#like. this will break him. but i need to see HOW he acts when hes broken

[enhaflixer]

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

[kyanitedragon]

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.

[reverieblondie]

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." 

[hoe4hotchner]

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.”

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.”

[softsunnyy]

i'm thinking about Quinn, who tries to be sweet, patient. He doesn't want you to feel forced. He sees you as too adorable, too delicate. He can even feel the softness on your skin when he touches you. He can see how fragile you look next to him. He could break you so easily. Destroy you.

that's why it was such a surprise the first time he saw you wearing a tank top, without your bra underneath, giving him a better view not only of your tits, but of one special detail as well.

your fucking nipples. They're pierced.

his mouth goes dry, and he's grateful to be in your house, because it allows him to act quickly. Quinn doesn't ask, his hands grip your waist, and from that moment on, almost every rational element leaves his mind.

he goes wild, primal. He needs to have you right now.

he kisses you, showing everything he's feeling, listening to you moan against his lips, clearly surprised.

oh, why did he wait so long? now he wants to destroy you, he wants to use you, play with your tits until he's bored, until you ache, until your nipples are so hard and sensitive that you beg him to stop and tend to your soaking pussy.

he wanted to be gentle, to give you your time, to let it be special and unforgettable. All that's gone. His hands roam your body as if you were his personal whore. In his mind, right now you are, you are everything.

he lays your body down on the couch and rips off your clothes without giving you much time to breathe. He wants to see you, needs to see all of you now that he knows.

when your breasts are exposed, a growl leaves his mouth. His cock throbs, desperate to get out of his pants, to bury itself inside you and merge with your gummy walls.

he licks, sucks, plays with your tits, playing with your nipples while your moans fill your living room. One of your hands tangled in his hair, and he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge of abandoning any kind of care.

he leaves his marks everywhere.

you whimpered his name, desperate, trying to close your legs as you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. His body prevents you from closing them, but he unconsciously tries to help you, thrusting against your pussy, making you feel his hardness beneath his clothes.

your nipples are hard, too hard, and Quinn handles them without delicacy, enjoying the cold metal on his tongue, enjoying torturing you, driving you crazy.

why did you hide this from him? now you'll have to face the consequences of your actions. There will be time to ask questions later, now you'll have to endure it.

you pull at his hair, trying to move him away from your breasts, but nothing seems to work. Quinn pulls away only when he feels it's enough, feeling his pants soaked. When he looks at them, he realizes it's your fault. You tried to rub, to get some more pleasure, and now his pants were stained. Fucking wet.

he's fast, agile, he doesn't need to get up right now and throw his pants down, he just needs to get his cock out.

when he starts fucking you, it's not gentle, it's not sweet, it's nothing like he was planning. It's rough, wild, inconsiderate. He's using you, because your own pleasure was left behind the moment you decided to keep this from him. Now he's going to cum, he's going to fill you up. You'll have to leave his cum inside you, and don't even dare let it drip too much.

and your tits—oh, i hope you didn't think he was finished, because Quinn wants to bathe them, soak them with his cum. He wants to leave his mark, he wants his cum to dry there.

this is your fault, he wanted to be sweet and patient, why did you hide this from him?

[shanastoryteller]

Thirteen Magpies

Dean’s pissed and trying to act like he isn’t. Sam’s head is throbbing and aching, there’s still blood crusted in the corner of his eyes, and he doesn’t have the energy to try and fix this right now.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Dean. He’s thought of telling him ever since his brother pulled him from the fire, since he opened his eyes and realized he was living in his nightmare. But he can’t, the risk versus the reward is too great.

There’s no point, anyway. Jessica’s dead. Whatever freaky dreams he had, whatever he should have done to prevent it – none of it matters.

Letting his brother know that he’s a freak, that he might be something like the things they hunt, won’t get him anything. Dean thinks he’s mad now? If he knew Sam’s secret, mad wouldn’t begin to even cover it.

So he lets Dean make jokes he doesn’t mean, ignores the twitch in his jaw, and falls asleep fully clothed, boots still on right there on the covers. He really is that exhausted, but mostly it’s to gauge how angry his brother really is.

If he wakes up with his boots still on, no blanket thrown over him, he’ll know to tread lightly for the next few days.

~

“We got a live one.”

Dean flicks his eyes up from the map to Risa is leaning against the doorway. When she doesn’t say anything further, he raises an eyebrow. She knows better than to waste his time.

She shrugs. “He’s pretty freaked, it’s weird. He doesn’t seem to have any idea what’s going on, but he’s not infected from what we can tell.”

Well, she usually knows better than to waste his time.

“Probably better to gank him just in case,” he says, already focusing back on the map. There’s nothing around here but the infected, the military, and them. Soon there won’t even be that.

She hesitates. “He’s pretty young. And scared.”

So what? Aren’t they all? Hell, he’s thirty five. He’s still young, although he hasn’t felt it in years.

There’s a crash, and then Chuck is pushing Risa aside, eyes wide and panicked. Tension coils in Dean’s gut, even before Chuck says, “You need to see this.”

Fuck, fine. Whatever.

He’s so tired. Of this, of them, of everything. His only solace is that he won’t have to deal with it much longer.

He tucks a gun in the back of his waistband, giving them both a dark look as he stalks past. Does he really have to do everything around here? With his luck they’ve brought a crote right into camp who’s about to feral and start bleeding on people any second and they’re going to have to deal with a damn outbreak right in the middle of the base –

What the hell.

His chest is tight. He should be doing something, shooting him, giving orders, something, but just then all the air leaves his lungs.  

“Dean!” Sam shouts, relief breaking out over his face.

This isn’t the Sam of a couple years ago, or even five years ago when he saw him last – really saw him, saw Sam. This is how Sam looked when he picked him up at Stanford, broad and tall but still gangly and young, the strength of his muscles long instead of bulging. There’s a sweetness to his face that hunting had carved away within the first year, or maybe that was visions or the demon or whatever else Dean failed to protect him from. Sam breaks away from the hands gripping his elbows to the shock of James, who probably thought he’d had a good grip on the kid, and hurries towards him, which is when he sees that Sam is in dirty socks and a pair of slides that look to be a couple sizes too small. What the hell? Dean should stop him. It’s not really Sam. It can’t be.

“Thank god, I woke up alone and I thought, uh, never mind. What the hell is going on…” He trails off as he gets closer, squinting. He looks Dean up and down then reaches out and pokes him in the corner of his eye by his temple.  

Several people gasp. He can’t make himself look away, even as all the ways this is impossible, all the tricks it could be, run through his mind. It looks real. Is this a trick from Lucifer? But the base is warded against angels and demons and anything in between. No one but a human could walk in here. A witch? If there are any witches left, they’re hiding somewhere nowhere can find them. What would they gain by looking like his little brother at twenty two?

“You’re old,” Sam says, half delight and half incredulity. It makes him think of when he fell into that swamp when they were kids and Sam laughed himself sick after he helped him out. “Dude, did you piss off a witch or something? Were you trying to sleep with her? You really have to learn when to love them and when to leave them.” His gaze rises a little higher. “Got any grey hairs?”

He sounds like Sam.

“Okay, buddy, that’s enough,” James says, stepping forward gun first.

Sam reacts automatically, no longer hunched next to Dean, but straightening to his full height of nearly six and half feet and as he steps in front of him. He knocks Dean an extra inch behind him even though he doesn’t have a weapon or shoes or any clue what’s going on.

Something inside of him that he thought was long dead breaks and resets.

Yeah, that’s Sammy.

People always got it wrong. If this were someone’s idea of a trick, they would have had Sam looking to him for protection and asking for his help. Dean was notorious for being over protective, after all, always taking the hit, always making himself a target. That’s what people remembered.

Sam tolerated it at best.

He let Dean take the lead when he was comfortable. When he felt safe. He didn’t argue about Dean going in first or playing bait only because it wasn’t worth the effort, only because it meant that Sam was at his back and could cover him if something went wrong. He put up with Dean’s control freak tendencies until he didn’t, until he got stressed or pissed or scared, and then all bets were off and good fucking luck to anyone that got in his way.

But the Sam in front of him looks like shit, he clearly doesn’t know what’s going on, and he apparently woke up in apocalypse alone and somehow managed to get here. He’s probably a great combination of stressed, pissed, and scared right now and Dean may looks older, but he’s still him, the only familiar thing in this unfamiliar world.

Of course Sam sees a gun pointed in their direction and steps in front of him. Of course he doesn’t bother playing small like usually does, using ever scrap of intimidation he has even though he’s weaponless.

His brother at the end of his rope wouldn’t do anything else.

He’s not going to be an idiot about this, he’s still going to check, but every instinct he has is telling him that this is Sam.

How the fuck is it Sam?

He's drowning, he's suffocating, he wants to get his hands on Sam, wants to shake him, wants to bruise him just so he knows he's real.

He's practiced at not getting what he wants.

“Down,” he says to James, his voice coming out even and steady despite everything. He points the gun to the ground almost before Dean’s finished speaking. “Everyone, as you were. Sam, with me.”

“Who died and put you in charge?” Sam bitches, still glaring at James. He sticks close, looking around the camp curiously, eyes catching on all the symbols that he doesn’t recognize.

You did, he thinks, and almost laughs, except for the way it’s not funny at all. They head to his cabin and he pointedly ignores all the looks they’re getting. Little hard to bring a giant back without anyone noticing. He points the table. “Sit.”

“Do I look like a dog to you?” Sam asks, crossing his arms and not sitting. “Dean, what the hell is going on! What is this place? Where is everyone? What’s wrong with the people out there? Why are you old?”

“Just,” he lets out a harsh breath. For fuck’s sake. “Can you not argue with me and do what you’re told for one minute?”

Sam glares at him, but must see something in Dean’s face that sways him because he huffs and nods. Then he ruins it by literally setting his watch and saying, “One minute.”

He still doesn’t sit down.

Christ. He’d forgotten how much of a little shit Sam used to be. He should probably restrain him for this, just in case, probably shouldn’t have brought him back alone, it’s just.

He thinks it might actually be Sam. A Sam, anyway. He goes through salt, holy water, iron, and silver. It takes longer than a minute, but Sam seems intrigued enough to go with it. Some of these tests are brand new to him. In the end, all it gets him is an irritated eye roll. “If you’re really Sam,” he says, “tell me something only the real Sam would know.”

“If?” he repeats, rolling back around from intrigued to irritated. It’s the same little brother annoyed face that Dean knows so well, lips pursed and eyebrows pushed together.

He’s missed Sam so much.

“If it’s occurring to you that you should have been concerned about me being me, don’t worry about it,” he says tiredly. “You can test me too.”

Sam’s nose scrunches. “Don’t be stupid. You’re you. Just old and sort of bitchy.”

His lip almost twitches at that.

Sam looks around again, chewing on his bottom lip. “Dean, what year is it?”

He thinks a lot of things in his life would have been easier if he’d had a dumber brother. “What year is it for you?”

Sam glares. For a moment Dean thinks he’s going to refuse to answer until Dean tells him what’s going on, but he says, “2005. We just finished dealing with Bloody Mary.”

Fuck. That’s barely a month after Jessica.

It could still be a trap. He doesn’t believe it, hasn’t believed it from the moment he saw him. “Tell me something only Sam would know.”

He throws up his hands. “How would I know that? I’m clearly in the future, somehow, or crazy, and either way I don’t know what you or other people don’t know. Ask me something only I would know. You’d know better than me.”

Dean thinks that makes sense. Maybe. But he’s drawing a blank, trying to go back ten years in his memories to remember what secrets they’d shared then, and if any of them are still a secret now, and nothing’s coming to mind.

Sam softens, holding his hands open. “Come on, Dean, it’s me. I know that you’re you. Can’t you tell that I’m me?”

Yes. But Sam had always been better at that than he was. He'd known within three seconds that the skinwalker hadn’t been him, even though they’d only been back on the road together a few months at this point. Sam had never been able to explain to him how he’d clocked it so quickly, only that it had been obvious.

No one else knows him that well. Never have, never will.

It’s obvious to him that this is Sam. But it’s stupid to rely on his gut. It’s betrayed him before.

“Fuck,” he groans, running a hand over his face. This Sam hasn’t even faced a skinwalker yet. “Okay, fine, Jesus.”

Sam grins, smug in his victory in a way that makes Dean want to go over there and give him a noogie like they’re kids again. He wants to pretend for one second that not everything is misery and shit.

Christ, Sam basically is a kid right now. He’s only twenty two. Dean’s hit just then with the enormity of what Sam doesn’t know. They haven’t even met Missouri yet. He doesn’t know about Azazel, about the other psychic kids, about his powers, about what the demon did to him. He doesn’t know about angels, doesn’t know about Lucifer, or all the terrible fucked up things waiting for him.

“How did you get here?” he asks quietly, can feel the panic clawing at his throat. It’s too much. Sam is here. He was never supposed to see Sam again. His brother is long gone.

His brother is right in front of him.

Even if it’s not a trick, it is a trap. The day before he’s set to finally retrieve the Colt and kill Lucifer for good, a kid version of his brother appears? He doesn’t know the angle just yet, but he knows that there is one.

It was supposed to be over. He was going to finally be free.

But he can’t leave Sam in this piece of shit world alone. Not again.

“Beats me,” Sam shrugs. “I went to bed next to you and woke up in a different motel and met some rabid people and ran and ended up here and then I saw you. Nothing was weird or different before, or at least nothing I noticed. Will you tell me when I am now?”

“2015,” he says finally, watching Sam’s face, bracing for a freak out but also unsurprised when it doesn’t happen.

When the chips are down, Sam’s never been anything but steel.

“Huh,” he says finally, eyes downcast. He nods, more to himself than to Dean, than lifts his head to look him in the eye. “Where’s Dad?”

Will the thought of his father ever stop hurting? Probably not. Especially not now. He’s looking the baby brother he was supposed to save in the eye and he failed. He failed to save him and now he has to go and kill him.

If there were any mercy left on earth, Dean would have died the moment Sam said yes in Detroit.

He shakes his head.

Sam’s face crumples briefly before he rallies, swallowing down the grief that’s all too clear to Dean. “Yeah, probably should have figured that out as soon as I saw you barking orders. Okay. Where am I? Future me?”

Dean tries to control his face, to keep it impassive and empty, but by the way Sam jerks back like he’s been hit, he knows that he failed. He’s good at this normally. Really good, in fact. Maybe he still is, he’s just forgotten how well Sam used to be able to read him.

“Oh, man,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

He jerks his eyes to Sam’s, searching his expression. Does he know? Has the same thing that brought him here also told him something of what they were throwing him into?

“How did I – no, don’t tell me,” he decides. “Are you okay? I didn’t even like the idea of you hunting alone, never mind this.”

Sam thinks he’s dead.

It’s almost a relief.

“Fine,” he says.

Sam gives him a look. “Yeah, your whole family’s dead and the world's gone to shit, you’re clearly doing great. I don’t know why I even asked.”

Dean smiles. It’s been a long time. The muscles feel unused.

He still wants to touch him. But he can't. Once he starts, he doesn't think he'll be able to stop.

Sam stares at him for a long moment, eyebrows raised. “Are you crazy?”

“Probably, yeah,” he says, feeling the urge to laugh in his chest, another forgotten sensation. He’d forgotten how much Sam used to backtalk. The demon, Dad’s death, his deal, what Sam had gone through when he’d been gone, fucking Ruby. It had all worked to stomp out his brother’s attitude, to grind down Sam in a way that John Winchester had tried and fail to achieve for nineteen years.

In some ways it feels like he lost Sam long before he released Lilith. He’d feel guilty about it, but Sam probably feels the same way about him.

Felt the same way. Sam’s not feeling much of anything right now, with Lucifer walking around in his skin.

[fixated-cookies]

different anon but imagine pure vanilla (bonus if awakened) and reader ganging up on shadow milk for revenge :) giving the jester a taste of his own medicine

Awaken pure vanilla...drools

that man is so gentle, it is hard to believe that even when he's jealous he's still compassionate. in fact is kinda poetic in a way, Shadow Milk Cookie, the one who always desires control, being put in the exact position he’s put others in? Now that’s a show worth watching. also, this is a reference from my previous post

WARNING- Smut, cuckolding

Pure Vanilla, normally so forgiving, so gentle, even in his jealousy, he doesn’t act cruelly. But he can be merciless in kindness. This is what makes is dangerous for Shadow Milk, no matter how much he squirms, or taunts "You can do better than that!" while he seethes in jealousy, Pure Vanilla simply smiles. A soft, knowing smile as he gently turns the tables. And you? Oh, you’re right there alongside Pure Vanilla. Feeding into his calm dominance, playing along so sweetly that it drives Shadow Milk up the wall. Kissing him and loving up on him like you're basically getting your marriage consummated right in front of him. Holding hands while he ruts into your wet tightness creates a frustration and envious feeling with shadow milk's souljam. two against one. So unfair, isn’t it?

This isn’t how the game is supposed to go. He is supposed to be the one orchestrating the scene, pulling the strings, controlling the script! But now? Now, he’s nothing more than a bitter spectator to your little performance with Pure Vanilla, and it burns...and makes his cock ache, just a little

He doesn't even need to gloat about it. his gentle touches, his soothing voice, the way he hums in contentment as you dote on him, riding him into your own ecstasy with your sweet and lovely moans and mewls. He knows Shadow Milk is watching, knows it’s tearing him apart, and yet he remains as warm and kind as ever. "Oh, Shadow Milk," he murmurs with that infuriatingly gentle tone, looking at him over your shoulder while he rubs your back. His hand strokes your back in slow, tender motions, guiding you, cherishing you, worshiping you as you gasp and tremble in his grasp. Nothing like the harsh fuck Shadow Milk put you through earlier...

Shadow Milk glares at him, biting his lip as he sits restrained in the very same chair, as punishment. He sees you glance at you glance at him over your shoulder, grinding yourself onto his length, you lock eyes at him while giving him a slight flustered smirk, Pure Vanilla moans, deep and unrestrained, his hands gripping your waist with the kind of reverence that only makes Shadow Milk seethe more. you teasing little—! "Surely, you're not jealous?" Pure Vanilla's voice interrupt his thoughts. its not an accusation, its an observation. And oh, does that make his jam boil.

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair.

His lips curl into a snarl, but his breath stutters, his mask slipping—just for a second. You just keep going. Keep smiling. Keep taunting him without a single word, driving him up the walls with nothing more than your movements and your gaze. tugs at his restraints, hard, his breath coming in uneven puffs. He should look away, should focus on breaking free, should think of some grand, poetic way to turn the tables—but he can’t.

Not when the show is this good.

--

I need them both to destroy my cunt so bad!

[gojoidyll]

MYDEI GETS ANGRY AT YOU, or when Mydei says something to you that's hurtful when all you're trying to do is show that you care.

angst, mydei x fem!reader, arguments, mydei is kind of mean here, fluff at the end, etc.

“I- I’m sorry Mydei, I really didn’t mean anything wrong by-“

He silenced you by taking a step forward, that lone action striking fear in you as you took a step back, the back your thighs hitting the bed as you lost your balance and ended up falling into the mattress, but you were quick to sit up as Mydei looked down at you.

“You’re always sorry,” he bit, “but you don’t understand at all. You do not understand the choices I have to make or the responsibilities that I bear, and yet you preach about how I need rest or need to take a break when you don’t even know what I do to keep you and everyone else safe,” he snapped at you, barred his teeth, lashed out.

You knew he was stressed, and all you wanted to do was to help…

“I- I’m sorry,” you managed to choke out as tears began to bubble up at the corners of your eyes before cascading down your cheeks. Your lips doing that quivering thing they always do when you start to cry ugly tears.

“Tch, and now you’re crying,” he turned away from you, “if you stopped nagging at me and stopped being so damn clingy and acting like you know what’s best for me then you wouldn’t be crying so damn much.”

He went to leave and you called after him, asking him where he was going.

“Out, your crying is annoying. I need some peace and quiet since you talk so much.”

You bit back anything you had left in your mouth in fear that he would turn around and have even more to share with you. And when you couldn’t hear his footsteps echoing any longer and even a loud slam of a door, you fell back into the bed, your tears coming out faster and harder than before.

When you see him again, you’ll apologize. You didn’t want him to be angry at you for long.

You curled up on his side of the bed, your hands reaching for the covers as you pulled them over you in a mock embrace. You sniffled as you closed your eyes in hopes that sleep could put your mind at ease…

Meanwhile, Mydei was taking his frustration out on multiple training dummys which didn’t go unnoticed by a certain deliverer.

“Don’t you think they had enough,” Phainon mused as he watched Mydei hack yet another head off. The straw made head falling a little away from them due to how much force Mydei had used to cut it off.

“Not now deliverer. I’m not in the mood.”

Phainon watched as Mydei cut off another dummy’s head, his eyes scanning the man carefully – he observed Mydei’s body language, saw how his fist would punch a hole into a dummy’s stomach straight through before moving onto the next. Only one person could get Mydei so worked up.

“Did you fight with your wife again?”

Phainon had to hold back a laugh at the way Mydei so visibly tensed. It was just too easy to read the kremnoan man.

“Well,” Phainon pressed, “you should make up with her soon, fighting with her will do you no good.”

Mydei unclenched his fists before sighing heavily, “I do not believe she wishes to see me.”

“Why is that?”

Mydei glanced to Phainon and weighed his options, but decided to talk to the man anyway as he was … the closest person he could talk to about this. So he recounted the argument with Phainon, and much to his displeasure, by just looking at Phainon’s face he could see just how much he messed up.

“Friend, I am going to say this as kindly as possible… you messed up.”

“Tch,” Mydei crossed his arms over his chest as he looked away, “I already know that.”

Phainon sighed, “how long has it been since the argument?”

“This morning.”

It was already well passed noon.

Phainon shook his head as he gestured to the exit of the training grounds, “you better hurry on back to her.”

Mydei didn’t even need anymore convincing as he rushed home. Many in the streets wondered what at the kremnoan prince in such a rush, but he paid them no mind as he ran home to you.

Bursting through the doors, he went into each room he came across, but you were nowhere in sight. It wasn’t until he reached your shared room did he find you under the covers and curled up on his side of the bed, right where he had left you. Were you waiting for him to come back?

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he went up to you and kneeled beside the bed. He reached for your face as he brushed the stray hair from your face, your eyes were puffy and cheeks dried with tears. Regret was filled inside of him.

“Y/n,” he called for your gently as he ran his fingers along your cheek, the cool metal of his gloves waking you up as you groggily opened your eyes.

“Mydei?”

When you saw his face, your eyes were immediately started to fill with tears again, he was quick to wrap you up in a hug as he pulled you close into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he tried not to strain those words as he apologized, tried to even make it sound soothing as he held you, “please do not cry. I was a cruel man with what I said to you, all because you were worrying about my well-being.”

You sat up a little and wrapped your arms around his waist, “I’m sorry too,” you said quietly, “I knew you were stressed and tried to help instead of giving you space.”

Mydei shook his head, “I don’t ever want you to give me space. I should have listened to you, please forgive me.”

He knew words alone would not fix what he had said and done. He knew that he scared you today, he could see it in your eyes earlier that morning when you were trying to back away from him. You were … afraid … of him.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

[pinkydee10]

Rose (what I’ve started calling EAPS Roxanne) was probably the best person to be there for Eclipse in this moment. She’s been watching first hand all Eclipse is going through trying to get Jake and Andy back, even blaming herself when Vincent managed to escape last time

She just let Eclipse break down and cry because in the end, that’s probably what he’s been needing. I’m not even sure when’s the last time he’s actually rested.

Poor Eclipse is so not used to physical affection and comfort that his first reaction to Rose moving closer was to defend himself

Then when he said “They’re all I have.” God that just broke me

Sure he has Charlie and Andrew, but I think what he means is that Jake and Andy were the first people to genuinely care about him without expecting anything in return and him the same

Andrew just attached himself to Eclipse one day and Charlie was forced onto him. But Jake genuinely just liked and wanted to be around him. Andy was surprised that Eclipse wanted to help him as well as Jake.

Honestly I think Eclipse sees a bit of himself in both. Jake acts like how he once was when he first gained consciousness, scared, confused, yet so innocent. Andy acts like how he was afterwards, angry at a situation he was forced into and wanting to punish everyone around him for it.

I really hope Rose manages to get the others to step up and help Eclipse anyway they can. He needs his kids back. He needs them safe in his arms. He may not think he’s a dad but he’s their’s.

[sweetdispatch]

https://www.tumblr.com/sweetdispatch/776300941286703104/v-bakery-500-celly

1 piece of lava cake with peppermint ice cream and crushed almonds

Summer confession - N. Hischier

v' bakery pairing: Nico Hischier x fem!reader summary: You and Nico have known each other since you were kids, with years the feelings were growing but none of you made a move until this changed one summer warning: swear words note: inspired by "bones" & special dedication to @deviledhischier who i promised to post this yesterday but messed up:((

Since childhood, you and Nico have been inseparable. Everything you’ve been doing together. He was helping you with your homework and you were going on his hockey games. While growing up nothing changed between the two of you.  The only thing that changed were feelings. You fell hard for Nico and he fell hard for you. Although none of you admit this to each other. 

Your and his family knew that you two are gonna end up together sooner or later. Everyone could see that you are sharing mutual feelings. The same with your and his friends. They wanted you two to be a couple because they knew you are endgame. Instead of telling each other what both of you feel to each other, you two were bottling the feelings inside thinking that the other person is not interested. 

That’s the exact reason why you were dating other guys and he was dating other girls. Both of you were hurt when you found out that the other person had someone but never admitted it. Always acting like everything’s alright and trying to help while there was a crisis in someone’s relationship. 

The contact between both of you died a little bit when Nico moved to America. It was difficult to find any time to talk. In reality, you two were seeing each other only during summer. Everyone was hoping that this summer is the moment when one of you is gonna admit their feelings to another but this never happened. In fact, something worse happened. 

When you finally were ready to say to Nico what you feel to him, he came for summer with his new girlfriend. She was a beautiful and kind soul and you knew exactly why he was in love with her. That’s why you couldn’t break what these two have because you were ready to tell him that you love him. You couldn’t do this to your friend. 

This summer was painful for you because you were seeing all their cute interactions between each other. You wished it was you. You regretted not telling him earlier and now you needed to deal with this pain. You wanted to be happy for Nico but you couldn’t. You were jealous that there’s someone different in his life who gets all his attention. 

Nico, unaware of your feelings towards him, needed to hide his feelings for you. He was madly in love with you but knowing that you two barely work as friends since he’s in America, he never addressed them. He thought that moving on and finding another girl that will help with that will be easier. It wasn’t. When he saw you this summer, he regretted bringing this girl.

It was the last weekend before everyone was going back to their places. You saw Nico sitting cosy with his girlfriend near the bonfire and couldn’t stand this view. You excused yourself and went back home. In the kitchen you spotted Nico’ sister and talked with her. She knew your feelings towards Nico and knew that you feel uncomfortable around him since he brought his girlfriend. 

You two were talking about your feelings for Nico and how you two are never gonna be together because he sees only a friend in you. What you didn’t know was the fact that Nico was standing in the kitchen entry. You and his sister stayed with backs facing the door frame. Nico was standing there and listening  to your confession. This made him happy but he knew that he had to have this conversation with you. 

You turned around to leave the kitchen and then you spotted him. You didn’t know how much he heard but you wanted to disappear in a moment. His sister knew that you two needed to sort things out and left you two alone. You didn’t want to start talking so Nico did it. 

“I heard everything you said about me” Nico said softly. You only nodded your head. You wanted to run from this room and escape this conversation. “I share the same feeling to you” When those words left Nico’ mouth, you only laughed. 

“Then why did you bring her with you?” You asked him. Nico didn’t say a word. “I want an answer” You said more firmly this time. Nico took a deep breath. 

“To forget about you” Nico admitted, ashamed. He realised that it was a bad move. 

“Let me get this straight. You have feelings for me but you also want to forget about me. Makes great fucking sense Hischier” You were annoyed with him and started walking to leave the kitchen. Nico grabbed your wrist to stop you. 

“I love you and it hurts me. I was all the time confident that you don’t feel anything for me and trying to move on was easier than being here, scared to do anything” You looked at him after he finished his sentence.

“I wanted to tell you this when you arrived, you know. I was prepared to tell you about my feelings but when I spotted you with her… I couldn’t. You look happy with her and I didn’t want to break your happiness” You ripped your hand from his grip and left him there. 

Nico was thinking all night about your confession. He felt ashamed of himself and didn’t know what to do. He was willing to break with this girl just to make you his. After many years, he was finally sure of his feelings and now he felt like everything was ruined. He didn’t even know how to fix it. The next day, Nico asked you to have a talk with you. At first, you didn’t want to talk but decided to go anyway. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did. I know I should tell you about my feelings earlier and then move on. I should have confronted you and I regretted that I didn’t do it. I regret that we had the conversation in those circumstances. I have nothing in my defence. You can hate me all you want but that’s the truth” Nico said in one breath. You slightly smiled at him. 

“I don’t hate you. I’m sorry too. I could tell you this years ago but I didn’t have the bravery. Both of us were running away from each other feeling scared to admit to them” You hugged him and he happily hugged you back. 

“I will break up with her when we are in America. I don’t want to do it here but trust me. I want to make you mine. Officially” Nico smiled at you. 

“Let’s just see when this will go. No rush, let’s just enjoy it and see if we can make it over a long distance. How does it sound?” You asked him. You didn’t want to run into a relationship to break up after a month because you two can’t schedule your time. 

“Sounds great” Nico kissed your cheek. It was a huge step for both of you.

[luv-lock]

Angeellll my dearest writer♡ I hope you're doing well, if there's any haters not giving you a peace of mind. Just remember that a lot of us likes you!!

Okay so here's my question!

How would Alien!Reader reacts to Anissa? Cus y'know what she did to Mark in the comic- you can ignore this ask if you're not comfortable to write it❀♡

BUT if you do write about it! I would really love to see Reader going Qu mode on Anissa and 'fixes' her cus Mark didn't deserve that :'((

Okay, so first off—thank you! That means a lot, really. People like you are the reason I keep sharing my stuff.

Now, onto your question. How would Y/n react to Anissa?

So, here’s the thing—Y/N’s entire race doesn’t operate on the same moral framework as humans do. To her, sex is just another function—something as instinctual and necessary as eating or breathing. Males don’t get a say, because in her mind, that’s not how things work.

Like, imagine trying to explain to her why what Anissa did to Mark was so disgusting. Y/n wouldn’t understand why that’s bad—because in her species, the males don’t get a say in whether they want to mate or not. They’re brainless slaves. They exist to serve. To be used. She literally wouldn’t comprehend why Mark would be against sex if he was meant for it.

At first, when she hears what happened, she’d just stare at him blankly, trying to figure out why he’s so affected. Maybe it’d even irritate her a little, because what the fuck does he mean by “I didn’t want it?” Like. That’s not how it works.

But when she actually sees his reaction—sees how much it broke him, how he flinches at her touch instead of leaning into it, sees the cracks in him that weren’t there before—ohhh, that would piss her off.

Like, yeah, it pissed her off, but more in a “How dare you take what’s mine” way. Not in a moral “that’s horrible” way. In her mind, if a male is strong enough, he fights off anyone weaker than him. That’s what’s supposed to happen. The fact that Mark didn’t fight back just tells her how pathetic he is—but pathetic in a way that makes her mad rather than disgusted. How dare he let someone other than her do that to him? He’s supposed to be hers. No one else should have been able to touch him, let alone violate him. She doesn’t get why it made him upset exactly, but she understands enough to know that it enrages her.

Because, see, Y/N is a monster in the truest sense of the word. Sure, she’s intelligent, but emotionally, she’s an animal first and foremost. Cold, cunning, but still ruled by primal instincts. She knows how to act like a human when it suits her, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t empathize—she claims people, consumes what’s weak, and destroys what angers her. And Anissa? She’s a rival predator, a lesser one, one that dared to lay claim to something Y/N sees as hers. That’s the part that gets under her skin the most. The idea that Mark is hers—her pet, her mate, her property, her obsession—and someone had the audacity to steal from her? Yeah, no, Anissa just signed her own death sentence.

And that’s when she decides Anissa needs to suffer.

Does she rip her apart right then and there? No. That would be too easy. Too merciful. She’s the apex predator, the undisputed top of the chain, and this? This arrogant, lesser creature dared to touch what’s hers? She’d take her time.

And Anissa gets something special. Y/N tears her apart and rebuilds her into something that’s more to her liking. Her bones extend and curl, her limbs break and reform, her mouth stretches wide in a silent, soundless scream as her body becomes an amalgamation of all the failures that came before her. Clawed hands twitch, a second head nearly forms and then melts back into the grotesque new flesh as Anissa loses herself in endless, endless pain. A writhing, grotesque, ever-changing form of flesh and bone that never settles—never finds peace. A perpetual state of transformation. She molds Anissa into something that can’t even understand itself anymore. Because really, who does this bitch think she is? Did she really thought she could do whatever she wanted to him and get away with it? No, only Y/N is allowed to ruin Mark.

And then Y/N leaves her like that. Not dead—because that would be a mercy. Just awake enough to feel it, to be it, a distorted creature of twitching muscle and glossy skin that drips with its own existence.

[dotster001]

hiiii

can I request a part 2 for "when they break up with reader to try date other person just to notice they still in love with reader, but now reader is with someone else" but with ace, azul, rook and idia please?

Note. Unfinished. It may be finished later, but I can't promise it.

Summary: Gn! reader x Ace and Azul. Rook and Idia are not here at this time.

Part One

Ace Trapola

Ace just disappeared one day. Even though he'd been your friend long before you started dating, he just…stopped answering your texts. Didn't show up to your shared classes. Wasn't at lunch. And you knew.

He'd told you the last person he dated, he had ghosted them. He'd told you he was an adult now. He'd grown. He'd lived a little bit of life. He wouldn't do that to you. But here you were. By the second day, you knew. And even if you didn't, the looks on your other friend's faces told you everything you needed to know.

Whatever. If he wanted to act like a child, that was fine. He was remarkably gifted at avoidance, considering other people had seen you both in the same room together even if you hadn't seen him, but you didn't care. It would save you angst later and allow you to move on. A week in, you caught glimpses of him again, and a week after that, he was back to being your friend. By then, he was dating someone else. Perhaps he'd been dating them for a while. You really didn't want to know.

A month later, Deuce had sheepishly appeared at your door. He confessed to have been in love with you forever, even before Ace was. He assured you that he realized it might be too soon, but if you ever felt like giving love another shot, he'd be willing to volunteer. Ace had never looked at you with so much love. And Deuce…well…he was Deuce! A part of you couldn't help but be in love with him! So you told him you'd give it a try.

Ace nearly killed him the first time you walked together at lunch. How dare he! Whatever happened to bro code! You were off-limits in case he ever got bored of his current partner. What part of that did Deuce not understand?

But he kept his cool. In their duo, he was the cool one, and he wouldn't stop that now.

That cool lasted another week when Ace threw a punch at Deuce because he kissed you. Ace didn't have the fighting experience Deuce had, so he was destined to lose. But he got a few good bruises on Deuce before you and Jack separated them.

You gently tended to Deuce's bruises, and Ace scoffed. "You don't need to baby him, Y/N."

You stood up in fury. "We're not together anymore, Ace! You made it very clear you don't want me. So just leave me alone, okay!" That hurt worse than the black eye he was starting to feel. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to come up with a good retort, but you were ignoring him now. Just like he ignored you.

Azul Ashengrotto

He never would have been able to hold onto you. You'd learn that he was a stupid octopus and go for someone else. So he decided to outplay you. If he broke up with you first and dated someone "better," especially if he didn't love them, you couldn't hurt him, and they couldn't hurt him. 

He lined up his “superior prey”, prey that had enough benefits to outweigh the loss of your love, and coldly broke it off over dinner. Perhaps he didn't need to hurt you in the breakup, but he figured the crueler he was, the less you could hurt him.

He was wrong. So wrong. He didn't see you in the lounge for quite some time. The school year ended, and he returned for his third year, and he still didn't see you visit. Not even Jade or Floyd could find you.

So when you walked in on Jamil's arm, wearing a ruby red locket around your neck, reminding Azul of a collar intended to warn people you were taken, he felt his stomach roll.

He came to your table personally, and felt even worse when you seemed so happy.

"Azul! It's so good to see you. You look well," You say brightly, no hard feelings in your face at all.

"You as well," He says, full manager mode. You look more than well. You look breathtaking. But he couldn't say that. He had destroyed you, het you'd built yourself up. Jamil sipped his glass of watter, a smug look in his eyes.

"I'll be personally seeing to your table tonight. Drinks are on the house, with a purchase of the 50 thaumark per person special," He said with a suave bow. "Take some time to discuss your order."

As he turned to leave, he watched from the corner of his eye as Jamil took your chin in his hand and kissed you deeply. He knew it was performative. That Jamil was showing off what he had.

And there was nothing Azul could do about it.

Taglist: people who requested more lol idk if they are still here @kimilight

[liiixsturniolos]

CALL ME WHEN YOU BREAK UP

Fratboytoxic!chris x toxic!reader

── .✦. ──

★ It's a harmful cycle, Chris and you. You'll poison each other yet still crawl back together. But after another argument, he gets a new girl to make you jealous. Will he crawl back this time?

★ warnings!: Angst, Fluff, toxic relationship, mentions of weed.

“Call me when you break up!” You scream, middle finger drawn to his face. He rolls his eyes, turning away from you. You're so furious, you speed walk away so pissed you could've sanded off the bottom of your shoes with how you were slamming your feet onto the concrete. So fucking angry. On and off for two years.

He had to get back at you for your latest argument. He did this by dating some random ex of his. A girl you knew he gave no shits about. Somehow, this feud was affecting you more than your past few. Could be the way he intentionally wanted you to be jealous. And it was working.

You were stalking this girls socials like a hawk, waiting to see if she'd post some hard launch of them together, put his initial in her bio, or if matching profile pictures were next for them. It was destroying you, even though you knew it was all a ruse, the thought of his hands on her made you sick.

You wondered occasionally if the toxicity of the relationship was worth it... but when it was good, it was fucking good. Like Romeo and Juliet, except if they occasionally wanted to kill eachother instead of themselves. The talks for hours, listening to music and getting high together, the inside jokes. When it was good it felt like you two were the only two people in the world and you hated everyone but one an other.

When it was bad, it was bitchy, petty, stupid. But it hurt. Chris could get so mean, making you question if he really loved you why he would act this way. Your bad phases were short but painful, like kissing someone else at a party infront of eachother, or talking shit to all your mutual friends.

But you always crawled back together. It was like a magnetic attraction, you always met back up. You could try to get over him, sleep with some guy, but it would never work. They just weren't the same as him. He taught you a secret language you could only speak together, what you had was irreplaceable. And as much as you both tried to hide it you were both painfully aware that you loved eachother, and that you couldn't find the same thing anywhere else.

You're just out from the shower. Clean and slightly soapy, your wet hair dripping onto your shoulder, when your phone buzzes. You bite your lip, deciding if you want to check who's texted you. You're weak. You look at the screen, a message from Chris.

“I wanna see you.”

Probably high, you think. No way you're going to run after him like a little puppy after he ran off with some girl. “Fuck him,” you mutter to yourself, tossing your phone onto your bed and wrapping a towel around you.

Another text brightens the screen,

“Come to the party, you need to get your mind off of him.”

from your bestfriend Caroline,

You think to yourself for a few moments, typing and then stopping and thinking again. You're not in the mood for a party, but it could be nice to get drunk to forget about Chris for a second. So you reply, typing in one hand and the other opening up your wardrobe to search for a decent dress.

You land on a short red one, with a square neckline. And pair it with some old black heels. It's not long until you're drunk as fuck. You want to forget about all this arguing and this felt like a good idea at your third tequila shot. Now you're stumbling around on Caroline's porch.

Until you spot a familiar looking navy blue mustang, Chris is parked out front the house, drivers seat reclined a little and a blunt in his mouth, like he has all the time in the world to spare. His cars running, like he's waiting for someone.

Your stomach drops, and you try to wander past his car and act cool, but you know the someone he's waiting for is you.

“Had fun ma?” he scoffs, looking you up and down. His tone is gruff, low it makes you wonder what he's thinking of. He tilts his head slightly, with a hint of sass, his eyes taking in your dress, your heels, your glossed lips.

Your jaw clenches. “What the fuck are you doing here, Chris?”

He takes another drag of his blunt, eyes observing every inch of you as he exhales, lifting his arm up and resting it on the window ledge. “Wanted to make sure you got home safe,” he tells you. “That a problem?”

You cross your arms and huff, “Yeah, it is a problem. You're not my boyfriend anymore. There's no need to watch out for me.”

He scoffs, shaking his head in dissaproval. “Nah. what’s a problem is you out here drunk.”

You sigh, here we go. “First of all,” you snap, stepping closer, eyes locked with his and your lecturing voice booming in his face, “What i do, and who i go out with is none of your business.”

He hums like he doesn’t believe you. Takes another drag, eyes flickering down to your lips. “Mhm. so, what?” he exhales slowly, the smoke lingering between your two close faces. “You let him kiss you?”

“There is no him, I don't need a rebound like you.” You chuckle, turning to walk away from his pathetic tough guy act.

You don’t owe him shit. He's not your boyfriend. Hasn’t been since he fucked off with that girl. But the way he looked at you just then- like he couldn't contain his thoughts, makes you rethink things.

You turn back and swallow hard. “No.”

“Good girl.” he smirks, looking you up and down as you shake, rubbing your cold hands together.

“Now c'mon and get in, you're shivering ma.” he tells you,

Reluctantly, you slip into the passenger seat. “You look pretty tonight.” he smiles at you, locking eyes with yours.

You try to work out his intentions behind what he just said, “Not gonna work on me this time.” You sigh, rolling your eyes and folding your arms, landing on the decision he was trying to sweeten you up to apologise.

“Alright..” he laughs quietly and starts up the car,

“Maybe this will.” he mutters, his lips moving fast toward yours.

His lips move slow against yours at first, pulling your lips into his. Then his attitude shifts, begging to feel you kissing him back he gets hungry, starving for your touch, your forgiveness, and your love again. The kiss is aggressive almost, passionate and electric.

Your thoughts swirling, your mind hyper active and running like a race horse. You couldn't help but let your hands feel through his hair, getting lost in the heat of it all. You'd forgotten how mad you were, and relaxing into the joy of being with him again. It was a high you couldn't buy anywhere else.

A/n: I hope you liked this :) please interact so I keep posting! Ilyyy, tell me if you want more of toxic fratboy chris and toxic reader!

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: @matthewsroses @pvssychicken @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @sturniolo-fann @matts-myloverboy @emely9274 @sophand4n4 @uncannyguava @chrissweetheart @certifiedstarrr @slut4chris888 @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @chrepsi @starrii-sturns

[simpforbbarnes]

Dust and Destiny pt.4

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader

Summary : Bucky Barnes and you used to be lovers , madly in love. But you lost him in the blip and lost him again after the blup because he need to “find himself”.

Warning : cursing

Words : 2.8k

This part gonna be a wild(not so wild) ride , buckle up

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

———————————

The ghost meet the distraction

The team murmuring amongst themselves about mission prep. Steve gives you a small nod before heading out with Nat, who throws you a look that says You and I are talking later. Wanda and Pietro follow, whispering to each other in Sokovian.

Tony lingers near the door, watching you. You pretend not to notice.

Instead, you focus on your tablet, pretending to look at the mission details as if your entire body isn’t hyperaware of the man still sitting across from you.

Bucky. He hasn’t moved.

You can feel his gaze flicker toward you, but he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t make a move to acknowledge you beyond what’s necessary.

And that’s fine. That’s exactly how you want it.

With a casual stretch, you push back from the table, acting as if being paired with him isn’t a big deal. As if your stomach isn’t a mess of knots.

“Well, this should be fun,” you say lightly, locking your tablet and tucking it under your arm.

Bucky���s voice is steady, unreadable. “It’s just a mission.” You give a small, amused snort. “Yeah. Just a mission.”

Just a mission, like you’re just colleagues. Like you don’t share a history heavy enough to crack the goddamn floor beneath you.

Like you weren’t his once. Like he wasn’t yours.

But you keep your face smooth, keep your smirk easy. “We’re just partners, right?” Bucky doesn’t answer immediately. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something deep—but it’s gone before you can grasp it.

Then, finally, he nods. “Right.” Just partners. Just another mission. Then why does it feel like the air between you is suffocating?

The weight of two years lingers in the space between you. All the words never said. All the memories neither of you acknowledge.

And yet, you pretend.

Because that’s all you can do.

So you flash him one last easy smirk before turning toward the door. “See you at the jet, Barnes.”You walk away.

………

You sit at the far end of the quinjet, legs crossed, fingers idly tapping against your knee as the engines hum beneath you. You’ve got your tablet open, pretending to go over the mission details again, but your mind isn’t absorbing any of it.

Across from you, Bucky is doing the same thing, pretending to be focused. He’s staring straight ahead, barely blinking, jaw locked tight. His arms are crossed over his chest, but his metal fingers are twitching slightly.

It’s the first sign of his nerves. The first crack in the perfectly controlled mask he’s been wearing since you got back.You almost want to call him out on it.

Nat’s voice breaks the silence from the cockpit. “ETA ten minutes. Try not to kill each other before we land.”

You smirk. “No promises.” Bucky doesn’t react.

Nat glances back at you over her shoulder, clearly unimpressed. “Right. Well, if you do kill him, try to do it after the mission.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Nat snorts before turning back to the controls.

You flick your gaze back to Bucky. “You gonna be like this the entire time?”. His jaw tightens. “Like what?”

“Like you’ve swallowed a damn brick.” You tilt your head. “Lighten up, Barnes. It’s just a mission.”. Bucky doesn’t answer.

You sigh, leaning back against the wall of the jet. “If you’re still this grumpy when we land, I’m leaving you behind.”

And then, without missing a beat, you add, “Oh, wait. Sorry. I’m not the type to leave anyone behind.”

The air in the quinjet shifts.

Bucky tenses.

The words hang there between you,an invisible blade, cutting sharp and deep. You don’t mean to say it. Not really. But it slips out before you can stop it, a cruel echo of everything left unspoken.

Because he left.

Because when you needed him the most, he walked away.

And now, you’re just throwing it back in his face.

Bucky’s jaw tightens. His fingers flex against his knee, his entire body wound tight. But he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t argue. Because what can he say?

That he’s sorry? That he didn’t mean to leave you behind? That it killed him just as much as it killed you?

Or maybe he won’t say anything at all.

Maybe he’ll just keep pretending the past never happened. Just like you’re trying to do.

The jet dips slightly as you hit some turbulence, and instinctively, your hand grips the edge of the seat. And that’s when it happens.

Bucky’s hand moves, quick, automatic;like he’s going to reach for you.

Like he’s going to steady you.

Like he used to.

But the moment he realizes what he’s doing, he stops. Yanks his hand back. Flexes his fingers like he’s trying to shake off a mistake.

Like touching you would burn him. You pretend not to notice. You pretend the cold that settles in your chest isn’t real.

Instead, you exhale, force an easy grin, and lean back again. “Relax, Barnes. It’s just turbulance.”

Bucky says nothing. And when the jet lands minutes later, he’s already on his feet, striding out without a backward glance.

Like you don’t exist.Like you never did.

….

The compound is quiet when you finally make it back. Most of the team has turned in for the night, exhaustion settling into their bones.

You should probably do the same.

Instead, you find yourself in the kitchen, staring blankly into the fridge, not even sure what you’re looking for.

Behind you, footsteps. Heavy. Familiar. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

Bucky.

You keep your gaze locked on the fridge, pretending to be utterly fascinated by the selection of leftover takeout.

“You always do that?” His voice is rough from the long day, but there’s something else beneath it. Amusement? Annoyance? You can’t tell.

You raise a brow, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Do what?”

“Stand there for five minutes and never grab anything.”

You roll your eyes, finally grabbing a bottle of water before shutting the fridge door. “Maybe I like the cold air. Helps me think.”

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You still doing that?”

The words catch you off guard. It’s not just something he’s noticing now. It’s something he’s always noticed.

A small, stupid habit—one he used to tease you about. One he used to lean against the counter and watch with that soft, lopsided grin, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe you.

“What exactly is the thought process here?” he used to say. “You stand there, stare at the fridge like it holds the meaning of life, and then walk away with the same damn water bottle.”

“It helps me think.”

“Think about what?”

“Nothing important.”

Back then, he used to push. He used to pry. He used to care.

Now?

Now, he just watches you, the flicker of old familiarity in his eyes quickly smothered by something unreadable.

You twist the cap off the bottle, taking a slow sip. “Guess some things don’t change.”

His jaw tightens just slightly. “Guess not.”

Silence settles between you.You should walk away. Go to your room. Pretend like this, like he doesn’t affect you.

But you don’t. Instead, you linger, gripping the water bottle a little too tightly. And Bucky doesn’t leave either. The silence stretches between you, thick.

Bucky is still leaning against the counter, arms crossed, blue eyes fixed on you like he’s trying to figure something out.

You know that look. You used to be able to read him like a damn book. But now? Now he’s harder to decipher, guarded in ways he never was before. Or maybe he’s always been this way, and you were just too close to see it before.

You force yourself to look away first, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Well. This has been fun.”

Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything.

You start to walk past him, because you need to get out of here, because the air feels too heavy, because being around him like this feels like standing too close to an open flame.

But the moment you step beside him, his voice stops you in your tracks.

“You really gonna keep pretending like nothing happened?”

You freeze.

Fingers tightening around the water bottle, you swallow hard before turning your head just slightly. “Excuse me?”

Bucky finally shifts, pushing off the counter to stand fully upright. “You heard me.”

Your pulse ticks faster, but you force your expression to remain neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Right.”

You exhale sharply, finally turning to face him. “What do you want from me, Barnes?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at you, searching your face like the answer might be there. Like maybe you’ll crack first.

But you won’t. You can’t.

So you shake your head, taking a step back. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I’m not doing this with you.”

Bucky doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t argue.

But just as you reach the doorway, he speaks again.

“Some things don’t change, huh?”

Your footsteps falter.

His voice is quieter now, but there’s something sharp beneath it. “Guess that includes running away, too.”

That does it. You spin around so fast he barely has time to react before you’re stepping right into his space, fire burning in your eyes.

“Who’s running first, Barnes? Who?”

Bucky clenches his jaw, but he doesn’t look away.

You shake your head, voice laced with bitterness. “Because last I checked, it wasn’t me who left. It wasn’t me who said I need to figure myself out and walked away like none of it meant anything.” Your voice wavers, but you push through it. “So don’t you dare stand there and act like I’m the one who ran.”

Bucky exhales through his nose, gaze dark, unreadable. “That’s not—” He stops himself, lips pressing into a thin line before he mutters, “That’s not fair.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Fair? You wanna talk about fair?”

Neither of you notice how close you’ve gotten, barely a breath apart, tension so thick it’s suffocating.

Your voice drops to something raw, something that almost hurts. “You left me, Bucky. And now you’re mad that I’m not still waiting for you?”

His eyes flicker with something. guilt, maybe. Regret. You don’t know. You don’t care.

He doesn’t say anything.

And that silence? It tells you everything.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” And this time, when you walk away, he doesn’t stop you.

You don’t stop walking until you’re back in your room. Your hands shake as you slam the door shut behind you, the weight of the conversation pressing down on your chest like a goddamn vice.

“Who’s running first, Barnes? Who?”

The words you said earlier still ring in your ears, laced with all the anger, all the hurt you’ve buried for years.

You breathe in deep, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. You shouldn’t have snapped. You shouldn’t have let him get to you.

But the moment he accused you of running, after everything, after the way he left first. you lost it.

And the worst part?

You saw it in his face.

The way he knew you were right. The way he had nothing to say back. It should feel like a victory.It doesn’t.

A knock at your door pulls you out of your thoughts.

You tense instantly, heart slamming against your ribs.

You already know who it isn’t. Not Steve, not Wanda, not Nat.

Not anyone but—

“Kid?”

Dad.

You exhale slowly, rubbing a hand over your face before finally stepping forward and pulling the door open. Tony leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“Let me guess,” he says. “You and Barnes finally had it out?”

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Tony sighs, stepping inside like he already knows you’re not about to kick him out. “You wanna talk about it?”. You shake your head, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. “Not really.”

Tony watches you carefully before lowering himself onto the chair near your desk. “You know, for a genius, you’re real bad at hiding your feelings.”

You scoff, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Yeah, well. Guess I learned from the best.”

Tony smirks slightly. “Fair.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“You okay?”

You look down at your hands, fingers twisting the cap of your water bottle until it creaks.

“I don’t know.”

Honest.

Raw.

Tony nods, like he expected that answer. “You know, it’s okay if you’re not.”

You huff out a breath. “Great. Love that for me.”

Tony doesn’t say anything right away.

Then, softer, “Did you ever stop loving him?”

Your throat tightens.

Your eyes burn.

You didnt even answer his question. You don’t even know how to answer it.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your breathing steady. “I just, I thought I moved on. I wanted to move on.”

Tony tilts his head slightly. “And yet?”

Your chest tightens. “And yet I walk into this compound and see him standing there, and it’s like nothing ever changed. Like no time passed at all.”

Tony sighs, shaking his head. “Yeah. That’s the real bitch of it.”

You just silent. Hurt. So. Much.

Tony taps his fingers against his knee. “So what now?”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “I don’t know.” Because that’s the truth.

You don’t know.

You don’t know how to exist in the same space as him without remembering everything. Without feeling every things of what you lost.

Tony studies you for a moment before nodding to himself. Then he stands up, clapping his hands against his thighs.

“Well. Guess that’s the fun part, huh?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

Tony smirks, tilting his head. “Figuring out what the hell you’re gonna do next.”. You let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

Tony squeezes your shoulder briefly before heading toward the door. But before he leaves, he pauses.

Turns back.

And then

“You still love him.”

It’s not a question.

You meet his gaze, heart hammering in your chest.

And this time, you don’t even try to deny it.

…..

It’s been a week since you came back. Seven days of dancing around each other. Seven days of pretending like nothing ever happened.

You and Bucky have perfected the art of avoidance. The only time you interact is when necessary. During missions, during briefings, when your dad throws a snarky comment that neither of you can ignore. But other than that?

Nothing.

You don’t look at him too long. He doesn’t let his eyes linger on you. Neither of you crack, neither of you fold.

It’s exhausting.

And it’s only a matter of time before one of you breaks.

But today? Today, you get something, a distraction .

Sam strolls into the common area, a smug grin on his face, clapping his hands together. “Alright, people. Got someone I want you all to meet.”

You look up from your spot on the couch just as a man steps in beside Sam.

And holy shit.

Tall. Strong jawline. Warm brown eyes. And that smile? Holy hell.

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Because for the first time in years, your brain does something stupid. It short-circuits.

“Everyone,” Sam announces, “this is Joaquin Torres.”

Joaquin smiles, and you swear you feel your soul leave your body for a second. “Hey,” he greets, voice smooth, easy.

You just stare.

God. He’s so pretty.

Like, unfairly pretty.

“Torres is gonna be working with us on some upcoming ops,” Sam continues, glancing around at everyone. “Figured it was time for him to meet the team.”

You’re still staring.

Because what the hell?

For the first time in years, you find another man attractive.

Other than Bucky.

The realization knocks the wind out of you, and your brain short-circuits again.

He’s so hot.

But Bucky is hotter.

Wait—what the fuck?

You physically shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. Wanda smirks, catching your reaction immediately. You shoot her a ‘don’t start’ look, but she just quirks an eyebrow like she’s already taking mental notes.

Meanwhile, Joaquin meets your gaze, smiling like he’s completely unaware of the problems and crisis you’re having.

“Torres,” you manage, forcing a small smirk. “Welcome to the circus.”

Joaquin chuckles. “Looking forward to it.”

And maybe you’re too aware of the way he’s looking at you.

But then—

A shift.

A presence.

Like a storm cloud rolling in. And you don’t even have to turn your head to know..

Bucky is watching.

Taglist : (lmk if you wanna be apart of my taglist ♡) @sebbymybaby21 @learisa @julvrs @chuiisi @caity1995 @wintercrows

[kpopsexstories]

NCT 127 Dating Ban #1: Haechan

NCT 127 can’t date girls. As their gay friend you help them out with their sexual needs.

This is a 100% gay smut story. Check out this post for my straight smut and this post for more gay smut.

Want more stories like this one? Also read the NCT Dream Dating Ban series which takes place before the 127 series.

Pairing: NCT Haechan x Male Reader

Story: Haechan begs you to come for a visit and have sex with him again.

Type of Sex: MEDIUM

Word Count: 2.2k

It's been six months since you last had sex with Haechan. There have been times when you've rolled your eyes and regretted that you gave him your number. Not really though, because at the end of the day you find his pushy eagerness quite adorable.

He's been on you about coming to see him and meet his friends from 127, though he usually only texts you when he's horny, which to be fair is often. Flirty messages, pleads for you to come in every sense of the word, and desperate attempts to have sex again. It can't be easy when you're famous and can't go on dating apps like regular people. You’ve learned better than most.

At times you've played along with his games, when you've been horny too. You've been sexting, and your phone is full of pictures of Haechan's naked body, video snippets of his dick, and endless chats about how good it felt when he last fucked your ass.

Most of the explosive content was unsolicited, but not all. And you've sent him stuff too. He's told you all about the dating ban the company has imposed on the boys and his sexual frustrations are obvious.

Then one day you decided to just to it, to come and help him out like he begged you to. It was a spontaneous decision. Now you're riding the elevator up to the NCT 127 dorm, excited about the reunion but also nervous about meeting his friends.

You can't wait to see what the week with them might have in store for you. It’s sure to be a great one.

Haechan is happy and giddy when he opens the door. He's been waiting for you, purposefully stayed home to greet you. He welcomes you back and gives you a long hug and invites you in.

You quickly learn that he's alone and that actually comes as a relief. You're tired from the trip and you'll be introduced to his friends in good time.

“They're at work,” he explains. “But us dreamies have a break after our last promotion. Mark is with his family, he'll be back before you leave though.”

You chit-chat in the living room of the vast apartment. The 127 boys each have their own room. There are two bathrooms, a kitchen and a communal area with a fancy couch and big screen TV.

There's nothing sexual at all between you during this first half hour in his second home. Just two friends hanging out and catching up. But you won't even make it an hour before sex is on the table.

“Come on, I'll show you where we'll fuck,” Haechan says and gets up from an armchair next to the couch. ”Sleep, I mean sleep! My bed. I'll show you my bedroom.”

He suddenly seems nervous and concerned but is able to laugh about it. You're amused by how silly the man is acting around you which helps him feel relaxed. You might not know him that well, but you have sucked his dick after all.

The bedroom is small but has a desk, a window, a queen sized bed in the corner, and a spacious closet. “It's not much,” Haechan says and sits down on the bed. “But it's more than I need as long as I’m single. I hope you don't mind sharing.”

You leave your suitcase along the wall by the door, then go to sit beside your friend.

“Not at all,” you say cheerfully and throw yourself backwards on the mattress. No more words are needed. “So… This is where we'll fuck huh?”

Haechan turns to look at you. You smirk, only teasing him. But the atmosphere between you suddenly shifts.

You smile affectionately at each other. He leans down over you and you kiss. It's been clear from the start why you're here. Six months later and it's like no time has passed at all.

Vivid memories suddenly return in your head. Images of sex, lust, dicks and orgies. You wonder why you haven't returned to your famous friends sooner.

The kiss turns into a make-out session. Things escalate quickly. There's plenty of evidence on your phone that Haechan has been longing for this moment for a long time. Now that you're here he simply can't keep his hands off your body nor you off his.

He slides inside your shirt and rolls into your arms. Your lips make a low smacking sound as they touch, and the make-out session intensifies when he squeezes your side and begins to grind his body against yours. As the kissing becomes more passionate the sounds grow louder and he begins to moan.

He's horny as hell, incredibly hard for you. You can feel the shaft though his sweatpants. When your hand glides inside his shirt too, he quickly sits up to take it off, only to come crashing down on you again like he hasn't seen another human being for months.

He lands on top of your body and you spread your legs for him, while feeling his bare back and spine all the way down to the seams of his pants. He grinds on top of you, squirming and rubbing his soft skin against yours. All without either of you saying a word.

His hand wanders up your side and to your armpit, and your shirt goes up along with it. As your bodies touch and the weight of the man is pressing down on your crotch, you get so intensely horny that pre-cum is already making you wet.

“Mm, fuck,” you exclaim when a strong sensation runs through your body. You can feel Haechan's grin when his lips press against yours.

His grinding motions grow larger. “Mm, mm,” he moans softly.

Your hand glides over his ass, then slips inside his pants and underwear in one go. You squeeze the soft cheeks lurking underneath them, and when you realize you're about to get naked together already, you think to yourself, this is why I came.

When your shirt is up to your neck you raise your upper body, prompting Haechan to briefly take the weight off you and give you some space. You take the shirt off, and before you know it he's sitting between your legs, tugging at your pants to make them go down.

You glance at his stomach and the v-line clearly visible above his low-hanging sweats and briefs. You raise your ass, helping the man to yank your clothes off completely.

Your dick is freed and Haechan's smirk goes away. He opens his mouth and his eyes become full of desire. He pulls his own pants down, and soon you have the same look on your face when his long cock waves in the air above you.

“The dating ban is killing me,” he says, his voice drenched in sexual desire.

“Really?” you pant and raise your eyebrows. You pull him closer, equally eager to help him deal with his frustrations, and smile. “I couldn’t tell.”

It takes a few moments of passionate shuffling around for the both of you to get fully nude. You suddenly wonder when the others will return, and realize that you've left the bedroom door wide open.

Who cares? It doesn't matter. You're home alone, horny as hell, naked in Haechan's bed. There's only one thing that's really on your mind, and if Haechan isn't worried then neither are you.

You're so ready to feel his beautiful dick inside you again. Haechan's long wait is finally over.

*****

Haechan has been pounding you for a while in various positions when he eventually reaches his peak and goes over the edge. You're on your back with your knees folded around him and legs spread, while he's gliding in your arms and hammering his pelvis lustfully against your thighs and ass.

You stroke and squeeze his back and upper arms. His hands glide up and down your sides. The bed shakes, the mattress squeaks, and he's moaning and groaning while his dick goes in and out of your hole.

“Ahh, fuuuck!” he shouts.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck my ass,” you moan.

“Ahh, ahh, FUUUCK!”

He grinds his teeth and shuts his eyes hard when he comes. “Uuhhrgh,” he gurgles from his throat, and you can feel his dick pulsating as the load is unleashed inside you. “Mm, mmhpfh, fuuuck!”

His hand is holding on to your leg so hard it almost hurts. But the release is quick and effective, and he relaxes his muscles before he's even finished emptying himself.

His hard thrusts gradually decline in strength and size. He opens his eyes and you lovingly look at each other. He bursts out in a huge but temporary grin, before he jolts and thrusts hard and deep inside you a few last times: “Humpfh! Ahh! Ahhhh!”

He starts to breathe deeply, heaving over you while he recovers from the powerful orgasm and long overdue physical connection. “Ahhhh, ahhhh, yeaaahh.”

You start to relax too, your knees unfolding and legs slipping down the sides of Haechan's hot body. “Feel better?” you ask and the smirk returns.

“Much,” Haechan says and smiles wide. “Thank you.”

The sex is hardly over when your intimate moment is suddenly interrupted. “Holy fuck!” a voice says somewhere behind your friend. He panics, abruptly pulls away from and out of you, and rolls off your body and onto his side.

You look in the direction of the door, which until now has been hidden from view behind Haechan's towering shoulders. You immediately recognize the stunned faces staring right back at you.

Johnny and Jungwoo are standing in the doorway, mouths wide open and eyebrows raised high on their long faces.

“Daaamn,” Jungwoo says, echoing the sentiments of Johnny's initial reaction.

Haechan grabs a pillow and puts it over his still hard cock. “What the fuck guys?” he bellows.

For a few seconds that feel like an eternity no one says a word. You hide your face behind Haechan, but he's far from enough to cover your naked body.

“What- what's this?” Jungwoo asks.

“That was so hot,” Johnny says before Haechan can respond.

Haechan answers with another question: “When did you get back?”

Johnny stares at him, and a faint smile appears on his lips. “We never left,” he says while studying your exposed torso.

This is not how you imagined meeting Haechan's friends for the first time. But what's done is done and there's nothing you can do about it now. And as the shock settles, both Haechan and the two men in the door seem surprisingly casual about the whole thing.

There's nothing else to do than to shake it off and act like everything is fine. But to you, who don't know the guys at all but also feel like you know everything about them, it's still a nerve wrecking experience.

Haechan sits up straight but doesn't remove the pillow. You scoot higher up behind him, using his body for protection. Johnny and Jungwoo's postures change, and they appear more casual as they both take a step closer.

“So?” Johnny asks. ”Who's this?”

He's actually asked that question once before, six months ago, but you're not surprised he doesn't remember. You just passed each other in the street and he had no time to stop for a chat.

“Ehm, this is my friend I told you about. He'll be staying for a week.”

“Yeah, we figured,” Jungwoo says and smiles wide. He approaches the bed with determination and extends an arm and hand. “Hi.”

You slowly sit up, peaking out from your hiding place, but cross your legs and pull some sheets over your lower half.

“Hi,” you say and take the hand. “Sorry, it might have cum on it.”

It doesn’t and you don’t know why you said it. Jungwoo doesn’t seem to mind.

“Nice to meet you,” Johnny says politely, as if this is just like any friendly and formal first introduction.

“You too,” you say and look him in the eye while smiling wide to put up a facade.

“We should leave them to it,” Jungwoo suggests when he lets go of you, then gently pushes his friend on the shoulder. The show is over anyway and you’ll have to wait to come another time. Haechan will certainly return the favor tonight.

“Listen, guys,” he says when the two men begin to walk away. “Please don't tell the others about this.”

“Okay,” Jungwoo agrees. ”Don't worry, we won't.”

Johnny nods and smirks but makes no verbal promises. Haechan – and you – will just have to trust them.

They leave and close the door behind them. When they're gone you look at Haechan with a straight face, wondering what he's thinking and feeling in this moment, and whether you should be laughing or crying about having been caught.

“Why not?” you ask.

“I haven't told them how we met,” Haechan admits.

There's a moment of silence between you. Then you both burst out laughing. Yeah, it's going to be a fun week for sure.

[illustrationist-of-the-stars]

Im assuming you keep up with TWSt jp spoilers based on your past posts but if I’m wrong then please just ignore this 🙏🏼

Since past sunday was all about keeping people in dreams how do you think YuuSunday would react to the events in book 7 and after?

No, you're right, I generally don't care about getting spoiled about things like this anymore so it's cool :]

Get ready for some rambling because this is gonna be a little long so mb

Once Yuu!Sunday finally reaches the Book 7 arc and sees Malleus breaking down and Overblot's due to his own insecurity and fear of being completely alone, I think it'd be a major kick in the ribs for him as he tries to comprehend the irony of the now switched roles between them as he slowly succumbs to a potential never-ending slumber yet again by another's misguided attempt at a falsely perceived form of mercy.

Yet another individual that they think knows what's best for the lower masses and acts irrationally, disregarding what others and those beneath them would think and not accepting that they'd want otherwise because they must be the only one that understands, to weak to truly do yet far to fragile to be let out of the cage, and if a force of hand or a show of power is what it will take for them to kneel and accept their inevitable peaceful sancutuary?

Then so be it.

...

He wouldn't know if it would be appropriate to laugh or cry at this new yet dreadful development as he stares mutely at the replica version of his dear and forever beloved sister, he's seating at the table of a cafe that he distantly remembers her wanting to try out soon before disaster struck that left him forever ruined and let out of his confinement to venture on his own, wandering and consumed by wanderlust in search of an unknown purpose that may never be found in his short lifetime.

He's knowlegable enough about dreams and illusions that it wouldn't be right to be seated with this fake fantasy any longer, that it would be detremental to him and everyone else beyond this escapism and he needs to act and quickly find a way out because he has no idea if time dilation is a factor with this massive scale of a diabolical spell, that he shouldn't indulge in this fantasy anymore before it's too late and-

"Brother, are you alright?"

The feeling of (it's not her, it will never be, a mere mirage-) Robin's gentle touch on his hand and a soft yet concerned voice accompanies it is what it all took to halt and shatter his reverie and bring him back to the present, with her, with Robin.

"I- I'm sorry, dear sister... I just..."

The lump in his throat increases difficulty in swallowing down, it's as if he somehow ate glass as he truly looks at his dear sister that he misses ever so dearly, picking her apart and the differences and feels weighed down by the fact that it's a perfect copy of her, the posture, the micro expressions on her face, almost everything is close to the T except for the fact that it is not real. None of all this is but he hopes regardless of the fact like te fool he knows he is.

The distance and forced estrangement is still a fresh scar to his already damaged psyche that he couldn't help but equate to burns and lashes on his back as he continues to stare at her, just the same as he remembers he'd seen and left her....

He stares unblinking for a longer moment, prolonging it for all it's worth, unwilling to blink in fear of blinking away this sweet yet crippling dream when he should as Robin stares back at him aswell, without judgement and with the same soft yet concerned smile as she waits patiently however long he needs to finish his thought and reply back to her inquiry.

He thinks distantly that he can feel himself drowning and getting lost in this moment, wonders for a moment that if this is how devil's in scriptions tempted their prey and countless of clueless innocences into condemning themselves in a fate worse than death, turned into sinners and burning for all of eternity as they commited deeds so heinous in the name of their selfish and greedy desires as he carefully holds and grips back her deceptively tangible hand in his gloved one.

He can feel himself finally able to manage to swallow back his guilt and self-loathing as he stares back in kind to his sister, so real, by his side and right there in front of him, like it was always meant to be, with soft and crinkled eyes due to his own smile widening in acceptance at her presence.

"Yes, I'm quite alright. I'm just...so happy you're here, sister"

If indulgance in this sweet dream will condemn and ruin him further in sin than he already was before, he can always try to atone and build himself back up his shattered pieces again, or maybe he can be the ignorant fool and act like he didn't know it was all a lie in the first place but that wouldn't be right, would it?

No, it wouldn't. What a terrible thought, how could he think that? Let alone also consider it, how low must he have fallen to do that?

After this all ends, he'll try his best to repent for the crimes commited, for his willing condemination, he swears desperately as he contradicts himself yet again and again, as much as possible.

If no one will recognize him as man worthy of heaven any longer, that this clear indulgance in sin will set him back even further than he was standing before...

Then so be it.

.

.

.

This is what one would say, a taste of his own medicine, no?

Honestly, I don't think Yuu!Sunday would ever be willing to actually forgive Malleus for betraying his trust, companionship and making him betray his own self at the same time, despite his immense empathy that he was in volatile state and he has been there before, it still incredbily hurt in the worst ways possible.

Not at the moment, atleast.

He needs to work himself out before confronting such woes...

Though, he can't help but feel that this not yet the last of the many betrayal's of his trust as he looks towards at the wardrobe that holds his old ceremonial robes and other miscellanious clothing and trinkets.

He just...feels it.