#so he dumped those two out to try and fix things

[thelizardburt]

Falcon and the Winter Soldier, as told by Luis

So, first off, Sam Wilson—aka Falcon—he’s chilling post-Endgame, trying to live that low-key life, ya know? Flying around, doing the good deeds, helping vets, and rocking those slick wings that make every airport security line a personal vendetta. Meanwhile, Bucky Barnes—The Winter Soldier—is on his own weird redemption tour and therapy, trying to ditch the brainwashing and not murder anyone today. Basically bro with a dark past and a metal arm, but a soft heart hiding somewhere under all that angst.

Then WHOOSH! Enter the big question: Who gunna be the new Captain America? Because Steve Rogers retired like a boss and passed that iconic shield to Sam. But the world? They’re not quite ready for a Black Cap, especially some old white dude named John Walker who gets dumped the job and tries way too hard. Like, dude, chill. You’re not the Cap, yo the Capitol’s Captain. Like, Bro, John Walker is like the awkward new kid at school trying to run the football team and failing HARD.

Meanwhile, Sam’s out there wrestling with what being a hero means in a messed-up world. Is it about the symbol? The shield? The history? Or just doing the right thing? Deep stuff, man. And he's trying to help his sister Sarah with their parents boat, cuz it's old and if they sell it, Sarah could get some money to help her kids.

Sam introduces Bucky to Isaiah Bradley, who is like "nah bro, never was a Captain America. They made me out to be a bad guy." then Bucky gets arrested for missing a therapy session!

So in the therapy, Bucky reveals to Sam that he wasn't happy that he gave away the shield because that was the only thing he had left of Steve, and Sam's like "bro, Hakunamatata, it means no worries, let the past live in the past, it's you and me, bro"

And then bam! Baron Zemo returns, that dude with the purple mask and zero chill, scheming and shaking things up like he’s the ultimate party crasher. Plus, these super-soldier freak team, the Flag Smashers, shaking the status quo and throwing punches at everyone. It’s chaos with a capital C.

And then Sharon Carter is there in Mardipoor saving their butt's, like, "hey boys! I'm totally a good guy, but SHIELD fired me because of the Civil War, so I'm gunna help you." And Sam is like "sure homie. But if you help us, I'll get SHIELD to get yo job back"

So she helps them get to the evil scientist that recreated the Super Soldier serum, which Zemo kills and Bucky and Sam ar like "why, bro? We needed him!" and Zemo is like "don't worry, bro, I know some people back in this other place"

So they go the place Zemo was talking about, and Buckys like "I'll catch up" and finds a kymoyo bead and Ayo shows up and is like "hey homie, so we need to lock up Zemo" and Buckys like "I know bro, but we need him. You can have him later" so Ayo leaves and Bucky arrives to where Zemo and Sam were.

And the audacity, John Walker shows up! He's like "you stooping as low to get help from him?! That's low, man." and he calls Sam a SIDEKICK. The disrespect. And then Sam and Bucky reluctantly let the two come, and they find a base. Then the Dora Malaji come and beat up John and Lemar!

Some time later, they get to the flag smasher base. Sam tells them to stay there while he talks to Karli. And he was so close, but John with him impatient self, RUINS IT AND RUNS IN! Karli gets away, with the other flag Smashers try stopping John, Lemar, Bucky and Sam. One of the Flag Smashers kill Lemar and John snaps. He runs after the dude and murders him. With the shield. In PUBLIC!

HE DIDN'T EVEN WIPE THE BLOOD AWAY! LIKE, BRO!

Sam and Bucky go after him and are like "not cool bro! Hand over the shield!" and John is like "no! I am Captain America!" so Sam and Bucky beat him up and broke his arm and take the shield back.

Later, Sam and Bucky go to Sarah's place, where the two help Sarah fix the boat to sell, and Bucky starts trusting his own mind again, so he let's kids hang off his metal arm, and when Sam is practising with the shield and the two have a heart to heart.

Then Karli and the Flag Smashers strike again, taking people hostage and trying to kill these important people, that WHOPSIES, don't go to plan, thanks to Bucky and Sam. Then Sharon SHOOTS Karli! Where's the girl code there?!

Oh, and Sharon is given her job back (as Sam is Captain America), and turns out to be a total traitor!

[doruumon]

When I tell people the war in the Unicron Trilogy was actually over 10 million years long and it’s basically everybody’s fault that it kept going.

[ivystoryweaver]

Distracting Gamer!Steven

wc: 1.7k, reader with female anatomy Content: ignoring, hand job, bit of cockwarming, p in v, creampie

Steven’s latest hyper-focus is gaming. Once he got into it, he discovered he was rather good. He connected with some online buddies and you love that for him.

His online friends aren’t as dismissive as some irl people, when he info dumps for fixates. It’s like they get him, really get him.

Steven worships the ground you walk on. He feels so lucky to have you.

But the obsessive part of his brain locks in when he’s on his headset, chewing on his bottom lip*, concentrating on surviving the particular level he’s trying to conquer.

Sometimes you sit near him, so happy to see him having fun. He always acknowledges you. He even offers to pause the game, if possible, if you need him. He would move heaven and earth for you.

But when he gets really excited, he’ll ask you to please wait a moment. “Almost done, darling.”

That tiny sliver of neglect from your sweet man sends desire pulsing through your body.

Steven has found something he enjoys so much that he’ll ask you to wait. You.

It’s fucking hot.

You’re next to him on the couch, close but not touching him.

Even if you laid your head on his shoulder, he would jostle you with a jerking motion while holding onto his controller.

So you start with his leg, tracing shapes on the top of his thigh with your fingertips. He smiles to himself but keeps his eyes fixed on the screen. 

Your fingers inch higher to the spot where the thick meat of his thigh meets his hip, rubbing more insistently through the soft fabric of his joggers.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he slightly shifts in his seat.

Leaning in, your lips ghost over the skin of his throat as one fingertip sneaks across to tease underneath his balls.

“…fuck,” he mutters, shifting into, instead of away from your touch.

You hear a gamer friend respond with a muddled reply over his headset.

You smile against his neck and cup him, rubbing seductively. You’ve purposely waited until he’s at the most challenging point in the level. After all, you beat it two weeks ago.

Air rushes out of him as his eyes flutter closed.

“Hold on,” he gasps.

“Bro, right now?” Headset friend fires back.

But he was talking to you.

“Wait, I’m almost done,” he mouths to you silently.

The thrill of him putting you off sends lust surging through your body, straight to your center.

You feel him hardening underneath your touch, so you work your hand over his length, nibbling on the cut of his jawline.

He chomps down on his delicious lip, forcing his eyes to stay fixed on the screen as you start to jerk him through his pants.

Pushing up on your knees, you take one side of his headset off the ear closet to you and nibble on his earlobe.

He groans, right into his headset.

“Mate, what the fuck?” His friend asks with a chuckle.

You giggle as Steven tries to mute himself. You stop him, gripping his chin and turning it back to the screen. “Keep playing,” you command, slipping your hand into his pants to touch the velvety hot skin you find there.

Your lips and tongue torture him, breathing hotly on his ear, swirling your tongue inside it, kissing a trail across his cheek to the corner of his mouth. You try to sneak your tongue inside but he jerks his head away.

You bite your lip to keep from moaning,  working your hand over his length faster, pushing your thumb over his leaking tip.

He pretends to keep focusing on the level, eyes glazing over as you whisper nasty things into his ear, too quiet for his headset to pick up.

“oh god,” he whines and you purr in satisfaction. “Oh my god, almost died there,” he tries to cover for those listening in.

You lightly kiss the corner of his mouth again, but this time he can’t resist, letting your tongue slip past his lips to tangle with his own.

He kisses you wildly, tongue rolling over yours for several long, delicious seconds before tearing his mouth away. “Now wait a damn minute,” he scolds you, eyes never meeting yours as he dodges certain death on screen.

He’s making you so hot, all you want to do is jerk down your own pants and give yourself some relief. You want him inside you.

Instead you work your hand faster, leaning over to suck his tip into your mouth.

"Shit," he hisses, finally muting his headset before gripping the nape of your neck. "Can't do that right now, darling, much as I want to. Get up and take off your clothes for me. I'm almost done."

You're so surprised that he's turning down a blow job that you stop and stare at him for a full thirty seconds. You've never been so hot for him, desire drenching your panties, your nipples straining against the fabric of your bra.

Your mouth goes dry as he unmutes his headset, never misses a beat in his game and leaves his fully erect cock the way it is, leaking and hard.

Slowly you stand slightly off to the side of his view, as to not block the screen. You push your pants down, but he doesn't even flinch. Next you cross your arms and pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the floor.

Your bra and panties are simple, but they match and they're cute.

Still nothing. He's engrossed.

A whine escapes your lips as you turn around, pushing your panties down over your hips, giving your ass a little wiggle as they drop to your ankles. You bend over to remove them from your feet, but all you get from Steven is a sharp intake of breath.

Still facing away from him, you unclasp your bra, letting the straps fall off your shoulders. Turning back around you cross your arms over yourself, holding the front of your bra in place. You inch toward the screen, to partially block his view, but he shakes his head, nodding for you to move back to where you were.

With an impatient, almost desperate sigh, you let the bra drop to the floor. You cup your breasts, squeezing them together as you pinch your nipples.

Steven loves your tits and you're sure this will get his attention. You even step closer but he doesn't even bat an eyelash.

Your slick dribbles down your thigh, and you're unable to remember the last time you were so turned on.

Steven's about to beat the level, and you feel as if you could come if he even touches you.

He waits until he's victorious, pumping his fist in a way that resembles something Marc would do, but just when you think you'll have his undivided attention, he starts the next level, conversing with his friends online as if you aren't even there.

You're about to drop to your knees and suck him off, just to see him lose some shred of control, but he glances up at you with a wry smile and pats his lap.

Slowly, you ease forward and down, ready to straddle his leg. Maybe you can at least ride his thick thigh and get yourself off.

But as you settle in, he whispers on your ear. "Sit on it. And be still."

Chomping on your lip, you fight back a moan, shifting your hips until you line yourself up with his tip. After a moment of hesitation, you sink down, gasping loudly as he stretches and fills you.

Rocking your hips, you start to fuck him, finally feeling a second of relief before he orders you to stop.

You whimper, rebelliously riding him for a few more delicious thrusts before he glares at you. "Stop it."

You moan, your walls fluttering desperately around his cock. Submissively, you lay your head against his chest, curling your body around his.

Steven’s never acted like this before. He’s never told you what to do or given you anything but his utter devotion, his whole heart and undivided attention.

“There you go,” he says darkly, and you can hear his friend on the headset reply, assuming he’s talking about their progress in the game.

You can’t concentrate on anything but Steven, from the smell of his neck to the pulsing of his thick cock inside you. The warmth of his chest against yours through the thin cotton of his t-shirt…the vibration of his voice as he talks on his headset.

Your breath comes in heated puffs on his neck as you keep yourself still, desire surging through your body like a powerful drug, compelling you to remain motionless a little longer. Still, you can’t help but shift your weight slightly every few minutes.

Without realizing it, you moan against his throat every time you shift, and in return, Steven loses his train of thought and rocks his hips into you by only a fraction.

As soon as your brain registers it, however, you start to subtly grind against him, half expecting him to order you to stop. But he meets your thrusting with controlled movements of his own.

You keep taunting one another back and forth until you’re slowly fucking.

It feels so good. You know you’re close. You reach for his face, touching it tenderly before brushing your mouth over his. He kisses your lips softly, then shakes his head, but you don’t let him go far. You knock his headset off and kiss a trail to his ear.

“Fuck me, Steven,” you pant and start riding him vigorously.

The controller drops from his hand to the floor with a thud as he grips your hips, pulling you down hard as he fucks up into you, lips seeking out your own.

Finally feeling all of his attention on you, his cock touching you so deep inside, his tongue in your mouth, his breath on your lips, you come fast and hard, your body seizing in euphoric pleasure. Your pace slows, but he’s not done yet.

His patience has run out and he doesn't stop fucking you hard until he finishes, filling you so full it dribbles down both of your thighs. You're panting and smiling and kissing each other, having so much fun.

But this time, he forgot to mute.

steven masterlist | moon knight masterlist | main masterlist

*This lip chewing moment came straight from @silvernight-m's amazing gamer!steven art! I don't think it's posted here on tumblr yet but stay tuned. Believe it or not, I started this story before I saw the art, but it's so amazing, it sent my mind into overdrive and I just had to add that visual detail into the story.

[emiqip]

Pt.3 Apocalyptic Ponyo AU ft. Shockwave and his... kids. @keferon

For all they've been through together, this had to be the dumbest thing they've ever done- which is saying something, considering not too many months ago they collectively decided to raid the city's garbage dump not taking into account that a) there would be some kind of security system (who defends trash anyway? weirdos) b) the smell and c) the local population of possums they inevitably bothered. 

All in all, that could have even been considered a good day in Skywarp's book- yeah, they didn't find anything, they all smelled pretty fucking terrible without any way of washing the stench away and they were covered in bite marks, hoping none of those things had rabies- but they laughed and joked about it for weeks after. 

This situation, however, was anything but funny. 

Following Blue's little stunt, the remaining children left at base were informed to meet at the nearest shore, where the youngest's new... friend? Still waited for them. A few minutes of shock and surprise from both parties after, they finally decided on how to fix whatever this was. The plan was simple too: separate Blue from the sea freak, gather all of their stuff and set off to the sparkly horizon, leaving all of this behind their backs- no strings attached. 

Obviously that would've been too good to be true, something had to go wrong: of course their youngest still refused to leave, even when Damus finally gained some courage and went over to pick Blue up by force- too bad the little menace immediately started ugly sobbing. Not only that, the twins got over their fear pretty quickly, replacing it with the raw force of curiosity little kids have for anything ugly, sticky and new. Cue Soundwave being assigned as their official babysitter lest the two would sprint and try to climb the fish like a pair of coked-up squirrels. And, yeah, not the smoothest outcome but hey! Now they could, you know, leave. 

He was so so wrong. As soon as the Thing noticed they were walking away it started  chirping at them over and over, like it was calling for them to get back. Kinda sad, but they could ignore it (unless you were Blue- still crying in TC's arms while making grabby hands at the mer), what alarmed them was the fact that it started to use all of its upper body strength and try to slowly beach itself in the goal of reaching their group. Needless to say the situation called for a new plan fast- even in ten, considering its size, they still weren't enough to push it back in to the water. 

The solution was just to camp out on the shore and find a way out of this in the morning. To the absolute delight of their youngest, who decided that for the night he would be sleeping with the freak, and unsurprisingly the twins only followed by starting to poke and prod at the being, who seemed to enjoy the attention as much as them. Windcharger joined their little huddle too for the evening, explaining himself with a little shrug of his shoulders and a quick, "He's warm and I'm cold- you can freeze for one more night for all I care," and left it at that. That traitor.

Oh well, this would soon be over anyway. 

\\\

Two. Weeks. 

Two whole weeks passed since this whole charade was supposed to be over, but instead he found himself being ferried away on the wettest, most fucked up recreation of the 'Magic School Bus' he's ever seen.  Worst of all Ms. Fizzle was replaced by an oversize pancake with gills. 

This was supposed to be the closest thing to a compromise: the kids got to keep their fish and the others got a free ride trough the apocalypse- pretty sweet if you asked him.

They were slowly making their way towards what was once the busiest side of the city: he remembers coming here with his brothers and getting overwhelmed every time by the sheer amount of people bustling around. Both locals and tourists blended perfectly in a vortex of voices, faces and mannerisms. For a boy who lived at the edge, this was exhilarating. 

But the best part of this chaos were the shops windows: there was one who was squeezed between a tiny flea shop and a bakery owned by a couple of kind old people- the window's space was taken by a plethora of several vintage televisions, each of them displaying something different- his favorite old show was filmed at their local aquarium and had as protagonist a young orca mer, chirping away happily at the camera, while the crowd gasped in awe at the adorable display. 

He saw his face stare right back at him from the surface of the water. Tired eyes, sunken cheeks and hair grown matted and way too long- what would he do to reverse it all and go back to their shitty daily life. 

From the front of their unusual mean of transportation, he could hear the youngest kids screaming and laughing, more likely pestering the mer like a swarm of particularly persistent flies. Being too focused on eavesdropping the racket, he didn't notice Damus approaching him on unsteady feet. 

"I saw a billboard a few minutes ago: big bright and with the directions to the biggest mall in the city- I'd say we are overdue for a scavenger hunt to restock our resources, what do you say?" The older asked, before staring off into the distance. 

"Sure, why the hell not? I'm pretty sick and tired of eating only fish anyway- cheers to the big guy for catching it for us though." He absentmindedly patted the mer, earning a pleased rumble up ahead.

With a brief nod of assent, he took off to most likely talk to Skids- the teen, after a very intense game of charades, managed to establish a method to communicate with their newest addition, he was even successful in teaching the fishman some very simple words, and in turn the mer taught him some of his language: it was mainly made up of sounds and gestures but Skids, being the fast learner that he was, took to them pretty quickly- a shame that he never had the chance to attend a public school, he would've at the top of his classes for sure. 

He felt the mass he was sitting on stir briefly, as the massive mer changed the course of their journey. The scenery around them slowly changed: hills of crumbled and deformed buildings gave way to a forest of skyscrapers looming over all of them like giant concrete pillars. Since the wave hit, putting a stop to all human activity, nature was steadily taking over- vines descended from a top of buildings, patches of seaweed and sea flora were dotting the submerged asphalted streets. 

They watched in awe as schools of brilliant colored tropical fish darted past them- he heard Blue squeal along the lines of, "Sir. Pancake! Look, it's you!" when a familiar looking shark swam past them.  He could vaguely recognize some of the roads and alleyways, now nearly completely covered by corals and anemones, housing a variety of oceanic wildlife.

Despite everything, there was still beauty left in this abandoned world. 

\\\ 

The dark gaping maw leading inside the mall stared right back at them. Having no way to access the lower levels, since they were long lost under the waves, they had to find another way in- one of the walls had luckily given away to the erosion of the water, leaving the perfect entry point for them and their fishy companion. They were all well aware the mer wasn't too keen on leaving them alone for too long without becoming restless, so this was a win-win situation.

As the shadows progressively engulfed them, the smell of dampness and mold welcomed them inside. He felt TC's hand grabbing his right sleeve to catch his attention, as he turned around he saw his brother pointing at the water with his mouth agape. 

What he saw made him inhale quickly in complete surprise- a pool of neon blue light surrounded them from all sides, swaying gently at the rhythm of the mer's movements. 

"...bioluminescent algae- read about them once, but I never thought I would ever see them for myself." He heard TC whisper softly at him. 

"Woah, this is so fucking cool..." Soft murmurs of assent from his siblings filled the silence he left behind, as they all watched the water entranced by the spectacle of lights. 

They were all suddenly woken up from their trance by a brisk movement from their means of transport that almost made all of them topple over into the water. Apparently 'Sides decided he wanted to touch the pretty blue lights, nearly taking a dip for himself if the mer didn't glance over and quickly caught the little kid with one of his huge webbed hands. At least the pest had the decency to look away sheepishly at the mer's silent but admonishing expression. 

Without any other close calls, they made it to what was once the food court- a huge circular dome where the pavement had partially collapsed, leaving behind a slope where dry land and water could meet, the perfect place to finally get down and stretch their legs after hours of swimming around. Trailbreaker reached into his ridiculously big backpack and started passing around a bunch of flashlights- the teen liked to be prepared for anything, even if that meant bringing around some additional weight. 

The moment his feet met the ground he let out a happy sigh- exploring the sunken city was great and all, but nothing could compare to the chance of finally burning all of his residual energy. Damus clapped his hands to get everyone's attention and started his usual spiel before any resource-gathering trip. 

"Alright everyone, you know the drill: six of us are going in pair to explore the building- pick up only things you think will come in hand, leave everything else. Do not take more then you need, we are not the only survivors around, so let's not doom other people only because we felt a little bit greedy today. See something? Scream. Lastly, the brats stay here with Sir. Pancake, while one of us will also remain to keep watch- can I have a drum roll for our lucky winner?" The question was met with an enthusiastic chorus of voices. 

"Aand- Trailbreaker you're up!"

"Awh man- what?" The teen sagged his shoulders as Windcharger smugly patted his arm. 

"Look at the bright side dude: you'll have fish-dad helping you this time." 

"Not helpin' Charger, kudos for trying though..." Trailbreaker's muffled response came from behind his hands, as the other kid only shrugged and joined Skids to prepare for departure. 

In the meantime, Skywarp gingerly hooked his right arm with TC's, leading him towards one of the halls connected to the dome.  From the ceiling stray cables and crumbled pieces of drywall dangled freely, occasionally disturbed by a gentle breeze coming from inside the hallway. He gave himself a few seconds to glance behind his back: the children, in the few minutes they arrived, had apparently started their very own game of tag, skidding away on the wet floor, completely unbothered by what was happening around them. Trailbreaker, accepting his fate, decided to use this time to clean the barrel of his shotgun, while sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the mer's arm.

The creature however was looking apprehensively at them: worry and fret swirled in his blue eyes- they all knew he didn't like to see them leave, but this was necessary. He absentmindedly threw him his best calming smile, hoping to reassure him enough. The mer was briefly taken by surprise before nodding and giving Skywarp a hasty nod. 

 'I trust you.'

"Good luck everyone! If you're not back in an hour we'll come find your sorry asses, so be on time- I'm talking to you Skids!" Damus voice bounced on the walls of the abandoned building. 

"...you get lost one time-" The cut-off whispered replay of his sibling was the last thing he heard before entering the hall with TC in tow. 

\\\

Their wet footfalls was the only noise filling in the utter silence around them.

The bright beams of their flashlights cutting through the thick wall of darkness. Now that he had the chance to look at it up close, he could pinpoint exactly when life had come to a stop between these molded walls: on tiny cafe tables sat long forgotten coffee stained cups, the occasional eerily empty stroller was abandoned haphazardly in the middle of the hallway, still pale mannequins were silent witnesses to the disaster, while purses and toys littered the floors. Moments frozen in time. 

He felt himself shudder, trying to shake off the feeling of wrongness from his shoulders. 

So far they found only a couple of useful things, mainly industrial tape, iron wire and other items from a hardware store they had just raided. All the possibly edible things they dug up have all been either completely or partially covered in mold- all of this moisture made it difficult for things to stay fresh, especially since electricity had been one of the first things they'd lost to the massive wave, completely cutting off all of power to fridges. 

Hopefully the others had been more lucky, he really wasn't looking forward to another overcooked sardine- none of them had always been the greatest cook after all and he doubted Sir. Pancake knew his way around a stove. Great now he was thinking about the mer holding a comically small pan, while wearing a pink frilly apron with the words 'Kiss The Fish' printed on the front- 

He was interrupted mid-giggle by TC's pointy elbow digging into his side- which he was about to comment on before his brother nudged him again, signaling with his light to something on the wall. 

"Storage Room." Read his sibling aloud, with a knowing smile.

"Fucking jackpot, baby!" Skywarp blurred out- ooh the joy he'll feel when they'll be able to shove in their losers sibling faces a box full of protein bars. 

A wide new hallway opened up for them, at the end of it he could discern the top of a pair of rusted shut down automatic stairs. They eagerly hurried down them, impatience and hunger for discovery was eating away at them- before diving waist deep into a pool of freezing water. 

They both startled for a few seconds, and then realization hit. They both forgot the lower levels were entirely flooded, but thankfully water didn't seem too high from what they could see through the darkness- hopefully the floor was built on the same level and didn't suddenly dip under them. The water was way too murky to see what was happening under the surface, and that did nothing to appease the apprehension this place was giving off in waves- he suddenly felt the shivers he shrugged off return in full force. 

"Thunders, not gonna lie, I have a bad feeling about this." His whisper echoed on the walls enclosing them. 

"Yeah... I feel like there's something we're missing." The other confessed, as they slowly trudged forward. "It's been scratching my brain since we passed that cafè...".

"Right?! I feel the same... all that chaos and we only find a bunch of litter on the floor-"

Thundercracker stopped abruptly in his path, making him stop too. 

"Uh- TC, you okay?" He lifted his torch to better look at his brother. 

"...the corpses."

"Oh! Yeah, this was a very busy place, how come we haven't found... any... corpses..."

One of the worst mistakes humanity ever made, was to think that they had any chance at being on top of the food chain. Centuries of time spent spreading and conquering all known continents, had led them to believe that nothing could touch them if they hid behind their big wars and even bigger weapons. However, Hubris is the first deadly sin, condemned to be a human's last. 

From the void, a pair of bulging white eyes stared back at him. A gaping maw full of jagged yellowed teeth, was framed by two lines of receding gums barely attached to the skull. Ivory white plaques covered a shiny metal body underneath, decorating a lizard-like muscular frame, still as stone- like a spring ready to be released. 

They were moving even before his brain could catch up with him. Fight or flight on full force- his main goal was to get away and do it fast.  

Thundercracker quickly followed him, as he felt the large creature pounce towards them. 

Climbing the stairs and reaching the top almost slipping down and falling on his brother. 

They sprinted down the hall- heavy footsteps never too far behind as the beast snapped his monstrous jaws, trying to catch them. 

Blurs of the coffee shop and hardware store passed next to them, as realization hit him once more- they were bringing a human-eating mutant right to their little brothers. 

'See something? Scream.'

And screaming he did. 

His alarmed voice filled the dome as in a moment of distraction his foot slipped on a nearby puddle, leaving him to fall face first unto the hard ground- hopefully his little siblings where not stupid enough to try and come help him. 

He knew this was coming. 

A hot breeze hit the back of his head, as the stench of death reached his nostrils. The heavy weight of a massive clawed paw, pressed him flat on the floor, painfully crushing his chest. He wanted to say he had been brave enough to face his fate, but instead he hid his face inside the crook of his elbow, heaving a last breath verging on a whimper- he only wanted to help his family, and this is how he died, it felt a bit like deja-vu...

Too busy giving thought to his adrenaline infused rants, he didn't immediately feel the crushing weight being suddenly lifted off of him- a giant wall of muscle and pure unbridled fury, tackled the beast into the other side of the room. A low guttural threatening growl woke him up from his stupor and he was on his feet in seconds- the now enraged mer stood between Skywarp and the monster. 

The teen almost didn't recognize him, a completely mirrored image of the usually peaceful creature- what was once a beacon of gentleness, who always moved like he knew he could easily hurt any of them, oh so very careful of his size and strength- now gave away to a terrifying predator, claws and fangs fully on display and ready to use. 

The mutant pounced once again, now his attention taken solely by the mer, who in tow used his massive tail to spring forward and grab the monster by the tail- hastily pulling it towards the water where he could've a clear advantage. 

Too focused on the feral brawl, he didn't hear Damus' muffled voice calling him through the static ringing in his ears.  

"-warp, we need to move! Shit, Skywarp move your ass, goddamnit!" A hand forcefully grabbed his left arm, before he was pulled to his unsteady feet. The front of his shirt was snatched and he felt himself move and duck behind a nearby counter- his eyes never leaving the fight.

If this thing was anything else, now it would be long dead- but unfortunately genetics were on its side. The ivory armor covering its body made for an impenetrable defense- meaning, it was not only built to hunt things smaller than itself, but also to wear out bigger predators and use twist their tiredness on them to deal the final blow. 

"...he's not going to make it." 

"Uh? What are you talking ab-?" 

"He'll lose- WE HAVE TO HELP HIM!"

A still out-of-breath Thundercracker slowly approached him with his hands held up, like he was placating a wild animal and not his own brother. 

"Warp, please be reasonable- What chance do we have against that thing? Bullets will not work and we can't risk hitting our only ally against it, we shou-"

"What? Run? I'm not going to save my ass while someone else is going to die- you're not making me give him the Smokey treatment, no chance in hell." 

Only the sound of the background fight remained, as a mournful silence descended upon them. That name was bound to stir flashes of awful memories in all of them- the darkest times since the beginning of their broken little family. Their missing piece, forever lost. 

"...what's the plan?" The trembling voice of their youngest broke the silence. 

Skywarp drew in a ragged breath as he blurred out their only chance for all of them to get out of this alive. 

"Metal! The- that thing's body is made of metal underneath, if we can find a way to electrocute it, its own body is going to act as a super-conduct and fry it's organs from the inside out." 

"Me and 'Charger found a small generator not too far from here, I think we can use it," Skid's chimed in from the back of their little huddle, "we attach some cables on it and pinch that thing- than boom fried fish." 

With a plan in mind they all moved like a bunch of frenzied rats. Windcharger and Skids ran to fetch the generator, while Soundwave followed them in case they needed to jump-start it. The kids were ordered to stay put and not engage, as the others watched the fight, waiting for their time to strike. 

But as they took in every detail of what was happening, it was clear they had run out of time. The mer was clearly using the last of his energies to just keep the thing still- deep bleeding wounds littered his frame, one of his eyes was closed off by a cut that run at the center of his face, as he gasped for breath- eye dazed and a shaky pupil stared at his enemy. 

He registered his siblings returning with the small generator, but he was quick to snatch the cables attached to it from Soundwaves' hands. 

"We don't have time- I'm going to do something crazy, but it'll be fine!" He cried out, ignoring his siblings' shouted protests- metal was not the only super-conduct present in the dome. 

As he skidded to a stop and knelt near the water, he felt time slow down. He watched as the mutant freed itself and in a few seconds snapped its mouth on the mer's side, trying to rip off a large chunk of meat. The mer let out a haunting pain-filled cry, as he desperately used his last energies to claw at the mutants' skull, in hopes of getting it to let go. 

Skywarp had to act now.

Before he plucked the sparkling cables into the pool, he glanced once more not expecting to lock eye with the blue one of the mer- illuminated by the blue hue of the algae, covered in gaping wounds and suffering immense pain, was smiling at him- one of those familial calming smiles that he became used to on a daily basis, since their crazy companionship began. 

'I trust you.'

Those same eyes that were looking at him with only fondness, suddenly became bloodshot as an immense wave of energy traveled through his frame in a matter of seconds. Skywarp felt his, now free, hands tremble with adrenaline as they all watched their guardian being electrocuted- and with him the beast.

What had been merely moments, felt like hours. 

They won. 

The limp body of the beast slowly sunk into the depths dragged by it's own heavy body, as the victor stood tall in the middle of the dome. Water fell from his broad back in droplets, a deep purple hue cloaked him from underneath- the algae, who soon changed color after being hit by the wave of electricity. The mer red blood-shot eye never left his gaze as he held the other half of his face, covering his wounded eye with a clawed hand.

Skywarp and his brothers watched as their guardian's form eventually staggered and swayed, until his worn body hit the shore with a shuddering thud. A keening sound left the mer's mouth as his body convulsed a couple of times, before finally settling into a fetal position. 

A small blur rounded the counter he left behind his shoulders- Blue sprinted towards the now still body of the mer, halting himself near his head before hugging it as best as he could. 

"Get up... please, you have to get up- I don't want to leave you here," A sob escaped the little kid as he gently pushed at the mer's cheek, "please Sir.Panca- Dad, get up..."

Slowly they all began to huddle around the still-breathing, even if ragged, body of their guardian- the mer shuddered as he gently lifted his head to nudge soothingly at his youngest. He looked over all of them, as if to assure himself that nobody was injured, until he locked eyes with Skywarp once again. The mer cooed, lifting his hand to beckon him to come closer. 

The teen got up on unsteady legs and made his way toward his guardian, collapsing into the crook of his massive neck. As a clawed hand started caressing his back, he found it so difficult to hold in his tears. 

"I'm sorry- this is all my fault," he wailed, "and now you're hurt and- and I did this to you... when you've been nothing but gentle and patient with us from the beginning... some fucking friend I am." 

"...hurt?" He was taken by surprise as the mer spoke to him- a thick warped accented voice. 

"What? No, you big dummie- I'm not hurt..." 

His guardian had the gull to smile down at him- the huge fucking sap. He couldn't help but smile in tow as he felt Bluestreak join their little hug, and settle himself down to nap away the residual adrenaline. 

He watched as his siblings sat all around them- weapons in hand, standing on guard and silently daring anything or anyone to attack their guardian. 

Yeah, he was not ready for this to end just yet.

[dearsubong]

if choi su bong ✞ was your baby daddy .ᐟ

about ✧ headcannons about choi su bong being your baby daddy. a lot of sfw/not much nsfw

warnings ✧ 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff

an ✧ this was going to be headcannons of nam gyu dae ho jun ho and in ho too but i was too lazy and need to post 😩

SFW

in pregnancy, he’s gotten softer and stopped everything, trying to stop his addiction and stop going out all the time. for you. for your baby.

he would watch those youtube videos and tiktoks about ‘how to relieve your pregnant wife from pregnancy’ or similar subjects.

he secretly came up behind you and held your heavy belly. you gasped at the unexpected touch but felt relieved as you felt the weight come off your body.

“that’s nice, su bong.” your head falls back to his shoulder behind you and sigh deeply. he smiles at your satisfaction.

“i’m glad, babe.” he murmured against your ear.

you really said ‘i can fix him’ because when he’s around you, he’s putty.

and yet, around others, he’s still strict but jokes around.

in public, when you and him are having a walk or in the mall to eat and/or shop, his arm is always around your shoulder, telling everyone around him that’s you’re his with just his eyes and eyebrows, raising them up and down when some guy looks at you.

with his friends, he DEFINITELY brags. he would just yap about your pregnancy to them about 3 quarters of the time. other quarter is that he isn’t there. he’s taking care of you ♡︎

after chul was born, he’s gotten a lot more protective even thought he already was extremely protective before him.

he would teach chul some of his lyrics, the most popular, ‘bang bang bang’ with little finger guns.

you knew that because a random time when chul ran up to you and wanted to show you something. he had did that same thing his appa taught him.

chul put up finger guns and saying, “bang, bang, bang!” before running off—a bit obviously to his father—giggling. “let’s go!” he yelled before running into chul’s room. you felt like you were taking care of su bong as well.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

even when you were pregnant, that didn’t stop him from fucking you.

he’d pound your fucking brains out, dumbifying you. he would try to be gentle since you still have a baby bump.

sometimes, when you wanted to please him, he’d let you ride him. although, you’d get tired a bit quickly so he held you up and fucked into you upwards.

but when he got you to give him a blow job, oh, he’d thrust his dick so far down your throat that his dick was bulging out of your neck.

he’s only trying to feed his unborn baby ♡︎

if you miss a drop of his cum, he’d pout and whine about you trying to starve your unborn baby.

“babyyy! he needs to be fed.” he argues even though he already swallowed a dump of his sperm in your throat.

you would fuck when chul was in the other room. yeah, you two were loud, but who cares? not like chul would understand.

yeah, no…

one dinner time, he mentioned it.

“eomma, appa, what were you two doing last night?” you and su bong froze, looking at each other, deciding who should respond.

you hurriedly replied first. “oh, we were just—talking. sorry, we’re we loud?” you blush.

he nods. “all i could hear was ‘a-ahhhh, su bong! right there!’ and a lot more. who’s su bong, eomma?”

chul didn’t know yours and su bongs name yet.

but you and him were shocked at the mimic. “accurate.” su bong replies amusingly. you slap his arm and his pouts, whining dramatically.

at times, when he’s really needy and horny, he’d fuck you in the kitchen, on the counter. all while chul was watching a cartoon in the living room, too glued to the show to even bother to you and him.

you would try to be quiet as hard as you can, covering your mouth, muffling what could’ve been loud moans and—

taking the back shots so well ♡︎

[fear-is-truth]

how do you think patrick will react when you try to break things off with him?

breaking up with patrick bateman .ᐟ.ᐟ

tw ; mentions of drug use, homicide

a/n: apologies for the word salad.. my brain is kinda fried from my classes. also he’s such a pretty crier

𝜗ϱ ┆ denial & gaslighting

his immediate reaction would likely be disbelief. the idea of someone rejecting him, particularly someone he views as an extension of his life, would be incomprehensible to him. this disbelief would manifest as condescension and dismissal, accompanied by gaslighting.

“you’re leaving me?” he’d say with a strained smile, eyes narrowing to slits. “that’s ridiculous. you don’t mean that.”

patrick wouldn’t process the emotional weight of your decision, instead assuming that you’re acting irrationally or that something external has influenced you. his need to maintain control would drive him to undermine your perspective, likely accusing you of being under the influence of drugs.

“have you been doing too much cocaine? or maybe those diet pills? you’re not thinking clearly, darling.”

this gaslighting would be less about convincing you and more about reinforcing his own denial. patrick lives in a world where his perception is reality, and your decision to leave disrupts that. denial is his first line of defense.

𝜗ϱ ┆ manipulation & desperation

as the conversation continues, patrick would pivot to emotional manipulation. while he lacks true empathy, he is an expert at imitating emotional responses to “fit in”. he’d beg you to reconsider, framing his argument that appeals to your sense of loyalty or guilt.

“think about everything i’ve done for you. everything we’ve had together. you can’t just walk away.”

if manipulation doesn’t work, his desperation would become more overt. while patrick is typically composed, cracks in his facade could begin to show. you might see a flash of raw panic in his eyes.

“you don’t know what you’re doing. you’re making a mistake.”

𝜗ϱ ┆ begging

patrick would eventually resort to begging, and this is where the irony comes in—remember the time he dumped evelyn with an air of theatrical superiority, telling her that she’s “simply not terribly important” to him.

“you can’t do this to me. please, don’t go. we can work this out—whatever this is, we can fix it. i’ll change.”

of course, he is incapable of real change, and his promises would ring hollow. but the desperation in his voice would feel oddly genuine.

𝜗ϱ ┆“i need to return some videotapes.”

when it becomes clear that he can’t sway you, patrick would retreat, unwilling to let you witness the full extent of his unraveling. maintaining appearances is critical, even in moments of personal crisis. with a curt, almost robotic tone, he’d excuse himself with his signature non sequitur:

“i need to return some videotapes.”

this statement, bizarre and out of place, serves two purposes. first, it allows him to escape the confrontation without completely breaking down in front of you. second, it reaffirms his facade of control.

𝜗ϱ ┆ private despair

once alone, patrick would no longer be able to hold himself together. the breakup would be a complete fracturing of his identity. while he outwardly projects confidence, his inner world is fragile and deeply insecure. your rejection would strip away the validation he relies on to maintain his ego. he’d cry—silent, bitter tears of frustration and humiliation.

𝜗ϱ ┆ homicide as a coping mechanism

but patrick is incapable of processing emotions in a healthy way, so the tears wouldn’t lead to introspection or change. instead, they’d fuel a darker spiral—he’d channel his feelings of loss into compulsive, destructive behaviour. violence is often an outlet for him, and your departure could serve as a catalyst for a spree of homicidal acts. (e.g killing homeless people)

[levanterhaze]

SUPERNATURAL, BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬producer!bangchan x f!reader praise kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, possessiveness, creampie, mention of anxiety, slightly toxic relationship, phone sex, dirty talk, fingering, thigh riding, overstimulation, masturbation (both receiving), angst and a bit of fluff bc why not?

♡ synopsis ― You left Bangchan to protect your heart. He waited, hoping you'd come back. A silent month, one crowded room, and the gravity between you never left. Some loves don’t vanish—they haunt, they ache, and if you’re lucky, they bloom again.

[14.3k words ]♡― guys, it was supposed to be a one-shot, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it all at once? rude. so i decided to split it in half and tomorrow i'll post the second part!

This love's possessin' me, but I don't mind at all It's like supernatural It's takin' over me, don't wanna fight the fall It's like supernatural

Bangchan never thought you’d actually dump him. Not him. Not when he spoiled you rotten, kissed every bratty little pout off your lips, and let you steal the covers every damn night without a single complaint.

But you did.

You broke up with him on a random Tuesday, mascara clinging to your lashes, pout on your lips, arms crossed tight like you were trying to hold yourself together. You didn’t want to leave — he could see it all over your face — but you did it anyway. Because apparently "love isn't enough when all we do is fight," or some other dramatic bullshit you said while he sat there blinking at you like you’d just grown two heads.

He laughed. Actually laughed.

"You're breaking up with me?" he repeated, like the words didn’t even make sense in the same sentence. You? Leaving him? The girl he practically worshiped? His spoiled pretty girl who threw a fit when he forgot to buy her favorite snack, but still made his whole damn world brighter?

Yeah, no. He wasn't letting you just walk away like it was some casual Tuesday errand.

But you were stubborn. Always had been. You slammed the door to his apartment like you meant it, like you weren't about to miss the way he pulled you onto his lap every time you argue just to shut you up with his mouth.

Spoiler alert: you missed it.

And Chan? Chan was a fucking mess. 

Studio sessions got longer. Songs got sadder. His friends started looking at him like he was one bad day away from showing up at your place with a giant boombox over his head. And honestly? He almost did.

You were still everywhere — in the worn hoodie you stole, in the coffee order he still got wrong because you weren’t there to fix it, in the damn songs he tried and failed to write without thinking of you first. You were the muse he never asked for but needed like oxygen. The bratty, perfect princess who ruined him for anyone else.

So yeah. You thought you could just walk out of his life? Cute.

Because Bangchan had a plan now: He was going to get you back — messy, dirty, stubborn and completely in love with you.

No matter what it took.

Luckily for him — or maybe unluckily, depending on how you looked at it — you had way friends in common. Which meant every time there was a party, Bangchan knew you'd show up. And he used every damn opportunity to haunt your space like a lovesick idiot with a cocky smile.

And fuck, did he miss you.

He missed your laugh, your stupid eye-rolls, the way you stole his hoodies and looked ten times better in them. He missed your mouth — talking shit, teasing him, gasping for him. He missed how you’d curl up against him at night and pretend you weren’t clingy. He missed how you were a pain in the ass and his favorite thing in the world at the same time.

He could make a fucking list. It would take him until sunrise. 

His spoiled little brat. His princess. His goddamn downfall.

One of those nights, after a brutal day at the studio, Bangchan stumbled home at nearly three in the morning, muscles aching, brain fried. He should've passed out the second his head hit the pillow.

But no. His brain decided to go into hyperdrive, and every single fucking thought led right back to you.

After a hot shower, he sat on the edge of his bed, hair dripping, sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. He grabbed his phone like it weighed a thousand pounds.

He stared at your contact. The one still saved under that stupid nickname he used to whisper in your ear when you got bratty just to hear you whine. The one no one else would ever understand — your secret language.

He should’ve gone to sleep. He really should’ve. 

Instead, he muttered "fuck it" under his breath and pressed call.

Impulse. Stupidity. Loneliness. Love. Maybe all of the above.

But he just needed to hear your voice. Even if you hated him for it.

Bangchan honestly didn’t expect you to pick up. Especially not at ass-o’clock in the morning. But the second your voice floated into his ear — sleepy, annoyed, real — his heart damn near jumped out of his chest.

"Still awake?" he asked, voice low, rough with exhaustion and something else he didn’t dare name.

You sighed like he was the biggest inconvenience in the world. "What do you want?"

He leaned back against the headboard, squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to say the first hundred filthy, desperate things that came to mind.

"I miss you," he said instead, voice soft, almost boyish.

You didn’t answer right away. He heard the faint rustle of your bedsheets, imagined you curled up with your laptop, rolling your eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

"And how exactly," you said sweetly, "is that my problem?"

Chan winced, grinning despite himself. Damn, he missed that mouth of yours. The way you could make him want to kiss you and bend you over in the same breath.

"Ouch. Don’t be snippy, princess," he teased, letting the nickname slip, letting it cut you both a little. "We both know you don't actually want to be."

You bristled. He could practically feel it through the line. You didn’t want to be rude. You wanted to be angry. There was a difference and you were losing the fight fast.

"Are you done?" you snapped, fake-sweet. "I'm hanging up."

"Wait! Wait, princess, c'mon..." he rushed, sitting up straighter, hand dragging through his damp hair in frustration. "You really don’t miss me?"

Silence.

It was deafening. Torturous. Delicious.

He let it stretch just long enough before letting his voice drop, dirty and coaxing.

"Don't lie to me," he said slowly. "I bet you're sitting there all pretty in bed, pouting at your screen, squeezing your thighs together because you can't even think about me without getting worked up."

"You sound drunk," you hissed, but your voice was shaking.

"Believe me, I’m not," he chuckled darkly. "I just know exactly what you need, even better than you do."

You hated him. You hated how good he was at getting under your skin.

You hated that your body responded before your brain even caught up.

"Go to sleep, Chan," you muttered, but it sounded weak, pathetic even to your own ears.

"Not until you say you miss me," he pushed, voice downright sinful now. "Or better yet... say my name like you used to when I had you squirming under me."

Your whole body burned.

Bangchan grinned into the silence. He could wait all night if he had to. After all... when it came to you, he never fucking gave up.

"Bangchan, we're done. It doesn't matter," you said, trying — and failing — to keep your voice flat.

Your eyes flicked back to your laptop, pretending you could still focus on the blurry article in front of you. But all you could actually hear was him — that stupid voice, low and raspy and somehow everywhere.

"It matters to me," he said, softer now, almost cocky. "I miss you, you know. All fucking day."

It wasn’t what he said — it was how he said it. That wrecked, teasing tone like he was right there, mouth at your ear, smirking when he saw the goosebumps rise on your skin.

"Stop saying bullshit like that," you snapped, but it was weak. Pathetic. You hated how easily he could undo you with nothing but his voice.

Bangchan has always been your greatest weakness. And he knew it.

"I wish you were here," he rasped. Silence fell. Thick. Heavy.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding way too fast. You slammed your laptop shut with a frustrated groan, tossing it to the side.

Studying was officially over.

"It's almost three," you hissed, hugging your knees to your chest like it would somehow protect you from how stupidly warm you felt.

"Exactly," he said, that cocky smile dripping through the phone.

Bangchan was sprawled out in bed, back against the headboard, sweatpants slung low. Eyes closed, hand fisting the sheets because just thinking about you — your bratty little voice, your body, your mouth — had him half-hard already.

"What were you even doing at this hour, huh?" His voice dropped, that slow, lazy slur that always meant trouble.

You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see. "Studying. I have an exam next week."

Bangchan let out a low grunt of approval that vibrated straight down your spine. It made you shift uncomfortably, thighs pressing together on instinct.

"That’s my brilliant girl," he murmured, voice thick with awe.

Your stomach flipped. Your whole body burned. And you hated yourself for the way you smiled into the darkness like an idiot.

The words caused irreversible damage to your mind. Bangchan knew exactly what he was doing — that wicked, cocky little smirk playing on his lips like he could already feel your walls crumbling.

He knew how you loved being praised. How dirty words slid under your skin and stayed there, rotting you sweet.

"I'm not your girl," you shot back, weak, stupidly defensive.

He chuckled, low and dirty. "You’ll always be mine, princess."

God, that voice. That fucking voice.

It made your thighs press tight without permission, heat blooming under your skin like wildfire. The room suddenly felt suffocating.

"Bangchan, I'm fucking serious," you said through gritted teeth, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to will him  and yourself  into behaving.

"Yeah, same," he muttered, so casually it made you want to throw your phone across the room. Then he paused — and the silence wrapped around your throat like a velvet rope. "Do you still wear my clothes?" he asked, almost smug.

Your whole body jolted like you’d been caught red-handed.

Because yes, you were still curled up in his old T-shirt right now, drowning in it, still obsessed with how it smelled like him. Still stupidly aching for a boy you pretended to hate.

"No," you lied, instantly hating yourself for how fake it sounded.

Bangchan let out a lazy, knowing laugh. "Liar."

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly fell out. "Actually, I burned everything," you snarked, sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Mhm," he hummed, voice thick and teasing. "I bet you’re wearing it now. Nothing else underneath."

He shifted on his bed, the mic picking up the delicious rumple of sheets.

"Fuck, just thinking about it..." His breath hitched. "You have no fucking idea what you do to me, princess."

You clenched the phone so tight your knuckles turned white, heat pooling low in your belly, unbearable and sweet. You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath.

"Want me to tell you what I’m picturing right now?" he asked, voice filthy, honey-thick. 

Like a devil whispering in your ear.

You should have said no. You didn’t.

"In my shirt. No panties," he murmured. "Squeezing those pretty thighs together 'cause you’re aching so bad for me." He chuckled darkly when you didn’t respond — didn’t have words anymore — like he could see straight through the phone how wrecked you were becoming. "I know you, baby. I know you’re wet just hearing my voice."

You whimpered before you could catch yourself, face burning. You buried your face in the pillow, mortified.

"I can almost feel it, you know," Bangchan rasped. "How tight you always get for me. Fuck. The way you used to whine when I fucked you slow, made you cry for it."

Your whole body trembled.

The desperate, humiliating slickness between your legs soaked through your panties, leaving you throbbing, aching for relief.

"Don't..." you gasped, so weak, so embarrassingly close to shoving your hand under the waistband and finishing yourself off to nothing but his voice.

"Don't what?" he taunted, smug as hell now. "Don't make you cum without even touching you? Shit, princess, you’re so easy for me. You always were."

You bit your lip so hard it hurt, a desperate little noise catching in your throat.

"If you were here," he groaned, the sound making you whimper, "you’d see the mess you made of me. Hard as a fucking rock for you. Only you."

You closed your eyes — and that was your first mistake.

Because the second you imagined him, sprawled out lazy and wrecked on his bed, cock tenting his sweatpants, leaking just from thinking about you, you were done for.

"I could fuck my hand," he rasped, voice thick and ragged, "but it wouldn't be the same without you. Should be your pretty little mouth drooling on my cock right now."

"Chan..." you gasped, helpless, your free hand already sliding into your panties like it had a mind of its own.

Fuck him. Fuck him for making you this way. Horny. Hopeless. So easy.

If that was his plan all along, he’d won.

Bangchan groaned softly at the sound of your breath hitching. He could feel you through the phone — could see you in his mind, legs spread wide, fingers playing with your dripping cunt, just the way he liked it.

Fuck. It should be his fingers knuckle-deep inside you, his cock stretching you open until you forgot your own name.

He reached into his boxers, hissing through his teeth as he wrapped his palm around his aching cock, smearing the leaking pre-cum around the tip with a slow, dirty twist of his wrist.

"Angel," he growled, voice ruined and low, "stick those fingers in your pussy. Let me hear you fuck yourself for me. Is that what you want? My fingers in your tight little pussy, making you drip all over my hand?"

A moan tore itself from your lips — raw and real — and his cock twitched at the sound.

"Yeah, fuck. Whine for me," he urged. "Say my name like I'm there, fucking you so slow it drives you crazy."

"That's wrong..." you whimpered, but your voice betrayed you — soft, needy, trembling.

And worse, he could hear the obscene slickness of your fingers moving between your folds. He could hear how wet you were.

"Fuck," he groaned. He squeezed the base of his cock, fucking up into his fist, pre-cum slicking him up, panting like he was already right on the edge. "Wish you were here, princess... wish you were on your knees, swallowing every inch like the good girl you are."

You bit your lip so hard it almost bled, hips rocking desperately into your own touch, mind blank except for him him him —

"How's it feel, baby?" he taunted, voice molten. "How's it feel to fuck yourself thinking about my cock splitting you open?"

"So good," you choked out, pathetic and ruined.

"Stick another finger in," he commanded, and you obeyed blindly, whimpering at the stretch, at the shame of how much you needed it. "Think of my fingers making you drip down your thighs. Making a fucking mess of you."

You rubbed frantic circles over your clit, needy noises spilling from your lips without permission, fingers pumping in and out of your tight, soaking hole.

It wasn’t enough. You needed him. Needed his weight crushing you into the mattress, his teeth against your throat, his cock inside you, claiming every inch.

"I'm so fucking hard, shit baby," Bangchan growled, breathing like he was seconds away from snapping. "Wanna fuck that snippy mouth until you couldn’t speak."

You whimpered, high and broken, hand moving faster and faster, chasing the blinding, hot rush pooling low in your belly.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—" you gasped, hips stuttering. "I'm gonna—Chan—"

Bangchan didn't stop, didn't let up.

"My pretty girl, cumming on her fingers like a desperate little whore for me," he moaned, voice all grit and pleasure. "Cum for me. Fucking cum all over yourself thinking about my cock fucking you dumb.”

A ragged cry ripped from your throat  “Oh fuck, yes!” as you felt hot slickness gush from your pussy, spilling over your fingers, making a filthy mess.

Bangchan’s mind spiraled, picturing you like this: spread open and desperate, cumming hard with his cock buried ass-deep inside you, slamming into you over and over, stuffing you full of his cum, ruining you exactly the way you needed — sloppy, dripping, and his.

The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, brutal and mind-shattering. You cried out, his name ripped from your throat, body convulsing around your fingers as wetness gushed out, soaking the sheets beneath you.

Somewhere through the haze, you heard him groan raggedly — the unmistakable sound of him cumming too, thick ropes splashing across his stomach. You could practically see it — Bangchan flushed, sweaty, wrecked — all for you.

When you finally caught your breath, shame and heat tangled together in your gut. You snatched the phone from the bed, heart pounding.

"You're an asshole," you snapped, your voice still shaky and fucked-out. "Don't ever—" you gasped for air, "don't ever fucking call me again."

And then you hung up on him — before you could do something even stupider — like beg him to come over.

The next day was a full-blown disaster — because all you could think about was him. Not your to-do list. Not your deadlines. Not the fact that you were supposed to be a responsible adult with goals and ambitions. No.

 Just Bangchan — and the memory of last night, which was exactly what you didn’t need right now.

You had promised yourself you’d be serious this time. Work. Study. Prioritize yourself. Not get dragged back into Bangchan's orbit like some hopeless idiot with no self-preservation instincts.

What happened last night was a slip-up. A pathetically delicious, toe-curling, dignity-shattering slip-up.

Still, you got dressed like it was just another Tuesday. Skirt. Heels. Lip gloss. Maybe you spent a little more time in front of the mirror. Maybe your skirt was a little shorter. Maybe you were absolutely ridiculous. 

Who could blame you? Inspiration was a bitch.

Bangchan had always spoiled you rotten. He got off on it, honestly. Clothes, jewelry, shoes, lingerie, makeup, salon appointments — if it sparkled or looked good on you, he bought it.

You never even had to ask. You were his favorite luxury item. All he wanted in return was your heart, served on a silver platter, the way you used to give it to him without thinking twice.

And God, did he love fucking you after a long day. You, dripping in brand-new lace he had picked out himself — letting him ruin you in it.

He was simple like that. Didn't need much. Just you. Always you.

You were his girl. You always have been. And if he had to move heaven, earth, and your stubborn ass to make you admit it again, he would.

The day dragged on, but the routine was good for you. Work, study, grind — all the mindless stuff that keeps your heart on mute. And when it was finally over, when you powered down all your screens and the office emptied out, you just sat there — in the quiet, in the dark — pretending you weren't still thinking about him.

After wrapping up, you powered down your equipment and stretched, only to realize you weren’t as alone as you thought. Mingi was still there, jacket slung casually over his arm like some corporate heartthrob out of a drama.

“Hey, you heading out?” he asked, falling into step toward you.

“Yeah. I think I’ve hit my limit for today.” You smiled, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Mind if I walk with you?” Mingi asked, giving you a lopsided half-smile that, unfortunately, was very effective.

You couldn’t exactly say no. Not to Mingi — handsome, polite, alarmingly smart Mingi — who had always been a quiet sort of presence on the team. You worked well together, but you’d never really crossed into friend territory.

Which made this... surprising.

You ended up walking together toward the elevators, his stride easy next to yours.

“There’s a happy hour tomorrow,” he said, pushing up his glasses, brown hair falling slightly into his eyes. “Are you going?”

You hesitated. Exams were coming up. You really should prioritize studying over cheap drinks and questionable decisions. But also? You desperately needed to hit the mental reset button before you spiraled.

"Sure," you said, surprising yourself. "I’ll be there."

The cold slapped you the second you hit the building’s exit. You cursed under your breath for skipping the coat this morning — your legs bare and goosebumped, the cold air feeling a little too personal against your skin.

Going back home to grab a jacket and then heading straight to college? Yeah, that was going to be hell.

You bit your lip, stuck in a ridiculous debate with yourself over what to do next. That's when your phone buzzed.

Bangchan: Who the fuck was that?

You frowned, confused and immediately suspicious.

You: First of all, what the fuck are you talking about? Second, who said you could text me?

A pause. Then two rapid-fire replies:

Bangchan: So mouthy. Missed that.

Bangchan: The guy you left with. Don’t play dumb, angel.

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. He was insufferable.

You: Newsflash: not your business anymore.

A beat.

Bangchan: Cute. You almost sound like you believe that.

You swore under your breath, fingers flying over the screen.

You: I don't have time for your little tantrums.

Bangchan: Tantrum?

Bangchan: You looked real cozy with him. Thought maybe you needed a reminder.

Your stomach twisted, infuriatingly, traitorously.

You: Reminder of what? That you're insane? Pass.

Bangchan: Reminder of who makes you cum so hard you forget your own name.

You squeezed your phone like it personally offended you. God, he was infuriating.

You: Go fuck yourself.

Bangchan: Would rather fuck you, babe. You free?

You groaned, stuffing your phone into your bag like that could muffle your rising pulse. You told yourself you were done. Totally, absolutely done with him.

And yet... as you walked down the main avenue, your eyes scanned the crowd, the streetlights, the parked cars — searching for him.

You pretended the night air didn’t feel like knives against your bare skin. You pretended your phone hadn’t gone silent. You pretended you weren't half-hoping it would buzz again.

And then — because the universe hated you personally — a black sports car prowled up to the curb beside you, slow and steady.

You didn’t even have to look. 

You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly saw your brain. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

The window whirred down and there he was, grinning like the devil himself. “Get in the car," he said, casual, like he hadn’t been stalking you from the shadows two minutes ago.

“No.” You kept walking, clutching your skirt before the wind could flash half the city.

Horns started screaming behind him. Someone yelled something. Bangchan didn’t so much as flinch.

"Get in the fucking car," he repeated, inching along beside you. "You're gonna turn into a popsicle."

You whipped around, teeth chattering. "I would rather die of hypothermia than get in your stupid fucking car."

Another volley of honking. A guy behind him leaned out the window and made an obscene gesture that probably wasn’t in any official driving manual.

"You’re blocking traffic, you maniac!" you hissed, arms folded tight over yourself.

Bangchan just shrugged, infuriatingly unbothered. "Not my problem. My problem’s standing out here being stubborn and freezing."

He leaned in, smirking slowly and mercilessly. "I'll leave... if you get in."

You glared at him so hard your vision blurred, and for one perfect, freezing second, you honestly believed you might resist.

Then another gust of wind hit, cutting straight through your willpower. You muttered something that could generously be called a curse, yanked open the door, and threw yourself into the passenger seat.

"Happy?" you snapped, slamming it shut.

Bangchan just smiled. Slow, victorious and pulled back into traffic like he hadn’t just held half the city hostage for you.

"Ecstatic," he said.

The second you slammed the door, Bangchan hit the gas like he was escaping a crime scene. He kept his eyes locked on the road, which was impressive, considering your skirt had ridden halfway up your thighs — one of his favorite skirts, by the way.

He’d definitely fucked you in it. Several times.

“You’re so stupid,” you muttered, arms crossed like a bratty little princess.

Bangchan just laughed — that low, rough laugh that made your pulse misbehave — because of course he loved you like this. He loved all the versions of you.

“‘Thank you, Bangchan. If it weren’t for you, I’d freeze my ass off,’” he teased, pitching his voice higher in a brutal imitation of you. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” you snapped.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, veins flexing under golden skin, and you hated yourself a little for noticing.

Self-control, girl. Pull it together.

“You don’t have to owe me, princess," he said, voice casual but his knuckles whitening on the wheel. "You just have to get in the fucking car when I tell you."

You glared at him, arms still folded like a shield across your chest.

A beat. Then he said, way too casually: “That guy. Gonna tell me who he was?”

You let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh and whipped your head toward him. “Seriously? Who the hell do you think you are, Bangchan?”

He said nothing, just drove — jaw locked tight, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in that way he always did when he was about two seconds from losing it.

Good. Let him simmer.

“You don’t get to stalk me and interrogate me like some jealous ex-boyfriend,” you snapped. “You don’t even get to ask.”

Still silent. Still fuming. Still looking better than any man had a right to look while being told off.

You shifted in your seat, the silence between you thick and hot and dangerous, and for a wild second you wondered what it would take for him to pull the car over and remind you exactly how much he hated — and loved — being told no.

"I should fuck that bratty little mouth of yours, I swear to God," Bangchan muttered under his breath, but you caught every sinful syllable.

You forced yourself to roll your eyes, pretending that your thighs weren't already pressing together at the sound of his voice. Pretending that your pulse wasn’t hammering in your ears.

"You should fuck off to that precious studio of yours and stay there," you shot back sweetly, voice dripping with sarcasm. You flashed him a sugary, fake smile, the kind you knew drove him insane.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. "Or," he growled, "I could just drag you into my studio and fuck you against the soundboard. Shut you up properly. What do you think, princess?"

You let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "You're such a fucking idiot. Why am I even here? Stop the car."

Bangchan just laughed, that low, cocky rumble that sent unwelcome heat curling through your stomach. "I'm not stopping the damn car. Stop being a little pain in my ass and let me drive you to college, alright?"

You hated him. You hated him because he was still the only person who could talk to you like that and somehow make you want him even more. He kept his eyes locked on the road, cool as ever, while you stewed in your own frustration and something else much, much filthier.

When he finally pulled up in front of your college, you immediately reached for the door handle, desperate to escape. But click—he locked the doors.

You snapped your head toward him, glaring. "What now?"

"Don't you think we need to talk?" he asked, arching a smug eyebrow like he already knew you weren't going anywhere.

Your heart thudded against your ribs. You knew what he meant. He was talking about the night before—the filthy moans, the breathy whimpers, the way you'd fallen apart just from his voice. But you weren’t about to hand him that satisfaction.

"We have nothing to talk about. Now unlock the damn door."

Bangchan chuckled darkly, humorless. "Don't play dumb, angel. You think I forgot the way you said my name last night? Fuck, you practically begged for me."

Your face burned so hot you wanted to scream. You slapped your hands over your cheeks like that could erase the memory—or the way your body still reacted to him like a live wire.

"For fuck's sake, stop," you groaned, wanting to disappear into the seat.

He tilted his head back against the headrest, grinning like the devil himself. "Why? You love it."

You sucked in a shaky breath, slumping in the seat like you could somehow sink through it and escape him. He was impossible. Irrefutable. Catastrophic.

"Chan," you began, voice strained, "what happened yesterday was a mistake. I—I got carried away, and it’s not happening again. We’re over. You need to get that through your thick skull."

He turned toward you fully now, his playful smirk fading into something far more dangerous. His dark eyes raked over you, making your skin tingle.

"Funny you say that," he murmured, voice low and almost cruel, "when your body’s telling a whole different story."

You froze. Only then did you notice—your chest heaving, the frantic way you were breathing, the way you were basically squirming in your seat. Like a junkie itching for a fix.

His fix.

You ripped your gaze away, humiliated, scrambling for the door handle again. "Just—just let’s forget it. Please. I have to go."

Bangchan stared at you for a long moment, jaw tense, but in the end, he relented. He reached into the backseat, grabbed his jacket—his jacket that still smelled like him, still clung to him—and tossed it into your lap.

"Take it," he muttered gruffly.

You didn't argue. You couldn't. You just grabbed it, clutching the worn fabric between your fingers like a lifeline. You didn't even look back as you shoved the door open and slipped out of the car.

Bangchan didn't say another word either. He just watched you walk away, jaw clenched, hands tight on the steering wheel.

And you could feel it—the burn of his gaze drilling into your back the whole way inside.

You were so exhausted after the endless grind of the week that the idea of happy hour with your coworkers felt like salvation. 

As soon as the clock hit the end of the workday, you, Mingi, and the rest of the creative team slipped out and made your way to a cozy bar not far from the office—a place famous for cold drinks and some of the best barbecue you’d ever tasted.

It was another one of those freezy nights, the kind that wrapped around your skin like a second, unwanted layer. You grabbed your own jacket on the way out—your jacket, not the black one that still hung in your apartment entryway, quietly mocking you with Bangchan’s lingering scent every time you walked past it.

Everyone at work adored you, and you knew it. Women, men, it didn’t matter—everyone said the same thing: you were the prettiest damn girl the office had ever hired. Some of them said it shyly, others more bluntly, but either way, you never let it go to your head. You were too busy being genuinely grateful to them for welcoming you so warmly, especially your boss.

Mingi refilled his glass with another shot of soju, raising it in your direction. You clinked glasses with him and everyone else, laughing as the room buzzed with conversation and the cozy clatter of plates and glasses.

The food was incredible—juicy, smoky barbecue, spicy side dishes, sizzling meat still crackling on hot plates—and the conversation even better. You all talked about work, about who was secretly seeing who, about how much alcohol was "too much," and laughed yourselves stupid.

Soyeon, one of your colleagues, kept throwing not-so-subtle glances between you and Mingi across the table, hiding her giggles behind her hand. It was ridiculous—and a little hilarious. Apparently, the office fantasy was that if you dated someone like Mingi, it would somehow restore everyone's faith in love.

But Mingi was just a friend. A nice guy. Respectful. Safe. The kind of guy who smiled warmly at you and never, ever crossed any lines.

One shot led to another. Then another. And before you realized it, your vision blurred, the world spinning slightly every time you tried to focus. Everything around you—the colors, the lights, the sounds—smeared together into something loud and soft and dizzying, like a dream.

You saw a couple of your coworkers nearly face-planting into the table, and Mingi's blurry figure pacing nearby with a phone pressed to his ear.

"Are you okay? Can you stand?" Mingi’s voice filtered into your ears, strained with concern.

You blinked up at him, then giggled. "Of coooourse I can stand. Oops. Maybe?" you slurred, flopping back down against the table with a dramatic huff and knocking over two empty bottles with your arm.

Everything was so comfortable. You could have curled up there and fallen asleep if it weren’t for the loud thudding of boots approaching.

Footsteps. Voices.

You opened one eye sluggishly, just in time to see two dark figures approaching the table.

"Thanks," Some voice said distantly.

And then—suddenly—you were lifted off the ground like you weighed nothing at all. Strong arms cradled you against a warm, broad chest, and you blinked through your hazy vision to see familiar lips, a strong nose, and messy black hair peeking out from beneath a hood.

"Hey! What—what are you—" You shrieked, squirming uselessly in his hold. "Are you insane?"

"You love making a fucking scene, don’t you, princess?" Bangchan growled low against your hair. "Keep your voice down. I'm taking you home."

"I don't want to go home! I was having fuuuun and—and—" you sniffled, your voice wobbling embarrassingly. The bar, the lights, the laughter were all fading away as Bangchan marched toward the car, his pace determined and irritated.

"You’ve had enough fun for tonight," he muttered under his breath, as if speaking to a disobedient child.

The second he set you down inside the car, everything changed. The world turned softer, warmer. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he buckled your seatbelt, his fingers brushing your coat as he secured you in place.

You inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of something sweet and familiar—vanilla, musk, leather. Him. You sighed, feeling your body sink deeper into the seat.

"Why do you smell so good?" you mumbled, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as you crossed your arms stubbornly.

Bangchan just shook his head and laughed—a deep, throaty sound that filled the car. "You're adorable, you know that?"

And you were too drunk, too soft, too wrapped up in him to say anything back.

"That would be comical if you were sober," Bangchan muttered under his breath, slamming the passenger door shut before rounding the car and sliding into the driver's seat.

"Hey!" you protested weakly as he buckled in, his fingers brushing against his hoodie. "I didn't even drink that much."

Bangchan huffed a dry laugh. "Angel, you can’t even stand up straight. You’re like a drunk bambi on ice."

You groaned, slumping back against the seat. Ugh. As much as you wanted to argue, he wasn’t wrong. And it annoyed you even more that he was right. You tugged at the seatbelt uncomfortably and with a huff, pressed the button to roll the window down. The cold night air immediately hit your face, shocking your skin and making you shiver, but you welcomed it. Anything to clear your head.

The car smelled like him. Leather and something a little sweet—something infuriatingly comforting. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the sharp, bracing wind instead of the fact that Bangchan was sitting just inches away, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel impatiently.

It stung, the kind of sting that settled in your bones, to think about how close you'd once been under different circumstances.

You met Bangchan years ago, back when the air between you still crackled with teasing and unsaid things. It took time — time and reckless choices — before you both stopped pretending it was harmless.

He was always brutally honest, almost cruel in how easily he wore the truth. You’d known it was him, long before you had the courage to admit it. And he had never cared about messy pasts or whether he was your first anything; he only cared that you were his last.

He met you through Jisung — who, true to form, stuck to your side like a second shadow — and it hit him like a punch to the ribs. That kind of sick, dizzy want that didn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to drown it.

Bangchan had been patient in the way only a man desperate for something real could be. Every party, every careless night out, he made sure he was there — close enough to touch, close enough to drive you crazy with it. Until you finally gave in and kissed him like he was air and you were drowning.

And he didn’t say it out loud — he wasn’t that kind of man — but he knew he’d won the fucking lottery. You weren't just beautiful; you were built from the same sharp, stubborn material he was.

You knew how to love him in a way that didn’t shrink him or tame him.And he loved showing you off — not because he needed to prove anything, but because he could.

Wherever you went — parties, concerts, rooms full of people who wished they were you — heads turned. You didn’t just look good together. You fit. Like some cruelly perfect puzzle, made to make everyone else feel like they were missing something.

You were the ‘it couple’ — not because people said so, but because no one could look at you and believe otherwise.

And now you had to pretend  like it was easy that none of it had ever meant anything. That you hadn’t once been stupid enough to build your whole heart around him.

The ride was quiet for a few moments, except for the hum of the engine and the occasional shuffle of your jacket as you shifted. Your head lolled slightly to the side, and even in your blurred state, you caught the way his knuckles tightened around the steering wheel every time he glanced at you.

"You always cause trouble," he said finally, voice low, almost fond. "Even when you don't mean to."

You scoffed. "You're the one kidnapping me from my fun."

"If I left you there, you'd either end up passed out on the floor or flirting with some idiot," he said coolly, not taking his eyes off the road. "Neither option sounded good to me."

"I wasn't flirting," you muttered, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. "I was just... being friendly."

Bangchan snorted. "Yeah, well. You're mine. You don't need to be friendly with anyone else."

The words hit you harder than the cold wind. Your eyes snapped open, your heart giving a traitorous, unsteady beat. He said it so easily. Like it was just a fact of life, as simple as breathing.

You opened your mouth to say something, to argue, but no words came out.

And Bangchan just kept driving, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the dashboard.

When he pulled up outside your apartment, Bangchan didn't even give you a chance to reach for the door handle. He was out in a flash, slamming his door and rounding the car like a man on a mission.

You caught up to him, your boots clacking against the sidewalk in a staggered rhythm. He didn’t even bother to look back; he knew you were following like he always knew, smug bastard that he was.

"You think you're so clever," you muttered as you caught up, breath puffing in the cold air.

"Well," Bangchan said, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets. "That's because I am."

You rolled your eyes so hard you were surprised they didn't fall out of your head. Still, you brushed past him at the entrance, key in hand, making a show of being thoroughly unimpressed.

The door creaked open under your push, and you turned just enough to toss a casual, biting smile over your shoulder. "You coming in, or are you too scared I'll bite?"

Bangchan's mouth twitched, that almost-smile he saved just for you. "If I was scared of your teeth, princess," he said, stepping inside after you, "I wouldn’t be imagining all the places I'd want you to leave marks."

You slammed the door a little too hard behind him, the bang echoing off the hallway walls. Not because you were mad, because if you didn't, you might've launched yourself at him like a woman starved.

"You need therapy," you said, dropping your keys in the dish by the door.

"Probably," he agreed, kicking off his shoes like he owned your place, moving through your apartment with easy familiarity. "But you first."

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall as you watched him with half-lidded eyes. "You’re awfully confident for someone who just manhandled a half-drunk girl out of a bar."

Bangchan grinned, throwing himself down onto your worn-out couch like a king claiming his throne. "I call it rescuing."

"I call it kidnapping."

He shrugged. "Semantics."

You hated—hated—how good he looked sitting there, manspread like he paid the rent, your hoodie bunching around his arms, the glint in his eyes daring you to push him. To challenge him. To keep playing the game you two were never quite able to quit.

"You’re so annoying," you muttered, peeling off your jacket and tossing it somewhere near the coat rack.

"And you're drunk," he said, patting the spot next to him without a hint of shame. "C'mere, princess. Let’s have a little chat."

"I’m fine right here, thanks."

Bangchan tilted his head, studying you with the kind of intensity that made you want to squirm. "You sure? ‘Cause you look like you’re one good glare away from either ripping my head off or climbing into my lap."

You scoffed, pretending not to trip over your own feet as you crossed the room and dropped into the armchair instead, curling your legs up under you.

"Dream on, studio rat," you said sweetly.

He smiled slowly, eyes dark and lazy and a little dangerous. "You call me names like that, and then wonder why I wanna ruin that mouth of yours."

The worst part? You did wonder. You wondered all the time.

You tucked your chin onto your knees, flashing him a slow, mocking smile. "Big words, Bangchan. Too bad that's all you're good at. Talking."

The spark that lit behind his gaze was damn near nuclear.

He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, voice dropping so low and smooth it wrapped around you like silk.

"Careful," he said, voice edged with warning and wickedness. "You poke the wolf enough, princess, don't be surprised when he bites back."

Your heart was beating so fast it was almost dizzying. And you knew—you knew—you should tell him to leave. Should tell him you needed to sleep it off. Should slam a thousand doors between the two of you before you made a mistake you couldn't take back.

Instead, you grinned like the little devil you were.

You batted your lashes like a brat, voice dripping sugar and spite. "What are you waiting for then? Afraid you’ll get bitten too?"

Bangchan let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were real.

"One of these days," he said, standing up slow, every muscle under his hoodie stretching and pulling in ways that made you bite your lip, "you're gonna push me too far."

You kept your smile in place, but your mouth was suddenly dry. "Promises, promises."

He came to stand over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. He leaned down, palms braced on the arms of the chair, caging you in without touching. Without meaning to, the chain around his neck slipped loose from his sweatshirt, dangling just above your eyes like a silent dare.

"You have no idea," he whispered, his breath ghosting across your lips, "what you're asking for."

Your heart pounded so loud you were sure he could hear it. Still, you refused to look away. You refused to be the first one to break.

Bangchan’s mouth curled into something feral, something proud, like he could see every stubborn, reckless thought in your head and loved you more for it.

He brushed his nose against yours, just barely, before pulling away.

"Go to sleep, princess," he murmured, backing off like it cost him something. "Before we both do something we'll regret."

You watched him move across the room, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and tossing it onto you in one smooth motion.

"Goodnight," he said, turning toward the door.

"Goodnight, asshole," you mumbled back, snuggling into the chair despite yourself.

Your head was pounding before you even opened your eyes.

The sunlight filtering through the blinds felt like a personal attack, and the taste in your mouth was proof that maybe you weren't as immune to soju as you thought.

You groaned softly, pressing the heel of your palm against your forehead, cursing every life choice that had led you to this very moment. 

Everything hurts. Your brain, your pride, your soul.

You didn’t even remember getting into bed. The last thing you recalled was sitting in the armchair in the living room, long after Chan had left. You turned your head carefully, expecting to find an empty room, expecting to be alone—like you always were after nights like that.

Instead, you found him. Curled up like a fucking angel in your beat-up armchair.

One arm slung lazily over his stomach, the other bent so his hand could half-cover his face, messy black curls spilling out from under the hood of his sweatshirt. His legs were awkwardly folded up to fit, his whole body making a kind of soft, exhausted nest in the chair way too small for him.

And God, he was beautiful. Ridiculously, stupidly beautiful.

Your throat tightened without permission. Because somehow, it hurt a little, seeing him like that. Vulnerable. Still. Peaceful, like he'd finally stopped fighting the world for five minutes.

You sat there blinking at him, trying to convince yourself it was just the hangover making you emotional. Definitely the hangover. Had to be.

Slowly, you shifted to sit up, careful not to make any noise. But even that tiny movement made Bangchan stir, his body tensing instinctively before relaxing again.

You watched as he buried deeper into the chair, pulling the hood lower over his eyes like a child hiding from the morning.

It was absurd. He looked like a stray puppy you accidentally fed once and now couldn’t get rid of.

And the worst part? You didn't even want to get rid of him.

You loved so many things about him — stupid, quiet things. The way he smiled, all crinkled eyes and wrinkled nose, like he couldn't help himself. The way his face looked when he just woke up, soft and defenseless, so beautiful you couldn’t resist tracing his skin with your fingertips, half-convinced he might dissolve like a dream.

You loved his curls too — how, beneath all that cocky, rough-edged swagger, he still looked like a boy you could never quite stop loving. 

You sat there for a few minutes, silent, just...watching. Taking in the ridiculous boy who drove you insane but still made sure you were safe. The guy who would argue with you all night but leave you his coat when he left. The boy who threatened to bite and ruin and wreck, but slept like a kid in your living room without asking for anything in return.

Your chest aches in that stupid, traitorous way you hated.

"Idiot," you whispered, your voice breaking the silence.

Bangchan didn’t stir.

You dragged yourself up off the bed, every muscle in your body protesting, and grabbed a blanket. With more gentleness than you’d ever admit to, you tucked it over him, careful not to wake him.

For a second, your fingers hovered over his hair, aching to brush the curls back from his forehead.

You didn’t.

Instead, you backed away, wrapping your arms around yourself, needing the distance before you did something even stupider. You padded into the kitchen and turned on the kettle, moving slowly, quietly.

Because you could be a lot of things. You could be stubborn and sharp and bratty as hell. But you weren't heartless. Not with him.

Not when he looked like that.

You were halfway through pouring hot water into a chipped mug when you heard the shift of fabric and the low, scratchy groan of someone waking up.

You didn’t turn around. You weren’t ready to see him awake yet.

Not when you were still trying to glue your heart back together after catching him sleeping like some exhausted little god on your chair.

Instead, you muttered, “Morning, sunshine,” as you dumped two sugars into your cup.

Bangchan’s voice was still thick with sleep when he answered. "You're alive, huh?"

He sounded way too pleased about that fact. You shrugged, sipping your tea. "Barely. And only because I’m too stubborn to die of embarrassment."

He chuckled behind you, the sound low and rough, and you cursed how good it sounded.

"You should be embarrassed," he said, stretching his arms above his head, making the chair creak. "You were one soju away from getting banned from half the bars downtown."

"Bold words for someone who kidnaps girls from happy hours," you shot back, finally turning around to look at him.

Big mistake.

His hoodie was bunched up around his waist, revealing a sliver of tan skin and the waistband of his sweats. His hair was a glorious mess, dark curls flattened on one side, and he had the nerve—the nerve—to blink at you like he wasn't aware he was slowly killing you just by existing.

You yanked your gaze away. "I need a shower. I feel like death."

"Yeah, you look like it too," he teased under his breath.

You flipped him off lazily as you padded toward the bathroom.

Inside, the hot water was bliss. You stood under the spray for long minutes, letting it wash away your headache, your regret, your dangerously soft feelings. Or trying to.

When you finished, you wrapped yourself in a towel and wandered back into your room, dripping wet, not even thinking.

That's when you saw him again. Through the mirror.

Bangchan was standing just outside the doorway, frozen halfway into a movement, like he hadn't meant to be caught. His eyes caught yours in the mirror’s reflection—and then flickered lower, to your bare shoulders, the curve of your back, the towel barely clinging to your hips, and your wet hair dripping water down your spine.

For a second, neither of you breathed.

He clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides, as if he could physically force himself to behave.

You smirked at his reflection, wickedly pleased at the way he was practically vibrating from the effort of not touching you. You snickered and sauntered toward your closet without another word, feeling his gaze burn into your skin the whole way.

By the time you made it back to the kitchen, fully dressed and mostly composed, the smell of something burning hit you in the face.

"Chan," you said, deadpan. "What fresh hell is this?"

He looked up from the stove, sheepish. A frying pan in one hand, a horribly mangled attempt at eggs in the other.

"I was trying to make you breakfast," he said, voice half-defensive, half-hopeful. "Y'know, so you don't die from alcohol poisoning."

You folded your arms and tilted your head. "You can't cook for shit, can you?"

He tossed the spatula into the sink with a clatter and scowled at you, but there was no real heat behind it.

"You're welcome, princess."

You plopped into a chair, grinning like a little devil. "Aw, you really do love me."

Bangchan grumbled something incoherent under his breath, ears turning slightly pink as he banged around the kitchen trying to salvage whatever dignity he had left.

You bit your lip to hide your smile. Because he could fight it all he wanted. You both knew exactly where this road was heading.

You were still towel-drying your hair when Bangchan’s phone buzzed across the counter.

He checked it absently at first — one glance — but then his entire posture changed. He straightened up, jaw clenching, and answered it with a tight, low, "Yeah?"

You hated the way your chest dropped before you even knew why.

From the kitchen, you heard bits and pieces. Another producer. Some “quick fixes” needed. A session that apparently couldn’t survive the weekend without him.

When he hung up, the room went heavy. He didn’t meet your eyes. He just shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, shoulders stiff with guilt.

You sat down with your mug of burnt coffee, the faint smell of your vanilla soap clinging to your skin. You looked... soft. Kissable. And for a wild second, Bangchan thought about crossing the room just to taste you — hair damp, cheeks flushed from the hot shower — to press his mouth to yours and make you forget the rest of the damn world.

But the words came out instead. "I gotta head to the studio," he said, voice almost apologetic.

You took a slow sip of coffee, then set it down harder than necessary, the sharp clack making both of you flinch.

"You’re seriously going to the studio?" you asked, too casual, too light to be anything but fake.

Bangchan finally looked at you. His eyes were heavy, tired. Maybe even sorry.

"Yeah," he said, like he hated himself a little for it. "Deadlines."

You hummed — a sharp, disbelieving sound — and tapped your nails against the mug.

"It's Saturday," you said quietly.

"And?" he shot back, more defensive than necessary.

You stared at him, really started, like you were trying to scrape something real out of him with your eyes alone. "And nothing," you muttered, voice tight.

He sighed, confused and already losing patience. "What? You want me to blow it off or something?"

You laughed, sharp and humorless. "Oh, no. God forbid you miss a day at your precious studio."

Bangchan blinked at you, and you saw it happen — the slow realization that this wasn’t about today, or even about the stupid phone call.

It was about every time before it. Every late night. Every broken promise. Every time you sat exactly where you were now, waiting for someone who never really came home.

"You’re mad," he said slowly, stupidly, like he was still putting it together.

"No. I’m not." you snapped, standing so quickly your chair screeched against the floor. "Maybe it’s a hangover. Or maybe I’m just allergic to the same fucking story."

His jaw tightened. "What story?"

You crossed your arms across your chest, feeling dangerously close to either screaming or crying.

"You," you spat. "You and your work and your excuses. The plans you cancel, the calls you forget to return. The way you make everything — everyone — secondary to your next big project."

Bangchan flinched, and for once, he didn’t try to spin it. He didn’t even deny it. He just stood there, breathing shallowly, like he was bleeding out and didn’t know how to stop it.

"That was different," he finally managed, voice rough. "That was when—"

"When we were together?" you cut in, voice low and sharp as a blade. You watched him wince like you’d hit him. 

Good. He deserved it.

"It’s easier to forget about someone when they’re still stupid enough to love you, isn’t it?"

He opened his mouth — maybe to apologize, maybe to plead — but you shook your head, feeling the final snap of something deep inside you.

"You should go," you said, barely above a whisper. "Wouldn’t want you to be late for your real life."

Bangchan looked at you for a long, breathless second. There was so much there — regret, anger, longing — but none of it mattered anymore.

He grabbed his keys off the counter without a word. You turned your back to him, rinsing your empty mug in the sink even though your hands were shaking.

You heard the door creak open.

He hesitated. Waited. You didn’t look. You didn’t move. You didn’t stop him.

Except—"Bangchan," you called sharply, almost involuntarily.

He froze, half-out the door.

When he turned back, there was a flash of hope in his eyes, quick and raw.

You crushed it without mercy.

You threw his jacket at him, hard enough that it hit his chest with a dull slap. He caught it reflexively, stunned.

"There," you said, your voice brittle and shaking. "Go save the charts or whatever."

Bangchan’s face darkened. His jaw flexed hard enough to crack. But he didn’t say anything.

Didn’t beg. Didn’t stay.

He just yanked the jacket on stiffly, avoiding your gaze, and left, the door clicking shut with a finality that made your stomach twist.

You stood there long after he was gone, feeling hollow and breakable and so, so stupid for still loving the sound of his stupid footsteps fading away.

You had sworn you’d stay in this weekend — locked away with bad TV and worse wine — but then Jisung, being Jisung, practically collapsed at your feet, begging you to come to a party some friend of his was throwing.

Apparently, the guy was rich, bored, and had a habit of throwing the kind of parties that made people lose entire weekends without noticing.

On one hand, it sounded like the perfect distraction. On the other, it meant risking running into the headache you were currently trying to scrub out of your system: Bangchan.

After the last fight, he'd gone radio silent. No texts. No late-night calls. No nothing. And, really, that was for the best.

If he wasn't reaching for you, it made it easier not to reach back.

You chose violence anyway — or at least the fashion equivalent — sliding into a rose-gold slip dress so decadent it felt illegal. Fendi and Versace had stitched the thing like they wanted you arrested. Paired with heels sharp enough to commit crimes and a final swipe of lipstick, you were ready to forget him, even if it was only for a few hours.

Jisung pulled up, grinning like he'd just pulled off the heist of the century. Almost on time. Almost.

The second you stepped out in front of the mansion — all cold marble and warm bodies packed inside — Jisung shifted nervously beside you.

"I should probably tell you something," he said, his voice too light, too innocent.

You gave him a flat look, elbowing him hard enough to make him grunt. "Spit it out, Han."

He winced, hands raised in surrender. "Bangchan... might be here. Maybe. Possibly. Almost definitely."

You stared at him for a beat, then shrugged, hooking your arm through his.

"Relax, Ji. I came here for you," you said, flashing a grin that maybe even you didn’t fully believe. "I’m going to have fun. With or without him."

Jisung exhaled like he'd just narrowly avoided death by your hand. And maybe he had.

The interior of the house was obscene in the best way: sleek, brutalist luxury. An infinity pool glittered beyond the glass walls, champagne flowed like water, and waiters glided around balancing trays stacked with cocktails too pretty to drink.

A guy passed by offering glasses of something pale pink with tiny flowers floating inside. You plucked two without hesitation. "Fancy," you muttered, raising a brow at Jisung, who just laughed and stole one from your hand.

The party belonged to some entertainment mogul — the kind of man who collected artists the way other people collected cars — and, apparently, he was old friends with Jisung, Changbin, and your ex.

Music production royalty. Big names. Bigger egos.

Wading into the crowd was like slipping into warm water: bodies pressed together, laughter sticky in the air. You felt it immediately — the stares. The second skin your dress had become. It clung in all the right places, caught the light like it was made to worship you.

You moved through the room like a knife through silk, cruelly aware of the way heads turned, conversations stuttered.

The music was loud, a beat that pulsed in your bones. You danced with Jisung, spinning, laughing too loudly. Letting the thrum of the night drown out the creeping awareness settling at the back of your neck.

Of course he was here. And of course you saw him.

You didn’t even have to look hard; his presence was magnetic — or maybe it was just the fact that you could feel his stare burning into your skin.

Leaning against the table like he had every right to be the center of the universe. Black long-sleeve shirt clinging to the brutal cut of his muscles, like sin wrapped in cotton. Chains glinting at his throat, sliding obscenely down the line of his leather pants.

It should have been illegal to look that good in anything. It should have been illegal to look at you the way he was looking at you.

And when your paths crossed — when you drifted closer on the tide of the crowd — his gaze sharpened, darkened, locked onto you with a slow-burning intensity that made your spine straighten involuntarily.

It took every ounce of your willpower not to react. Because you knew that look. You knew what it meant when Bangchan looked at you like that.

And it wasn’t fair.

Not when you knew damn well that dress — that very dress — had once been a gift from him. A whispered promise wrapped in silk. A secret only the two of you shared, stitched invisibly into every thread.

You could feel him watching you — his stare carving a path along your skin — but you refused to meet his eyes.

Instead, you let your gaze skim over every other face in the circle. Everyone but him.

“Ji," you purred, tipping your head toward him, "aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” The sweetness in your voice was pure venom, and you knew it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Bangchan's hand tightening around his glass. So tight the blood drained from his knuckles.

Changbin you already knew — he greeted you with a familiar grin — but the others were new: “Wooyoung, Yeonjun, Hongjoong,” Jisung rattled off, and each offered you a hand and a polite smile.

Musicians, all of them. Some of their biggest tracks? Produced by 3RACHA. Produced by him. Not that you spared him so much as a glance.

Bangchan stood there, rigid and simmering, a silent storm cloud just beyond the conversation. Acknowledging you only in the sharp way his jaw flexed. The faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

You could almost hear the accusations unsaid: How dare you wear that dress. How dare you parade yourself around like that. How dare you pretend he wasn't standing right there — burning for you.

You tilted your glass back and drained the last of your drink with a careless shrug.

“I’m grabbing another,” you announced, lifting the empty glass between two fingers like it was something disposable. “Ji, want one?”

Jisung shook his head, distracted by something someone said.

You turned on your heel without waiting for an answer, feeling the hem of your dress flutter like a taunt around your thighs. You knew the way the fabric shifted when you moved. You knew exactly what you looked like walking away.

And you knew exactly who was watching you — fists clenched, jaw locked, fighting the losing battle not to follow.

You ordered a Sex on the Beach and leaned casually against the bar, tapping your manicured nails against the counter. The party roared around you — glittering, chaotic — and you welcomed the momentary lull.

That was when someone appeared. Leaning against the glass with the lazy confidence of a man who thought he had a shot.

"You here alone?" he asked, eyes skating over you without a shred of subtlety.

You tilted your head, lashes brushing your cheekbone in a mockery of innocence. "Why?”

"Would be a crime if you were." He smiled — all teeth and ego — and even had the audacity to bite his bottom lip.

You almost laughed.

He was textbook: handsome in that obvious, forgettable way. The kind of man who thought every pretty girl at a bar was just waiting for him.

The bartender slid your drink over. You took a slow sip before answering, savoring the citrusy burn. "Oh, yeah?"

"I could make your night a hell of a lot better," he said, stepping closer, his voice low. "If you come dance with me."

You barely smothered a smirk. Empty promises rolled so easily off their tongues, didn’t they?

"Then show me," you said, voice syrupy sweet, slipping your hand into his outstretched one.

He led you toward the dance floor, weaving through bodies under the pulse of strobe lights and pounding bass. The air thickened with sweat, perfume, and something wilder.

In the crush of the crowd, he planted a heavy hand on your shoulder, sliding it boldly — too boldly — down your spine to your waist. Guiding you into the rhythm like he owned you.

You let him. For a moment.

The music throbbed through you, rattling your bones. You moved your hips, eyelids fluttering shut, letting yourself drown in the beat — in the slippery feeling of rebellion and defiance.

Behind you, he pressed closer. His hands skimmed down the backs of your thighs, fingers hooking under the hem of your tiny dress, tugging it higher without shame.

Your jaw tightened.

You caught the stranger’s wrists mid-climb, dragging his hands back to rest just above your waist — a silent warning. You didn’t know what game he thought he was playing, but you weren’t about to be the pawn.

Another song bled into the air — a pounding, bass-heavy beat — and you let yourself sway lazily against him, pretending you didn’t feel the way he tried, and failed, to take control. 

It was cute, really. Men always thought they were the hunters.

After a few more minutes of indulging his wandering hands, you turned around, flashing a sugar-sweet smile that didn’t even reach your eyes.

"I really need to go to the bathroom," you purred, lips grazing the shell of his ear.

He grinned, clueless. "It’s okay, babe. I’ll be right here."

You gave him one last pitying look — poor thing — and slipped into the crowd, knowing damn well he’d never see you again if the universe had any mercy.

Bodies pressed around you, glittering, sweating, shouting. You ducked and weaved, humming under your breath to the song vibrating through the walls — Guess by Charli XCX — your hips still carrying the ghost of the dance.

The mansion was a maze of glass staircases and too many doors. People were tucked into dark corners, mouths on mouths, hands lost in hair, slipping into rooms to do things better left unspoken.

Finally, you spotted salvation — a guy stumbling out of a door, belt half-buckled. Bathroom.

You moved fast, fingers curling around the handle — only for a much larger hand to slam the door wide open, forcing you back inside with a jolt.

You barely spun on your heels before a wall of heat and muscle cornered you, the door clicking shut with a deliberate, dangerous finality.

His chest rose and fell like he’d sprinted through hell to get to you. His jaw was locked tight enough to crack, and those dark eyes…

You knew that look. You knew it too well.

Anger. Lust. Hunger.

The kind that never asked permission. The kind that didn’t need to.

He took a step forward — and the bathroom shrank into something much too small for the two of you.

"You think you're fucking funny, huh?" His tongue poked his cheek, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach gave a traitorous flip. "Not in the mood for your little games tonight."

"Don't fuck with me, princess." His voice dropped, low, gravelly — as he crowded you against the marble sink. 

You had to lean back, your ass brushing the cold counter, because there was nowhere else to go.

"I didn't do anything," you shot back, biting the inside of your cheek to hold your nerve. "You're imagining shit."

He let out a humorless laugh, the sound scraping low in his throat. "Yeah? You didn't let that asshole put his hands all over you in my fucking dress just to get under my skin?"

Touché.

Maybe you had. Maybe you wanted him to burn. To suffer the way you had. Maybe you were desperate enough to crave this — the anger, the jealousy, the way it made his whole body vibrate with restraint.

Bangchan shook his head slowly, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"I always knew you were a little fucking attention whore, but this?" His gaze dragged down your body like a physical touch. "Dressed like a wet dream and acting like you're not desperate to be caught."

His mouth ghosted over yours — not a kiss, just a threat of one — and your fingers dug into the cold edge of the sink so hard they ached.

"What part of we're not together anymore you don’t fucking get?" you hissed, hating the way your voice cracked at the edges, giving you away.

Bangchan’s smirk deepened — like he knew exactly how close you were to losing it. Like he was savoring it.

And God help you, if he came even a breath closer, you would do something reckless and ruinous, like drag his mouth down onto yours, like admit that you were still starving for him.

As if he could read every filthy thought running wild through your head, his fingers brushed the hem of your dress, just skimming the bare skin of your thigh. Your breath caught — your whole body betraying you in a single, shivering heartbeat.

You squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, as if that would save you from the avalanche rolling through your veins. One month without him, and his touch still had you crumbling like a fucking amateur.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dark silk as he pressed closer — chest to chest, heat to heat — the hard line of his body trapping you against the marble. His hand slid higher, fingers grazing your inner thigh now, so close it made your hips tilt on instinct. "Fucking glowing." The praise was venomous, devouring.

"You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?" His lips brushed the shell of your ear, almost tender, almost cruel.

"You think I'm gonna let you walk around like that—" his fingers inched up, grazing the thin, soaked scrap of your panties, "—let some other asshole touch what’s fucking mine?"

His hand flexed against you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Your cheeks burned, your body burned — your thighs, your stomach, your ribs — everything thrumming with desperate, unbearable heat.

And worst of all,  you were wet. God, you were soaked for him.

He could probably feel it without even sliding his fingers under.

You hated it. You hated him for knowing it. You hated yourself for wanting him to ruin you all over again.

You wanted him brutal. You wanted him careless. You wanted him to use you until you forgot your own name. But somewhere, buried deep under the throb of your pulse, that thin, pitiful thread of reality was still whispering:

You’re not his anymore.

He kissed you — but it wasn’t a kiss you were ready for. It was brutal, a quick, greedy clash of mouths that stole the breath from your lungs.

By the time you tried to react, he’d already pulled back, staring down at you with eyes so dark they barely looked human.

"I won't do anything you don't want," he said, voice dropping low, a threat wrapped in a promise.

Meanwhile, his hand dragged upward, maddeningly slow, fingertips grazing the inside of your thigh like he had all the time in the goddamn world. He ghosted over the thin barrier of your panties — a brush, a tease, not enough, never enough — and the pressure made your knees weaken.

His fingers barely pressed against you, just enough to make you ache harder, just enough to make you silently beg.

"Tell me to stop," he said, fingers still tormenting the edges of your sanity. "Come on, angel. Open your pretty mouth."

You couldn't. You couldn’t even think straight, not when he was touching you like that, not when your body was trembling with how badly you needed him.

It wasn’t fair — how he could burn through you with nothing but a touch.

He stilled his hand purposely, the absence of movement so punishing it made your stomach drop.

"I need to fucking hear it," he growled, forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged.

Your voice broke on the first attempt, your throat so dry it hurt. Finally, you swallowed hard and forced the word out. “No.”

The second it left your mouth, something snapped in him — like you had given him the keys to every dark, filthy thing he'd been holding back.

His mouth twisted in a smile that wasn’t kind at all — it was wicked, ruined. His pupils were so blown out, he looked possessed.

"Turn around," he ordered, voice sharp enough to cut.

Your body obeyed before your brain could even catch up. You turned to face the mirror, your hands gripping the edge of the marble sink like it was the only thing keeping you standing. The reflection was obscene — your face flushed, your pupils wide, your body vibrating with want.

And behind you — him — towering, overwhelming, the black of his clothes a stark contrast to the mess he was about to make out of you.

He shoved your back down with a firm hand, bending you over until the marble sink disappeared from view and all you could see was the cold, impersonal wall. Your ass lifted automatically, desperate to meet him, and Bangchan let out a sharp breath between his teeth at the sight.

“Fuck, princess.” His voice was rough, shredded with want as he shoved your dress higher, bunching the delicate fabric around your waist.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging hard into your flesh like he could brand you with them. He rubbed a slow, dirty circle over your panties, right where you were soaked for him.

“I missed this pretty little pussy,” he muttered, almost to himself, almost reverent.

You moaned under his touch, your whole body vibrating with the filthy thrill of being manhandled like this — like you were something he owned.

Bangchan smiled against your skin, because it was exactly what he wanted — your surrender, your desperate little sounds.

You gasped when he pressed his body against you, his erection thick and straining against the rough line of his pants. You couldn't help it — you pushed your hips back, chasing the friction, needing more, needing everything.

He bent low against you, lips brushing your ear as he ran two fingers slowly, maddeningly, along your lips. The fabric of your panties clung wetly to your folds, making the sensation almost unbearable.

“Suck them," he ordered, voice low and wrecked. "Make them nice and wet for me."

You let out a shaky breath, the filth of it lighting your nerves on fire. You twisted enough to meet his hand, parting your lips and taking his fingers into your mouth without hesitation. 

The second you did, Bangchan groaned — a raw, broken sound that made your thighs clench.

You wrapped your tongue around his fingers, licking slow and deep, dragging your mouth up and down them like you would if it were his cock. You sucked, sloppily, tasting yourself faintly on your own tongue.

Bangchan watched you with hooded eyes, his breathing heavy, his whole body coiled tight.

"Good girl," he praised, voice dripping with satisfaction. The words hit you harder than they should have, sending a fresh ache between your legs.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth with a slow, wet pop — a thin string of saliva stretching between them — and he smirked, absolutely wrecked by the sight of you.

The sight of you like this — desperate, obedient, filthy — was dangerous. Because all he wanted now was to fuck you so hard you'd forget your own name, until you were nothing but pretty, broken noises under his hands.

"Hold the sink," he commanded, voice low and dangerous. You spread your fingers along the cold marble, bracing yourself, every nerve in your body screaming for him to just touch you already.

Bangchan stepped closer, breathing heavily through his nose.

With a rough tug, he pulled your panties down, exposing you completely — slick, glistening, dripping for him. The second he saw you like that, he swore under his breath, his cock pressing harder against him like it physically hurt to wait.

He dragged two fingers slowly through your folds, gathering the wetness, coating his skin in you. You let out a breathy, involuntary moan, your hips twitching at even that minimal contact.

He watched, obsessed, as your body reacted to him, so easy, so natural — like you were made for this, made for him.

Three fingers circled your clit in a slow, maddening rhythm. You bit down on your lip, trying to muffle the desperate whine building in your throat.

It was useless. You squirmed under his hand, hips jerking against his teasing strokes, shamelessly greedy for more.

Bangchan laughed — low and cruel and possessive. "I'll show you who this greedy little pussy belongs to," he promised darkly.

Without warning, he slid two fingers deep inside you, filling you with a brutal, perfect stretch that tore a hoarse moan from your lips. Your knees buckled, the shock of it nearly sending you collapsing onto the sink.

On instinct, your hand shot up to cover your mouth, but Bangchan was faster.

He yanked his fingers free, leaving you clenching around nothing. Your head snapped up in frustration, but he was already growling in your ear:

"Hands on the fucking sink. Be a good girl and take it."

You barely managed a whimper of compliance. Trembling, aching, you placed both palms flat against the cold marble again, desperate to behave if it meant he'd touch you again.

Satisfied, Bangchan plunged his fingers back inside you — deeper this time, rougher. Your whole body jolted at the sudden invasion, a broken cry ripping from your throat.

He crooked his fingers ruthlessly, zeroing in on that perfect, devastating spot he knew too well.

You sobbed his name, helpless, lost to the overwhelming pleasure. Bangchan leaned closer, his chest flush against your back, murmuring filth against your ear while he fucked his fingers into you like he never planned to stop.

He knew your body better than anyone ever had. And tonight, he was going to make damn sure you remembered exactly who you belonged to.

"Want me to fuck your pretty pussy with my hand?" His voice dripped mockery, even as he thrust shallowly, barely letting you feel the stretch before pulling back again.

You moaned, your body shuddering against the marble. But it wasn’t enough. Not even close.

"Say please," he demanded, slowing his movements to a cruel, torturous crawl.

You gritted your teeth, rage flaring hot inside you. This was a punishment — and you both knew you deserved it.

Still, when he stilled his hand completely, your pride crumbled like sand.

"Fuck. Please." You whimpered, the word breaking out of you, raw and desperate. "Please, please, fuck me."

Bangchan muttered something under his breath — a filthy prayer or a curse, you couldn’t tell — before he slammed his fingers back inside you, hard and deep. You sobbed, the sound guttural, ripped straight from your chest.

He set a brutal pace, fingers pumping in and out of you, making a messy, obscene noise every time he bottomed out inside your dripping heat. 

It was filthy. It was everything you needed.

"More," you gasped, hips chasing every thrust shamelessly. "I need more."

He groaned low, a sound almost pained. "Fuck, princess. You're too greedy."

And then, without warning, he shoved two more fingers alongside the first — stuffing you so full you thought you might snap. Your body seized, a broken scream caught in your throat. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming stretch, the ache, the impossible fullness.

Bangchan didn’t give you a second to adjust. He moved slow at first, deep, devastating strokes that made you feel every inch of his hand inside you. You whined his name, nonsense spilling from your lips, your hips rolling uncontrollably against him, desperate for more.

"Stay the fuck still," he growled, pressing a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, forcing you down against the sink. You whimpered under his weight, blinking away the tears threatening to fall.

He shifted his stance, muscles flexing — and then he started fucking you fast, reckless, fingers slamming into you at a brutal pace that left you gasping, clenching around him, chasing an orgasm that was already boiling over inside you.

Your toes curled against the floor. That fire built and built in your belly, spreading up your spine until you were teetering right at the edge He didn’t let up for a second. Bangchan drove his fingers into you brutally, mercilessly, the slick, wet sounds of your body devouring every thrust filling the bathroom like music.

You were swollen, red, and trembling uncontrollably. Every nerve ending screamed with overstimulation, but the way he pressed you down — completely at his mercy — only made it filthier, made the pleasure spiral harder, darker, sweeter.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice rasping with something feral. "Look at how you take my fingers."

He leaned closer, tongue darting out over his lips, starving for the sight of you wrecked and desperate for him.

"I—I can't anymore—" you choked out, voice cracking in a whimper. "Chan!"

His hand moved faster, the thrusts deeper, knuckles brushing obscene against your insides.

"Are you gonna cum for me, princess?" he taunted, rough and low against your ear. "Show me. Show me who this greedy pussy belongs to. Cum for me."

It was a command you couldn’t disobey.

Like a snapped wire, your orgasm hit you so violently that your whole body jolted forward. Bangchan ripped his fingers free at the exact moment, flattening his hand against your clit and rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the heel of his palm. 

The sensation tore a scream from your throat, your vision whiting out.

He wrapped one thick arm around your waist, holding you upright while you convulsed, grinding his palm against your throbbing clit, prolonging every brutal, ecstatic wave of pleasure. You sobbed against the cold marble sink, tears streaming hot and fast down your cheeks.

"Look at yourself," he snarled, voice thick with pride and hunger. "Look at you when you cum for me. All fucked out. Mine."

His hand moved up, gripping your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to the mirror. What you saw made your knees almost give out: Your face flushed, wet with tears, mouth slack in a helpless moan.

Behind you, Bangchan looked like a fucking monster — wild-eyed, hair a mess, his body pressed possessively against yours.

And when your cum spilled down your thighs in thick, shining streams, soaking his hand, his grin was wolfish.

"That's it," he growled, dragging his wet fingers slowly over your skin, smearing the mess across your trembling thighs. "My girl. So fucking good to me."

You slumped back against his chest, your head dropping onto his broad shoulder, boneless and ruined. Bangchan stroked your waist like you were his prized possession, tracing the outline of your body with greedy, adoring hands.

"Taste it," he murmured against your temple, voice gentler now, darkly satisfied. "This is how good you’re, baby."

He shoved two fingers between your lips, pressing them flat against your tongue. You accepted them greedily, wrapping your mouth around him without a second thought.

Because deep down — as much as you tried to deny it — you belonged to him in ways that you couldn’t undo.

Bangchan stared at you like he was starving, his eyes black with lust, devouring the sight of you so eager to please him. His thumb dragged lazily across your bottom lip, smearing your gloss, leaving a wet, messy sheen all over your mouth like a mark he wanted the world to see.

For a split, torturous second, you thought he was going to kiss you.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your body tilting toward him instinctively, aching to feel his mouth against yours. One simple touch that would have undone you completely.

But he pulled away at the last second.

It was like being doused in ice water. The heat between you evaporated instantly, leaving a hollow ache behind.

You stumbled back, spine hitting the cold bathroom wall, every part of you trembling — not from pleasure now, but from something colder, crueler.

He stood there for a long, agonizing moment, his face carved into something unreadable, chest heaving like he was still fighting himself.

Then he said, voice hoarse and brutal, "Better clean yourself up, princess. You're a fucking mess."

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel, unlocked the door, and vanished into the pounding music and flashing lights beyond.

You were left alone, the door swinging half-shut, the air around you still heavy with the smell of sex and sweat. Staring at your ruined reflection — lipstick smeared, cheeks wet, eyes hollow — you barely recognized the girl looking back.

Destroyed. Empty.

Still aching for a man who had just reminded you exactly how much power he still held over you.

PART TWO TOMORROw!

[nmakii]

out of my league - fitz and the tantrums. i love boyloser otoya

“dude, she’s totally outta yer league.” otoya frowned as karasu echoed his exact thoughts. “she’s a pretty, good girl, ‘nd yer… you. unless she’s goin’ through a rebellious phase, there ain’t gonna be a way.”

“i know… but, i wanna at least talk to her…” otoya pouted, admiring how you looked while you were having fun. you hadn’t even noticed your old classmate in the bowling alley, even with the micro celebrities of the japan u-20 accompanying him.

ever since blue lock started— and otoya and karasu met, otoya has never stopped talking about you— the pretty girl in his class who seems to be the only one who can make him nervous. even back then, he was never able to talk to you.

he’d talk to karasu non-stop about you. how you’d quickly fix your messy desk before class started, how cutely focused you looked when you were writing notes in class, and how you’d sneakily defy the teacher by sneaking a piece of taffy into your mouth for snack. he was able to notice every little thing about you. at this point, karasu knew as much about you as your closest friends without even knowing your face.

“come on, man. don’t make me push ya into her.” he teased, to which otoya glared at him. that’s such an uncool meet cute. he could never accept that being the first time he talks to you. “you better not.” otoya threatened.

“better talk to her then. if she leaves, and still doesn’t know who you are, i’m pushin’ ya.” karasu grins as he stands up from the seats, preparing for his next turn.

otoya rests his elbow on the arm rest. as his fingers play with the wool of his beanie, his mind runs at a hundred miles per hour as he tries to rack up a strategy of how to talk to you.

thankfully, he doesn’t need to, when a group of girls suddenly walk up to him.

“hey, you’re those guys from the game yesterday, right?” a few chirpy voices ask, and he looks up. to his disappointment, you’re not one of the faces in front of him. you’re still on your side of the alley, looking in otoya’s direction as you encourage your girl-friends.

“oh? yeah, i am.” he nods. sendou joins the little party when one of your friends pulls him by the hand, face flushed at the reality of meeting her celebrity crush. “we should all go out some time.” sendou smiles, excited to have caught the attention of such a pretty girl.

otoya nods in agreement, pointing you out to your friends. “what about her though? why’s she not here?” he asks, trying his best not to sound desperate.

“s/o? she isn’t too interested in double dates.” you friend explains. his disappointment is evident in the way his eyes downturn, but nonetheless he replies again, “we should still invite her, she’ll get lonely.”

your friends look upset at the fact that he’s so adamant on bringing you along, until he tries to compromise, “i’ll even invite our friends, karasu and aiku, along. that way you two lovely ladies aren’t so lonely either.” he offers, a seductive undertone in it which easily makes them give in.

being the ninja that he is, it wasn’t too hard for him to sneak away, leaving sendou to entertain all three of the ladies (which he did, happily). and, he found himself walking up to you.

“hey… you’re s/o, right..? i think we went to the same school.” otoya asks hesitantly, feinting nonchalance. as if he’d forget your name though— it’s never left his mind for what seems to be about a year now.

you nod, “yeah? otoya, right? great job on the win yesterday.” you give him a thumbs up as you congratulate him, and otoya swears that his heart leaps.

you actually knew who he was.

“oh— …thanks.” he replies. he’s not sure what to do— well, he knows what to do. this would usually be the time he’d ask the girl if she wants to see a real-life ninja descendant in action, but he knows you wouldn’t like something like that, and he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t want to dump water on this flame, he wants a slow burn that only puffs out when one of you (hopefully him) takes your final breath before the other.

oh, god— his hands are getting sweaty. why did he wear a bunch of layers again? oh, right. because japan is cold enough to make you freeze your balls off. how did he play football for 90 minutes in a jersey tee and shorts in this weather again? how can he ever go back to being the chill, ‘go with the flow’ type of guy he used to be now that he’s finally talking to you? fuck, now his back is sweating, it won’t be long until his hair gets greasy, then you’ll think he’s a weird sports junkie who uses deodorant as a substitute for showers—

“are you there?”

“…”

it’s almost funny seeing otoya freak out in his mind. he doesn’t show it though. physically, he just looks as if he’s disassociated.

when he’s pulled back into reality with your hand in his face, he’s still just as freaked out; his heart beating out of his chest, trying to wipe his sweaty palms on the underside of his sweater sleeve, and his bottom lip quivering to move, yet making no sound.

“wanna get out of here?” you ask, and otoya tilts his head silently as if to ask ‘why?’. he’s still trying to pull himself together, but you can’t just give him a break. “i mean… it’s pretty boring now that my friends are all over your mates, sooo… are you down? there’s this cool bakery that’s a must try when in shibuya.”

at the temptation of talking more with you, otoya is nothing but a sinner. but, the two of you being alone? that would make it more like a date, wouldn’t it?

agh, high school dating protocol is so stupid now that he really thinks about it… he shouldn’t put a label on anything you didn’t ask for. unless… you were subtly asking him out..?

pushing those stupid thoughts aside, he nods, not even trying to hide his elation. “sure. let’s get out of here. i’m sure you can tell that i’m the expert when it comes to sneaking away, right?”

[curapicas]

Why I think Lu Guang's answer to the riddle was the detective:

It's given at the same time Cheng Xiaoshi gives his own for misdirection. The one who gave the same answer as CXS was his own dad, a guy that for all his failings, was loved enough by SYY to try and change his death node - WQ is also attached to him, therefore we expect/hope CWM has an ethical side to himself; meanwhile the one who gave the same answer as LG was Vein.

It happens right before LG bets on Vein being murdered on that room, an antithesis to CXS changing the past for what he hopes is for the best to those involved (note: I'm fine with the guy trying to fix a death node by dumping a death node on his bestie's murderer, just pointing out them as a partnership don't EVER do things intending to eliminate the bad guys, ya feel me?)

CXS' answer presumes innocence (more on how to me, this reflects on link click's overall messages under the cut), but LG is analytical; he'd take in consideration that the detective is poor and the animals had a coin;

the riddle states that "you" are the detective. LG spends yingdu burdened by knowledge and trying to solve a disappearance along with CXS; we also know LG feels guilt over what he's doing and CXS' death (which is why he was harsh on Vivian not deserving CXS' sympathy when they were on the phone). Therefore, he not only has been functioning as a detective throughout yingdu and link click as a whole, but also presumes guilt for himself (meanwhile Vein presumes that ppl have hidden intentions like he usually does, I guess)

In other words; LG answers he's the detective bc he not only takes the seemingly innocuous clues into consideration, but by the end of yingdu he feels guilty and burdened by what he has done and feels he has to do. A far cry from the 1st episode, where he identified with the noble heroine who goes into a doomed quest; now he thinks of himself as the sharp detective who would burn a forest down to get what he wants.

Now, personally I vibe with LG and CXS pointing to two different directions: LG makes the audience aware that amidst all of the tragedies in link click, someone is benefiting; there's a person or a group who doesn't care others are being stepped on, which has been the case of the antagonists so far, be it LX or the typical bullies; and LG puts himself among them, since he doesn't justify to himself he has noble intentions so it's okay that they won't help with Emma's investigation, for example.

CXS is the other side of link click: actually, bad things will happen without anyone meaning to, as is the earthquake, the noodle lesbians' divergence, the time nodes getting messed up by well-meaning intentions.

Note: The big takeaway here is that LG thinks it's the detective bc he thinks he's the detective and LG knows himself as guilty. Not that his answer was (or wasn't) the most logical/obvious and CXS' was too naive, I'm actually trying to prove that even if he answers purely using logic, LG is being emotional about it too! A correct answer is NOT the point of the riddle

btw, the positive spin of LG going from the tragic heroine to the cruel detective is that he no longer is passive about fate, and sees it as something that can be seized, which gives him hope

[jareaul0ver]

I Wanna Be Yours

pt 1

wc: 1.6k warnings: douchey bf, mentions of sex, clubbing, alcohol, cheating (only a little) pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

ok guys i’m doing a series!! this is partially why i closed my requests, so if this does bad i might cry. idk how many parts it’s gonna be but here’s part 1, enjoy :)

You laid back with a sigh and watched your boyfriend get up. He immediately pulled out his phone and called his friend.

“Yeah. Yeah man, I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and turned to you. You were sweaty, tired, and uncomfortable; he couldn’t get you to cum to save his life. “Ima hang out with the boys babe.”

You frowned. “You’re leaving already? You just.. you just got here.”

He shrugged and threw a shirt on. “Yeah, but we already fucked.”

There it was again. Your boyfriend, the guy who supposedly was in love with you, taking part in his usual after sex ritual. You’d go to either of your places, fuck, and he’d either leave completely or pay no mind to you after.

It felt like a casual hookup, and it made you feel awful.

“Plus, I’m taking you out tomorrow night. Isn’t that enough?” He hoisted his shorts back onto his waist and fixed his hair in the mirror.

“I guess.” You sighed.

He walked towards the bedroom door. “Love you babe.”

You watched him leave without saying anything in return. Your eyes shut and you took a deep breath. It wasn’t unusual for him to act this way, hell it was the only way you knew he acted, but it still hurt every time.

Your friend slung her arm around your shoulder as you left class. “Yeah, then he just left.” You finished explaining yesterdays events to her.

“Girl, you’ve gotta dump his ass.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Come out with me and the girls tonight, we can go to a club and find you someone new.”

“I can’t, Ryan planned a date night today. Some sort of dinner thing.” You shrugged. “Maybe another time.”

She gave you a knowing look. “Fine, just call if you need anything, or if you change your mind.” She smirked before walking away.

You touched up your makeup and hair in the mirror. The black bodycon dress you wore made you look incredible. He had told you earlier to dress nice, so you found the nicest thing in your closet and threw it on.

Ryan was coming from one of his friends apartments, so you had to meet him at the restaurant.

You pulled up outside of the place and found a parking spot. It looked nice on the outside, pretty yellow lights hanging around the outdoor seating, surprisingly beautiful architecture considering it’s a restaurant.

It was nice, and you knew this was Ryan trying to make up for everything. You headed inside and a hosted led you to the table that he reserved for the two of you.

Once you sat down and ordered a water, you checked the time. He was running a few minutes late, which was normal.

A little more time had passed. A waitress had come to ask if you wanted to order, and you shook your head and said to wait a few more minutes.

Well, those few minutes passed and there was still no sign of your boyfriend showing up. You pulled out your phone and called him.

No answer.

You called him again, no answer.

You sent a few texts asking where he was, if he was okay, and if he’d be there soon.

A few minutes later you checked your phone and there was still no answer. The waitress had come back to the table and she noticed the tears welling in your eyes. “Listen, I know you’re waiting for someone miss, but I’d hate to see you wait here all night for them.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll- Ill be leaving now, thank you.” You gave her a polite smile and gathered your purse and jacket before leaving the restaurant.

The second you got into the car the tears started flowing. In the end, you weren’t surprised this happened. He was a shit boyfriend and always ended up making you feel this way.

You pulled out your phone and dialed a number. “Hello?” The voice rang out over the loud sound of music behind it.

“What club are you at?” You spoke through tears.

“Oh, sweetie.” You friend frowned and you could hear it through her voice. “The usual. He didn’t show up?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it. Be there in 15.” You hung up and immediately started driving to the club.

You’d been on the road for 10 minutes and there was still no answer from Ryan. The second you parked you checked his location, and it showed that he was still at his friends house.

You quickly got it off your screen and rushed into the club, trying hard to find your friends. You also were trying hard to not let the tears in your eyes fall, but it was proving to be difficult.

Once you finally spotted them, you made a beeline towards the back of the club. Except you didn’t make it very far. You ran straight into a tall figure.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” The figure turned around and a brunette stared down at you.

She must’ve seen your shaken state and shook her head softly. “No worries.” She paused. “Are you okay?”

You blinked a few times and your eyes met hers. They were soft and brown and you felt yourself immediately being pulled in.

“Hello?” She waved her hand gently in front of your face.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m- I’m okay.” You smiled a bit at her.

She smiled back and nodded. “I’m Nika, by the way.”

The second you heard her name it clicked in your head who you were talking to. Your eyes widened a bit. You were new to the UConn scene, only arriving as a transfer at the beginning of the year, but of course you had heard about Nika Muhl.

“I- I know.” You shook your head immediately. “I mean, I’ve seen you. Fuck- I’ve seen your games.” You let out a long breath and looked away from her. “Sorry, I’m a mess right now.”

She couldn’t help but smile at your nerves. She thought it was adorable. Nika laughed softly. “I’ve never seen you around before, y’know.”

“I transferred from Boston College this year.” You met her eyes again and realized her gaze hadn’t left you.

She nodded. “Why don’t I get you a drink, then you can tell me more?”

A small smile twitched at your lips. “Deal.”

The rest of the night went smoothly. You and Nika talked, and both of your groups of friends had been long forgotten.

Everything was going great until she asked about the one thing you hoped she wouldn’t. “So.. d’you have a boyfriend or anything?”

You froze for a second and took a deep breath. “I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I do.”

She nodded and took a sip of her drink to mask her disappointment, but she didn’t miss the tone of your voice when you answered.

“He’s.. awful though. I’m only here because he forgot about our date night.” You took a sip of your drink after that.

She scoffed. “What a dick.” She couldn’t believe that anyone could treat a girl like you that way. Nika had only known you for less than a few hours but she knew you were special, and deserved to be treated as such.

You shrugged and looked down at your lap. You fidgeted with the promise ring on your finger, only feeling more hurt by looking at it.

She watched you for a moment before standing up and pulled your hands out of your lap. “C’mon, let’s go dance. Forget about him.”

“Oh, no I-“ You shook your head. “I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I, but have some fun, yeah?”

You sighed and got up, letting her lead you to where everyone was huddled together and dancing. You stood there awkwardly for a moment before Nika started swaying, moving your arms around.

You couldn’t help but smile at her, and she smiled back. You started swaying on your own, dancing along to the music blaring from the overhead speakers.

More people joined their friends on the dance floor and it started feeling like a can of sardines. At this point, you were practically pressed against Nika.

The heat radiating off her body could be felt a mile away. You shouldn’t have been doing this with her, you had a boyfriend, but she was so beautiful and kind, you couldn’t help yourself.

Her hands found your waist and you let her rest them there. How could something so incredibly wrong feel so good?

Nika’s brown eyes stared down at you as you danced against her. Her gaze flickered lower, landing on your lips. She couldn’t help herself. She leaned in and kissed you feverishly.

You melted against her, letting the kiss consume you whole. But then Ryan’s face popped into your head. You were out, kissing a girl in a club, while Ryan was probably at his friends house asleep. He had no idea, and even though he was awful, you couldn’t do this to him.

You pulled away from her and took a step back. “I- I can’t do this, Nika. I have a boyfriend-“

“Yeah, but he’s a douche, and you deserve better.” She cut you off.

You shook your head. “But this.. this is wrong. I’m sorry.” You quickly pushed your way out of the crowd of people and through the exit of the club. You reached your car and let out a deep breath.

You ran a hand over your face and blinked a few times. “What the fuck did I just do?”

[cusackswhitehair]

Hey diva, if you've got the time, could u maybe whip up some Hoarder Alex HCs (romantic or platonic, idm!!) with reader who's a crybaby/super anxious? Like at first he finds them annoying but they're so kind to him that he starts to rlly appreciate them? Ty in advance!!! ^^

//Desc: Asks like this are sooo cute dude, I’m shedding tears😢😢 No matter how big of a jackass Alex is, don’t think I don’t see those cracks where it’s obvious he just has a lot going on…most of these things would be easily avoidable if he wasn’t so…him. But there’s nothing a shaking bundle of anxiety can’t fix, he quite literally will forgot about complaining about his trivial nothing burger of problems! He’s got a sweetheart to calm down and nurture. Thanks so much for requesting as always!! \\

⋆𐙚₊˚ 📢 Hoarder Alex with Crybaby! S/O 💐 ⋆𐙚₊˚

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Why, isn’t that just nice? Not only does he has to endure inhumane conditions, dragging and shoving his property about and has to worry about pesky intruders, thiefs! Cutpurses even!! Now he also has an inescapable though engraved into his mind. The first time he had encountered you, you told him you were trying to get trough, and you can’t swim and that you REALLY can’t swim—but not so fast you little pickpocket! He just spat the classic talk and shooed you off, like all the others…something he really didn’t expect was for you to start shaking like a leaf, sobbing, like you were ready to fall onto the floor and roll around. What a damn fusspot.

It became all the more infuriating when you had the audacity to come back later and apologize!? It made him want to tear his hair out! He was being a jerk to you and you apologize!? Oh… After (probably days of) rethinking the situation, he went out of his way and told you that “maybe…you weren’t trying to get your grubby hands on my properties…maybe.”

Your stay around the Uncanny Streets made him realize countless things, one; you’re terrible at managing stress (look who’s talking) and two; you’re disgustingly nice-hearted, even if that sometimes costs you a tear or two. He finds himself thinking about whether a certain hoarded item would make you feel happy, would this tile he kicked off and put away from The Hub make you whine a little less?

Don’t underestimate the might of a hoarder! No matter how smaller he is compared he is, he will pick you up to either comfort you or to distance you from someone bugging you, yelling “THEY ARE NOT INTERESTED, FLY OFF!!” rather calmly.

He might be a nitwit, but he’s a proper one at least. It didn’t take much time for him to learn you and the signs of you getting close to your breaking point. Don’t feel comfortable talking (especially if you’re selective mute) in a situation? No matter, he’ll get you those extra ketchup packets and demand a new burger withOUT pickles! Currently breaking down into an anxiety attack? He will personally escort you out of the space, no matter how many people he has to kick off to manage to do so.

Alex is very considerate and shielding, and when it comes to his most carefully kept jewel, his sweetheart, he will easily blow his stack…But the thing is, he’s not a good fighter. A highly enthusiastic one? Sure, however in the majority of the cases, you’ll be the one getting him out of that deuce of a mess he gets himself into while blindly trying to protect you. He’s unfortunately the type of guy who will jump into your arms, screaming like a girl whenever he’s spooked.

You really are the apple of his censor bar. Alex deep down loves doing small things for you — that will make your nerves soothe, but when you do stuff for him? Lord does he swoon! That ugly, bubbly, warm feeling in his stomach used to bother him when he looked at you, all too clammy, not for the weak. But a smile…and less fussing makes it all worth it.

He tries to make his living space (yeah, that dump) as comfortable as possible. Since the ship wreck is quite a dark place, so dimmer, warmer lights were a given. He always jumps in to absolutely destroy anything around the makes you on edge. He would also hoard a bunch of things just for you. “Oh, tesorino! I’ve got us some weighted blankets!”

He has never had to be delicate with anyone — with anything for that matter. The hoard will be there whether if he’s tossing things on top of it like a brute or if he’s laying on top, like a proud lion. With you though, he knows he has to walk around the edges and reassure you. Baby’s first relationship that requires compassion.

Cuddles. When you’re not crying like a fussbudget and he’s not ranting into the sky about absolutely nothing, that silent language the both of you understand — is cuddling. It doesn’t matter if it’s a little hand holding by the bridge or you with your legs and arms wrapped around him like a monkey on a tree, quietly sobbing into his sweater, he eats it up like the finest meal, all the time. Especially when it’s totally uninterrupted, his tail wrapped around your leg under the covers when you two are sleeping, it makes him feel like he’s doing something right.

If it ever gets to a point where you would have a panic attack, first of all he would panic. But don’t take him for a sissy, he’ll try all the methods in his repertoire. Sometimes, he’ll ask the most outlandish questions to get your mind off of your anxiety and more on the thought “what the hell is wrong with this guy”. “QUICK! NAME FIVE THINGS FROM MY HOARD YOU KNOW I’D NEVER GIVE AWAY—alright, all off them, I let you off easy there.”

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[kneelingshadowsalome]

Quick! Info dump about your favorite blorbo!

König headcanons

NSFW content below the cut, 18 + only (These apply to yandere König as well, the toxic stuff is marked with a red flag 🚩)

Does like 50 crunches and 50 pushups first thing in the morning when he wakes up, as he has done since he was a teenager.

Will fix everything from cars to furniture. If the door is creaking he will oil the hinges immediately. Actually, he will treat every single thing in life as a problem... A problem he will fix.

He's great at math and physics and has vast amounts of knowledge about mechanics, thermodynamics, even things like quantum theory and other complex astronomy stuff.

He's completely clueless when it comes to following trends and memes. You have to explain every other tiktok to him. He rarely uses emojis but when he does, it's awkward and slightly intimidating because König doesn't know the hidden meanings behind them. If you send him an eggplant or peach emoji he asks if you need veggies from the store.

Loves your cooking (even if it's just microwaved mac and cheese). If you start to feed this man, you'll never get rid of him.

This is your classic mama’s boy who never had to learn how to cook and then went to the army and got used to the facility taking care of him so… yeah. Doesn't know how to cook but will try to help in any way he can! König is very excited to see you’re making food and wanders into the kitchen like “What are we making today?” You can try and give him a chopping board, an onion and a knife, but this poor man doesn't even peel the onion unless you tell him he has to remove the outer layer first...

Eats like a horse. Is secretly afraid that you run out of food. Goes to the fridge and if it's half full, he will not take the snack he was supposed to have, only comments: "The fridge looks empty." (It's not a passive aggressive statement, he's just worried.)

Also: everytime there's a crisis somewhere – he follows the news neurotically – König starts to prep. There's a month's worth of food stashed in one of the cupboards at all times. He also preps fuel, propane, medicine and the like.

Ruins all the fun when you're playing board games because he fusses about the rules so much. König holds the rulebook in his hand through the whole game and double-checks every single thing.

He's very clumsy, sometimes hits his head on the door frame when he's in a hurry or visiting a new place. He can't stay still either, always shakes his leg when he’s sitting. König needs a lot of exercise when he's not deployed to get all that energy and frustration out.

This has been discussed earlier but yeah, König even drops his mags sometimes in the field because he's too excited. He's a very capable martial artist though. Has done Savate, Escrima and Pekiti-Tirsia Kali and is very agile and precise with the double kali sticks he carries to field sometimes. Suddenly his clumsiness disappears when he has to knife someone, kick someone in the head or beat them to death with those sticks.

This is the reason König fucked up his sniper dreams too: having to control his breath, lie still for long amounts of time, then take aim and shoot a rifle vs. aiming during an adrenaline high, giving a tight spurt or two with his SMG… The latter just comes naturally to him! If you ask him how he managed to take down a human trafficking cell all alone König will say he simply "got carried away."

König goes to the gym a lot. Gets back super pumped and with an urgent need to make love. But not before he's had a cold shower! It's almost like a ritual: he has to torture himself with weights and cold water first before he can have his prize (= access to a woman)

Wakes you up in the middle of the night because he started to worry about petty, stupid things and then got a lil horny. Humps your leg or your back very, very slowly while grunting in your ear: "Hey... Hey. Are you sleeping…?" (Like. Yes, König, I was but I'm not anymore, thanks for asking)

Asks what kind of fantasies you have all of a sudden while you two are cuddling. Asks very detailed questions about them too. If you ask him what kind of fantasies he has in return, König will tense up and then say he doesn't really know, perhaps something like… a blowjob in the forest… And somehow you just know that his real fantasies are so perverse you don't even want to know more about them.

If you "nag" or yell at him, he might get a boner.

If you notice and get offended, ask: "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?!' König will freeze and look at you with a bewildered, obsessed stare and go: "Ja..?" while the boner situation in his pants gets visibly worse.

🚩 Would never go to bed before you've settled your argument. The problem is that it's very difficult for König to apologize because he always thinks he's in the right and that you simply need some time to come to that conclusion too. If you give him the silent treatment he will eventually come to you, gets all touchy and asks surprisingly demurely: "Are you still angry with me?"

🚩 The minute you forgive him or decide it was a stupid argument anyways, the demure puppy act disappears. König thinks he won and that it's time for some makeup sex ❤️

Has like the longest cock known to man. He has actual trouble finding comfortable underwear to fit that beast into. It's beautiful but intimidating, uncut, smooth and sleek. Not too thick but certainly not thin either. He likes to keep himself tidy down there too so the lack of hair makes this murder weapon look even bigger.

You two occasionally break furniture while having sex. It's mainly his fault (he gets carried away). He's very upset about it afterwards though, looks at the destruction he caused, muttering "Scheisse…" while rubbing the back of his neck. Then he tries to fix it while you're still there with your legs shaking and in need of aftercare.

If you remind him that he has other duties first, perhaps whimper his name in frustration, König will apologize and carry you to bed. He gives you that precious aftercare with unwavering passion and attention every time you ask for it ❤️ He's just a little clueless sometimes (König is also neuroatypical, either has AD/HD or falls somewhere in the autism spectrum)

🚩 Hates condoms with an intense passion. You're practically forced to take birth control pills or whatever so that he can cum inside you. This man's whining will ultimately gain a level that's absolutely ridiculous if you don't.

The first time you do it without the rubber, he sounds like he's about to cry. He tells you a hundred times how good it feels, and won't pull out until he grows soft and is kind of forced to do so. For a man who's never even heard of a breeding kink, he seems vehement about keeping his load inside you.

🚩Grunts and whispers loving but obsessive things in your ear while making love to you. You're mine, Say it, Promise that you're mine, I don't want to live without you, Why do you feel so good? at first… but as he approaches his peak, König switches to German. You have no clue what he’s saying, but from the way he spits those sentences through gritted teeth you get the feeling that it must be something desperate and that perhaps it's a blessing you don't understand his native tongue...

🚩🚩If you leave your phone on the table he tries to stalk it and check the notifications. He's so jealous it's unreal, if he sees you receive a message from some other guy König will start a circus. He needs to know all about your connection with this man. After that, he wants you to go through your contacts and show him how many guys there are and tell him what your affiliations are with them. If you're on social media König wants to go through your friends/those you follow. You have to give an account who they are and why you follow them.

🚩🚩🚩 You get a feeling he's forming a list of people he has to kill if you don't tell him they're just a cousin or something 💀

[miyukisu]

All Over Me .ᐟ

❤︎ | Amidst the cruelty of the world, he's your therapy ╰ feat. toji fushiguro x afab! reader

tags - based on Therapy by Khalid, friends with benefits, angst, p*rn with plot, yearning, toxic-ish relationship, both of them have self-destructive habits, drinking, drunk sex, non-jjk au but Toji remains an assassin, soft dom! Toji, sweet & passionate sex, shower sex, creampies, overstimulation, happy ending, mentions of blood and injuries but not from the sex, second chances, praise, p in v

minors do not interact

They say that time heals all wounds. But you've ceased to believe that. The gaping emptiness in your heart has never seemed to fix itself no matter how long you waited.

But there were rare moments when it felt fine—when your heart felt full enough that it could burst. Temporary fix was what it was. But it was better than nothing at all. You found solace in the one person that you shouldn't. But again, it was better than nothing at all.

You watched as he got up and sat by the edge of the bed, preparing to leave. As much as you loved his broad back and the way his muscles rippled every time he moved, you hated to see it like this—as a sign of his impending departure.

"You're leaving?" you ask as if this wasn’t a regular occurrence. But you still ask the same question each time and he answers every time. It's the same thing no matter what; Toji fucks you real good and leaves right after.

He picks up the black shirt that was discarded to the side before the two of you got frisky. Toji easily slid it back on his hulking frame. And maybe it’s because you were fucking with no strings attached that you oddly felt aroused and sad at the same time. The way he dressed up to leave was effortlessly hot—in fact, anything that Toji Fushiguro did, you found it hot. But that never changed the fact that he always would leave you high and dry.

A soft and almost disappointed sigh left his scarred lips. “Yeah. I gotta go,” he replies flatly.

Every inch he takes farther from you—a part of your heart hollows. And recently, you’ve been feeling as if there was a piece of your heart that never felt filled up like it used to. There was always something missing.

It’s not like you didn’t know what it was. You did know and that part is what scared you the most… because you were sure you have fallen in love with Toji Fushiguro. The missing piece that you were secretly craving for was his love—pure, unadulterated love. The same love both of you agreed to never fall into.

But here you were.

Usually when he said he was leaving, that was the end of it. No more words were to be exchanged. But tonight was different.

“I’m not coming back after this,” he adds. He was as straightforward as one can be, yet the thought couldn’t fully sink in to you. No, you didn’t want it to sink in. It had to be fake or you swear you’d die.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Any logical argument flew right out the window the moment he said he’d never return. “What? What do you mean! Toji? But we were… we were doing okay? Right?” you asked rather desperately. “Right?”

“Do you love me?”

The question was heavy—too fucking heavy for you to handle. But you figured what would happen next lies in how you choose to answer his question. You knew the right answer—the one that would make him stay.

But by God; you cannot find it in yourself to lie to him and especially to yourself. You loved him. That was the fact of the matter, regardless of how hard you try to deny it.

However, soon as you uttered the word "yes" —Toji Fushiguro was out the door and out of your life.

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Toji thought he had made the right decision. All of a sudden, Shiu was dumping so much work on him that he had to work until the late hours of the evening. He wouldn't really have time to visit you anyway. So it all worked out in the end.

But those were thoughts he conjured up to comfort himself. He didn't really believe that he had gone down the right path with you.

Or maybe it was some kind of withdrawal? Perhaps the sex was too fucking good that now he wasn't getting it—he was starting to feel miserable. It was the same as the time he quit drinking or the time he quit gambling.

Then, he wondered when he let go of those things.

"Ah... it was because of her," he thought to himself. He inadvertently became a better person because of the woman he claimed he only slept with.

Toji felt awful for making you feel like it was your fault everything fell apart—when in fact he was the one who fell hard. He was the one who was afraid that his feelings would fuck everything up.

Both of you break rules. Both of you were very very miserable people. And maybe that's why you two go so well together.

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Toji knew he was fucked in the head. He had to be. After all, he did kill people for a living. But also because he was currently walking up to your apartment at 2 in the morning covered in his own blood.

He didn't care if anyone saw him or if you figure out his line of work. All he knew in his head—no, his heart—that he wanted to see you.

The feeling that he had been seeking out for weeks finally filled him to his very bones now that he stood in front of you. He was sure that you'd be asleep, but you answered your door way too fast. Behind you, he can see the glass of whiskey you had been nursing before he came over. It broke his heart a bit that you returned to drinking most likely because of him.

You weren't sure what to feel. On one hand, the man you dreamt of every night of coming back did come back—knocking at your door, asking for forgiveness. But on another, he was fucking covered in blood.

"W-what happened to you?"

"I kill people for a living," he says, not wanting to beat around the bush anymore. "It's mine. Don't worry," he adds, referring to the blood that had dried and painted his body—as if that makes things any better.

Rather than be scared like every other person would be, all your brain did was justify him. The real world was cruel; people like him had to exist. People just live too much of a comfortable life that jobs like these scare them before considering the nuances. Maybe he killed bad people specifically. That was okay, right?

It had to be. You wanted nothing more than to have him again. Every fiber of your body told you so.

Maybe you were fucked in the head too.

────────────

Did it make you a bad person for feeling so good in his arms? With his lips on yours and his hands groping very part of you that he could? Probably. But you could care less.

The warm water of the shower trickled down your entangled bodies. Not much of cleaning was done when the both of you were too busy making out and making up for lost time. Truth be told, it was crazy how both of you just made your way here without much words exchanged.

It was like you just knew—his sins had to be washed away and you had to be in each other's presence again.

"I can't take it anymore," he whispered in your ear. Toji grabbed the flesh of your thigh, lifting your leg up and hooking it around his waist. His aching cock teased your dripping entrance.

Oh, how he missed this feeling.

There was a sense of desperation and need with the way he sunk himself into you so quickly. He sheathed everything right away without a second thought. After not feeling his cock for a few weeks, the abrupt stretch was painfully good.

He had to go faster. He lifted your other leg up, now hooking both around his waist so you hovered in the air. Toji held you up easily by the ass—big calloused hands gripping on your smooth silky skin.

He fucked into you without a care in the world. If anything, all that mattered in the moment was for him to chase that high that he missed. Every hard thrust he gave you earned a new scratch on his back from your nails.

Toji was relentless with how he pounded his cock into your weeping pussy—that all you could do was to hold on to him for dear life. A string of moans and curses left your lips and they went straight to his ears, urging him to go even faster.

You were louder than usual since you were a bit tipsy from the whiskey, but more so because he was fucking you so good. You hoped that the sound of the running water would mask a bit of your noises.

It was like your cunt had memorized the shape, the curve, and every vein of his dick. You were made for each other, more ways than one.

"Fuckkk," he groaned. "You missed this, baby? 'Cuz I sure fucking did."

A breathless moan came out of you rather than a coherent answer. It hasn't even been 15 minutes and you were already out of it. "Hah... yes. Missed this. Missed you."

Toji felt a bit ridiculous how his balls tightened and his cock twitched at your sweet words. It only confirmed his feelings. What he was feeling right now wasn't merely lust, but also love. To show you his sincerity, he made sure to shoot his load deep within you—right where you can feel it.

────────────

He was feeling more generous than usual today. And by that he meant he needs to fill you up even more. Though it was hardly an excuse for him just wanting to wrap his dick with the warmth of your pussy.

The fact that both of you were still wet from the shower became an afterthought as he carried you to bed. It was going to get drenched anyway. Besides, he was starting to feel confined in the small shower space. He had a primal need to bend you over backwards, to fuck you senseless in every way that he possibly could.

"Don't hafta move for me, alright? Lemme take care of you hm?" he gently whispered in your ear. He let you be a pillow princess for the night as a way to atone for his mistake. His pretty lady was about to get nothing else but unsullied pleasure.

He softly bit into your neck before sliding his cock right back where it belonged. Toji felt strange that louder groans were leaving his lips, hence the need to bite your neck, your shoulders, and especially your chest.

His pace never slowed as his lips roamed your upper half. He left marks all over because he thought it would make him feel better—to see the proof that you were all his. He rolled your sensitive nipple between the pads of his fingers, wanting to push you further.

"Keep making those sounds. Fuck. I won't last long if you're like this."

Without warning, he slid out momentarily to flip you over. Your cheek was now pressed against the damp sheet of your bed while he held up your ass in the air. He meant it when he said you didn't have to move at all.

He gripped your waist so tightly that you were sure it would leave marks, but that wouldn't be the first time it happened.

He easily slid his cock right back in, rearing to thrust mindlessly into you again. But before that, he leaned down and pressed gentle kisses on your nape—all the way down to your back. Once he was satisfied, he began to snap his hips against you.

Toji was able to go faster now that you were on the bed. It left you a drooling and moaning mess. He let go of your hips, deciding to plant one hand on the mattress beside your head while the other slithered down to play with your neglected clit.

Toji was a man of many talents, but he was certainly the best at fucking your pussy and toying with your clit at the same time. You don't think any other man could fuck you as good as he does. And you might be right.

For some reason, he too was feeling extra sensitive. Maybe those lonely nights he spent fisting his cock to the memories of you two just weren't enough to satisfy him completely. He wanted this. He needed this.

He leaned down, almost crushing you with his weight as he wrapped his thick arms around your waist. He wanted to feel all of your warmth and inhale your scent while he pounded into you.

"Toji... so good. You fuck me so good."

"Yeah? You think so?" Another groan leaves him. "Pussy takes me in so well... makes me think we're made for each other hm?"

Hearing him say that made your pussy clamp down on him. And you know he felt it with the way he squeezed you even more with his arms. He was totally overwhelming you, but you weren't one to complain.

A small smile crossed his lips once he felt your sweet pussy flutter around him. He missed this feeling too.

"You gonna cum for me now? C'mon let it all out. You deserve it."

And you did while screaming his name. You came so violently that your vision went white and blurry for a moment. Tears rolled down your eyes, overjoyed with the intense orgasm, but more so because of his sweet words.

He hasn't said it yet, but you knew that you felt the same way for each other.

Though he wasn't done yet. He was far from done.

You were still reeling from the mind blowing orgasm he gave you when he peeled your body off of the bed. Toji kept his arms wrapped snugly around your body as made both of you kneel upright on the mattress.

One hand held you by the waist while the other roughly cupped one breast. Now that you've came more than once, he was free to chase his own climax.

He kept fucking into you—wanting nothing else but to cum buckets into your pussy. He couldn't help but bite into your shoulder again, trying to suppress the embarrassing sounds he threatened to spill out.

Your ass was starting to hurt from all the skin slapping against each other and your cunt was overstimulated as ever. He was breaking you, but you loved every second of it.

"I'm so close, ma... Tell me that you love me. Tell me," he commanded.

"I love you... so so much. I love you, Toji."

Shit. He wasn't strong enough to resist that. Ropes of cum filled your cunt. Toji held you down on his dick as if you were going to escape from him. He rode out his high, letting his cock twitch inside you until nothing was left of him.

────────────

Once you realized that you had passed out, a sinking feeling filled your chest. You were scared to be met in an empty and dirtied bed—alone like before.

But you were surprised to feel clean and dry sheets against your skin. But most of all, you were happy to see him beside you, asleep and with the most relaxed expression you've seen on him.

You could sleep soundly again knowing that he would stay for good this time.

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note hmm, I guess I'm kinda happy with this. I hope I did him justice

[jd07201990]

“Oh, come on Chuck! This’ll be my second time! You can’t keep forcing me to work another 40 years, just to make it to retirement and do it all again! It’s not yours or my fault that there aren’t enough young folk to take over our jobs! Hell, maybe if we paid a bit more, the few of them out there would apply!”

“It’s Lieutenant Roth, Billy. Now go change out of that equipment and take a shower. Whatever this remote does to strip away all those years, it sure does leave a young man ripe!”

“Don’t call me Billy! I haven’t been Billy in 30 years! Its Bill Damn it! And how am I supposed to explain this, again! to David?! You know he’s not into, well… this!”

“Put your shirt down Billy and quit your complaining. We’re doing something different this time, changing things up, trying something new. See, we couldn’t afford to pay higher wages all these years, because we’ve been stashing extra money away, for a new program. This remote can do a lot more than just wipe away years, Billy. The company has a whole app-store full of features, but they cost a hell of a lot. We only had enough for 2 new features, and we think it’ll really help solve this town’s aging population issue.”

“Wha… what the hell are you saying? What do you mean, something new?! Chuck, dude… you’re seriously starting to crack! What the fuck does any of this have to do with David?! And who is, “We”?!”

“I’m only going to tell you this once, son. It’s Lieutenant Roth. Now, I guess there’s no beating around the bush with you young-bloods. So I’ll get right to it. “We” is me, the Governor, and the Town Board. We investigated every possible fix, and it comes down to this. All the youth are moving out in droves, going to college, or fleeing to the city for excitement, leaving us aging folk to do the hard work around town. With the remote able to take years off a person, we’ve decided that all our current retirees, in every department, will be regressed, and the new feature we purchased will ensure you all follow your new, youthful instincts, providing us with a full generational bump in population.

You will be the hot-blooded virile stud you were way back in the day; you remember? Except this time, just as David isn’t attracted to this prime of your life look, YOU won’t be attracted to David, or any man for that matter. You see, we need all the help we can get, so with this little app, you’ll be chasing pretty women, and will certainly end up settling down, once one of them catches. Ah, by the look on your face, you know exactly what I mean.

Good, because you and the rest of the retirees are going to have your hands full, working these jobs getting paid just enough for a double-wide and a truck, leaving a trail of gals before you settle in with one, and have a whole mess of kids. "

“Ch… Lieutenant, sir… Wha… you’re insane dude! Fuckin’ totally cracked! You hear yourself! You can’t do this! I can’t be… I can’t chase… I don’t… don’t like…. Fuck… fuck dude… what the fuck are you doing?! Quit pointin’ that shit at me bro! My.. my head!”

“Don’t worry son, I’ll let you off the hook for all that mouthing off. It’s got to be rough having your brain completely flipped inside out, dumped out and filled with everything you need to be a, productive, member of society. Isn’t that right Billy?”

“Wha.. Oh, hey Lieutenant! So uh, is it ok if I head off to the showers and hit the road? Kind of a slow night huh sir? If it’d be alright, I want to go down to the Strip and hit the bar. The dudes and I figured we’d start the weekend early, ya know? Gotta get get some tail on lock before the storms hit. Thinkin’ I might run into Becka too, you know, from Thornton Stables? God she’d look real pretty, all knocked up good n’ proper!”

“Oh alright son. Go ahead, take the night off. But you’re on call. Got it! One or two beers, maybe a shot, take some cash and buy the lass one of those fruity drinks, and you treat her like a lady, young man. Got it?”

“Got it Dude! I mean Lieutenant! I’ll make a lady outa her yet! Thanks for the money too! Ya know how rough it is on the town’s wages! Although you and the Board seem to be doin’ alright. I hope I can get to where you are, Sir!”

“Don’t worry Billy, you’ve got a good 40 years or so to work your way up! Go have fun tonight!”

[thedivinetarot]

I'm so sorry for your loss

How does they feel after you blocked them?

☆How to chose the perfect pile for you?

1) Close your eyes.

2) Clear your mind (don't think of anything or anyone).

3) take a deep breathe.

4) Ask the question in your head.

5) Open your eyes, and the picture that you are drawn to the most is your pile.

☆Note:

- Thank you guys for 200 followers, we are growing so fast. I'm grateful to have you guys❤.

- In this reading we are going to reveal how your specific person feel when you blocked them and went no contact with them.

- This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Nothing is set in stone.

Stay safe

Arya❤

Pile 1 - Spell book

How is you current energy?

Pile one are you trying to lose weight for a wedding but obviously it is not working out? I see that you may be on a diet to lose the extra weight and to fit in that beautiful dress you bought but obviously you either not seeing any results or you are not taking the diet seriously. You may be falling at losing this weight. Anyways as a nutrition student I advise you to lower the carb intake but never cut it from your diet. And always remember that you ARE wearing the dress and NOT the dress wearing you. That's a thing, also I see that there's someone who is shaming you for gaining that weight. He might be a man from your family or a man you know? Don't listen to them pile 1. Losing weight needs effort, consistency and finally a lot of patience. You can't lose all that weight in a week or a month! Be patient. I see that this pile is so desperate to lose the weight and they are putting too much pressure on themselves to reach that goal. And if you are not trying to lose the weight. You might be working on a project with someone and that project caused you two to lose your money and now I see that it is going to be a short term money loss. Don't freak out pile one money come and go. You can always ask for help, ask someone to lend you some money. You'll repay them one day when they need it. Another thing I'm picking up on is that this pile are facing financial trouble because of a wedding? You might put too much money and effort into it that now you have a problem with finances?. Okay, the dominant energy on this pile are earth signs (Virgo, Taurus and Capricorn) you might have those placements in your chart or just the dominant element (earth) or dominant planet (Venus, Mercury or Saturn).

Now how does he feel after you blocked him?

So, looking at the cards in front of me this person might have been manipulating you emotionally. The cards also are telling me that he is untrustworthy. So please pile 1 don't fall into that trap again. Do not unblock him. I see that after you blocked him he might got it as a sign to move on from this connection. I see that he is taking his attention and dumping it on someone else. He might be a cancer with gemini placements? Be careful those type of men especially with those placements are super manipulative even if they subconsciously do it. I see that he is asking someone to reach out to you just to know how you are doing. This person is literally a border line psycho😂 I can't. Like he act like he is fine and cool without you but he is still watching your social media or taking the tea on you from a friend of yours or a friend of a friend. Anyways, I see that he is addicted to you. Like even your name make him tremble? I don't know why I got this feeling. He might also was dependent on you emotionally? Like he have dumped all his emotions and trauma into you? Pile 1 dear, he is not worthy of that and our job is not to fix those men. He is like in between two states 1) I should let her go because it is over and the other state is 2) but we could've been good together, there's still things I want to experience with her. Anyways, I see manipulation for some reason. He might manipulated you into thinking something about him that is not exactly the truth. I see that he is being childish of his needs and wants. He is like that baby who want to have his cake and eat it too. You see that person who says that he want a specific type of women but the thought of spending the rest of his life with them terrifies him? You might have his lilith in your sun sign. He is incredibly attracted but afraid of being with you.

Thank you for reading this pile 1. Take care and stay safe❤.

Pile 2 - The burning heart

How is your current energy?

Pile two are you walking away from a friend group? I see that you either walking away from a friend group or leaving an online community. That community might be toxic and it left you unbalanced and insecure? You might have lied to yourself that this community or people are going to make you happy but in fact they made you feel insecure and more triggered? You might be someone who was obsessed of looking like a model or like those IG girls but for some reason as you progressed in that group you started comparing yourself and your life to them? I see you conflicting between you and your inner world and vision but acting happy and positive in front of people. You might also got scammed by them? I see that they were promoting a product that should solve all your problems like magic but then you realize it was a scam? That product may destroyed your skin or gave you breakouts. This pile have water placements (Cancer, Scorpio and pisces) and earth placements (capricorn, virgo and taurus).

How does he feel after you blocked him?

Well, this group is hilarious 😂. I think he didn't know that you blocked him so he kept double texting you and there was no reply so he felt like he f up. I see that if this person is living in the same place as you or the same city he might actually take action to come in and see you. And if not then he felt incredibly confused and insecure. I feel like he might be the type of person that if he faced rejection or a block he let all his previous trauma resurface again and blame himself without actually changing. But hey, let's be honest those men demand you to change but he is literally rotten in his own self with his bad habits and emotional immaturity. I see that this person was eager to know you. Have you dated him pile 2? I don't see anything serious to be honest. It looks like a date or a hookup but not really a serious lover or a partner. He feels so insecure and not stable. He perhaps, wanted to give this connection a shot but was surprised by getting blocked? Lol. I can't it is so funny. Sorry pile 2, I think you should clarify things with him. Wait I will pull a couple of cards to see his energy. He might be a young adult, possibly between 20 and 29? I see that he tried to achieve success multiple times but that didn't really happen. He might opened or worked a series of jobs or businesses/projects but none of them worked. I see that he lied about being happy away from you but he is not. He really wanted this partnership he is so serious omg. Well, I think it is up to you if you want to pursue anything further with him but he is broke sooo it is up to you pile 2, if you want to keep in touch with him or unblock him. I don't know why I keep picturing a black man with braids. He might like wearing white clothes.

Thank you for reading pile 2, stay safe and take care ❤.

Pile 3 - Love magic book

How is your current energy?

I see that this pile are finally seeing the fruits of their labor. I see that pile 3 have been doing alot of inner work and practicing self care. I see that you guys might have realized the old patterns that kept you stuck. I see a lot of inner transformation. You may finally broke free from abusive partner/family or friendships. I see that the chapter you are closing made you insecure about moving on with your life. You may be scared and terrified to take action in your current circumstances. The cards are telling me you don't have the courage yet to approach life in a more optimistic way. I see that this pile are being faced with many decisions to make and there's a lot of opportunities that will give you the abundance you need. I see that this pile are not afraid to face their inner demons. Like as I mentioned above, you might started going to therapy or doing shadow work to deal with the darker side of yourself. This pile’s energy is so internal. I don't see you doing anything to be specific, I see you doing the mundane and being afraid to take higher risks. Guys I felt anxious all of sudden. Have you been dealing with anxiety? If you might be then I asked the cards on how to deal with it and they told me that you need to live in the present moment. Stop living in the future, what will happen will happen and you have no control over the outcome. The cards are encouraging you to embrace the moment and enjoy the blessings from the universe. I see that this pile will have an opportunity to improve their life. I see a job opportunity coming in for you and it will make you so happy. Guys I think life is not that serious so please don't overthink the stuff that you cannot control. Okay? Live your life guys. Anyways, I see a strong uranus and pluto energy. You might have those two planets dominant in your chart or you might be an aquarius, cancer or scorpio. That's what I'm picking up on. You don't have to have those placements if the description fit you correctly.

How does he feel after you blocked him?

I see that your person is practical and stubborn. He might be an aquarius, capricorn or have his sun in the 10th or 11th house in his chart. This person is refusing letting you go. The cards are all pointing to the opposite direction, I see that this person is so attached to you like a puppy. This person is boiling inside, his blood is on fire. I feel like he is feeling stuck and frustrated. He might have a lot of female friends or have a lot of sisters or female siblings. Whatever the case he is asking them to help him of his situation or just spending time with them to get over you. I think that he think what is between you two is not done or finished. He is so fixated on you. I feel like after you left he got depressed and sad. I feel like I'm losing hope. This person keeps himself dissociated by imagination. He keep imagining you two together. He didn't expect you to block him. I don't really see any movement, he is not moving at all. And if you are asking about him taking action towards you I don't see that happening honestly. He is just trapped in his head. He might have an IXXJ mbti (ISTJ,ISFJ, INTJ, INFJ)?. This person is not happy of how things are he is still thinking about you. I heard the phrase "you never left my mind/ imagination". I see that instead of healing and moving on he is distracting himself even more.

Pile 4 - The 3 of swords card

How is your current energy?

Honey why are sad? He doesn't deserve it. I feel like this pile is disappointed by someone they felt a connection with. This person might crossed your boundaries and even was rude to you. I don't really feel like you know this person well, like you see when we meet someone briefly and they leave quite a strong impression on us. I see that you expect this person to treat you in a way and unfortunately you got disappointed. I see that this person did not respect your privacy or personal space. I feel like you might have problem socializing with other? Or social anxiety? And that person was the last straw? Anyways give yourself some time to heal from that and move on. I feel like this pile are trying to be more courageous but they are overthinking and scared. You might be someone who do not trust others and feel so overwhelmed by people. I pulled a card for advice and they are telling you to step into your power, they are telling me that you are strong pile 4. You have this duality to you and if it is not about duality then you can switch masculine and feminine energy within you quite easily. Also trust your intuition. I feel like you have a female figure in your life who is very spiritual and connected to earth. Ask her for help and she will gladly help you. This is your pile if you have leo placements or fire placements in general. I see mars as a dominant planet too. So take what resonates.

How does he feel after you blocked him?

Well, I have two scenario cases in my head. The cards are telling me that he already moved on when you blocked him. He might have had a crush on someone so it was easy for him to move into that. I see that he still watch your social media but BUUT out of curiosity not love or because he want you back. The other case scenario is; he might be working on himself to manifest you. I see that this person is so patient and calculated. He might have other life responsibilities, this person might be old like between 25 and 35. I'm not getting any teenage vibes from this group. What he felt when you blocked him was anxiety and longing? You see those psycho people who do not understand themselves? So they confuse others? He might felt like it is time to move on emotionally but mentally he sometimes long and think about you. He doesn't really understand his emotions. He keeps them to himself. This person is done I'm not seeing any movement but what I do see is thinking deeply about you and unfortunately; his thoughts are manifesting or reaching you. He might send you messages telepathically? I don't know if you believe in telepathy, but after all it is physics and spirituality. I mean our thoughts are patterns and they have vibrations and frequencies so yes it can move from one person to another. If this person keep popping on your mind then he is manifesting you.

Thank you for reading this pile 4. Stay safe❤.

Post date: 31st/Aug/2024- Sat

*Feedback is appreciated

[goodolddumbbanana]

Emo uncle Nexus au.

An redemption Nexus au where Nexus (now kinda sane) lives with Sun and Moon in the new dimension.

To sum up, Nexus consumed The wither Storm in the dimension Sun and Moon locked him in, regained his sanity, went trauma dumped and tried to kill Sun and Moon again.

But the thing is, he kinda doesn't want to kill them anymore because he has a lot of time alone to resent and rage and getting his pride beating down to realise oh whoa, nothing actually matters and now he is just tired.

Nexus just wants to make one big Fuck you on Sun and Moon face (mainly Sun) and then he would go and live his own life. (He still has voices in his head and manipulated him but they get weaker now because he is much stronger)

Anyway, it was a messy fight when there was a lot of shouting and screaming but not enough magic and star energy fighting.

In the end, they managed to make up with Nexus run like a stray and Sun often messaged him (he tried to delete it but then ended up dead and kept these messages anyway) and left food at Nexus's doorbell like treating his cat.

Their tension eventually reduced low enough to the point Nexus actually showed up in Sun and Moon house and robbed their Fridge occasionally.

He likes the fresh out of jailed cousin that the parents don't want to talk with in Thank giving Day. He is still very emo. And insane. He just doesn't want to try to murder people much anymore and he stays inside Sun and Moon house so Moon and Solar and Monty can find some cure for his Wither Storm power.

Relationship

He and Moon: They despise each other. The only reason Moon doesn't kick Nexus out of his house and Nexus doesn't try to slit Moon throat is because they have one goal in common: Getting rid of the link between Nexus and Sun.

They actually very much like twins with their mindset almost in the same wave length. (They even laughed with each other one time when they pranked the Sun and Solar together.) And those thoughts horrified them. Nexus is Moon's little brother Moon never wants to have.

Nexus and Sun: This is the most dysfunctional siblings relationship in the house. Their meeting can immediately switch from screaming and yelling and almost choking each other to death to cooking and talking normally.

Sure they care about each other enough to the point Nexus shows up for dinner and Sun trusts Nexus to fix his body as sometimes but all the rage and resentment and pain from both sides couldn't erase say one or two.

Nexus can throw the most horrible death threat to Sun and Sun will back it with the level of the same shade.

(They are fighting for the video game control. Sun wins. P/s no children are around)

Nexus: When the voices said they wanted me to send you into the deepest darkest of their place, so you would claw your head out and go insane like me, I should agree!!

Sun: Well mister emo shithead, I regret to let you live too!!

Nexus: Bitch!!

Sun: Bastard!

Nexus: YOUR MOTHER! Wait we don't have a mother. YOUR FATHER!!

Sun: We have the same father, ass!!

Nexus: Well then YOUR BROTHER!!!

Sun: *gasp* You take that back!!!

Nexus: Or else what?? You gonna kill me?? Newsflash!! It didn't stick!!!

Sun:...

Nexus:...

Nexus:... Too far?

Sun: Too far.

Nexus: Want to eat my popcorn?

Sun: Sure.

Moon and Solar are very concerned whenever they see their two interact. (It's just their language of love but no one can understand it)

Nexus and Solar: Very much awkward. Very very awkward. Nexus kinda feels betrayed by Solar because he becomes best friends with Moon very quickly and Solar still resents Nexus for being Nexus.

Nexus and Earth: They haven't talked properly yet. A lot of guilt and not enough space to talk.