp as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “You wanna piss me off? Is that what you fucking want?”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the couch like you weren’t intentionally trying to get under his skin. “I’m not doing anything, Jake. You’re the one getting worked up.”

His jaw ticked, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath, like he was physically restraining himself from losing it completely. “Worked up? You’ve been a fucking brat all day. Ignoring me, rolling your eyes, mouthing off like you don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to.”

You scoffed. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re intimidating, Jake. You’re not.”

His jaw clenched. Hard.

“Try me.”

You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his entire body had tensed up, his hands curled into fists at his sides. But you weren’t done.

Not yet.

“You don’t scare me,” you said, tilting your chin up at him. “You act all cocky, but you let people walk all over you, Jake. You’re too nice. Too fucking soft.”

Jake let out a bitter, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “You’re so fucking full of shit.”

“You know I’m right.” You shrugged, the smirk playing at your lips. “You pretend you’re in control, but let’s be real—you don’t even know how to take what you want.”

That did it.

His head snapped up, his eyes burning, his patience completely fucking gone.

“You wanna see me take what I want?” His voice was low, dangerous, lethal. “Careful what you fucking ask for, sweetheart.”

You should have stopped. Should have backed down, should have apologized.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you said the worst fucking thing of your life.

“Y’know, he could probably make me cum faster than you can.”

Silence.

Jake’s entire body locked up. His head tilted slightly, his lips parting like he wasn’t sure he heard you correctly.

In an instant, he was in front of you, his hand wrapping around your jaw, gripping it hard enough to make your lips part.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

His eyes were burning, his fingers digging into your skin, his entire body shaking with barely-contained rage.

You swallowed, chest rising and falling, heart hammering in your ribs.

But you were too far gone.

You smirked.

That was it.

Before you could even breathe, Jake had yanked you onto the couch, shoved you down, and spread you the fuck open.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

No teasing. No warm-up. No fucking foreplay.

His hands gripped your thighs so hard you knew there would be bruises. He ripped your panties down with one sharp tug, the fabric burning against your skin as he yanked them past your thighs.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through your folds, spreading the mess you had already made all over yourself. His touch was slow, taunting, humiliating.

“You’re fucking dripping. You like this, don’t you?” His voice was low, mocking, pure condescension. He let out another chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Such a dirty little bitch. Talking about another man when you’re this fucking wet for me.”

You bit your lip, hands digging into the cushions, your body betraying you, trembling in anticipation.

Jake noticed. Of course, he did.

His grin turned wicked, dark, completely unhinged. “Bet if I slapped this nasty little cunt, you’d fucking moan, wouldn’t you?”

Your entire body tensed.

“Jake—”

SMACK.

A sharp, stinging slap landed directly against your clit, the sudden shock ripping a strangled gasp from your throat,your back arching completely off the couch.

Jake’s breath shuddered, his cock straining against his jeans, his fingers flexing against your thighs like he was barely holding himself back.

“Oh, you fucking liked that.” His voice was pure filth. He tilted his head, watching the way your thighs twitched, the way your hips subtly shifted like you wanted more.

“God, baby, you’re disgusting.” His fingers spread you open again, admiring the way your slick dripped down onto the couch. “You got my fucking couch messy. Dirty fucking slut.”

This was a man on a fucking mission.

His tongue was rough, filthy, relentless, flicking against your swollen clit so fast you couldn’t even process it. His lips wrapped around it, sucking with obscene, wet sounds, his breath heavy, ragged, completely unhinged.

And then—he bit you.

Your scream tore through the room, your thighs clamping shut around his head, your back arching off the couch.

Jake groaned into you, loud and filthy, gripping your legs and forcing them apart again, holding you wide fucking open.

“Keep running your mouth now, baby,” he murmured against your cunt, his voice low, ruined, mean. “Tell me again how someone else could fuck you better than me. Say it, I fucking dare you.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t fucking breathe.

Jake just laughed.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

Without warning—his fingers slammed inside you.

Deep. Hard. Perfect.

The stretch burned, his pace ruthless, unforgiving, fucking into you like he wanted to break you. His tongue flicked over your clit again, biting down every time you made a sound.

You sobbed, your body convulsing, your hips trying to jerk away.

Jake’s grip tightened.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart. You’re not fucking going anywhere.”

His voice was pure sin.

“You’re gonna sit the fuck still and take it.”

You whimpered, shaking your head, begging for something—anything—but Jake just fucking laughed again, low and mean, before spitting on your cunt, spreading the mess with his tongue.

“Messy fucking whore.”

Your orgasm hit you like a fucking truck, tearing through you so violently you screamed, legs shaking as you came so hard you thought you might black out.

But Jake?

Jake didn’t stop.

“Oh, you thought we were done?” He snorted, mean and mocking. “Nah, sweetheart. You wanted to talk shit?”

He sucked your clit back into his mouth, moaning at the taste.

“Now you’re gonna fucking take it.”

Your second orgasm ripped through you instantly, your entire body spasming, your hips trying to jerk away, but Jake just gripped you tighter, forcing you to sit on his face, to fucking ride his tongue.

And then, before you could even breathe, your entire body tensed—

Liquid gushed out of you.

Hard.

All over his face, his chin, soaking the couch beneath you, your body completely convulsing.

Jake let out a wrecked, breathy groan, his hips grinding into the floor, his tongue still fucking working you open, still fucking sucking every last drop from you.

But even then—he didn’t stop.

“Oh, you’re fucking crying now?” He mocked, his fingers still slamming into you, deep and fast. “Poor fucking baby. Can’t take what she asked for?”

You sobbed, your body completely wrecked, completely useless.

You tried to say something—beg him, plead, say anything, but the words barely even formed, coming out in a broken, trembling whimper.

Jake just laughed, mean and taunting, his tongue dragging over your clit again, biting down hard enough to make you scream.

“Shut the fuck up, baby.” His voice was low, dangerous, dripping with dominance. “If you’re not gonna scream like the filthy little cumslut you are, then don’t fucking speak.”

He went back in.

Biting, sucking, bruising.

Forcing another, and another, and another orgasm out of you until you couldn’t even move, couldn’t even think, your entire body trembling.

By the time he was done, by the time he had wrung you out so many times you had nothing left to give, your skin covered in bite marks, bruises, your body shaking from overstimulation, you finally realized,

You had never stood a fucking chance.

Jake licked his lips, panting, his face completely soaked with you, his hair damp with sweat. He leaned up, hovering over your wrecked, ruined body, gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

His voice was raw, low, unrecognizable.

“Next time you even think about talking shit, sweetheart?”

He licked a stripe up your neck, biting your bottom lip so hard you whimpered.“Remember who the fuck owns this filthy little cunt.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

Sunghoon had told you.

He had warned you before locking himself in his office, his voice low, steady, and unwavering. He hadn’t said it cruelly—he never needed to raise his voice to make you listen.

“I have to work all day today. Don’t bother me.”

That should have been enough.

Should have been the end of it.

But you were a brat. And Sunghoon’s biggest mistake was telling you not to do something.

So you made a plan.

A stupid, reckless, fucked-up plan.

Standing in the doorway of his office, completely naked, you knew you had just set yourself up for a punishment you wouldn’t survive.

Sunghoon was mid-Zoom meeting, voice smooth and professional, his fingers flying across the keyboard, posture straight and focused—completely oblivious to what you were about to do.

Until you grabbed a chair, dragged it right in front of his desk, and sat down—spreading your legs wide, running your fingers between your thighs, putting on a fucking show.

For him.

For your boyfriend who had told you not to bother him.

For the man who hated being disrespected.

For Park Sunghoon, who had never been soft on you when you misbehaved.

You caught the moment he noticed.

His fingers paused on the keyboard. His posture straightened. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

But he didn’t react.

Didn’t scold you. Didn’t glare.

He ignored you.

Kept his fucking cool, continued speaking in that deep, controlled voice like you weren’t sitting right in front of him, fingers slipping between your thighs, chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths.

That was the moment you knew.

You were so fucking done for.

At first, you teased yourself slowly, dragging your fingers through your folds, dipping them in just enough to make yourself gasp. You moaned, softly at first, letting your body relax into the chair, enjoying the power you thought you had.

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked toward you once, just for a second, before going back to his screen.

It wasn’t enough.

So you got louder.

Your fingers worked deeper, faster, two slipping inside, curling against that spot that made your hips jerk, made your breath stutter. Your free hand trailed up your stomach, pinching your nipples, tugging and rolling them, whimpering as you squeezed your thighs together.

Still, he ignored you.

Kept typing, kept nodding at whatever the hell his coworker was saying, his voice even and smooth, unfazed.

You moaned again, louder than necessary, making sure every single sound you made filled the quiet room.

Nothing.

Sunghoon didn’t react, didn’t break, didn’t give you a single ounce of satisfaction.

You knew he was angry. You could feel it. The tension in his jaw, the stiffness of his shoulders, the way he kept adjusting in his seat, shifting like he was trying to control himself.

But he wouldn’t give in.

So you made yourself cum.

Right in front of him.

Loud. Messy. Desperate.

Your fingers curled deep, your back arching as you rode out your first orgasm, moaning his name, gasping for air as your thighs trembled, squeezing together from the aftershocks.

Still, Sunghoon ignored you.

Kept working.

Didn’t give you so much as a glance.

So you did it again.

Your fingers found your clit this time, rubbing messy, fast circles, your hips rolling against your own touch, your body already so sensitive it was almost painful. The second orgasm hit you even harder, tearing through your body so violently that you almost cried.

Sunghoon reached out and muted himself mid-sentence.

Then, he looked at you.

Just once.

His look alone made your stomach drop.

It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t hunger.

It was pure fucking rage.

You barely had time to process it before his meeting ended, and the moment the screen went black—

He stood up.

You gasped, trying to scramble out of the chair, trying to run, but it was too fucking late.

Sunghoon was on you, gripping your throat, yanking you up so effortlessly it made your head spin.

His fingers squeezed, forcing you to look at him, forcing you to see the way his eyes burned with something dark, something dangerous.

“You really don’t listen, do you?” His voice was calm, controlled, but terrifying.

Your breath was shaky, your naked body trembling in his grasp.

“I—I just thought you needed a break,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon just laughed. A low, dark sound that made your stomach twist.

“You thought you could distract me?” His fingers tightened just slightly around your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you whimper. “You really think you’re that fucking irresistible?”

Before you could answer, he flipped you around and bent you over the desk.

And then?

Nothing.

Sunghoon ignored you.

Just stood there, his hands running over every inch of your body, touching you everywhere except where you needed him most.

His fingers ghosted over your back, up your spine, over your shoulders. They squeezed your ass, traced the curve of your hips, gripped the inside of your thighs.

They dragged lower.

Lower.

Lower—

But not there.

Sunghoon’s hands brushed over your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone, your thighs, your calves, your fucking ankles. He gripped everything. Worshipped everything. Squeezed, kneaded, traced.

But he didn’t touch you there.

Didn’t give you what you needed.

That was when you realized—this was your punishment.

Your frustration boiled over, your body trembling with how badly you needed him.

“Please, Sunghoon,” you whimpered, pushing your hips back, desperate, aching.

Nothing.

His fingers grazed over your tightest hole, teasing, circling, but never pushing in.

You let out a shaky sob, frustration burning in your chest, tears stinging your eyes.

“Fucking touch me.”

Sunghoon grinned against your shoulder, completely entertained.

“Poor baby,” he cooed, cruel, mocking. “So fucking desperate.”

You shook in his grip, letting out a full, wrecked sob.

Sunghoon just chuckled, dark and dangerous, lips brushing against your ear.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Cry.” His voice was low, deadly, dripping with amusement.

“You should’ve thought about that before acting like a needy little slut.”

He kept going.

Kept ignoring you.

Kept teasing you. Kept teaching you exactly why you should never fucking disobey Park Sunghoon.

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

Sunoo loved to act like he was the one in control. He liked to roll his eyes when you tested him, sigh dramatically whenever you got a little too bratty, flash that smug little smirk when he thought he had you wrapped around his finger.He’d tilt his head, raise a brow, and say something teasing, something condescending, something that made it seem like he wasn’t affected by your games. But that was a lie.

Because Sunoo had no fucking restraint.

When you pushed him too far, he didn’t just put you in your place.

He dragged you down with him.

It started as a stupid little game. You wanted to see how much teasing he could handle before he finally broke. Sunoo was always trying to act like he was in charge, like he had all the power, like he could handle whatever you threw at him. So naturally, you wanted to prove him wrong. You started small—brushing off his touches, sighing when he kissed you, glancing at your phone when he tried to pull you onto his lap. Sunoo noticed immediately. He wasn’t the type to ignore things like this, and you could tell by the way he shifted in his seat, the way his fingers drummed against his knee, the way his tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he tried so hard to keep his composure.

But Sunoo wasn’t calm.

Sunoo wasn’t patient.

Sunoo wasn’t the brat tamer.

Sunoo was just as much of a brat as you were.

So when you looked at him with a smirk and whispered, “Is that all you’ve got?”

Sunoo snapped.

His entire body froze for half a second, like his brain needed to process what you had just said, and then suddenly, you weren’t sitting anymore. He had shoved you onto the bed so fast you barely had time to gasp, his hands gripping your thighs, pinning you down beneath him, straddling your hips like he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even a second. His face was inches from yours, his eyes dark, his lips parted, his breath heavy.

“You think you can just say shit like that?” His voice was high, breathy, trembling slightly— not from fear or hesitation, but from pure fucking need. His fingers trailed up your sides, gripping, squeezing, touching everything he could, as if he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed against your jaw, then your neck, then your collarbone, kissing, sucking, licking, mouthing at your skin like he needed it to survive.

“You think I can’t—fuck—you think I can’t handle you?” His hips rutted against yours, desperate, sloppy, uncoordinated, completely unhinged. His hands were everywhere, on your waist, on your chest, sliding down to your thighs, gripping hard enough to bruise.

Sunoo wasn’t holding back anymore.

Sunoo was completely fucking gone.

“Oh my god, I hate you,” he whined, voice high and breathless, but his body contradicted him entirely as he pressed himself closer, rolling his hips against you like he couldn’t stand not being buried in you already. It was so Sunoo—messy, chaotic, too fast, too much, all at once, no control, no restraint. His hands were shaking as he touched every inch of your skin, as if he needed to feel you everywhere at once.

“You don’t hate me,” you teased, gasping when he squeezed your waist hard, his nails digging in.

“I do,” he muttered, lips dragging over your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “I do. I hate you so much. You make me like this. You make me—ah—” His words broke off into a shaky moan, high and breathy, as his hips stuttered against you, completely lost in the moment.

Then, you broke.

Because Sunoo wasn’t controlling you anymore.

You weren’t controlling him.

There was no winner.

Just messy, unrestrained, mind-numbing desperation.

By the time it was over, by the time the room had gone still, your bodies tangled together, chests heaving, skin damp with sweat, Sunoo let out a weak, breathless laugh, burying his face against your shoulder. His hands were still gripping your thighs, like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“We’re both fucking idiots.” His voice was hoarse, exhausted.

You huffed out a laugh, fingers tracing lazy circles against his back. “Yeah. But it’s your fault.”

Sunoo groaned, rolling onto his side, covering his face with his hands, his whole body still twitching from overstimulation.

“We are never doing that again,” he muttered.

You just smirked, glancing over at him.

“Sunoo.”

“Don’t.”

“Is that all you’ve got?”

He groaned dramatically, dragging a pillow over his face.

“I hate you.”

Maybe next time, neither of you should try to win.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

Jungwon wasn’t easily impressed.

He had infinite patience for other people—for business associates, for important guests, for those who needed to be handled with grace. He could smile, shake hands, make polite conversation without breaking a sweat.

You were the only one who could push him to his fucking limit.

And you knew it.

So when he had told you, very clearly, that tonight’s dinner was important—not to play games, not to act up, not to try him in public—

You did it anyway.

Because you were a brat.

Because you wanted to see just how far you could take it before Jungwon lost control.

You were going to suffer for it.

It had started subtly.

You had played nice for the first half of the evening—smiling sweetly, making polite conversation, sitting quietly beside him in the private dining room of a luxurious five-star restaurant.

Just when things were going smoothly, you pressed your hand onto his thigh.

Jungwon didn’t react.

Didn’t even glance at you.

He kept talking, voice smooth, composed, his posture completely relaxed.

So you took it further.

Your fingers traced slow, teasing circles on his inner thigh, inching higher, barely brushing over him.

Still, he didn’t react.

But then, just as you leaned in, just as your fingers moved a little too high—

His hand clamped down on your thigh, fingers digging in so hard you knew there would be bruises.

You barely managed to keep your gasp quiet.

Jungwon turned his head slightly, just enough for you to see the sharp, dark look in his eyes.

A warning.

But you only smirked.

And that was the last mistake you’d make tonight.

The ride back to the hotel was silent.

Jungwon didn’t speak, didn’t touch you, didn’t even look at you.

Somehow, that was worse.

Because you could feel it radiating off of him—the quiet rage, the suffocating control, the slow, creeping tension in the way his fingers flexed against his thigh.

By the time you reached the penthouse suite, you barely had time to breathe before he grabbed you.

One second, you were stepping inside—the next, your back was slammed against the door, his fingers gripping your chin, forcing your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Try that again.” His voice was low, cold, sharp enough to cut. “See what happens if you ever pull that shit in front of people again.”

Your breath caught, your body buzzing with adrenaline, with anticipation, with the sheer intensity of his stare.

Jungwon scoffed, shaking his head. “You think this is funny?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath warm but his words pure ice.

“Maybe next time, I should just fuck you in front of everyone. Make you cum on my cock while they watch.”

Your entire body tensed.

Jungwon grinned against your skin, feeling the way your breath hitched.

“Oh?” He pulled back slightly, tilting his head. “You don’t like that idea?” His fingers tightened around your chin, his grip firm, unyielding. “Then why the fuck would you act like a filthy little whore under the table?”

Your stomach twisted, heat pooling between your legs.

Jungwon let out a dark, humorless laugh.

“You’re pathetic.”

In one smooth motion, he spun you around, pressing you against the massive floor-to-ceiling window, forcing you to look down at the glittering city lights.

“You wanna put on a fucking show?” His hands gripped your hips, forcing your legs apart. “Then fucking take it, slut.”

Swiftly, he ripped your dress open.

The sharp sound of fabric tearing sent a shock through your body, your bare chest now exposed to the cold glass.

“Fucking look at yourself,” he muttered, pressing a hand against your spine, arching your back until your tits were flush against the freezing window.

Violent, he spat on your back.

The shock of it made you whimper, made your skin burn, made your entire body lock up.

“That’s all you’re fucking good for,” Jungwon muttered, rubbing his hand over the mess, smearing it across your skin before grabbing the back of your neck, pushing your face against the glass.

And then—he fucked you.

Hard. Fast. Unrelenting.

Each thrust pressed you further against the window, your breath fogging up the glass, your body trembling as pleasure and pain blurred together into something unrecognizable.

But Jungwon wasn’t fucking done with you.

He dragged you onto the balcony.

The cool night air kissed your burning skin, but Jungwon didn’t give you time to adjust before he forced you onto your knees, his chest pressed against your back as he spread your legs wide, making sure you were completely exposed to the city below.

“You wanted my attention?” His voice was venomous, sharp, pure dominance. “Then fucking take it.”

His fingers plunged into you, rough, punishing, fucking you open with no mercy, no hesitation.

“Look at you,” he sneered, forcing your head up, making sure your eyes locked on the city skyline, the streets below where anyone could look up and see you. “A desperate little slut, dripping down my fucking hand.”

His fingers curled against that devastating spot inside you, making your thighs shake, making your breath hitch, making you arch helplessly against him.

“You wanna be seen?” His voice was pure sin in your ear, his free hand gripping your throat. “Then fucking scream.”

What were you if not obedient?

You screamed as your orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing, pleasure bursting so violently that liquid gushed from you, soaking his hand, the balcony floor, leaving you shaking, spent, completely wrecked.

Jungwon groaned against your ear, his grip tightening, his hand still working you through the aftershocks.

“Fuck, look at that,” he murmured, rubbing the mess against your thighs, against your clit, overstimulating you until you were sobbing, your body twitching in his grasp. “So fucking pretty.”

Your entire body trembled, your mind completely wrecked.

Only then—only when he was satisfied—did he finally let you rest.

But later, when the night was over, when he had carried you into the warm, soapy bath, his hands gentle as they massaged your sore muscles, he was different.

Soft.

Loving.

His lips brushed over your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice warm, teasing. “Even when you’re a fucking menace.”

You giggled, and he laughed too, his chest shaking against your back, his arms wrapping around you tighter.

“I’m so fucking happy I married you.” His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft, reverent kisses. “Even if you make me insane.”

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

You never learned your lesson.

No matter how many times Niki put you in your place, no matter how many times he warned you that your bratty antics would come back to bite you, you just couldn’t help yourself.

You really pushed him.

It started with small things—ignoring his texts on purpose, pretending not to hear him when he spoke, rolling your eyes at his teasing. But what really set him off was when you stole his hoodie and sprinted across the apartment, laughing over your shoulder as he called your name.

That was your biggest mistake.

Because the second you ran, Niki’s entire demeanor changed.

“Oh, you’re dead,” he muttered under his breath, amusement laced with something darker.

He chased you.

You barely made it to the bedroom before he tackled you onto the mattress, effortlessly pinning you down with his weight, your wrists trapped above your head. His face was close—too close—his grin sharp and smug as you squirmed underneath him.

“You think you’re funny?” His voice was all playful mockery, but the firm grip on your wrists told a different story.

You only pouted in response, refusing to give in so easily. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Niki scoffed. “Nah, you know exactly what you did.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing mischievously. “And now, you have to pay for it.”

Your stomach flipped.

Niki had a habit of punishing you in the worst possible ways—not with pain, not with cruelty, but with something so much more unbearable.

Teasing.

And when he suddenly straddled your hips, pinning you down further, you knew you were screwed.

“You wanna act like a brat?” His fingers suddenly ghosted over your sides, making you jolt. “Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Before you could react, he started tickling you mercilessly.

“NI—NIKI, STOP!” you screeched, thrashing under him, laughter spilling from your lips against your will.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” he teased, his hands never relenting as they roamed over your ribs, your stomach, your hips—every spot he knew made you weak. “Where’d all that attitude go?”

You tried to kick him off, but he was so much stronger than you, effortlessly keeping you trapped beneath him.

“N-Niki, please!”

He smirked. “Please what? I thought you liked messing with me.” His hands finally slowed, giving you a moment to catch your breath—just before he leaned down, lips brushing against your ear.

“You wanna know what your real punishment is?” he whispered, voice lower, deeper.

You shivered.

Niki suddenly grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, pressing them against the mattress while his free hand trailed down your stomach, slow and deliberate.

“You don’t get to touch me.”

Your breath hitched.

He grinned at your reaction, fingers teasing over your thighs without really giving you what you wanted. “You can squirm, you can beg, you can cry—doesn’t matter. You’re not getting anything until I say so.”

Your body ached with frustration. “You’re so annoying,” you huffed.

He just laughed, tilting his head. “Oh? I thought I was so fun to mess with?”

You wanted to argue, but then his fingers brushed exactly where you needed them, and suddenly, words weren’t so easy to find.

But just as quickly as the touch came—he stopped.

You whimpered. “Niki—”

“Shhh,” he cooed mockingly. “You wanna be a brat? Then act like one—squirm all you want, but you’re not coming until I let you.”

And oh, did he take his sweet time.

For what felt like forever, Niki toyed with you, pushing you right to the edge only to pull away at the last second. Every time you got too close, he’d stop completely, watching as you whined in frustration, your body burning with need.

“You��re so easy to break,” he mused, chuckling at your trembling form. “Maybe next time, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

And then—finally, finally—he gave you what you wanted.

But even then?

Even then?

He made sure you paid for it.

Because he didn’t let you come just once.

He made you beg for it.

Over. And over. And over.

Until you were completely, utterly wrecked—panting, spent, boneless under him.

And only then did he loosen his grip on your wrists, kissing your cheek as if he hadn’t just tortured you for the past hour.

“See?” He grinned, nuzzling against your neck. “You should just behave next time.”

You glared at him weakly. “I hate you.”

Niki only laughed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. “You love me.”

And annoyingly enough?

He was right.

Taglist: @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @zzhengyu @ijustwannareadstuff20 @annybah @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @inlovewithningning @mellowgalaxystrawberry @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @somuchdard

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kyanitedragon · 3 days ago

Text

Nuances:

Jock / Nerd / Prep / Goth: Hide's very bright and prep-y fashion wise, and between his hyperfixations and infodumps making him quite nerdy, and his biking and me seeing him as a rather physically active person making him a bit of a jock, I settled on putting him in the middle. // Kaneki's absolutely a nerd, but after becoming a ghoul he became rather buff and consistently keeps it up, so despite not being a jock personality-wise I think that rigor counts for enough, even if his nerdiness will always eclipse all else. // And Touka's more on the casual darker colors side of fashion, and I think she similarly has a lot of training and physical activity she enjoys. But she also seems to have a cute nerdy interest in rabbits, so I didn't put her all the way into jock.

Be gay...: Hide is chaotic, and he's either a crime-solver or crime-causer depending on the day and what it is. Touka is absolutely chaotically getting into trouble and breaking the law. And Kaneki? He tends to be, and consider himself as, a law-abiding man of peace. But like... remember his Anti-Aogiri phase??? Do you see how he gets when he fights? That violent side of him is absolutely still in there, and can be pulled back out.

Showing Affection: Hide and Kaneki both alternate between verbal and physical affection. Hide is very pro-PDA, while Kaneki is shy and likes privacy. Touka prefers privacy, finding it to be no one else's business, but isn't necessarily bothered by PDA. And she's not very verbally affectionate, finding it a bit hard at times.

Greeting Each Other: Yeah Touka is definitely (loving) insults and casuality with her boyfriend(s). I think she'd mostly use casual terms, but occasionally a soft pet name. Hide likes using nicknames, and he alternates equally between "dude"s and pet names. // Kaneki would use nicknames and terms of romantic endearment.

First To Confess: In canon Touka confessed to Kaneki. Unconventionally, but still. And I like the idea of her being the one to initiate and open up a poly relationship post-canon between Kaneki and Hide, starting as a V and soon into a full triangle.

First To Kiss: Touka kissed Kaneki first in canon. And when it comes to Hidekane? Well, given that Hide doesn't have lips anymore, I think any possible "kissing" would need to be heavily talked about and taken slow. But I like the idea of Kaneki asking him a soft and open, "Can I kiss you?" and they go from there.

Dies For The Other: Kaneki and Hide are absolutely the types to fight over the chance to die for the other. Touka, meanwhile, she's anti-self-sacrifice, but she would do it without hesitation if it was ever necessary, so I gave her icon half opacity.

Prone To Hiding Feelings: They all do. Hide is the worst, a constant really good mask of sunshine. Kaneki's also really bad about it, but when it's at its worst you can really tell. Touka is a bit more conditional, she doesn't mind expressing emotions themselves, but whenever she feels vulnerable she is going to bottle that up and not let anyone know. So again she's at half-opacity.

First To Apologize: Hide. He's afraid of confrontation, and so this tends to come out (in an often unhealthy way) of apologizing and putting the argument aside, no matter how serious or if it's not his fault.

"Excuse Me They Asked For No Pickles": Hide for sure. I imagine him doing this all the time when the ghouls get served coffee that's not truly black.

Spoils The Others: I can see Hide being the kind of partner to do surprises and just random bursts of affection. And i think acts of service and gift-giving would be one of Kaneki's love languages, and he'd really like to indulge in his love and spoil his partners.

Wakes Up First: I've always liked the idea of sunshine boy Hide being a morning person, rising with the sun. Kaneki can canonically sleep for days, and I can see Touka being a very grouchy morning person.

"What's Updog?": Yeah it's Kaneki. Hide is the one to prompt it, and Touka is dying of laughter and absolutely in on it.

First To Propose: Kaneki does to Touka in canon. And I think he would pop the question on Hide as well. Kaneki's just kinda the romantic of the trio, and marriage doesn't exactly occur to the others the same way.

Wants Children: Touka, canonically, always wanting a family. I think Kaneki never really thought too deeply about it, being so young, but once it's happening he gets really excited and eager to raise a kid. I think Hide would be rather open to whatever his partner prefers, and in this polyamorous case, he's very happy for the two of them having a baby and is very excited to be something between a second dad and a cool uncle.

Didn't Know They Were Dating: This one is very fun to me. In canon Kaneki sprung that marriage onto Touka, and I always got vibes that she was going for more of a FWB deal. And I ship post-canon Hidetouken in the sense that they both pull Hide into their marriage and Hide has no idea that's their intent for the longest time. And so, surprisingly, Kaneki ends up being the one aware (for once).

Initiates Contact: Hide, being the most physically affectionate person. But between Touka and Kaneki exclusively, Touka is the one to usually take the initiative.

Approached First: Like I said above, Touka canonically was the one to initiate her and Kaneki's relationship, and I like her being the one to suggest and open a poly relationship. And I also really like the idea of Hide having no clue, so Kaneki is the one to suggest the idea to him and he is floored.

Says The L Word First: Hide has the most spontaneity, so I want to say him, although Kaneki and Touka were married for longer before reuniting with him, so it might be one of them. And yet, I kinda like the idea of Hide saying it after they're all together as a throuple, and then Kaneki and Touka both have to pause like "Holy shit wait no one's actually Said That in all this time." They tend to say "i love you" through actions, so it's kinda jarring (in a good way) when it's suddenly said aloud.

The Oblivious One: Kaneki, obviously. But I'm also endeared by Hide turning out to be incredibly oblivious only when it comes to intimate matters. He's an incredibly perceptive person, but he Can Not tell when someone is interested in him.

Brat VS Mom Friend: Touka's a brat, to no one's surprise, although she's not terrible and when comfortable and calm she absolutely has a loving side. She's just very sassy and doesn't let people push her in any sense. // Hide's a total mom friend, I think. He's chaotic when it comes to himself, but others he is absolutely fawning over and protective over and lowkey mother-hen-ing. // Kaneki thinks he's a mom friend but he's not. Not quite. He can be so stubborn and even an asshole at times. (And I love him for it.)

Edgelord VS Ray of Sunshine: Sunshine boy Hide is a ray of sunshine, obviously. He has to be. To me. // I get annoyed with people assuming Kaneki is edgy because of Root A but also like... it's not exactly wrong? There's just a lot of nuance in it. So he's not all the way to the left, but still quite far. // And Touka's just a bit behind him. She's not quite as dark and edgy and depressing, but she definitely has her moments.

So Done VS Pun-tastic: Touka might appreciate one or two puns, but any more than that and she is Done. // Hide really likes the playful nature of jokes and puns. // Kaneki absolutely still retains Haise's love of puns. And I think it's going to suddenly come out strong one day in their relationship and shock his partners. To Hide's joy and Touka's "oh no".

Insomniac VS Early Bird: Kaneki and Hide, as said above. Touka isn't an early riser but she also doesn't have troubles sleeping, except for occasionally after an especially rough day.

The Mature One VS "Bold Words For Someone Standing On Lava": Kaneki is mature and serious, but if he's in the mood he'll engage in some playful stuff. Hide is very playfully immature, but he knows when to be serious when needed. And Touka's usually playful and immature, although it usually comes off in a more playfully aggressive way, like lovingly bullying them or love taps.

Scares Animals VS Animal Whisperer: Touka is scared of birds. And I think she's kind of hit or miss on if she's good at interacting with animals or not. // Kaneki is so gentle that he's a total animal whisperer. // Hide is quite good and his perceptive nature makes it easy to see what'll work and what won't, but he's also Loud and it's hard for him to not be and that's usually his issue.

Stays At Home VS Party Animal: Kaneki is an introvert. And a housewife. Hide's a very social person and he likes and needs interaction. And Touka's in the middle. She likes her quiet time alone but she also likes being a part of a community.

Big Spoon VS Little Spoon: There's two ways to answer this. As a trio, I think Hide would hold Kaneki who holds Touka so that he's in the middle. Kaneki needs to be held and feel loved and wanted, so that's their usual, although they all switch. When it comes to preferences, as said, Kaneki likes to be held. I think Touka would prefer to hold but doesn't mind being held. And Hide is pretty neutral and just goes on whatever the other person needs - he just likes touch, he doesn't really care what role or position.

Kills The Bugs VS Takes The Bug Out: They all are catch and release, for slightly different reasons. Hide's just a bleeding heart. Touka likes bugs. And Kaneki probably used to be half and half, but now that he's a ghoul and likes centipedes, bugs aren't nearly as scary so he'll just kindly relocate them.

Gets Their Clothes Stolen VS Steals Clothes: Touka likes to steal Kaneki's clothes. Hide also likes to steal his clothes, but he also offers them to Kaneki and Touka. Kaneki likes to wear their clothes as well, but he still gets pushed to the left from the utter amount of the others taking his clothes.

Swears Like A Sailor VS Oh Fiddlesticks: Touka swears. Badly. Kaneki used to never swear, but ever since Aogiri he swears badly as well. Hide likes to playfully alternate between legit and funny cusses.

Would Die For Attention VS Independent: Hide craves and needs affection. Kaneki doesn't necessarily need it, but he's very starved for affection. And contrarily, Touka is rather independent and she's quite neutral or even averse on traditional attention.

Would Stab As A Warning: All of them. Touka would be extremely quick to do it, even for minor threats. Kaneki would lash out defensively if ever deemed necessary or triggered. And despite not being a fighter Hide wouldn't hesitate to if ever threatened.

Makes Dinner VS Can't Cook To Save Their Life: Kaneki's a great cook and Touka sucks at it, canonically. I think Hide can do what he likes to eat, but he's not a great cook and he can't do anything fancy.

Responsible Driver VS Don't Let Them Near The Wheel: Touka is a good driver, but she gets road rage. Hide's a good driver, but he can get distracted sometimes. Kaneki, meanwhile, is calm and collected and drives well, so he's the designated driver.

Can Live In A Dumpster VS Clean Freak: Hide's a bit more on the sloppy side, but not terribly so. Touka prefers to be nice and organized but has her rough moments. And Kaneki stays clean and organized and doesn't really ever have any issues keeping up with it.

OT4 & OT3 Ship Meme Template.

Sooo a while ago I made this ship templates and since some people liked them, I decided to make polyship templates as well! Couldn’t add the quote to the OT3 one since it didn’t fit u.u. Click for better quality.

#how i prefer to ship (post-canon) Hidetouken :3 #hidetouken #tg

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reverieblondie · 22 hours ago

Text

Bad Dream

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Nightmares, Mysterious passes, Breaking and entering, Panic attack, Breaking washers, Bucky touches your underwear (whoops...)

Summary: You and Bucky are not only neighbors but friends for months now. You two are close... but are still finding out new things about each other...

Word Count: 2,613

A/N: This was inspired by an amazing request got from an anon. I loved the idea so much that I can see this being turned into a full series if enough people like it! Just let me know! I look forward to feedback like always! and request are always open!

"So... What am I eating?"

Bucky says almost suspiciously as he looks at the macaroni noodle on his fork.

"I can not believe you are so picky," you say, rolling your eyes before taking a delightful bite of the casserole dish you made. Once swallowed, you point your fork accusingly toward Bucky. "It's called tuna mac. It's cheap to make but delicious. Now you can either eat it, or I will stop being such a friendly neighbor and stop sharing my dinners with you."

Bucky chuckles before giving you his signature smirk, "If that's the case, don't come knocking on my door when something of yours breaks again."

You huff, he doesn't play fair.

He watches as you pout and sigh before he takes the macaroni and tuna mix into his mouth. When he eats it, his eyes bulge slightly. "That's actually really good?"

"See, you just need to trust me, neighbor. It's something my mom used to make. Boil noodles, mix up the sauce, and top with cheese. It tastes better than it sounds."

Bucky smiles as you ramble on. When you look over at him, he looks back to his plate, mixing it around as he makes a face before eating more. "That's true. This is way better than that chicken we had last Thursday."

"Hey! We agreed to forget that monstrosity!"

Of course, Bucky laughs at your dramatics, and you can't help but echo it back. Thursday night dinners have become your favorite tradition since moving in; no matter how shitty your week could have been, this always lifts up your spirits, even just a little bit. Most people in your building seem to avoid Bucky; they won't join him in the elevator or even greet him in the mailboxes. They judge his past... but who are you to judge? Though getting to know him didn't happen instantly, it happened because of an accident you might have caused…

You have been fighting with these washers and dryers since you moved in. And now here you are fighting again with the washer. The stupid thing won't spin, and it's starting to flood with water. You paused the cycle and knew that you should just ask the maintenance guy for help, but that has the risk of being blamed for it being broken.

Distracted, you don't notice someone walking in to use the other machines. Honestly, it's surprising someone else is up this late just to do their laundry. So much for not running into anyone while you're dressed in your lazy day pajamas—no bra just to add to the pending embarrassment… Trying your best to keep your head down and fix the machine as silently as possible, you didn't realize that your rattling around has definitely drawn attention.

Until a shadow is cast over you. Turning slightly, you look up at the imposing figure and see your next-door neighbor. James Barnes... Ex Winter soldier and a current Avenger...

His head tilts as he stares down at you, "Problem?"

This is the first time you have really seen him up close… he's much taller than you thought, and his eyes are the clearest shade of blue… While you're silently coking, Bucky shifts on his feet, his scowl deepening as he continues to stare. Mentally, you chastise yourself for being rude and pull your hand from the filled drum to offer him a handshake, stumbling out your name in the process. This was a mistake, however, because you ended up splashing the super soldier with washer water… -Shit…

"I'm sorry, and yeah, I'm just trying to get this washer to work… they never want to act right… old machines acting wonky, what's new?" You huff a laugh, but Bucky keeps looking at you unamused… ah yes… he's an old machine, you idiot…

You quickly take another step closer in panic mode, "Oh! But not all old machines! My grandma had a vacuum for like 20 years, and it never crapped out on her!" -what are you even saying?

Buck just further scoles you, keeping his eyes locked on yours. Honestly, it's a bit intimidating—his intense stare locked onto you. Then there's the fact that his glare doesn't roam—it's just set on your eyes. Plus, you're just rambling on, and he's just watching you like you have lost your mind! You can't afford to move again…

"Why don't you just call for maintenance?" he says in a confused tone, his brows knitting together.

You give him a gentle smile, "I don't want to be blamed for breaking it…"

He doesn't seem too impressed with your excuse as he rolls his eyes, but to your surprise, instead of walking away, leaving you to struggle, he places his laundry down and begins to investigate the machine.

You step closer to him, "So you're going to help me?" you chirp.

"I'm going to try, but if it breaks further, that's on you…" -Okay can't really blame him for that..

"Fair enough, neighbor." he only seems to hum at that before continuing his investigation.

He does his diligence checking everything out; while he does that, you're doing your own checking out. It's not like you're trying to be a perv.... but curiosity always gets the cat in the end, so you allow yourself to check him out a little. His back faces you, and it's incredible how sturdy it appears; you can even see how the muscles ripple with every move despite it being hidden underneath his t-shirt. Then his narrow waist that draws your attention down the length of him, and his arms bulging with every move as it roots around on the inside of the drum. The dark metal arm is so eye-catching you can't help but stare even though you know you shouldn't... If you were caught, you would be modified by how rude it would be. But you can't help yourself from admiring how pretty it truly is… and the craftsmanship is impeccable…

"I think something is just caught if I can unwrap it…" With another pull and a slight groan, he rips out what was caught. Surprisingly, it's Small... red and-

Bucky holds up the dripping wet material, and now that he has it unscrambled, you are mortified... Of course, out of everything to get tangled up and caught, it had to be your thong. Turning it about, Bucky looks at the material confused, unsure, until he meets your mortified eyes and flushed face. It must suddenly click for the man that he's holding a stranger's underwear because, with the inhuman speed, he's met with realization and he's practically throwing your underwear at you like it would bite him.

The flush of his neck and the way he suddenly does not meet your eyes tells you he's thoroughly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, ma'am…" Ma'am? Wow, now he's talking to you properly; he really is embarrassed...

It's quiet for a moment as Bucky awkwardly shifts on his feet. Then you can't help yourself any longer, and you laugh. You laugh so hard you all but fall over yourself, and to your shock, Bucky breaks from his mortification and joins in on your laughter.

The moment lasted for a while until you were both on the verge of tears. As you wipe away your tears, you catch him smiling, and it's like looking at a completely different guy. If people saw this, they wouldn't be avoiding him, that's for sure.

With the washer fixed, you could finish your laundry cycle as Bucky moved to start his. As you're turning to thank your helpful neighbor, he is gone? Scanning the room, you see him leaving, shit!

"James!" You shout without thinking. He pauses before turning back with a small smirk.

"Don't tell me you broke something else."

He's… teasing you? A grin spreads to your face, "I wanted to thank you for helping me out."

He shrugged, "It's no problem. But call me Bucky; when you say James, it makes me feel old." With that, he walked off.

Days later, you were still troubled by the feeling you didn't get to properly thank your neighbor for saving your panties from doom. So you did the only thing you could think of. Making him food. Make sure debts and gratitude are always paid... it's something you picked up from both your parents, but where your dad made sure to do it with favors and money, your mom would always pay by making desserts and meals. So, in your situation, you decided on a platter of brownies.

The look on his face when you knocked on his door was priceless. Of course, he accepted, and thus, the cycle between you two started. You would have a favor, Bucky would help, and then you would make him a meal or dessert. Over time, Bucky's grumpiness was replaced with friendliness, and your friendship got stronger. Even though you had fewer favors, you two continued the tradition of eating a home-cooked meal together once a week until suddenly, it was odd if you were not seeing him.

Like now...

It's been three weeks since you last saw him. It's honestly so lonely in the building without him around. Sure, he's not talkative all the time, and there are still things you know you two have not shared, but it's undeniable this closeness you feel to him.

You just hope you get to see him soon, or you will be forced to break something and force him to come back…

It's another quiet night. It should be a night that you rest easy, drifting far off into dreamland. But you just can't seem to fall asleep. Perhaps it's the fault of a certain super soldier's absence. As you lay pondering whether you should just force yourself to rest or get up and do something until you're tired…

Then, loud bangs from the neighboring wall interrupted the stillness. On instinct, you freeze and try to listen to where the crashing is coming from.

Bucky's place... but that's odd; he's not home. Or did you just miss him? Another crash makes you second guess that it could be a break in…

But who would be dumb enough to break into a super soldier's apartment?

Apparently, you are...

It is technically breaking and entering, but is it bad if you do it for a good reason? What if someone is wreaking his place? What if he's in danger? What will you do if you actually run into someone? You will deal with that once you encounter it…

You ignore that for now as you concentrate on picking the lock... You hated it then, but you're now thankful for the skill at times like this. It clicks with a few more twists, and you're now sneaking through the threshold.

It's the same place you have been in multiple times, but tonight, you see the crumble of blankets on the living room floor, the flipped furniture, the mess of wreckage. Then you see the more heart-aching sight in the room's darkness.

Bucky usually stands tall and has that sly smirk for you with some greeting. Now, he is crouched so small, disheveled, and trembling. Those ocean-blue eyes clenched tightly...

A step towards him immediately has him on the defense, ready to pounce.

But he pauses at the sight of you, confused, rightly so. But you're more distracted by how the outside lights reflect on the streams down his cheeks.

You're about to say something, but his hoarse voice cuts you off before you can, "Get out!".

You should really listen, but as he sinks back to the floor, your feet feel like lead. With a swallow and a steadying breath, you step closer. He should understand by now that you're not one for listening.

Closer now, you can take in his sweat-drenched body and matted hair and how he tries to stop shaking... Thousands of questions flock to you; you just swallow them down. Slowly, you sit close enough to be noticed but not enough to touch him…

Settled beside him, you hold your hand towards him on the floor, making a silent offer. "I'll stay for as long as it takes..."

It could take minutes or hours. There is also the chance of him lashing out, but you will just be silent and patient and let him feel your presence and hear your calm breaths.

You're there for a couple of minutes until a clammy warmth touches your hand. Looking down, you can tell the shaking has stopped a little. You spread your fingers and let him lace them with his own.

"I... don't know what to say..." he mumbles, but you shake your head before meeting his eyes.

"You don't have to explain... We all have scars... Bad dreams. "

"Every night I have bad dreams... Sometimes, I just randomly shake awake."

"Other times, you just lay there waiting for the sun to rise."

The look he gives you tells you he's shared the experience. You shrug and look out the window, "Like I said... bad dreams."

As you two sit there, his shaking slowly stills, but your hand's grip only tightens.

"I'm sorry..." It was such a silent whisper that you almost didn't hear it. Bucky, tired, and a wreck, brought back memories you thought were packed away.

"Don't be sorry. Let's just work on getting you cleaned up. Are you good enough to rinse off?"

Bucky nods before standing up... He walks towards his bathroom but pauses just short... He has his own set of questions he wants to ask... One of them is clear to you... are you going to stay...

"I'll clean for a bit and will brew some tea for, when you get out. Okay?"

He gives a short nod before disappearing. You start placing what you can remember being placed before. It takes you a minute to get everything back in its place. Sure, this place was a mess, but you have had to fix the fallout of worse. Once done, you move on to the kitchen to brew the tea. As the water heats, you just listen to the muffled sound of the shower. Does this happen often? And if so, how have you never noticed before?

Bucky takes longer to wash off than you expected, but ultimately, it's a good thing he took the time for himself. When he finally comes out of the bathroom, he's only in pajama bottoms, a towel resting on his shoulder, and fixing his metal arm back into place. His hair is still dripping wet when he finally plops down on the couch. For a long moment, he's still thinking of what to say, but you just slide the peppermint tea over to him.

Bucky gives a small thank you before he lifts the cup, letting the smell waft to his nose and the cup warm his hand. When he finally takes a sip, you feel like you can breathe again. While he works on his tea, you notice the drops falling from his hair and landing on his skin, causing him to shiver. He didn't even bother to dry his hair, huh? Carefully, you take the towel from his shoulder and softly start to dry his wet hair away. Bucky looks at you curiously as you focus on the task before you.

"Why are you so good at this?"

"Like I said, everyone gets bad dreams. Some worse than others."

He hums before slightly chuckling, "Is that also why you know how to break into apartments?"

The playful tone in his voice makes your heart squeeze, and you can't help but grin, "You're not the only one with secrets, soldier boy."

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hoe4hotchner · 2 days ago

Note

Hey queen! I’m glad you’re doing better after the accident!!! I was wondering one if your taking requests, and two if you are can you write about the reader taking care of Hotch, maybe he got injured in the field and the reader takes him to the hospital and takes care of him at home, or if your feeling ✨spicy✨ the reader sees how stressed he’s been at work and takes care of him one night! Absolutely no pressure, and thank you!!!!

Doctor's orders | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: injury, hospital, slight angst, but more fluff

A/N: Thank you!!! Also you can always check if my inbox is open for request in my bio 💕🤭

You barely heard the nurse’s instructions over the steady beep of the heart monitor. The antiseptic smell of the hospital clung to your nostrils, and despite your best efforts, the tight knot of worry in your stomach refused to unravel.

Aaron lay in the hospital bed, his arm immobilized in a sling, eyes half-lidded from the lingering effects of anesthesia.

“See?” you whispered, brushing a gentle hand over his forehead, pushing away the stray locks of dark hair. “This is what happens when you don’t listen.” Your voice was soft, laced with relief now that you knew he’d be okay.

He managed a weak smile, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “It was… a calculated risk.” Acting like you would've done if you'd been the one lying in his position.

You snorted, grabbed the chair, and dragged it closer to his bedside. “If you call tackling a suspect with a knife ‘calculated,’ I’d hate to see what happens when you’re feeling reckless.”

His eyes slid shut, but his hand shifted toward yours. You took it without hesitation, running your thumb along the rough patches of his knuckles. The silence stretched, comfortable despite the beeping machines around you.

“The doctor said it’s a clean break,” you murmured after a moment, glancing at the chart at the end of the bed. “Fractured clavicle, no significant displacement. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“Lucky would be avoiding the knife entirely,” he murmured, a hint of humor returning to his tone. It wasn't rare for you to hear Hotch joke, but it was rare for him to do it on the job. “Thanks for sticking around.”

You squeezed his hand, a smile breaking through your mock sternness. “Well, someone has to make sure you follow the discharge instructions.” You tilted your head, letting your voice drop into a whisper. “And I don’t trust you not to push yourself too hard.”

His eyes opened, meeting yours with that familiar intensity. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

You didn’t quite believe him, but you nodded anyway. “Good. Let’s get you home.”

By the time you got him settled on the couch, Hotch was grumbling about his forced rest. You fluffed a pillow behind his back, ignoring his pointed look. “Don’t give me that face,” you said, hands on your hips. “Doctor’s orders—rest, fluids, and no paperwork for at least a week.” The last part was your own addition to his bedrest orders, but he didn't need to know that.

“That’s excessive,” he muttered, though he didn’t resist as you draped a blanket over him.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you replied smoothly as you brought over a glass of water, holding it out. “Drink.”

He took it, his fingers brushing against yours. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not every day I get to boss around Unit Chief and SSA Aaron Hotchner.” You softened, sitting beside him. “I’m just glad you’re okay. When I saw you go down…”

His hand found yours again, a silent reassurance. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Don’t I know it,” you teased, though your eyes glistened. You pulled yourself together, changing the subject. “You hungry? We still have leftovers from last night.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “A little.”

A short while later, you returned with a bowl of soup, carefully blowing on a spoonful before offering it to him. Hotch huffed but accepted, too tired to argue.

“This isn’t necessary,” he said between bites, though the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Just indulge me,” you replied, gently dabbing at a drop that clung to his chin. “Besides, someone has to make sure you’re eating properly.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You’re relentless.”

“And don’t you forget it,” you quipped, setting the bowl aside once it was empty.

As you cleared away the dishes, Hotch’s voice stopped you in your tracks. “Thank you. For everything.”

You turned, meeting his gaze. “I’ll always be here to take care of you.” You paused, grinning. “Even if you don’t listen to me.”

He reached for your hand, pulling you down beside him. “I’m listening now.”

“Good,” you whispered, leaning into him. “Because this time, you’re under my care.”